Woman of the Watch (or: Alethia didnt think this would happen in her wildest dreams)

by procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics

Summary:

When Alethia Stahl is thrown into the world of Game of Thrones, she's super excited to be part of the fictional world she adores so much. That is, until she realizes how shitty medieval times actually are. Nonetheless, she makes her way through Westeros and even teaches Jon some Gen Z slang on the way.

Coming of age but make it brutal.

Notes:

• Inspired by Jon Snow X Reader – Woman of the Watch by writeyouin

First of all, I´m pretty sure that no one will read this, but I´m telling you, I think talking to Alliser Thorne with Gen Z slang would be absolutely hilarious.

Chapter 1: Part I: Another World

Notes:

Welcome or welcome back! This is just a little cover for the fic, I saw it somewhere else and thought it was super cool. Enjoy ;)

Part I: Another World

Chapters: 2-13

Summary: When Alethia Stahl is thrown into the world of Game of Thrones, she's super excited to be part of the fictional world she adores so much. That is, until she realizes how shitty medieval times actually are. Nonetheless, she makes her way through Westeros and even teaches Jon some Gen Z slang on the way.

Cast

 

Kit Harington as Jon Snow

Age: 14

"Wow Al, you look... if I didn't know you, I'd think you would actually know how to curtsy."

 

Benedetta Porcaroli as young Alethia

Age: 14-15

 "Where I'm from, Westeros is a story, a book to entertain the masses. And I can help you, because I know the future of Westeros, or more precisely, the future that will take place if I don't interfere, that was written in this book."

 

Iman Vellani as young Morgan

Age: 15

"No, I personally think it's a good day to sell crack." 

Notes:

a fair warning that this first part isn't the best writing, but it does get better later on, pinky promise

Chapter 2: Music teachers sold their souls to lower-level devils in an attempt to get famous and failed

Summary:

Alethia is way too nervous

Alethia Stahl was not the type to live a no-regrets type of life. While she pondered over the possibility of failing her music exam and how it would inevitably impact her life in a terrible way, she continued to walk into the direction of her exam hall, and in her mind, imminent death.

 

"Hey Alethia, wait for me!" Alethia turned around to see her girlfriend Morgan walking up to her, as if she didn't have her chemistry exam in five minutes.

 

"How was English?" Alethia asked.

 

"Ok. How was German? I heard you had to analyze some poem." Morgan looked at her. Alethia was about to respond, but gay panic overcame her, as per usual. Even though she and Morgan had been dating for three months now, Alethia still tended to be a nervous wreck around her way too pretty girlfriend.

 

"It was alright, but I didn't study for music." Alethia replied, brain still fried.

 

Morgan looked up at her and smirked. "It's not like you need it. Besides, we used the time you would've wasted with studying quite nicely don't you think? We´re going to be done with our exams today. How about we spend the afternoon in Central Park?"

 

"Like a date?" Alethia was shooketh.

 

"No, I personally think it's a good day to sell crack." Morgan said sarcastically and looked out of a window as if checking the weather.

 

“Yeah, maybe. But I guess you never know until you’re actually in the business.” Alethia snarked back. She picked at her sweater, seeing that some of the strands were coming loose. Maybe if she fixed it, she could lend it to Morgan again…

 

"Of course it's a date. Meet me at the school entrance. Good Luck with Music." with that, Morgan turned around and walked down the hallway, leaving Alethia to sigh like some 10-year-old that just discovered "hot" tiktok povs that are full of romanticized bullshit. She had to get her shit together, or one day, a truck would run her over while she stared after Morgan.

 

To Alethia (and everyone else with common sense) Morgan was absolutely beautiful. She had olive skin and brown eyes and was about one and a half heads shorter than Alethia, which didn´t stop her from being the most top person to ever exist. In looks and personality, she was Alethia’s opposite.

 

She was curvy and confident and had amazing parents. Morgan was the one to suggest spontaneous dates, trips to cool sites or other stuff that would count into the ‘teenage experience’. At the beginning of their relationship, Alethia had once almost fallen into a pond in Central Park, and Morgan one day told her that if Alethia was ever propose to her, it should be there.

 

Alethia on the other hand, was tall, skinny, and blonde. She was shy and not very outgoing. Being tall had its perks though because Alethia could basically give all her sweaters to Morgan. And since Morgan sucked at Math, Alethia could invite them over and tutor them in the torturous subject.

 

Her mom was happy that Alethia started tutoring people (even though it was literally only Morgan) but Alethia was sure she secretly disliked her daughter’s girlfriend for making her go out more and take risks.

 

Alethia was still staring after her girlfriend as other students began passing her in the hallway. A mix of languages hit her ears and she picked up some English and German phrases. Still not wanting to write her exam, she leaned against her locker and started to zone out.

 

A few girls passed her and one pushed her a little to get to her own locker. She moved out of the way and apologized mentally. School was a pain in the ass, no need to have someone standing in front of your locker like they’re in a chickflick.

 

Besides, Alethia was sure some kind of disgusting bodily liquid hat hit the locker one day, whether it was sweat or vomit, everything was possible in high school.

 

Alethia shuddered at the thought of unhygienic lockers and stepped away, promptly almost tripping. Yep, exams were doing nothing for her. It was time to hope for the best. Or maybe just die on the spot.

 

 

The date was kind of tempting though…

The bell brought Alethia back into reality and she made her way to her music exam. Looking around so she would not have a panic attack, she stared right into the broken neon light that was reflecting on her desk. Well that was extremely helpful.

 

She had an extremely bad feeling about music, not having studied at all.

 

Get it together Alethia, there's no point of being nervous now. she told herself and sat down at her assigned seat.

 

Her teacher entered the room and held her usual sour expression. Mixed with undereyes that could be credited to her toddlers, an interesting mix of ugly jewelry that only boomers should wear and puke-colored cardigans, she looked like every female music teacher Alethia had ever had.

 

 

Alethia wasn’t sure when her teacher had last slept, but she was sure that she hadn’t stayed up to grade their papers. She was still waiting on that one from before spring break.

 

 

But Alethia knew better than to evoke an emotion of disgust from her basically dead music teacher and watched as the woman settled in her chair. Maybe she’d forgotten to copy the exam papers. Wouldn’t be a first…

 

However, a rustle of papers showed that she had indeed copied the papers and was only acting on her premature arthritis. The woman looked up, probably thinking about a way of escaping work and all students avoided eyecontact.

 

 

Alethia and some others were still standing as they were searching for stuff in their bags and the teacher did not appreciate them sitting while doing that for some reason.

 

Finally, Alethia found a crusty pen in the bottom of her bag. If you die, you die. Shit happens.

 

 

Alethia told her brain to shut the fuck up and ignored that her palms were sweaty. What was she, some crusty old guy? Music would be alright, and nothing special would happen during this exam. God, she really needed to calm down.

Notes:

I just realized how badly written this is... IT WILL GET BETTER HANG ON PLEASE

Re-written 10/07/21, still not much better because of how shit it was before. Whatever, I tried. The next chapters are much better though, so if you’re thinking about dipping, the quality is infinitely better at around chapter 9 (where I finally figured that maybe proofreading isn’t a bad idea), but every child can see the writing improve with each chapter.

Chapter 3: Witches are superior, fuck off

Notes:

We´re getting there. Bare with me, I know the first chapter was terrible but what can you do.
I think I spider=I think I´m going crazy. (It´s literally translated)
Also, Alethia speaks german (it's in the **) at first because she´s going to a german school, where everyone would speak german of course.

Edit: Gagged a few times re-writing this, but now it’s fine have fun. German is underlined, but translations are in brackets, so you don’t have to scroll

With a sigh, Alethia took her seat in the music room. She really didn’t have a clue about anything, so she was hoping that it would be about ballet. Ballet was one of Alethia’s like, three, hobbies. Tonight would be one of her last rehearsals before the performance of ‘Aurora’ (but she played a tree or something), so she had brought her ballet things with her.

 

 

When everyone in her class had settled down, the teacher began handing out the exam.

 

 

Alethia turned her paper around and stared at it for a bit. She had no clue what she was going to do because this didn’t make any sense to her.

 

 

Checking all the questions, she finally found one she could remember learning about for last years exams and started working on it. Then she decided to look at the second paper.

 

 

Alethia could’ve (metaphorically) kissed her teacher then and there. She looked up at Mrs. Jung, who stared at the void. Alethia ignored her and went back to the paper.

 

 

The task was simple enough: Write a summary of one of the following ballets which we learned about. The Choices were Gabrielle, Aurora, and Swan Lake.

 

 

Excited, Alethia started writing her summary. She was so invested in finishing the task that her sudden change in scenery didn´t occur to her yet.

 

 

After a moment, Alethia looked up to gather her thoughts, hoping to avoid the dead gaze of her teacher, when she noticed that complete strangers were staring at her. Well, they weren´t exactly strangers, it was just that normally, they were fictional.

 

 

“Solltest du nicht eine Maske tragen?”  (Shouldn’t you be wearing a mask?) Alethia asked, pointing to the one she was wearing herself.

 

 

Everyone just kept staring at her. “Sprichst du Deutsch?” (Do you speak German?) she asked the person standing next to her, a girl in some medieval dress.

 

 

Apparently not. Alethia thought to herself.

 

 

So she tried English this time. "Do you speak English?" she asked the girl, which was still staring at her with wide eyes. Still, no response. So in her best German mock-accent she said to herself "I think I spider."

 

 

Suddenly, the man that looked like Ned Stark got up and strode towards her, hand on the pommel of a very real looking great sword in hand. "What do you want from my people, witch?" he asked her and pointed his sword at her.

 

"Let’s clear things up here, okay?" Alethia replied. "First of all, I’m not a witch, even though that would be pretty cool, not gonna lie. Second of all, that sword looks really sharp and I’m trying to concentrate here." At that, Alethia pointed at her exam.

 

"And last, but certainly not fucking least, put on a goddamn mask you Ned Stark Wannabe. I get that you’re some kind of LARPer but that doesn´t change the fact that we´re in the middle of a fucking pandemic."

 

The man stared. It looked like he was about to hit her. "You dare speak to me like that? And who taught you such foul speech? It is unfit for a girl your age, even if she is lowborn."

 

Alethia was fuming. It didn’t happen often that she got this vocal with someone, but this guy was really not acting nice.

 

 "Look, I don’t know where in New York I am right now, and I get that this place can be very whacky, but apart from the fact that you´re not wearing a mask and that you are some medieval classist, apparently, you’re threatening me with a big-ass sword. I get it, you Americans have this right to bear arms thing, but I´m still going to call the cops on you."

 

Somewhere in front of her, someone whispered very loudly "She’s a madwoman."

 

"The thing is, I don’t know why I am at this highly illegal renaissance fair right now, or who bent the laws of physics so I could see some anti-vax cosplayers, who are extremely good by the way, and it would be really helpful if someone here would break character and tell me where I am. And also, I am most certainly not mad, I just saw a psychologist last week." She glared in the direction where the comment had come from.

 

When no one said anything, Alethia suddenly became very conscious of the fact that she hadn´t given anyone the chance to speak after her rant.

 

Another man came towards her desk. He was old and wore something that looked like a roman toga. "Though I cannot believe your statement about not being a witch, I may help you with your current location, so you can return to this ‘New York’ you speak of. I do not know what these strange things you speak of are and I have never heard of the words LARP or pandemic before, but I do know that we are in Winterfell and-"

 

Alethia laughed. "Winterfell? That´s a great joke, really funny. I mean you all look the part. You look like Maester Luwin and your bro there is basically a doppelgänger to Eddard Stark and we´ve got all the Starks and even Theon all lined up over there. How cute. Still in denial about Season 8?" She stood to stop her inferiority complex and was satisfied when she saw that she was taller than the Maester.

 

Again, Theon-Wannabe said "She´s mad and a witch too."

 

“Yes, we covered that already.” Alethia replied

 

The reincarnation of Eddard Stark both chose to ignore him. But while Alethia tried to get back to her exam, Ned Stark pointed his sword at her throat. "Who are you and how do you know our names." he demanded.

 

Alethia sighed and looked at him. She decided that this was either a fever dream or she had accidentally shifted realities, but she did not want to risk it.

 

So, in her best medieval impression she said "I am Alethia of the great house Stahl. I apologize for my misconduct."

 

Being highborn certainly wouldn´t hurt, Alethia thought. On an afterthought she added "And I would like to speak to you in private... my Lord."

 

"Why would I risk my life to speak to some witch that would try to kill me." he asked, this time much calmer.

 

"I am but a woman. I am unarmed and do not possess any magic. If you are afraid to face me, then I cannot believe that the men in this place are any kind of brave.” Alethia replied. At least there was a chance that something good would come out of this sexist society, because some great lord certainly couldn´t afford to be "unmanly".

 

Ned Stark seemed to agree to that.

 

"Guards, escort Lady Alethia Stahl to my office." He commanded and Alethia realized that she would be all alone with a stoic and not funny version of Sean Bean. Seemed just like her luck.

 

And so, Alethia picked up her bag and flanked by two guards, made her way out of the Great Hall of Winterfell, followed by many whispers.

 

 

 

Notes:

She’s in Winterfell. Her music teacher is probably having a blast. Revised 10/07/21.

Kudos and Feedback are appreciated :)

Chapter 4: With great power comes great responsibility

Summary:

Alethia and Ned find a place for Alethia in Winterfell. Theon is an asshole but what´s new. TW: attempted rape/sexual assault

Alethia was following the guards to Lord Stark’s office. They didn't bother talking to her and Alethia was immensely grateful for that.

 

She was still recovering from the situation in the Great Hall and besides, she needed time to think. Right now, she didn't know whether the books or the show were canon. She had watched and read both, but until now, the books didn't confirm that Jon was a Targaryen. She would’ve tried to use that with Ned Stark, but it could go terribly wrong if she wasn't right.

 

There were so many other questions she had to ask herself as well. Would the future that was portrayed in the books and the show even take place, now that she was here? What was the best way she could possibly survive if she wasn't able to get home? Should she go to King’s Landing with Lord Stark, or should she try and stop him from going at all? Should she try to get to Daenerys, or should she try to stop the Lannisters from killing Robert? Should she help Robb and stop him from manifesting his death or should she maybe just make a run for it and leave for one of the Free Cities? She could feel her head beginning to spin when the guards pushed her into a room.

 

Alethia decided to awkwardly stand in a corner, since that’s what they always seemed to do until they were offered a seat by their "superiors". Finally, Ned Stark walked in and sat down behind the massive desk. He pointed to the seat on the other side of his desk. Alethia took that as her queue to sit down.

 

With what Alethia would interpret as curiosity, Ned Stark stared at her. At last, he began to speak. "So, you claim you are not a witch, but that you being here is an accident?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Yes, my Lord." Eddard corrected.

 

Alethia sighed. She had never understood why Lords were so stuck up about their Lordliness. Everyone knew that they were Lords, but they didn't have to rub into their faces all the time.

 

"And why should I believe you?" Ned Stark asked. "You could be lying, waiting to kill me."

 

By now, Alethia was panicking. She knew she should keep eye contact, but it was still difficult for her. Not keeping eye contact would make it look like she was lying though. She had no clue what to say, so she just started talking.

 

"Don't you think that, as a witch, I would’ve been more prepared? I could’ve probably killed you and your family three times over if that was my goal as a witch, but I didn't.". Alethia could tell that Ned Stark was neither buying it, nor looking any friendlier, so she kept talking before he could try to burn her or whatever it was they did with witches here.

 

"You know, you really don't have any reason to trust me, my Lord." she went on.

 

Not good, not good at all. Ned had his hand on the hilt of a dagger and was tensing up. She quickly added "but I promise, I'm not lying. I swear it, by the old gods and the new and whatever supernatural power brought me here. Besides, I can help you."

 

"How could you possibly help me?" Ned Stark asked, though he seemed less threatening than before.

 

Alethia sighed. She was a good liar, but she knew that here, the truth would work better. She really didn't want to be associated with any sort of magic right now.

 

"Lord Stark, I know that what you are about to hear may be hard to comprehend, but it is the truth. It's the reason why I knew your name, as well as that of Maester Luwin and many other people in Westeros.” Alethia paused, searching for words.

 

 Where I'm from, Westeros is a story, a book to entertain the masses. And I can help you, because I know the future of Westeros, or more precisely, the future that will take place if I don't interfere, that was written in this book."

 

Ned Stark stared. "So what is this future you are talking about, Lady Stahl?"

 

"If I told you, it wouldn't take place and perhaps Westeros would devolve into complete chaos. But in the books, you are a good man, Lord Stark. What will happen to you and your family is not a fate anyone should deserve, which is why I will try to help you, but you must take my advice, and you must let me live." Alethia said ominously.

 

"Very well, that sounds about fair. But you must prove yourself, and you will have to make yourself useful in some way, otherwise the servants will begin to wonder who you really are." Ned replied.

 

Alethia thought for a bit. "I can understand your concerns my Lord. How about this: I make myself useful by tutoring Arya. I know she has trouble with the septa. I might be able to instill some knowledge in her, I am sure that she can be very intelligent if she wants." Alethia knew that Arya was Ned’s favorite, so this was probably the best go-to.

 

"As for proving myself, there will be a deserter from the Night’s Watch soon. He will be paralyzed with fear, because he saw something you should pray you will never encounter. And very soon, your sigil will be much more present in your everyday life than you'd expect right now."

 

"Good. I think Arya is in dire need of a good tutor. As for your knowledge of the future, we will see. You may take your leave."

 

"Thank you, my Lord." Alethia was trying to get away as soon as possible.

 

"One more thing, Lady Stahl." Ned said when she had almost reached the door. "You claim you are from a great house. I will make sure you will be treated accordingly, but first I would like to know, what are the words of your house?"

 

Alethia paused. She should’ve known that this question would come, yet she wasn't prepared. Fuck, this was like a job interview – only that her life might be on the line. Then, she remembered watching Spider-Man with Morgan. "With great power comes great responsibility." she replied and left the office.

 

 

 

 

 

After Alethia had been shown to her room and been given "more proper clothes" she started to wander around the castle, exploring. Most people had been avoiding her scurrying off as soon as she came into sight, but Alethia didn't mind. She didn't want to talk to anyone anyways. Suddenly, she heard a voice behind her.

 

"Are you lost, my Lady?" Alethia knew that Theon was smirking as soon as she heard that voice, dripping with arrogance. She almost felt bad for him, knowing what ill fortune was going to befall him, until he opened his mouth again. "You know I've never fucked a mad woman before." he said.

 

"It can stay that way." Alethia replied, calmly, beginning to walk away.

 

"But I don't want it to." Theon said, smirking in a very rapey way. Alethia could feel his hot breath on her neck.

 

Suddenly, Theon pushed her against the wall. Alethia struggled against him, but he was four years older and much taller.

 

When he turned her to face him, she tried to slap him, but he held down her hands. So instead, she opted for kneeing him in the groin. Instantly, Theon let go of her. "You crazy bitch." he snarled.

 

He was about to lunge at her when Jon appeared at the end of the hallway. "Let go of her Theon." he said coolly.

 

"You can't tell me what to do, bastard." Theon scowled.

 

"No, I can't." Jon replied, masking his hurt, "but my father can."

 

Reluctantly, Theon let go of Alethia. He shot one more dirty look in her direction and left.

 

"I didn't need your help you know." she snarled in Jon's direction.

 

"You're welcome." Jon replied, almost as stoic as his Lord Father. He said nothing more and pushed past her, presumably to find a dummy to hack at with a sword.

Notes:

This chapter got deleted twice!!! The chapters are getting longer and longer but who cares.
Rewritten 17/07/21

Chapter 5: Things I Didn’t Learn in High School

Summary:

Alethia eats dinner with the Starks and Theon and gets to know Jon better.

After her run-in with Theon, Alethia wasn’t in the mood for any exploring anymore, so she went back to the chamber that had been assigned to her. It was getting dark, and she had a feeling that there would be dinner soon.

 

As soon as Alethia had settled in in her chamber she regretted not occupying herself, as her mind began to wander again. She couldn’t help it, but she kept wondering if she would stay here forever or if this was just a fever dream. She could feel her anxiety-levels rising, but thankfully, there was a knock on the door to interrupt her train of thoughts. Alethia sighed and opened the door.

 

She didn’t know who she had expected, but it certainly hadn’t been Robb Stark.

 

"I’m to escort you to the Great Hall Lady Stahl." he said, not looking very enthusiastic about the prospect of having to spend time with someone who was possibly mad.

 

Alethia didn’t exactly know what was expected of her. "Thank you." she said and walked out of her room, leaving Robb behind. She knew the way to the Great Hall after all.

 

"Aren’t you going to take my arm?" Robb seemed confused by her behavior.

 

"Oh…okay." Alethia wasn’t very comfortable with touching a stranger but seeing that she didn’t really have a choice she linked her arm with his.

 

When Robb and Alethia arrived at the high table, he showed her seat. As quickly as humanly possible, Alethia yanked her arm from Robb’s and sat down.

 

It was obvious that no one at the table wanted to talk to her, except for Arya and Bran, who were basically bouncing with curiosity.

 

Alethia suspected that she was probably seated here because she was supposedly highborn. When the food arrived, Alethia watched how everyone else was eating. She had lived in many different countries after all and didn’t want to offend the Starks even more, if that was even possible. The show hadn’t exactly showcased the manners that were expected from ladies in Westeros, except curtsies and piety.

 

"Is something wrong with the food, my Lady?" Catelyn Stark asked.

 

Aside from the fact that Alethia had been a vegetarian for quite a time now and her certainty that the standards of hygiene for food preparation in times like this were terrible, nothing was wrong for Alethia.

 

She knew that the truth would probably confuse Catelyn even more, knowing that she had never left Westeros, but it was something that could lead to a conversation. Alethia hated conversations but she didn’t want to be stared at like an animal in the zoo.

 

"I didn’t wish to offend any more. After all, we might have a very different set of manners." said Alethia.

 

"It can’t be that different. How else would you eat?" asked Catelyn.

 

"Well, where I’m from, some countries have completely different cultures than others. The forks you are using for example, I’ve never used one of them."

 

"You sound like you have traveled a lot and know about the cultures of a lot of different peoples." Catelyn replied.

 

"I guess you could say that. It’s not like I’ve visited that many countries, but yeah I’ve probably seen quite a bit for my age."

 

"Really, where have you been?" Arya asked a bit loudly. Alethia knew that she loved stories and so did Bran. She smiled to herself. Arya would have loved the life she had lived so far.

 

"Don’t interrupt Arya, that’s rude." Sansa said. Arya looked a bit downcast.

 

"The names of the countries I’ve been to probably won’t mean anything to you, but I’ll do my best to describe them. I was born in Buenos Aires in Argentina. The people there are very lively, and the beaches are gorgeous. When I was two, my parents and I moved to Taipei. It’s the capital of Taiwan and it’s basically on the other side of the earth. We lived there for about one and a half years and then we moved back to the country my parents are from, Germany.

 

We lived in a city called Frankfurt until I was five. By then, my parents got a divorce. I stayed with my mom, and we moved to London. There, my mom met my stepdad and they married. After two years we moved to China and then after two years again we moved to India. I was nine by that time. India is great. I think you could compare the food and the architecture to that of Dorne. When I was ten, we moved to Singapore." Alethia paused.

 

"I love Singapore. It’s not a very big country, but it’s basically a country from the future. Everything is very modern. My half-brother Eric was born in Singapore. Unlike me, he got to have a normal name. We lived in Singapore for two years and then we moved to New York. New York is in America and though I don’t really agree with a lot of American concepts, living in America meant I got to train more for my passions. I’m probably going to study in the Juilliard. It’s a school of performing arts. If that doesn’t work out, I would like to go to Harvard to study law."

Now, everyone was staring at Alethia.

 

Great, she thought, I got way too into it. Then they all started asking questions at the same time.

 

"What languages do you speak?" Was your family exiled?" "What’s a divorce?" "Why did you move around that much?" "What’s a school?"

 

"One at a time please." Alethia interrupted. She couldn’t take all the talking. It was too stuffy, and the noises were too loud anyways, and it was all too much for her taste.

 

"Was your family exiled? Why did highborn have to move around like some circus troupe?" Eddard asked.

 

"The concept of being highborn doesn’t really work the way it does where I’m from than how it works here." Alethia replied. "My mother was a diplomat for Germany, so we had to move around a lot."

 

"How many languages do you speak?" Arya asked. Catelyn looked so disappointed that even Alethia could tell Arya shouldn’t have spoken, probably her older brother had the right to answer first.

 

Nonetheless, she replied: "Let’s see. German is my mother tongue, but I also speak English like a mother tongue. I speak Spanish and French fluently, my Mandarin is alright, and I can survive in Hindi."

 

"That’s quite impressive for a fourteen-year-old. What exactly is this divorce you spoke of, and how could your mother remarry after your father’s death?" Catelyn asked.

 

"My father’s not dead, let’s start with that. A divorce is when a married couple doesn’t get along anymore, so they undo the marriage. My mom met my stepdad and they fell in love, so they got married."

 

Catelyn Stark looked so disturbed, Alethia thought she had just either seen a ghost or found put about polyamory in general. "That’s highly improper. Highborn ladies don’t marry out of love. Besides, how could she give birth to a bastard. She could be stoned in Westeros."

 

"Well thank god she’s not in Westeros then.” Alethia snorted.

 

“Where I’m from, arranged marriages are extremely rare and outdated. Most people marry out of love. If it doesn’t work out, you get a divorce. And my brother is not a bastard. The whole concept doesn’t exist anymore, not in most countries."

 

"It doesn’t?" Jon spoke up for the first time, his voice filled with emotions.

 

"Nope, completely outdated. And anyways, it doesn’t make sense. Bastards aren’t any less human and they shouldn’t be punished for the actions of their parents." Alethia stared at Ned.

 

There was a very uncomfortable pause. "So, if I was from where you are from, Jon would be my brother, like actually a legitimate brother?" Arya asked.

 

"Yeah totally."

 

"That is absolutely fantastic. We should go where you are from, don’t you think father?"

 

Alethia saw Robb pretending to cover up a laugh with excessive coughing out of the corner of her eye.

 

"Arya, that is highly improper to say for a Lady, even if anyone agreed. Besides, we don’t know if Lady Stahl can go back." Ned said sternly.

 

"Okay, any more questions?" Alethia asked.

 

"What is a school?" Sansa asked.

 

"A school is an institution where all children go to learn how to read and write and such. Imagine the way you get tutored, only 26 children. Everything that all of you learn, I learn in the first four years of school. After that, there are usually eight or nine more. You have many more subjects that you must study for like science and different languages. After that, if you successfully finish school you can study at another institution for education and go on to start your career."

 

"With this improper world you live in, I take it even women are allowed to go past basic education and learn more and then even start to work." Theon had surely been sarcastic.

 

Alethia couldn’t help but smirk. "You nailed it Theon."

 

"So, what are you going to be when you grow up?" Bran asked.

 

"I don’t know yet. I would love to pursue my dreams as a ballerina, but I’m not good enough so I’m going to study law and become an attorney."

 

"What’s that?" Robb wanted to know.

 

"It’s complicated to explain. Where I’m from, every criminal gets a trial. Not by combat of course, such principles would be seen as corrupted. There are a few judges, a state attorney and an attorney defending the criminal."

 

"Why would anyone want a bloody woman defending them?" asked Theon.

 

"Because where I’m from, gender equality is a principle that exists. Besides, women tend to make very good attorneys. ESPECIALLY in cases of sexual assault."

 

"This kind of talk isn’t suited for the ears of young girls, my Lady. Maybe we should all eat?" suggested Lady Catelyn, pursing her lips.

"Yes, of course." Alethia replied, meekly attempting to return to the image of a proper lady.

 

 

 

 

 

After dinner, Arya came up to Alethia. "Your world is really amazing. You can be whatever you want."

 

"I agree, but you can do that here as well Arya, you just have to fight harder."

 

"I’m so excited for you to be my tutor." Arya said and seemingly satisfied, went skipping away.

 

Alethia knew she probably shouldn’t, but she was so going to instill modern feminist ideas in Arya.

 

"Your world sounds very progressive." Jon said.

 

"I mean considering it’s about a thousand years in the future, yes, it is."

 

Jon smiled. "Arya is going to idolize you, you know."

"She deserves to be who she wants. I know she doesn’t like being a lady. She should be able to learn how to fight and to explore and not to be married off to some lord she will never love."

 

"You speak in strange and very bold tongues, my Lady." was all that Jon said, before laughing.

 

"You don’t speak much at all." They both laughed. "Teach me how to fight Jon, please. And don’t call me my Lady, just Alethia is enough."

 

"You are too kind."

 

"Nope, just decent. Will you teach me?” she asked again.

 

"No."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Because." Jon insisted and Alethia rolled her eyes. How old was this guy?

 

"That’s stupid. I need to learn to defend myself."

 

"For what?"

 

"Winter is coming." Alethia knew Jon had no idea about the Walkers, but she said it, nonetheless. Always sounded impressive when he did with his accent and brooding.

 

"Snow won’t hurt you, you know."

 

"Just please."

 

"Fine. But don’t complain about being sore." Jon said, handing her a small knife.

 

"I won’t, I promise."

 

“Meet me in the Godswood tomorrow, we can begin to practice then.” Jon said, and left for his own room.

 

“Hmm.” Alethia mumbled, twirling the knife in her fingers. That had been easier than she’d expected.

Notes:

They just keep getting longer and longer, huh? Feedback is appreciated.

Rewritten 17/07/21

Chapter 6: This is nothing like high school musical

Summary:

Alethia proves her "powers", high school expectations are subverted via beheading

Notes:

Happy new year!

The next few days and weeks went by like a blur. Alethia spent most of her time teaching Arya or practicing with Jon.

 

Most of the time Arya was a good student and when she wasn’t, Alethia could usually bribe her with stories of badass female warriors like the Black Widow or Ahsoka Tano. The more practice she got with Jon the more confident she felt with a sword and the more comfortable she got around him.

 

At this point, Alethia didn’t know if the plot of the books or the show would even take place. She had been here for three months now and settled into the castle quite well. Almost no one thought of her as a witch anymore and Theon left her alone for the most part. She had even managed to sneak out a few times at night to practice ballet and swim in the springs.

 

Would the King even come?

 

It was her thirteenth week at Winterfell when the rider arrived. By now, Alethia didn’t eat with the Starks a lot. She preferred talking to the common folk. Their stories were much more interesting, and they were generally a lot more chill.

 

When Jon wasn’t trying to prove himself to Theon and Robb or his father, she taught him gen z slang. She was currently trying to explain “no shit Sherlock” but was interrupted by Maester Luwin.

 

“Lord Stark requests your presence at the high table my Lady.” he said and hurried back to his seat at said place. Alethia sighed and got up from her seat. Eddard Stark was still fucking intimidating, even when he was very nice to her most of the time.

 

“Lord Stark.”

 

“Lady Stahl. Have a seat, we have something to discuss.” Alethia sat at the free space and waited for Eddard to begin talking.

 

Eddard hesitated and then told Catelyn to take the children outside.

 

When they were gone, he began talking: “Your prophecy has come true. I am to execute a traitor of the Night’s Watch today.” Lord Eddard told her with a heavy voice.

 

“And what does that have to do with me?” Alethia replied. Lord Stark was a man of few words. He wouldn’t have called upon her if he didn’t want something from her.

 

“You will come with me. Along with Robb, Theon, Bran and Jon.”

 

Alethia was slightly disturbed by the thought but nodded. She had of course seen the scene in the show but watching someone’s head chopped of right in front of you was something else.

 

“Is that all?” she asked.

 

“Have one of the horses readied. We ride as soon as possible.”

 

Alethia knew what that meant. They would ride when Ned was done with breakfast and had said his prayers. She walked towards the doors and picked Jon up on the way.

 

“Your father is going to execute a traitor of the Night's Watch and we’re supposed to go with him.” Alethia told him.

 

Jon sniggered. “I can’t wait to see you ride again, Al.”

 

“Oh, shut up Jon, that wasn’t my fault.” Alethia replied, embarrassed. She remembered the first time she was supposed to ride her horses with the Starks to Wintertown.

 

After faking the worst fever, she had begged Jon, who’d stayed back, to teach her how to ride. Jon, like everyone else, was baffled by the idea of a lady not knowing how to ride and had laughed at her for about half an hour (okay maybe not that long) before teaching her the basics. Since then, Alethia had managed to stay in her saddle if she didn’t ride too fast.

 

But still, Alethia was very okay with the idea of staying away from horses for now.

 

 

 

 

Alethia felt sick to her stomach. She hadn’t intended to look at the execution, but after Theon had made one of his sexist comments again, she wanted to prove him wrong. Well, she had managed that, now she only had to keep herself from throwing up.

 

Suddenly, she saw Jon and Robb racing away. She knew what that meant, and she was proved right. After the rest of the group had caught up with Robb and Jon, they saw the stag. Soon after, Jon found the direwolves.

 

“We should kill them.” Theon suggested.

 

Alethia had zoned out but payed attention when Theon said his line. She waited for Jon to say his line, but he never did. Theon was about to kill the first direwolf, the one Sansa would later call Lady, when Alethia quietly spoke up.

 

As she didn’t talk much otherwise and hadn’t said a word since they’d left Winterfell, everyone turned around.

 

Instantly, Alethia felt uncomfortable, yet she managed to deliver Jon’s line. “Don’t kill them, my Lord. Your children were meant to have them. They are after all, the sigil of your house. And look, there are three boys and two girls, just like your children.”

 

Of course, Bran, who seemed absolutely amazed and yet terrified of the idea, began begging his father to keep them. Ned delivered his little responsibility speech, and they were off again. About ten minutes later, they found Ghost.

 

 

 

 

 

Alethia had just finished hurling her guts out, when Jon knocked on her door. She opened the door and, like every time, had to ask ever so respectful Jon Snow to come into her room. She knew about the gossip in the castle. Quite frankly, she didn’t give a fuck.

 

“Now that your done with throwing up-.” Jon began.

 

“Let me stop you right there,” Alethia interrupted “if you tell Theon, I swear to god, you will catch these hands.”

 

“I won’t tell, pinky promise.” Jon replied seriously. Ever since Alethia had told him that breaking the pinky swear would mean his pinky got cut off, he took it very seriously, which Al in turn found absolutely hilarious.

 

“Anyways, as I was saying, Robert Baratheon will come to Winterfell soon.” After seeing Alethia turn as pale as a ghost in the prospect of a FUCKING FEAST with hundreds of people Jon carefully added “it’s your social anxiety for me.”

 

Alethia laughed. Jon using those phrases brought her a big comfort and even though it stung, remembering everything she left behind, it also made her feel more at home.

 

“Thank you, Jon.,”

 

“For what?”

 

“For everything.” Alethia was sure that Jon thought she was just saying that, but she meant it.

 

He’d taught her how to ride, fight and live in this world in general. Even though she hoped to go back every day, a part of her wanted to stay as well.

 

In the prospect of not going back, she had tried to get over Morgan. It still hurt like hell, but it got better every day. And besides, she had Jon as a friend now. Prejudice and shared experiences had brought them closer together. She knew she could trust him. At least for now.

 

Notes:

My family and I are currently relocating, which is why I won´t be updating as regulary. My internet is pretty bad, which is why I couldn´t update yesterday but I´ll do my best.

Rewritten 17/07/21

Chapter 7: Seating arrangements

Summary:

We get to see Arya and Al talking in their lessons, the king arrives at Winterfell, Joffrey is an ass and Tyrion is pretty cool. (Al-> Alethias nickname)

"Arya I know you can do it, you´re not dumb you´re just lazy." Alethia groaned. Arya was refusing to do her math problems, again. When Arya was in a good mood, her lessons would be over in an hour. But today was not the day. She had been in a terrible mood for the whole day, the prospect of wearing a dress and talking to southern ladies made her mad and now she was refusing to do any work.

"If you do your work you can go outside and play with Nymeria until you have to get ready." Alethia argued

"Well, I don´t want to get ready for the stupid prince and the stupid ladies. This whole thing is totally useless." Arya argued back. "What a brat:" Alethia thought. Even though Arya was much better than Sansa, she still had her moments where Alethia thought it would be good for her to see how cruel this world actually was. She was going to get her chance in the future anyways so Alethia didn´t bother.

"Let´s make a deal: you do your work and I´ll tell you a story about Athena." Al offered

"Who´s Athena?" Arya asked curiously.

"What a shame I can´t tell you what an amazing woman she was." Al sighed in fake distress

Finally, Arya got to work.

<<<<>>>>

After getting Arya to her room, Alethia decided to go talk to Lady Catelyn. While she admired the strength Catelyn showed and would show in the future, the two of them didn´t exactly get along. They were on friendly terms, as was expected, but their different views on things, mainly marriage, politics and Jon kept them from actually becoming friends. Al was going to her because she was basically the event manager. Al found Catelyn in the Great Hall.

"My Lady" she said, and managed a clumsy curtsy. The limited time she and Sansa had been together, Sansa had taught her how too be a "real lady" meaning she taught her how to curtsy, walk, talk and exist with a ladylike air. Alethia managed to do the bare minimum, but it seemed to be enough.

"Lady Alethia, it is a pleasure to see you. I have been wanting to speak to you for a while now. How are Arya´s lessons going?"

"Quite good. She´s a fast learner when she wants to. I expect that´s not the reason you wanted to speak to me?" Alethia asked

"Indeed it is not. I wanted to speak to you because of the feast. There are seating arrangements and you will be escorted to your seat by someone." Catelyn had a look of pity on her face.

"And that someone is? I wouldn´t mind being escorted by Jon, my Lady."

Lady Catelyn looked utterly horrified by the thought of Jon as a person.

"Oh no, Jon won´t be sitting at the high table today, it might seem like an insult to the royal family, him being a bastard and all. You´ll be escorted by Tyrion Lannister. I´m sorry Lady Alethia, I don´t wish to slight you in any way, but your ranks only make it fitting that you and Lord Tyrion walk together."

Alethia couldn´t believe it. She didn´t care what they said about Tyrion, she respected him deeply, both in the show and the books. Not only was he smart and funny, but he was a good person too and Alethia knew that he really only wanted to be appreciated.

"No offence was taken, my Lady. I´ve heard of Lord Tyrions sharp tongue and wit. I´m quite happy to finally meet him."

Lady Catelyn looked visibly relieved. "Well, good that that´s clear. Why don´t you go get ready, the king and his party are arriving soon. I´ll take care of Arya."

Now it was Alethia´s turn to be relieved. Getting herself ready would be a struggle in itself but getting Arya ready had grown to be one of her greatest fears since coming to Winterfell.

<<<<>>>>

Alethia was sitting in her room, pondering on what to wear, when there was a soft knock on the door. This was neither Arya or Jon, they wiuld both knock agressively and then walk in like they owned the place. This was a true lady.

"Come in Lady Sansa." Alethia called out.

"Hello Lady Alethia" Sansa said, thinking over what to say next. "Ummm, I know you´re not really a westerosi Lady, so I thought I´d help you to get ready." She looked down nervously concentrating on the bag in her hands.

"Thank you, Lady Sansa. I could really use your help." Sansa was already in her clothes and had done her hair in a still northern style. "You look wonderful by the way."

"Thank you my Lady. I mean no offence, but you have no festive clothing, so I altered one of my old dresses to fit you. And call me Sansa please, I would like us to be friends"

"Sansa, you´re the best!"

"I would help Arya get ready but she would probably set Nymeria on me. This is the dress."

The dress was absolutely gorgeous. It was a dark green with gold embroidery details on the arms and the waist with dagged sleeves. When Alethia put it on, it fit perfectly. She turned around and hugged Sansa. "You´re on the best way to becoming my firend. This is absolutely beautiful."

"Will you let me do your hair?" Sansa asked.

"Of course, I have no idea how that stuff works."

When Sansa was done, Alethia barely recognized herself. Her dark blond hair had been braided back on the sides. The two strands on each side meet in a braid that went down the back of her head. It was complemented by the golden details on the dress. The green of the dress brought out her eyes, Alethia looked like an actual medieval lady, and for the first time, she actually felt like it.

"I barely recognize myself, I look so... nice." Alethia said

"You should wear that necklace you have on anyways, it´s golden too, so it´ll match." Sansa said. Even though she had just gotten praised, she remained humble, as was expected of a Lady.

"You are heavensent Sansa, I don't know what I would´ve done without you."

Finally, Sansa blushed a bit. "Thank you, Alethia. I´m going to find mother, see if she needs help with anything."

After Sansa had left, Alethia put on her necklace. It wasn´t actually real gold, but it didn´t hurt if no one knew that. Morgan had given it to her. It was a simple gold necklace with a gold coin as a pendant. Alethia put on her piercings too. She hadn´t worn them since coming here, but they would go nicely and if things got to awkward, they´d make for a good conversation starter.

After about half an hour it knocked on her door again. "Come in Jon." Alethia called. She had been sitting in the chair Sansa had left her in, not daring to move. She had feared that she´d ruin her dress or hair.

"Father said that they will arrive soon. Apparently you know where we are sitting but not where you are supposed to stand when they arrived. And-"

Jon broke of when he actually looked at Alethia.

"Wow Al, you look... if I didn´t know you, I´d think you would actually know how to curtsy."

"You could have been actually nice for once and then you told me that I make a terrible Lady Jon. That´s sad."

"I know I´m charming." Jon said, smiling. "Let´s go, before we´re there later than Arya."

"Arya? Late? Not on her mothers watch." Al said

"Well, she´s not exactly with Lady Catelyn anymore, which means that you, as her tutor, should at least try setting a better example."

"Lead the way then, Jon"

<<<<>>>>

Alethia had been placed between Rickon and Theon. Even though she was highly uncomfortable next to Theon, the thought of Lady Catelyn holding her in higher esteem than Theon brought her endless gratification. The cloak Jon had made with her was actually warm and Theon seemed to be holding back for the moment. Her legs were getting a bit numb when the royal party rode in. Al sniggered to herself at Jaime´s prince charming look and almost missed her queue to kneel.

Robert Baratheon got out and told Ned that he had gotten fat. After they had all gotten up, Bobby B delivered his lines to Catelyn, Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon until he stood right in front of Alethia.

"Your Grace" Alethia tried and curtsied.

Robert Baratheon looked at her for a while, seemingly undressing her with his eyes. Alethia was about to ask him if he was feeling alright when he finally spoke.

"Are you this Alethia? Ye look more like some long-lost Lannister."

"I can assure you that I am not, your Grace, not to my knowledge at least. I might be wrong though." Alethia replied

"Ye got a pretty face."

"Uhh, thank you?"

"Yer welcome. Ned, I want to pay my respects in the crypts."

<<<<>>>>

Tyrion Lannister was nowhere to be found. Well, he could be found in the brothel, but no one seemed to bother with trying to get him to the feast. Alethia was a bit lost until Catelyn came up to her. "I´m so sorry Alethia, we tried everything to find him. Jaime Lannister will escort you."

"Okay" Alethia said. She didn´t really mind. At least he wouldn´t stare at her. He was to preoccupied with his sister after all.

Jaime Lannister didn´t even bother looking at her and just offered his arm. They walked to the high table together and Alethia tried to make an apologetic facce in Jons direction. Before she sat down, she payed her respects to the king and the queen. The queen got up and said "Lannister or not, it is a pleasure to finally meet you, we have heard so much about you, my Lady."

Alethia was surprised by this. Normally, Cersei gave zero fucks about people she didn´t have to pay attention to. She was even more surprised when Cersei leaned down to kiss her cheeck. That is, until she whispered in her ear. "You will never be a Lannister. If you look at my brother like that again, I´ll have you killed, slut."

Feeling brave, Alethia whispered back "No worries your Grace, I won´t touch your prince charming with a stick if I don´t have to."

With that, she took her seat and started eating, not caring if the King had started to eat yet. She might just be dead before the night was over.

Notes:

dress: https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/medieval-dress-tunic-forest-princess
hair: https://www.google.com/search?q=medieval+hairstyles&rlz=1C1NMEO_deDE931DE931&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwj-_KHx_v7tAhXvyDgGHfMWCvMQ_AUoAXoECBkQAw&biw=1280&bih=578#imgrc=gTHh9cBQcIXREM
piercings:https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ee/d1/f5/eed1f565ccbc5a5bede02adda6859fb1.jpg

and: https://i.pinimg.com/474x/5e/42/6a/5e426a52f6d9d1be1ae10505515fe877.jpg

Chapter 8: It´s cold at the Wall

Summary:

The real plot begins! Alethia gets sent to the Wall, talks to Jon and Catelyn
TW: sexual assualt/harrassment

The feast was in full swing. Alethia was thinking about slipping away and finding Jon, who had left earlier after his fight with a man who seemed to be uncle Benjen. She was about to get up when Lady Catelyn told Robb to bring Arya and Sansa to bed. The only exit left was the one where the king was standing and flirting with a serving girl. It would have to do. Alethia got up and made her way around dancing ladies and groping men, oblivious of the watchful eyes of Cersei, Catelyn and Ned. She was almost past the king when she felt someone grope her from behind.

 

Without thinking, Alethia whirled around and slapped the man who had touched her, Lady or not, she wasn´t just going to let this go with a smile. She immediately regretted her actions when she saw that it was the king she had hit, who was now apparently trying to do the same thing. Alethia ducked and took a few steps back. The king was black-out drunk and he stunk. Alethia could smell him even from a meter away.

 

"My king!" Cersei called out in fake concern "did this woman strike you? You should take her hand, or even better, her head."

 

"Shut it woman." Robert slurred

 

Alethia was terrified of what was going to happen to her. She fekt relieved when she sensed Neds presense beside her. Lady Catelyn was watching a few meters away.

 

"Lady Alethia Stahl is my guest and though what she did was wrong, she will not be killed for practicing self-defense." Ned said calmly.

 

"What do I care, send her to the Watch." Robert said, obviously still drunk.

 

"My husband, you cannot send her to the Night´s Watch, it is only for men." Cersei replied. Robert seemd to think about it. Probably just wanting to spite Cersei, he slowly turned to face his wife and then roared "IF I SAY THAT SHE WILL JOIN THE NIGHTS WATCH THEN SHE WILL JOIN THE FUCKING NIGHTS WATCH."

 

Ned turned pale, as did Alethia. For a moment, everything was quiet in the Great Hall. Then, everyone started talking at once. People started shouting at each other, at the king, at Lord Stark and at Lady Alethia. Alethia stood frozen for a few minutes. Then, she pushed past Ned and walked to the door. In the uproar, no one tried to stop her. That is, no one but the Hound, who stood right outside the door.

 

"Stupid of you to hit the king, my Lady." was all he said

 

"You can drop the whole Lady bullshit, I just want to get some fresh air." replied Alethia

 

"Why should I let you do that, you´re a criminal, apparently."

 

"I didn´t even have a fucking trial. Besides where will I go? I can barely ride, I don´t know the geography, my only fucking useful skill is reading and writing. Tell me, where the FUCK should I go. Thank you." and with that, Alethia pushed past the Hound.

 

"You sure got a foul mouth on you for a lady." the Hound called after her.

 

time skip

 

Alethia had been walking around the castle for some time when she spotted Tyrion and Jon talking.

 

"Hi Lord Tyrion, hey Jon. How´s it hanging?" Alethia asked.

 

"What did she say?" asked Tyrion

 

"She wants to know what we are talking about and how we are feeling, basically." Jon said. He stopped when he saw the dissheveled look on Alethias face. "What happened?"

 

"King groped me, I threw hands." Alethia replied

 

"What is she saying?" asked Tyrion

 

"You HIT the KING?" Jon almost shouted at her.

 

"Wait what?" said Tyrion, looking back and forth between the two.

 

"Yup, looks like I´m joining you in celibacy Jon. The king wants me to join the Night´s Watch."

 

"But he cannot send you to the Night´s Watch, it´s only for men." Jon said

 

"That´s what she said." replied Alethia and walked off. Why did no one want to have a conversation about anything else with her?

 

time skip: the day of the departure

 

Alethia was running around the Winterfell, trying to find Lord Stark. She had to warn him before everything went south (excuse this terrible pun). The last few days, he had been surrounded by guards and advisors. She hadn´t been able to talk to him. She must have gotten lost, because she stumbled upon Brans sickroom. She had found him after coming back from her secret ballet practice and had of course been accused of pushing him but in the end, she wasnßt suspected anymore. She had saved him with basic first aid and human sense after all.

 

"Lady Alethia." Lady Catelyn nodded curtly

 

"Lady Catelyn, I have to talk to Lord Stark." Alethia said.

 

"Lord Stark will not receive you."

 

"May I speak to you?"

 

"You may."

 

"I must warn you. Pleaso stop Lord Stark from going South. The men of the Stark family don´t do well there, we both know it. And if you cannot stop him, please do not go after him and refrain from anything having to do with the Lannisters."

 

"Any other ominous warnings?" Catelyn asked tiredly

 

"Keep his direwolf close." Alethia said, pointing to not-yet-named Summer "and thank you, Lady Catelyn, for everything. I know that you would´ve protected me instead of your husband, if he hadn´t spoken up."

 

"I was only doing my duty."

 

"Unlike many others. I admire you Lady Catelyn. You are an incredible woman, stronger and wiser than many men. Farewell." impressed by her own speech, Alethia left the room.

Notes:

I actually didn´t dislike Robert Baratheon in the series or the books but I had to make him look like an ass here in favour of the plot, sorry

Chapter 9: Thieves, poachers and rapists

Summary:

Jon and Alethia ride north and meet their new brothers. They arrive at Castle Black and Alethia gets her job.

Notes:

I´m not sure when exactly Jon gave Needle to Arya, but here he gave it to her before going to the stables.

When Al walked to the stables, she saw Jon and Robb saying their farewells. She halted abruptly, not wanting to interrupt, which caused Arya to bump into her.

"Whoa, careful Arya. Don´t want you to break anything before you get the chance to go to King´s Landing."

"Hello Al, I just wanted to say goodbye. Thank you for being such an amazing teacher." then she lowered her voice and said "Jon gave me a sword. I named it Needle. Maybe I´ll come visit you at the Wall and then we can see who´s better."

"I would love that." Alethia replied "say goodbye to Nymeria for me. Don´t do anything too stupid, I care about you too much."

"Of course. Bye Al!"

"Bye Arya." she ran off and Alethia sighed. Arya had always been one of her favorite characters on the show and Al had grown even coser to her while tutoring her. She didn´t want Arya to go through the pain that lay in her future.

Alethia was about to go to Jon, seeing that he had also saddled a horse for her, when someone tapped her shoulder. She turned around, expecting to see anyone but Sansa. Sansa had avoided you by all costs since the evening of the feast, which you could understand. At this point, she was still young and betrothed to the King´s son. She would have to take his side.

"Lady Alethia, I wanted to say Goodbye to you. You don´t deserve what happened to you. When I become queen, I´m sure we can figure something out. Maybe Joffrey will let you return from the Wall." she said quietly

"Thank you Sansa, that is very sweet." Alethia felt her heart break for Sansa. Young, naive Sansa who was already thinking about `saving´her. "Sansa, I need you to promise me something." Alethia said

"What is it?" she asked

"Promise, no swear it to me, swear that you´ll stay strong. Don´t stop fighting and don´t give up, ever."

Sansa looked at her, confused. "Alright, I swear it. I swear that I´ll stay strong, by the Old Gods and the New."

"Thank you Sansa. Take care, not everyone is your friend. Goodbye."

"You take care aswell my Lady, I hope to see you again sometime."

And with that, Sansa Stark was off. The little bird was going to become someone stronger or maybe Sansa wouldn´t even have to go through everything that her character had to go through. If only Lady Stark listened to her.

time skip: a few days later

Alethia had been riding for a while now. Most of the time, she kept to herself. Sometimes she talked to Tyrion or Jon. Today she was riding in the middle of their little column when Benjen Stark came up to her. Except for a few `thank yous´or a curt nod, they hadn´t interacted.

"The Wall isn´t the place for a Lady." he said

"I know." Alethia replied. If he was going to keep it short, she might aswell do the same.

"Some of them will try to rape you."

"They can try. I plan on sleeping with a dagger by my side. I´m a woman, not dumb."

"I heard you are quite an unusual Lady. What do you plan on doing at Castle Black?"

"Well, I can´t cook, I´m not good at mending things and I´m not strong enough to be a builder either. That leaves Ranger or Steward. You won´t let me be a Rsnger and you won´t teach me how to fight. Leaves Steward. I can read and write, which is a rare quality here and I´m not bad at learning new things. I was thinking that Maester Aemon could teach me about healing. He´s old and until he chooses someone else to become the Maester of Castle Black I can help him with the Wounded or copy old books from the library." Alethia said. She had thought about her options for a while and this position wouldn´t take away Samwell Tarly´s position. She would mostly be left to her own devices and maybe the men of the Night´s Watch would even respect her.

"Very well, I´ll consider that." Benjen replied "anything else?"

"I would still like to learn how to fight. The Long Night is coming and you need every fighter, regardless of their gender."

"How do you know about the Long Night." Benjen Stark asked, seemingly unsettled

"You´ll come to learn that I know quite a few things."

"Good. Knowledge is valuable." and with that, the First Ranger rode off again.

time skip: that evening

They had just set up camp, when Alethia heard riders approaching.

"Do you know who that is?" she asked Jon

"No idea, probably men of the Watch:" he replied

Shortly after, Yoren and his recruits entered the camp. Alethia knew some of them were rapists and instinctively plopped down between Tyrion and Jon. They both gave her a strange look but didn´t say anything.

Yoren and Benjen greeted each other and Yoren introduced the men he had brought with him.

"These are Chett and Kurz. They are from the Fingers, rapists. And you are?" he asked looking at Jon and Alethia. Alethia was going to speak up when Tyrion said

"This is Jon Snow and this Lady Alethia Stahl."

"A woman. You betrothed to her? Never heard of House Stahl." Yoren replied. Tyrion was about to say something again, but Alethia was quicker.

"I can speak for myself, thank you my Lord. I´m not betrothed to Lord Tyrion, I´m joining the Watch." she said

"Yer a woman. Ye can´t." Yoren replied

"It wasn´t exactly my choice." Alethia replied

"The watch really isn´t what it used to be. Thieves, rapists, poachers and now women." Yoren said. Chett and Kurz greedily looked at Alethia who in turn took out her dagger and started sharpening it.

time skip: arrival at Castle Black

After a few more days of riding, Alethia and Jon finally arrived at Castle Black. When Alethia rode into Castle Black, some men stopped waht they were doing to oogle at her. By now, she was used to getting much more attention from men than in New York, but this was a whole new level. They somehow looked hungry and Al didn´t like that at all.

"Men of the Night´s Watch." Alethia looked up to see Jeor Mormont standing at the balcony thing. "The king has seen fit to send a woman to the Night´s Watch."

A murmur went through the crowd. They seemed happy and at the same time disgusted at her presence.

"Some of you are here on charges of rape. Lady Alethia will not be harmed in any way. Should someone forget themselves and break their vows, I am sure that they will have no problem with bearing the consequences."

"And what would that include?" someone yelled from the crowd.

"Castration. Followed by hanging. As you can see, it is not worth it. Feel free to either make the way to Mole´s Town or relieve yourself. This woman is no excuse for misbehavior." Jeor Mormont turned around and went back inside.

Alethia got off her horse, ignoring the whispers that were without doubt about her.

"What do we do now?" she asked Jon

"I guess we go to the Hall. It´s almost sundown after all."

Together, they went to the hall and sat down at the far end of the benches. After they got their dinner, they sat down to eat. Alethia had barely taken two bites, when Yoren approached her.

"Maester Aemon and the Lord Commander want to talk to you." Al got up "save some for me." she told Jon and made her way to the High Table. She had seen Benjen Stark talk to Jeor Mormont but she hadn´t expected them to decide on the matter so quickly.

"You requested my presence, Maester Aemon?" she asked

"Yes, I have a few questions for you." he said "how did you know I was Maester before you came here?"

"I listen when people talk. Benjen Stark mentioned you. I asked Jon and he said that there is only one Maester at each castle. I assumed you were Maester at Castle Black."

He seemed to look at her with his blind eyes before asking his next question. "Why do you want to learn about healing from me."

"No offense, but you are old. Until you choose your succesor and until he is Maester, you need someone to help you. Besides, it´s one of the only positions open to me and the only where I could possibly be treated with respect."

"How so?" Maester Aemon asked

"You don´t want to be rude to someone you might depend on one day, especially if that is very likely. Don´t want to die from a minor infection because you were rude."

"You are wise beyond your years." Aemon said. "You can read and write?"

"Yes."

"You want to learn how to fight?"

"Correct." Alethia replied, getting irritated at his questions.

"Why?"

"Because first of all, the Lord Commanders warning won´t stop everyone and second of all, the Wall needs fighters. Even if they aren´t men."

"Very well, you will be trained in combat, just like the rest of the recruits. The rest of the day, you will learn everything I know. What do you already know?"

"Basic First Aid." Alethia said. Maester Aemon raised an eyebrow and Alethia explained. "Where I´m from, it´s a common skillset. You learn how to stop people from natural choking, how to revive them and how to treat stab wounds or similar until professional aid arrives."

"Good. We begin tomorrow. Half of the time, I will teach you, the other half you will copy books in the library. Now off you go, enjoy your supper." satisfied, Maester Aemon continued eating.

This was going to be interesting.

Chapter 10: Florian and his Jonquil

Summary:

Training begins... Does Alliser Thorne ship it?

The unpleasantly bright light and the squawking of ravens was what woke Alethia the next morning. She had had a hard time falling asleep, even when she had taken precautions to make her resting place unknown to everyone but Jon, who had assured her that Ghost was keeping watch at the base of the old tower. She sighed and got up.

Like all the other recruits, Alethia had been provided with black clothes to wear. Whoever had picked out her clothing had surely been a perv, there were quite a few low-cut black dresses that weren´t very practical but showed a lot of skin. Somehow she was also grateful for whomever had picked out her clothes. She had quite a wide range and there were a few practical pieces aswell. Maybe having old men simping for you wasn´t always that bad.

Alethia got dressed in one of those tunic things and breeches and the coat from Winterfell, which was also black, conveniently. She was headed towards the dining hall when she heard Tyrion call her name.

"Lady Alethia, wait up!" he called, waddling up to her.

"There´s no need to call me Lady, my Lord." Alethia replied

"I wanted to apologize. It was rude of me to keep you waiting that night in Winterfell. Perhaps if I´d been better company in Winterfell, you wouldn´t be here today."

"No worries. Though Queen Cersei would´ve probably been much nicer to me, I would not say that it was you who brought me here. I´m quite good at doing dumb shit."

Tyrion laughed with her and they entered the dining hall. Like yesterday, a lot of heads turned as soon as Alethia walked in. She wasn´t sure if she´d ever get used to the blatant staring but she tried to ignore it as well as she could. Staring was better than catcalls and catcalls were better than rape, she told herself. She got the slob that slightly resembled porridge and scanned the hall to find Jon, who was sitting alone in a corner.

"I will take my leave now my Lord."

"Of course, I hope we will speak again before I depart."

 

"You´d have an easier time making friends if you actually talked to people and tried to look aproachable." Alethia told Jon as she sat down next to him.

"I don´t need friends." was all Jon said in return.

"Okay emo boy, I get that you had a bad night but I did too and I´m not bitching around am I? You´ll need more useful friends than me."

"Whatever you say."

"What´s wrong Jon?" Alethia asked in earnest

"Tyrion was right. The Night´s Watch is far from what I imagined it to be."

"Are you going to leave? I mean you still could if you wanted to."

"No. I made a vow to myself, I intend to keep it. Besides, who will protect you if Ghost is gone." Alethia smiled at Jon, he was completely a softie, even though he did his best to hide it.

"Then you better eat your portion of slob. I don´t think Ser Allisers training is going to be any better on an empty stomach."

"How do you know that?"

Shit. He had her there. "Well, he looked like he had a stick up his ass yesterday and he never laughs. I heard Commander Mormont talk to him yesterday."

time skip: training

"So. You are the new recruits. How dissapointing. I didn´t think that I´d be training literal girls ever again, I already train enough green boys that come close to it. Get in pairs." Ser Alliser was obviously not thrilled about his job and made that very clear. Nonetheless, pairs wouldn´t be that bad. Alethia made her way over to Jon.

"Not so fast Jonquil. Florian needs to actually train. You go with Grenn." Alliser smirked his vile grin. Great, Alethia thought. The one guy who looked like he could actually fight was paired up against her.

She squared her shoulders and walked up to him. "I normally don´t fight girls, I´ll go easy on you." he said

"I normally don´t fight guys with small dicks, I´ll go easy on you." Alethia replied, annoyed. That hadn´t been a good idea, a terrible idea, Alethia realized.

Grenn and his tiny ego were now charging at her full speed. She dodged out of the way and delivered a blow on his back. Grenn caught himself and swung at her right side. Alethia blocked and attacked his stomach. He parried and swung at her like an executioner. Even though she managed to block him, he was much stronger and pushed his sword down on her with his entire bodyweight.

"You implying that yer pretty boy over there is good at fucking?" he snarled

Alethia sidestepped and regained her fighting stance. "I don´t know about Jon, but the way you´re behaving does imply that you are in fact underequipped." she was already sick of men.

Grenn charged again and Alethia, again, merely stepped away. He swung at her and she parried. She swung and he attacked her with a low blow. Alethia saw her chance and when Grenn left his guard down, she hit him on the wrist as hard as she could. With a yelp of pain, Grenn let his sword fall to the ground. He bent down to snatch it up, but Alethia held hers at his throat. Grenn was red with rage as she smirked at him.

"Yield."

"I yield."

Alethia offered her hand to pull him up and Grenn took it, only to pull her on the ground.

"I´ll never yield to you bitch." he yelled

"What the actual fuck is wrong with you?" Alethia shouted back. She tried to free herself from his grip but he had her pinned her down. She kneed him in the groin as hard as she could. Finally, he let go of her a bit. Alethia used this chance and got up before he could. When he finally did, she punched him in the face.

"That will be enough." Ser Alliser shouted at both of them. "What are you thinking. This will get us nowhere."

"She insulted me Ser."

"Only in retaliation." Alethia responded "You´re just embarrassed that you lost against a girl."

Grenn held his nose, which had begun to bleed during their argument. "You will both be punished acc-" Alliser began, when Maester Aemon interrupted him.

"That won´t be neccesary my good Ser. I believe Alethia has her first patient."

Alethia rolled her eyes and Grenn shot her a dirty look. "Follow me, the both of you please."

 

"So, Alethia, what do you recommend against nosebleeds?" Aemon asked her when she had sat Grenn down in the infirmary.

"What?"

"You said you had some experience with treating minor injuries."

"Oh right. I´ll need you to sit upright and breathe through your mouth please. Pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers, until I hand you a handkerchief." Alethia looke around and spotted a rag that would have to do for now.

"Here. Now GENTLY blow your nose." Alethia enunciated the gently. She had a feeling that Grenn would just hardcore blow his nose to proove his manliness but that wouldn´t help at all. Grenn grumbled but eventually obliged.

"Now tilt your head back and keep on pinching, I´ll find you some ice." Alethia went to the windowsill of the infirmary and scraped of some ice and snow and put it in another rag.

When the bleeding stopped, Alethia turned to Maester Aemon. "The bleeding has stopped, now what?"

"See him off, you´ll stay here with me until lunch."

Alethia turned to Grenn. "Keep your head above your heart okay? Don´t bend down and don´t pick or blow your nose. If you start bleeding again, come here. I´m sorry about that by the way."

"Sorry about cheating." Grenn muttered and then left.

time skip: dinner

Alethia had missed her lunchbreak and by the time it was dinnertime, her stomach was completely empty. She guided Maester Aemon to his seat and then scanned the room for Jon. When she saw him surrounded by the other recruits, she knew that the whole death threat thing had happened in her absence.

Approaching the table, she felt like the new girl at highschool. "Mind if I sit?" she asked.

"Sure." Jon replied and scooted over. He made some space between him and Pypar. Alethia sat down and looked at Grenn, who was now sitting across from her. She nodded her head in acknowledgement and listened to the conversation between the others. Slowly, she began to zone out.

"Al."

"Hey Al." Jon prodded her shoulder.

"Hm?"

"I was just telling them about you falling into the Great Hall. Since you are from a different world, mind sharing any drinking games."

"And here I was thinking you were responsible. Well, we could play truth or drink."

"How does that work?" Pypar asked.

"Someone asks a question and the person who was asked must answer truthfully or drink. The person at whom the question was last directed at is the next to ask a question. How about you start asking."

"Sure."

Alethia listened to her game being played until it was her turn.

"Are you a virgin?" Jon asked her

"Seriously Jon? That´s the question you´re gonna ask me?" she thought about it. Did Morgan count? Probably not, she atleast wasn´t going to admit having lesbian sex, and since it wasn´t in their definition of virgin anyways, she could tell the truth. "I´ve never fucked a man. Props to you for saving me from Theon."

"And what about you Jon, are you a virgin?" Alethia knew the answer of course, but she wanted to get back at him. Jon drank.

"That means he´s a virgin" Pypar loudly proclaimed. Alethia snorted. Right now, life at the Wall didn´t seem that bad.

Notes:

I´m sorry for doing my boy Grenn so dirty. I promise they´ll be friends eventually.

Chapter 11: Chop it off

Summary:

Samwell Tarly arrives at Castle Black, Alethia has a really bad hair day and reconciles with Grenn. Tyrion leaves the Wall.

Notes:

So I´m not quite sure if Tyrion and Sam were at the Wall at the same time but here, Sam arrives the day Tyrion leaves.

Alethia was organizing the medical supplies in the infirmary when she was summoned to the court of the castle. It was customary at Castle Black for the recruits to be there when new potential brothers joined them. She rushed down the stairs, cursing herself for wearing a dress today. When she didn´t have training, Alethia preferred to wear dresses sometimes as you could put layer over layer and be very warm. It was good for minimal walking but not for rushing down the stairs.

Luckily, she made it down without falling and met up with Pyp, Jon and Grenn, who she tried to stear clear of. They just both weren´t very comfortable around and there was no need to put salt in the wound anyways. When the gates opened, she immediately recognised Samwell Tarly.

"Who´s that?" Grenn asked

"His sigil says he´s a Tarly of Hornhill." Pyp said, he did have a very good knowledge about sigils after being with a mummers troupe for so long.

"His name is Samwell Tarly, he is a southerner and an ass guy." Alethia added

"How do you know?" Jon raised an eyebrow at her

"Seriously? It´s my thing. You really ought to know by now." Alethia rolled her eyes while Pyp sniggered. Alliser Thorne, who despised every form of human happiness, whacked him over the head.

Sam got off of his horse and was welcomed with the other recruits. When one of them spotted Alethia, Mormont gave his little speech that had been dubbed the "Ladys speech". After that, Alethia returned to the infirmary. Soon, the new recruits joined the others in their training.

"How are the new recruits faring?" Aemon suddenly inquired

"Just as good as the others."

"So not very good."

"No."

"How is this Samwell faring, he was a lordling after all so he must have some training. What do you know about him and what do you suggest?" you hadn´t expected it, but Maester Aemon always asked for your opinion and your advice. It was his way of teaching and learning at the same time.

"He is well fit to follow you as the maester of Castle Black. Make him your steward."

"I already have a steward."

"He can´t read."

"You can do that."

"I´m a woman, the citadel won´t let me forge a chain. They wouldn´t be swayed by the Good Queen Alysanne, they won´t be swayed by anyone else, even if they have Targaryen blood."

"I suppose you are right. I will speak to Mormont about this Samwell. If my passing comes early, you can teach him what you have already learned until he forges his chain."

"And after that, the Watch won´t have any use to me."

"That is not true. I have listened to the men talking to you while you treat them. They aren´t as shy to be treated by you, they feel like you won´t judge them. And they talk to you about their problems too. They think I don´t listen because I´m blind, which doesn´t make any sense at all, but that way I was able to see the moral support you give. You are much needed here, Alethia. Many of the men have begun to see you as a sister or a daughter and even though the lustier lads without moral still stare, they respect you. And the recruits will come to respect you too."

"You think so?" Alethia hadn´t thought about it that way.

"Yes. You are special Alethia, like the Targaryens but at the same time completely different. I felt it the first time I met you. This strange place you are from, from what you have told me, magic there is dead."

"Magic never existed there." Alethia interjected

"Magic exists everywhere. It doesn´t die, it merely sleeps. It sleeps in you too. You are different. It is a shame you are here and not somewhere else, where you could do good at a much larger scale. Yet I think you will still do great things, dear. The Starks are right, Winter is coming. You know what comes with it and when it does, you will know how to stop it. Not in the way you think now. I think your magic will awaken at the right time."

After their talk, Alethia brushed it off as some old mens belief but she couldn´t stop thinking about what Aemon had said. He knew the Others were coming. He knew she knew how to stop them but he seemed to think that she would find another way, in herself, to stop them. Deep in thought, she haphazardly copied the old tomes in the library and then went across the court to the dining Hall. On the way, she almost ran into Tyrion Lannister.

"My apologies, my Lord."

"No worries, we are all deep in thought from time to time."

"I should´ve watched where I was going nonetheless. You are leaving tomorrow, I heard."

"Yes. I am returning to King´s Landing. Any advice?"

"Be talkative with Bronn, he is fond of gold."

"You are a strange girl."

"So I am told. Any advice from your side?"

"Stay the way you are. LI don´t know you well my Lady, but I respect the aspects I do know." he held out his hand. "May we meet again"

Alethia shook his hand, not without correcting him. "Until we meet again."

They entered the dining hall together but soon went differnet ways. Alethia made her way to the table that was preoccupied with Grenn, Pyp and Jon.

"How´s it going?" she asked

"Good. Sam´s not a fighter though." Jon said

"That´s the nice way to say it. He´s a coward, he admitted it himself." Pyp added

"It takes courage to admit that to yourself and everyone else, you know. Why is he sitting alone?" Alethia asked after seeing him sit in a corner, avoiding every kind of eyecontact.

"No one wants to talk to him." Grenn paused and looked at him

"And?" Alethia asked

"I think we should sit with him. He might be a nice person after all."

Alethia smiled and agreed and soon, they made thier way to his table, after having agreed to stop Ser Allisers cruel treatment against Sam. Alethia had assured that she´d already talked to Aemon about him. She and Grenn sat down next to him, as it had been their idea.

"You must be Samwell Tarly. I´m Alethia, nice to meet you." Alethia held out her hand to Sam, who reluctantly shook it.

"I´m Sam. You´re the one they keep talking about at court."

"That´s news to me. What do they say?"

Sam looked at his suddenly interesting food.

"You can tell me. I don´t care, it doesn´t count here."

"It differs. Some say you are a witch, others say you are a supporter of the Targaryens who wanted to shame Robert. Some say the Gods sent you to humble him."

"I´m pretty sure I´m not godsent. What do you think?"

"I wasn´t there."

"What do you think?" Grenn asked him this time.

"I think you could´ve just went along with it. You wouldn´t be here then."

"I´m right where I´m supposed to be. And I think you will find your place here."

Sam looked at her and Alethia thought it looked hopeful. She knew that both in the books and in the show, he had never really belonged anywhere, not even the Night´s watch. She was determined to change that. The look only lasted a split second then Sam turned away. Their group of now five resumed the conversation and when it fell upon women, Alethia tuned out and got lost in her thoughts. She was listening absentmindedly when Sam said his line in the show and she knew that it was her "time to shine".

"Really? I prefer it when they walk away from me." Sam said, already blushing

Pyp, Grenn and Jon stared at Alethia

"Told you he´s an ass man." she shrugged

A now unsure Sam looked back and forth between the three and Alethia. After an awkward moment of silence she threw up her hands in defeat.

"Fine, I guessed." she lied

"You would make a great gambler." Jon said

"Huh?"

"You always guess correctly."

"It seems like I´m your personal oracle. Ask away."

"What will I be?" Grenn asked

"Builder."

"That´s obvious." Pyp said "what will Ser Alliser drill us in tomorrow?"

"Sword. He wants to test Sam. And I´ll be there too. He loves seeing me lose."

"Will you?" Jon asked

"Against you? Most likely. I personally think I could be able to make a great archer but Thorne doesn´t seem to care."

When Alethia went to bed that night, she felt very content. Here at the Wall, she had a better chance of surviving than in the War of the Five Kings. She would stay here for now, atleast until Jons resurrection.

time skip: the next morning

She fuckinghated her life. Why did everything have to be so complicated. Her hair had stopped greasing so quickly. Instead it was now matted and impossible to brush through. Al gave up after half an hour and went to the hall the way she was. Maybe she could make it better at breakfast.

"Morning guys." she waved at the others who were already seated

"Morning Al."

"How was watchduty?"

"Alright. What happened to your hair?" Jon asked

"I woke up like this. I now have the strong urge to chop it off and throw it at Thorne."

"Why are you wearing pants?" Sam interjected

"Do you expect me to fight in a dress?"

"Not really."

After breakfast, Alethia still had a few minutes to herself in which she busied herself in the infirmary. She heard footsteps on the stairs and was surprised to see Grenn.

"How can I help you?" she asked him

"I was hoping to help you. I can braid your hair if you want." Grenn was blushing, probably because he thought it was "unmanly"

"That would be awesome. Where´d you learn?"

"I had four younger sisters. When my mom was... busy, I helped them to get ready sometimes. I wanted them to be better than my mother, than me."

"That´s very sweet Grenn. I´m sorry for being such a bitch."

"I´m sorry too. Please just don´t mention it to the others."

"Your secret´s save with me."

time skip: training yard

"Pretty sure the last time your hair looked that nice was when Sansa did it at Winterfell." Jon commented when Al came to join them from the infirmary. Grenn had went earlier so they would have a time delay.

"I guess I got lucky." Alethia replied

"How wonderful of you to join us today, Lady Black. Did you feel like fighting today?" Alliser asked. Al didn´t mind the new nickname. The older men who were prone to forgetfullness had begun to call her Lady Black, as she was the only woman who would take the Black. She was however annoyed by Alliser pretending that she normally didn´t join out of laziness.

"Maester Aemon saw it fit for me to join today."

Alliser seemed annoyed by the fact that he couldn´t get her riled up as quickly as all the other recruits. "We begin with swordpractice." was all he said

Al smirked in Pyps direction

Notes:

Alliser Thorne=Snape, change my mind
I think that Grenn is a builder in the books and I like it more that way so yeah...

Chapter 12: King in the North

Summary:

The brothers swear their vows, Ned dies, Robb becomes King in the North, Jon doesn't handle it well and Al grieves for Ned aswell.

Notes:

I finally found the right apostrophies yay

It was finally the day that Alethia would become a sworn sister of the Night's Watch. She wasn't too into the idea of swearing away her life but then again, she reasoned, she would just have to wait until the Long Night was over. After that, the Night's Watch would probably be dissolved anyways. Right now, she was sitting between Pyp and Green, waiting for the announcements of the new recruits jobs to be made.

 

After the first part of the ceremony, the Lord Commander cleared his throat once again to announce the jobs.

 

"To the builders: Halder, Albett and Grenn."

 

Alethia high-fived Grenn and earned a glare from Ser Alliser, but she didn't care.

 

"To the rangers: Todder and Mathar. To the stewards: Sam, Jon, Pyp and Dareon. Finally, our dear Lady Black will become the personal assistant to Maester Aemon and headmistress of the infirmary to offer moral and physical support to the wounded."

 

After Commander Mormont was finished, Al saw Jon storm off angrily but as she saw Sam, Pyp and Grenn follow him, she didn't bother to get up. A few minutes later, when all recruits had sorted themselves to their new groups, Septon Cellador, who was for once not drunk, cleared his throat.

 

"All those who believe in the Seven may follow me into the sept to say their vows. Those who believe in the Old Gods can go with Bowen Marsh to the Weirwood tree."

 

Everyone except Alethia and Sam got up. When asked why, Sam explained his situation and joined Bowen Marsh and Jon.

 

"What about you, Lady Black? Don't believe in the right gods?" Ser Alliser sneered. Al knew he wasn't much of a believer himself.

 

"I was raised on a different god and even though my family wasn't very religous, I was still baptized. I would like to swear my vows to my gods. Do not fret, Ser Alliser, a simple room will suffice."

 

Alethia waited patiently until all the others had returned and then followed Ser Alliser, Maester Aemon and the Lord Commander to his office. She had taken the Religious Education book she had had with her that fateful day with her as a replacement to the bible. She had to swear on something believable after all.

When they reached his rooms, Commander Mormont closed the door behind him.

 

"We have decided that we cannot let you swear your vows. The king is dead, he was the one who commanded it. We do not know the new king and we won't let you swear your vows. You can stay here and play your role and one day, when the world has forgotten who you are, you will leave the Night's Watch and we won't mention it. You can make your life in the Free Cities then. You're pretty enough after all." Ser Alliser looked very satisfied with himself after that.

 

"You will be swearing a vow of secrecy though. Until one of us deems it safe, you may not speak of this to anyone, lie if you must." Commander Mormont added, managing to look at least a little ashamed.

 

Maester Aemon on the other hand smiled. "It is good that you have the possibility to leave my dear." was all he said

 

And so, Alethia swore on her schoolbook to never tell a soul of this decision, until deemed wise. She left the Commanders rooms with mixed feelings. She was angry and relieved at the same time. Why did her gender mean so much here?

 

She met the other recruits in the Hall, where half of the men were already drunk. Only Jon sat glumly in his corner.

 

"Ghost found a hand today."

 

"I'm sure it's not Benjens."

 

"How do you know?"

 

"I'm an amazing gambler. Speaking of which, I bet you aren't going to drink because you're a party pooper."

 

"Watch me."

time skip: a few days later

 

After "swearing her vows" Alethia felt once again supported in her choice. She was going to fight against the Others, just like she was supposed to. That way, she would be able to protect the Starks, even if she wasn't in Winterfell or anywhere else that was relevant. She still dreaded the day that the raven would come, bringing the message of Ned's death and Robb's new kingship, though. Unlucky for her, she didn't know that day was today.

 

She had been sent to the rookery to feed the ravens. It was still her duty until Sam was assigned to Maester Aemon.

 

"Watch where you're going." Jon snarled at Alethia after narrowly missing her on the stairs.

 

"I'm sorry Jon, I wasn't watching my step."

 

"Well maybe you should."

 

Alethia stared at him. It was so unlike Jon to be rude in the first place, but continually bitching around like that was something completely new to Alethia.

 

"Are you okay?"

 

"Yes, now leave me alone." Jon pushed past Alethia, but she held him back.

 

"Don't lie to me. What's wrong?"

 

"It's none of your business." Jon shoved past Alethia, making the bucket with meat fall out of her hands.

 

"What the fuck Jon! Get a grip on yourself."

 

"It's not my fault all this shit is happening okay? I didn't ask for them to die. You should leave me alone, Al. If you already know-"

 

"Who's dead?"

 

"I thought you knew."

 

"Knew what?"

 

"Didn't Maester Aemon tell you?"

 

"Tell me what, Jon? Fucking get to the point."

 

"Father is dead. They beheaded him as a traitor."

 

Alethia sunk down on the stairs. She hadn't known Lord Stark very well, but he had protected her. He had saved her life, twice, and Alethia had failed to protect even one of his children.

 

"How are they taking it?"

 

"Sansa and Arya are still in King's Landing. Robb and Lady Catelyn are riding south, he's King of the North now. Bran and Rickon are still at Winterfell."

 

"Arya will get out."

 

"What?"

 

"You know her. She won't fucking stay in King's Landing with Cersei. I bet she's already planning her way over here. I'm sorry Jon. Can you get out a message to Robb?"

 

"Yes. Do you want me to write something to him?"

 

"Yes. Tell him to listen to his mother, she knows better. Tell him to honor his word and that he must keep his promise at all costs. Tell him to not trust Theon."

 

"I'll write that. Here." Jon picked up the bucket with meat and handed it back to Alethia.

 

"Thank you. I'll see you at dinner I guess. Annoy Ser Alliser from me."

 

"I'll do my best."

 

time skip: that night

Alethia wanted nothing more than to cry herself to sleep that night. She knew what was going to happen to the Starks now, the pain they were going to go through. Even though she couldn't help them anymore, she could still help Jon, which was why she quietly got up and snuck to the stables. She wouldn't let him down too.

 

"Where are you going?" Alethia whipped around and gave out a sigh of relief when she saw Sam standing at the doors of the stables.

 

"I'm getting Jon back here. You'll only weigh the horse down, go wake Pyp and Grenn. We need to get Jon back. Tell them I'm on my way."

 

"Alright. Did Jon tell you he was going to leave?"

 

"No. But his family is important to him. He does stupid shit sometimes."

 

"Take care."

 

"I will."

 

The tracks Jon had left were obvious. There were hooveprints next to the giant pawprints of Ghost and soon, said Direwolf came running out of the foliage, right at Alethia.

 

"Thank god you're here Ghost. Can you get me to Jon? We need to save him from himself."

 

Ghost, silent as ever, ran off into the woods and Al quickly followed. Soon, she saw Jon in front of her, still pressing his horse on. Alethia knew that he wouldn't make it go too quickly, as he probably underestimated her and Sam so as long as she didn't make a sound, she would be able to ride up pretty close.

 

The plan worked quite nicely too, until her horse whickered softly.

 

Jon whipped around on his own horse and saw Alethia a few lengths away. He urged his horse into a full sprint, but Alethia had a clear advantage on her side: her horse was bred for speed, not for distance. Soon, she was in front of Jon. By the time she had stopped him, she could hear Grenn, Pyp and a few others in the distance.

 

"Let me leave."

 

"Over my dead body:"

 

"Yes, that'll be very likely if you don't get out of my way."

 

"Stop it Jon. You'll only regret this tomorrow."

 

"I'm going to help Robb."

 

"Benjen was right. You aren't ready for the Watch. You're too young, too naive."

 

"And you know better?"

 

"Atleast I don't run away in the middle of the night like some coward."

 

"I'm not a coward. And besides, I don't have a choice."

 

"You made your choice when you swore a vow to the Night's Watch. What will they say about you? `Jon Snow, the bastard that let his blood get the better of him.´"

 

"Bastards aren't traitors."

 

"I know that. It's still what they'll say though."

 

By now, the others had arrived too.

 

"Come back Jon. We'll make it look like you spent a night at Mole's Town, to celebrate."

 

"And how would that explain Al?" Alethia smiled at that. It was so like Jon to be a complete idiot one second and then to protect the ones he cared about in the next. She knew he'd come back with them.

 

"Everyone wants to drink some good ale once in a while." Alethia said

 

"Fine."

Notes:

School has started again for me so I won't be updating as often but I'll try to update once a week. Until then, feel free to check out my other works.

Chapter 13: Longclaw

Summary:

Jon gets Lonngclaw and has his first encounter with the Others

Notes:

Yes I'm writing this in my free lesson, what are my teachers going to do about it?

Of course, Jon's little excourse hadn't gone unnoticed, but Maester Aemon and the Lord Commander didn't say anything. Instead, Ser Alliser tried to make a fool out of Jon but by then, he was over his teasing. Alethia was already in the dining hall with Pyp, Grenn and Sam when Jon came down. Alethia was telling them about the two dead rangers that had been found behind the Wall. Maester Aemon had made her inspect them after all.

 

"There you are Jon. How do ya like your new sword?" Grenn and Al asked simultaneously. The weeks after swearing their vows, Grenn and Alethia had taken their reconciliation a step further and were now beginning to build an actual friendship. Like many other things, Alethia had learned, friendship was a rare commodity at Castle Black, even more so if you were a woman.

 

By now, that was what Alethia considered herself. By westerosi standards, she was a maiden flowered after all and after she had turned fifteen she had decided she was by her own standards aswell. She worked hard every day, doing labour she would've considered disgusting iin New York, which now seemed like a lifetime ago. Al took a certain pride in her work and her weapon skills were, by now, considerably better.

 

"It's perfect." Jon marvelled and pulled it out of its scabbard.

 

Around them, everyone gasped. "Valyrian Steel?! Holy shit Jon, did old Mormont give you his house heirloom?" Alethia exclaimed, completely forgetting that that was actually the whole story behind it.

 

"Yessir. He said I deserved it more than his son and he can't risk sending it to his sister in the Riverlands."

 

Everyone, including Alethia was fangirling- or well fanboying over the sword and even Sam seemed interested in it.

 

Time skip: that night

Alethia was scared out of her mind as she lay awake in bed, thinking about the Undead that were about to go to the Lord Commanders chambers. She was tempted to just let Jon grill his hand but since he seemed dumber than in the show (maybe they were spending too much time together) she got up with a sigh and took her torch with her. She would make an amazing pyromancer was what she kept telling herself. A bit nervous, she sat down on the side of her bed and waited. She took the crashing of furniture as her queue and sprinted up the stairs.

 

When she got inside the room, the blast of cold was what surprised her. She looked down at herself and not only realized in horror that she had forgotten to put on some proper clothes but also that the Wights were radiating the cold. Jon was trying to hold them uo with one of the swords he had taken off of the wall, his lantern completely forgotten. When he saw Al, he stared at her dumbly, which was enough for the Wight to regain it's grip on him.

 

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE AL???? GET OUT!" he screamed at her

 

"TAKE THE FUCKING LANTERN OR THE TORCH AND SET THOSE DEAD FUCKERS ON FIRE YOU DUMB FUCK!!" Al screamed back, equally exasperated as a hand was trailing in her direction. She set it on fire like a marshmallow and it stopped moving. Finally waking up from his, well whatever it had been, Jon threw the lantern at the wight. Together, they managed to finish off the last wight

 

Al plopped down on the floor as the mayhem aroundher started burning and smoothed out her shift. Jon tried to dutifully put out the flames when the Lord Commander burst into the room, also in his night clothes.

 

"WOULD YOU LIKE TO EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT IS GOING ON?" Mormont hollered at them

 

"Why is everyone always screaming?" Al said to no one in particular while Mormont looked back and forth from her to Jon.

 

"Where you two fucking in my office?" he asked, a little quieter

 

"What? No, we were killing the Undead, that's why it's burning. I'm not into fireplay. How did you even come to that conclusion?" Al was exasperated and her wrist was burned. She'd have to put something onto that soon. Jon had gotten away unscathed of course.

 

"Isn't that kinda obvious?" Jon replied

 

Alethia then remembered that she was not only in her shift but also that her hair was in state of disarray that was well… incriminating to say the least. Jon on the other hand had a few more clothes on, but most of his laces were undone. It did really look like they were fucking in his office.

 

"Well we weren't." Alethia said, pointing to the now unmoving pieces of the corpses.

 

"What about them?" Mormont asked

 

"They were moving, my Lord. As hard as it seems to believe, but they were and I was trying to kill them when Alethia came in to help. She was probably trying to help."

 

"Lord knows I'm the only light sleeper in the castle." Al put in, knowing it was partly true.

 

"Very well then. I must say it is hard to believe this lie. We will decide on you punishment tomorrow-" Mormont began when suddenly, Bowen Marsh burst in.

 

"My Lord the corpses in the dungeons, they're-" he began but stopped when he saw Jon and Al

 

"Alive." Alethia finished darkly "The Others are back. Wake Maester Aemon, he knows more than we do."

 

For some reason, Bowen Marsh lightly bowed his head and hurried away to find Maester Aemon.

 

"You were telling the truth." Mormont said, horrified

 

"Why is everyone always so surprised when I do?" Al retorted, before taking Jon by the arm to check him for unseen injuries. Then, she marched off. She had had enough of men for the day.

Chapter 14: Part II: Lady Black

Notes:

btw, i obvi don't put all the characters in the cast, only a few that i want to stick out for that part ;)

Part II: Beyond the Wall

Chapters: 15-29

Summary: Alethia has been in Westeros for half a year now, experiencing her life like a fucking feverdream. When the Dead start walking, the Night's Watch realizes that there might be more use to her than just a simple healer. The Lord Commander knows that she harbors more secrets than friends, but maybe that's just what the Watch needs now.

Cast (new characters)

Mark Stanley as Grenn

Age: 17

"I had four younger sisters. When my mom was... busy, I helped them to get ready sometimes. I wanted them to be better than my mother, than me."

 

Simon Armstrong as Qhorin Halfhand

Age: ???

"You're sayin' there's someone like you?"

 

Kristofer Hivju as Tormund Giantsbane

Age: ???

"So who are you then? You're not a kneeler, that's clear as ice."

Chapter 15: First Ranging

Summary:

Alethia tries her best to stop her web of lies from breaking apart.

Jon and Alethia are silent as they watch the remains of their dead brothers burning at the stake.

"How did you know?" he asks her

"How did I know what?" she replies

"How to stop them."

"I'm a good gambler."

"Stop lying to me."

"Why do you think are all the wildlings coming south? They're running Jon."

"You aren't answering my question."

"I read it in the library while copying books." Alethia lies. Smoothly, she thinks, but Jon notices.

"When will we finally be honest with each other, Al?"

Alethia looks at the flames that are dancing in front of her. "Never." she says, quietly. Jon stomps off and Alethia remains alone on the courtyard. She stays long after most men are gone and the fire is out.

"I want their remains buried somewhere far away from Castle Black." Commander Mormont tells her.

"They won't rise again. Ice will never prevail against fire." Alethia says

"Still. I think I speak for most men here when I tell you I am uncomfortable with these things here."

"They aren't things. They were brothers of the Night's Watch. Do you really think it was their choice? Darker things are happening beyond the Wall, my Lord. I fear Winter is coming. And this time, it will be a long, hard winter with an even longer night."

"You shouldn't always make prophecies with such dark omens, people will begin to think you a witch." the Lord Commander isn't looking at Alethia but she knows he also means himself.

"Where I'm from, magic doesn't exist. It scares me as much as it scares you, my Lord. I could never bring unluck onto a noble cause like this. What I have read about the Others, what history tells me is terrifying, truly. But it is the Night's Watch most important duty, to protect the world of men from the Others. I intend to keep my promise, even though I never really gave it."

They stand in the courtyard in silence. Even the Lord Commander's raven has nothing to say. No one else is in the courtyard, most of the men are in the dining hall, drinking away their worries and woes.

Finally, Alethia looks up. "I'll give them a proper burial. North of the Wall."

"What do you need?" Mormont asks gruffly

"A builder, to dig a hole for their ashes."

"I'll give you two, and a ranger to protect you all."

"Ghost will want to come too."

"He isn't mine to command."

"I never said so."

 

Grenn had agreed to come with Alethia and was digging a hole that was deep enough for the ashes. Alethia had asked for an urn but since that tradition was apparently reserved to Targaryens, the wooden box would have to do.

She put the box in the hole and Grenn closed it with earth. Alethia wasn't very religious but she had been baptized and besides, it felt wrong not to say anything.

Alethia steps back from their burial site and clears her throat. "Here lie four men of the Night's Watch."

She sees the looks on the faces of the others. They are surprised, and very uncomfortable, wanting to get back to Castle Black as soon as possible, but Alethia ignores them.

"They fought with honor. They never broke their vows. Against their wills, they were made into mindless monsters. May this rest never be disturbed." she continues and then pauses

"Rest in peace." she finishes and turns around to leave. Ghost comes to her side. Together, they make their way back to Castle Black.

 

Nightshade, Milk of the Poppy, the Strangler. Alethia groans. She has been counting and labelling poisons and drugs for at least an hour now, and it is getting tiring. Maester Aemon wasn't in the infirmary but in the dining hall. Relieve floods through her as a knock on the door prevents a death of boredom.

"Come in."

Al is surprised when Sam comes in. Even though they are friends and work together quite closely in the library, Sam hates the infirmary. It smells of death and sickness, he says.

"Hello Sam. What do you need?"

"Maester Aemon and the other higher-ups want to speak to you."

"Higher-ups?"

"Oh. Did I use it in wrong context? I thought-"

"Oh no, I was just surprised you used it at all."

"Well, they are waiting for you in the Lord Commanders office."

"Thank you Sam."

"No problem."

 

Alethia enters the room and immediately wants to leave. There, right next to Mormont, sits Ser Alliser. Al sweeps the room and to her surprise, sees Qhorin Halfhand. She didn't expect him to be here.

"Sit." the Commander points to the chair in front of the table.

Alethia obliges and sits on the chair. When none of the men say anything, she begins to smooth out her skirts, glad to have some occupation.

"So you're our Lady Black." Qhorin Halfhand interrupts the silence.

"Aye, so it seems." Al replies

"The men at Seawatch are quite jealous that they aren't at this moldy castle. I see why."

"But we aren't here to compliment me are we?"

Qhorin doesn't answer Alethia's question. "Are you any good with a sword?"

"Not in Ser Alliser's eyes."

"She's decent enough." Alliser interrupts, to Alethia's surprise.

"What about with a bow and any other weapons?" Qhorin asks

"Hate to admit it, but she's the best recruit we've had in a while when it comes to bow and arrow-"

"Throwing knives are my specialty." Alethia interrupts. She feels incredibly annoyed by the fact that Ser Alliser won't let her answer any questions on her own.

"We are going on an expedition to find out what has the wildlings going south in such numbers." Mormont announces

"I take it I'm not coming with you."

"No. But you have the instincts of a rangers. You fight well, for a girl."

"I fight well for any gender." Al snaps

"You are going with Qhorin Halfhand, to find Benjen if he is still alive, and to stop the dead. You know something we don't. I want you to do what is neccesary, even if you won't tell us. Is that understood?" Alethia's mouth falls open in shock. She did not expect this, at all.

"Yes."

"Pack your things and say your goodbyes. Bring your healing supplies, you are coming mainly because of your healing skills. Tell everyone you are collecting some rare herb or whatever lie you want to tell them, but not the truth."

 

Alethia sits on her cot, still processing all the information when Maester Aemon walks in.

"You are leaving, Flower."

"Yes."

"I'm going to miss you, you know." he smiles his toothless grin. "You were like a daughter to me."

"Maybe granddaughter is more fitting."

"Indeed." he fumbles in a pocket of his robe and takes out a dagger.

"I want you to have this." he says

"It's- I can't accept."

"You have to. You will need it. Dragonbone and Dragonglass. My father gave it to me, in honor of my family's sigil. But I gave up that name when I swore my vows. You need it more than an old man ageing away in a moldy castle."

"How do you know?"

"About Dragonglass? Dragons are curious things, Flower and I hope I will get to know one before I die. I would like to meet her."

"Daenerys?"

"Yes. Perhaps if you succeed, I could meet her. A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing."

"Goodbye Maester."

"Goodbye Flower. Until we next meet."

 

"I'm leaving tomorrow, I have to get some herbs from north the Wall." Al announces at dinner.

"Frost Flower?" Sam asks

"Yep. That, and a few other things."

"We'll miss you." Grenn says

"Then it's only right we sing you a farewell song." Pyp adds and everyone around him groans in protest. Nonetheless, he begins to sing

That night is one of the best Alethia has ever had at Castle Black. They all get collectively drunk and at the end of the night, Alethia stumbles up to her room, giggling to herself.

She sits down on her cot and takes off her boots when Sam comes in. He, as the only person at the table, hadn't gotten drunk. He was apparently scared of throwing up

"Where are you going?" he asks

"Oi, get out, I'm tryna sleep. And I already told ya."

"Frost Flower doesn't even exist. Where. Are. You. Going?" Sam asks

"Told ya, getting herbs."

"If you don't tell me the truth-"

That clears Alethia's head a little. She had learned to hate threaths, especially at Castle Black.

"Then what? Huh? You'll go run to Maester Aemon and tell on me? You certainly won't kill me, you're too scared to do that." she snaps

"I'm sorry." Sam replies

"Don't be. I don't want to leave you behind on bad feelings."

She reconciles with Sam and assures him that it really only was a mistake. Even though Alethia is sure he doesn't believe her, she goes to sleep, content with the knowledge he isn't one to gossip.

 

The next day, Al wakes before the sun rises and walks down the stairs of the tower to meet Qhorin and the others.

She is about to haul her pack on the back of her horse when a raven flies down from the rookery. Did Sam leave a cage unlocked? It is the gray raven, the one that is never used to send messages because of it's color. Today though, it has a message attached to one foot. Alethia unrolls the scroll and sees a familiar handwriting.

'I don't know where you are going but I want you to have this one. It's a special raven, just like you are my special sister. I hope it will keep you safe.'

She looks up to the window of the rookery and see Sam's pale face. Al raises a hand and waves him goodbye. Sam doesn't wave back though, he only looks at her, worry written all over his face.

The feeling of dread settles in Alethia as she leaves the Castle that has become her home.

Chapter 16: I do things for spite and the aesthetic, that's it

Summary:

Alethia makes a discovery and experiences things that mark a turning point in her life.

Notes:

TW: suicide, gore, swearing
Should I make Alethia a warg?

The next few days were far less uneventful than Alethia had anticipated. The gray raven, which she had named 'Morgan', proved far better company than most of the rangers, who kept to themselves.

Only Qhorin seemed willing to talk to her. Every night, they sparred and practiced with all the other weapons Alethia had learned to use. It was a way to kill time, mostly.

After a few weeks, their troupe finally made a discovery that could be called worth mentioning: a camp on the edge of a mountain. The camp was useful to everyone but Alethia.

"Judgin' from the trails, tis was abandoned a few nights past it was." Tom said. Alethia didn't really know Tom, but he seemed nice enough.

"Search the camp, check if you find anything noteworthy." Qhorin commanded.

They all spread out and began to search for hints, weapons or signs of an attack. Alethia didn't want to be useless, so she joined the search. Abruptly, all of the men around her left her alone and she had atleast a quarter of the camp to herself.

Of course, she found nothing interesting. The blankets were moth-eaten, the bones were from game and the dagger that had been left behind was rusty. She still picked it up though, it was a weapon after all.

Alethia was about to return to the others when she saw something that made her heart stop.

In one of the tall pine trees, the one that the dagger had been lying in front of, was an inscription.

"Nolite te bastardes carborundorum."

Alethia read it again, and again and again, but the inscription didn't change. It wasn't Westerosi, or Valyrian or Braavosi anything else. This was latin. Alethia knew it despite never haven taken the language in school or otherwise. And yet she knew what it meant.

"Don't let the bastards grind you down."

The Handmaid's Tale. She had read it a few weeks before coming to Westeros. Alethia's head was spinning. This meant that there was someone beyond the Wall who was from her world, or a world that was similar to hers. Perhaps it was even Offred herself, or the woman who had been the Offred to make the inscription in the room.

Her train of thoughts was interrupted by Qhorin's command. "We make camp here tonight, then we try to track them tomorrow."

 

Alethia ate her supper quietly, still thinking about the inscription. She had decided to keep the dagger, in case she needed it as proof and as of yet, she kept the inscription to herself aswell. It was at the far end of the camp and no one except her had seen it.

That night, when she was sparring with Qhorin, her thoughts were still on the inscription. Qhorin noticed.

"Yer not concentrating. Get yerself together."

Alethia nodded and he attacked again. And landed a hit, again.

"Lass, what's on your mind. You in love or sum? Is it that pretty boy?" he prodded again

"No, but we shouldn't discuss it here."

Alethia simply walked to the inscription, hoping Qhorin would follow her.

 

"This is what's on my mind." she pointed to the inscription at the base of the tree.

"Ya know I can't read, right?" Qhorin replied, annoyed

"Nolite te bastardes carborundorum." Alethia read aloud

"So this is what's got you so distracted? Some wildlin' speak?"

"That's the point- it's not any wildling language- it's Latin."

"And?"

"It's where I'm from." Alethia replied. She knew that basically no one in this ranging believed her story of origin, she even thought some of them were oblivious to it, but Qhorin definetly knew. If he believed it was a whole other matter.

"You're sayin' there's someone like you?"

"Not only that, someone who knows the story I read, behind the Wall." Alethia finished

"We'll keep an eye out." Qhorin promised. For him, this matter was settled

 

That night, Al slept uneasily. She dreamt of her home, her parents and Morgan but that didn't last long. Soon her dreams turned dark. She was back in the Lord Commander's rooms, fighting the Others with Jon. She had just set them on fire and thought herself saved, then, Jon turned to face her. His eyes were blue. She tried to run but instead, Alethia fell.

Then, she was standing in the camp. Around her were pieces of bodies. She panicked and began to run again, but she kept stumbling over a foot or an arm. She didn't even know from what she was running. Once Al realised that, she looked over her shoulder.

And that was when she saw them.

They were dead quiet and calmly walked towards her. She saw the Night King, more terrible than any of them. A tranquility flowed through Alethia as she faced him, all her fears forgotten in curiosity.

He reached out with his hand, to touch her face. The Night King was only mere millimeters away from her face when, out of seemingly nowhere, Morgan swooped down and threw her small body against his hand.

A light filled everything.

 

A searing pain ran through Alethia's face as Qhorin slapped her.

"Get yourself together, lass, it was only a nightmare." he said, the worry was apparent in his eyes though.

"Tha' was no nightmare." Tom muttered "She wouldn't wake up, it was sum' darker, tha' it was."

"Where's Morgan?" Al asked, panicking

"Tha' bird flew away." Tom replied "Went in tha' direction of the Fist of the First Men it did."

"We need to leave, NOW." Alethia said

"What? What are ye talkin about, whatever you dreamed was just that, a nightmare." Qhorin argued

"Morgan never flies away from camp, not even to hunt. Why would she leave now?"

"Tha' girls got a point." Tom said "I'm wakin' the others, we're leaving."

"They're already awake, her tantrum woke them." Qhorin pointed at Alethia accusingly. "And b'sides, I'm still in charge." he added

"Shut up." Alethia said, already beginning to pack her things

"Excuse you." Qhorin looke dlike he was about to slap her again

"No, listen."

"There ain't no sound." Tom said, relieved

"Exactly. I read about that in the library." Alethia lied "Before the Others come, it becomes dead quiet. Why would all the sounds of the forest suddenly quiet down for no reason?"

"It's nothing. We stay here." Qhorin said

"Better safe than sorry." Alethia argued

"Fine. Don't ever insult me again, or I will make you regret it."

"Agreed."

"Gather your things, we're leaving." Qhorin called

They had barely begun to gather up their things, when one of the men fell over dead. His head had been pierced by a spear.

"RUN!" Tom shouted, ignoring Qhorin. He barely made it five steps. Some of the men put up a fight. Alethia on the other hand, had no problem with running away.

Well, she tried.

"They're closing in on us!" she shouted

"Very helpful!" Someone screamed back, before dying. (iconic tbh)

"Use the fire!" Qhorin commanded, but for most of them, it was hopeless.

Nolite te bastardes carborundorum. Alethia repeated it over and over in her mind, it was stupid, she knew that, but it made her feel strong.

She had survived coming to Westeros, she had made a life in Winterfell, slapped the King and had come to the Wall, where she had earned respect and a life. This was her first ranging. She'd be dammed if some rip-off zombies killed her.

And then, there was one of them in front of her. She ripped the dagger Maester Aemon had given her from her belt and got into a fighting stance.

"I FUCKING HATE MY LIFE!" she screamed before bodyslamming the Other like she had bodyslammed the cop a few months prior during the BLM-protests.

Only when it was choking her on the ground, she realised how stupid that had been.

"I imagined this situation very differently." she choked out, before miraculously managing to kill it.

"How did you do that?" Qhorin shouted from somewhere

"I don't know! Spite?!" Alethia guessed. She was proud of herself, but other than that, the situation was not looking good.

They had driven them to the edge of the mountain. Apart from Alethia, only Qhorin and two other men from their group of nine were left.

And then, the Night King walked past the rest, raising his arms.

"Fuck this." Alethia muttered, before throwing her pack off of the mountain peak. Qhorin only looked at her, obviously confused, before she followed suit.

The fall was shorter than Alethia had expected, but the impact still took her breath away.

Soon after, Qhorin and the two other men jumped aswell.

 

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" he screamed at her

"IT OBVIOUSLY WORKED SO I DON'T REALLY SEE THE ISSUE HERE." Al shouted back

"YOU ARE THE STUPIDEST AND YET SMARTEST PERSON I KNOW." he continued

"YES, THAT IS BASICALLY THE ESSENCE OF MY BEING."

"I kinda hate you." he sighed

"I kinda hate me too." Alethia replied

They were interrupted by groans of pain. Luckily, they weren't their own.

One of the men, his name was- Alethia had forgotten his name- had died in the fall, but the other was still alive, though very much not healthy.

He had broken his leg, and the bone was poking through.

"Oh shit."

"Can ya do sum' about it, Lady Black?" he was one of the older rangers, Alethia remembered. His name was Arryk, but everyone called him Ryk to distinguish him from another Arryk, who had been even older.

"I'll try my best. I know how to fix it in theory, but I don't have all the materials." Alethia replied searching for her pack in the snow.

She found it, and gathered up the Milk of the Poppy.

"Get some sticks." she told Qhorin "Make sure they're straight." 'Unlike me.' she added in her thoughts

For once, Qhorin did not argue.

Alethia fixed up Ryk's leg as best as she could and Qhorin fashioned him a crutch.

 

They kept walking through the night, not daring to look back. Alethia was still shaking from before. After they realised, they couldn't make a fire, much less gather enough material for a pyre, Qhorin and Alethia had chopped the other ranger up as best as they could, trying to ensure that he wouldn't be able to do any harm.

It was too much. After walking for another day, night fell again and Alethia threw up as soon as Qhorin announced they were setting camp. She was near tears, but held them back. She would not cry.

Nolite te bastardes carborundorum. It had become a prayer of sorts now. All this time, she had found things like this hard to understand in books or movies, but now, she knew. How could she not?

They all went to sleep, too exhausted to set up a watch.

 

The next morning, Alethia awoke to the sound of wings flapping in the wind. She opened her eyes, glad to at least have Morgan bacl.

"Hello Morgan."

"Alethia." the raven squawked in return "Alethia" she repeated

Alethia smiled and got up. She went over to Ryk and saw him sitting against a rock.

"Mornin'" he said, smiling a toothless grin

"Morning Ryk. How did you sleep?"

"Like a king. Thanks to you."

"That's great."

"Is Qhorin awake yet?" he asked

"No?" Alethia replied cautiously

"Well then, Lady Black, I must ask a favor of you."

"Oh? Go on then."

"Will you kiss me on the cheek? My daughter used to kiss me on the cheek. Just a peck. She died when she was five. That was a terrible winter."

Alethia was surprised when she saw the tears in his eyes. She hadn't known about his daughter. She hadn't known anything about him really. She felt sorry for him and so, she leaned down to kiss him on the cheek.

"Thank you, lass. I can rest now." old Ryk said

Alethia frowned at that and was about to ask him what he meant, when Ryk pulled out his own dagger. Then she realised. She jumped at him, trying to wrestle the dagger out of his hand, but Ryk was stronger than her and had nothing to lose.

He pushed her off, gently but still firm and smiled one last time.

"Make it count." he whispered, before cutting his own throat.

Notes:

Offred: Protagonist in the Handmaids Tale
I recommend the Handmaid's Tale to everyone reading this, it's an amazing book.

Chapter 17: Wildlings

Summary:

Al and Qhorin get into a bit of trouble

Notes:

TW: blood, violence, mentions of sexual assault/violence

Alethia stared at the man in the snow in terror. The snow around Ryk was beginning to turn red already, steaming upon impact with his blood.

"Where's Ryk, girl?" Qhorin asked

Alethia pointed at him, her mind numb from the shock of his suicide. She continued to stare, she couldn't help it, she wanted to will the corpse back alive again, but Ryk wouldn't move.

She was shaken out of her trance by Qhorin, who was shaking her by her shoulders.

"I asked you a question lass."

"What do you want?" Al whispered

"What happened?"

"He-. I don't know he-" Alethia was stumbling over her own words.

Finally, she managed a whole sentences. "He sacrificed himself for us." She looked at Qhorin.

There was understanding in his eyes, as if he knew what Alethia was going through at this moment.

"I'm sorry ye had to see that Lady Black." he awkwardly patted her on the back. Was this his attempt at comforting her?, Alethia wondered. Out of impulse, she hugged the old ranger and was surprised when he hugged her back.

Together, they built his funeral pyre. Qhorin held a speech and Alethia set the pyre aflame. Morgan was watching from the packs, seemingly paying her respects as well.

"We should leave." Qhorin said. Alethia nodded in agreement.

 

The next days were all the same: Qhorin and Alethia held watch as best as they could, packed their things and walked in silence. They only spoke when it was absolutely neccessary. Alethia could see the grief Qhorin was feeling for his fallen comrade, but she herself felt like she was getting ripped apart by guilt.

At night, Alethia would sit and think of Ryk and all the other rangers that had fallen. She had never even made an effort to talk to them or learn their names, she hadn't given a singular fuck about their stories and treated them all like dirt.

Did coming from another world really make her better than the rest of them? The answer was no, and Alethia knew it had always been that way. Only she had behaved like a second Cersei.

She'd critized Jon in the show for thinking he was better than the rest of the men of the Watch, but now she had done the exact same thing.

Why did it have to be Ryk? She had asked Qhorin why the man had come to the Watch. Qhorin had explained to her that he had been caught stealing from a Lord. It was supposed to be food for his dying wife, his daughter had already been dead for months then.

The guilt was gnawing at Alethia. If it weren't for Ryk's last request, she was sure that she'd jumped off of some glacier or another a few nights ago.

Tonight she was on watch again. Her thoughts were louder than the landscape around her and Morgan wasn't perched on her shoulder as usual.

Since the attack of the Wights, Morgan had changed. She left camp more often but always made a point to return to Alethia at some time or another. And Alethia felt her connection with Morgan growing as well.

It wasn't that of a warg, but she could sense if Morgan was near and the raven often appeared in her dreams. Al wasn't sure what those dreams meant, but they deeply unsettled her. The first had warned her about the Wights, after all.

She kept those dreams and her worries to herself, just as Qhorin did with his own. It was better that way, Alethia told herself.

 

Alethia was ripped from her thoughts by a noise in the nearby bushes. When she didn't see anything, she decided it was probably a rabbit.

Her stomach growled at the thought. Had someone told her in New York that she would one day want to skin, cook and eat a rabbit in the most godforsaken place in Westeros, she would've declared them crazy.

Not wanting to scare away the potential game, she snuck over to wake Qhorin and informed him about her hopes.

"Could be a wildlin' aswell." he muttered

"What do we do?"

"I wouldn't risk it." he said "We leave this place immediately."

"But-" Alethia protested

"I've had enough of the cryin'. I'm hungry too but we ain't riskin' it."

Qhorin got his pack and Alethia followed suit. Soon, they were on their way. They had added a bit of fodder to the tiny fire they kept going at night, hoping it would draw attention away from them.

They barely made it a hundred meters.

"Wha' do we have here. The Halfhand and his whore. Didn't know the crows have whores now." Rattleshirt announced after having his group of wildlings surround them.

"And what do we have there? A guy who's to ugly to show his face in public." Alethia snapped back. Having to surrender to a group of wildlings had wounded her pride, but it brought back some of her own self. Which wasn't good in this case.

Her hand shot up and caught Rattleshirt's who had tried to slap her. "I'm not a whore."

He ignored her. "Tie them up. We wouldn't want to separate the crow from his lover."

They were all laughing at her expense, and Alethia hated every second of it. She was practically fuming, so much so that she almost didn't see her.

There, in the middle of all the other wildlings, stood Ygritte.
.
Alethia stared at her and for some reason felt jealous. She didn't know why and did her best to ignore the feeling.

Soon, they were on the move again. Alethia did her best to listen to what the wildlings were talking about. Most of the time, it was shittalking about her.

"You think she'll let me fuck her?"

"Look at the crow. Tha's one ugly fucker. She'll beg for it soon enough."

And then she heard something interesting.

"Ygritte, Eren, you two leave. I heard some other crows were runnin' around nearby. Find them."

Alethia immediately remembered who those crows where. Well, one of them. None of the men had been of any importance in the show, except for Jon of course.

And in her heart, Alethia felt hope.

 

That feeling quickly vanished when she woke up the next morning. She felt incredibly cold, and when she looked over her shoulder, she knew why. Qhorin was gone.

Al guessed that he had been killed, but the wildlings quickly told her otherwise.

"Did yer lover abandone you, whore? Rattleshirt asked her

"Which lover?" Al asked back

"The one that-" another wilding began

"I know who you mean, idiot. Point is, he isn't my lover so I won't call him that."

"Wha's a dornish whore doin' North of the Wall." another wildling asked. By his trivial knowledge of Westeros, Al guessed he was a deserter

"I don't answer to traitors." she replied and spat at him. Since when did the Night's Watch mean so much to her? Maybe since she was really fucking scared of the people who had captured her.

Rattleshirt punched her straight in the face, and this time Alethia couldn't do anything. Her hands were bound afterall.

"Well, whore, you might know something. Shut up and we'll leave you alone."

Al took that offer up very quickly. She was just praying that Jon and Qhorin would be at the right time and place for the plot.

Chapter 18: You're not a kneeler

Summary:

Al reveals her origins to a few more people

Notes:

I'm so happy everyone is enjoying the story, it really makes my day to see your comments!

A few days later, Jon and Qhorin were escorted back to the wildling camp. Alethia sighed in relieve and resignation. She had hoped that this would go another way of course, maybe where she was in less rapey surroundings, but at this point, who was she to make demands.

"Long time no see, asshole." Al says as she makes eyecontact with Jon, who ignores her

"Long time no see traitor." he replies

Alethia is fuming but she knows better than to not keep her mouth shut. That is, until Jon is dumped next to her. She takes her chance and elbows him in the side, hard.

"Ow. Fuck, what was that for?" he whispers

"For calling me a traitor. I didn't betray the Watch. I've been through shit you can't even imagine and now you want to tell me that I'm a bloody traitor?" Al whispers back

"That's what you are. You didn't even try to escape to warn the other rangers or save your little flower-picking expedition, Qhorin on the other hand at least tried."

"Maybe it's because this was my first fucking ranging and I have no survival skills. I'm trying my best and this is not some easy ranging. Do you really think that they would've sent Qhorin fucking Halfhand to pick flowers?"

"You are a traitor and have no idea what hard is." Jon replies

That is the moment that all the emotions and trauma Al repressed in the last few weeks come forward. In this moment, she wants to set hell on Jon and since she can't do that, she loses her composure, which she had so carefully kept.

"YOU WORTHLESS FUCKING BASTARD!," she screams as she lunges forward and begins kicking him as best as she can "YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I HAVE BEEN THROUGH IN THE LAST WEEKS AND I SWEAR TO YOU, YOU WILL REGRET THIS ONE DAY-"

Al struggles against the Wildling who picks her up and tries to carry her away from Jon.

"LET ME GO." she screams as he laughs at her and binds her to a tree across the camp. She manages to free herself and charge straight at Jon. She bodyslams him, much like the Other before she is pulled off again and this time securely bound to a tall pine tree.

The Wildlings tease her relentlessly.

"Is this your other lover?"

"What fight did you get into this time, whore?"

"Mad that he prefers boys?"

The teasing falls on deaf ears, the accusations that her quest was for nothing, however, eat away at Alethia and fuel her rage.

The last words of Ryk echo in her head: "Make it count."

It is only when the band has settled down for the night that she allows herself to cry. It isn't the quiet, pretty crying in movies, and it certainly isn't what Sansa looked like in King's Landing.

Tears and snot run down her face and she barely manages to keep herself quiet. Sobs wreck Alethias body as she feels like the ground beneath her is pulled away once more. Nothing, truly nothing has ever felt this painful. No bruise, no wound and no heartbreak. The realization settles in as the light rises again on the horizon: This won't have a happy ending. She obviously hadn't been paying attention. And now she knows what it is like to be broken, truly.

 

The next morning, Ygritte yanks her up by her bindings and looks at her with a mixture of hatred and, respect? She hands her a waterskin and undoes Alethias bindings.

"For yer eyes." is all Ygritte says

"You saw me." it isn't a question, but Ygritte answers nonetheless

"Was on watch." Alethia nods in thanks and returns the waterskin

She spends the day walking next to Qhorin and Jon. With Qhorin, she exchanges a few words, but it takes all her willpower to not lunge at Jon again.

Suddenly, the group comes to a standstill. Al sees the evil smirk of a Wildling which she has begun to call line-leader, fitting the way he always walks at the front with Rattleshirt. It infuriated him. What was that one quote from one of the later seasons?

"It's the only joy I can find in all this misery."

Quite fitting.

"Prove your loyalty, girl." the man says

"What?"

"If ye want to survive, you'll have to become one of us. We want to see what you're worth, for a southern girl. The boy has obviously betrayed the Watch already," he said, having jumped to his own conclusions "Seeing how you reacted yesterday. Now you. Kill the Halfhand. Or die tryin'"

Al and Qhorin look at each other. She is about to protest when he nods.

"I'll do it. Finally a chance to get away from this stupid order." the lie is terribly told, but they believe her. While Alethias bounds are unfastened, she sees Qhorin whisper into Jon's ear.

A sword is handed to her and she gets into fighting stance.

The Wildlings holler insults at Alethia and try to distract her but their words can't hurt her. They are her armour now.

Qhorin swings at her, and she blocks. She stays defensive as long as she can but then gradually picks up pace. Alethia knows she's one of the best fighters at Castle Black and this gives her the confidence she needs. Qhorin has added his own "taunts" to the mix, but all she hears is white noise.

Nothing matters, only this.

She swings at him, again and again until she finally manages to land a blow. Al slices through the back of Qhorins knees and then takes of both of his hands in one swing.

A long time ago, she would've marvelled at the badass girl warrior staying true to her purpose, but now she could feel the adrenaline already leaving her body.

Alethia pulled Qhorin up by his cloak. He spits in her face. "Finish it traitor." he manages

Al knows that no one but Qhorin can see the tears in her eyes. She turns to face him. "I'm so sorry." she whispers

"For the Watch." he whispers

"For the Watch." she quietly replies and stabs him in the guts.

 

Alethia had dissociated so much that she didn't realize where she was. Most of the group were gone and she was in a tent. Together with Jon and Rattleshirt. She sees Tormund walk in and snorts as Jon kneels to "the King-beyond-the-Wall"

"Aren't you gonna kneel girl?" Tormund asks

"It's not like I'm about to suck your cock, so I'll pass." she replies, using her sass as protection

Alethia stares at Tormund defiantly and is preparing herself for whatever will come next, but instead, Tormund throws his head back and roars in laughter as Jon looks at her in despair.

"I like you," he says after a while "Unlike the kneeler there you got some backbone. I think I'd steal you if I didn't already have a wife."

"You could've tried." Alethia sassed back

Tormund laughs again. "Who is she?" he asks Rattleshirt

"Some dornish whore. Joined the Watch as a bedwarmer."

This was it, Alethia realized. Her chance to quote Star Wars.

"Incredible. Everything you just said was wrong."

"So who are you then? You're not a kneeler, that's clear as ice." Tormund asks her

"If you tell Mister Alternative over there to take his ass out of this tent I might just tell you."

After Rattleshirt is gone, Al tells Tormund her story. There's no point in lying, and if anyone knows someone else from another world who lives beyond the Wall, it's Tormund.

"Sounds like a lie." Tormund says

"Ask him." Alethia points to Jon

"Why should he tell me the truth?"

"Because the stick named 'honor' is so far up his arse that it's almost coming out of his throat."

Tormund laughs again and after asking Jon, turns to you.

"I was told that you killed the Halfhand. I want you to come with us. You seem quite keen on it."

"Aye. Where I'm from, woman have more freedom." Truth. "And besides, I hate everyone in the Watch." Lie

"Including him?" Tormund gestures at Jon

"Naw. He's a traitor with me"

"Good. The two of you are coming beyond the Wall with us."

 

Soon, Mance Rayder is introduced and while Jon sulks, Alethia gests with the Wildlings and drink some of the stolen ale.

"So then there was this bear." Tormund begins. Alethia groans. She isn't sure if he's trying to impress her or if it's just Tormund.

"Yes and you fucked it." Alethia said. "We all know, get over it. We appreciate you and your extravagantly large cock."

"You've fucked him?" an irrelevant side character asks

"No, it's a metaphor."

"What's that?" everyone asks (except Jon, that prick)

"Try and figure it out."

Chapter 19: Let's disappoint each other

Summary:

Uhh? Stuff happens I guess

Notes:

I feel like my writing is really good in this. No TW, only a creep at the end

Al was not thrilled when Jon settled down next to her for the night. He had, after all, ignored her for most of the evening and hadn't even attempted to apologize.

A few weeks ago, she would've moved her sleeping place or snapped at him but now Alethia kept her mouth shut and tried to go back to sleep, she didn't want to make any wasted efforts on someone she had given up on.

Something prodded her back and Alethia jerked back to full attention, dagger in hand. She whirled around and kept her dagger ready for any unseen attackers, ready to stand her ground.

"It's just me." Jon whispered

Al careened as the tension left her body and tried to steady herself on the ground, almost faceplanting on the way.

"What do you want?" she asked

"I wanted to apologize."

"Make it quick." Alethia turned around again and got ready to go to sleep.

"No." Jon grasped her shoulder. Alethia immediately brought the dagger at his throat, hoping that her shaking hands wouldn't give away her panic.

"I want you to look at me."

"Oh."

"You can take the dagger away."

"Right." Al lowered her dagger but didn't put it away just yet.

"Alethia, I wanted to apologize to you. What I did was not only extremely rude on my part but also very insensitive to your mission and experiences. I should have never lashed out like this. Please accept my apology."

"I accept." Alethia sighed. It didn't make sense to fight, it would only endanger their missions.

"Wait what?" Jon asked perplexed

"Why shouldn't I accept? It is only logical and we need to stick together. Didn't Eddard always say that? The lone wolf dies but the pack survives."

"I think he meant his children."

"You are his son." Al argued

"You've changed Al."

"You think?"

"Yes. The old Alethia wasn't this quick to forgive, she wasn't this calculating and she wasn't this-" he paused. "Tired is the right word I believe. What happened to you?"

"You don't want to know Jon. Some things are better left untold."

Jon opened his mouth to say something but decided not to and after Alethia had lain back down, she could hear him do the same soon after.

Al couldn't sleep. It wasn't like she had had any nightmares, she couldn't fall asleep in the first place because her mind was racing.

Did Jon think she was cold and detached? Was she becoming a bad person? Where was Morgan? She hadn't seen the raven since her capture.

 

The early morning hours had barely begun when Alethia gave up on the notion of sleep and packed her things together, leaving them in a neat pile next to the softly snoring Jon.

Freshly fallen snow crunched under her boots as she walked through the silent camp, nodding to the passing wildlings. She had already made two rounds around the camp when she finally walked to a frozen stream.

The world looked so peaceful like this, everything covered in white snow, seemingly innocent, but Alethias training told her otherwise.

There were birds hunting and squirrels scavenging for food and off in the distance, she could see a pack of wolves, probably belonging to a warg.

She felt Morgan's claws dig into her cloak as the bird perched herself on her shoulder. Almost at the same time, it stopped snowing.

Al checked her pockets and stopped in surprise when her fingers brushed over a few leftover kernels of corn. She took them into her hand and waited for Morgan to sit on her arm.

"Man, man." Morgan squawked in warning, just as Alethia had attempted to train her. Al had taken the attempts as futile, but she had obviously underestimated her bird.

Al turned around and saw Mance Rayder walking up to her. Subconsciously, she grabbed her dagger under her cloak.

"That's a pretty bird you've got there."

"Thank you."

"Why are you up so early? Isn't your group supposed to leave in the morning?"

"Can't I take a walk?"

"Of course. But there is obviously something that is bothering you."

"I wouldn't tell you."

Mance laughed. "I didn't expect you to. Jon told me about your origins and from what Tormund could piece together, you've been through a lot of shit lately."

"You could say that." Al replied

"You have admirable skills, for a fighter."

Alethia narrowed her eyes at Mance.

"How long did those wildlings spy on the rangers until they captured Qhorin and me?"

"No worries, my Lady." Mance mocked

In the blink of an eye, her dagger was at the kings throat.

"Careful now. I will not be mocked for my struggles."

Despite the imminent danger her weapon posed, Mance smirked at her. "They'd kill you if you killed me. And they'd kill you slowly too."

"They would never know it was me. And besides, at this point, I don't know if I care."

"You can't play this card with me."

"I can. I have nothing to lose, only a few promises to break."

"They say you are a traitor, but now I know better." Mance said

Alethia lowered her dagger and turned her attention back to Morgan.

"Whatever you say."

"What that bird and you have is special." Mance changed the subject

"How so?"

"The forest witch told me. You have a very special bond."

"A witch? Why is she a witch?"

"You want to know if she is magical in the way you are." he stated

"Yes."

"The one you seek is somewhere behind the Wall. The one you loved is far away in the south, in a city most wildlings don't know exist."

"Morgan." Alethia breathed

"Yes. That is what the witch said at least."

"I don't put my trust in prophecies and ominous warnings, not anymore." Al said

"Maybe you should." Mance called after her, but Alethia was already walking away.

 

"There's my favorite southern girl." Tormund boomed, swaggering towards Alethia and Jon

"I'm still not from the South, you know."

"So, you got all those healing supplies?"

"Yes."

"Good. I want you to go to Orell. He's a warg." Tormund stated, as if that stated everything Al needed to know.

 

 

 

They walked in silence. Alethia could feel Orell's eyes raking over her, even in her absurd wildling clothes. Just when she felt like she wouldn't be able to take it any longer, he broke the silence.

 

"You're awfully pretty for a she-crow." he said

 

"You say that as if there are countless women in the Night's Watch."

 

He ignored her and rambled on. "They all think you're a warg. You aren't. Pretty southern girls aren't wargs. I think-"

 

"You know what I think?" Alethia interrupted him "I think that you are a prejudiced imbecile."

 

He looked at her, mouth agape. Alethia has always hated stupid people, but this one was getting on her nerves more than the usual idiot.

 

"Need it mansplained? I think you're a stupid asshole who lets his expectations get the better of him."

 

Now, Orell looked at her even more confused. Alethia threw up her hands in defeat and walked away.

 

"If you think this idiot will make me loyal to you, you're wrong Tormund. He's so incredibly stupid that he's more like to make me betray you." she shouted in his general direction

 

His laughter echoed in her ears as Alethia thought about everything Orell had done and said against Jon in the show. He really deserved the reputation of a stupid creep.

Chapter 20: Fear of Falling

Summary:

The Wall is very, very, high, but falling for someone else is far more dangerous

Notes:

Gen z Alethia is back again

With the wildlings, time passed much quicker than with the rangers. Al was not sure if it was since they were much more fun to be around or because she was constantly worrying about something. It had been almost a month now since they had left Mance Rayder’s camp behind.

Right now, for example, she was worrying about how this story would continue once again. Her thoughts were racing as she tried to find the best outcome for herself. She knew that Jon had to flee from the wildlings at some point, but she was sure he would not leave without her.

Then, there was also the matter with Ygritte. She had to make sure that Jon would fall for her despite her presence, it had been incredibly important in his character development and as much as she did not want him to be with her, she knew she had to work out that as well.

As if that weren’t enough, she now had to also think about who she would help, on which side she would fight and how she would save Jon’s ass if he got hit by those arrows. Alethia knew for a fact that the infirmary was short on the herbs needed to treat arrow wounds. She couldn’t risk losing Jon and she certainly did not want to let down Tormund either.

And most importantly, she had to go to Hardhome with them.

“Something on your mind?” Jon asked, interrupting her worries

“No. Just thinking about which herbs I need,” Al quickly lied “but what’s up with you and Ygritte, huh?” she quipped, changing the subject

Jon immediately blushed, failing his attempt on the brooding aura he would master later.

“Nothin’ really. She’s umm… pretty,” He managed “but I mean you are too, and we aren’t infatuated with each other, I mean I would never- “

The words hurt more than Alethia would have thought. Still, she kept her cheerful façade and looked up at the sky, pretending to search for telltale signs of snow.

“Yeah, sure. But I see the way you look at her. It is okay, you know, and we must keep our cover upright. If you want to fuck her, go right a- “

“Don’t talk about her like that! She’s so much more than just a pretty face and besides, what would YOU know about my feelings.” Jon’s voice had risen from a whisper to almost a shout

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Jesus, I’d forgotten how hot-headed you are. Still, just enjoy yourself while you’re at it, okay? I won’t tell, promise.” Alethia replied

“Really Al?” Jon stormed off to sulk somewhere else leaving Alethia to pick up the pieces of her annoyingly painful life.

She had forgotten how immature Jon was but even when she told herself that that was just the way it was, his words hurt. Alethia was sure that she was not jealous, but something still bothered her about the thought of Jon seriously being in love with Ygritte and not only fucking her for the sake of a mission.

“You all right?” Tormund came up behind her, following her gaze to watch Jon walk beside Ygritte.

“Yeah. Just a bit annoyed at my former sworn brother right now.”

“Why? He’s just bein’ his annoyin’ self. I don’t get what all you lassies see in him, he’s pretty yes, but I-“

“Tormund, we know you are amazing and super-strong and whatnot, but I’m not in love with Jon.”

“You sure about that?”

“Very.”

“Well I think that-“

“Tormund, do me a favor and shut the fuck up about Jon, I really don’t want to hear it.”

Tormund only laughed at Alethia and walked back to the front of the caravan, leaving her to mysteriously brood. She hoped that she at least looked good while she as at it.

 

The sun was beginning to set when someone came up to Alethia again. She looked up to see Ygritte standing next to her.
“Yes?” she asked
“So are you and Jon…” she began clumsily. Al smiled, thinking about how this was a side of Ygritte she had never gotten to see before. But it made sense, about very girl her age was insecure about something.
“No, we aren’t and we’ve never..” Alethia trailed off, desperately searching for a way to make this less awkward.
After another few moments of deafening silence, she began talking again. “He likes you very much, you know. He’s just a dumbass when it comes to his feelings. Like everyone else in this hellhole.”

“Thank you. I- Are you really from another world?” Ygritte blurted out

“Uh, yeah, why? I mean, you gotta decide for yourself if you’re gonna believe it but, yes I am.”

“I do believe you. Don’t you miss it? Your people and your home? You seem so… far away sometimes.”

Alethia laughed, but on the inside, this was what she had feared most. She had tried so hard to fit in, to be nice and live a normal life, but she was so obviously still an outsider, and seemingly hated everything.

“Every day.”

“Will you go back if you can?” Ygritte asked. Al was about to snarkily reply how that was out of question, but she realized that she wasn’t so sure.

“I don’t know. The world here I’m from moves very quickly. I don’t even know how long I’ve been gone, I mean I’ve been here for almost two and a half years now, I came here when I was fourteen and now I’m sixteen, going on to seventeen. I’ve missed a lot of my education, my family might have relocated and I will probably never fit in there either.”

Alethia was still talking while the impact of her words actually hit her. She had no clue how life back home would be. Wouldn’t it be nicer, kinder even to just stay here forever?

“Excuse me.” She said, leaving Ygritte to stand at the edge of the camp that had been begun to set up. She walked into the forest, leaving the group behind. Morgan flew from the sky and settled on her shoulder, quiet again.

Alethia noticed the tears streaming down her face when they began to freeze in the cold. Quickly, she wiped them away and stroked Morgan’s feathers. Here was no place to show weakness, not if there were all these people around.

 

She walked back to camp only to regret it immediately when she saw Tormund explaining the art of making love to Jon. Still, she sat down next to him patting his back in an attempt to make the situation less awkward and to signal to him that she had forgiven him his earlier stunt. Jon smiled at her in return.

“So Alethia, what do you enjoy? Or are you a virgin too?” Tormund suddenly asked

Once again, Alethia decided that it was time to go back on her age-old motto of “Fuck it”.

“Whelp, seems like it’s time for me to come out to y’all.” She said

“What does that mean?” Jon asked

“Uhh, well, while I’ve never ya know,…, been with a man, I have fucked another woman before… possibly…” Alethia seriously hoped Wildlings weren’t homophobic.
Instead of attacking her, Tormund began to laugh.

“Be careful Snow, she might steal your woman. Happens quite often, they tend to know how to get it on much better.” He managed between the laughs

“So you fall in love with women?” Jon asked

“Yep. And men too. Makes me a bisexual.” Alethia didn’t try to begin to explain different gender identities to Jon right now, he probably didn’t understand that.

“Lady Catelyn always said that was wrong,” Jon replied “I guess I support this whole thing,” he gestured at Al rudely “then.” He smiled.

Soon, the both of them were laughing at his antics, only stopping when dinner was served. Al was happy, happier than she’d been in a long time that night. But of course, depression got the better of her and as she settled down for the night she realized once more.

She was completely alone. Jon was busy with Ygritte, and there was no one else from the Watch here. She missed her friends from New York, she missed Morgan, who was apparently also in Westeros, Maester Aemon, but most importantly, she missed Sam, Green and Pyp.
Her underrated, amazing, loyal friends without anger issues or mood swings. Soon, it would be time to get back to them. One thing was for sure, Alethia certainly wasn’t going to climb that high-ass wall.

Notes:

Sorry for the misleading chapter title

Chapter 21: the Climb (or: the escape for Alethia- finally)

Summary:

Finally some decent fucking people

Notes:

TW: disgusting creeps, murder

Jon and Ygritte were catching up with the group while Alethia and Tormund were talking about their next move.

“The Wall isn’t that far anymore, I mean, I can already see it.” Alethia told him “When are we going to climb it?”

“If we keep up this pace, tomorrow. If Jon can’t keep it in his pants, a few days after that.” Tormund replied, shooting Jon a look that was something between amusement and annoyed resignment.

“Good to know. What happens after that?” Alethia asked, still set on getting as much out of Tormund as she could before she made a run for it.

“Why do you wanna know lass, ye barely talk to anyone b’sides me and Jon.”

“I like to be prepared.” Alethia replied and saw Ygritte throwing herself into Jon’s arms, obviously making fun of him. Al felt her stomach twist as she watched

Jon laugh and spin her around. That used to be her. It was like she didn’t mean anything to Jon anymore.

“Hey Jon, keep up.” She yelled over her shoulder before stomping of to walk next to Harra, who was, thankfully, mute.

With the heaven-sent silence, which was only occasionally interrupted by Morgan’s flapping wings, accompanying Alethia the whole day, she had enough time
to plan her escape thoroughly. And the more she thought about it, the more excited she got to see her friends again.

 

Everyone in camp was sleeping soundly when Alethia quietly gathered up what she hadn’t managed to pack up the night before. She almost felt bad, abandoning Tormund, Jon and Ygritte like that, but she was determined to keep her promises.

Who would’ve thought that she would ever become this honorable?

The focus was on almost though, and when she saw Jon lying right next to Ygritte, all of his attention on her, that too was forgotten.

With Morgan sent ahead, Alethia would be all alone for the next few hours, hopefully. What she hadn’t counted on was Orell coming back from taking a piss in the middle of the night.

“Where you going?” he asked

Al panicked, but now was not the time for losing her shit, so she pulled herself together and made up the best and at the same time worst lie she could
manage at that moment.

“I reconsidered. Maybe I do want someone to steal me away.” And with that, Alethia crashed her lips on Orell’s, hoping to make up for the terrible lie.

His lips tasted like Theon’s breath but Alethia just pushed him deeper into the forest, away from camp for some “privacy”.

“So desperate for me?” Orell whispered into her ear, almost making her laugh. His hand groped her ass, thankfully not on her right side though.

“No, not really.” Alethia whispered back and grabbed her dagger.

Orell looked at her confused and opened his mouth to say something but Alethia clamped her hand over it and pushed him against the next tree to slit his throat.

“Son of a-“ Alethia gasped out when Orell bit down on her hand, but then again, it was kind of the reasonable thing to do.

Soon enough, he stopped moving. Alethia pulled him farther into the forest, hoping that the maneuver hadn’t cost her too much time. His body was
haphazardly covered with some sticks and Al was considering to leave him there when she felt something sharp dig into her shoulder.

It could’ve been Morgan, but when the bird started to peck at her neck, Alethia started to panic.

Swatting it off as hard as she could manage she grabbed for her dagger but the bird came at her again, raking his claws over her right eye.

This time, Alethia screamed out in pain and panic. The bird came at her again and Alethia weakly threw up an arm to protect herself, but the impact never
happened. When Alethia opened her eyes, or what was left of them, she saw that Morgan had once again thrown herself against something to save her.

Determined to not make the raven pay for her mistake, Al grabbed her dagger again and stabbed at the other bird until it was dead, just like the warg in front of her.

“Some fucking antibiotics would probably be great right now.” Alethia muttered. Even though the bird hadn’t managed to blind her, it’s claws were probably full of nasty stuff and an eye infection was the last thing she needed right now.

She got up, wanting to make up for the time she had lost and to see Aemon for help. Then, Alethia hesitated. She couldn’t risk leaving Orell to reanimate. One Other could make a hell of a difference.

But Others couldn’t swim. It would mean that Alethia had to go out of her way, yet if that was what it took…

Orell was lighter than she had anticipated but that didn’t change that Alethia barely made it to the next stream. By then, the sun had risen substantially. This far in the north, that burning orb in the sky never bothered to even sink.

Judging by its height, Alethia estimated that it was about two in the morning, meaning that someone had probably noticed her absence by now. She was
praying that it was Jon.

When Orell’s corpse was just next to the stream, Al took off most of his furs and then cut one of the longest pieces to a kind of rope. She searched for a heavy stone and when she found one she could barely lift, she dragged it over and carefully tied it to the body.

The rest of the furs she dropped a few hundred meters downstream, where the current would hopefully carry them north.

Al put in a little jog, hoping that the heavy snowfall and her little excursion would throw them off, if they tried to go after her.

 

Alethia had walked at least for a few hours now into the direction of what she hoped was the direction of Castle Black. Suddenly, she saw a lone horse galloping towards her.

“Woah, woah, easy.” She tried to calm the horse but it was skitterish. Alethia hoped that it hadn’t encountered the dead, but then again, it wouldn’t probably be here.

Alethia patted the horse’s pale, matted fur and when it had calmed down enough, got onto the saddle that someone had kindly left for her.

Her stomach turned when she noticed its color. Of course it had to be from the Night’s Watch, but she had still hoped…

 

 

After getting onto the horse, Alethia made much quicker time. Soon, the Wall came into her vision and a few hours later, she could make out the first watchpost with a burning fire.

When she saw the gate, she could’ve almost cried with joy. Now there was one question left to answer: how would she get to the other side.

For once, Alethia seemed to be lucky, because when she approached the gate, a few builders were working on it for repairs.

“Hey, can y’all open up please?” Alethia yelled, basically into the void but whatever

Instantly, she could hear several swords sloppily be drawn.

“Uh, it’s meheee.” She yelled again

“Wait, Alethia?” she heard someone yell back

“Grenn? Open up this gate please I’m freezing my ass off.”

“Like you have any.”

“NOW IS NOT THE FUCKING TIME TO DISCUSS MY ASS, OR LACK THEREOF.”

“Lady Black?” she heard someone else yell

“Yarwick?”

Then more quietly, she heard the first builder yell at the incompetent recruits

“Open up the goddamn gates before the last young decent person in this fucking place dies on me.”

Slowly, the gate was pulled up, the chains creaking so much that Alethia feared they would snap in two, probably while she was under it.

As soon as the gate was open, Alethia ran into the tunnel, leaving the horse behind.

Grenn caught her in full sprint, almost doubling over but managing to catch both of them. Alethia hugged him tightly and Grenn hugged her back even tighter, so much so that she thought she’d die an extremely embarrassing death.

“It’s good to have you back sister.” Grenn said when they pulled apart and placed a kiss on her cheek.

“You too Grenn. I missed all of you.”

“We missed you too,” he said “do you have any idea where Jon is?” he looked past you, as if hoping that Jon would jump out from behind her horse

“He’s still out there, on the mission.”

“Oh, okay then. Let’s get you inside.”

 

 

Alethia sighed in relief when she was clean and warm in the infirmary. Yarwick had sent her there after getting Daemon to draw her a bath. It was nice that
some people wanted her back. And it was nice not having to constantly look over your shoulder all the time.

Then, it knocked on her door. Alethia sighed, disgruntled about her peace being interrupted. “Come in.” she called out finally

“Oh, hello.” Sam said when he stuck his head inside, as if he was surprised by her presence

“Sam!” Alethia jumped up from her chair and hugged the boy tightly “I was worried you hadn’t made it back.”

“Well, here I am. Sorry I’m not Maester Aemon he’s with-“

“Little Sam and Gilly?”

“Gods don’t do that, it’s creepy.”

“Fine.” Alethia threw up her arms in mock defeat

“Let’s take care of your face okay?”

“That would be good, actually.”

Sam worked quickly, but more importantly, quietly and soon, Alethia was all fixed up and ready to go.

“Maester Aemon wants you to go to the smithy.”

“I’ll be on my way.”

“Hey Al?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ever leave this place again. It’s hell without you.”

“I won’t.”

“You sure Al? I just want us to be on the same page.”

“Page? We aren’t even in the library Sam.” Al joked, already half out of the door. She could just make out Sam groaning at her terrible pun.

Notes:

I'm so excited to continue this story, the next few chapters will be a bit more wholesome, featuring the Watch family and awesome Alethia

Chapter 22: Misogynists don't die out ig

Summary:

More fluff in the midst of an angsty world

Notes:

TW: sexual assault
Sorry for the late upload, I was working through some school stuff and forgot to write a draft BUT I have school holidays which means more uploads (hopefully)

The smithy, like almost everything else, hadn't changed one bit since Alethia had left. The familiar smellhit her nose before she could feel the heat emanating from the smelting ovens. She looked around a bit, noticing two recruits standinng in the corner and being instructed by another smith when Donal Noye walked in.

"Lady Black, welcome home!" he called out

"Noye! Didn't think I'd be seeing you again."

"What? Ye think I'd die before you come back?" he asked, but his tone was relaxed

"Thought I'd die to be honest."

"Your accent's changed."

"What?"

"Your accent has changed. Ye sound more like a northerner."

"Well I guess that's what you get from ranging beyond the Wall for half a year." Alethia laughed and Noye soon joined her.

"But that's not the reason you wanted to see me, is it?" she asked once again

"No. I've got a present for my favourite lady."

"Favourite? I feel honored."

"I'm damn glad that Thorne let me make it for you. Didn't think he'd support the idea."

"What idea?"

"You getting yer own sword."

"Are you for real?!" Alethia managed

"Yes, come and see."

Alethia followed Donal around a few supplies and to the back of the smithy. Donal grabbed a sword from a display and handed it to her.

"Here," he said "Now it just needs a name."

"Well," Alethia joked "it seems like Lady Black is already taken." Then, Alethia noticed the ripples in the blade.

"This isn't a Valyrian Sword, is it?" she asked

"No. It does have some Valyrian Steel in it though."

It wasn't a dark sword, like Ice had been, the blade reflected more light and certainly wasn't that soul-eating shade of grey. No, this sword was lighter and Alethia could see her own reflection in the blade.

"Damn, I feel like Mulan."

"I'm going to pretend I know what ye mean."

"Please do." Alethia turned back to the blade. She felt like she was under an immense amount of pressure. What would she call this sword? This was a fucking lifetime commitment. And guess who had commitment issues.

"You know, the steel came from a fallen star. We found it early inn the morning."

"A fallen star you say?"

"Yes."

"Well then it seems like there is only one fitting choice for this sword."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I'll call it Lucifer." Alethia wrote the name down on a piece of parchment in bold letters.

"I'll have that engraved in the handle."

"Thank you." Alethia turned to leave the smithery when her stomach protested. Only now she realized how hungry she was.

"Oh and Lady Black?" Noye called "Go and get something to eat. Your stomach needs it."

"Yes sir!"

 

"Hey Al! Al wait up!" Alethia came to a halt so abruptly that Pyp, who had been running acorss the courtyard, bumped into her.

"Pyp? You're at least a head bigger than half a year ago!" Alethia exclaimed

"Well you had, what do they call it? You had this sparkle up thing." Pyp said

"Sparkle up? OHH you mean a glow up?"

"Yes that. Whatever, I'm really hungry. You comin'?"

"Sure am."

The two walked in silence and entered the dining hall. Immediately, Alethia could feel the heads of recruits turn in her direction.

"So, umm, did anyone keep up with the Lady's speech while I was gone?" she asked Pyp nervously while the cook handed her the same stew as always.

"Yes, but the recruits have never seen you before." Pyp told her while looking at the stew like it was his salvation.

"Speaking of recruits, what have I missed."

"Oh not much. Most of 'em are pretty boring. There's this one guy from King's Landing though, Ser Janos Slynt. Pretentious bastard. And then there's this guy that they call the goat of somewhere. His ear is missing!"

Al laughed at that. "Oh yeah we can accredit that to Lady Brienne."

"Hmm?" Pyp asked through a mouthful of stew.

"Nevermind. Just don't bring up sapphires around him. That topic could be more sensitive than his ear!"

The two giggled like gossipping schoolgirls. Alethia took a sip of the ale and swallowed before the taste could reach her throat.

"This stuff is aweful! Even the wildlings make better ale!" Alethia exclaimed

"Maybe I should go behind the Wall then." Pyp joked

If Alethia thought she could have a peaceful meal, boy was she wrong. After she had finished half her stew, Janos Slynt sat his pompous ass a little too close to her.

"And who is this? The famous Lady Black? You certainly are much prettier than that wilding girl." he drawled in an awful accent that Alethia couldn't quite place

"Feel free to observe from a distance." Alethia replied while simultaneosly scooting away from him. He, of course, followed her lead. Alethia looked at Pyp who shrugged and kept eating.

Alethia sighed. Pyp was right, she would have to handle this on her own or they would never respect her. Still, Slynt hadn't done anything punishable yet, if you didn't count his body odor.

"And what do we have here?" Slynt suddenly asked, grabbing the bracelet Alethia had been toying with.

Rickon had given it to her, basically begging her not to tell Lady Catelyn that he knew how to make friendship bracelets because he wasn't supposed to know the red haired lady that sometimes came to "visit" Theon in Winterfell.

"Give it back." Alethia replied calmly

"You don't command me." he smirked

"I do, in fact, command you." Alethia replied "You see, I am the only experienced ranger present at Castle Black, which makes me First Ranger while the others are still gone. Also, I am in charge of the infirmary, meaning that I decide whether or not I treat your hurts. Lastly, I am a respected member of the Night's Watch. And you are what? Merely a green boy."

While Alethia had been talking, Slynt had stopped smiling and by the end of it, he was red with anger.

"I'm not a boy." he said

"Well if you're a man, you'll have no problem with giving it back." she replied

Slowly, Janos Slynt got up. He really was an idiot. Even though he had never seen Alethia stand up, it was common knowledge around Castle Black that its Lady was quite tall and if faced with the problem of height, would find a way to bring you to your knees. And also, he was really fucking short.

Alethia pushed back the bench and levelled up with Slynt, who was now trying to look past the fact that he was a head and a half shorter than Al. Ridiculous if you consider that he couldn't even look past Alethia.

Coolly, Alethia stretched out her hand. "I'll want that back then."

She noticed how the hall had quieted down to observe the fight. She also noticed that Thorne was watching her very closely. Well shit.

"No I don't think I'll give it back." Slynt said and pushed past her.

Alethia let him, knowing she would get her revenge later in the evening. Until Slynt decided he wanted to sample her backside.

"Not as good as the whores in King's Landing." he shouted loudly, some recruits cheering him on. He was about to continue on his way when Alethia whirled around, grabbed him by his collar and pushed him up against the next wall, dagger against his throat.

"I advise you to listen very closely, ser." she said, her face inches from his "I didn't let the King grope me in Winterfell, that's why I'm here, so if you think I'll let an arrogant plonker like you get away with it, you're even more stupid than I previously presumed. Do it again, and you're dead."

Alethia let him drop to the floor where he scrambled away from her. Then, she turned to her attentive crowd. Putting on her bracelet, she began talking:

"Now, I've heard that Ser Alliser was so kind to keep you all informed of certain penalties here at Castle Black. Ser Janos Slynt is more stupid than I thought, but what can you do. I advise you to act differently. This will be my only warning. My tolerance is much lower now." she smiled danngerously and sat back down across from Pyp.

 

 

A few minutes passed when she heard the bell being rung. She knew what this meant. Slowly, all brothers that weren't on watch duty filed into the hall and sat down to await the announcement that was about to be made.

Sam and Grenn were among the last, closely followed by Gilly. Al gave her a quick nod and patted the free spot next to her, which the woman gladly took.

"Where's little Sam?" Al whispered

"He's with the Maester. Are you the Traveller Sam told me about?" she asked

"The what-" Alethia began but Thorne banged the table to gather attention. The hall quieted down and Alethia too stopped conversing with Gilly.

"Brothers, as some of you might have heard, there was an incident a few minutes ago, in just this hall." Alliser said, and quickly explained the turn of events. To Alethia's surprise, very accurately.

"I will remind you all that the Lady's speech and the rules that apply are still in place. They also count for that wilding. Now, we must punish Slynt. How?"

The hall grew loud, and some were quick to call for his death while many new recruits said that it was Alethia's fault. But Alethia had seen enough blood, she wanted him punished all the same though.

"IF I MAY!" she yelled

"The accusations against this man are true. But I have seen enough blood beyond the Wall. What the Starks say is true! Winter is coming. And this time, it's coming for all of us. We need as many ablebodied men as we can get. I will not see Janos Slynt beheaded, but that doesn't mean that he shouldn't be punished."

Cheers erupted from many experienced brothers and even some recruits had joined in.

"Mutilating him in any way is not a logical thing to do. I propose that he takes on the work he sees as below him for two months."

This was met with agreement and soon Ser Alliser banged his fist on the table.

"She's right. When Slynt came here, he refused to do anything he viewed as lowly, making work for the other recruits more strenous. I agree with Lady Black. Slynt will clean out stables, sweep floors, lay out rushes and do other lowly work for two months. Hopefully some reflection will settle in his frogbrain." he paused

"As for the issue of a missing first ranger, Lady Alethia will remain first ranger until five rangers from Seawatch arrive next week. Pay her the respect that is due."

Notes:

It was fucking painful writing this and realizing I couldn't use the Lil Nas X meme.

Chapter 23: Little Flower

Summary:

Alethia finds out what a “traveler” really is and meets to Maester Aemon for the first time in a long time.

Notes:

TW: mentions of rape, violence

Breakfast was already over by the time Alethia had woken up and walked down to the dining hall. The last day had been very eventful and worn her out and when Ser Alliser said that she was released from duties for the morning she almost hugged him then and there.

The porridge was all gone and Alethia was about to turn around and leave when she heard someone call her name.

“Miss Alethia?” Gilly called nervously

Alethia had not noticed her before, the wildling had carefully concealed herself in a dark corner of the dining hall and was currently taking care of Little Sam.

“Yes?” Alethia asked, making long strides to the table

“Sam said you would sleep in, so I saved you some food. It’s cold though.”

“Oh, that is very kind of you.”

“I always wanted to meet a traveler.” Gilly suddenly blurted out.

“I have no clue what you mean.” Alethia replied

“Well, there’s this story. My sister used to tell it to me. We wildlins’ believe that when the Children of the Forest think our home is in danger, they call a traveler from another world.”

“How many have there been?”

“Before you turned up only two.” That caught Alethia’s attention

“Are they still alive?”

“One is. The other has been dead for a long, long time.”

“Tell me.” Alethia was surprised at her commanding tone and tried to look friendly but probably failed miserably

“She- She’s a shieldmaiden. A wildlin’ like me. She stole herself a wife!” Gilly exclaimed

“What is her name?”

“She first called herself Katerina, but I think she changed her name to Karsi. Tha’s the old tongue.”

“Thank you, Gilly, and thank you for the porridge.”

“Welcome.”

Alethia left Gilly to her own devices and hastily left the dining hall. She was headed to the library, maybe she would find some answers there. Surprised and relieved that Sam was not there, she started looking through the books, without success. Then, she sat down at one of the tables and tried to remember a character named Karsi.

After a few minutes, Alethia gave up. It made sense that she could not read about wildling lore, most of it was told orally and westerosi Maesters would never
bother with Wildlings.

 

 

The sun was beating down on Alethia, who had to squint her eyes to make out the silhouette of the Wall. It was melting, again. She would talk to Ser Alliser and the council about strengthening the defenses. If anyone would take her seriously.

But first, she had to talk to Maester Aemon. He was there where she had last talked to him. When she entered his chambers, his back was turned to her and
he was looking out of the window. The steward announced her and then left, closing the door behind her.

“It is quite ridiculous, the act I put on. I cannot see what they are doing in the courtyard.” Maester Aemon broke the silence.

Alethia remained quiet. She had missed the old Targaryen, her mentor and friend and she had wanted to tell him about everything that had happened so badly but now that she was there, every thought about that was gone.

“It is good to see you again, Little Flower. Though you probably are not as little as the last time we met. And you are not as careless either. I have heard quite troubling reports. I admit, I feared the worst.”

“That was a terrible pun there with seeing me again.” Alethia choked out

Aemon chuckled. “I agree. But you are so quiet. There is a darkness about you, Flower.”

“Do you know the legend of travelers.” Alethia said, choosing to ignore Aemons ominous talk.

“I do. Gilly was quite excited to tell it to someone who would listen.”

“Does the name Karsi tell you anything?” she asked desperately

“No. Sorry.”

“I wish we could go back to how it was before. Where I was loud and free and happy, and you had decided to be my grandfather and mentor.” Alethia blurted
out. She did not understand what was wrong with her. She had thought of herself as more composed, more calculating. But then again, this was Maester
Aemon. She could trust him. Right?

“We will never be the same again. Least of all you. But you had to go beyond the Wall, you had to see the danger to come.”

“I knew of the danger. I do not understand why I had to lose so much though. WHY?” Alethia shouted the last word. She lunged forward, as if to grip the old
man by the shoulders and shake him but stopped herself in the last moment. Why was he so infuriating?

“Flower, Winter is coming, and I fear I will not live to see it. One day in the near future, I will be- “

“NO, STOP!” she yelled at him. Tears pricked in her eyes, all the emotions she had bottled up about to flow over. The grief, the anger, and the fear. Her words echoed on the bare walls. And Maester Aemon was quiet.

When she felt the pressure on her hand, she almost pulled her dagger until she realized it was Maester Aemon. He was comforting her.

“I need you to listen, Alethia. I like to presume that I am wise. Snow will leave this Castle and then only fools will be left. He is a fool himself sometimes. By
then, I will be dead. Few will mourn me, but that does not matter. You need to protect this world, Alethia. Dragons do not fit in it anymore, but neither do the Others. I want you to make the right choices. Understand?”

“I will mourn you.” She replied instead

“I know dear. But I will wait for you on the other side. Until your time has come as well.”

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“What? You have done incredible things Alethia, the things I am requesting will be hard, yes, but not impossible.”

“That’s not what I meant. Right now, I’m not even sure if I am willing to live another day.”

“You have to. We all have our responsibilities. It is not fair, but I fear the world is at least partly on your shoulders.”

“Is this some kind of stupid prophecy you didn’t tell me about?” Alethia asked angrily, drying off her tears.

“There are no prophecies. None that I believe in anyways. But I trust you. I do not mean Lady Black, nor Miss Alethia of the great house Stahl. I mean the girl that came to Westeros and desperately lied to survive. I trust you.”

Alethia fled the room. She needed air.

 

 

“Alethia? Hey Alethia?” Pyp tapped her on the shoulder. Alethia looked up at him.

“Ser Alliser- Why in the seven hells are you sitting on the stairs? Those are cold! You’ll catch a cold.”

“Oh.” Alethia got up and looked around. The halls around them were empty and dark. She had not realized how much time had passed but now she felt the
cold stairs.

“Anyways, Ser Alliser wants you to join some meeting. He was a complete arse about it, and you’ll miss dinner with me,” he did a little twirl (that dude was
definitely gay) “but the food will be great. I think.”

“Thank you Pyp.”

 

The sight of fine Arbor wine and rich swan with butter and garlic almost made Alethia throw up. It was an unnecessary luxury the Watch could not afford, and for what? A dinner with a bunch of old men.

Most of the things talked about were of no concern to Alethia. Hardness of stone or the constant draft problems in the improvised sept, those things were
boring and again – unnecessary in the face of danger – at least Aletia thought that way. She did listen to the other things though (mostly).

“There has been a Wildling attack again. They came from Hardhome and swooped down on Seawatch. And they were led by a woman!” a man spat

“Is it that Karsi again?” Ser Alliser sneered

Alethia pretended to sip her wine will wracking her brain again. There had been no mention on attacks on Seawatch, but Hardhome she knew. And then she
remembered.

Again, Alethia was lost in thought while contemplating whether or not to save Karsi from the Others when Ser Alliser directed a question at her.

“What about the next rangings?”

“What about them?” Alethia asked

It earned her a laugh, but she had meant it, being lost in her own mind. When Ser Alliser shot her a look she apologized.
"Please forgive me Ser, I am still getting used to a position of such responsibility."

She remembered she was the First Ranger now and told them the first thing that came to mind.

“A ranging to Craster’s Keep would make sense. There are traitors there, breaking their vows and raping innocent women.”

“Why do we care? They’re wildings.” Someone said and Alethia heard the shouts of agreement

“Because they are still humans. Besides, those men are traitors. The Wall is the subject of ridicule in the realm, and we already look weak enough. Nobody gives a shit about us! We cannot look even weaker. I say we give those men what they deserve. They are traitors, they are deserters, they are rapists!”
The men cheered at that. Only one remained silent. Alethia recognized him, he was new at Castle Black, but Locke was no stranger to Harrenhal. And what rape was.

“And who would lead that ranging?” he sneered

“Why, I would. I am the First Ranger after all. I understand that you want to protect your fellow rapists and save them their sapphires, but it is still necessary.
And you are coming with me.”

Alethia knew this would mean his death, probably. It was a rash decision, made in a split-second and not well thought through but she had made it.
And it was what he deserved. The horrors inflicted on fellow women through him, and his pack had turned Alethia’s stomach while reading. She would make sure he was brought to justice as well.

Notes:

I really thought I could escape assignments, but no, I am stuck studying and can't upload more frequently even throughout spring break

Chapter 24: We all have our burdens

Summary:

Alethia leads a ranging and sees a familiar face beyond the Wall. The impact of her burdens hits her harder than she expected, and they just keep coming.

Notes:

TW: violence, death, gore, allusions to rape

The morning was as cold as any when the men if the Night’s Watch mounted their horses, ready for another unpredictable ranging. Satin was giving Alethia her sword and checking all the saddle straps as she looked out of the gate and into the dark wilderness that lay ahead of her.

She was scared, she would be crazy if she were not. There were too many dangers, too many variables and too many things that could go wrong. Yet as the caravan began leaving Castle Black, a calm as cold as winter itself began to fill Alethia.

The last time she had went past the gate, she had been a girl who had fancied herself a woman, with almost no combat experience and even less experience in everything else. She had been helpless and alone. But this time, everything would go according to plan and Alethia would decide her losses, not nature.

Alethia turned back one last time to look onto the Wall. It stood tall this morning, as if to give her the strength she needed and a grizzled ranger behind her nodded with approval. An Ironman was someone Alethia was not exactly inclined to trust, but he had given her no reason for distrust either and Ser Alliser had promised him to be a loyal man.

When she had asked what his crime was, he had looked to the floor, Alethia had thought in shame perhaps but when Ser Alliser met her eyes, he smirked.

His crimes were unknown, he had said, but when he returned alone from the sea with naught but his clothes and a piece of dragonglass, they had sent him to Castle Black for mutiny.

Ser Alliser had found it ironic, funny even, but Alethia was relieved. She did not prod the man for the truth, she did not want to hear what the sea had done to him, but she thought it too good to be a coincidence.

Alethia smiled to herself. Well, it was more baring her teeth, but she did not care. Alethia Stahl did not believe in destinies or prophecies anymore. However mysterious this man was, he had managed to swim ashore from the middle of the ocean all while a storm was raging. He had already been a survivor when he came to the Wall.

This ranging needed people like him.

 

time skip
“Why did you take me on this ranging if you despise me so Lady Black?” Locke had sat down across from her, staring into the flames.

“I don’t answer to you. I thought you qualified; you’re coming.”

“Yes, but surely there is a reason- “he began

“What do you want?” Alethia snapped

“A girl like you, barely a woman, should not be leading a ranging. Seven Hells, you shouldn’t even be in Castle Black.”

Alethia thought about the words. It was true, she was too young for this. No one her age should be burdened with this much responsibility, this much pain. Yet here she was.

“I agree Locke, I am too young to have these burdens to carry. But I am carrying them because I can, because I am trusted enough to do so. Question my authority again and I’ll make you regret it.”

“What? Are you going to kill me girl? I bet you can’t even stomach butchering a chicken.”

“I know what you and your men did to the women you found on the march to Harrenhal. If you disobey me, I will not kill you. No death I could give you would ever be a fate kind enough for you.”

Locke laughed at her. Alethia smiled again, a smile that Locke could not see from where he was sitting. It was a cruel smile, and later that night, Alethia would be afraid of herself of the way she had enjoyed the thought of revenge for all the women, children, and men, but in that moment, nothing felt righter.

Then, she got up from her seat and walked to the far end of the camp.

“Men! We will scout ahead to Craster’s Keep tomorrow. You,” she pointed at the Ironman “Take first watch. We ride before dawn.”

There was a collective groan at the thought of getting up this early, but no one questioned her commands out loud and soon, Alethia settled down to sleep.

 

time skip
She woke in a cold sweat that night. Alethia looked around her, checking if she had woken anyone, but all the men were sleeping soundly. There were two rangers taking watch and patrolling the perimeter.

Alethia sank down on her bedroll and reflected on her dreams. They were nightmares, of course.

She had dreamt of Morgan. By now, the heartache had worn off and Alethia knew that Morgan was in love with someone else. She had dreamt of Sansa as well. She had seen her in the courtyard in Winterfell, quietly looking at the woman who had claimed to be her friend.

Sansa had shed no tears when she saw her, skinned, and nailed to a post. Alethia was not sure if this was a memory of the show or fragments of her imagination. She hoped Sansa was still alive and fighting. Alethia was not sure to who, but she prayed that Sansa was not experiencing the pain she knew she probably would.

Alethia shifted her mind to the next dream, her memory already fleeting. She had dreamt of Jon, taking her into her arms and telling her everything would be alright, Jon drawing his sword and facing down a cavalry alone and Jon, standing in front of a huge weirwood tree. He had turned his back to her but when she called out to him, his eyes had been blue. The wrong kind of blue.

The last moments of her dream had confused her. She had seen Bran, feeding Morgan out of the palm of his hand. He had stared right back at her.

Alethia had never dreamt of Bran before, but she knew she would probably see him at Craster’s Keep. Perhaps he had contacted her on purpose?

 

 

time skip
As Craster’s Keep came into Alethia’s field of vision, she halted the horses again.

“The team I chose this morning will go scout ahead. We stick to the plan, if you get into trouble, make sure to call us in. I want full manpower in there. We only kill traitors. Understood?”

There were murmurs of approval and soon, the scouts rode ahead.

Alethia was sure something would go wrong, so she kept her sword and dagger ready. Adrenaline was coursing through her, as if she were in the middle of the fight.

“You don’t think they’ll make it.” The Ironman stated

“I don’t believe in luck, that is all.”

“Very wise.”

“Merely logical.” Alethia replied. The man snorted yet he got his weapons ready as well, the spear with a dragonglass tip chief among them.

“How come you never asked for my name?” he said

“How come you fight with a spear? That’s a typically dornish weapon.”

“Wanted to fight with what saved my life and I’m shit with daggers. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t have to.” Al replied. The man only raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll ask for it if you survive the attack.” She finally added.

“The Wall made you this way.” He spoke. Alethia knew exactly what it meant, she had seen it happen to Pyp, Grenn, Jon, even Sam. But that was not the case with her.

“No. Men made me this way. But it does not matter. The person I used to be is dead. And even if she were to come back, she wouldn’t last two days.”

“You miss her.”

“I wish I could be her again. I suppose you weren’t like this before the shipwreck either.”

“I’m a brother for mutiny.”

“And I’m not an idiot. Anyone with the least bit of sense knows no one this loyal ever committed mutiny.”

The man was about to say something when they noticed the signal. Alethia galloped straight ahead, hoping that the rest would follow her. The Ironman was right behind her and when she looked back, he nodded with approval. Good.

 

 

time skip
Alethia took the head of the first man she saw off with a swing from her sword. She had just committed murder, and before, this would have turned her stomach, but now, Alethia could not risk being unfocused. She kept on urging her horse forward killing at least four men before getting of the horse and rushing inside, killing until it all became a blur.

Then, amid it all, she spotted Locke. When he left the hut, she followed him, using the skills she had learned from Tormund.

And there he was, standing in front of bran and Hodor, threatening him with a sword.

“Leave us alone.” Bran said, “We don’t mean you any harm.”

“You’re the Lord of Winterfell. Why should I? The Boltons will pardon me if I bring them your head. Give me a good reason not to kill you.”

“Turn around.” Alethia said. It was a pretty good reason in her opinion.

Locke stared at her, terrified.

“I don’t need to torture you to death. You’ll be in the lowest of the Seven Hells anyways.” And with that, Alethia killed the man she had to call ally for a short time.

“Alethia?” Bran asked

“Go. Find the three-eyed raven.”

“What? I don’t understand- “he began

“You will. Now go.” Alethia could hear the fight in the keep coming to an end.

“Alethia, I don’t think- “

“You don’t have the time. You will understand, I promise. Now go, and don’t look back.”

Alethia ran back into the keep and made her way inside, ignoring the screams of dying men and scared women all around her. She did not count her kills; she did not want to know. Finally, Alethia entered the keep.

She found herself face to face with the man from Flea Bottom, the one Jon had killed in the show.

“Who are you and why haven’t I seen you around dear? Prettier than all of them tha’s fo sure.” He slurred, raking his eyes over Alethia’s body

“I’ve come to kill you.”

“You really want your sisters to see that?”

“They are not my sisters. Not by blood. I wish they had the strength to kill you for all the pain you inflicted. I guess I will do it for the- “

The man lunged himself at Alethia before she could finish. He had no reason to let her, and Alethia knew he fought dirty. That was something she was good at, at least. Lying and cheating and deceiving.

Women’s weapons.

Alethia smirked.

She parried the blows with her sword, sloppily, giving him the impression of an easy fight. He was blowing hits and Alethia let herself fall back. When he began to open his defense, she disarmed him, taking one of his daggers.

He sliced the back of her hand though, and Alethia grunted with effort. Suddenly, she stumbled backwards and fell flat on her back.

Seriously Al, this cliché, she thought to herself, I thought we could do better.

Letting go of her sword, she rolled onto her stomach, avoiding the flying dagger by almost nothing. She looked to the side and saw that at least five centimeters (two inches) of her hair had been chopped off.

Reality came crashing back onto her and then, Alethia was a little girl again, terrified of dying. Blinded by fear, she grabbed her dagger from her coat lining.

But the man had used her fear to his advantage and straddled her, raising his dagger over her head. Alethia raised her arm, deflecting the dagger. Suddenly, there was a bloodcurdling scream and the woman who had been in the room pushed the man off Alethia.

His dagger fell to the floor and now, the unarmed woman was on top of him. Alethia grabbed the dagger and held him down, raising her arm to kill, but she hesitated.

She looked at the woman next to her and saw her torn clothes, her bruises, and her marred face. When their eyes met, Al saw the pain she held in them. She lowered the dagger.

“Don’t have the guts to do it, girl?” the man scoffed “Didn’t think so.”

Alethia did not answer him, instead she flipped the dagger and handed it to the woman. When she took it hesitantly, Alethia squeezed her hand, hoping to encourage her.

The man’s eyes widened with fear.

“Please, I don’t want- “he began, but the dagger in his heart cut him off.

 

time skip
“How many did we lose?” Alethia asked

“Only Locke and Red.”

“Locke wasn’t a loss. He tried to make off on his own. Burn the traitors, we take Red back to Castle Black and burn him there.”

“What about them?” the Ironman asked, pointing at the wives

Alethia turned to face them. The woman who had saved her life still had the dagger grasped tightly in her hands. Behind them, their home was burning. They had nowhere to go.

“Gilly is at Castle Black. There is an old encampment a mile south of Castle Black. You can settle down there. Make yourselves useful. You know why Craster wanted no sons. They are coming and when they do, we need as many fighters as possible. I will teach you all healing skills if you wish. You are no warriors, but you are survivors and I respect that. But I will not make the choice for you.” She looked at the Wall, looming in the distance.

The women were silent, contemplating her words and her meaning.

“I will go with you.” One of them said. She put the bloody dagger in her belt.

“What is your name?”

“Gella.”

“I will go with you.” Another called out, and then another and another. Soon all of them had agreed to follow her. Only one remained.

“What about you?” Al asked

“I am Greren. I was his first wife. I am too old, I will stay. These women are all my daughters and I wish them good luck.”

“You must say your goodbyes now then.” Al said

 

 

time skip
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” the Ironman asked

“What is your name?” Alethia asked him

“Thoval.”

“I, in fact, don’t think it is a stroke of genius, but it is our only option, if we want to do the right thing.”

“The brothers will never agree.”

“Well, we aren’t exactly asking, are we?”

“No.”

“They will warn us about dangers in the south.”

“Fine.”

“Take my horse.” Al told him “I’m walking with them, gotta prepare them somehow.”

Alethia walked to the back of the caravan, were the fourteen women that had decided to come were.

“Gella.” She called

Gella was neither the oldest, nor did she have any other special qualities, but she had been the first to agree to come with Alethia and so, they had made her the leader of their ragged band.

“Yes?”

“You and yours won’t be able to stay there forever. You will come further south soon alright?”

She nodded. The other were chatting away, happier than Alethia had seen them before.

“Gilly probably won’t be able to stay with you. Don’t tell anyone any of our plans and make the best of your situation.”

Gella’s mouth became a thin line. “I have the other dagger.”

“Good. I will teach you how to fight.”

“You are our leader now. We trust you to protect us.”

Alethia watched as Gella went back to her sisters. She had another group of people she had to protect now. And she was not sure if she would be able to do it.

Notes:

Not sure if this is good or too boring... but it is the longest chapter yet (I think lol)

Chapter 25: Fire and Ice

Summary:

Settling in Craster's Wives, training recruits, talking to Maester Aemon

Notes:

TW: canon-typical stuff, assault
The Main tower is where the infirmary, rookery, the Lord Commander’s office and Alethia’s chamber is.

The harsh wind tugged at Alethia’s clothes as she rode back from the small farm where she had settled in Gella and her sisters. Unsurety plagued her as she thought about her decision of leaving them there alone. The Night’s Watch knew roughly where they were but what concerned Alethia more was the looming threat of raiding wildlings.

Gella had assured her though, that they would not harm their own kind. Still, Alethia had insisted on them keeping the old, iron-tipped spears and showed them a few defensive moves before she left, leaving them to wonder over the windmill in their new backyard.

Now, the only problem was making sure that the Night’s Watch would not turn them out. Alethia had pretty much ignored Ser Alliser’s questions upon her arrival and had soon after left again to bring Craster’s Wives to the Gift.

The southern gate creaked and Alethia could hear the faint commands being yelled as she returned to her home. She jumped of her horse and gave the reins to a stablehand. Quickly, Alethia hastened across the courtyard, where Ser Alliser was training the recruits, to pull him aside and talk out the Wives. From the glances he was giving her, Alethia could tell he was not happy.

When someone tapped her on the shoulder impatiently, Alethia’s hand was on the pommel of her sword, ready to draw when needed.

“Same side.” Pyp exclaimed, throwing his hands up in mock defeat.

“Hey Pyp, I was just on my way to Ser Alliser, I need to explain the whole situation with the Wives.”

“Well, Maester Aemon handled it. Alliser is not happy, but Aemon convinced him that we need something between them and the South.” Pyp explained patiently.

“Oh. Okay, thank you Pyp. I guess I’ll still apologize. The council meetings will be a living hell otherwise.”

“Yeah. Well, Grenn and I were thinking that we should eat dinner tonight. Ya know, like in the good old times. I’m sure that, as first ranger, ya could get us
some wine that doesn’t taste like piss. Maybe if Maester Aemon entertains Gilly, Sam will join us too.”

“Hopefully, I can’t remember the last time we had a conversation that lasted longer than two minutes and wasn’t work-related.” Alethia said, only half-joking.

She looked over to Ser Alliser, nervously patting the snow off her sleeves with her gloves. Pyp gave her a reassuring pat on the back and nodded to the Wall, where Grenn was instructing recruits as well.

Grenn saw Alethia and saluted her like she had described to him and the others before.

“See? You’ll be impossible to kill, you’ve got a builder and a mummer protecting you.” Pyp whispered.

“Thank the Gods.” Alethia’s mouth stretched into a smile and she forced herself to shake off her anxiety.

 

 

“I’ll take it you’ve come to give me an apology that isn’t particularly heartfelt?” Alliser sneered, obviously annoyed at the recruits.

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll stop you right there. I don’t agree with that shit. But I understand your reasons. As long as they don’t stop you from doing your job, I don’t care.”

“Want me to take over?” Alethia asked, nodding at the recruits trying their luck with swords, “you look like they’re gonna bring you into an early grave.”

“That so?” Alliser asked. His usual sneer was replaced with a rather neutral expression, which Alethia interpreted as a positive reaction.

“Yeah.” Alethia repeated.

“Well, then go right ahead and try your luck with these talentless, miserable excuses of green boys,” Alliser said and turned to his recruits, “Attention, you useless swordfood, Lady Stahl will be taking over your sparring lessons for the remainder of the day. She’s first ranger, so you better pay her some respect.”

 

 

As soon as Ser Alliser was out of earshot, one of the recruits sneered at Al, and she mentally prepared herself for yet another questioning of her authority.

“So. Tha’ old man can’t even teach us some swordfightin’ and gives us some useless wench? Are we supposed ta learn how ta fight like girls?” he pointed at her rudely.

Before Alethia could open her mouth, Donal Noye, the old smith calmly put the boy back into his place.

“If only half the men of the Watch fought as good as Lady Black here, we would be rich sellswords in the Free Cities. I suggest that you learn how to fight like a girl very quickly, boy.”

Said boy just opened and closed his mouth a few times. Finally, Al was sick of him.

“Even though you’re from fucking Flea Bottom, you’re not a frog, close your goddamn mouth. Anyone else?” she challenged.

“Good, I’ll take the silence as a no.”

 

 

The rest of the day was relatively successful, but the recruits were much slower learners than Craster’s Wives, which meant that they made absolute minimal progress.

By the end of the training session, Alethia was constantly pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance, but at least some of them managed to land some
hits now.

“That’s it for today, y’all can go and practice some proper hygiene before eating dinner.” Alethia said, while gathering up some of the training supplies and carefully stacking them away in the smithy, knowing that they would be needed very soon.

They all left more or less happy with the sparring, hopefully to take some kind of bath. That meant Alethia could putter around in the smithy in peace for about five minutes, before changing for dinner, and eventually, the council meeting.

“Prove it.” The boy was standing in the doorway, gleefully smiling as he held a blunt sparring sword in his hands. With a wrong grip.

“I have nothing to prove to you.” Alethia stated, walking past him. She had to admit, hearing the boy run after her, feet crunching in the snow, was giving her an extremely powerful and satisfying feeling.

She considered walking over that one slippery spot in the courtyard which was called ‘the downfall of recruits’ in a childish manner but decided that she’d rather not patch him up.

Instead, Alethia carried on, one hand on her sword, the other on her dagger.

Eventually, the boy let of and went into the tower where most of the men slept and lived.

 

 

The worn stairs of the main tower were smoother than the snow underfoot, and Alethia grabbed the railing as she hauled the bucket with fresh meat to the rookery.

“Here, I’ll take it.” Alethia turned around to see Gilly behind her, still clothed in the rags that she had worn when fleeing from the keep.

“Thank you. You should visit me some time, I still have some old dresses that could fit you and are not black. Those rags must be very cold.”

“Oh. Yes, that’d be nice.” Gilly’s speech sounded more refined than the last time they had met (which had been barely a week ago) so Alethia assumed that Sam had tried to make her blend in more. It was not working that well, considering that almost all men of the Watch were lowborns from around Westeros or even the Free Cities.

“I take it I’ll be seeing you at dinner?” Alethia asked.

“No, Aemon wants to spend some time with Little Sam.”

“Alright, good night then.”

 

 

Alethia walked to her chamber and past the room where she knew Maester Aemon was sitting. But then, she turned around and walked straight into the chamber. She had to face him anyways, better sooner than later.

“Little Flower.” He greeted her.

“Maester Aemon.”

“Why did you come to visit me tonight?” he asked, carefully, obviously trying to keep her there.

“To make amends. And return something that doesn’t belong to me.”

“No amends need to be made from either side. We both spoke rashly, and so, we are even.”

“Still, I wish to be friends with you.”

“I take it you want to return the dagger.” Maester Aemon stated quietly.

“Yes.” Alethia replied, laying the dagger in his lap so carefully that she was sure it basically hovered there. She took a step back and waited.

Slowly, Maester Aemon picked it up.

“Dragonbone and Dragonglass. A weapon truly worthy of a Targaryen.”

He twirled it in his hands, not skillfully but still in a way that was fascinating to Alethia.

“But there is only one Targaryen left.”

“There are two.” Alethia corrected.

“I am no Targaryen. Only Aemon, a man of the Watch. And the girl, Daenerys, she is a year younger than you. Yet she rules Slaver’s Bay. But she is not a warrior, my great-niece is a diplomat, a queen. You know what happens, don’t you?” he asked Alethia.

“Yes, she will conquer Westeros. With her dragons, and then, Westeros will be bathed in fire and blood again.”

“It already is. Westeros does not need another conqueror. Daenerys will not be happy here. She is young and naïve, and she believes that she is destined to rule, but she does not belong here. When she comes, make sure that she helps you in the fight against the Walkers, but more importantly, make sure that she will not die betrayed and forgotten. I could not bear it.”

“I’ll do my best.” Alethia knew she could not promise him anything and so did he. In this world, it sometimes seemed to Alethia like they were the only two that saw things as they were. Not better or worse and not from a point of view that other groups of people could not understand but simply in a realistic way.
Aemon flipped the dagger, so the handle faced Alethia.

“This is a weapon worthy of a Targaryen but the Targaryens are a lost cause.” He smiled and Alethia saw a tear in the corner of his blind eyes.

“But you are not. This is a weapon worthy of you, Alethia.” He returned it to her, and some part of her wanted to protest, but then Alethia paused.
Somewhere inside of her, a sense of pride bloomed and Alethia took the dagger in her hands.

Sure, the future was dangerous, and unpredictable and it would rip her heart out. But for maybe the first time in her entire life, people believed in her. People that owed her no allegiance, that had no reason to even like her. Yet, they did.

They did not know what was coming but Alethia did, and she would protect her home from it. She would not stand by as a torn Westeros was consumed by either ice or fire.

Notes:

Okay so I have this hc that Pyp is actually super-gay and would definetly do drag in a modern world (he was in a mummer's troupe after all)

Chapter 26: Opium addiction and other good shit

Summary:

Alethia and Gilly have some girls time and Jon finally makes a reappearance (let's hope that he had some serious character development)

Notes:

YAY SURPRISE UPDATE! I literally wrote this in french instead of preparing for oral exams so you better be proud of me.
TW: gore

Alethia and Gilly sat huddled together over the fire, gossiping about the tiniest rumors they had heard about – which really was not much. Still, working on a dress while talking to Gilly was the closest thing Al was going to get to girl time at Castle Black.

 

And Alethia had quite a few dresses to work on. She planned on leaving when Jon was killed and then resurrected, or if he did not, a few weeks after he would become Lord Commander. Because of that, she had decided to work on a few dresses that would allow her to pass as a noblewoman or the daughter of a rich merchant.

 

Luckily, she had amazing materials to work with, even though black was a mourning color, Alethia was sure it would fit in one of her future schemes perfectly. And she wanted to wear something nice for the funeral at Castle Black.

 

The dress she was currently working on was fairly simple – black, a cut-out for the cleavage (which would be cold as hell but who cares) and gold pearl embroidery at the neck, which was seriously testing her patience.

 

“Do ya want me to make some fur linings for tha’?” Gilly asked into the quiet. Even though Sam tried to make her sound proper, her accent would always slip through when she was talking to Al.

 

“Perhaps you should make something to wear for yourself first. The winter is gonna be really cold, and your current clothes aren’t warm enough.”

 

“I don’t think I’ll be here for very long no more.” Gilly stated quietly.

 

“You think?” Alethia looked up from her work and studied Gilly’s face. Her eyebrows were knitted together, and she was picking at her lip, all while rocking Little Sam.

 

“Mhm. I- I don’t know, I guess my heart is telling me tha’ I’ll see something new very soon.”

 

“Maybe. But I guess- “Alethia began, but she was interrupted.

 

“AL HURRY, JON IS BACK!” Pyp shouted, bursting into the room, soon being followed by an ash-gray Sam, who was just babbling nonsense.

 

Alethia put down her project and walked to the door.

 

“Gilly, take care of Sam, he doesn’t seem to be holding up very well.” Alethia yelled, already on her way out.

 

Together with Pyp, she rushed down the smooth stairs as quickly as she could without slipping.

 

“Tell me what happened, then you can go to get the infirmary ready.” She told Pyp.

 

“He came riding in, basically fell off his horse- “Pyp replied, slightly out of breath.

 

“How many arrows?” Alethia interrupted.

 

“Wha- Two or three.” Pyp replied.

 

“Thanks. Get the infirmary ready, please.” Al said, but Pyp was on his way by then.

 

 

 

When she entered the courtyard, Alethia looked at the scene unfolding around her. It was ridiculous, really.

 

Somehow, a few chickens had escaped their coop and were now running around in the chaotic courtyard, being an ironic metaphor for the men in the yard. A few recruits had formed a crowd around Jon, while others were placing bets on his demise.

 

All the while, Donal Noye and Ser Alliser were running around the courtyard, trying to keep order. Alethia was sure that the vein in Thorne’s forehead would pop any second now.

 

Alethia decidedly shoved the recruits out of the way and stared at Jon, who was barely conscious. When she saw him, she threw all of her plans out of the window and began yelling.

 

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME JON SNOW? YOU GET YOURSELF SHOT BECAUSE YOU ARE A ROCK WHEN IT COMES TO EMPATHY AND THEN YOU BREAK OFF THE ENDS OF THE ARROWS. AND THEN YOU WANT ME TO GET THOSE OUT? PLEASE ENLIGHTEN ME ON HOW!”

 

She crossed her arms, half expecting a response but when Jon weakly raised his hand (probably to give her the finger) he passed out.

 

“You!” Alethia pointed at a recruit indignantly, “Give me a goddamn hand and help me carry him. And stop cowering away!” she yelled the last part. She almost felt sorry, taking her stress out on him like that, but then again, why the incompetence?

 

When he still did not move, Al grabbed Jon by the ankles (I want some fanart about this scenario) and started dragging him.

 

“Can I get some goddamn help here?” she asked the recruit again, “What are you? The peak of idiocy?” she dropped Jon’s ankles again.

 

“Oh wait, that’s you. I guess idiot recruit only comes second then.” Finally, the recruit moved his ass on his own accords and walked over to pick up Jon. Soon, Alethia was joined by Grenn too and they brought Jon into the infirmary.

 

“Put him up on that table.” Alethia pointed to a table that was currently occupied by a bunch of Old Valyrian scrolls that had been about as helpful as her crippling anxiety and threw them off the table.

 

When she was done, she began treating Jon’s arrow wounds, her hands trembling, well because she had no idea what she was doing. Al had read all the books AND listened to Aemon talk her ear off but arrows sticking out of Jon was wayyy different.

 

“This is really out of pocket Jon, even for you.” She muttered under her breath.

 

“Huh?” as luck would have it, it was not Jon, but the useless recruit still standing in the room.

 

“Thank you for your help. You can go now.” Alethia said, not turning away from that disgusting, unwashed thigh. Jon needed a bath. A long one.

 

When the recruit was still standing there like a lonely pickle in a jar, Alethia waved with a now bloody hand, hoping he would leave. Luckily, Grenn returned to save her yet again.

 

 

 

A few hours later, and Jon was in the only clean bed, still passed out. Alethia was sitting next to him, cleaning the blood from under her nails.

 

“You know, I didn’t mean everything I said.” Alethia muttered.

 

“Yeah, you did.” Alethia looked up and saw Jon smiling back at her weakly.

 

“How long was I out?”

 

“You woke up just in time for dinner.”

 

Jon tried to get up but groaned in pain. Alethia pushed him back onto the bed firmly.

 

“In bed.” She got up and took milk of the poppy from the shelf. Even though she was hesitant to use an opium as a painkiller, there were not many other options, so she went with it.

 

“So, what did I miss?” Jon asked.

 

“A lot. For a start, I’m First Ranger.”

 

“And I’m still a steward.” Jon sighed.

 

“I’d hope so. You are the peak of idiocy after all.” Alethia smiled.

 

“I thought that was reserved for Grenn?” Pyp joked in the doorway.

 

“Didn’t she just say STEWARDS?” Grenn pointed out, all while Sam was shaking his head in despair.

 

“What’s this? A family reunion?” Alethia joked again.

 

“I’d fucking hope so.” Sam replied.

 

Everyone in the infirmary stared at him in disbelieve. He had just dropped his first f-bomb! And by the look on his face, Sam had done it on purpose.

 

As the room was flooded with laughter, Alethia knew that she had not been joking, not really. Her family was right here. And when Jon’s hand found hers, holding it in comfort, she was sure that maybe, just maybe, the future would not be all that bad.

Notes:

Btw, this fluff is only in preparation for the super-super angst that is going to destroy me, you and Alethia

Chapter 27: We're in the real game now

Summary:

Jon's trial, Alethia deals (jk she just thinks abt it) with what happened beyond the Wall

Notes:

TW: none?!

The feeling of familiarity and home did not last long. As soon as Jon was deemed capable of standing again, he was back to his duties. As a steward that was now actually a steward, he had been assigned to assist all councilmembers, which included Alethia. She was not sure if she should find it hilarious or embarrassing.

 

But soon enough, Alethia was glad for her position. Pyp, who somehow knew every secret and every bit of gossip in Castle Black told her that Ser Alliser and a few others had the notion to make Jon face trial for what they said was deserting.

 

And so, it was once again in Alethia’s hands to do something about the shit Jon had got himself into. She still had about an hour before she had to begin getting ready. She wanted to tidy the infirmary and get it ready for the post-battle work that would await her, but as she began cleaning, she simply was so bored that she had to stop.

 

Instead, Alethia sat down on the windowsill. She looked out of the miraculously clean and not broken window into the courtyard. Ser Alliser was drilling them, looking so exasperated, that Al wanted to go out and help him again, but she had just taken a real, warm bath, and her hair was still drying. She did not want to go out there right now.

 

So, she remained sitting where she was, and kept looking. There was the Wall, of course. Big and white and entirely to bright it stood there majestically, shielding her from the dead that were walking. When she looked east, it stretched into nothingness. Jon had come from the east. They would attack from the east as well. She would ask Grenn to somehow convince the First Builder to strengthen the gate there.

 

West was Seawatch. The men from there were supposed to arrive two days ago. Alethia was sure they would come today, but hopefully only after Jon’s trial. Alethia liked to imagine that she could almost make out the salt-stained towers. It was ridiculous of course, but she wanted to feel like she knew. Hardhome scared her, and she just wished that she knew what the castle looked like.

 

“What lays so heavy on your mind Flower?”

 

Alethia had forgotten that Aemon was here. Of course, he would have noticed the silence. He had told her that he despised it once, the silence. He was already blind, every time a place was quiet, he felt like he had gone deaf as well. And Castle Black was a very quiet place.

 

“The future.” Alethia answered, getting off the windowsill. She had poetically stared for long enough.

 

“Ah. Well, everyone worries about that. Until they are old.”

 

“I guess I just worry more than other people. They… They’re all so absorbed with their own lives that they don’t even plan ahead anymore.”

 

“But that’s not quite your problem?” Aemon asked.

 

Alethia desperately wanted to tell him. Could she? Maybe when he was closer to death, not now. He probably knew anyways.

 

“Gilly.” Alethia lied, “They respect me because they have to. But she’s helpless.”

 

She remembered how she had to patch up Sam just this morning because of the brutes that had attacked her. He was back in his room now (and Alethia hated the fact that she knew he was losing his virginity right now).

 

“Sam will try to send her to mole town.” Aemon guessed.

“Yes.”

 

“What do you think we should do?” Aemon asked her.

 

“I think we should send Sam south, let him become a Maester and tell the people there about the Others. He could take Gilly with him.” Alethia said. The move was well calculated, and it would work. At least one of her friends would be safe.

 

“I will be at the council as well, defending Jon right with you. I will suggest it.” Aemon promised.

 

 

They were the last to come. Alethia had dressed up in her best dress and Aemon was a matter on its own and so, it had taken them forever to get there. But they were in no means late.

 

Alethia smoothed out her skirt. It had an intricate pattern embroidered on it, iridescent threads that made beautiful vines. They shimmered when the sun reflected from the wall. Alethia had finished the dress before she had gone beyond the Wall.

 

While the skirt was made from an old septon’s robe, the bodice was more practical. Alethia had replaced her old one with something… safer. She was more suspicious than she had been before. The normal stay was strengthened with leather padding on the outside. Everyone knew that. What no one knew was that each panel contained a panel of sharpened metal.

 

Not exactly daggers, but close enough. And she had eight of them. Just in case of course.

 

Alliser began to explain the matter that had been lain in front of them, that of Jon Snow, who was standing straight in the middle of the dining hall.

 

Alethia stared at him, but he never met her eyes. He had changed in the time Alethia had left. He was more calculating, colder. He had told her that he had tried to imitate her survival tactics after she had left.

 

She was glad that it had been of help. But she did not want to be like that. She wanted to be normal.

 

Aside from his change of demeanor, Jon looked older too. Her entire family did. The beginning of winter had had a toll on them, but she and Jon were the worst. He did not have the scar, that was hers, but he looked more mature (hotter? Al was confused).

 

Maybe Alethia would not have noticed the changes if she had not been out there. But in the week that Jon was healing, Alethia was there with him. And she had been the one to wake him from the nightmares.

 

Unlike her, he slept every night. Alethia was glad that Jon was back, it meant she had a reason to stay up. Before he came back, she had to avoid every pair of eyes that would question her in the morning. She was glad that Alliser had not found out.

 

Whenever she could, Alethia walked on top of the Wall, looking North. She knew what was waiting in the darkness of the forest. The screams still haunted her. But what was even worse were the eyes. Those blue eyes that followed her wherever she went.

 

Alethia had one mirror and she was glad that it was not perfectly clear, but the bronze color it was. She picked it up when she felt the need for vanity, and her reflection scared her. The Nightmare staring back, that could not be her. At least, that is what she tried to tell herself. No one had pointed out the rings under her eyes yet.

 

Even through the shit medieval mirror she could see them. Sometimes, when the snow was melting on the Wall, it would turn into a huge mirror and Alethia would stare into the bloodshot eyes that were her own.

 

Between training Craster’s Wives (which was going great, thankfully), the infirmary and all her other duties, the nights were hauntingly quiet and dark. Just thinking about it made her hands tremble. Alethia had always thought that being afraid of the dark was stupid, but she knew better now.

 

Just as she was about to lose herself to her troubles, Alliser finally spoke up.

 

“We will decide by vote. Lady Stahl, would you like to make a statement.”

 

“Yes.” Alethia stared at Jon, and this time, he met her eyes. She was going to lie for him again. He knew she would.

 

“Everything Jon did beyond the Wall, he did for the Watch. I was there too, for some time. He had no choice. He hated the wildling woman, he told me every chance he got. And he did not father a son. I know because she drank moon tea every night. She did not want to conceive before the battle. Which is what we should be worrying about.

They are coming. And only two people here know how many, and what their plan may be. And if you kill Jon, not one word will leave my lips.” Alethia finished.

 

Ser Alliser looked impressed. Slynt, who had somehow made it onto the council sneered.

 

“Are you threatening us because of your own selfish cause?” Ser Alliser asked her.

 

“Yes.” Alethia responded.

 

“I thought better of you.”

 

“He is my friend. I have to.”

 

“You owe allegiance to the Watch.” He told her. Alethia gave him a sad smile. Alliser bowed his head, telling her that he remembered too.

 

“Very well then. You go free.” Noye said happily.

 

“The men from Seawatch just arrived.” Ser Alliser said, all the ice in his voice returning. We all have a part to play, Alethia thought. She hoped.

 

“You are dismissed, Lady Black. We will prepare the Castle for battle, but you won’t be making the plans anymore.” Alethia knew that, with dismissed, Thorne also meant dismissed from her position as First Ranger.

 

Alethia bowed her head in turn. She had just lost one of her most important allies. She wanted to feel sad, she had begun to like the bitter knight, but it was a casualty she could not afford. Not anymore. Alethia knew that the game had begun a long time ago. But she was a player now.

Notes:

It's getting more intense and I'm excited

Chapter 28: A lot of philosophical choices

Summary:

Jon and Alethia spar, they have another meeting with Ser Alliser and Gilly returns from Mole's Town

Notes:

TW: cliché fanfic shit

With the burden of being First Ranger gone, Alethia had had enough time to visit Craster’s Wives at the little farm outside of Castle Black.

 

They had improved so quickly that Alethia suspected these were not the women’s first lessons. When asking one of them, Gerra, she admitted that they had practiced in secret when Craster was not watching. They wanted to be able to defend their home from the things that took their sons.

 

“Wildlings will attack soon. You should leave this place.” Alethia had told Gerra.

 

“We ain’t leavin’ again. We will make sure that they know we are wildlings too, they won’t attack us.”

 

Alethia had tried to convince them otherwise, but they had already made up their minds. With a heavy heart, Alethia rode back to Castle Black.

 

Jon was drilling the recruits in the courtyard as she approached. That was when she noticed the little boy among the grown men.

 

“His name is Olly.” Jon said with a proud smile.

 

Alethia understood, he saw himself in the young boy, but she could not help the hatred in her veins. She desperately wanted to save the boy from committing mutiny, but at the same time, his bloated face at the gallows was telling her to let him hang.

 

“How long has he been here?”

 

“For ‘bout a month now. He’s a good shot with the bow.”

 

“I know.”

 

“His parents got killed by wildlings. His entire village slaughtered. He wants revenge.”

 

“Will you help him get it?” Alethia asked.

 

“Yes.” Jon said firmly.

 

“Even if it means killing Ygritte or Tormund?”

 

Her question was met with silence.

 

One of the recruits stumbled again and lost his footing. When the others laughed, Jon interrupted them.

 

“Stop it! None of you have good footing or are particularly skilled.”

 

“But you and the woman are?” one of the recruits asked.

 

Word of Alethia’s lost position had made its rounds in the castle and even though they had all known it had been a temporary one, they decided to treat her with more disrespect anyways.

 

“It looks like you have the basics of sparring down. Would you like us to show you how it’s done?” Alethia asked him sharply.

 

She pulled Lucifer from its sheath and gave it an experimental swing. Jon looked surprised; he had seen her wear the sword but never take it out. He recovered though and pulled his own sword.

 

Jon swung at her in his signature style. It was a very northern way to fight, strong swings and hacks. But Alethia had learned the style of a desperate survivor. Not a pretty style, but a lethal one.

 

Alethia sidestepped and swung at Jon’s back. A mean move and typical for a wildling. Jon saw it coming and blocked it.

 

“Are you going to fight me or not, Lord Snow?” Alethia mocked. It got her what she wanted: an intense fight.

 

Jon came at her with more swings and Alethia fell backwards with the flurry of blows until a heavy hit came directly for her cheek. She blocked it and pushed Longclaw in his direction.

 

The swords made them move together. Now, Jon’s face was suddenly close to Alethia’s. Her eyes flickered to his lips for a split second.

 

They were chapped. Alethia had seen him chew on them. It was a distraction, she knew that. She did the same to her nails.

 

Her eyes focused back to his again. He smirked at her and pushed her off.

 

Blood was rushing in her ears as she and Jon danced around each other, attacking and parrying. Alethia felt her arm get heavy. Hoping for luck, she threw
the sword in her other hand and hit Jon on the thigh.

 

He grunted in pain and let his guard down for just a second. Enough for Alethia to kick out his legs from under him.

 

She pointed Lucifer at his throat and put a knee on his chest.

 

“Yield.”

 

“I yield.”

 

From somewhere across the courtyard, Sam clapped.

 

Al pulled Jon up.

 

“You’ve gotten better.” He complimented.

 

“So have you.”

 

“Now, it IS wonderful that you two make such a murderous duo, but Ser Alliser wants to speak to the both of you, and if you don’t go, I will have to face a very murderous Thorne.” Pyp interrupted.

 

“Training’s over! Go to your assigned stations.” Jon told the recruits.

 

 

Pyp had told Jon and Alethia that Alliser was holed up somewhere in the Silent Tower, where his office and chambers were.

 

While they were climbing the stairs, Alethia glanced at Jon. She knew why she had been so jealous of Ygritte now. A voice in her head scoffed. Looks like you are still nothing more than a teenager. It told her.

 

That is what I am supposed to be. Alethia told the voice. Nothing more.

 

Unbeknownst to her, Jon was glancing back. He loved Ygritte, he told himself.

 

Jon’s POV:

He felt stupid. He should not fall in love, not with Alethia. The only remainder of Winterfell, the girl that had grown up, become an adult, with him. But he also felt stupid when he thought about how he had fallen for Ygritte, when Al had been right there.

 

They were very similar in some aspects. Both were wild, untamable. Both of them wanted to be free. But unlike Ygritte, who had always been free, Al was a feral cat, trying to be an indoors cat.

 

He still loved Ygritte though. Right?

 

She had changed, of course, but unlike Ygritte, Al was always thinking ahead. He knew that Alethia had secrets, knew things that she should not know. Jon could not help but wonder what she was planning, what was going. How far her plans stretched into the future.

 

Would he be a part of these plans? Or was he just a piece in her game of cyvasse? He desperately wanted to be important to her.

 

They were both so deep in their own minds that they barely noticed when they arrived at the door of Ser Alliser’s chambers.

 

Jon knocked and Alliser opened the door almost instantly, as if he had been waiting for them.

 

He sat back at his desk and beckoned them to sit in the two vacant seats.

 

“When are the wildlings attacking?” Alliser asked. The question was directed at Alethia.

 

Jon observed her closer. From what he had seen, and from what he had heard, the two had developed a sort of friendship, or at least a mutual respect that the grizzled knight only paid Maester Aemon otherwise.

 

But he knew that Alethia had lost all of that when she vouched for him at his trial. He felt guilty, thinking about that.

 

How much had she sacrificed for him already? When would that sacrifice become too large?

 

“They could be here any day.” Alethia said.

 

“We should close the tunnel, fill it with rubble.” Jon added.

 

“And how will we send out rangers?” Thorne challenged.

 

“Giants are, quite literally, a bigger problem.” Alethia insisted.

 

Jon snorted. Her bad jokes had stayed bad then.

 

“Something funny, Lord Snow?” Thorne mocked.

 

“No ser.”

 

“We aren’t closing the tunnels. Got something more precise, Lady Black.”

 

“Sam sent Gilly to Mole’s Town. If they attack Castle Black, they will attack Mole’s Town first. I’m sure she’ll survive.”

 

“Why?”

 

“She survived Craster and the Others. She is not dumb. She’ll come running back, and then we’ll know.”

 

Thorne looked exasperated.

 

“Next you’ll tell me they have fucking Thenns.”

 

“They do but that’s not the point. Point is, they are just a distraction. Mance is going to be attacking from the other side. Which is why we have to close the tunnels.” Alethia insisted.

 

“We are not closing the damn tunnel. Dismissed.” Thorne told them. Alethia scoffed and got up to leave. Jon remained seated for a little longer and then followed her out. It was already dark outside when they met up with Pyp and Grenn at the gate.

 

 

Alethia had insisted that they put up their own guards to make sure they would be prepared. Pyp and Sam were on watch today, but Grenn was there to bring them dinner.

 

“Edd’s already complaining about this.” Grenn told them when they arrived.

 

“Well, he might stop when the wildlings attacked.” Al replied.

 

The two of them had grown close in the time Jon was gone, he noticed. It was the same with Pyp.

 

He was not sure if it was jealousy, he felt at that.

 

“Edd’s always complaining, sister.” Grenn argued and pulled Al into a bone-crushing hug.

 

“Ugh Grenn, you’re killing me.” Alethia complained, but her face was lit up by a smile.

 

The builder squeezed her hand.

 

“Everythin’ will be alright. Jus’ ‘cause ya ain’t on the council no more, doesn’t mean ya can’t help protect the Castle.” He reassured her.

 

“Yeah, besides, we’re all here to become deprived of sleep just for you.” Pyp added.

 

Al rolled her eyes.

 

“But Edd’s the one who’s always complaining, huh?”

 

Jon felt like an idiot, standing off to the side.

 

“Come on Snow, you don’t have to brood just yet!” Alethia told him and pulled him along as she and the others made their way to the top of the gate.

 

Grenn gave Alethia a bowl of stew and she sat down, letting her legs dangle off the edge. Soon enough, they were all sitting on top of the gate, staring into the darkness together.

 

Jon had barely eaten to bites of the only constant in his life (the dreadful, never-changing stew), when a figure approached from the darkness.

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He heard Al mutter under his breath.

 

They all got up and stared at the figure.

 

“Gilly? I told you to stay at Mole’s Town!” Sam yelled.

 

“Wildlings! Let me in!” she yelled instead.

 

Jon, like Grenn, Pyp and Sam, was confused. What did that have to do with anything?

 

“Open the gate!” Al yelled at Fletcher, who was manning the gate.

 

“Ser Alliser said to keep it shut.”

 

“Does it look like I give a flying fuck? That is not a hostile wilding! Open the goddamn gate before I do it and embarrass myself.” Alethia yelled back.

 

Gilly rushed in and while all the men still stood confused, Jon watched as Alethia ran to embrace her. She pulled a key out of her cloak.

 

So she had planned for this as well.

 

“Hide in the pantry and lock yourself in. Don’t come out until Sam gets you!” Alethia told her and the girl stumbled off into the darkness again.

 

“Grenn! The wildlings attacked Mole’s Town. They’ll be here soon enough. Sound the horn, I’ll prepare the others.”

 

Jon watched as Alethia ran across the courtyard and was swallowed by the darkness. She was going to Alliser, he knew that. And she trusted him to take care of things here, he knew that as well.

 

Jon stood a little straighter as he began instructing those in the courtyard. He would have to make his choice tonight.

 

Ygritte or Alethia?

Notes:

I'm so scared of writing the next chapter

Chapter 29: Among the fallen

Summary:

The wildlings attack

Notes:

TW: blood, gore, violence, mentions of suicide, character death

As the horn was sounded for the arrival of wildlings on the other side of the Wall and Alethia rushed to alert Ser Alliser and the other men, dread filled her at the deaths that might happen. Not only Pyp and Grenn, but also Ygritte.

 

She was sure she would be able to protect Pyp and Grenn if she stayed with them, but Ygritte would die if Olly had the guts to shoot her. Alethia had no clue where the boy was, and so, she knew he would be somewhere around Castle Black, preparing himself to get revenge.

 

And he was a good shot.

 

She closed the last door in the King’s Tower to ensure that no wildlings would infiltrate the buildings as the first burning arrow landed in the courtyard. Right next to Grenn.

 

“Get away from there and on the Wall Grenn! They need some builders.” Al yelled while rushing up to the gate to get Pyp and Sam to safety.

 

“Lady Black!” Alethia whipped around.

 

Ser Alliser stood in the courtyard, ushering men into the lift and to the top of the Wall.

 

“What?”

 

“I want you manning the Wall. They need actually good archers against that army.”

 

“I’ll go with the next lift.” Alethia promised and ducked as she climbed the stairs to the ramparts overlooking the gates. If you could call that ramparts.

 

Pyp and Sam were frozen at the sight of the Thenns that were waving the arms of Kegs, Mully and Black Jack at them, but Alethia only had eyes for what they were about to do.

 

Both were still holding loaded crossbows and Alethia grabbed Pyp’s and aimed for Styr, the leader of the Thenns, who would later almost kill Jon.

 

He saw her, saw that she was a woman, but he did not recognize her. His brief moment of hesitation made him stand still for a second though and Alethia released the crossbow with a twang.

 

She would have hit him if it were not for another Thenn throwing himself in front of his leader.

 

Sam and Pyp were still standing frozen and Alethia pulled them down just in time as Ygritte loaded her bow.

 

The three of them sat side by side as Alethia basically ripped the crossbow from Sam’s hands. Pyp just stared at the arrow embedded in the wooden post.

 

“You got the key?” she asked him, referring to the key for the library.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good. You two make for the library, I will shoot this one and you can take the other one. I am sure you’ll find a second crossbow somewhere here. And stay down!”

 

She pushed them away from her, hoping that they would make it to safety before the wildlings got in.

 

“Alethia get into the lift!” Thorne commanded.

 

She ignored him and took aim between two loose planks. Alethia shot the crossbow and missed Styr again.

 

Quickly, she made for the lift as the first wildling made it over the gate. They had already begun closing the door for the lift as Alethia grabbed one of the wooden planks lying on the ground and held it behind her as a shield.

 

The door was still open and Alethia saw Grenn reaching for her hand as it began to ascend.

 

“LYING WITCH!” Tormund yelled and the first arrow landed in her makeshift shield. She kept running.

 

Alethia knew the lift was going to be out of reach, but Grenn kept holding his hand out to her.

 

As a second arrow landed in the plank, she let it go and reached for Grenn’s hand.

 

Somehow, he caught her.

 

Alethia stared at Grenn with wide eyes, still sitting on the floor of the lift.

 

“You saved me!” she gasped out.

 

“Figured it was my turn.” Grenn shrugged as he pulled her into his arms.

 

The lift was out of reach of Ygritte’s arrows now, and Grenn let go of her. He put an arm around her shoulder, and they stared at the beginning inferno of their home.

 

Both were more than just slightly rattled as they made it to the top. They went to their positions silently.

 

“Alethia, Grenn, where are Sam and Pyp?” Jon yelled at them from his post.

 

“Sent them to the library.” Alethia whispered, staring down the abyss. All she could think about was the attack of the wights on their camp with Qhorin.

 

This was the exact same. But she could not jump, or she would be dead.

 

“The hell did she say?” Jon yelled at Grenn.

 

“Think it was sum’ bout the library.”

 

Jon nodded.

 

Alethia heard heavy footsteps approach and saw Grenn straighten up a little out of the corner of her eye.

 

“Lady Black, quit standing around get yourself some arrows. Grenn, get to that anker, they’ve got problems releasing it, typical recruits.”

 

“Yes, ser.” They responded and Alethia sighed a breath of relief as she saw Grenn hurry away.

 

Edd was already shooting arrows to the best of his abilities and handed Alethia a bow as she approached.

 

“Thank the Gods you’re here, we’re all terrible shots.” Edd said as another shivering recruit handed her a quiver.

 

Alethia was about to laugh as she saw a stone flying from one of the wildling catapults.

 

She did not even have time to yell a warning as it crashed into the post right next to her.

 

Instead, she pulled down Edd and tried to take cover somehow.

 

“How the hell did we survive that?” she breathed as he looked up to her.

 

As she was about to reload her bow with renewed vigor, she saw one of the recruits stumble.

 

Alethia reached for him to stop his fall, but only flipped him around to face her. She glimpsed the wooden stick in his throat before he fell.

 

The arrow was already notched.

 

He was a recruit.

 

She heard Alliser yell the command to take aim despite the blood rushing through her ears.

 

He never did anything, I drilled him.

 

Alethia aimed at one of the running figures.

 

He was a hungry boy that was forced to fight for a great house.

 

She released her arrow and watched the figure fall.

 

Alethia did not know how long she had been shooting arrows and certainly did not notice her numb fingers. Some of her arrows found their target, some did not. Did it even matter in the long run?

 

She was about to reach for another arrow, but only found emptiness. Alethia was about to get another quiver as she saw it. Or more specifically, him.

 

Mag the Mighty – a fucking giant.

 

“Fucking hell.” She mumbled as she sped up to retrieve a quiver. Alethia stopped dead as she saw Grenn leave his post.

 

“We have to hold the gate!” she heard him in the distance, taking five other builders with him.

 

“Grenn!” she yelled.

 

He turned around.

 

“I’ll be right back, sister.” He promised before running to the lift.

 

Alethia shoved away recruits and men of the Watch as she desperately tried to stop him.

 

She almost got to him, but he shut the door of the lift.

 

“Stay up here.” He told her, before beginning his descent.

 

Alethia stood frozen as she watched him leave.

 

Then she remembered that Jon was up here too and tried to find him. She ran away from the lift, and to his post. Just as another stone hit one of the posts.

 

Alethia was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she did not see the post get destroyed. The impact threw her on the ground.

 

Her vision swam before her eyes, black dots already forming at the edges.

 

“God damn it, not now Alethia.” She told herself, before swaying towards the post where she could make out the mop of curls belonging to Jon.

 

“Jon.” She croaked out.

 

“Al, what- “he began taking in her face. Only when he touched her cheekbone did she feel the bruises that were beginning to form.

 

Alethia slapped his hand away.

 

“Grenn is down there on a suicide mission, we have to go.”

 

Just then, Ser Alliser and a few rangers rushed past.

 

“Snow gets command of the Wall.” He yelled before rushing for the lift.

 

“Edd gets command of the Wall!” Jon yelled in turn before following the knight.

 

Al took his hand and let him drag her to the lift.

 

Ser Alliser looked at Jon with a look of disappointment and disgust that was so passionate, Al was sure he would burn a hole into his forehead.

 

“The one time I put my trust in you, boy- “ he began.

 

“We don’t have time for this now.” Alethia interrupted.

 

“I’d slap you for interrupting me if your cheek weren’t already bruised up, girl. You are in no condition to fight. Go to cover when we get down there.” He told Al.

 

“I will.” Alethia promised. The only thing promising about her was her ability to lie.

 

 

As soon as they made it to the bottom, wildlings attacked them and made it even easier for Alethia to sneak off in the wrong direction.

 

She kept her head down and made for the tunnel, thankful that the time in the lift had given her time to recover.

 

Suddenly, a Thenn was right in front of her.

 

Alethia was so relieved when he did not start to make any comments.

 

He already had his battleax drawn. But Al had Lucifer behind her back. He swung at her and she let him, sidestepping like it was a dance routine. He still had not seen her sword.

 

Al pretended to slash at him with it, but instead of trying to land an incredibly sloppy hit with her left, she drew her dagger and slashed his stomach open with her right. She watched his guts spill out right in front of her.

 

Somehow, he was still standing, but he had dropped his weapons and Al only had to step closer and stab him in the heart to end it.

 

As she let the man behind her die, she cursed herself for wasting time on fancy maneuvers. The next few wildlings, Al killed with ease as adrenaline rushed through her.

 

She was running straight for the tunnel now, so focused that she almost ran over Jon.

 

He had not noticed her.

 

Al felt her heart twist at the sight of a dead Ygritte in his arms.

 

With Jon out in the open and vulnerable, it was up to Al to defend him.

 

Eight wildlings were running straight in their direction. Al shrugged of her cloak and her overshirt until she could reach for the sharpened blades in her stay.

 

Throwing knives are my specialty. She had told the council that a year ago. She had not practiced since then, and her sword was a much better weapon, but she did not have a choice.

 

She pulled out the first blade and kissed it for good luck before throwing it at a wildling. She missed, hitting his knee, but it was enough to stop him.

 

In quick succession, she killed the other seven, effectively embedding metal into their bodies. Al was about to kill the limping one as an arrow found its way into his skull. Al looked up and bowed her head to thank Olly’s courtesy.

 

Al picked up the overshirt and made for the tunnel again. Two minutes in which she had had time to think up a plan. Yet she still came up emptyhanded.

 

What would she do? Pull them out of the tunnel? Jon was more important, Al told herself, he would fight in the Long Night and be King in the North. She wanted to justify saving Jon, who would potentially die anyways.

 

She could not. But that did not matter now.

 

Al rushed headfirst into the tunnel, only wanting to get to Grenn in time.

 

“Grenn!” she yelled as the giant charged at the men. He almost turned around, but the giant pulled him away from her at his foot.

 

Her world collapsed together with the tunnel.

 

She kept running until she reached him.

 

Grenn was lying on the ground, staring up at the ceiling, his lower half buried with the giant.

 

“I’ll get you out of here, fix you up.” Alethia promised as she began shoveling at the snow and ice.

 

“Al, stop.” Grenn whispered. It was only then that she properly looked at him. Even under all the layers, Al could tell that his ribs were broken. She heard sickening crunch as another rib broke under the weight of the Wall.

 

“You aren’t dying on me! I’m getting you out of here.” Alethia repeated, not letting herself cry. She would save him.

 

“Hopeless.” Grenn croaked out. Al saw the thin trickle of blood at his mouth. Internal bleeding. How would she stop internal bleeding?

 

“No.” Alethia whispered, taking Grenn into her arms, tilting him upwards. “I have to save you too!” she told him.

 

Her eyes were beginning to water and she angrily wiped the tears away, trying to ignore the stinging.

 

“I’m not letting you die, Grenn! You’re my brother, my family.”

 

He only coughed up more blood. “Please make it stop Al.” he whispered hoarsely.

 

“Don’t leave me Grenn. Please. Don’t you dare leave me!” she begged him.

 

Grenn somehow managed to reach for her dagger, which was still in her belt, but dropped his hand. It was already too much of an effort.

 

“Don’t leave me behind.” She begged him.

 

“M not leavin’ ya, sister.” He croaked. “Family- “

 

“Family gotta stick together.”

 

Al watched his eyes go blank.

 

It was over, she had failed. She felt the scream already building somewhere inside of her, but all that came out was a croak.

 

She held Grenn, there in the tunnel. The cold was seeping back into her, but it did not matter. Nothing fucking mattered.

 

Alethia had thought that she would be able to change something. She had not changed shit. Nothing had changed since she had come here. Would it really be so bad if she left now? Alethia closed Grenn’s eyes but still sat there, with his head in her lap.

 

She stared at the head of the giant barely poking out of the ice. Al never moved, only sat there, holding Grenn.

 

 

Jon’s POV

 

He let Ygritte go as the Castle quieted down around him. They could not find him here like that. Instead, Jon dragged Ygritte behind one of the wooden posts.

 

That is where he found her cloak. Jon picked it up, looking around. Where the hell was Al?

 

He spotted the wildlings, with blades in their bodies. So, she had protected him.

 

Jon went back to the spot where he had found her cloak, in hopes of somehow finding Alethia, but he only found her footprints, leading away.

 

He did not have to be an expert tracker to follow them.

 

His heart dropped as he saw them leading into the tunnel. Everyone had heard the tunnel collapse, even the wildlings had been surprised.

 

Nonetheless, Jon went inside. He had to know.

 

That was where he found her.

 

“Al?” he called out. She still had her back to him.

 

“Alethia?” he repeated, coming closer.

 

Carefully, he grabbed her shoulder. She turned around to look at him, but Jon felt like he was invisible. She was staring right through him. Jon stared back. Her lips were blue, and so was her nose. Alethia’s lip was split open and the bruising on her cheekbone and eye was turning black.

 

It was like the gods were trying to mock her. Her unhealthy tone, her scars and bloodshot eyes all paled in comparison to what Jon saw next.

 

Grenn was lying in her lap. It might have looked like he was asleep if it were not for his injuries. His upper body was completely smashed under the ice and Jon could see the purple coloring snaking up his neck and onto his face. Around him was a halo of blood.

 

Jon reached out to wipe away the tears on Alethia’s face, but they were only dried trails that had washed away grime and blood.

 

“You should get up.” He told her.

 

She was still staring through him.

 

Jon gave up and pulled her away from Grenn. He tried to carry her out of the tunnel, but she began kicking him.

 

“LET GO OF ME!” she yelled at him. When Jon ignored her, she bit him into his hand.

 

Jon dropped her and watched as she fell to the ground. He thought she was going to run back to Grenn, but she just stood there. She was lost.

 

"Couldn't even put him out of his misery." she whispered.

 

He saw her look at Grenn one last time before turning to finally face him.

 

“What do you need me to do?” she asked very quietly, still not meeting his eyes.

 

“Injured.” He managed. She nodded and pushed past him.

 

He followed her as she walked into the courtyard. Jon wondered what she was thinking about as she watched the men carry the corpses of their fallen brothers to the stake.

 

She strode towards something, and as Jon followed her, he saw Tormund, still fighting.

 

 

Alethia’s POV

 

Grenn had saved her. She had to make that count. Al glanced at the corpses of her fallen brothers, glad that neither Pyp nor Sam were among them.

 

Her eyes fell on Tormund instead. The giant man was still fighting, even with several arrows in his back. Like a dog, he was lashing out at the men surrounding him.

 

She had to save him if she wanted to change something.

 

In that moment, his eyes met hers.

 

“Bitch.” He spat at her.

 

“It’s over Tormund. You’ve lost, give up.”

 

“No.”

 

She walked toward him, and the men shrank away, glad that they did not have to deal with the man anymore.

 

Alethia stared up at him. One of the few people that towered over her.

 

“Traitor.” He repeated.

 

“You would’ve done the same.”

 

He ignored her and insulted her again.

 

“People that I cared about died right in front of me on that ranging. They made me promise that I would make their sacrifices count. And I did.”

 

“You could’ve been one of us.” He told her, still angry, but at least a little bit saner.

 

“Your people made me kill my own sworn brother. How?”

 

Tormund did not respond.

 

Alethia came closer, wanting to calm him down enough to get a better look at his injuries. The dagger was only a glimpse in her vision before he lunged at her to kill.

 

But before Tormund could reach her, he collapsed from exhaustion.

 

“You.” Alethia told a recruit. “Get him into one of the vacant rooms next to the infirmary so I can treat him. He’s a good hostage.”

 

She walked back to Jon.

 

“He would’ve killed you.”

 

“I know.”

 

Jon put an arm around her, much like Grenn had, and Alethia tried to lean into the comfort.

 

They stood like that for quite some time before they both spotted Ser Alliser speaking with the men who had Tormund. He waved them through.

 

After him, a few men were carrying more corpses.

 

Al walked toward them. She wanted to make sure these men were dead. She did not hear Jon follow her.

 

They walked past her. Alethia’s eyes fell onto one of the corpses, which was particularly gruesome. Blood and stab wounds covered his entire body, and an arrow was stuck through his throat. Al felt her knees give out when she saw the familiar face.

 

The smile was still on his face and Alethia wondered if he had told Sam a joke to comfort him before dying. Before Alethia could stop it, she sobbed.

 

Jon caught her as she was about to fall to the ground. He dragged her away from prying eyes and into the infirmary.

 

 

Jon’s POV

 

Steps shuffled in front of door.

 

“Come in.” Jon called out.

 

He had managed to sit Al into a chair, from which she had not moved. Maester Aemon was occupied with more severe injuries and Jon had dragged Al’s basically limp body into one of the smaller chambers adjoining the infirmary.

 

Sam stood in the doorway, with a bloody rag in his hands.

 

“Wanted to see Al.” he said. Even Sam was at loss for words after the battle. Not one man in Castle Black was fully coherent right now.

 

His eyes fell onto the figure in the chair which was still staring into nothing.

 

“Oh. She already knows.”

 

Jon nodded.

 

“It’s my fault.” Sam whispered. “If I hadn’t stood behind him, he wouldn’t be dead.”

 

“But then it would have been you.” Jon said.

 

“Did he suffer?” Alethia asked.

 

“No.” Sam said, voice shaking. He was a terrible liar, but Al did not seem to notice.

 

Daeron opened the door, seemingly wanting to leave already as he saw Al.

 

“They’ll burn them in a few hours.” He told them before leaving.

 

Jon watched Al leave and push past Daeron, movements mechanic like that of a doll.

 

 

Alethia’s POV

 

She went to her room and began to draw a bath. Alethia vowed to herself that she would at least give them a proper goodbye when they would be burning.

 

Jon knocked and came into her room, watching her reach into the chest with her dresses.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Getting ready for their funeral. You should say goodbye to Ygritte before.”

 

Al heard him close the door and locked it before beginning to bathe.

 

 

 

Two hours later, she was ready. There were still two more hours to go and Alethia went back into the infirmary, where most of the injured were being treated.

 

She felt guilt for not treating them, but she could not change that now.

 

As she passed her mirror, lying forgotten on one of the shelves. She picked it up to stow it away when her eyes fell onto her hair.

 

Grenn would have done much better.

 

Maybe I am among the fallen. Alethia thought. There's not much left of me anyways.

 

Alethia wanted to hurl the mirror away from her but opted to simply put it back. Instead, she went out into the courtyard to oversee the organization of the funeral.

 

That was when they rode in. She spotted Stannis first, but then let her gaze meet that of Melisandre. She only smirked.

 

Al held her gaze until the woman finally looked away.

 

Instead, she stared at Princess Shireen. The girl was looking at the castle in wonder, no care in the world and making polite conversation with Davos.

 

Alethia was going to save her. That was the change she would make.

Notes:

I cried while writing this, so it better won't flop.

Chapter 30: Part III: The Real Game

Part III: The Real Game

Chapters: 31-36

Summary: Alethia has done things she wishes she could erase from her mind. She's lost friends, killed men and lied too many times. But when King Stannis arrives, he brings Melisandre with him, and with a new political force in Castle Black, everyone's beginning to warm up for another round.

 

Cast

Kerry Ingram as Princess Shireen

Age: 10-12

'Alethia Stahl had more than her pride, she had her friends.'

 

Liam Cunningham as Davos Seaworth

Age: ???

 "You seem like a nice girl. Would be a pity to have you reduced to ashes.”

 

Ragnheiður Ragnarsdóttir as Gella

Age: 32-37

“I will go with you.”

Chapter 31: Ghosts of the Past

Summary:

shit isn't going good, wbk

Notes:

TW: hallucinations, violence, ptsd

Despite King Stannis’ arrival, the men of the Watch prepared the stake for their fallen brothers. Not even a King seemed to be able to disturb the life at Castle Black, and Alethia thought that was very comforting.

 

 

Of course, it had been delayed by a few hours, so by the time the men were gathered around the pyre, the sun was beginning to set already.

 

 

Al spotted Morgan circling in the sky, as if she were watching over the souls of her brothers. After Ser Alliser had been over his initial anger at Alethia, he had told her she would be one of the people to light the pyre.

 

 

She knew that this was his way of trying to console her.

 

 

Alethia looked up at the sky once again to make sure Morgan was still there and took the torch from Sam’s hand. He awkwardly patted her arm and looked over to Jon, who was standing to her right. He had been gone a few hours ago.

 

 

Alethia had only seen the smoke rise from the pyre, but she knew. They had all lost something that night, it would be cruel of her to ignore her friends in their grief.

 

 

She did not hear the speech that Thorne gave, but she felt the tears freeze on her cheeks. Though they were her own, it felt alien to have them rolling down her face, like they should not be there.

 

 

When it was her turn to step forward, Al wiped away the tears and lowered the torch to a piece of dry hay, watching the flames light up next to Pyp’s face, which was already beginning to bloat. She stepped back and handed Sam the torch, who carried it away and put it out in the snow.

 

 

The courtyard was silent except for the occasional crack from the fire. It seemed like even the King’s men felt the blanket of sorrow that lay over Castle Black.

 

 

Suddenly, she heard a melody. Al looked around, waiting for the singer to begin his rendition of “The Bear and the Maiden Fair”, but not one of the men had opened their mouth to sing.

 

 

Alethia tried to ignore the eerie melody that seemed to be hummed directly into her ear. She stood alone as the men left the courtyard to return to their stations. She had a few more minutes to spare before she would have to change and treat Tormund.

 

 

Her breath caught in her throat as she saw a lone figure perched upon the railing of the dining hall.

 

 

There sat Pyp, humming a song, guts spilling out and throat cut.

 

 

She clamped her hand over her mouth before she could scream. This was not real, Alethia knew it, but he looked so real, sitting there, and smirking at her.

 

 

Alethia turned and ran, away from her grief, her loss, her dead brothers. She climbed the stairs of the infirmary and rushed into her room, almost knocking Edd over.

 

 

They were dead. Alethia would have to deal with it.

 

 

 

 

“Are you sure you won’t need a guard, Lady Black?” the man asked her for what had to be the fifth time. He was one of Stannis’ men and obviously did not know about Mole’s Town.

 

 

“Look, if you don’t stop asking, I will kill you instead of the wildling.” She told him.

 

 

He was still following her, and some of the men of the Watch chuckled at the sight.

 

 

Alethia turned around to face him. “Are you lost?” she snarled at the man, who was holding a polished helmet in between them now.

 

 

“No, my lady, in fact, I am- “he began, before Alethia cut him off.

 

 

“Good. Then you will have no problem with finding either the dining hall or Mole’s Town. I am not here to entertain you. Now, you will excuse me, I have more pressing matters to attend to than,”

 

 

Alethia trailed off and looked the man up and down.

 

 

“That.” She finished. Satisfied with hopefully having obliterated the man’s ego, she turned away and made her way to Tormund’s confinement. To her great satisfaction, he left her alone.

 

 

Instead, Selyse Baratheon now stood in front of her.

 

 

“You’ll excuse me, your Grace.” She nodded curtly and attempted to leave. Alethia wondered how much of the conversation she had heard.

 

 

“That wasn’t exactly courteous.” She stated simply and nodded in the direction in which the soldier had left.

 

 

“I don’t have time for courtesies. The only court you’ll find in Castle Black is the courtyard.”

 

 

“The Watch isn’t a place for ladies.” Selyse said. She really was not talented at small talk.

 

 

“Well, I’m here because of your brother-in-law and now I need to tend to a wildling that has eight arrows in his body as well as other injuries and hates my guts.”

 

 

“Admirable, your dedication to this cause.”

 

 

“Barely.”

 

 

“And why is that?”

 

 

“Because after a battle with many injured, I decided to cry like a babe and left saving the other injured to a blind man and two stewards, one of which retches at the sight of blood.”

 

 

And with that, Alethia left the queen to stand alone in a hallway in the middle of a castle filled with rapists. She really hoped that they would know better.

 

 

Finally, Alethia reached the door that was being guarded by two men. Recruits that had sworn their vows in the sept after the funeral.

 

 

“Will you be needing a guard?” one of them asked not unkindly. He was a bastard of a highborn lord, not very different from Jon, but unlike him, the man was from the South and while he did not like Alethia, he was always courteous.

 

 

“No thank you.” Alethia replied in a similar manner.

 

 

The other guard opened the door and as soon as Al was inside, almost slammed it shut.

 

 

Her eyes fell on Tormund, who was sitting in a corner of the room, barely conscious. It was ironic. Tormund, who always boasted of the freedom the wildlings had, chained to a Wall and prisoner to the Crows.

 

 

She put down her supplies and took off her sword.

 

 

“I’d keep that on if I were you.” The big man mumbled.

 

 

Alethia smiled to herself, secretly glad that he was conscious enough to be watching her.

 

 

“So, you can pull it out of the scabbard and kill me? I like my head the way it is.”

 

 

“Bitch.” He spat out.

 

 

“How very original.” She replied and put her dagger out of his reach as well.

 

 

Carefully, she approached him, holding up a piece of bread and cheese as a peace offering. To her surprise, he let her.

 

 

She put the food down next to him, knowing that he would not take anything from her. Yet.

 

 

“They’ll come for you. And they will kill you. You and the other crow, the traitors you are.” Tormund said quietly. It was eerie, but Al knew that Jon was on his way to Mance in this moment.

 

 

After securing his chains, she got to work, cleaning his face from blood and grime.

 

 

“I’ll kill you personally.” He threatened again.

 

 

“Tha’s not very nice of ya.” A voice behind Al said, and she whipped around.

 

 

At the other end of the room was Grenn. He stood there, with his arms crossed, glaring at Tormund. But all Alethia saw was the purple creeping up his neck and the blood at the corner of his mouth.

 

 

“Go away.” Alethia muttered, turning back to Tormund.

 

 

She felt like he was still there, watching her, but ghost-Grenn kept quiet.

 

 

Alethia got a new rag and put the blood-soaked one away. Tormund was still spitting insults at her, but he had thankfully stopped moving that much.

 

 

Now came the gruesome part. Alethia began taking off the outer layers of Tormund’s furs and tried not to move the arrows too much.

 

 

She sighed at the sight before her. Some of the arrows had torn even bigger wounds into the flesh, a result of Tormund’s final fight. It was a miracle he was alive and well.

 

 

As she walked to the fire that she had started earlier, she could see the terror in Tormund’s eyes.

 

 

“Ya really got ta do tha’?” he asked her, as she sticked one of the metal poles into the fire to warm up.

 

 

“You can thank yourself; you have no regard for your own health.” She responded. Tormund raised his eyebrows in confusion.

 

 

“I’m not going to brand you like a cow.” She told him. He only raised his eyebrows higher.

 

 

“Tormund, I’m neither here to seduce you, nor am I going to torture you. I’m trying to save your life so do me a favor and don’t move while I cauterize your wounds.”

 

 

“Ya aren’t? But why?”

 

 

“You’re a valuable hostage, Mance Rayder’s second hand. Who do you think they’ll turn to when he dies?” she asked him.

 

 

“You don’t have the men.” Tormund argued.

 

 

“Well lucky for us a fucking king showed up with his army.”

 

 

Without warning, she pulled out the first arrow with a disgusting squelch. Tormund groaned put kept quiet otherwise.

 

 

Alethia repeated the process on all the arrows, as well as cauterizing them and applied an ointment, hoping that they would only leave ugly scars.

 

 

“Tha’ was a lotta screamin’.” Grenn drawled behind her.

 

 

“I told you to shut up.” She said, feeling like her eyes were made of led. It was already dark out and she had missed dinner. She wasn’t ready to be bothered by a ghost again.

 

 

“What? Family gotta- “the ghost began mocking.

 

 

“SHUT UP!” Al yelled, throwing the bowl in her hands at the shadow in the corner.

 

 

She froze as she remembered Tormund behind her. Quickly, she wiped her tears away and packed her supplies, leaving the bowl where it was.

 

 

Alethia was barely keeping it together, and she could not risk a slip-up like that outside of this room.

 

 

“I used to see ma woman.” Tormund told her suddenly.

 

 

“What?” she asked, still confused.

 

 

“She died after ma’ daughter was born. Used ta talk to her.”

 

 

“Do they ever go away?”

 

“They don’t talk to ya anymore and mine doesn't visit me either, but ya gotta make space for them in ya heart. Sorry ‘bout your brothers.” Tormund added.

 

Alethia did not answer and left the room before it could suffocate her.

 

 

 

 

Alethia was running again. She saw the Wall on her left and knew in an instant that she was on the wrong side. Why was she running?

 

 

“Al run!” she heard someone yell behind her.

 

 

“Pyp?” Alethia asked as she spun around. She wished that she had not. He was only a few steps behind her, but so was the corpse. Alethia felt its blue eyes stare into hers as it sunk its teeth into his leg and pulled her friend into the snow.

 

 

She tried to run towards him, to save him, but the snow was too deep, and she couldn’t run in it. Instead, she saw Pyp get devoured by the monster.

 

 

Alethia wanted to scream but no sound came out.

 

 

So, she turned around and ran, like the coward she was.

 

 

The corpse was not following her, and Al was about to breathe a sigh of relief as she spotted Grenn. Her brother was standing on a hill, waving to her. He did not seem to see the rocks and snow behind him.

 

 

She wanted to scream and warn him, but it felt like something was choking her. Al watched as Grenn was swallowed by the snow, never even making a sound.

 

 

Alethia just stared in horror as Others came ever closer. She could not move. Maybe it was better that way.

 

 

Al could feel the Others pulling and clawing at her legs and let them pull her under the snow. The cold filled her lungs and just as she was about to close her eyes, she spotted Jon and Sam in the distance, frantically waving for help as the Others attacked them too.

 

 

She clawed at the snow that was pulling her down into the abyss and screamed for them as her lungs were filled with the cold.

 

 

 

 

 

Jon’s POV:

 

 

Jon did not know why Aemon had called for him this late at night, but the old Maester seemingly thought him fit to escort Shireen Baratheon around the castle while Sam would attend to the King and his household.

 

 

As a Tarly of Hornhill, he had of course been more fit for the job, but the words still stung Jon as he walked out of the old Maester’s chambers and past the infirmary. He tried to distract himself, remembering that Al slept in the room next to the infirmary.

 

 

Unlike the infirmary’s door, which was slightly ajar, this door was firmly locked. Jon sighed as he spotted the extra locks Al had had Noye add to her door after the arrival of the King’s men.

 

 

He was about to continue to his own chambers when he heard muffled screaming from inside of said door. Jon paused and listened again. That was definitely shouting.

 

 

As quietly as he could, Jon made his way to the infirmary, where Sam was watching the wounded. Al probably trusted him to wake her in case someone entered her door. Although right now, Jon was not so sure.

 

 

Jon nodded to a tired Sam and walked to Alethia’s door. Had Sam not noticed? He supposed it was not that loud in here. But still, he would have seen a man walk to her door. Right?

 

 

Carefully, Jon took out his dagger and let himself in. He looked around in Alethia’s room, searching for an attacker in the half-lit chamber but found none. His eyes fell upon Al and immediately understood.

 

 

Now not so keen on being quiet, Jon sheathed his dagger and walked to her cot. Carefully, he tried to wake her like he used to wake Bran after he had particularly bad nightmares.

 

 

His eyebrows knitted together in confusion as she stilled, only to widen in horror as Al suddenly whipped a dagger from under her pillow and held it at his throat.

 

 

She stared at him with wild eyes and deranged hair. Jon saw a look in her eyes that he could not quite place. It was something between madness and fear.

 

 

“It’s me, Jon. Hey Al, you can put your dagger down, it’s only me.” He told her carefully. She did not lower her dagger but squinted her eyes in mistrust.

 

 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she slowly let her dagger sink. Jon followed it with his eyes, noticing how her knuckles were white on its grip. He also noticed the bloody scabs around her nails.

 

 

“I’m sorry.” She said earnestly. Her bloodshot eyes were looking at everything but him. Now that she was not attacking him, Jon noticed what she had not let him see before: her vulnerability. And how much she was suffering.

 

 

She had hidden it well, under the guise of hard work and careful preparations before showing herself to the people around her, but now he could see Alethia unprepared and scared. It scared him too.

 

 

He had heard of it before and seen it too, Soldier’s Fever. A few knights and men-at-arms that had returned from great battles in the South had never quite returned to their old selves, wandering the halls of Winterfell alone at night, a bottle of wine to keep them company.

 

 

“Are you alright, Al?” he asked her carefully.

 

 

 

Her eyes flitted around the room, looking at the open door and returning to her feet.

 

“Yeah. I’m fine Jon, really.”

 

 

“I guess I’ll see you in the morning then.” Jon said, walking to the door.

 

 

He was almost out of her room when he heard her call his name.

 

 

“Jon?”

 

 

He turned around.

 

 

“Yeah?”

 

 

“Stay? I can’t sleep, we could walk along the Wall if you want.”

 

 

“You have things to take care of tomorrow, and so do I. You should go to sleep.”

 

 

“It’s more than I normally get.” Al admitted, “I’ll go without you otherwise, I just thought…”

 

 

“Yeah, I get it. I’ll be waiting outside.”

 

 

“Thanks.”

 

 

And so, Jon returned to the infirmary, waiting for his beautiful ghost to join him so they could look over the edge of the world and forget their woes.

 

 

Had Jenny had a lover in Oldstones? Jon could not remember how the song went. But it was just a song, he supposed. A song for the boys of summer that dreamed of being dragonriders and did not know what they wanted.

 

 

He snorted. As if he knew what he wanted.

Chapter 32: FuCK, my physics notes are being reviewed by this world's most reknown scientists

Summary:

Uh, Stannis being Stannis, Melisandre being Melisandre, not THAT angsty

Notes:

TW: cringey use of german

Jon’s POV

 

“I want the Night’s Watch to join my efforts in retaking the Iron Throne.” Stannis told him for what had to be the sixth time.

 

Jon walked to the window of the King’s chambers and looked onto the courtyard. “With all due respect your Grace, I do not command the Night’s Watch. And even if I did, I would not join you.”

 

Stannis followed him to the window and stared out, trying to find what exactly Jon’s gaze was fixed upon.

 

“I have heard stories about you, Jon Snow, they would make you Lord Commander in a heartbeat. And soon enough, there will be a vote. The council has overseen Castle Black long enough.” Finally, the King seemed to find what Jon was looking at.

 

“Ah, the famous Lady Black. Quite a few men in my ranks have taken an interest in her. I wonder when I will have to begin saving her.” Stannis stated coldly.

 

Just in that moment, Jon saw Al put another of Stannis’ men on his back.

 

“She’s not the kind that needs saving.” Jon said, “too many have disappointed her.”

 

I disappointed her. He added in his mind.

 

“I guess she’s not. But she would not hesitate to marry you if you were Lord of Winterfell.” Melisandre said suddenly.

 

Jon was shocked to see the Red Woman, which had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

 

“If you think that’s true, then you are more stupid than I thought.” He burst out. When Jon looked out of the window again, Alethia had disappeared.

 

 

Al’s POV:

 

She pulled her cloak a little tighter as she handed back the sparring sword to Noye and walked to the dining hall. It was empty, or rather, it had been emptied so she could speak to the council in private.

 

Despite everything that had happened, Al knew that this was her best chance to leave Castle Black and make sure that the wildlings and Craster’s Wives were safe.

 

Speaking of which, Alethia felt a sense of pride bloom at the thought of the women. They had made good use of the farm, supplying Castle Black with food, but more importantly, they took advantage of their freedom.

 

The cherry on top for Alethia was the fact that they had become formidable warriors in the shortest time. Gella was the most skilled, admitting to practicing twice a day with her daggers but all the others sparred at least once every two days, leaving the recruits of Castle Black in the dust.

 

Al smirked. If she went South, she would take them with her, maybe even found a sellsword company.

 

She already had a name in mind.

 

The door of the dining hall closed with a thud, but Al did not flinch. She spotted Pyp lingering in a darker corner of the hall but ignored him.

 

“Lady Black. You wanted to speak with the council.” Ser Alliser began.

 

“Yes.” Alethia began, “A long time ago, you told me I would be allowed to leave the Watch when I would be forgotten. People have not forgotten me, but in a war-torn Westeros with several monarchs, I highly doubt anyone would search for me. I would like to leave Castle Black after the matter of the Wildlings has been settled.”

 

The men began to whisper amongst each other, glancing at Alethia. Thorne slammed a fist on the table, silencing them again.

 

“That will suffice. But you will help settle the matter with the Wildlings. Lord Snow is too involved with them, his feelings will get in the way.” Alliser told her.

 

“Yes, ser.”

 

“You may take your leave.” He added frostily.

 

Leaving Pyp behind, Al made her way into the courtyard, where she was met with a most unexpected sight.

 

“Ghost?” she exclaimed, making the head of the huge direwolf turn towards her.

 

The few Wildlings and King’s men alike were hastily scrambling out of the way of the huge beast. Ghost had grown beyond the Wall, Alethia noticed that he went to her shoulder now. Somehow, his right ear had been chewed off, but despite this, he was still as fearsome as ever. If not more so.

 

Olly was standing somewhere between all the men, in complete awe of the beast. Though Al had kept her distance from him, knowing what was to come, she was friendly with the boy. He was just a child after all.

 

“Olly, go fetch Jon please.” She told him, scratching the fearsome beast between the ears, instantly turning it into a small puppy.

 

Soon after, Jon rushed into the courtyard.

 

“There you are boy!” he happily exclaimed, stroking Ghost’s matted fur. Al smiled, and when she saw Grenn and Pyp across the yard, she was not that scared anymore.

 

Only the ache in her heart reminded her that this moment was far from perfect.

 

“Jon?” Alethia asked him after a while when the spectacle around them had cleared a little.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I need to talk to you. About the wildlings I mean.”

 

He only nodded and led her away from the courtyard.

 

As soon as they were at the quieter end of the infirmary, Al began talking.

 

“We need to save the ones at Hardhome.”

 

“Hardhome?” Jon asked.

 

“Small settlement North of Sea guard. The Night King will get to them if we do not, and we need the Wildlings to fight with us, not the dead.”

 

“That’s it?”

 

“Win their trust Jon. Right now, Tormund hates you, and he’s the one who will lead them after Stannis executes Mance Rayder.”

 

“What if he bends the knee?”

 

“We both know that won’t happen, he didn’t take the chance the first time, he won’t do it now. They’ll burn him at the stake.”

 

“Burn him? But why?”

 

“Haven’t you seen the red priestess? She’s obsessed with fire.”

 

“I’ll try my best.”

 

“No Jon, that’s not good enough.” She paused before continuing “The Boltons have Sansa. Even you should know how cruel Ramsay is. If you do not stop him, Sansa won’t survive.”

 

Alethia grabbed Jon’s hands, holding onto them too tightly.

 

“You HAVE to do this. Save her.”

 

“But how? I- I’m a man of the Night’s Watch.”

 

“Jon, this is going to sound crazy, but you have to listen to me. Stannis will try to make you Lord of Winterfell- “

 

“So, I accept?” Jon asked.

 

“I wasn’t done. He has the men, at least right now, but they are from the South, they will not survive a northern winter. Stay here. The Watch will elect a new Lord Commander soon, Sam will suggest you. Let him. Try to win. Sansa’s smart, she knows you’re here and when she comes here, you should be the one calling the shots.”

 

Jon was stunned into silence.

 

“I’ll try my best.” He repeated.

 

“Good. But you are not Commander of anything yet, so you can help me empty chamber pots.”

 

 

 

 

 

Yet another day was coming to an end as Alethia put the drugs and poisons back into their shelves. She looked at the poison that killed Joffrey, killed Maester Cressen, when his killer entered.

 

“So. You are Lady Black.”

 

“And you are the Red Woman.”

 

“Yes, that is what they call me.” Melisandre responded. Al turned around and saw her look at the wounded that were still in the infirmary with a mix of disgust and arrogance.

 

She disliked her even more than in the show already.

 

“You murdered Renly Baratheon.” Alethia said quietly.

 

“That is a bold accusation.”

 

“I was merely stating facts.”

 

“Well, I know some things about you too, Seer.” Melisandre replied.

 

“And what would that be?” Alethia asked, trying to not hit the person that would revive Jon over the head as she entered her rooms unasked.

 

“For one, you know of the long night.” Melisandre began, closing the door behind her. “And for the other, you are inclined differently. Some might say you have the taste of a dornish woman.” She smirked, reaching up to Al’s cheek.

 

Alethia caught her pale hand and stared back into the bloodred eyes.

 

“I would love to get some action, but not with you. You can’t even tell who the prince that was promised is.”

 

Melisandre’s lips turned into a line. “Stannis is the prince that was promised.”

 

“Really? Kinvara thinks it’s Daenerys.”

 

The woman sighed. “You are a foolish girl. What do you know of the future?”

 

“Enough to despise you.” Alethia snarled.

 

Melisandre laughed heartily. “Despise me? You just met me.”

 

“You’re a murderer. You’ll kill an innocent girl if I don’t stop you.”

 

She was silent, but Alethia was not done yet. Al grabbed onto her collar and pulled Melisandre to her face.

 

“Get out of my room,” she began, ignoring the heat that was burning her fingers, “and don’t you dare touch my friends, Hexe.” Alethia spat pushing her away.

 

The woman barely stumbled.

 

“Hexe.” Alethia repeated, the words of her mother tongue sounding strange after such a long time. Finally, Melisandre left and Alethia sunk onto her cot, examining her burnt hands.

 

“What have I done?” she asked herself, watching the castle of cards she had so carefully built around her fall. And yet, she could not help but wonder about her outburst.

 

Out of everything she could have done, Al had chosen to respond in German. Her native language, but also a tongue she had not used in two and a half years. Not even in her thoughts.

 

It came rushing back to her now, and with that, came her memory of home.

 

Almost blindly, Al stumbled to where she hoped to find Aemon.

 

Edd was there, talking to the old man, and apparently cleaning his chambers.

 

“Leave us.” Al croaked, trying to keep her voice steady. She barely held the tears, but when Edd was gone, the dam broke.

 

The old master was sick, he had contracted a flu or something similar from one of the injured. All because Alethia had been wallowing in self-pity.

 

She was crying quietly, but the Maester knew her too well.

 

“Sit.” He commanded, gesturing to where the chair was. Alethia sat down next to him, running her fingers over the worn wood.

 

“I need to tell you something.” She began.

 

“I know of the future. And now, the red woman knows. She’ll destroy everything.”

 

Aemon chuckled. “Did you tell her anything?”

 

“What? No, of course not. But- “

 

“Do not fret. The woman can only see in the flames what she wants to see. Besides, the men here trust you. And the longer Stannis stays at Castle Black, the more the men start to dislike him and his rules. He banned them from going to Mole’s Town.”

 

Alethia snorted. That was indeed stupid. Aemon took her hand and put something in her palm, closing it into a fist.

 

She felt over the smooth surface of the figurine.

 

“A stag?” she asked, a bit confused.

 

“Aye, the princess left it lying around.”

 

“What am I supposed to do with it?” Alethia asked, even more confused.

 

“Keep it. Not everything has to serve a purpose. Let it be a reminder, give it to your children one day. But more importantly, go talk to the princess. She adores you very much.”

 

“Does she now?”

 

“You didn’t think I’d let the otherworldly knowledge lying around in the infirmary dust over, Flower. I sent them all to the Citadel, and the girl has a thirst for knowledge.”

 

“You didn’t even know what was on them!” Alethia sputtered, unsure what to say.

 

“Sam was quite impressed. Besides, the maesters want to meet you. If you do leave the Watch, you will have a place in Oldtown.”

 

Alethia’s mouth was slightly agape as she stared the old man. He seemed very content with himself, humming a little song on his sickbed.

 

“Not everything in this place is terrible, dear. Now off you go, treat those burns. I believe a certain princess is eager to talk to you.”

Notes:

Hexe - Witch

Chapter 33: Of bastards and broken things

Summary:

Jon becomes Lord Commander, the Onion Knight has no knowledge of common courtesies and is that romance I see being developed in the distance?

Notes:

TW: violence

Alethia rose with the sun, preparing herself for the day. She anxiously put on one of her nicer dresses and washed her face before unlocking the door to the infirmary.

 

“Already making your rounds this early?” a man asked.

 

Alethia looked up and recognized Davos Seaworth.

 

“I believe I haven’t had the pleasure.” Al offered, as if she did not know his name.

 

“Davos Seaworth. You’re Lady Black?”

 

“Aye, but my actual name is Alethia.” She responded, taking a bandage off one of the men’s legs. He had asked her to do it while he was still asleep. He was afraid of pain, Alethia guessed. She knew she would not trust anyone to touch her while she was sleeping.

 

The silence was awkward and hung heavy in the air. The Onion Knight was not the most versed in common courtesies and Al would not bother.

 

Still, she had to know.

 

“I hear the king wishes to have Mance Rayder executed this noon.” She muttered, reapplying a salve, and mentally going over the treatment for Aemon’s flu. She did not want him to die, her adoptive grandfather.

 

“Aye. Do you have anything against stiff joints? I’m not made for the northern winds.”

 

“Rather not made for the terrible condition of this castle.” Alethia snorted.

 

Davos chuckled with her, and she reached to the top of one of the shelves.

 

“Here. This should do it, just apply it every evening.” She said as she gave him a small vial.

 

“Thank you.” He said, before leaving.

 

Alethia decided that she liked the man and hoped that Jon would trust him. Before he was entirely out of the door, he began speaking again.

 

“The princess adores you. The priestess however…” he trailed off.

 

“I know.”

 

“Good. You seem like a nice girl. Would be a pity to have you reduced to ashes.”

 

As Davos left, Jon basically burst into the door.

 

“Al, we need to talk.” Was all he said, before pulling her into a corner.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Stannis wants to make me a Stark, Lord of Winterfell.”

 

“And?”

 

“I want to say yes.”

 

“You have to trust me Jon. Do you trust me?”

 

He hesitated, but eventually answered. “It’s hard to believe. But I do love and trust you.”

 

With that, he was gone. Love and trust? Love? What did he mean? Platonic feelings obviously you idiot; Alethia told herself.

 

“I can’t believe I’m falling for a canon-straight man.” She told no one in particular. Then she giggled in an absurdly girly way, thinking about the way this man was not straight in her head canons, and probably in general as well.

 

 

 

Alethia did not realize she had dozed off until she heard the racket that was going on in the courtyard. Still tired, she rubbed her eyes and looked out of the infirmary window.

 

There was Mance Rayder, about to be burned at the stake.

 

“Shit.” She cursed and gathered her skirts before running out of the infirmary.

 

Alternating between curses, Al ran down the stairs and almost slipped out on the second last.

 

“Fucking hell.” She managed, before dramatically storming into one of the last rows. She saw the flames, already licking at the King-beyond-the-Wall’s feet. They spread quickly, too quickly and Al picked up speed again, now basically running to reach the armory.

 

Almost ripping the bow and two arrows from the Wall, she left the armory, sweeping the courtyard for Jon. She was so concentrated that she missed him standing right next to her.

 

“What are you looking for?” Jon asked suddenly, and Al dropped an arrow.

 

“Jesus, fuck. You scared me!” Al scrambled to pick up the arrow and shoved the bow and arrow into his direction. Instantly, Jon walked to take aim and Alethia was glad for their silent mutual understanding.

 

She did not see the arrow hit Mance, but the heavy silence that now laid over Castle Black was confirmation enough for her. Al closed her eyes and exhaled from her corner of the courtyard.

 

As she opened them again, her eyes met those of the red priestess. To her surprise, it was not anger that she saw in them. It was fear.

 

 

A few days later, and still, nothing had happened. No vote for Lord Commander, no repercussions for her or Jon and no Wildlings quarreling with men of the Watch or Kings men.

 

But now, Al and the rest of the men at Castle Black had been called to the dining hall, just after men from Shadowtower and Seawatch had arrived. Alethia knew it was time, and she hoped that everything would fall into place safely, without her friends getting hurt.

 

“As some of you may know, we are here to vote for a new Lord Commander. As of now, two men have presented themselves as candidates for this position. Ser Alliser Thorne and Ser Mallister. The vote will begin short- “one of the men on the council began, before a very nervous Sam interrupted him.

 

“Jon Snow will be running for Lord Commander as well!” he stuttered out loudly.

 

A whisper went through the hall.

 

“Very well then, Jon Snow will be up for the position as well.”

 

Alethia did not quite listen as Sam listed why Jon would be a good Lord Commander as she trusted him to relay correct information.

 

What came next surprised her though.

 

“Alethia will not be casting a vote.” Aemon exclaimed. The hall quieted as they looked to the old Maester, who had been wheeled in by Edd. Al gasped in surprise. Surely, he knew that Jon was the best choice, she had told him after all.

 

Why steal a vote from him?

 

Her surprise only grew as the old man revealed her secret, telling everyone that she would soon be leaving Castle Black. A few men murmured in disappointment and Edd and Sam stared at her, sad and confused.

 

Alethia looked away only to stare straight at Jon. The betrayal and hurt in his eyes were something that she had not expected.

 

Nonetheless, she prayed that he would win the election, and not object.

 

One after another, the votes were cast, with Maester Aemon casting the deciding token and the hall erupted into cheers as the men were presented the 998th commander of the Night’s Watch. Al exhaled a breath of relief as Jon appointed a new man to oversee latrine duty.

 

Then, she prayed that Janos Slynt would not act as stupidly as she almost certainly knew he was going to.

 

“No. I’m not going to man that ruin of a castle.” The man said brazenly.

 

“Are you disrespecting my direct command?” Jon challenged.

 

“I won’t go to those shitstained rocks to rebuild something that doesn’t matter.”

 

“Take him to the block.” Jon said coldly.

 

The fear Alethia saw in Slynt’s eyes was real. As he was escorted to the door, she held it open for Jon, only to be completely ignored by him. Her heart sunk to her stomach. She could not lose him now.

 

Jon pulled the sword out of its scabbard, ignoring the pitiful men’s pleading as Alethia spotted Shireen across the courtyard frozen in place.

 

She elbowed her way through the mass of whispering recruits and king’s men and finally got to the princess.

 

“What are you doing, young lady?” Alethia challenged.

 

“I- “the princess began, but she was still staring past her. Alethia whirled around and spotted Jon, taking aim at the neck. A macabre thought came into her head, whispering that it looked like he was about to play golf, but Alethia pushed it away and covered the princesses’ eyes. Then she firmly grabbed her by the shoulders and led her away.

 

Alethia had almost made it inside as she ran into Stannis and Davos.

 

“Your Grace.” She said, letting go of Shireen.

 

“I’ll take care of my daughter from here.” He replied coldly.

 

“Thank you.” Davos added, as the King marched her away, no doubt wanting to protect her in his own way.

 

“Only doing my duty.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Alethia hurried past him and into the infirmary, where a man with whiplash and another man with a stab wound were waiting for her.

 

“What the hell Al? Were you just going to leave?” Jon suddenly said, appearing behind her on the stairs.

 

“I took a vow not to tell anyone Jon. Don’t you understand? If you’re going to be mad at me, tell me so I can deal with it.” She crossed her arms, anticipating Jon’s reply.

 

Jon’s POV:

Of course, he had been angry at Al for keeping this from him, but as he saw her cross her arms across her chest and narrowing her eyes, already withdrawing from him, his gaze softened.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It just took me by surprise.” He quickly added.

 

“Oh.” Was all Alethia added as her arms fell to her sides and he saw the emotions flash across her face. Primarily, relief. Instantly, he felt even worse.

 

He wanted to kiss her and tell her everything would be alright. Wait. Jon interrupted his own train of thoughts. Did he just think that?

 

He glanced to Al, still standing there alone. Carefully, he reached out and cradled her cheek. To his surprise, she did not stop him, instead she put up her own hand and held him there. Jon desperately wanted to kiss her now, he wanted to know what it would be like.

 

Like Ygritte? Wild and hungry and free? Or would it be like with some of the girls at Wintertown, tamer and patient.

 

It would be neither, he reckoned, as he began to lean in. Al jumped back suddenly, and Jon wondered if he had overestimated himself as he, too, heard the approaching footsteps.

 

As he saw Edd approach, he was ready to kill his friend with his sword, impulsively grabbing the empty scabbard but shook the thought away. What was he doing?

 

“Stannis wants to speak to you.” Was all he said, and with that, Jon and Al were once again alone in the hallway.

 

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Alethia hugged him. It was desperate, and as she began to cling onto him, so did he, as if it was a matter of life and death.

Notes:

I barely managed to finish this but I still hope it's alright...

Chapter 34: Emotions? No thank you!

Notes:

TW: disgusting insects, x-tReMe plotting…
we’re getting closer to hardhome, Jon is lord commander and the reader can finally catch a break from all the angst

I'm so excited to be back to writing :)

Alethia sat alone in the library when Sam knocked on the bookshelf next to her.

 

“Hello Sam.” She said absentmindedly, leaving through the book in her hands.

 

“Looking for a cure for the Maester’s flu?” he asked nervously, holding his own book in his hands.

 

“Yes. I can’t seem to find anything new. How is he holding up?”

 

“Not much better than in the last few hours.”

 

Alethia snorted and forcefully shoved the book back into the shelf. She hesitated when she heard a thud and saw something lie at her feet.

 

“Ahhhh!” she shrieked as she got onto her chair.

 

“What is it?” Sam asked, already beginning to shake.

 

“Something just landed on my feet and,” Alethia gagged, “Whatever it is, its covered in maggots.”

 

Sam, too, shrieked and jumped onto the table.

 

“What do we do now?” he asked her with a panicked voice.

 

“I don’t know! I only know how to kill men and corpses!” Alethia shrieked back looking at the disgusting, white, moving mass.

 

Just then, Jon entered the library. “Alethia, have you seen Sa- “he began, before he stared at both, standing on a chair and the table, respectively.

 

He shook his head in disbelief. “I’m not even going to ask.”

 

“You have to help us!” Sam exclaimed.

 

“Exactly! Be…” Alethia paused “My knight in shining armor and remove those maggots from the library please.”

 

Jon sighed exasperated, but soon removed the maggots from the library.

 

“Happy now?” he asked Alethia.

 

“Yes, my lord.” Alethia mocked, realizing that the Lord Commander had just saved two stewards from a few maggots.

 

“Catch!” she added and let herself fall into his arms. “Thanks!” Alethia said and left the library to check on Maester Aemon. She knew he was going to die, and she had decided that this death would not destroy her. Alethia had already begun to mourn for him.

 

She was so lost in her own thoughts and pre-occupied with leaving the library that she did not hear Sam tease Jon and the obvious blush on his cheeks.

 

 

Instead, she was now opening the doors to Maester Aemon’s chambers.

 

“You’re here, finally.” Aemon said in an uncharacteristically curt manner.

 

“Yes. I brought some herbs.”

 

“No need. I will pass soon enough. I’ll see Egg then.” He smiled a toothless smile.

 

“Alethia dear, come here.” Aemon croaked, beckoning her to come to his bedside.

 

The old master searched for something in his pockets and finally found what he was searching for. A scroll, and a ring.

 

“Another gift?” Alethia asked.

 

“Not for you dear. Give this to Daenerys when she comes to Westeros.”

 

“Why should she believe the letter is real?”

 

“Because the ring has a counterpart. A counterpart that her brother possessed, and she should know. It is not very valuable, but Egg had them made. I love mine very much. But what is it worth to a dead man?”

 

“I’m going to miss you.” Alethia blurted out.

 

“I would hope so. But I believe you have the Lord Commander to console you.”

 

Alethia was silent, not knowing how to respond.

 

“You love him.” Aemon smiled.

 

“Of course, he’s my friend.”

 

“Not like that. I do believe that he will save us from the dead. But he won’t be able to do it without you. Where there is ice, there must be fire.”

 

“Wouldn’t Daenerys be more fitting then.”

 

“I meant your spirit, flower. It is unlike that of any man I have ever met. You hide it well, behind jokes and sharp remarks, but I know you will never give up. He has that fire too.”

 

“We’ll fight the dead together; I promise you that.” Alethia said, and she meant it.

 

Aemon took her hands in his own. “Sometimes, love is the death of duty.”

 

“I won’t let my feelings get into the way.” Alethia promised, surprised at her own words. Since when did she have feelings for Jon?

 

“That’s not what I meant. Jon will not leave the Watch behind without a good reason. I am afraid you must kill his duty Alethia. I do hope you succeed in convincing a Stark to leave behind his promises and do something that goes against his own words. Go now, I do not want you to see me die. You have seen enough of your friends and family do that.”

 

Alethia left the room in a hurry, only to run into Jon.

 

“Stannis is leaving.” He told her.

 

“Aemon is dying. We have to send Sam to the Citadel and make him take Gilly with him.” She replied. “Wait, are you leaving with him?”

 

“No. I promised, didn’t I?”

 

“I have to go. He’ll try to take Shireen with him.”

 

“He’s crazy if he’s going to try that.” Jon replied. “It’s too dangerous for any child, let alone a princess.”

 

“He doesn’t seem to care.”

 

“Good luck Al. I’ll go say goodbye to Aemon and break the news to Sam.”

 

“Good luck Jon.” Alethia replied. Feeling bold, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. It was only a gesture of friendship.

 

If only she knew what was going on in Jon’s head.

 

 

Al stared at the door of King Stannis’ office. ‘Goddamnit Al, get over yourself and knock. The Red Priestess can suck it.’ She thought, gathering all her courage, and raising her hand, only for the door to be flung open from the inside and have an angry Bowen Marsh storm out.

 

She was about to ask him what was wrong when she herself was called inside.

 

Davos was leaning over Stannis’ shoulder, no doubt trying to decipher the letter in front of his king, Melisandre nowhere to be seen.

 

“Lady Black, what do you need?” the king asked, not looking up from his letter.

 

“I have a proposition, concerning your daughter Shireen.” Alethia began but stopped when she saw that Stannis was not listening.

 

“Actually, I need you to show me some respect and listen to what I’m saying.”

 

“Your Grace.” Davos reminded sharply, but his expression told Alethia that he was not angry at her, rather, he was interested and looked hopeful.

 

“Go on then.” Stannis allowed.

 

“An army camp is no place for a child, much less a girl. Permit your daughter, the princess Shireen to stay behind at Castle Black. I will personally see that she is protected. I can also look after her education. She is your heir, and you cannot risk her death if you want to secure your lineage. Jon is the new Lord Commander and together with him, I can guarantee you that she will be much safer here than out there.”

 

“The Red Woman advises me to leave no one behind.”

 

“She may be a priestess, but she doesn’t know everything. In the end, it is your decision, your Grace. I can only pray that you will make the right one.”

 

 

Alethia hastily left the room and returned to the infirmary, puttering away, and doing her duty. The army was leaving at dawn, and it was already the evening. She was beginning to lose hope when Davos entered the infirmary.

 

“Do you need something for your joints, my Lord?” Alethia asked politely, hoping that he was bringing good news. The right news.

 

“I was hoping to interest you in a walk.” The man instead responded.

 

That could mean anything, but most likely, he wanted to speak to her in private.

 

“Have you been atop the Wall?” she asked him carefully.

 

“No, but I would love to see it.”

 

Alethia took her cloak from where it was hanging over the fire and put on the warm fabric, leading the Onion Knight from the infirmary and to the lift.

 

They were in the middle of their ascent when Davos began to speak in a hasty and quiet voice.

 

“Stannis intends to take Shireen with him when he leaves.”

 

“Ah. But you disagree?”

 

“Isn’t that obvious? Why are you so eager on keeping her here?”

 

“What has Melisandre said about me?”

 

Davos hesitated. “Go on, I’m not easily insulted.”

 

“She did call you a witch and a seer on several occasions.”

 

“Well, she ain’t wrong. None of her plans for Shireen are good. She means to take her in case she needs King’s Blood. If she feels the need to burn her, she will.”

 

Davos sharply inhaled.

 

“Now, telling your king won’t do anything, he won’t believe you.” Alethia quieted down as they reached the top of the Wall and only resumed to speak when she deemed it safe.

 

“But lucky for us, you weren’t always a do-good knight, right?”

 

“You mean that I was a smuggler.” Davos said. Alethia briefly wondered if he took it as an insult.

 

“Aye.”

 

“I don’t see how that will help us.”

 

“There is a farm near Castle Black. You must have passed it on your way here. There live seven sisters, I have trained them to fight personally. Wait until you are past them and when the suns sets the next time, take Shireen in the middle of the night and bring her to them. She will be safe there and no one will suspect that they are there, or that you took her, unless you act suspiciously. I’ll make arrangements to take her in.”

 

“So that’s your plan, kidnap the princess?”

 

“She trusts you.”

 

“And I would be betraying that trust!” he exclaimed. Alethia stopped the man by the shoulder.

 

“Shireen isn’t dumb. She will understand if you explain it to her. And you won’t be kidnapping her. You’ll only be doing what you are best at. You’ll smuggle something to save lives.”

 

And so, Alethia left the man to ponder. She was not scared, even though she had just committed high treason. Instead, she was ecstatic. Finally, a chance for a change that would be good.

Notes:

in the next chapter im going to introduce crasters ex wives more closely and im really excited because im beginning to write a really cool sub plot for them and im just so excited ahhh

Chapter 35: Go big or go home

Summary:

Get ready for some revelations

Notes:

Longest chapter yet? I am insanely proud of this.

Shireen’s POV:

The Wall glittered as the moon illuminated it, and the fort under the structure. Though Castle Black was small and compact, it was still a formidable fortress, though mostly through its people.

 

Shireen sighed as she watched the castle shrink in the distance. It was like the beginning of the stories, brave warriors leaving the safety of their homes to fight a war. Only Castle Black was not her home. Was Dragonstone? She could not be sure. Shireen had been away for too long.

 

And if there was one thing her father and her mother agreed on, it was that Dragonstone was no place for a child. Shireen sighed again as she thought of her mother. Many thought the rightful queen was a foolish woman, and that did not exclude her.

 

Her eyebrows furrowed a little, as they always did when she was deep in thought. Lady Black, no, Alethia, had said that she did the same. Shireen tried to shrug off the thought of the mysterious warrior woman at Castle Black and directed her thoughts back towards her mother.

 

She had changed at Castle Black. While most of Stannis’ men enjoyed the reprieve Castle Black gave them, her mother had withered away in the building. Shireen had often heard her arguing with her father, begging him to let Shireen return to Dragonstone with a few men.

 

Even when Lady Melisandre had told her that this was for the best, her mother had continued to argue. She had never done that before. Shireen suspected that her mother was beginning to lose faith.

 

When Shireen had asked her mother about Melisandre, she had sung the highest of praises. Alethia however…

 

Her reaction was something that Shireen still could not place even weeks after it had taken place. When Shireen asked, the woman’s lips had become a thin line. Do not trust that woman, Shireen.

 

Why had she said that? Shireen had seen her eyes too. There had not been tears, but it looked like the grief her mother’s eyes permanently seemed to hold when she talked to her.

 

At first, Shireen had been deeply unsettled by Lady Black. She had talked to her because she knew so much, but other than that, she stayed away.

 

It had been easier to talk to Samwell Tarly. The Tarlys were bannermen to her father and she and Sam had had a queer kind of friendship before he had left for the Wall.

 

“Why is she like that?” Shireen had blurted out one day. Alethia had pulled her away from the burning quite forcefully. She had seen people get sacrificed before, surely the woman knew that.

 

“Pardon, I didn’t mean to ask.” Shireen had quickly amended.

 

Sam had smiled that smile that held so much grief then. Everyone at the Wall seemed to smile it. Or not at all.

 

“It’s alright. She was trying to protect you, you know.”

 

“I don’t need that kind of protection; I’ve seen Lady Melisandre sacrifice men before.”

 

“Al is my friend and I know her better than most here. Maybe only Jon and Maester Aemon know her better. She’s seen too much. When she came here, she fiercely protected me. In a different way than she protected you, but still. The Wall changes us all, but it broke her. Don’t be angry, princess, she means well.”

 

After that, Sam had looked around, as if he expected his friend to jump out of a corner and scold him for his misconduct. Shireen had not managed to get another word out of him then.

 

She had heard the whispers though. The first thing she found out was that her friends had died in the battle that had taken place just before she arrived. Then, that she was from another world. Shireen had already known that, but still. It was regarded common knowledge and did not seem to bother anyone at the Wall.

 

The things she heard next were near the darker and more twisted stories Shireen had read in secret. That she had seen the Others. She had to kill a sworn brother, lost everything, and much more.

 

And when the looks of scorn followed proud Lady Black it was clear to Shireen that she was not loved here. Respected yes, but not loved.

 

“Her pride is the only thing she’s got left.” A man had whispered to another, and Shireen thought it was true. When she repeated the words to Ser Davos, the man nodded.

 

“Aye, the girl is fierce when it comes to her pride.” He’d said.

 

Shireen turned the words over in her head and decided that she had been wrong. In truth, she did not admire Alethia because of her skills at arms or her knowledge or her adventures, she admired her because of the loyalty the woman showed her friends.

 

Alethia Stahl had more than her pride, she had her friends. The only thing Shireen did not have.

 

A few hours later and she found herself in a war tent, lying on her cot. It was as if Shireen had never been to Castle Black at all. Carefully, she opened a tome she had borrowed from Castle Black and began to read.

 

A manservant entered soon and told her that she would be eating alone as her father and the Onion Knight were going over military strategies and her mother was joining Lady Melisandre in worship. All in all, it truly felt like Castle Black had been a fever dream.

 

Soon, Shireen closed her book. It was no use. She was tired and no one was going to see her tonight. After she had eaten, she tried to get comfortable on her cot. She held the doe her knight had crafted for her tightly and tried to fight sleep. Maybe she could say goodnight to her father if she stayed up a little longer.

 

But alas, it was no use and soon, her eyes drooped, and she fell into a light sleep.

 

Something was tugging at her shoulder and Shireen pushed it away, but the thing was quite insistent. She opened her eyes and saw the figure of a man loom over her. She opened her mouth to scream but the man quickly clapped a gloved hand over her mouth.

 

Only then did she realize it was Ser Davos.

 

He removed his hand from her mouth and started gathering a few of her things.

 

“Ser Davos? What are you doing?”

 

“What I’m about to do is treason, so I need you to come along quietly alright?”

 

“What do you mean?” Shireen asked, scared now.

 

“Here.” he said, giving her a sealed letter. “It’ll be easier if you read it while I pack.” He explained.

 

Shireen wanted to protest but her eyes fell onto the seal. It was black, but unlike official letters from the Watch, which had a blank seal, a raven decorated the wax. Instantly, Shireen thought of the gray raven, Morgan.

 

Carefully, she opened the letter and began to read.

 

 

If you want to live, go with Davos. I foresaw a future where the red priestess will burn you. You need to trust me. I cannot make you, but if you do not go with Davos, you are doomed. I want to make this world a better place, you can help me with that.

-the Warrior

 

 

The Warrior? Who was posing as a god? Or was this just a code? Despite Lady Melisandre, Shireen had had an upbringing in the name of the Seven. Any Westerosi would surely know the meaning of this.

 

But Shireen could not ponder on this now. She weighed her opportunities. The braziers were burning lower than before, and Shireen briefly wondered if she would see something in the flames. A sudden calm overcame her as she realized that she did not need to look into the flames to see her father’s defeat.

 

Even a girl as young as her knew that the odds were stacked against them, and before they could even attack any other army, they would have to make it through the north and the blizzards they had encountered on the way here.

 

“When do we leave?” she asked Davos. He snatched the letter from her and threw it into the brazier.

 

“Now.” The man said and threw her some clothes Shireen did not recognize. A thrill ran through her. She would be getting her own story after all.

 

“Wait!” she told him and stuffed a few pillows under her furs, making it look like she was sleeping in it.

 

Ser Davos grabbed her hand and lead her out of the tent, squeezing through a back entrance she had failed to notice before. They ran and Shireen was glad for the trousers she was wearing. Davos looked different too, wearing furs like the wildlings at Castle Black had.

 

After a while she got tired and Davos hoisted her up into his arms, despite already carrying her things. Still, he ran like his life depended on it. Hers seemed to.

 

She did not now how much time had passed until they reached two horses. Davos threw her things on one and mounted the other, quickly helping her up. Neither of them were bearing any kind of sigil.

 

Davos urged the horses into a gallop, but they soon rode into the forest and slowed down to avoid making more noise than necessary. Sooner than Shireen would have thought possible, they stopped again at the other side of the forest.

 

Shireen saw the Wall, bigger than before and just as intimidating as she remembered.

 

“Are you taking me back to Castle Black?” she asked him.

 

“No princess. And I fear I won’t be taking you anywhere from here.”

 

Before Shireen could ask any more questions, a woman walked into the clearing from behind them. Shireen half expected Alethia but as the woman lowered her hood, Shireen was dumbfounded at her identity.

 

“I’ll take her from here.”

 

“Are you Gella?” Ser Davos asked.

 

“Aye.” She replied and dropped something into his hand. Shireen did not know what it was, but she saw it glint in the moonlight before it disappeared in her Knight’s gloves.

 

Davos stared at her, tears filling the man’s eyes.

 

“You should head back.” Shireen told him, again surprising herself.

 

“Farewell, princess.” Davos said.

 

Gella got on Davos’ horse. “Your name is Greren, do you understand?” she curtly told her.

 

“Yes.”

 

Shireen could tell the woman was unsure on her horse, but said nothing, only following her. Was she imagining the sky getting lighter?

 

They rode into a different direction again and Shireen was sure she would not be able to find her way back to her father’s encampment, even if she tried.

 

“You can sleep if you want.” The woman told her, and Shireen did not think twice, closing her eyes and letting the horse sway her into a dreamless sleep.

 

 

 

“Wake up girl.” Gella told her and Shireen opened her eyes. In front of her was a farm. It looked idyllic, with the windmill turning and smoke rising from the chimney.

 

She got off her horse and was thrown yet another bundle of clothes.

 

“Take that hairdo out. And get inside.” The woman told her coldly. She pointed Shireen to a small shed, and she did as she was bid.

 

Shireen did not know why she expected Gella to be waiting outside of the shed. The woman was nowhere in sight, or so she thought.

 

“You done?” Gella asked.

 

“I- yes.”

 

“Come. You shouldn’t miss breakfast.” Gella led her to the farmhouse, passing a few other women on the way. None of them paid Shireen any mind.

 

“Where are your men?” Shireen asked.

 

“There are none. And I thank the gods for it.” Gella said in her curt manner and Shireen sensed that it was better not to ask any more questions.

 

She had already begun to eat her porridge when she noticed the quiet figure by the hearth.

 

“Alethia? What are you doing here?” she exclaimed, shook at the woman’s presence.

 

“I wanted to see you safely at this farm, Greren.”

 

“I think I am safe.” Shireen said, barely acknowledging the new name.

 

“Yes. Yes, you are. Your father has sent search parties for you, but the red priestess urges him to press on. Don’t dwell on that for too long. For your own sake.”

 

She stepped towards Shireen and reached into her cloak.

 

“More clothes?” Shireen joked.

 

“Not quite.” Al replied and pulled out a knife. “I had this made when I first came to Winterfell. Gella will teach you how to wield it.”

 

Shireen wanted to protest, say that she did not need to learn how to fight but she knew that was stupid.

 

Suddenly, Alethia came towards her and pulled Shireen into an embrace. She sunk into it, not realizing how much she wanted it. Soon, Alethia took her leave. She turned around at the door and told her one more thing.

 

 

 

“Do what they tell you. You’ll have enough people to command once you sit the Iron Throne.”

Notes:

I got so excited that I had to post this earlier, sorry. The plot is finally picking up and I can do more than just recount events, writing is insane fun and I’m on my summer break. All in all, prepare yourself for some good fucking writing + me finally editing earlier chapters. Also, thank you all for your support and special thanks to DarkAngel620 and QueefQueen (what a name) for consistently commenting. You guys make me happy and keep me motivated. Again, to anyone who’s read this far, feel free to kudo, comment and recommend this monstrosity I somehow wrote.

PS: I posted the second chapter to “Two Sides of a coin” if anyone wants to give it a read. Btw, I might be shortening the work names of my big wips so for future reference: WotW-> Woman of the Watch and TSoaC-> Two Sides of a coin.

Chapter 36: Planning treason with Ned Stark's son is a death wish, right?

Summary:

Aemon is dead, Sam leaves for the South and the sisters are introduced.

Notes:

What? Another update in four days? I must be sick.

2180 something words?! These chapters are getting out of hand. If only you knew how excited I am at diverging from canon and writing my own stuff. Especially the sister-subplot is so great to write! I’ve plotted out the next 15 chapters, and as mentioned before (I think), I’m currently on vacation, so more surprise updates like this one are very likely 😊

Alethia returned to Castle Black with the herbs she’d been collecting and a heavy heart. Maester Aemon had passed during the night, refusing to see her one last time, and staying true to his words. Now, it was time for him to be burned.

 

She gave her horse to a stablehand and luckily remained unquestioned. Alethia rushed up the tower and into the infirmary. They were leaving for Hardhome tomorrow and she needed to prepare it for many injured. Despite wanting to get ready for the funeral, she knew Aemon would want to her to prepare to help the injured, so that was what she did.

 

Finally though, Sam knocked at the door and summoned her to the courtyard. Because she was the Maester’s apprentice, Jon had asked her to make a speech and she obliged.

 

Alethia entered the courtyard and looked around. For this occasion, every single man that could be spared attended the funeral of one of the last Targaryens. No matter how long they had been in the Watch, they had all known and respected the Maester.

 

Al only hoped that they would respect her and Sam too.

 

Sam had retrieved the torch which would be used to light the pyre and stood by her side, occasionally sniffling. Alethia began her speech when everyone had quieted down, even Morgan, who was sitting on the railing.

 

“We are gathered here today to mourn the death of a great man. Maester Aemon came to Castle Black a Maester and has served the Watch longer than any other man to this date. There were times where he had opportunity and reason to leave this place and yet, he refused. He came from a line of kings and conquerors, yet Maester Aemon chose to serve.

 

Now, our Maester has died, and we are left to pick up the pieces he has left behind. Many in the Seven Kingdoms don’t know who he is. But we do. All we can do now is remember the legacy he has left behind. It may seem unimportant to the rest of the world, but we know better. Aemon Targaryen was truly great. We shall never see his like again. And now his watch has ended.”

 

“And now his watch has ended.” The men gathered repeated. Alethia looked to her left, where Ser Alliser stood, proud as ever. He, too, would mourn the Maester’s death. When their eyes met, he inclined his head. Alethia was glad that he had liked her speech.

 

 

 

 

“That speech was brilliant Al!” Sam exclaimed as they climbed the stairs to the infirmary.

 

“It was alright. Eulogies aren’t my strength. Have you packed your things?”

 

“I have.” Sam replied, looking at the floor. Alethia ignored his discomfort at the thought of leaving and went through her files. Finally, she found what she was looking for and pulled out a document.

 

“Take this to the Citadel. It contains a letter from Maester Aemon.”

 

Sam still looked to the floor. Alethia crossed the distance between them and put a hand on his shoulder.

 

“I’m going to miss you dearly Sam. But it is better this way, the Watch needs a good Maester. Who knows, maybe you’ll even become a wizard when you learn about Old Valyria!”

 

Sam chuckled, looking a little more enthusiastic about the venture.

 

“Sam, I know it’s hard, but Gilly won’t be safe here. It’s better this way, believe me.” Alethia added, pulling Sam into a hug.

 

“I can’t wait to tell my sisters about my sworn sister.” Sam admitted as they parted.

 

“Are you all set?” a voice came from the doorway. Sam and Alethia turned around to see Jon standing there a little uncomfortable.

 

“My lord, please come into my humble abode.” Alethia exaggerated, already going into a low curtsy.

 

“You aren’t going to let that go, are you?” Jon asked.

 

“Not very likely.” Al replied.

 

“I’m going to miss you Sam.” Jon said, hugging his friend goodbye.

 

“I’ll see you later, Snow.” Alethia said, following Sam through the door.

 

“And I you, Stahl.”

 

The wagon was already settled, and Gilly sat on top. The food was still missing, but Al intended to pick up supplies at the farm. That way, she would have an excuse to visit Shireen and make sure the girl was safe.

 

Alethia got onto her favorite horse, following Gilly and Sam out of Castle Black, and making their way to the farm. As soon as the Castle grew smaller behind them, Alethia took over the lead and showed them to the farm. It was good that Gilly was coming along, now, she would be able to say goodbye to her sisters.

 

 

 

 

When they finally arrived at the farm, they were greeted by Greta, who was only a year older than Gilly.

 

The young girl ran outside, and Gilly threw herself into her sister’s arms.

 

“All this time my sisters were safe here?” she asked Alethia. Al nodded, a little uncomfortable.

 

“It was better if the men at Castle Black didn’t know about seven women without men around in walking distance.” Alethia admitted. Gilly nodded, obviously not too ecstatic about the situation.

 

“I wanted you to be able to say goodbye to your sisters before you and Sam ride south.”

 

“Thank you.” Gilly replied honestly, letting herself get led inside by her sister.

 

“You can come inside too Sam; they won’t kill you.” Alethia laughed.

 

“Are you sure about that?” he asked hesitantly, staring into the field, where a few women were gathering crops.

 

“You saved their sister and her nephew. I’m sure Sam.”

 

As they stepped inside, six of the sisters, Gilly and little Sam were already sitting.

 

“Where are Gella and Greren?” Alethia asked.

 

“Gella’s keeping watch and Greren is feeling unwell.” The oldest sister, Gally, replied.

 

“She’s teaching me how to read!” Greta quickly added, before being silenced by an elbow from her sister Grima.

 

Thankfully, neither Sam nor Gilly asked any questions. They were too occupied with their stew.

 

After a while, Garra, the third youngest (counting Gilly), spoke up.

 

“So, you’re the man who stole our sister.” She asked Sam.

 

Sam immediately started choking on his stew. “What? No! I mean, I’m only taking her south and- “

 

“I was joking. I’m thankful that you saved her from our father. So, south, huh?”

 

“Yes, Hornhill.”

 

“Sam showed me a picture in the library! He said it’s even bigger than Castle Black!” Gilly exclaimed happily.

 

“How far south?” Gally asked.

 

“South of the Neck. They won’t get her.” Alethia reassured, knowing that Gally still worried about her brothers turned White Walkers.

 

“Good.” Was all she said to that. After their lunch, the sisters quickly packed up everything and soon, Sam and Gilly were settled to go. Before they left, Gella said her goodbyes to her sister and nephew and gave Sam a withering stare.

 

“If you break her heart, I will cut yours out and feed it to the animals, understood?” she asked him.

 

Sam paled considerably and nodded his head. Gella smirked and said goodbye properly then. As the wagon got smaller, Gilly waved and so did her sisters, until she was out of sight.

 

“How long are you staying Lady Crow?” Gally asked her then.

 

“Not much longer, just wanted to make sure that Greren is safe. Can I speak to her?”

 

“Yes. I tried to teach her some fighting this morning. She’s terrible, but she might make a fine archer.” Gella added.

 

Alethia snorted and followed her to Shireen’s room, which was up in the mill. It was noisy, yes, but safe.

 

“Hello, Greren.” Alethia said when she entered the room under the roof.

 

Shireen was so concentrated on her reading that she hadn’t heard Al enter at first.

 

“Oh, hello, Lady Alethia.”

 

Alethia turned around and closed the door behind them.

 

“I’ve got a present for you.” She told Shireen, who got up, excited.

 

“What is it?” the girl asked.

 

“’Nymeria and her thousand ships.’ Thought you might like to read about a few kings and queens in the future. And besides, with Sam and Aemon gone, no one but me uses the library.”

 

“Thank you, Alethia.”

 

“How are you adjusting?” Alethia asked carefully.

 

“I’m alright. A few of my fathers’ men came asking for me, but they left very quickly. I have been helping around the house and the field. I can’t believe farming is so hard!”

 

Shireen then went on to tell her about how she was teaching the sisters to read and her archery training. She proudly showed of the calluses her hands had gained through the hard work.

 

“Ser Davos had those from years on a ship!” she exclaimed.

 

Alethia was glad she was happy, and their time was over too soon. Still, she had to teach the sisters a little more about weaponry and then leave for Castle Black. Jon wanted to go over the strategy for Hardhome with her, Tormund, Edd and, surprisingly, Olly and Ser Alliser, who would be taking over command while Jon was gone.

 

 

 

Al opened the door to Jon’s office, letting herself in a little earlier. Jon looked up at her.

 

“How’d it go?” he asked Alethia.

 

“Good.” She dismissed, “But I need to talk to you about a few things before the meeting starts.”

 

“Go ahead.” Jon said, studying a map. Alethia got up and locked the door to his office.

 

“After the meeting, talk to Olly and explain why you’re bringing the Wildlings over. His whole family was killed by wildlings, and I can tell that he is angry at you for the decision you are making. If he could, I’m sure he’d kill Tormund.”

 

“I will.” Jon promised.

 

Alethia sat down across from him and grabbed his free hand. Jon looked up, surprised.

 

“Jon, what I’m about to tell you could change the course of Westerosi history, but I trust you. Swear to me that you’ll keep this a secret and that you’ll lie in order to keep it.”

 

“I swear it, by the old gods and the new.” Jon said without hesitation.

 

Alethia stared at him, making sure that there was nothing but honesty in his eyes.

 

Jon’s POV:

 

Alethia stared at him a little while longer before speaking again.

 

“Remember those men that came looking for the princess a few days ago?” she asked him.

 

“Yes?” Jon replied. What the hell had Al planned this time?

 

“Well, I lied to them. I know where Shireen is. I’m the reason she disappeared.” She admitted.

 

“You didn’t kill her, right?” Jon asked.

 

“What? No! Jon, what I’m about to tell you is treason and I intend you to keep your mouth shut.”

 

“I will, I just swore I would!” Jon replied, already getting angry.

 

“I intend to make Shireen queen.” Alethia blurted out.

 

“WHAT?” Jon almost yelled. Whatever he had expected, it wasn’t this.

 

“Be quiet and listen. Right now, Tommen is king, but he is a bastard, no offense. Cersei will be a tyrant. When Daenerys comes, people will see her as a foreigner. With Tommen being a bastard and Cersei hopefully dead, that leaves Stannis. Stannis will die, he won’t survive the northern winter. That leaves Shireen as heir by right of conquest. She has Baratheon and Targaryen blood, and she was raised to be an heir. She’ll be a good queen, I know it.” Alethia whispered as quickly as she could.

 

Jon’s head was spinning. “You’re joking right?” he groaned.

 

Al shook her head. “Right now, she’s at the farm with the sisters. Her name is Greren. When I go south, I’ll take her with me, maybe I can foster her at Winterfell with Sansa, and she can learn how to rule.”

 

“The Boltons will kill her and Sansa! They rule, the North and Winterfell, they side with the Lannisters.” Jon spat.

 

Al smirked. “Not for long, Jon, not for long.”

 

'This woman’s scheming is going to be the death of me.' Jon thought, staring at Alethia. She was too wicked, too beautiful for his own good and he was sure that it was going to be the death of him one day.

 

Before he knew it, he had leaned forward, so that their faces were once again only centimeters apart. Al’s eyes flickered down to his lips.

 

‘Gods, I want to kiss her.’ Jon thought, already leaning in, when a knock sounded on the door.

 

Al snapped away, the opportunity ruined, and opened the door, revealing Olly.

 

“Should I go get them now, my Lord?” Olly asked. Jon nodded and dismissed his steward.

 

“One day, I might commit a murder because of this shite.” Al groaned.

 

Jon had to stifle a laugh. “Seems like I’ll help you clean away the evidence.”

 

He tried to regret his response, but he found that he couldn’t. Jon was glad that he knew his feelings were mutual. No matter the unspoken agreement of secrecy and silence between them.

Notes:

I know that the sisters are probably a little confusing, but if anyone has any questions, I would love to answer them. Again, I’d love to hear your opinions. The BoB is coming up and I’m not sure whether or not I want her to become a Bolton hostage for like, the night (this'll be an important part of my super-secret writing plan, so I want you guys to be in on it). Also is this actually slow burn? I have no idea.

Chapter 37: Part IV: 99 Problems, but school ain't one

Part IV: 99 Problems, but school ain't one

Chapters: 38-50

Summary: The Dead are coming, Alethia knows it just as well as everyone else in Castle Black, and she also knows what lies in the near future. From Hardhome, and Jon's possible death, to Sansa coming to Castle Black Alethia struggles to keep what she's seen under control while also trying to find the best outcome in this shithole, for her and her friends.

 

Cast

Jeanne Goursaud in Barbarians as older Alethia

Age: 16-17

 "I want to go home. I just want to go home.”

 

Sophie Turner as Sansa Stark

Age: 15

“I swore a vow to you, didn’t I?”

 

Art Parkinson as Rickon Stark

Age: 13

-

Chapter 38: Hardhome, pt.1

Summary:

Alethia and Jon arrive at Hardhome, shit gets realer than ever before

Notes:

TW: blood, gore, death

Underlined text is in german, with the translation right in the brackets behind it because every time I have to scroll down to the end of the chapter to find a translation, my anger issues act up.

The cold wind stung Alethia’s eyes as she stood at the prow of one of the ships Stannis had left behind to aid their fight. Mindlessly, her hand touched the pommel of her sword, Lucifer.

 

Though it was battle-tested, she wasn’t sure if the Valyrian Steel in it would be enough to kill a Wight, much less a White Walker. Well, in any case, she still had the dagger.

 

She could begin to make out the silhouette of Hardhome when she heard someone come up behind her.

 

“Enjoying the view?” Tormund asked, much gentler than after the battle. In the past week, Al had managed to somehow reconcile with the man.

 

“Barely. Praying that I don’t die a seventeen-year-old virgin.”

 

Tormund threw his head back and laughed loudly. “You should’ve fucked your pretty crow then. I’m sure he would’ve been up to it. And I swear, if I have to watch you two stare at each other for much longer, I might throw up.”

 

Alethia chuckled. “I’d pay to watch the mighty Tormund Giantsbane throw up from watching two lovesick children do nothing.”

 

“Ya ain’t a child, Al. Maybe young but you’re stronger than most people. Some heavy shit you’ve been through.”

 

“Thanks.” Alethia nodded and Tormund left, probably to pick up that huge ax.

 

“Nervous, eh?” Edd asked, replacing Tormund.

 

“I’m about to piss my pants.” Alethia answered honestly.

 

Edd didn’t laugh. He was pale as Alethia could finally see the hut she’d hopefully be in a few minutes from now.

 

“Well, good luck to us.” Alethia muttered.

 

“Yeah, good fucking luck.” Edd replied rather gloomily.

 

 

 

 

 

Finally, they were all gathered on the shores of Hardhome. Al watched the crowd part and let someone step forward she’d hoped to never see again.

 

“Lord of Bones,” Tormund greeted, stepping in front of her and the rest of the Night’s Watch men.

 

Al could see the disgust even through the man’s mask.

 

“Last time I saw you, the pretty Crow was your prisoner.” The Lord of Bones sneered. They all looked to Jon. “It’s the other way around now. What happened?”

 

“War.”

 

“War? You call that a war? The greatest army the North had ever seen, cut to pieces by some southern king.”

 

Tormund wasn’t bothered. “We should gather the elders. Find somewhere quiet to talk.”

 

A snarl. “You don’t give the orders here.”

 

“I’m not giving an order,” Tormund explained with infinite patience.

 

The Lord of Bones looked Tormund up and down. “Why aren’t you in chains?”

 

“He’s not my prisoner,” Jon said stiffly.

 

“No? What is he?”

 

A pause, then, “We’re allies.”

 

Alethia tensed, grabbing a weapon with each hand, full well knowing what was about to go down.

 

The Lord of Bones spat on the ground and pointed his monstrous clawed staff at Tormund. “You fucking traitor.”

 

Alethia and Edd shifted towards each other, and she could tell that Edd was trying to stop himself from gripping his sword.

 

“You fight for the Crows now?” the Lord of Bones demanded.

 

“I don’t fight for the Crows.” Tormund replied, stepping even closer to the Lord of Bones. Alethia was sure that the tension could be cut with a knife. All eyes were on the two wildlings.

 

“We’re not here to fight,” Jon cut in. “We’re here to talk.”

 

“Oh, is that right?” The Lord of Bones tapped his skull-capped staff against Tormund’s chest. “You and the pretty Crow do a lot of talking, don’t you? And when you’re done talking, do you get down on your knees and suck his c—”

 

 

Suddenly, Tormund grabbed the staff from Rattleshirt. Alethia watched quietly as one man beat the other to death.

 

 

“Gather the elders,” Tormund repeated, “and let’s talk.”

 

 

 

Alethia stood proudly behind Jon, her hand still close to the hilt of the dagger. If it came to fighting, she would take the red vipers’ advice and use it for close quarters.

 

As of yet, no one had spoken. Jon interrupted the quiet with his speech.

 

“My name’s Jon Snow. I’m Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.” He surveyed the room full of wildlings. “We’re not friends. We have never been friends. We won’t become friends today. This isn’t about friendship. This is about survival. This is about putting a seven hundred-foot-wall between you and what’s out there.” He pointed beyond the hut.

 

“You built that wall to keep us out,” said a wildling woman.

 

Alethia turned to face her and felt her breath catch in her throat.

 

“You’re Karsi.” She said.

 

“How the fuck does the she-crow know my name?” she demanded, already reaching for her spear.

 

“Nolite te bastardes carborundorum.” Alethia said very quietly, not sure if she’d even been heard.

 

The woman’s face paled, but she quickly regathered her composure.

 

“Nice to meet you, Katerina.” Alethia said, not lying.

 

“I speak Russian and German.” Was all the woman replied, “What about you?”

 

“German too. Hast du die Bücher gelesen oder die Serie geschaut? (Have you read the books or watched the series?)” Alethia asked hastily, ignoring the stares from the other elders and a look of admiration from Jon.

 

“Nein. Mein größter Fehler. (No. My biggest mistake.)” Karsi replied, her Russian accent thick in Alethia’s mother tongue.

 

“Ich schon. Wir müssen so schnell wie möglich weg. Wir haben Waffen gegen die Monster mitgebracht. (I have. We must leave as quickly as we can. I brought weapons against the monsters).”

 

“Would anyone care ta tell me what the fuck you two are goin’ on about?” Tormund interrupted.

 

“This woman is a Traveler as well. She claims that if we want to live, we must leave immediately. She also claims that she has the weapons to beat the White Walkers.” Karsi explained.

 

“Since when do the Crows give two shits if we live?” the Thenn chief muttered, hatred burning in his eyes.

 

“In normal times we wouldn’t,” Jon replied, “but these aren’t normal times. The White Walkers don’t care if a man’s Free Folk or Crow. We’re all the same to them. Meat for their armies. But together, we can beat them.”

 

Another woman snorted at that claim. “Beat the White Walkers?” she asked incredulously. “Good luck with that. Run from them, maybe.”

 

Jon pulled out a black leather satchel from within his cloak. The Free Folk prepared for a counterattack, but Jon only held it out to Karsi for her to take. “It’s not a trick,” he promised.

 

Katerina took it and examined the dragonglass inside.

 

“It’s a gift for those who join us,” Jon said as he walked back to Alethia’s side. Karsi took out a shining black dagger and looked to him questioningly.

 

“Dragonglass. A man of the Night’s Watch used one of these daggers to kill a walker.”

 

“You saw this?” the Thenn questioned.

 

“No. But I trust the man.” Jon replied.

 

“I killed one of the fuckers with dragonglass.” Al interrupted him. This was going too slowly.

 

“My wife told me stories about dragonglass,” Karsi said, one of her fingers running across the flat of the dagger.

 

“There are stories about ice spiders as big as hounds,” the Thenn snorted.

 

And with the things we’ve seen, you don’t believe it?” she shot back.

 

Alethia elbowed Jon and he thankfully focused the topic again. “Come back with me, and I’ll share these weapons.”

 

“Come with you where?” asked Karsi.

 

“There are good lands south of the Wall,” Jon replied. “The Night’s Watch will let you through the tunnel and allow your people to farm those lands.”

 

The Free Folk whispered, and their murmurs flew through the hut. Jon talked on before somebody could stop him. “I knew Mance Rayder. He never wanted a war with the Night’s Watch; he wanted a new life for his people. For you. We’re prepared to give you that new life.”

 

“If?” the woman followed up, aware that there were stipulations to the proposal.

 

“If you join us when the real war begins.”

 

“And where is Mance?” the Thenn questioned. There was a short silence before Jon answered.

 

“He died.”

 

“How?”

 

Another span of silence. “I put an arrow through his heart.” What. An. Idiot.

 

“He saved him from dying the most painful death possible.” Alethia countered as Wildlings were already grabbing their weapons.

 

“And we’re supposed ta believe that?” the Thenn spat, “According to the Lord of Bones, you’re a dornish Whore.”

 

“The Lord of Bones was a dumb twat.” Al replied.

 

Tormund stepped in and calmed them down. The Thenn made another threat towards Al, but she pointedly ignored him.

 

“None of you saw Mance die,” Tormund spat. “I did. The southern king who broke our army, Stannis, wanted to burn him alive to send a message. Jon Snow defied the king’s orders. His arrow was mercy. What he did took courage. And that’s what we need today. To have courage to make peace with men we’ve been killing for generations.”

 

“I lost my father, my uncle, and two brothers fighting the damn Crows,” the unnamed spearwife hissed.

 

Jon finally snapped at them then. “I’m not asking you to forget your dead! I’ll never forget mine. We lost forty-eight brothers the night that Mance attacked the Wall! But I’m asking you to think about your children, now. They’ll never have children of their own if we don’t band together. The Long Night is coming, and the dead come with it. No cold can stop him. The Free Folk can’t stop him! The Night’s Watch can’t stop him, and all the southern kings can’t stop him! Only together, all of us, and even then, it might not be enough, but at least we’ll give the fuckers a fight.”

 

It was a good fucking speech.

 

“You vouch for this man, Tormund?” the spearwife asked.

 

Tormund stared at Jon, then he said, “He’s prettier than both my daughters, but he knows how to fight. He’s young, but he knows how to lead. He didn’t have to come to Hardhome. He came because he needs us, and we need him.”

 

“And I will vouch for the she-crow.” Karsi added in her quiet way.

 

“My ancestors would spit on me if I broke bread with a Crow,” the Thenn growled.

 

“So would mine,” the spearwife admitted. “But fuck ‘em, they’re dead.” She walked up to Jon and sighed. “I’ll never trust a man in black.” Her head turned to Tormund.

 

“But I trust you, Tormund. If you say this is the way, we’re with you.”

 

Tormund spoke to all of them then. “This is the way.”

 

For a split second, Alethia was reminded of the Mandalorian.

 

“I’m with Tormund,” another wildling said. “At least with King Crow, there’s a chance.”

 

“If you want your children to survive, we have to get them to board the ships now. We’ve already wasted enough time as it is. If you ask me, I think it would be best for the spearwives to make sure Stannis’ soldiers don’t desert. Slap ‘em if they get too panicked. You.” Alethia pointed at the Thenn.

 

He nodded, showing that he was listening. “Hold the fucking gate and make sure not one of those dead fuckers gets through when they come to get us.”

 

“When?” a deep voice above them questioned. Alethia craned her head back and saw Wun Wun the giant.

 

“Yes, when. They’re coming, they’re almost here and I don’t have time to explain. Not if you don’t want more people to die. More of your people.” Alethia added, marching out of the hut to begin the evacuation.

 

She thanked the higher powers that the Wildlings cooperated.

 

The first few ships were already returning when a cold wind pierced Alethia.

 

“They’re coming.” She told Tormund.

 

“CLOSE THE BLOODY GATE!” the man yelled, cupping his hands in front of his mouth. Immediately, there was a rushed clamour at the boats, but Alethia saw Edd reinstate order and focused back on the gate.

 

With more wildlings being equipped with Dragonglass, they had a minimal chance of saving more people, Alethia hoped.

 

The dying screams were worse than anything Alethia could’ve imagined, yet she almost fell to her knees as she saw the last child board the boat.

 

“KARSI!” Alethia yelled at the woman readying a dagger.

 

“What?”

 

“Get on the boat! Your daughters need you!”

 

“I am an elder, I will fight.” She replied. Then, Alethia saw her turn to the still unnamed spearwife to her left and kiss the woman goodbye. This was her wife then.

 

“NIGHTS WATCH WITH ME!” Jon yelled from a few boats away as the wights charged through the gates. Grimly, Alethia fell into formation next to Edd and drew her sword. Time to find out if this thing will kill the dead.

 

Alethia dared to spare a last glance at Morgan circling overhead.

 

Alethia could not believe her luck as a wight immediately died when she lightly sliced at it.

 

She cut through the things, keeping them away from the boats and slowly losing her brothers to the fight. Alethia lost count as she sliced through frozen tendril, bone, and flesh.

 

It reminded her of that one time that Gordon Ramsay had disassembled a chicken blindfolded. What was it with all the pop culture references today?

 

Her arm got heavier and heavier as Alethia sliced at yet another corpse. She had managed to protect the boats with the spearwives so far, when she saw Jon fall back, dueling a White Walker.

 

The spearwives didn’t have dragonglass, but a normal wight would be incapacitated like a human being. Alethia had to make sure that the White Walkers didn’t get through their lines.

 

Lucky thing that she had a half-Valyrian-Steel sword.

 

She rushed forward with renewed energy and fought through the masses of bodies, trying to find Jon. Finally, Alethia made it to the hut. She breathed in the silence from the inferno raging outside and looked around. But Jon was not there.

 

Quickly, she ran out of the hut and spotted Jon behind it, parrying the blows from a Walker. Something was wrong.

 

And then Alethia finally noticed what it was: his swordhand was hanging limply to the side, incapacited by a huge gash on his forearm. Jon was desperately trying to block with his wrong hand. This is not the canon! Alethia frowned and ran towards them as quietly as she dared.

 

Jon seemed to notice her a split second before she drove her sword into the Walker’s back. And when it turned around, Alethia knew she had royally fucked up.

 

The Walker was beginning to crumble where she had stabbed him, but the process was happening too slowly.

 

With a cold smile, the beast turned and raised his spear. Alethia tried to step backwards as the Walker drove his spear right into her stomach.

Notes:

Sorry not sorry about the cliffhanger, the next chapter is already done, but where's the fun in posting it now?

Chapter 39: Hardhome, pt. 2

Notes:

Just came home from the theatres and watching Black Widow and good Lord, that movie was glorious... the plot twist were just... UGH GO WATCH IT!!!

TW: death, gore, blood, two shady deus ex machinas that save Jon

Jon’s POV:

 

Somewhere inside of him, Jon found the strength to thrust his blade into the Walkers back. Despite it shattering to a million pieces, he lunged forward, to Alethia.

 

Every part of the Walker had disappeared, and that included his spear. Jon stared in horror as he looked at the hole in Al’s stomach.

 

“Oh.” She whispered, before falling to her knees.

 

Jon picked her up instantly, attempting to carry her to the boats, but fell when the injury in his arm protested.

 

“I’m gonna get you to a maester.” He promised, trying to stop the blood spilling from Alethia’s wound with his hand.

 

“So… cold.” Alethia croaked out, and Jon noticed the blood beginning to freeze.

 

“It’s gonna be fine, I’ll find someone to fix you up.”

 

“I don’t want to die.” Alethia said, tears forming in her eyes. “Please Jon, I’m scared.”

 

“You won’t die. I promise.”

 

“Please don’t let me die Jon.” She pleaded, her face going white from the blood loss. Her tears froze on her face. He held her best as he could, attempting to drag her to a boat. When he looked at her face again, it was paler than the snow. She broke his heart with her next words.

 

“Please Jon, I want to go home. I just want to go home.” She begged, before she went limp in his arms. Jon panicked. This couldn’t be it! He frantically grabbed her wrist.

 

I never told her how much I love her. He thought. Finally, Jon found her pulse. Somehow, he didn’t know how, she was still alive.

 

When a dead wight fell onto him, Jon’s head shot up and he saw the Wildlings and Men of the Watch fall back to the last three rowboats.

 

“Leave her, Jon. Can’t save the girl now.” Tormund said, and Jon saw the grief in his eyes.

 

“She isn’t dead! Her heart’s still beating!” Jon protested, feeling like a little boy. Tormund raised an eyebrow, but when he saw Jon’s wound, he said nothing more and scooped Al up into his arms, running for the shore.

 

But Tormund was exhausted too, and soon, the man began falling while carrying Al. Jon prayed, and his prayers must have been heard because the giant ran up next to him.

 

“I. Take. Traveler.” He managed and picked up Alethia, holding her in his palm like she weighed nothing more than a pebble. Jon’s somehow then managed to stumble on a boat, almost falling, but Edd caught him.

 

“Where’s Al?” the man asked, and Jon could only point at the giant wading in next to them. He saw her figure, head lolling side to side.

 

“She ain’t dead.” Tormund said. “That girl’s hard to kill.”

 

They turned back to face the shore. That was when Jon saw him, the Night King. All around him lay the dead, but when Jon looked closer, he saw a small body still moving in the monster’s hand. A gray raven.

 

The Night King held it until it ceased all movement. Then, he dropped Alethia’s raven to the ground. It was dead. Without emotion, he stared at the boats. Jon felt the air around him become even colder as he raised his arms and the corpses with him.

 

They began to move, jerking and standing up, eerily quiet. Somehow, all the boats had stopped rowing towards the boats and the passengers stared at the corpses that were rising. Jon felt his hackles rise as he stared into the unnaturally blue eyes of the woman Alethia had talked to in her foreign language before.

 

Jon turned away and signaled the soldier to row. He had to get Al to a healer, and soon.

 

 

Alethia’s POV (yes, she’s alive bestie):

 

Alethia groaned as she opened her eyes. Her mouth was dry, and she shuddered as she began to remember her gruesome dream. Had she been in Westeros? Jon Snow himself had been holding her as she’d died.

 

Her eyes snapped open, taking in the room she was inside. It was strange, completely wooden with antique funeral and, was that an oil lamp? Was the room swaying? Had she ended up with the theatre kids and taken copious amounts of drugs?

 

She got up and walked to the door. Where the hell was her mom? Alethia reached forward to open it when a stabbing pain seared through her gut. She screamed as the pain teared through her and sank to her knees. Alethia stared at her hand, covered in blood when she brought it back to her face.

 

This was real. Alethia remembered. Her bloody hand reached up to the doorknob and she stumbled out into a small hallway. Was she back on a ship? Were they done with Hardhome?

 

Alethia stumbled and almost fell again as she supported herself on the cabin wall. She only had to make it to the deck.

 

“Are you the she-crow?” Alethia whirled around as quickly as she dared, hand curling into a fist. She lowered it as she saw the little girl. Her hair was red. Kissed by the fire. She knew people that were kissed by the fire. They were her friends, right?

 

Alethia opened her mouth to answer, but as she saw the black spots form at the edges of her vision, she knew it was no good. The last thing she saw was the little girl run off. Alethia guessed she was calling for help but everything was so muffled-

 

 

The next time she woke up, Al kept her eyes closed for a few more seconds. The memories came back to her now. Maybe it would’ve been better if she’d died on that beach.

 

Her bed wasn’t swaying anymore. Her fingers moved slightly, and she thought she recognized the hand. As she opened her eyes, she recognized Jon’s figure. His head was bent, and he was staring at his lap.

 

“Your dick isn’t going to grow no matter how long you look at it.” She croaked. His head snapped up and his eyes filled with relief.

 

“You have a terrible sense of humor, Al.” he choked out, sounding more injured than she did.

 

Alethia attempted to get out of bed, but Jon was having none of it. He propped up a pillow and Alethia sighed a breath of relief as she leaned against it carefully.

 

“My, aren’t we fancy.” She croaked again, happy to see Jon smile.

 

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, Al.” he begged her.

 

“Only,” Alethia began, but her wheezing had turned to a fit of coughs and Jon held a cup of water to her lips, which she gulped down. “Only if you don’t get yourself shot by your lover.” She finished, feeling Jon’s warm hand on her cheek. She leaned into it a little, savoring the moment.

 

Jon got off his chair and half-knelt next to her bedside.

 

“That’ll be entirely up to you.” He replied. Alethia stared at him for a second, processing his words. She cupped his face and attempted to pull him down to her.

 

It felt like an eternity, but then his lips were on hers. Alethia kissed him as hard as he dared, trying to hold on to him. She noticed his split lip and ignored it, trying to lean into Jon, into the warmth, even more.

 

When they parted, Al knew it had been too short. She gasped for air. Jon seemed to look at her with nothing but love. She could’ve cried with relief when she did not find guilt in his eyes. No guilt, despite him breaking his vows. Butterflies were an understatement, she felt like every part of her was alive.

 

Her hand slid back into his. They were comfortable in the silence for a little while, until Alethia dared to speak.

 

“You’re so,” she stopped, not finding the words. He raised his eyebrows. “Warm.” Alethia felt disappointed at her choice of words. But it felt right, and she threw her disappointment out of the window.

 

“This is the first time I’ve been warm since I’ve come to this hell of a world.” She confessed. Jon’s breath hitched, and even with her blurry vision, she noticed his eyes turning considerably darker.

 

“Kiss me again.” She demanded hungrily. Alethia felt like she was starving, and she knew she needed more. Jon obliged and leaned down to kiss her again. She closed her eyes and let him hold her. His hand slid to the small of her back, stopping her from falling back into the cushion and she slowly let Jon gain more control.

 

Alethia felt the fire inside of her become warmer and warmer. She held Jon close and when they broke apart this time, there was no urgency in her breath. Her forehead rested against his and Alethia could smell the herbs on him for a few moments. Had he helped patch her up?

 

When they both heard the footsteps approach, Alethia gave a groan. “I think I will commit murder.” Jon sighed, letting go of Al as slowly as he could.

 

Al kept her eyes closed, reveling in the bliss the kiss had brought her when the door opened and someone with heavy footfall entered.

 

“That old knight wants to talk to ya.” Tormund’s voice boomed, uncomfortably loud in the small chamber. “She awake yet?” he asked.

 

“Not yet.” Jon lied and Al felt something that wasn’t quite pride bloom in her chest. Did he just lie for her? “Tell him he must wait a little while longer.” Alethia wasn’t sure if Tormund had agreed to that, but eventually, the door closed again.

 

“You’re in trouble, Snow.”

 

“I’m the Lord Commander, Dennis Mallister can wait. B’sides, I’m only in trouble if they catch me kissing you.” He said, his voice low and husky. Alethia felt his lips on hers again, but much shorter than she would’ve liked.

 

“Go save the world Jon.” She told him when she opened her eyes.

 

“Only for you, love.” He replied.

 

“You say that to every girl you meet?” she asked, and Jon laughed.

 

“I don’t like repeating myself. Mind if I send in the maester?”

 

“No. Good that we refrained from any strenuous activity, eh?” Alethia teased and smirked when she saw a blush crawl up Jon’s neck.

 

“Don’t torture the poor man, he only arrived from the citadel a few weeks ago.”

 

“I won’t. Pinky promise.”

 

Jon looked at her a little longer. “I’ll bring you supper.” He said, leaving the door slightly ajar.

 

 

Jon’s POV:

 

Jon barely managed to round the corner when he saw Tormund leisurely pacing up and down the corridor.

 

“Those were some long few fuckin’ minutes.” The ginger told him.

 

“I was just making sure my steward was comfortable.” Jon shrugged lightly.

 

“Sure, you were.” Tormund smirked. Then he leaned down to him. “If you break her heart, I’ll cut off your cock and feed it to the goats.”

 

“Noted. But I do think she’d get that done herself.” Jon replied, already walking up to where the Commander’s office was.

 

He thought about Alethia. Suddenly, he felt the urge to turn back and stop the Maester from examining her. She was his and- Jon stopped himself.

 

Still, the thought of her body did things to her. He wondered what it would feel like if she ran her hands along his back, nails raking until they left marks…

 

This time, Jon consciously pushed the thought from his mind. He couldn’t walk into the Commander’s office with a tent in his pants.

 

Still, while the old man was talking, Jon barely heard him, his thoughts straying back to his Al.

 

 

 

That night, Jon fell asleep on the chair next to Alethia’s bed, Ghost curled up in front of the door. His last thought before he slept was of her.

 

She said I was her warmth.

Notes:

So, in abt the last month Al has:
o Killed orell and his raven.
o Almost died while fighting a rapist and murderer (and getting that bad haircut)
o Almost lost jon bc he’s a dumbass.
o Gotten on Ser Alliser’s bad side.
o Lost her brothers, Grenn and Pyp.
o While also sustaining some nasty injuries
o Had Tormund attempt to kill her twice and call her a witch, a traitor and a bitch.
o Gotten on Melisandre’s bad side.
o Lost all respect from most men of the Watch
o Planned and committed high treason.
o Lost her grandfather-figure/mentor, Aemon Targaryen.
o Said goodbye to her other brother sam, knowing that they’ll be apart for at least a year.
o Gotten stabbed in the gut and found out that she’s basically Achilles.
o had the raven she named after her ex-girlfriend and first love get ripped apart (literally) by the night king.
o Then failed to save karsi/katerina.
o Is still in huge amounts of pain from receiving what could’ve been a lethal injury.
But hey, at least she got that kiss.

Also, I attempted to write romance, focus being on attempted and this is my first time writing anything like this so if it’s bad, please, please tell me. I honestly have no idea if this is alright…

Chapter 40: Fuck the Lord of Light and fuck traumatized children

Summary:

We return to Castle Black and witness two hormonal teenagers dancing around each other. Davos comes back for more supplies, Jon dies, Melisandre comes back after a dubious sacrifice.

Notes:

TW: blood, death, gore, vomit, attempted rape/sexual assault (what a handful)

Alethia felt the cart rattle as it bumped over another stone and grit her teeth. When she’d seen her wound the first time at Eastwatch-by-the-sea, she’d almost passed out again. There had been an actual hole in her stomach, as in, she could put three fingers in, and they came out of her back.

 

No one had any idea how she had survived that and Alethia had been theorizing herself, when she noticed the pace of her recovery. The skin had begun to grow inward from the rim of the injury, only leaving an angry, red scar. When she saw the process, it reminded her of Deadpool.

 

Alethia was happy with that though, the guy had been a pansexual, immortal, funny guy with too much trauma. Who wouldn’t want to be like him? Well, maybe you had to lose all your innocence in the face of death first.

 

By the time they left the Castle two days later to ride for her home, the wound hadn’t closed and Jon and Edd insisted that she sat on the cart. So now, Alethia was surrounded by screaming kids.

 

She almost wished for mortality as the first fight between two broke out, but after a while, most of them fell asleep from exhaustion.

 

Like the little girl whose head was resting on her shoulder. Her hair was kissed by the fire and Al foggily remembered that she’d been the one to get help when she collapsed on the ship.

 

Before the girl had fallen asleep, Al had found out her name was Natasha and that she was Karsis’ kid. She’d also found out that Karsi was dead.

 

Her wife had hidden her grief well, holding their three-year-old daughter in her arms as she tried to console Natasha. In the end, Nat had found Al and jumped into her arms. Al had held the girl as best she could and let her fall asleep on her shoulders.

 

Alethia watched the Wildling column behind her, making up stories about warriors, mothers, healers. It was much more interesting than consistently staring at the Wall next to her. Finally, they arrived at Castle Black and the gate.

 

They stood there for at least ten minutes and Al began to worry that they wouldn’t let them in, leave them to die, when the gate creaked at Yarwick’s command, and the column was let through.

 

Jon, Edd and Tormund entered first. Al heard the whispers when they noticed her missing at the head of the column. It wounded her pride to sit with a cart and the children. So, when the column came to another halt in the tunnel, she carefully let Nat rest against the side of the cart and got off very slowly.

 

She stumbled through the tunnel, letting her hands guide her. Jon had been right, riding on a horse would’ve killed her. Or whatever it was that was closest to death now.

 

When she finally saw the light of the sun burning onto the snow, she was relieved to see the men re-sheath their swords. Alethia stumbled a little more without the support of the tunnel, but then Edd was there, supporting her.

 

It wasn’t that she minded him, she just would’ve preferred Jon.

 

Though she wanted to stay and help, Jon actually commanded Edd to bring her up to the infirmary, making her rest. She supposed it didn’t hurt to rest for just a little…

 

***

 

When she woke up, the infirmary had filled substantially and Edd, Daemon and Satin were trying their best to treat the wounded.

 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Al asked very loudly. They all jumped and turned around at her voice.

 

“The Lord Commander said you needed to rest.” Satin defended.

 

“Yeah, well the Lord Commander can suck it.” Al grumbled under her breath, too quiet for them to hear.

 

“At least let me give you some instructions. I’m very well rested. Get me a chair and let me sit next to the injured, I can help you and them then.”

 

They looked at each other, and finally, they seemed to decide that it was alright to let her help. The first man they brought her to was writhing in pain. They all looked like they wanted to flee the room.

 

“Who of you can read best?” she asked in their direction, assessing the situation. Satin volunteered and went of to find Milk of the Poppy on the shelf Al had told him to look.

 

“Edd, what the hell happened here?”

 

“His leg got crushed under flying wood. He’s still got a lot of it in his leg.”  He told her, looking considerably pale. Finally, Satin returned with the drug and Al gave the man as much as she dared.

 

“Okay, Edd, Daemon begin to pull out the splinters. Pretend you’re cutting some meat and don’t want to ruin the fillet. Same here, don’t pull or push against the structure of the muscle.” She instructed and they began following her words. They were doing… alright.

 

“Satin, I trust you to have precise hands, get some tweezers from the drawer over there and begin to pull out smaller splinters.”

 

After a while, they had finished their first patient. Following Al’s instructions, the four of them treated the first round of patients, clearing those that were healed and getting a steady flow of new injured. Sometime in between all the wounded, a spearwife asked for something to calm the children and Al prescribed some nightshade while the men set their third bone.

 

At the end of it, Daemon had only thrown up twice and Edd was as pale as snow. Satin however, seemed completely unfazed. He was good, having done most of the complicated things.

 

“You’d make a good healer or maester, you know.” Alethia told him at the end of their workday and Satin smiled with pride while Daemon walked down into the courtyard to dispose of his vomit.

 

The infirmary emptied a little as the sun set, only the man with the splinters and those with broken bones or worse remaining. Alethia sighed and washed her hands in a basin.

 

“I thought I specifically commanded you to rest.” Jon said. Alethia turned around and saw him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

 

“And I did. But then this guy here started screaming and Edd looked like a ghost. Besides, I just told them what to do. Daemon is currently throwing his own vomit in the latrines.”

 

Jon chuckled and crossed the room until he sat in the chair across from her. “Just don’t overwork yourself, yeah?”

 

“I won’t, promise.” Al replied and took his hand, which was free of the sling.

 

“You terrify me, you know.” Jon said, smiling. He looked out of the window facing away from the Wall. Alethia followed his eyes and looked at the sunset.

 

“Love is the scariest thing in the world.” She replied, watching the sun turn the sky gold and pink. It wouldn’t set completely, but this was still beautiful.

 

“Davos wants to speak to you.” Jon told her quietly.

 

“Way to ruin the mood.” Al replied teasingly but nodded and Jon helped her finish her work before disappearing to get the knight.

 

***

 

Ser Davos entered the infirmary with his typical quiet footfall and Alethia offered him a chair.

 

“Stannis sent me to get more supplies for the army. I left right before the battle and not before Melisandre made her sacrifice.”

 

Alethia’s stomach sunk. “Who?”

 

“Selyse Baratheon. And twenty soldiers.” Davos replied, staring at nothing.

 

“Oh. Poor Shireen. Why?”

 

“Melisandre said something about her being a traitor, an unbeliever. I saw half of the men desert as I left for Castle Black.”

 

“You can stay here. I’ll get you to Shireen when I’ve made a recovery.” Alethia promised. The old knight nodded and got up to leave. Carefully, Alethia walked to her own room. She closed her eyes to fall asleep, but she couldn’t. Alethia felt like she was forgetting something. It was connected to Davos’ arrival…

 

Her eyes flew open as she heard light footsteps in the infirmary.

 

Olly.

 

As the door opened, Al closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. The door closed soon after and Alethia stayed still, just in case.

 

Then she heard the boy’s voice in the infirmary. “She’s asleep.” He said, before he left the infirmary. If there had been a second person in the room, it must’ve been an experienced ranger.

 

An experienced ranger. Ser Alliser Thorne was an experienced ranger, but it would’ve been suspicious for him to enter the room of an injured woman. So, he’d sent Olly. The old knight didn’t want her to get into the crossfire of the mutiny, Alethia realized tiredly, trying to go back to sleep.

 

The mutiny!

 

Olly was on his way to Jon. Perhaps she could still save Jon and Olly. No, the boy had made his choice. But Jon…

 

Alethia got up and dressed quickly. The hole in her stomach was considerably smaller, only two fingers wide. She grabbed Lucifer and her dagger from the nightstand and snuck out of her room.

 

She hobbled towards Jon’s office, but when she finally made it, it was empty. The voices of Olly and Jon echoed up the stairwell and Alethia basically let herself fall down the stairs to stop him. Finally, she caught up with them, but Jon was already standing in front of the cross, reading the inscription.

 

He turned around and the first dagger stabbed into him.

 

“NO!” Alethia screamed and drew her sword. Every single one of the mutineers turned around, but she ignored him and stared at the dagger embedded in his stomach.

 

“Al.” Jon called, and she stumbled forward, toward him. She felt her knees give out an pulled herself up with the railing. She cursed the black spots at the edges of her vision. Thorne turned around and pulled the dagger out.

 

“For the Watch.” He said, letting two more stab Jon.

 

Alethia choked on her scream as she watched him go to his knees, not caring if they saw her tears. What if Melisandre didn’t make it? That was the thing she worried about.

 

“Escort Lady Black to her chambers and make sure she stays there.” Thorne commanded the two that had already stabbed Jon. Alethia sobbed and got into fighting stance. She barely managed to hack at them as they restrained her.

 

Alethia desperately kicked and bit them, but it was no use. When one of them punched her into her wound, she began slipping in and out of consciousness.

 

As she became more lucid, she noticed the gag in her mouth. Alethia struggled against the grip of the men and searched for something in the dark infirmary to help her. She cursed herself for not wearing the strengthened stay, for not wearing any stay at all, only the binding the maester had made at Eastwatch.

 

All she could do was make the lives of these two traitors as hard as she could. So Alethia kicked and bit and screamed, but it was no use. One of them threw her on her bed and Al wanted to give up. But then a horror overcame her as he began pulling at her pants, laughing.

 

“The ones in Mole’s Town never give a fight.” He complained to his comrade and tugged again. Alethia kicked him square in the chest and he slapped her in return. The other man began to hold her legs down and Alethia began to panic.

 

They had already removed her first pants and were continuing with her belt when she remembered her dagger. Blindly, Al grabbed down and curled her hand around the handle, slashing at the man’s cheek.

 

He yowled and let her go for a moment, but the other man disarmed her and bound her hand.

 

Alethia felt his grimy hand slide under her shirt and squirmed away, but he grabbed her roughly by the waist. Finally, she managed to get rid of the gag and tried to scream, but the man clapped a hand over her mouth.

 

Alethia bit down hard, but the man didn’t let go, so she took a finger in her mouth and bit until it crunched.

 

He let go and put her gag back in, cradling his broken finger.

 

“Filthy little bitch.” The man snarled, but Alethia was too occupied with kicking the other man away. When he leaned down to spit in her face, Alethia headbutted him. A blinding pain ran through her, and the man retaliated with a punch to her eye.

 

Alethia thought he’d finally let off, but she felt his hands close around her neck. She knew that this could kill her, but not being able to breathe was so, so much worse. Alethia clawed at her neck as the other man removed another layer. This fabric was the last thing stopping him.

 

Alethia began to lose consciousness, struggling against what would happen if she didn’t fight and felt the tip of a knife against her thigh as the fabric was cut open. A hand was on her thigh, sliding up too quickly.

 

She felt her eyes closed when suddenly, something wet spattered against her face. Then, the pressure from her neck was gone.

 

Al gasped for air and looked around disoriented. Her room was a mess, thrown over furniture and two dead men. She regretted giving the wildlings that much painkiller.

 

Had Jon saved her? No, she’d seen him die. She looked up and saw the face of the last man she wanted to have in her room now.

 

Alliser Thorne stared at the corpses as he cleaned his sword. “Get out you traitor.” Al spat, blood flying from her mouth. Thorne said nothing, gathering the corpses and staring at Alethia.

 

Before he left her room, Thorne threw her a rag. He pointed at her face, but Alethia knew she wouldn’t clean away the evidence. She waited until Thorne was gone and pulled up her undershirt. Her wound had reopened a little, but this was the least of her worries. She grabbed a mirror and looked at herself.

 

Her lip was split open, her eye beginning to bruise, and red marks were around her neck. A cut on her thigh was bleeding and her arms were chafed from the ropes that had bound her. She was surprised she wasn’t missing any teeth.

 

Al felt dazed as she hurled her supper into the corner of her room. She wanted to draw a bath but stopped the notion where it was. Instead, she got her battle clothes and attempted to put them on. Alethia searched her room for Lucifer but soon realized that Thorne must have taken it.

 

When she looked under her bed however, she found her dagger lying there. She grabbed into her chest and pulled out the knife Jon had given her at Winterfell. After hurling her guts out one last time, she stumbled into the corridor once more.

 

Alethia barely made it three steps when Davos came running at her. “Jon is dead.” He told her.

 

When he saw her face, he drew in a breath sharply. “I know. Get Edd, Tormund and Satin and bring Jon’s body to the office. And Ghost too.” Alethia stumbled into the infirmary and got whatever she needed to treat her injuries, she wouldn’t leave Jon.

 

As she stumbled over the empty courtyard, a single horse with a dark figure rode into the castle.

 

“You!” Alethia gasped. Melisandre had come.

 

“Don’t threaten me girl.” Melisandre warned, but her backwards steps betrayed her fear.

 

“Bring your horse to the stable and come to Jon’s office. Let’s see if your god is any good. If you bring back Jon, I’ll keep my mouth shut about the murders you committed.” Alethia warned. To her surprise, the woman nodded and disappeared into the stables.

 

When Alethia finally entered Jon’s office, everyone was already there. They all gasped at her face, which Al was sure only looked worse now that it had time to swell.

 

“I’m gonna kill those- “Tormund began, but Al interrupted him.

 

“Find something to bar the door. The Red Woman is the only one were letting in, get it? Tormund, go get the Free Folk. I want those bastards to be brought to justice.” Alethia commanded, and to her surprise, Tormund left immediately.

 

When Edd opened his mouth, Alethia shut him up too. “Don’t ask.” Instead, she took a basin and a cloth and began to take off Jon’s top. Everyone looked away uncomfortably-

 

“Oh come on. I won’t fuck his corpse. I just don’t want him to be bloody when we bury him.” Relief flooded the room and Alethia began to clean the cuts, ignoring that everyone here had considered the possibility. She had just gotten the blood away from the first cut when Melisandre entered the room.

 

“Can you do it?” Alethia asked her, and Davos seemed to realize her plan.

 

"I can try.” Melisandre replied. Her fingers touched Jon’s cheek and Alethia felt jealousy flare inside of her.

 

“I saw him in the flames,” she told herself “Fighting at Winterfell.”

 

“I can’t speak for the flames,” Davos replied, lighting a brazier “But he’s gone.”

 

Finally, Melisandre took her hand from Jon’s face. Then, she left the room and shut the door. It felt like the loudest thing in the world, and Al was worried that things had fallen out of place because of her.

 

Davos groaned like the old man he was as he settled into the chair next to her. She was reminded of Aemon but pushed the thought away. Now was not the time.

 

Suddenly, Davos said plainly. “Thorne will have made it official by now: Castle Black is his.”

 

“I don’t care who sits at the high table,” Edd snarled, standing up. “Jon was my friend. And those fuckers butchered him. Now we return the favor.”

 

“We don’t have the numbers,” Davos firmly reminded.

 

“We have a dire wolf,” Edd argued, “and we have Al, she survived a spear to the stomach!” He pointed to her.

 

“I’m in no condition to fight Edd. Two men just tried to rape me and did all this. I don’t even know the extent of my own injuries!” she confessed. Edd fell silent and stared at his feet. “We need to wait till we have more men.”

 

“But we don’t have more men.” Edd exclaimed.

 

“Why the hell did you think I sent Tormund away? He’s our best fighter but he speaks for the Free Folk and they all owe their lives to Jon.”

 

A silence fell over the room as they waited for Thorne to come and kill them all. Alethia tried to busy herself by treating her wounds. Her hand gripped her knife as someone cleared their throat next to her.

 

Satin looked at her with kind eyes. “I’m sorry about what happened. I know what it’s like. Do you want me to help?” he asked quietly. Alethia nodded and closed her eyes in relief for just a second.

 

It seemed like an eternity ago, but Al had taught him all he did now just a few hours ago. And she hadn’t lied, Satin was good at what he was doing.

 

Melisandre didn’t return in the morning. She didn’t return when Alliser Thorne and his men came knocking. Al regretted letting her go. She still didn’t come when the sun sank and Thorne promised to let Davos go and give Al a fair trial. She snorted; Thorne could stick his trial up his ass.

 

Al barely jumped when the men began to hack at the door. She handed Edd Longclaw and took his rather blunt sword for herself. Satin held a dagger tightly and Davos and Daemon held their own swords.

 

They had managed to create a small hole in the door when Al heard the battle cries of the Free Folk. Amidst it all, she heard a familiar voice yell a command.

 

“Spearwives, fight!” Karsi’s wife commanded, and she heard their spears clash with the steel of the swords. Finally, finally, Tormund returned.

 

“Davos, you’re coming with me to get that witch.” Al told him, her voice hurting her throat. They didn’t have to walk for long when Melisandre met them in a hallway. She looked so tired and confused, Al’s heart almost broke for her. Almost.

 

“You were right. Stannis wasn’t the prince who was promised.” The woman told her. “So you think it’s Jon Snow?” she asked Al.

 

“Most likely.” Alethia answered, just in case.

 

***

 

Melisandre took the rag from the basin filled with red water and finished scrubbing Jon down.  Alethia had helped her undress Jon, constantly feeling a blush rise to her cheeks. Now, Jon was lying on the table with only a cloth covering his junk.

 

 

Melisandre stood at his body and stared for a little Al squeezed her hand and finally, the woman began chanting the Valyrian prayer. She cut a lock of his hair, poured water over his head, and kept chanting.

 

 

When she stopped, nothing happened. Melisandre stopped and finished with a begging ‘please’. Alethia knew that plea at least, she had begged for her own life only a few days ago. Still nothing happened.

 

 

Defeated, the priestess left the room. Soon, Edd and Tormund followed suit and Daemon and Satin seemed happy for a reason to leave. Davos lingered a little longer. He put a hand on Al’s shoulder. Then, he left too.

 

 

Alethia was alone with Ghost now. The direwolf went to sleep soon after everyone left. But Alethia couldn’t sleep. Exhaustion filled her limbs like metal and weighed her down, but somehow, she still couldn’t doze off.

 

 

She pulled her chair to Jon’s side and for the first time in her life, she prayed in complete seriousness. She prayed to whoever would listen. She repeated the words over and over in her mind.

 

 

Please, please let him live.

 

 

The sun set over Castle Black and Alethia began to lose hope. Somewhere, in all of this mess, something had gone wrong and now Jon would stay dead. All thanks to her. Al stared at the wounds still standing out against his skin.

 

 

When she grabbed his hand, it was as cold as the spear that had entered her. The warmth was gone. Silent tears began running down her face, but she kept holding his big hand in both of hers, praying again. If you won’t let him live, whoever you are, then please let him be happy on the other side. He’s felt enough pain already. Don’t make him suffer in death too.

Notes:

Yes, we did that. Yes, Olly is still a dumb kid with one too many issues. Yes, I have three more chapters already finished. Enjoyyy :)

Chapter 41: Hope fucking sucks when it’s desperate and you’re all alone in it

Summary:

See for yourselves

Notes:

TW: violence, death, the usual stuff

 

I've already written 40. Fucking. Chapters. Of this bullshit. Never thought I’d be writing anything this long, much less a fanfiction but here we are. I’ve been writing this absolute crack for more than half a year, y’all have been reading it for about that time. My braincells have been compromised while going over the first chapters and I’m sure yours have been too. I sincerely apologize, and now enjoy more trauma and more angst. Don’t worry, Al actually laughs this chapter! I think...

Alethia let her vision become blurry and focused on Jon’s hand. Maybe it was better if she left now. It wasn’t any good. She let herself focus on Jon’s face in the dark room. This was going to be the last time she’d see him alone.

 

Al stood, slightly bending towards Jon when suddenly, he gasped for air. Alethia fell back into her chair. Jon sat up, looking at his scars, not having seen Al yet. He looked around disoriented when finally, he saw Alethia.

 

“Al?” he asked, voice rough. Alethia made a sound that was something between a laugh and a sob. Afterwards, she wasn’t even sure if she’d be able to make that sound again.

 

“I’m right here Jon.” She replied, giving him his cloak, and wrapping it around him as he stumbled into her arms. “I’m right here.” She repeated.

 

Jon sunk to the floor, shaking. “They killed me.” He whispered, “Olly put a knife in my heart.” He stared up at her and Alethia wanted to do something to stop the hurt in his eyes.

 

“You were there.” He said quietly. “I saw you.”

 

His hand reached up to her face and brushed a strand of hair away, grazing the bruise that had formed around her eyes.

 

“I’m gonna kill ‘em for what they did to you.” He told her.

 

“They tried. I put up a damn good fight.” Al said, allowing herself a slight smile.

 

“I shouldn’t be here.” Jon said, sounding afraid. Alethia sunk down until she was on eyelevel with him. She said nothing, but when Jon put his head on her shoulder to cry, she held him close.

 

After some time, Jon calmed down and Al sat him down on a chair. There was a knock on the door and they both flinched.

 

“Alethia? It’s time we burn ‘im.” Davos called through the door. “I’m sorry.” He added in an afterthought.

 

Alethia was about to say something when Jon called out. “Come in.”

 

The door opened and Davos strode in, together with Melisandre. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw an alive Jon sit on a chair, huddled in his cloak. Melisandre stood, aghast at her own power.

 

“Melisandre brought you back.” Davos explained and gestured at the priestess. At her name, she seemed to wake from her paralyzed state and practically ran across the room. She knelt before Jon.

 

“What did you see when you were dead?” she asked him. Alethia saw his eyes grow wide in horror.

 

“Nothing. I- There was just nothing.” He replied shakily.

 

“You were dead,” Davos told him. “And now you’re not. It’s completely fucking mad seems to me. I can only imagine how it seems to you.”

 

Jon wasn’t a commanding Lord or a man that inspired fear anymore. He looked scared, terrified and Alethia felt her wound act up when she thought of his pain.

 

“I…I did what I thought was right,” Jon confessed. Tears glistened in his eyes. “And I got murdered for it. And now I’m back

 

He sobbed. “Why?”

 

“Because…” Alethia trailed off “Because there are very few men that are actually good. You’re good Jon. I don’t know how. But you’re good and you gotta keep fighting for what’s right, okay?”

 

Jon shook his head and he stopped crying. “I don’t know how to do that. I thought I did. I failed.”

 

“Good,” Davos said. “Now go fail again. Clean up some more shit while you’re at it, too.”

 

Alethia smiled again. “Now, I’ll go get you some clothes.” Davos had left the room when Al returned. “I’m the only who gets to see you naked, so you better put these on and make your entrance in them, kay?”

 

Jon smiled a little too. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

 

***

 

Soon after, Jon Snow made his entrance (wearing a nice doublet) and coldly sentenced the mutineers to die. They were going to be hanged the next day and Alethia didn’t feel sorry for most of them. Only two people did she not want dead: Olly and Ser Alliser.

 

The boy hadn’t cried when his sentence had been delivered, but he was afraid of death, Alethia could tell. Thorne however, his lips became even thinner, if that was possible. He said nothing as they were escorted to their cells.

 

It was dark as Alethia left her room. She glanced around in the quiet infirmary, mindlessly touching her face. The bruise on her eye was fading and so were the marks around her neck, but the cut on her thigh would leave a scar.

 

No matter. She strode out of the infirmary quietly and waited until a guard had passed her. Then, Alethia snuck into the cellar where the cells were. The guard there was already snoring, thanks to a mixture of sleep-inducing drugs. Alethia smiled at that and walked past him, snatching the keys as she went.

 

As leader of the mutiny, Thorne was in a separate cell from the others, which conveniently was also in another hallway. Al knew that he was the only one capable of planning such an assault, they didn’t want him doing more in his cell.

 

When she stood in front of his cell, torch in hand, he was awake and stared at her.

 

“Come to mock me, Lady Black?” he sneered.

 

“Be nice or I might change my mind.” Alethia replied, putting the torch into an empty holder.

 

“About what?” Thorne asked, more neutral this time.

 

“Getting you out. I’ll never forgive you for killing Jon, but you respected me and gave me a position according to my skills. And without you, I would’ve been raped. Seems like you can keep to your knightly duties after all.”

 

“Look where that got me.”

 

“A good position.” Alethia threw him a purse and paused. “Take that and make for the Free Cities. If you ever return, I’ll kill you personally.”

 

“Exile.” Thorne realized, playing with the thought.

 

“Better than death. Hell, better than the Watch. It’s nice and warm in the Free Cities. Join a sellsword company or something. You’re decent enough with a sword.”

 

Alliser stood. “How much money is in here?”

 

“Eight stags. Should be enough to get passage and start a life.”

 

“Why are you doing this?”

 

“Already told you. Besides, I don’t agree with the death penalty.” Alethia unlocked the door and Alliser tentatively stepped outside. She motioned for the knight to follow her and together, they made it out of the gate undetected.

 

“There’s a horse waiting for you a few miles west. Make a big loop around the Free Folk encampment and ride for White Harbor. If you don’t leave Westeros, I’ll know.”

 

Alliser nodded and began jogging. “Oh, one more thing.” Alethia added and the knight turned around. “You might want to change your name and grow a beard.”

 

Then Alethia turned around and briskly snuck back into the infirmary, praying that Jon wouldn’t take her head too if he found out.

 

***

 

The next morning, someone shook her awake. Alethia shot up a little too quickly, but recognized Jon standing at her bedside, smiling a little wider than before.

 

“Mornin’ Al.” he muttered.

 

“What do I owe this honor to?” she asked, and Jon blushed a little.

 

“Just wanted to see ya before I go deal with some of the shit around here.” Jon replied, looking at the stuff lying around her room. It occurred to Al that this was only the second time he’d been in her room. Al leaned back against her pillow, savoring a moment of what came close to domesticity.

 

“Jon?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You can leave the Watch now. You gave your life for the Watch, pass command to Edd and save Sansa, retake Winterfell.”

 

“I hadn’t thought about it that way. I will Al.” Jon promised, “One more thing Al.”

 

“Hmm?” Al murmured from her bed; eyes closed.

 

“Ser Alliser Thorne escaped from his cell in the night. Why did you free him?” he asked, voice heavy.

 

“I- “Alethia began “Theses bruises, I have them for a reason. Thorne knew I’d try to fight for you, so he had two men bring me back to my room, so I wouldn’t do anything stupid. They tried to rape me, and they would’ve if Thorne hadn’t intervened. Maybe they would’ve killed me, but that way, he executed two of his own mutineers.” Alethia stopped to look at Jon, and she thought to see some understanding.

 

“And before that, before you came back to Castle Black, he was the one who gave me the position of First Ranger. He was the one who made sure the men wouldn’t rape me while I was sleeping. I told him he would have to leave Westeros. I swore to him and myself that I would kill him on sight. I know that soon, I will be at White Harbor. If he stayed in Westeros, he’ll be there.”

 

“I should have you hanged along with the mutineers.” Jon snarled.

 

“I know. But Thorne did what he thought was right, regardless of the rules. So did I. So did you. I hate him for killing you, but I owed him a debt. This is the only way I can repay him.”

 

Jon sighed and sank down on a chair. Alethia got out of bed, and he blushed, averting his eyes.

 

“Oh, come on, I’m wearing a bloody shift.” Alethia rolled her eyes and searched for a dress in her chest. Finally, she found one, black of course. She felt comfortable as she quickly changed into a fresh shift, back turned to Jon. She picked up a stay and put it over her head. Only then did she realize it was backlaced.

 

Explains why I never wear it.

 

“Jon? Mind helping me?” Al gestured to her back.

 

Jon said nothing but came up behind her. Even without seeing him, she felt his hands shake a little and snorted. Jon tugged on the laces a little harder in response. He tied them closed and Alethia turned around, very close to his face.

 

“Thanks.” She said, patting him on the chest. Jon stared a little more at this and Al pulled the dress over her head.

 

This, she could close herself though. She watched as he picked up a brush from the tiny table. Al remembered stealing it from Sansa’s drawer one day. Seriously though, that girl had had about forty brushes.

 

“Uh,” Jon was blushing AGAIN and also stuttering, “Mind if I brush your hair?” Alethia nodded and sat in a chair. He was surprisingly good at brushing her hair.

 

“I helped Arya sometimes.” He confessed and Alethia smiled at Jon. With now steady hands, he braided her hair out of her face.

 

“You could do my hair all this time and chose to watch me gallivant around with a bird’s nest on my head for an entire morning?” Alethia exclaimed.

 

“It was adorable.” Jon replied, smiling.

 

“It was not. I am not.” Alethia replied, outraged.

 

“You are.” Jon insisted. Alethia huffed and he chuckled. “And very fierce and angry too.”

 

“Don’t forget foul-mouthed.” Alethia added.

 

“I would never.”

 

She stood and Jon offered her an arm in the boastful way she’d only see some southern Lords use at Winterfell. Alethia smacked his arm away.

 

“Ow, that’s not very ladylike.”

 

“Bite me.” Alethia replied. Jon was already opening his mouth to say a reply. Alethia’s eyes widened. “Don’t fucking say it.”

 

Jon already had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Maybe I will.”

 

This time, Alethia actually punched him. She quickly went over the wounds of those that were still in the infirmary and got the correct dosages ready, leaving them to Satin with a few scribbled instructions.

 

Together, they walked onto the courtyard. Alethia pointedly ignored Tormund waggling his eyebrows. She squeezed Jon’s hand quickly, glad that she was wearing dagged sleeves.

 

“I’m sorry Jon. You shouldn’t have to do this. And I’m sorry about letting Thorne go.”

 

“It’s alright. I think I understand.” He replied. Alethia watched as he took heavy steps towards the gallows, the left-over mutineers strung up. She saw him pause in front of Olly. Alethia looked at the boy. She wanted to stop Jon, but she stood frozen.

 

Olly met her eyes, but there was no regret showing in his eyes. Only hatred. She saw it when his eyes met those of Tormund.

 

Jon aimed at the rope and then swung, hacking it through clean. He talked to Edd, handing him the Lord Commander’s cloak. The few men of the Watch that were left began whispering among each other.

 

He pushed past them, breathing heavily. “My watch has ended.”

 

Alethia looked at him come her way. He paused in front of her and then pushed past her, inside the building. She swallowed. The grief had been apparent, but so had been the betrayal. Alethia wondered whether it was directed towards her or the mutineers. She wondered if he’d forgive her.

 

But for now, Alethia let him go. She wasn’t sure if her presence would make him feel better or worse.

 

Goddamnit, why were feelings so fucking complicated?

 

Notes:

Oof, the last few chapters have been very tough to write, but I tried my best. Just noticed that it’s kind of poetic that his last and first words were both Alethia’s nickname he made up. Ik some of y'all are gonna be real mad at me for letting Thorne go, but it had to be done.

Chapter 42: Sansa

Summary:

An absolute boss-bitch arrives at Castle Black. Fantasies about killing violent rapists are justified in this, fight me.

Notes:

TW: graphic descriptions (I think) of rape and sexual assault, violence.

 

First two chapters have been re-written and are up now.

 

I’m writing so much rn, I feel like I’m wasting my summer holidays. Should be writing something that I can make money off, but oh well. My mom is onto my trail, repeatedly calling Ao3 a ‘writers forum’. Currently praying that she doesn’t click on the vore tag on accident, or she might set my laptop on fire.

Alethia was almost alone in the courtyard. Jon was changing, Satin in the infirmary and Edd starting on his duties of Lord Commander. Tormund was preoccupied with telling some Free Folk about something either related to fighting or fucking.

 

So, she stood in solitude, waiting for riders to arrive. She had consciously moved somewhere where she could make sure that they would be let in and not interrupt the Jon and Sansa reunion: the gate. Half-obscured by a pillar, painful memories of the battle for Castle Black came rushing back.

 

She still saw Grenn and Pyp sometimes, but less and less. They tended to look less violent, but it was still very unsettling. Standing up at the gates did nothing, especially as her eyes fell on a discarded crossbow.

 

Thankfully, she was interrupted by the sound of horses. “Riders approaching!” a recruit called from the bottom.

 

“Let them in!” Alethia yelled back without hesitation. She saw Sansa’s matted red hair pass through the gate on her pale horse. She didn’t need to see her face to know it would be marred with exhaustion and pain.

 

Perfectly on time, Jon appeared at the entrance of the dining hall and froze. Alethia began walking down the steps as Jon broke into a half-run and embraced Sansa. She watched as Sansa clung to her brother.

 

Alethia waited until they parted and stood behind Jon.

 

“Lady Alethia? You’re alive?” Sansa asked hesitantly.

 

“Barely. Almost got myself killed a week ago.” She replied. Sansa didn’t smile, but something flickered in her eyes. Brienne stood awkwardly as Tormund stared at her and Alethia shot a warning glance in his direction.

 

Jon cleared his throat. “Lady Alethia will show you to your room.” Al knew what he meant: take care of my sister and make sure no one touches her.

 

Sansa carefully stepped over to Alethia. When Jon began talking to Brienne, Al took out a knife and flipped it so that the handle faced Sansa. She took it and let it disappear in her dress. Together, they walked to one of the guest rooms.

 

“I’ll have a bath drawn for you.” Alethia explained, “You can sit at the desk if you want. You can see everything going on in the courtyard from here.” Especially Bolton men arriving.

 

“Thank you.” Sansa replied, barely speaking above a whisper.

 

“And Sansa, call me Al please. All my friends do.” Sansa nodded and Al left the room, running to the infirmary.

 

Luckily, Satin was still there. “Satin! Help me draw a bath for a guest. And get the jar with the moon on it and some of those.” She said, pointing to a few jars.

 

As Alethia passed Daemon on the way to Sansa’s room, she stopped him. “Can you bring me a teacup, some hot water and honey please? To the guest room.” Daemon nodded and went on his way, and soon, Alethia was back in Sansa’s room.

 

Sansa jumped as she entered. “Someone’s coming to draw you a bath.” Alethia repeated and pulled the tub in front of the bed.

 

The Lady of Winterfell watched her with blue eyes, hand on the knife. “I, uh brought you a dress of mine. Might be a little big. Got a stay too. The needlework isn’t as exquisite as yours though.” As Alethia pretended to show her the needlework and revealed the blades concealed in the stay, Daemon knocked on the door.

 

Alethia went to the door and took the teacup and water from him before Sansa could see him. She placed them on the cabinet. Sansa remained silent.

 

Soon after, Satin entered and glanced at Sansa. Alethia saw the recognition at her bruises. She shrunk away, knuckles white on the dagger. Satin saw it. He was good at reading people; he had had to be in his business.

He stuttered a little, trying to ensure that Sansa felt safe. “Don’t worry, my lady. I, uh, worked as a whore.” He told her. Her grip on the knife relaxed a little as he set the jar with the moon down and began drawing the water.

 

Alethia began making the tea. When Satin was done, he looked to Alethia, who in turn looked at Sansa. It seemed the secret way of communicating by looks only was a thing all women could do.

 

“Thank you, Satin. I’ll take it from here.”

 

Sansa watched him go. “Do you want me to lock the door?” Alethia asked. Sansa nodded and Alethia walked to the door.

 

“I can bathe myself.” Sansa suddenly said.

 

“No offense but that dress is frozen on you. I promise I won’t hurt you. I can only imagine what you went through, but if you want to talk to someone, I’ll listen.”

Sansa stood and took off her cloak.

 

Alethia approached her but stopped. “May I help you with these laces?” she asked. A little consent would surely be nice now. “Yes, thank you.” Sansa replied.

 

Carefully, Alethia opened them. When Sansa was out of the dress, Al averted her eyes and busied herself with the tea until she heard water splash. She knelt next to the tub and held the cup in her hands.

 

“Sansa, this is moontea. If you want it.” She explained and held the cup for Sansa to take. Sansa said nothing but gulped the tea down. She barely made a face as the taste hit the back of her throat. Alethia took the empty cup from her.

 

“If you get any bad cramps, come to me.” She told Sansa, before handing her a soap bar. While Sansa frantically scrubbed at her body, Alethia prepared the pastes. She felt sick as she thought of Ramsay.

 

Sansa had gone through all of that while she was only 15, going on 16. Where had Al been when she was 15? Swearing a vow of silence at Castle Black, she reckoned. When Sansa stepped out of the tub, she took a laid-out towel and wrapped it around her.

 

“Do you mind sitting on the bed? These will help with the bruises and cuts.” Alethia explained, gesturing to the pastes. Alethia sat next to her, applying the pastes.

 

She saw the bruising get worse and worse near her breasts and swallowed. Al didn’t want to imagine what they were like between Sansa’s legs.

 

“Who taught you this?” Sansa asked.

 

“The old Maester. His name was Aemon, but he died a few weeks back.”

 

“Oh.” Sansa replied.

 

“It was alright. At least his death was peaceful.” All visible bruises were now covered. “I’ll leave these here so you can apply the rest yourself. Can’t imagine you’d want anyone to touch you there right now."

 

“No. Thank you.” Sansa replied, listening to Alethia shortly explain the way it worked and which to use where. “You can give me the bolt for the door while you take the bath water out.” Sansa commanded and Alethia stood to do just that.

 

A little while later, Sansa sat, wearing her new dress while Al brushed her hair out until it shone again.

 

In the beginning, the silence was thick. Finally, Alethia asked Sansa a question.

 

“How the hell did you survive all that shit?” she asked her.

 

Sansa looked up at her. “I swore a vow to you, didn’t I?” a hint of bitterness colored her voice.

 

“Sorry for taking that choice from you.”

 

“No, don’t apologize. You did the right thing, I think.”

 

“I, uh, also need to tell you something.”

 

Sansa remained quiet but nodded. “I might’ve borrowed a hairbrush from you in Winterfell. And forgotten to return it.”

 

Sansa’s mouth slightly turned upwards. “I figured. It was a comfort, knowing that at least one thing of mine didn’t belong to someone else.”

 

Alethia frowned and knelt next to Sansa. “Well, they didn’t own your heart, or your mind, or your bravery. And certainly not your strength.”

 

Someone knocked at the door. “I’ll get it.” Al said, putting down the hairbrush.

 

She opened the door and saw Jon standing in front of it. Alethia gnashed her teeth a little, they still hadn’t talked since the morning.

 

“Am I interrupting?” Jon asked.

 

“Come in.” Sansa called.

 

“I brought supper. And ale.” Jon offered and set them down on the table.

 

“Not sure if that’ll help.” Al replied. Jon only rolled his eyes. He settled the food in front of Sansa, and she began to eat. When she shuddered, Al wordlessly handed Jon some furs and began to light a fire in the hearth.

 

She puttered around a little, cleaning her supplies and occasionally taking a bite from the stew Jon had brought for her. The siblings were mostly quiet. When Sansa was done, Jon said goodnight and Al threw back the covers.

 

While she prepared another dose of moontea and set the pastes and painkiller down at the bedside, Sansa took off all clothes, except for the shift.

 

“So, you and Jon?” Sansa suddenly questioned.

 

“Yeah, I guess.” Alethia replied. How the hell did she know?

 

“How long?” Sansa asked again, already settling into bed.

 

“Since last week when I almost died. Took him long enough, that prudish prick. And if you’re gonna sleep with a knife by your side, grab it and put your hand under the pillow.”

 

Sansa almost smiled once more and followed Alethia’s instructions. Al closed the door behind her, leaving for her own room.

 

***

 

It was no use, she couldn’t sleep. Maybe she could bother someone? She quickly dismissed the thought of trying to have make-up sex with Jon, knowing she’d regret it later. Davos would be sleeping, Satin too, Edd stressing about his new position. The Free Folk? Maybe Tormund…

 

And sure enough, Tormund was still sitting at a fire, with only a few Free Folk around.

 

“Mind if I join?” Alethia asked.

 

“She-crow! Come here.” Tormund patted a seat next to him. Across from Al sat Karsi’s wife, looking a little tired. With Karsi gone, she spoke for the spearwives now.

 

“Sorry for your loss. I tried my best.” Alethia apologized.

 

“Aye, that’s the most important. You couldn’t save her, but she went doing good and that was what she wanted. But death makes everything sad, and the ale here is terrible. Better to laugh.”

 

And so, Tormund began telling stories. Soon, he began to tell how he and Al met. “And then she said, ‘does it look like I’ll suck your cock, I pass.’” He roared with laughter and Alethia chuckled at the memory. In the course of the night, he told the entire story, not even mad about her killing his warg anymore.

 

At some point, a Free Folk handed him a horn with fermented goats’ milk and the spearwife looked mildly amused as Tormund basically drenched Alethia in it.

 

“Up for a spar, little lass?” Tormund mocked, and Al pulled Lucifer out of her sheath. Soon enough, he got his monster-ax, and they were off.

 

It wasn’t very serious, Tormund being drunk on bad milk and Al laughing as he pretended to stumble, but as he disarmed her and said something along the lines of ‘that’s why Free Folk have two’ her unhealthy competitiveness won her over and she pulled out her dagger kicking his ax out of his hand.

 

He caught her hand though. Twisting her wrist, Alethia began to lose grip on the dagger. She still had another knife in her belt though…

 

She pulled it out and held it to Tormund’s throat. “Where the fuck did that one come from? Pulled it from your ass?” Tormund asked, sitting back at the fire.

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy. That what you think about when you’re up and alone?” Al mocked.

“Bah, haven’t you seen the big woman?” Tormund asked in return.

 

“Brienne is her name I believe. And there comes her squire. No inappropriate comments, yes? We southerners are very sensitive.” Alethia sarcastically told him.

 

Podrick was indeed strolling around in the courtyard, looking a little lost and very lonely.

 

“Hey! You’re Podrick Payne right?” Al called.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Come and meet your first Free Folk.” Alethia told him, and he reluctantly obliged. The spearwife rolled her eyes and left, presumably to check on her kids.

 

Podrick sat nervously. “Can I call you Pod? I’ll call you Pod.” Alethia decided. She was definitely a little tipsy from the drinking contest she’d quickly quit before.

 

They began talking, exchanging tales. Alethia tried to steer the conversation towards what he did to those whores, but in the end, it was no use. He sparred once with Tormund but was quickly beat, not knowing any dirty tricks.

 

In the end, he was laughing along with them, looking more at ease. Al leaned against Tormund a little and soon drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

 

Tormund has a way to big ego for someone who just got beat by someone with little alcohol tolerance…

 

Notes:

God, writing is complicated. Feedback appreciated. Also, where is Jesus in my life?

Chapter 43: I just think that women-

Summary:

The Bolton letter arrives at Castle Black and plans to retake Winterfell are made.

Notes:

Last of these frequent uploads, I'll be going back to normal uploads on saturday now... The old stuff will still be re-written now though, so go check that out every once in a while...

TW: threats of death and rape, revisiting past events/trauma

I can’t believe I’ve been writing this fic for so long now! Again, thanks to all who’ve stuck till here and not wandered off after the first few chapters, y’all mean the world to me.

Alethia walked to the kitchen, clutching the letter that had arrived from Winterfell that day. The pink Bolton seal was unbroken, but Al already knew its contents. As it always seemed to be, she was the last to arrive in the dining hall. Edd, Tormund, Jon, Davos, Brienne, Sansa and Podrick were eating when she settled next to them.

 

 

 

 

“There’s been a letter from Winterfell.” Alethia said, deciding it would be easier just to say the truth. As it was addressed to Jon, she handed him the letter. He opened the letter and immediately, his eyes narrowed.

 

 

 

 

He read the letter, describing how he would be killed, how they had Rickon and stopped at the threats Ramsay was making to Sansa. Tired, the girl snatched the letter from Jon and finished reading it.

 

 

 

“We have to take back Winterfell.” Sansa said.

 

 

 

“We can’t, we don’t have enough men. You’re safe here, and we don’t even know if he has Rickon.” Jon replied, tired.

 

 

 

“He does have Rickon. And Sansa isn’t safe here, not as long as Ramsay still breathes.” Alethia argued. Jon sighed, running a hand through his hair.

 

 

 

“The North will rally for House Stark. If we go to the houses and ask them to honor their oaths, they will join us.” Sansa replied.

 

 

 

“But the oath to the Crown is more important than that of House Stark.” Brienne argued. Alethia knew she was right, partly. She glanced to Davos, who nodded.

 

 

 

“I have no doubt that a lot of northern Houses will still swear fealty to Sansa and Jon. They followed Robb for a reason, didn’t they? The North remembers,” Alethia began.

 

 

 

“And if they say that their oath to the Crown is more important, then we have a surprise coming for them.”

 

 

 

“And what would that be?” Podrick asked. “Cersei has been crowned queen; Tommen is dead. Only a Baratheon has a true claim on the throne now.”

 

 

 

“Exactly. Stannis Baratheon died in the Battle of Winterfell, but his daughter is alive and well. She is currently in hiding and under a different name, but her greyscale is quite identifiable.” Alethia smirked and leaned back.

 

 

 

“The little princess is still alive, eh?” Tormund asked, smiling too. Sansa kept her mask, and Brienne narrowed her eyes, obviously not convinced.

 

 

 

“When Stannis was here, Lyanna Mormont wrote a letter saying that she would only bend the knee to a Stark. Many small and proud Northern houses think like that: the Mazins, the Reeds, the Clansmen. Perhaps the Free Folk will fight with us, but that is their choice. Some houses we won’t be able to reach in time. Sansa and Jon, you should travel to rally all the houses that you can. If it were up to me, I would take Shireen and travel to White Harbor. Their heir was slaughtered at the Red Wedding, and they command the Northern Fleet.” Alethia paused, looking around.

 

 

 

Everyone was listening intently. “With the fleet out of the hands of the Boltons, we must only make sure that no ravens leave the Dreadfort or Winterfell. Then, riders would be necessary to contact the crown. If Sansa and Jon can get to Deepwood Motte first, no one would make it through the Neck. The Crown won’t be able to send any support. Deepwood Motte is ruled by House Cerwyn, right?” Alethia asked Sansa, who nodded.

 

 

 

“Littlefinger had me take on a different identity as we passed through there, the Cerwyns would’ve never assented to marrying a Stark and a Bolton.” Sansa replied.

 

 

 

“If we get all of these houses on our side, how many men do we have?” Alethia asked.

 

 

 

“2000, maybe 3000.” Sansa replied.

 

 

 

“If the Free Folk fight with us, we can add a giant and 500 fighters at least to that.” Alethia replied. “How many does Ramsay have?”

 

 

 

“5000.” Sansa said.

 

 

 

“Sansa, can you write to the Lords of the Vale? They don’t like Littlefinger, and Robin is your cousin. Maybe they will help us.”

 

 

 

“That could actually work.” Brienne replied, impressed.

 

 

 

“If I write to the Vale, we could get support of the houses Arryn and Royce at least.” Sansa said.

 

 

 

“So how many men would we have then?”

 

 

 

“3000 if only they help us. 4000 or 5000 if more houses come to our aid. And with the Manderlys, 5500 and three warships.” Sansa said.

 

 

 

“So, we would have 5500 if we are very unlucky and the Free Folk won’t fight- “Alethia began.

 

 

 

“The Free Folk will fight. The spearwives would flog me if I let a man like that live.” Tormund assented.

 

 

 

“Fine, 6000 and 2 giants if we’re very unlucky. But that’s already more than the Boltons have. Best case scenario is 8500 soldiers, a giant and three warships. I wouldn’t ask the Riverlands for support. Better to send them support after we take Winterfell. They took the full brunt of the War of the Five Kings.”

 

 

 

“You seem very sure about this whole venture.” Sansa said.

 

 

 

“Merely optimistic. I want that little cunt to run full-on into a trap, thinking that he’s won.”

 

 

 

“A trap? So if we let it seem like we only have 3000 and let them surround us, with Wun Wun inside and then the Lords of the Vale send their men to demolish their ring from the outside while their spears and shields are towards us, we would decimate Bolton forces.” Jon said.

 

 

 

“What about Rickon?” Podrick asked.

 

 

 

“I can take care of that.” Alethia promised.

 

 

 

“And how will the princess be safe from Bolton? His men are the worst, worse than the Mountains’.” Davos asked.

 

 

 

“I have 7 very angry women protecting her. All of which know what it’s like to be in the hands of a man like Ramsay. They know how to survive the North and they know how to fight. If we lose, they’ll make sure that Shireen will live a peaceful life in the Gift.” Alethia assented once more.

 

 

 

“If it’s alright they’ll accompany me to White Harbor, with Shireen.”

 

 

 

Edd stared at her blankly and then spoke for the first time. “You trained Craster’s Wives how to fight? And put the bloody princess on their farm? Al, you’re out of your mind.”

 

 

 

“Thank you, Lord Commander.”

 

 

 

“So, when do we leave?” Sansa asked.

 

 

“Tomorrow’ll be as good a day as ever.” Jon replied and got up to leave. Alethia stood as well and left the dining hall. She had to make sure Satin would know what to do when she left.

 

 

 

“Alethia!” Sansa called behind her and Alethia turned around.

 

 

 

“Thank you. I don’t know if I would’ve thought of writing to the Lords of the Vale if you hadn’t brought it up.”

 

 

 

“Sure. Sansa, I must ask a favor of you.”

 

 

 

“Yes?”

 

 

 

“If we make it to Winterfell, teach Shireen how to rule a castle, yeah?”

 

 

 

Sansa raised an eyebrow. “I want her to get Storm’s End or Dragonstone back one day.” Alethia lied. Sansa was still in contact with Littlefinger and him knowing about her plans would not be good at all. Cersei had already threatened her once before and she didn’t need a second round.

 

 

 

 

 

That evening, Alethia began packing her things. She had already given instructions to Satin and cleared out most of her chest, deciding what to take with her and what not when her eyes fell on one last thing at the very bottom of it, a little dusty.

 

 

 

Alethia pulled her old pointe shoes out of the chest and stared at them. She ran a finger at the untouched fabric and marveled at it a little. A moment she considered asking Melisandre if she could take her back.

 

 

 

Then, she threw the shoes in the fire. That part of her life was gone, she couldn’t go back, she wouldn’t. People here relied on her. If she left, everything might fall apart.

 

 

 

Jon came a little later. “Never knew you were a strategic mastermind.” He said as he sat on the chair.

 

 

 

“Yeah, well I have led exactly one charge before.” Alethia replied, smiling.

 

 

 

“If it doesn’t work, what then?” Jon asked her.

 

 

 

“If I die, burn me, if only we survive, we make for Dragonstone and get our revenge.”

 

 

 

“Who the hell is on Dragonstone?”

 

 

“No one yet. But Daenerys Targaryen is coming, and you better not fall in love with her.”

 

 

 

Jon smirked. “I would never.”

 

 

 

Alethia rolled her eyes and pushed back her covers. “Want me to settle you into bed?” Jon asked teasingly.

 

 

 

“I mean, you could just stay here instead of freezing in your own chamber.” Alethia snarked back. Jon shrugged and soon enough, she was snug against him, enjoying the best sleep in years.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Alethia woke up the next morning, she almost jumped out of her skin until she realized that it was Jon next to her. Quietly, she relaxed again, enjoying the warmth. However, their peace did not last long as she heard the last wildling in the infirmary begin to stir. Alethia sighed and got out of bed.

 

 

 

She put on her stay and travel clothes, having the rest being packed already. She walked out, tying her hair into a ponytail (not a messy bun, sorry) and searching for the vial with milk of the poppy when Satin came in.

 

 

 

“Morning.” Alethia said, giving him the vial.

 

 

 

“Morning. You’re leaving today?” Satin asked.

 

 

 

“Yes. It’ll be weird not seeing the Wall in front of my window each morning.” Al replied.

 

 

 

“We’ll miss you, Edd and Daemon and I.” Satin said.

 

 

 

“Well, I’ll make sure to visit if I survive.” Al said, and Satin snorted in reply. “Any more questions?” Alethia asked him.

 

 

 

“Are you gonna invite me to your wedding?” Satin asked, raising his eyebrows. Now it was Alethia’s turn to snort. Were they really acting that obvious? As if Satin could read her thoughts, he reassured her.

 

 

 

“Don’t worry, I don’t think anyone but me and Lady Stark knows.”

 

 

 

“I’ll send an invitation just for you. If you ever get married, send me an invite.” Alethia responded.

 

 

 

“The oath is pretty specific on that part.”

 

 

 

“Yeah, you shall take no wife, never said anything about a husband. No cute Wildling you got your sight on?”

 

 

 

“Didn’t think you to think like the Dornish.”

 

 

 

“It’s normal where I’m from. Hell, I fall in love with both. I wish you could’ve had that too, a nice relationship. You know, I think my friend would’ve had a crush on you. He died before you came here.”

 

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

 

 

“Me too. He was a good guy.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alethia had a few too many horses with her, but she was glad that she had sent a few ahead already yesterday. Otherwise, this would be hopeless.

 

 

 

She kept looking back to the Wall, and Castle Black. She had lived in Winterfell for about half a year, but Castle Black had been her home for 2 and a half years. Almost the longest she’d lived anywhere. Despite the mold and the cold, she’d miss it. It had its rustic charm somehow.

 

 

 

At the Kingsroad, Alethia said goodbye to Sansa and Jon and the rest of them and left for the farm, but not before Tormund almost suffocated her in a hug. Blinking back tears, she waved and rode for the farm.

 

 

 

The women had only nodded when she had brought them the message yesterday. Shireen had been a little sad, saying that the farm was a better home than any before. Still, she had packed her now meagre belongings and gotten ready to move again.

 

 

 

No smoke came from the chimney today and Shireen sat at the gate, her new bow slung over her shoulder, the daggers that Alethia had taken from one of the dead Wildlings in her belt. Shireen smiled and ran towards her, somehow managing to keep an air of nobility.

 

 

 

Alethia jumped off her horse and picked Shireen up, spinning her around. Although she was 13, Shireen didn’t seem to mind. Gella came out of the house, her six sisters following her and started assigning horses.

 

 

 

“As I told you yesterday, we are riding south, to White Harbor. This journey is very dangerous, some of us might die. If I die, I ask you all to take care of Shireen and protect her like she is one of your own.” Alethia said. The sisters assented to this and soon, their small caravan was on their way. Shireen and Alethia rode at the front, talking away, while the sisters rode behind them.

 

 

 

“Why did you use my real name?” Shireen asked.

 

 

“Shireen, I need to tell you something.” Alethia began. She knew it was inevitable.

 

 

 

“It’s about my parents, isn’t it?” Shireen questioned and Al nodded.

 

 

 

“They’re both dead. Melisandre burned your mother and twenty soldiers as a sacrifice. From what I’ve gathered, she insisted that they keep looking for you. Your father perished in battle. By right of conquest, you’re the queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Shireen.”

 

 

Shireen was quiet for a little while. “But I’m not really, am I?” she finally replied.

 

 

“No. But if it comes to that, I will go to war for you. For now, you can practice politics by helping me in gaining the Manderlys’ support. If we retake Winterfell, I am sure that Lady Sansa will teach you how to run a castle. Save Davos and Jon, everyone thinks I’m trying to help you reclaim the ancestral home of the Baratheons.”

 

 

Shireen stayed silent, but Alethia could tell she was thinking. Already, the bright and cheerful princess had become colder and more calculating. It broke her heart to see what this world did to the people in it.

 

 

Shireen would make it better. If I gave her enough input, this world could become like mine, and better in less than 500 years. I could make it better.

Notes:

Feedback is appreciated! I still don’t know how to write romance if you couldn’t tell… Maybe I can start revising the first few chapters soon 😊. A reading recommendation: Dead Little Crow by seeing_blue. Also a modern girl in Westeros, but this one’s much, much darker. Contains a lot of death, violence and rape but really thrilling, still manages to be hilarious. POC main character (Filipina) and Grenn/OFC. Absolutely stunning writing, no spelling mistakes and first chapters are rewritten.

I got vaccinated today yay!

Chapter 44: Wolves and Dragons and Stags, oh my

Summary:

Alethia and Shireen arrive at White Harbor and Shireen’s first political stunt goes much better than expected.

Notes:

GO WATCH BLACK WIDOW, A TRUE MASTERPIECE

Chapters 1-5 are rewritten and will be posted right after this :)

When Alethia and the others arrived at the gates of White Harbor, they were let through without any questions. Apparently, having a cart of wheat with them was enough to warrant them as harmless.

 

As soon as they entered the city, Shireen pulled up her hood and became Greren once more. Alethia listened around and was happy to hear that a grim man called Fredrik had departed on a merchant cog to Myr.

 

 

Her purse felt a lot lighter than in the morning, but the coins that Alethia had spent on bribing several guards and officers had been well invested. Together with Shireen and Gella, she stood in front of the door of the Merman’s office.

 

 

Wyman Manderly sat at the desk, writing with shaking hands.

 

 

“Lord Manderly, thank you for receiving us.” Alethia began, and the Lord looked up. He seemed to recognize the black of the Night’s Watch, but mentally waved it off as a mourning color.

 

 

“Who are you?” a guard questioned.

 

 

“My Lord, this matter requires absolute privacy.” Alethia added, ignoring the guard. Lord Manderly waved a hand, and the two guards left the room, leaving only Wyman and his son Wylis.

 

 

“Who are you and what do you need?” the Lord asked tiredly.

 

 

“My name is Alethia of House Stahl and I come to ask you that you honor your vow to House Stark and join them against the Boltons.”

 

 

Wylis sharply gasped and Wyman dropped his quill, looking at her properly for the first time. The man was fat, but he was not stupid. Alethia handed him two scrolls, informing the Manderlys about the current situation.

 

 

 

Wyman read them and handed them to his son.

 

 

“I would not oppose the Boltons. They are a force to be reckoned with, and our vow with the Crown holds higher importance.” Wyman said.

 

 

“You lost your son, Ser Wendel, at the Red Wedding, correct? A slaughter organized by the Boltons and the Lannisters. Do you have no wish for revenge?”

 

 

“I do, but Roose Bolton has 5000 men at his disposal.” Wylis answered for his father.

 

 

“No, Roose Bolton is dead. And if you join our cause, we will have more than enough men to destroy the Boltons and take back Winterfell. The North could become an independent Kingdom once more, and White Harbor the most important city, with the North’s fleet at its back.”

 

 

Wyman stood. “How do you know that Roose is dead?”

 

 

“Sansa Stark came to Castle Black, carrying the news of his death and the abuse she suffered at Ramsay’s hands. That bastard is insane. What will you do when he demands Wynafred or Wylla as a bride?”

 

 

Wylis slammed his hand on the table. “That will not happen!”

 

 

“If he demands it, you can’t stop him from taking one of them away. He would be your liege lord.”

 

 

Wyman raised his hand to stop his son from speaking. “Still, we cannot oppose the crown. Cersei Lannister is the queen, and she will not allow any disloyalty.”

 

 

“Pray tell me, my lord, by right of succession, wouldn’t Stannis Baratheon be King?”

 

 

“Yes. But he has died in the Battle for Winterfell.”

 

 

“And if say, his daughter, was alive, would she be the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms instead of Cersei Lannister?”

 

 

“Yes, but she passed as well. No Baratheons survived.”

 

 

Alethia smirked and motioned Shireen to come forward. The girl took off her hood and stood proud and tall. Al couldn’t believe she was only 13.

 

 

“I am Shireen of the House Baratheon. If you honor your vows, you must fight with the Starks.”

 

 

The Lord’s eyes widened in surprise, but he recognized the princess, thanks to her greyscale.

 

 

“My Lady- Your Grace- “he began, but Shireen cut him off.

 

 

“How many men can you spare, my Lord.”

 

“300 cavalry and 400 foot soldiers. And the three warships of course.”

 

 

Shireen looked to Alethia. “We would be most grateful if you could spare those soldiers. The warships won’t be needed for now. If you can, begin building more though. Winter is coming and so are the Ironborn, most like.” Alethia said.

 

 

“Perhaps Ser Wylis and one of his daughters, maybe Wylla, can accompany us?” Shireen quickly added. It was a smart move, taking the heir and one of his children as a guarantee. Alethia looked at her and saw a political smile plastered over her normally genuine face, but the Manderlys didn’t seem to mind.

 

 

“Yes, yes of course. Will two days of preparation will be enough?” Wyman asked, and Shireen nodded. Soon enough, the three of them were led to guest chambers and the rest of the sisters were hosted as well.

 

 

 

 

 

After dinner, Shireen sat and read while Gella and Alethia went over a few strategies and plans.

 

 

“You Southerners are strange. First the man says nothing and does not look at you at all, but when the little princess takes off her hood, he is all smiles.” Gella said.

 

 

“Well, I’m not exactly a Southerner, but I agree. I’m not complaining though.”

 

 

Gella snorted. “Me neither.”

 

 

Behind them, Shireen flopped onto the bed and sighed.

 

 

“I think I’m floating on a cloud.”

 

 

Alethia laughed. “Mind coming over and taking a look at our plans?” she asked Shireen, and the princess begrudgingly got off the cloud.

 

 

Shireen looked at the map and plans thrown around. “We should march for the seat of House Mazin instead of Bear Island or Winterfell. It’s where Sansa and Jon will go next, and they are probably already on their way. The Glovers and the Umbers are in their route as well.”

 

 

Gella nodded approvingly. “Even our Lady Commander hadn’t thought of that.” She smirked.

 

 

“Since when am I Lady Commander?”

 

 

“Well, I am in charge of the Manderly forces and since I don’t know that much about warfare, you are my commander, obviously.” Shireen giggled.

 

 

“Honored.” Alethia said, rolling her eyes, but walked to the bed and flopped onto it all the same.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The two days of rest passed far to quickly and soon, Shireen and Alethia were on their way, but this time, with 700 soldiers, a noble knight, and another Lady behind them. Shireen and Alethia rode at the front. They were accompanied by Wylla, who could barely sit still with excitement, and her father Wylis.

 

Gella rode with Alethia and Wylis, discussing tactics and bringing word of what was talked about in the camp.

 

 

When they stopped for the night, Wylla soon began to beg Shireen to teach her archery. It took two nights of convincing her father, but with Alethia’s help, Wylla was allowed to learn how to shoot with Shireen and sparred with Alethia.

 

 

She was good too. Soon, she and Shireen sparred, two short swords against one longer, thinner blade. Shireen was beginning to fight like a wildling, and the sisters agreed that they could not be prouder of their little princess.

 

 

Wylla matched Shireen’s enthusiasm, and Alethia was glad that the two got along. Shireen deserved to have a friend her age. Wylis was nice enough, and he and Alethia got along as well. After a week on the road, he had already dropped significant weight, saying that he wanted to fight against the Boltons while being in good shape.

 

 

He and Alethia soon began to spar, and while she put him on his back most of the time, she taught the knight a few of the tricks Tormund had taught her. He got better and better, but Alethia doubted he was in good enough shape to fight in battle. She hoped he’d stay away from it and worked on convincing him to help protect Sansa.

 

 

After two and a half weeks, Alethia caught sight of a significantly larger column of riders and soldiers. She saw the Stark banners fly in the wind and the unorganized marching of the Wildlings. Right in front of the column, two tall redheads almost drowned out Jon.

 

 

Alethia was glad when she recognized the banners of house Mormont and Glover, as well as several Clansmen banners and another banner she did not recognize.

 

 

Al let out the loud whistle the rangers with Qhorin had taught her ages ago, and Jon and Tormund turned their heads to stare up the hill she was on. Behind her, the soldiers began to appear, and Tormund began to cheer.

 

 

 

 

 

Alethia rode down the hill, army behind her and jumped off her horse, running towards Ghost.



“You’ve gotten even bigger!” she said, petting between his ears. She craned her head up and saw Wun Wun waving. Wylla pointed at the giant and Shireen laughed.

 

 

Jon walked toward her and Ghost, probably to embrace her, but Tormund passed him and crushed Alethia in a hug.

 

 

“Let go Tormund! You’re killing me!” Alethia laughed, punching his arms.

 

 

“Aye, you’re still a skinny little lass.” Tormund replied patting her back. Alethia almost went to her knees from the impact. Jon arrived and hugged her too, much more carefully.

 

 

“I missed you.” He said.

 

 

“I missed you too. Did Tormund beat your ass into the ground while I was gone?” Alethia asked.

 

“Once or twice.” Jon smirked.

 

 

Sansa rode up behind them, Brienne behind her. Davos was next to them and Alethia was glad that they got along.

 

 

“Let’s make camp!” Tormund suggested, and everyone seemed to agree.

 

 

 

 

 

Soon after, introductions were made. Wylla curtsied to Sansa and introduced her father, Wylis shook Ser Davos’ hand and accepted an overly friendly pat from Tormund while soldiers began to intermingle with those of other houses.

 

 

Tormund squatted down to look at Wylla. “So, you’re the little mermaid lady, eh?” he asked her.

 

 

She nodded. “Nice hair.” Tormund commented and got back up. Wylla smiled and ran her hand through her green hair. Gella shook Sansa’s hand and introduced her sisters to her, Jon, Davos, and Brienne.

 

 

Tormund was telling Wylla how shit Southern bows were by the time it got dark and insisted that she let a spearwife teach her the real stuff.

 

 

Soon, a woman appeared and began sparring with Shireen and Wylla.

 

 

Wylis had crossed his arms, watching his daughter hack and swing at the spearwife and Shireen.

 

 

“Everything alright?” Alethia asked him.

 

 

He huffed. “If she continues to train like that, my own daughter will soon put me on my back!” he complained.

 

 

“Aye, maybe that isn’t so bad. Imagine how proud she’ll be when she can actually threaten her sister’s future husband.”

 

 

“Highly improper.” The man said, trying to suppress a smile at the image of the green-haired girl threatening some lordling with her sword.

 

 

“But a bloody good comfort. Come, we must discuss our new numbers.” Alethia said and led the way to the war tent.

 

 

 

 

 

“How many men have you brought?” Sansa asked, giving Jon some merman figurines. Where the hell did they get those from? Did they come with a war-starterpack?

 

 

“300 cavalry and 400 footsoldiers, my lady.” Wylis replied.

 

 

Sansa smirked. “Which means we already have 4500 men and a giant. With the rest of the Northern houses, we will have more than the Boltons. The ravens to the Vale have been sent and I am awaiting their reply.” She paused.

 

 

“Lady Yara Greyjoy of the Iron Islands and her brother sent us 50 archers. They wish to reconcile with the North and have taken first steps. It would please them to establish a trading route from the Free Cities to White Harbor, going over the Iron Islands.”

 

 

Unbothered, Wylis nodded. “I will write to my Lord father.”

 

 

Davos cleared his throat. “There is more news.”

 

 

“Yes, Lord Davos?” Jon asked.

 

 

“I received a letter from my old friend Salladhor Saan yesterday.” He paused, looking at Alethia. “The Dragon queen has landed in Westeros.”

Notes:

I started writing an actual novel and the idea is great I just genuinely don’t enjoy writing it as much as this, probably bc I get no feedback from unbiased strangers on the internet and no validation=no motivation

Chapter 45: NO Triggerwarnings?!

Summary:

 The march to Winterfell, fluff with all our “castmembers “, awesome Northern Ladies and some disgusting romance. I needed a break from all the plotting and fighting.

Notes:

Thanks for all the positive feedback lately! Chapters 1-4 have been re-written; I tweaked some minor details and fixed mistakes. Enjoy this chapter for now!

Alethia groaned as she rolled off her cot. She had seriously forgotten how nice proper medieval beds were! How the hell had she survived that ranging?

 

Oh right, she was kind of immortal now.

 

She sat up properly and pulled up the blankets over Jon a little. It was nice having him close like this, just having him around, nothing more.

 

Al decided to leave him sleep peacefully and left the tent, stepping into the frigid cold of the North. She spotted Sansa’s tent, right next to hers, and then that of Shireen and her Onion Knight, who’d insisted on guarding her as soon as she returned.

 

Her gaze drifted and went past the hide tent where the Sisters had decided to sleep and Tormund’s tent and finally landed on that of the Manderlys. Just as she looked at the tent, the flap was lifted and Wylla stepped out, bundled into furs.

 

Her green hair was distinct though, and she seemed determined as ever to keep dying it as Tormund insisted, she looked just like a mermaid he had once seen.

 

Alethia almost wanted to insist back that he had probably had too much ale, but being happy was so hard in these times, that she stopped herself. With 12 years old, Wylla was one of the youngest, if not the youngest person in the camp, save the Free Folk children.

 

Alethia waved a gloved hand and Wylla bounced toward her.

 

“Morning, Lady Manderly!” Alethia called.

 

“Good morning, Lady Stahl. Shireen and I are sparring today. Tormund promised to show us a few tricks.”

 

“That man promised to get up early for two girls? Must be a first.” Alethia laughed. She walked over and Wylla led her to a small, improvised shooting range. Soon after, Shireen and Ser Davos arrived, Tormund behind them. Alethia could hear him grumbling from the range.

 

“Why are you in such a bad mood, Tormund? Is it too cold?” Alethia teased.

 

“Here in the South? Nah, I’m practically sweating.” He replied. As he walked past her, he leaned down. “Smells like pigshit too.”

 

Alethia laughed and sat against a small tree. Ser Davos leaned against the tree and reached into his bag, producing breakfast from it.

 

Almost instantly, Alethia’s stomach grumbled.

 

“Never had anyone be this excited for beef jerky.” Davos said.

 

“You’ve clearly never eaten tree bark while freezing your arse off in a desperate manhunt.” Alethia replied and snatched some of the jerky from his hands.

 

“Clearly not.” Davos replied. “Ah, and there comes the North’s fiercest Lady.” He added, raising a hand at a small figure trudging through the snow.

 

“I want to disagree, but I don’t think I can.” Alethia said, taking another bite of the jerky.

 

The girl approached the shooting range, her own bow in hand and a sword at her hip. She pursed her lips and stared up at Tormund.

 

“Are you the Manderlys Master-at-Arms?” Lyanna Mormont asked him.

 

Tormund laughed. “Shite, I’m becoming a Southerner. Tell me, Al, when should I invest in a doublet?” he said, mocking a Lord’s accent.

 

“Why, my good ser, immediately!” Alethia replied.

 

Tormund got on Lyanna’s eyeline. “No, m’lady, I’m not. I’m a Free Folk. You’re here to train, aye?”

 

Lyanna nodded and took a position on the range. Before letting the arrow go, she spoke again.

 

“If I remember correctly, my grandfather was Lord Commander.” She let the arrow fly. “But you didn’t get past the Wall on his Watch, aye?”

 

“No.” Tormund replied, amused.

 

“Good.” The girl said and shot another arrow. She was good, but not as good as Shireen or Wylla. Yet.

 

“Well, I ain’t a Northerner so I’ll go before I freeze my arse off.” Davos said, and left Alethia to chew on her beef jerky. She watched as arrows flew and Tormund corrected stances.

 

He wasn’t a bad teacher and honestly, Alethia didn’t think anyone could take Lyanna’s savage burns in such stride as Tormund, who laughed them off and responded with some comment of his own.

 

“They’re good.” A voice behind her said and Alethia jumped a little.

 

“God, Jon, don’t scare me like that.” She said, getting up.

 

“We haven’t sparred in an eternity.” Jon said, wrapping his arms around her. Alethia leaned back and closed her eyes.

 

“We sparred exactly once, and I almost kissed you.” Al replied.

 

“That would’ve been very distracting.” Jon mocked and Alethia swatted at his arm.

 

“Maybe after these ladies break their fast with Sansa, we can find a quiet place and you can try to get revenge.” Alethia teased back.

 

“Aye, maybe we could.” Jon replied.

 

 

 

 

Jon’s POV:

 

He had put his head on hers, watching the girls shoot at their targets. Briefly, he was reminded of Olly, but shook the thought. The princess was good, probably due to having the most practice, but Jon was sure that Lyanna would eventually be better. Wylla was already becoming a markswoman.

 

Al wasn’t too bad at archery either, but he enjoyed sparring with her much more. Jon blushed at his own thought and was glad that neither Tormund nor Al was looking at him.

 

Almost, he wished that the night had lasted a little longer and he could return to bed with Al, but then again, that spar was truly tempting.

 

Soon enough, the sun was shining down at the forest and the girls began to get their arrows and pick up their things. Alethia removed herself from his arms and walked to escort them.

 

Sam hadn’t lied, it was nice watching a woman walk away from you. Jon jogged to catch up and Al grabbed his hand, holding it in hers. He let her and listened as Tormund told the girls a story. Somehow, he didn’t recognize it.

 

At this point, Jon was sure Tormund made up his stories. Then again, the shit Al had told him about had seemed unreal too.

 

 

 

 

When the girls had disappeared in Sansa’s tent, Jon nodded to one of the Wives that was standing guard with Brienne and turned to find Al. Instead, he almost bumped into Tormund.

 

The man leaned down, a hand on his shoulder. “Remember, go in slowly.” Tormund whispered conspiratorially and leaned back, waggling his eyebrows. Then, he was off, presumably to talk to poor Brienne.

 

Jon sighed and finally spotted Al, who was talking to Ser Wylis and one of his masters-at-arms. They left and Al turned around, seeing him. She waved and he walked up to her in a half-jog.

 

“What were you and Tormund going on about?” she asked. He almost blushed again and looked at the sky.

 

“Could ask you the same thing.”

 

“I asked first. Besides, we only talked about military strategies. Your turn.”

 

“We, uh, also talked about military strategies. Where to employ the Free Folk and such.” Jon replied. Alethia snorted, clearly not buying it, but led him to a small clearing outside of the camp.

 

“So, about that spar.” She began, pulling her sword out of its sheath. Jon followed suit, letting Longclaw scrape against its hull.

 

Without warning, Jon lunged at her, sword raised. She parried, and to his delight, he could see a slight shock in her green eyes. It quickly disappeared though and was replaced with fierceness and a spark of something that Jon could never quite place.

 

She turned out of the situation and danced behind him. He turned, swinging, and she parried again. Soon, they fell into a rhythm. They were well matched up, but Alethia had more practice. When Jon spotted a small gap in her defense, he hit her thigh with the flat of his sword.

 

In turn, Alethia full-on whacked her sword against his back and Jon let out a small “oof”. Al smirked.

 

Jon could hear his blood rush as they fought, using the same tricks they’d learned, fighting the same style taught by the same people. They were like mirrors. Well, almost. Al cheated more.

 

Still, Jon managed to hold Longclaw at her throat. “Yield.” He said.

 

“You think?” Al asked. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion before Al ducked and slammed her body into his, throwing him onto the ground (I can’t reference BLM here since this is Jon’s POV, but you get the picture).

 

She sat on top of him, and Jon stared up at her. Her hair was strongly disheveled, but it made her look adorable. She had barely broken a sweat but breathing heavily, and her eyes still held the same spark, though it looked more like a fire now. Honestly, Jon was enjoying the position he was in.

 

Out of nowhere, she pulled a knife to his throat. “You yield.”

 

Now it was Jon’s turn to smirk. While this wasn’t exactly… a fighting trick, it would still work. Quickly, he flipped Al over and held her wrist with the knife down. Yep, he enjoyed this position too.

 

He saw her eyes darken for a moment, and before Jon knew what was happening, she used her free hand to pull him down into a bruising kiss.

 

Jon closed his eyes, enjoying the kiss. When they came apart, they were both panting. “Shit, why do you always end up on top of me when we kiss?” Al asked, laughing. He liked seeing her smile, it made it seem like they were both younger and happier. Gods, I sound like my father.

 

Alethia pulled him down again and Jon relaxed. Before he knew it, his hand was sliding down to her waist. Then, he felt his back hit the ground, AGAIN. What a little shit.

 

Both his wrists were pinned to the ground and Al was holding an excessive amount of metal to his throat.

 

“Bloody yield, Jon.” She said.

 

“Fine, I yield.” Jon replied. Al threw the metal out of the way and laid in the snow next to him, closing her eyes. He hadn’t noticed the snow that had begun to fall and when it settled on Al’s lashes and hair he sighed. I’m in love. I’m in bloody love, and too deep as well. He thought.

 

As if she’d heard him, she opened her eyes and looked at him. I’ll die a happy man if we kiss ag- Jon thought, but Al had already put her lips on his. In the time she was gone, her lips had become less parched, and Jon would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy their softness.

 

Slowly, he leaned over her, and she whacked his arm, smiling through the kiss.

 

“That’s assault.” Jon whispered.

 

“I’ll show you bloody assault.” Al grumbled and laid back, but her hand was already holding his. When he felt himself get clammy and cold, he stood and wrapped Al and himself in his cloak. They walked past the tree line of the camp and almost made it back to their camp, when a wolf whistle interrupted their peace.

 

Tormund leaned against a tree, a shit-eating grin on his face.

 

“I’ll wipe that smile off your face.” Al grumbled, perfectly capturing Jon’s thought process.

 

“You Southerners take it slow, eh? Waiting for marriage?” Tormund asked.

 

Alethia bent down and Jon couldn’t quite see what she was doing – until she hurled a snowball at Tormund. “I hope all my teachers see this and that it has lots of small, dangerous stones in it!” she yelled.

 

Tormund threw some loose snow in their direction but missed. Suddenly, the three girls walked past them. When they saw Tormund throwing snow, Shireen picked up some snow and hurled it back. In the cover of the snowball fight, Jon and Al made it back to their tents.

 

Jon saw his sister coming towards him and Al patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll go light a brazier, love.”

 

He felt his stomach flip upon hearing the new nickname. Nice. Was all Jon could think.

 

“I take it you wouldn’t have agreed to a political marriage anyways.” Sansa sighed. Jon nodded, glad that the bruises on his sister’s neck had disappeared.

 

“Don’t mess this up with your brooding Jon. I need at least some people to be happy like in the stories and songs.” She continued, before leaving him alone. His sister had truly become unpredictable.

 

Jon went inside the tent, where Alethia was walking around in her shift. The map was still on the table, and he sat at it, burying his head in his hands. Al came up behind him and took off the wet cloak, hanging it to dry.

 

“It’ll all work out Jon.” Al promised. She began putting on a dress and tapped him on the shoulder when she was done.

 

It was like the one she’d worn in Winterfell at the feast. Jon vaguely remembered staring and blushing, before storming off. He’d been jealous that Jamie Lannister had been the one to escort her to the high dais.

 

Gods, he really had been daft all this time.

 

Dark green was a beautiful color on her, and though she had no sigil, small direwolves and winter roses were stitched along the seams of her sleeves and the cinching of her waist.

 

“Nice color.” Jon managed to stutter, before staring back onto the map. Al sat next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

 

“Sometimes I wish we would never stop marching.” Alethia admitted. “It’s nice, spending time with you, training the girls, talking to Sansa. It feels right.”

 

It does.

 

“Imagine how nice it will be once we reach Winterfell.” Jon replied. “You know, there are some hot springs nearby I never told you about.”

 

Alethia hummed in response.

 

How is it possible to be so in love? I never thought the poets and singers were the wise ones, but maybe they weren’t wrong all along. Bloody tragedy I’m surrounded by brutes and soldiers, otherwise, I might just go talk to someone about this shite. I miss Sam, he knows more about this stuff. Maybe I could marry her in Winterfell?  Jon scoffed quietly.

 

No, I think I’d die if I saw her in a wedding dress, better not risk it.

Notes:

Okay, I’ve plotted the rest of the fic and we’ve got about 30-45 chapters more! Maybe I’ll be done with this when I graduate school lmao. Tell me if the romance is becoming unbearable. PS: I was just on Tiermaster, ranking GoT ships and so many ppl are hating on Grenn/Pyp, putting them in the “Ew” tier??? Brb, crying over two fictional characters that deserved better.

Chapter 46: The Quiet before the Storm

Summary:

Though the odds are in her favor, Lady Black doesn’t trust her luck very much.

Notes:

TW: Violence, allusions to torture

short one but wanted to add it.

“You’re going to die tomorrow, Lord Bolton. Sleep well.” Sansa said. Alethia watched as she turned her horse and rode off, back to where the smaller camp was. The trap had worked, and Ramsay still believed that only a few minor houses had joined the cause. Little did he know, that behind a few hills, an encampment of 5000 men was set up, ready to join the battle.

 

“I see forward to having you as my guest, Al.” Ramsay mocked, his lips twisting into a cruel smile. Alethia saw Jon’s knuckles turn white as his grip on the reins tightened, but she said nothing at all.

 

Instead, she looked the bastard dead in the eye and spat on the ground in front of her, before riding off into the safety of the camp.

 

Safety. She thought, you’re getting too comfortable.

 

Jon followed with the rest of the men soon after and pulled her into a hug. She let him, sinking into the embrace. Guilt twisted in her stomach as she thought of her plans. She only hoped Jon would do nothing stupid when he found out what she’d planned.

 

That night, the Lords and Knights of the Vale were invited into the military camp and agreed to the strategy. Only one “Lady” of the Vale was present at the table. Mya Stone, Robert’s first bastard had joined the knights that rode South and insisted on fighting.

 

Occasionally, Al would glance over to Littlefinger. The man smirked all the way through the meeting, as if he’d been the one to garner support. Alethia was glad for his confidence though. She couldn’t believe he had lived this long, if he really thought he wasn’t one of the most-hated men on this side of the field.

 

 

 

 

 

Soon after, the meeting was dismissed and Alethia disappeared into the tent with Jon. He fell asleep and she began writing her note and packing a few things together.

 

“What are you doing, Al?” Jon suddenly asked.

 

“Can’t sleep. I’ll take a walk and check on the Free Folk.” She lied. Seemingly satisfied, Jon went back to sleep and Alethia hid the last knife in her boot.

 

In the cover of darkness, she snuck away from camp and to a group of trees. Only a small pile of dirt showed that someone had hidden something here. Quickly, she scraped the dirt away and found what she was looking for: the make-up she’d snagged from a poor camp follower a few days ago.

 

Quickly, she applied the powder to cover her scars and enough makeup to make her look like she was somewhat a whore. Then, she threw on a ragged cloak and left, making for the Bolton camp.

 

It was much better organized than their own, that was the first thing she noticed. Quickly, she let the first piece of drenched fabric fall and continued her path, making sure all pieces were connected.

 

Soldiers walked past, paying her no mind. She only had to make it to the biggest tent. The one that she was sure Rickon was being held in.

 

Using her knife, she cut a slit into the back of the tent, somehow not alerting any guards. The ones positioned in front of the tent were drinking and talking. Alethia had heard them say that Ramsay was currently in Winterfell, making last preparations. That made it easier for her.

 

Finally, she laid down the last alcohol-soaked cloth and walked up behind Rickon, who was bound to a cross. Her stomach turned and she hoped Ramsay had done nothing too brutal to him. She covered his mouth and the boy struggled, but when she walked in front of him and took of her hood, he didn’t recognize her. Only when Alethia took of the bracelet he’d made her did he realize who she was.

 

She took in his state. He was in trousers and his chest was covered in small gashes, but other than that, he looked fine.

 

“Alethia?” he asked quietly, and she nodded. She cut his bounds and helped him off the cross.

 

“Listen to me. I’ve got a plan to get you out.” Alethia gave Rickon directions to leave the camp and make for theirs and gave him a scroll.

 

“How will I make it out? They all know what I look like.” Rickon asked as she handed him a small knife.

 

“Rickon, you might find this embarrassing, but you still have to do it, alright?” she asked him. Rickon nodded and Alethia got a dress out of her considerably lighter sack. Rickon blushed but still let her put it on him.

 

When she held up the makeup, he crossed his arms. “No.” he said.

 

“Please Rickon, we have to make you unrecognizable.” He shook his head again. Just then, Alethia heard the guards quiet down.

 

“Shit. Rickon, go out the back, I’ll buy you time.” Rickon nodded and made for the slit in the tent. Just as he disappeared, two soldiers came in.

 

Alethia pulled out her sword and got into fighting stance. She attacked before they were ready and even though they were drunk and dead in seconds, she was sure someone had been alerted. Al pursed her lips. Even though she was kind of immortal, she was not excited to be possibly burned by a few hundred connected Molotov cocktails. It was good she’d pointed Rickon in the opposite direction though.

 

Carefully, she stepped outside the tent and stole the first torch she could find. Then she walked back to the tent. She’d promised to buy Rickon more time and honestly, Al was a bitch for dramatic entrances. Anyways, all her escape routes were being blocked with soldiers now, so it would’ve been for nothing.

 

Alethia was leaning against the cross as the first soldiers poured in. She killed the five that had been sent.

 

Finally, she heard the voice of Ramsay Bolton in front of her tent. The man ran in and stopped dead at the sight of the empty cross. Alethia met his eyes, and with a smirk, let her torch fall onto the first piece of cloth.

 

Ramsay’s eyes darkened as the fire began to burn. Flames licked at the ground and spread outside. A soldier yelled commands for it to be put out, but Alethia knew it was useless. Within seconds, the tent began to burn.

 

“Take her.” Ramsay commanded and ran out of the tent. Alethia continued to fight, but eventually she was overwhelmed, and soldiers dragged her from the burning camp. Though only half of it stood in flames, the beacon of destruction let Alethia know that she had succeeded. No one would search for Rickon in this mess. At least for the next few minutes.

 

 

 

 

As she opened her eyes, Alethia realized that someone had knocked her unconscious in the hours before. She wasn’t surprised at finding herself bound to yet another flaying cross, but her stomach still turned.

 

Ramsay Bolton stepped into the tent about half an hour after she had regained her consciousness.

 

“Where is Rickon?” he asked her.

 

“What, no proper greeting?” Alethia mocked. Ramsay Bolton thrived off of fear and pain, and Alethia would give him neither.

 

She saw the blow coming, but it still stung in her face.

 

“Where is he?” Ramsay asked. He got a knife out of his belt and ran it across her scars.

 

“I’ll never tell,”

 

“That’s what they all say, until I cut them with my blades. But it doesn’t matter, tomorrow, I’ll have defeated your forces, then I can kill the Stark boy and take my wife back. Tell me, Al, what are the words of house Bolton?”

 

“Our blades are sharp.” Alethia replied, not breaking eye contact. She wouldn’t lose the most terrifying staring contest in her life.

 

“Mine are indeed.”

 

“Good. Hurts less than dull steel.” She mocked and saw Ramsay turn red with anger. If he talked, he wouldn’t start on the real shit.

 

“Listen closely, whore. Tomorrow, I’ll kill all your friends. I’ll begin with the Wildlings, then the Baratheon princess. After that, I’ll have you watch while my men rip Sansa apart. And after, I’ll have you watch as my hounds rip apart your lover, Jon Snow the bastard- “

 

“A bastard like you?” Alethia interrupted and Ramsay punched her again. Blood began to run out of her nose and onto her face. She could taste it in her mouth.

 

“And after all of them are dead, I’m going to skin you alive until nothing is left of you.” He lowered his knife and cut a gash along Alethia’s arm. She squirmed but didn’t scream. Ramsay stopped, and brought the knife back to her face and her scars. The blood had run down her chin and neck.

 

Ramsay spoke again, “Only then, I will kill you.”

 

“You can try.”

Notes:

I wasn’t willing to describe torture, but Ramsay had about two hours and cut her up pretty bad (arms, legs, torso and back) he didn’t get to any skinning or whipping or intense stuff, because as said, he wants to savor it and is sure that he will win.

I will take no criticism of Al acting dumb, she wanted to save Rickon and that’s exactly what she did. She had no possibility to flee after as she gave her disguise to Rickon, and I needed someone to be on the other side of the field when the battle begins.

Chapter 47: Battle of the Bastards

Summary:

it’s all in the title

Notes:

TW: Violence, blood, gore, ptsd, smut

If anyone wants a Smut warning, write it in the comments and I’ll add it.

I injured my right hand and can now only type with my left (non-dominant), which is no problem since I have a few more drafts but after those run out, there might be a small pause in posting :/

Jon’s POV:

Alethia hadn’t returned from her walk when Jon woke up in the middle of the night. She didn’t return after, and she didn’t return when the sun began to rise. Instead, Jon saw smoke rise from the Bolton camp and his stomach sunk.

 

What had she done?

 

Suddenly, he saw a figure running, approaching from the side of the camp. He ran to see who it was. Wasn’t that Alethia’s old dress?

 

When he finally made it, a few Free Folk had surrounded the figure who had taken off the dress. Jon realized it was a boy, who was hastily speaking in the Old Tongue.

 

Jon pushed through the small crowd and patted Tormund, who was speaking with the boy on the arm, so he’d let him through.

 

He narrowed his eyes, before realizing who this was.

 

“Rickon?” he asked, and the boy nodded. Jon almost fell towards him and hugged his little brother.

 

When he let go, he noticed a leftover of paint on his brother’s lip and the discarded dress. Rickon was only in breeches. Quickly, Jon wrapped his cloak around him.

 

“Where the hell is Alethia?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know. She helped me escape, but after that, she stayed behind to buy me time. I think Ramsay has her.” He blurted out.

 

Jon paled and his stomach turned to ice as his worst fear was confirmed. He looked to Tormund, who looked as angry as he did in Castle Black.

 

Before he could formulate a proper thought, a horn was sounded.

 

All he could do now was win the battle for her.

 

Tormund stood beside him as Ramsay appeared on the crest of a hill, archers behind him. Ramsay got off his horse and Jon spotted a rope in his hand.

 

He tugged harshly and a figure stumbled forward.

 

Jon signaled for a horse as he recognized Alethia. Her face was caked in blood, and he was briefly reminded of the Battle for Castle Black, and how he’d found her in the tunnel.

 

Al’s knees gave out and the man caught her, pulling her up by her shoulders. He whispered something in her ear and Jon caught the glint of steel next to her throat.

 

She couldn’t die. Right?

 

Despite everything, Alethia smiled, and her teeth shone white. It was a crazed smile and only scared Jon more. Suddenly, Ramsay took the rope away and pushed her forward.

 

She began running best she could and as he saw Ramsay load up his bow, she suddenly swerved to the right.

 

As Jon got onto the horse and urged it into a gallop, the first arrow landed. Far away from Al, but she still saw it.

 

Ramsay loosed his second arrow as Al changed directions and ran left. Jon understood that she was zigzagging but still rode straight toward her.

 

A third arrow missed Al, but she stumbled and fell. As she got up, a fourth flew towards her and she rolled away. It stuck into the ground right next to her.

 

The fifth arrow was loosened, and Al stumbled away from it, beginning to run again. She wasn’t fast enough though. 

 

It pierced her thigh and Jon heard her scream. It drowned out everything around him, but he reached her and picked her up. He wanted to say something, but Al put a hand on his mouth, and he understood. There was no time.

 

So, he hoisted her onto his horse and urged it away from him, from Ramsay. He could see her angry expression, but it was the right thing to do.

 

If anything, it’s payback.

 

The Bolton horn was blown again, and Jon watched as the cavalry lowered their spears for a charge. He was terrified, but if he died, Al would be safe with Tormund and Sansa and all the rest.

 

He remembered what his father had once told him.

 

“Can a man still be brave when he is afraid?” Jon asked his father as they knelt before the heart tree.

 

“That is the only time a man can be brave.” Eddard answered gravely.

 

Jon pulled Longclaw from his scabbard. He’d have to be brave for Sansa, Rickon, Shireen and Wylla, Davos and Tormund, for Edd and Satin at the Wall and for Sam in the Citadel. He’d be brave for Alethia.

 

 

 

 

Alethia’s POV:

 

The oldest Sister, Gally and another healer were fixing up her wounds when Sansa entered the tent.

 

“Can she stand?” Sansa asked and they nodded. Alethia got up and hobbled outside. The horse Jon had ridden to rescue her was snorting impatiently and Sansa gestured her to get up. Alethia grit her teeth and obliged.

 

“What is it?” Alethia groaned.

 

“The Boltons have support from the Crown. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but Cersei wants me dead because of Joffrey.” Sansa explained.

 

“How many?”

 

“A thousand.” Sansa replied.

 

“Well, we still have 1500 more. Send the men out so we have even numbers with the Boltons, retain 1500 of the best. They can act as a boost in the end.” Alethia said and Sansa nodded relaying her command.

 

Alethia turned her horse toward the battle. She couldn’t fight, that would only make her useless. The best she could do was wait for it to end and help with the wounded.

 

The trap had worked and even though there were fewer dead, the Boltons were enclosing the men in the shallow valley.

 

From the hill, Alethia could see the men and a few women fighting. She spotted a mass of red hair and smiled.

 

So, Tormund still fights like a berserker.

 

Her gaze wandered and landed on an almost unrecognizable face. As the men were pressed together, Jon broke through the mass. He wasn’t looking in her direction, but she could see his chest heave in a desperate attempt to breathe. An unbidden thought came into her head like bile in her throat.

 

“Please Al, make it stop.” Grenn’s chest heaved, and his hand reached up.

 

Tears were streaming down her face as she held him.

 

“I can fix this.” She promised him. His head shook ever so slightly. “Please don’t leave me.” She begged.

 

“I’m not leaving. Family gotta stick together.”

 

As a horn sounded, Alethia was ripped from her past. She hastily wiped away the tears that had formed at the memory and watched as the men of the Vale led a charge.

 

Sansa rode up behind her, together with Shireen and Wylla. Mya Stone and Lyanna followed behind them, and at the back, some of the Sisters and Brienne had their hands on their weapons.

 

“Thank you.” Sansa said, “For gathering these forces.”

 

“Anyone would’ve done this.”

 

Sansa snorted. “Brienne tells me we’re winning.”

 

“Then let’s go and retake your home.”

 

“Our home. Seems like the women will have to rebuild it.”

 

“As we always do.”

 

Somewhere behind them, Lyanna Mormont laughed.

 

 

 

 

 

Sansa and Alethia entered Winterfell as Jon was beating Ramsay bloody. Al got off her horse and walked over to Wun Wun, who was lying dead on the ground. She knelt to face the giant, hoping that he’d somehow survived, but as Tormund walked past and patted her on the shoulder, she knew it was for nothing.

 

She got up again and watched as the last Bolton men were captured or taken prisoner and the freshest soldiers swept through the building. At last, Jon seemed to be done with giving commands and turned around. When he saw her, he didn’t hesitate. He ran over and pulled her into a hug.

 

“Ow, you’re gonna crush me.” Al complained.

 

“I told you not to scare me again like that.” Jon said, relieving a little pressure.

 

“You stink.” Alethia complained instead and Jon smiled. “How’s Rickon? Is he safe?” Alethia asked and Jon nodded.

 

“He doesn’t trust anyone, but Shireen talked to him, and she and Sansa got him a room.” Jon replied.

 

“Shireen?” Al asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

“You should’ve seen the way Rickon blushed.” Jon said.

 

“Well, I’m sure he blushed much less than you.” Alethia teased and took Jon’s hand, leading him away from the courtyard and the chambers Sansa had promised for him. Somewhere behind her, Tormund whistled and Alethia showed him the finger.

 

 

 

 

 

A servant was filling a tub with water as they entered but quickly left, leaving soap and a rag behind.

 

“Get in there.” Alethia commanded, arming herself with the rag and soap. Jon raised an eyebrow but obliged and Al turned around, blushing herself. She pulled a stool next to the tub and began with his chest.

 

Still careful not to rip open the scars, she scrubbed him down. Jon said nothing and Alethia enjoyed the comfortable silence between them. Slowly, the water turned red, but Alethia was relieved when she saw that Jon had retained almost no wounds.

 

There was a gash along his forehead, which kept dripping with blood and the bruising on his torso made bad memories come up, but other than that, he seemed alright. Alethia herself could still faintly feel the arrow wound and the cuts, but they were nothing to the hole that oversized icicle had made.

 

Finally, after she’d managed to get all the dirt out of his hair, Alethia threw Jon a towel and left the room in search of healing supplies.

 

Soon after, she returned to a very nice Jon, who was sitting on the edge of the bed with the towel still around his waist.

 

“Are you injured?” he asked her quietly.

 

“Not really. The shit Ramsay did is almost gone already.” Alethia replied. At the mention of Ramsay’s name, she saw Jon’s jaw clench, but relief flooded his face as she reassured him.

 

Carefully, Alethia cleaned the cut and moved on to the bruises. When she got nearer and nearer to his lower abdomen, she tried to ignore all the thoughts her horny adolescent brain was conjuring and actually concentrate.

 

“You’re still wearing too many clothes.” Jon said suddenly, motioning to his towel.

 

“God Jon, I was trying not to think about that.” Alethia replied.

 

“Well, I’m not wrong. Maybe you should take some off.” Jon teased, managing not to blush for once (?!).

 

“Is this your attempt to seduce me, Snow?” Alethia asked, attempting to finish on his bruises, but miserably failing.

 

“Is it working?” Jon asked back.

 

“It wouldn’t if my brain worked properly.” Alethia said and put the pastes away. “Are you sure you want to do this now?” she asked again.

 

“Gods Alethia, sometimes I’m not sure what you want.”

 

“Right now, I want you, dickhead.” Alethia replied, kissing him before he could say anything stupid.

 

Jon broke the kiss and Alethia already had a complaint in mind, but he only locked the door properly. Now, Alethia was seriously having trouble with her imagination. Abruptly, she stood up, but froze, not knowing where she should go. Really, her brain had been fried a few seconds ago.

 

“Tormund’s not gonna let this go, he’ll keep bragging about his amazing skills at dissecting about-to-have-sex moments.” Alethia brabbled on.

 

“I really don’t want to talk about Tormund right now.” Jon breathed and kissed Al again. Despite having kissed Jon so many times, she froze for a second.

 

Then, she stumbled backwards onto the bed, pulling Jon with her. He tugged at her dress, and she sat up again, bumping her head against his. They both laughed and Alethia slowed down a little.

 

“Are you sure?” Jon asked again and Alethia nodded. “Yeah, I want to do this.” She said.

 

She felt Jon’s hands wander down to the small of her back, holding her close. “Seems like I have to do everything myself.” Alethia muttered and began opening the laces of her dress at the front. Jon stopped for a second and chuckled.

 

He helped her pull the dress over her head and began opening her stay. Alethia closed her eyes and rested her head against Jon’s shoulder. Finally, the stay was off and only a shift between them. Even though she’d walked around him in a shift before, Alethia shivered a little.

 

Jon stood up and walked to the fireplace to start a fire. Alethia groaned. “What are you doing?” she asked him.

 

“I want to take this slow. Besides, I wouldn’t want my lady love to be cold.”

 

“Is that what I am? Your lady love.” Alethia questioned and Jon nodded, still turned to the fire. Determined to throw him off, Alethia pulled off the shift, just to spite Jon.

 

Jon turned around and his mouth fell open for a second, before he almost ran back and kissed Alethia, hands roaming her body. Alethia broke the kiss.

 

“Now you’re the one wearing too many things.”

 

Jon said nothing but laid Alethia down onto the bed. She enjoyed the feeling of being valued and despite her immortality, being handled like something fragile. She cupped his face as he hovered above her and traced the gash on his forehead.

 

Jon trailed a hand along the scars on her face and kissed her again, before lowering his lips and kissing on her neck.

 

He stopped dead and when Alethia opened her eyes, she saw that he was tracing some of the red cuts on her chest and stomach. His eyes darkened but he said nothing.

 

“Jon, it was the price to pay for your brother’s life. I’d do it again if that was what it took.” Alethia whispered.

 

“Don’t say that, please. It’s not fair.” He replied, resting his head on her stomach.

 

“What is?”

 

“That you have these scars. We’re barely adults and we have scars and stories that most men don’t gather in three lifetimes.”

 

“Aye, but we lived through it all, and honestly, the position I’m in right now makes it totally worth it.” Alethia replied and Jon grinned. A dimple appeared on his face and Alethia reached to the back of his head to get his hair out of a top knot. It looked way better when it was loose.

 

“What?” Alethia asked when Jon looked at her questioningly, “I like your hair when it’s all loose and curly.”

 

“I like it when you say aye the northern way.” Jon confessed.

 

“Aye.” Alethia repeated. “Like that?”

 

Jon nodded, and Alethia only then noticed that his pupils were almost fully expanded.

 

“God, Jon you look like you’ll die if you don’t ravish me on the spot.” Alethia laughed.

 

“Maybe I will.” Jon replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

 

“You talk too much.” Alethia teased.

 

“So do you.” Jon replied, but kissed her nonetheless, continuing his way down her body.

 

Goddamn, if he does that thing with his tongue- Alethia’s thoughts were interrupted by Jon doing just that and she grabbed a handful of his hair, pushing him down. Her hands were a sorry excuse for this.

 

She felt him do something even nicer and moaned. Jon, in turn, chuckled and Alethia felt herself getting more and more turned on when he stopped again.

 

Alethia pulled him up to face her. “Fuck you.” She said and kissed him.

 

“I believe you already are.” Jon replied.

 

He’s got it coming. Alethia blindly let her hands wander down his body and found Jon’s dick, thanking all the gods that she had started reading Wattpad at 12 years old.

 

Jon growled and bit down on her shoulder. That cunt actually kept his promise.

 

Afterwards, Alethia completely lost track of time. All she could say for sure was that Jon knew what he was doing. But every time he teased her; she’d return the favor with a vengeance.

 

 

 

 

 

Alethia felt her chest heave as she lied next to Jon on the furs.

 

“You’re good. For a man sworn to celibacy a few months ago, anyways.” Alethia said.

 

“Fuck off.” Jon said, but pulled her closer to him by the waist. He grabbed down and pulled a few furs up.

 

“If I say, ‘make me’ will you kiss me again?” she asked. Jon nodded, and kissed her softly.

 

“You know, you’re not too bad for someone who’s never fucked a man herself.” Jon whispered in her ear. Alethia rolled her eyes.

 

“I’m serious, where’d you get all that experience from?” Jon asked. Alethia propped herself up on her elbows.

 

“You know, the place I’m from has a lot of books and some of them can be quite educational.”

 

“You look very cute when you smartass me.”

 

“Mhm, indeed I do.” Alethia replied, tiredly burrowing even closer to Jon, and piling up furs around them.

 

She felt Jon trace along her neck. “How are you going to cover these up?” he asked. Alethia was sure he meant the hickeys that were already forming.

 

“The question is if you want them covered up.” Alethia said and pulled the hand back to her waist.

 

“How improper.”

 

“Since when have either of us ever been proper.” Alethia reveled in the warmth, glad that some servant or another would probably be sent with dinner for them. For now, she could close her eyes and rest. But there was one more thing she wanted to say before that.

 

“Jon?”

 

“Hmm?” Jon asked, not opening his eyes.

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you too, Alethia. With all my heart.”

Notes:

Yay, Winterfell is back in the hands of the Starks and Al and Jon finally did the do. First Smut, so pls don’t hate. Honestly, I know that the intense sex after battle is a nice cliché but they’re both exhausted and it’s their first time, so I wanted it to be something slow.

Pray for my soul, I almost died while writing the smut, honestly don’t know how other ppl do this it’s terrifying and so fucking funny at the same time (even though it wasn't even real smut lmao)

ASSKJDSJJSFJ THEY BOTH SAID THE L-WORD

Chapter 48: The King in the North

Summary:

Honestly, a filler chapter. A few more of these until we reach Dragonstone and the plot gets more intense again - sorry

Notes:

I haven’t watched seasons 7 and 8 and I won’t either. I have seen the recaps and will include some iconic lines/dialogue but it’s all non-canon from here.

Jon’s POV:

 

“The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North!”

 

The chants echoed faintly in Jon’s ears as he looked around the hall. The seat next to him, reserved for Alethia, was empty. He’d seen her a few hours ago as she rushed to the room that had been declared as the infirmary to help Maester Cressen, bundled up in furs.

 

 

As the chants quieted down, the chair next to him scraped against the floor and Alethia quietly sat down next to him. She was wearing one of her old dresses. When he saw a decoration catch the light, he recognized the dress she’d worn at his trial when she was still first ranger.

 

 

When Alys Karstark and Ned Umber stepped forward, he returned their seats to them, as Alethia had advised. He could tell that Sansa wasn’t happy, but this was what was best for the North. When he announced that the women would train to fight, many in the hall were disquieted.

 

 

“I don’t plan on knitting by the fireplace while men fight for me. I may be small, and I may be a girl, but I am every bit as much a Northerner as you, Lord Glover.” Lyanna Mormont said.

 

 

Alethia nodded and spoke as well. Jon could tell that she was nervous, but her voice was strong and carried throughout the hall.

 

 

“Women make up half of the population, and more, now that there have been so many wars and battles the men went off to fight in. We need more fighters. If some of us won’t fight, we may very well lose this war. And then what? In history, women have picked up the weapons of their husbands to fight themselves when there was no one left to grant them protection. Lord Glover, wouldn’t you rather that your daughters knew how to fight, just in case?”

 

 

The man bowed his head and Alethia went on, “It is true that women often have a disadvantage in strength when it comes to fighting. But not all weapons require strength and there are other traits needed to make a good warrior. Which is why women won’t only be training in the courtyard, there will also be women instructing soldiers. I expect that each and every Lord or Lady instructs their folk to be respectful to these instructors, no matter the gender. I have dealt with enough disrespect and personally, will have no problem with dishing out punishments.”

 

 

A few of the highborn in the hall nodded in agreement.

 

“There is one more thing.” Jon said. “The castles along the Wall must be manned and the Night’s Watch only has 98 men left. The Free Folk will man these Castles, as they know the climate best. They will be joined by the clansmen, to whom they are closest in mannerisms.”

 

 

“Looks like we’re the Night’s Watch now.” Tormund said, and the men around him laughed.

 

 

After the “court” was dismissed, Al quickly left. Jon stayed a little longer, talking with Sansa and letting her introduce him to other Lords and Ladies. His sister was good at this, unlike him, and presumably, Al. Shireen walked with them, talking to old acquaintances and new faces.

 

 

A man entered the hall and gave the young lady a scroll, which she read. She walked up to Jon and Davos, who had joined them and told them the contents.

 

“I wrote letters to the houses of the Stormlands. Most of them have declared for Daenerys Targaryen already, but two houses will travel North to aid us.”

 

 

“Which ones?” Davos asked.

 

“The Florents and the Hulls. And curiously, the Sand Snakes have written from Dorne.” Shireen added, holding up a second letter.

 

 

“What does that letter say?” Jon asked. The Sand Snakes had secretly fascinated him all his life, bastards like him but yet fierce and strong in their own right.

 

“I do not know. It’s addressed to Alethia.” Shireen said, before leaving for the infirmary.

 

 

Another figure approached him, and Jon turned around to see the bastard girl from the Vale, Mya Stone, standing in front of him.

 

 

“Your Grace.” She began, clumsily curtsying. She instantly reminded Jon of Al’s first attempts.

 

“There’s no need for that.” Jon hastily said and shook her hand. “After all, we’re both bastards.”

 

 

Mya Stone gave a slight smile. “About that. I would like to fight for Winterfell. I grew up in the Vale, but I wasn’t liked there. Here, I have a chance to learn how to fight. My father was a great warrior, as was yours. I want to be like him.”

 

 

Jon nodded and promised that she would be allowed to fight. When another lady approached him, he almost groaned. This was much harder without Sansa.

 

 

 

 

 

Alethia’s POV:

 

 

Shireen gave her the letter after a brief hello and began to help Gally without another word. Alethia admired Shireen for her work ethic.

 

 

“Shireen? Sansa wishes to dine with all the ladies that have been arriving lately. Can you invite Mya Stone?” she quickly asked, and Shireen nodded. Nervously, Alethia opened the letter. When she saw the handwriting, her mouth fell open.

 

 

Hi Alethia. You missed me?

 

 

I’m writing to you from Dragonstone, this huge, dark pile of bad architecture and really hope you’re still alive. Daenerys Targaryen (who is a snack btw) wants the King in the North (John?!) to come and bend the knee (the politics here are rad bullshit), thought I’d give you a small heads-up.

 

I hope you’re not mad that I kinda started dating this girl while I thought you were in another universe, but oh well. My friend/auntie Ellaria is looking for revenge against Cersei and I really like her so maybe help us out here? Didn’t Arry and Sarah hate the Lannisters too?

 

The dragons are super-cool so come pay us a visit. They started calling me Lady Serpent ‘cause I can apparently manipulate fire so that’s cool and I heard you can’t die. Look at us, fucking rip-off avengers.

 

Thia, I miss you. Seriously, get your ass over here. I haven’t been able to talk abt the old world in a hot minute and while the people I met are amazing I miss home. I miss my hot ex too.

-Morgan (now the pretty best friend)

 

 

 

Alethia smiled as she read the familiar handwriting again and ran a finger over her old nickname. While she knew that Morgan was in Dorne, she hadn’t known that her ex (apparently) was dating a Sand Snake and also in Dragonstone with Daenerys.

 

 

She was suddenly very glad that a familiar face would be at Dragonstone when Jon would go.

 

 

As she tucked the letter away, Jon came in and quickly gave her a peck on the cheek.

 

 

“I take it you want to know what the letter said, your Grace?” Alethia mocked, doubling over in bows and curtsies and Jon nodded, rolling his eyes.

 

 

“My ex-girlfriend is apparently in Dragonstone and wanted to warn me that Daenerys Targaryen wants you to bend the knee. She also wants our help against the Lannisters.”

 

 

Jon raised an eyebrow. “What do you think we should do?”

 

 

“Morgan’s a rational person. We can make a deal, that if Dorne supports us against the White Walkers, we’ll help them get rid of Cersei.”

 

 

The rest of the day went by in a blur and soon, Alethia and Jon were back in their now-shared chambers. The dinner with the ladies had been a breath of fresh air and Alethia enjoyed speaking with other women for once. She’d talked exclusively to men for almost the last three years and apart from Jon, Sam, and a few others most of them hadn’t been savory company.

 

 

“Good evening, your Grace.” Alethia teased.


“You won’t ever let that go, huh?”

 

 

“Nope.”

 

 

“You know, we never celebrated your nameday.” Jon suddenly said.

 

 

“My nameday? I guess I forgot about it when we were marching.”

 

 

“Well, it’s never too late.” Jon said, wiggling his eyebrows and Alethia chuckled. She smacked him on the shoulder, and he dramatically hauled her up, carrying her to bed bridal-style.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A few hours later, both of them were lying side by side, very much satisfied.

 

 

“Gotta say, that was one of the best presents I’ve ever gotten.” Alethia admitted. She cuddled close to Jon, who put an arm around her. She felt safe with him protecting her and soon, she felt herself falling asleep.

 

 

The room was dark as Alethia paced around. Pyp was sitting in the corner, handing her something to eat.

 

 

“I should go.” Pyp muttered and waved to the table. As he walked to the door, blood began pouring out of a wound in his throat. Alethia heard his body thump on the ground. She looked out of the window and onto the familiar courtyard of Castle Black.

 

 

Grenn was laid on the pyre, his face purple. Snow was melting in his hair and Alethia turned away. If he came back, she didn’t want to see it happen.

 

 

She looked through the room and saw an open book. She could see the blood-red ink, still drying. She smiled as she saw how well-kept the records were because of Sam. It seemed that a part of him was in what he did – literally.

 

 

Finally, her eyes fell on the table. The wounds were in stark contrast to the pale skin of the man’s torso. Her gaze wandered up and she gasped as she noticed that the skin had begun to fall off the skull of the man. She stood and took the skull in her hand.

 

 

With a crunch, it fell from the body. It rolled onto the side and Alethia saw that the other half was still intact. The eye opened – blue instead of gray and Alethia screamed as she recognized the dimple in Jon’s face.

 

 

She screamed and screamed and screamed.

 

 

The hands were grasping her body and Alethia began to struggle as she awoke, scratching an arm.

 

 

As her eyes focused, she saw Jon, gray eyes staring into hers.

 

 

“I’m so sorry. Sorry Jon.” She began to apologize and got out of the bed. It would be better if she slept somewhere where she didn’t bother anyone.

 

 

“Al? What are you doing?”

 

 

“I should go. It’s better if I find another place to sleep.”

 

 

Jon sighed. He got out of bed and wrapped his arms around Alethia. “I get the dreams too. It’s fine, Al.”

 

 

“No, it’s not. I almost killed you once, what if I do it again? I feel safe with you when I fall asleep, but then I dream of Grenn and Pyp and watch you and Sam and Edd die and- “

 

 

“I feel safe with you too. Al, you won’t kill me.” Jon replied. Alethia sobbed and shuffled over to him. He pulled a cloak from where it had fallen that evening and wrapped them both into it as they watched the fire.

 

 

Alethia felt Jon’s hand in her hair and leaned against him.

 

 

“Alethia?” Jon asked into the quiet.

 

 

“Yeah?”

 

 

“How do you say ‘I love you’ in your language?” Jon asked. Alethia looked up at him.

 

 

She wanted to say something snarky but instead just told him the proper translation. “Ich liebe dich. I- Jon, it holds much more meaning to me when I say it in my language. I wanted to say it to you when you were dead on that table. It’s heavier in my language.”

 

 

Jon nodded. He understood, Alethia knew he did. He paused, and then spoke, trying to wrap his tongue around the words and foreign pronunciation.

 

 

“I mean it, Al.” he added. Alethia smiled.

 

“Let’s go back to bed.” She said and Jon stood, offering her his hand. She took it and they got comfortable again. Alethia stared at the ceiling, the stone in this room which had remained intact and turned away.

She closed her eyes. The ceiling was too much like that in Castle Black – better not think about it.

Notes:

Wow it's the last saturday of these summer holiday, and I'm super disappointed. I wanted to have a nice summer and go out and do stuff - now that I'm older. And I can confidently say that Covid is not only interfering with my day to day life but also ruining my teenage experience. I could do absolutely nothing this summer but I also really don't want to go back to school, as I just got my timetable and it's absolutely bonkers - I mean, who plans for lunch at 11:45 and then has the kids stay until 5:00 (with only one ten minute break after lunch too????). I can already feel my permanent stress levels rising to an all-time high and staying there for the next academic year. Lol, at this point I don't think I'll ever have a cool summer holiday, never mind go on vacation with my parents again until I move out.

 

Sorry, just needed to vent rq

Chapter 49: Last man standing

Summary:

Sansa and Alethia talk about old friends, Jon is a worried King, Shireen and Rickon are kinda crushing and Bran returns.

Notes:

I have no motivation to work on my novel! Enjoy : ).

Also, a few relationships that I’m so happy to go more into:

>Friendships: Tormund and Wylla, Rickon and Gally, Shireen and Sansa, Sansa and Shae, Sansa and Alethia, Missandei and Tyrion (so underrated), Shireen and Lyanna Mormont, Shireen and Wylla, Morgan and Alethia, the Sand Snakes, Ellaria and Morgan, Olenna and Varys, Night’s Watch Fam

 

>beginnings of relationships: Alys Karstark and Ned Umber (probably only very lowkey though), Shireen and Rickon (yep, we’re going there), and probably one of the sisters and a Wildling/Thenn, Rakharo Irri and Jhiqui bc they deserve to be are alive (poly relationships yay!), Bran and Meera, Morgan and Obara, (Yara and a possible fem!ironborn!OC)

 

I feel like the show didn’t go into friendships that much after a few seasons and these teens deserve to be happy…

Alethia finished instructing a few new archers as Jon walked onto the courtyard, worry apparent in his face. She waited patiently until he arrived at her side and finished instructing the women and men in the courtyard. From the smithy, the steady ring of the hammer on the anvil could be heard. Winterfell didn’t have much obsidian, but what had been fund in old stores and the crypts was being used well.

 

 

As Jon had been stopped by a guard, Alethia turned back to her pupils. Though Lyanna and Wylla, who was brilliant at shooting, were training, Shireen wasn’t present, as she and Sansa were going through reports and letters together. Rickon sat on the railing, watching the other archers shoot.

 

 

“Aren’t you going to come over and join?” Alethia called out to him. The contrast between the Rickon in the Bolton camp and this Rickon was stark. His wildling clothes had been replaced by a Lord’s attire, and he had returned to speaking common tongue instead of the Old Tongue. Still, he was uncomfortable with many Lords and Ladies. He had formed a curious friendship with the oldest of the sisters, Gally, though and Alethia could tell that he had a huge crush on Shireen.

 

 

Slowly, Rickon jumped off the railing and walked over. Alethia handed him a bow and let him shoot at the target. As the boy began to get comfortable, Jon finally approached her.

 

 

“Your Grace!” she exclaimed, incessantly bowing. Jon rolled his eyes “What’s going on?” Alethia asked him.

 

 

“Sam told me that there’s a lot of Dragonglass on Dragonstone. I wouldn’t think it necessary to go there if it weren’t for the glass.”

 

 

“Well, then why don’t you go South, ask for her cooperation and bring me and Shireen for good measure, and promise not to interfere with her conquest below the Neck.”

 

 

“You want me to go South?”

 

 

“She’s a queen. She expects a King and it’ll be easier if you just go and get what we need instead of her sending me back while the dead march. I know the Northern Lords won’t be happy but you could always just say what I said, and besides, Winterfell will be in good hands with Sansa.”

 

 

“What if they make Rickon King?” Jon asked nervously.

 

“I doubt that they’ll betray you like that. And besides Jon, Rickon doesn’t want to be anything, not right now. Even if he does agree, Sansa will rule through him. She won’t turn her back on you.”

 

 

“How do you know?”

 

 

Alethia lowered her voice. “Because the one time she did, she started a chain event which lead to the fall of house Stark and her marriage to Ramsay.”

 

 

Just as she finished speaking, Rickon joined them in an awkward silence, but as Sansa and Shireen appeared on the upper balcony and began to make their way down to the courtyard, Alethia smirked. As the ladies approached, Rickon began to blush.

 

 

“Here comes the Lady Baratheon, Rickon.” Alethia teased.

 

 

Rickon huffed and elbowed her in the side. Jon raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know much about politics, but I think you two would make an excellent match.” He added.

 

“Shut up.” Rickon muttered.

 

 

“Hello Al!” Shireen called. “Hi Rickon. Your Grace.” She added and curtsied. Sansa nodded curtly.

 

 

“The court will begin soon, Jon and I thought you might want over a few reports. Maester Wolkan is standing by in the solar. Jon nodded and left, and as Shireen spotted the bow Rickon was holding, she quickly began to excitedly chatter with him about bows and arrows.

 

 

Sansa smiled. “It seems both my brothers have their eyes on someone.”

 

Alethia snorted. “So it would seem.” She slightly had to look up at tall Sansa, who held an air of nobility as she gazed over the courtyard with her ice-blue orbs (I just couldn’t help myself, sorry y’all).

 

 

“I heard that you and Shireen are getting along quite well?” Alethia asked.

 

 

“Yes, but I wish I had someone my age. She doesn’t quite understand everything I talk about.” Sansa replied. Alethia nodded.

 

 

“Well, right now I’m here. I get how you feel. My friends died in a battle. Holy shit, that’s already a year in the past now!” Alethia exclaimed.

 

 

Sansa smirked. “I used to think shift was the word for shit. It’s a wonder Tyrion and my friend didn’t burst out in laughter when I said that.”

 

 

“Your friend? You mean Margaery?” Alethia asked. Hadn’t that been Shae?

 

 

Sansa shook her head. “Margaery wasn’t really my friend. Her name was Shae. She was my handmaiden and I sincerely hope that she is still alive, but from what I’ve heard, it’s not very likely. Who were your friends?” she asked, and looked at Alethia.

 

 

“Their names were Pyp and Grenn. Pyp was a mummer before he came to the Watch and then he was a steward with me and Grenn was a builder. I saw him die.” She said, and paused.

 

 

“But I try to remember them as what they were. They were the most loyal friends anyone could ask for. Grenn was kind and compassionate and thick-headed as a bull when it came to his friends, and Pyp could always make you laugh or feel better, no matter what. They were good people.”

 

 

Sansa nodded. “Looking back, I should’ve known that Tyrion and Shae were together. She wasn’t exactly proper or courteous, but she was fierce and protective of me, and she was ready to defend me to the death. I should’ve realized that. If she had come to Winterfell with me, I am sure that she would’ve attempted to kill every Bolton in this castle, and then the rest of their men.”

 

 

Alethia smiled a little. “She seems like an amazing person.”

 

 

“She was. And there was another woman who protected me, I think. Do you remember the woman who visited Theon sometimes? Ros?”

 

 

Alethia nodded.

 

 

“She became Littlefinger’s spy, but I am sure that she tried her best to keep him away from me. From what I’ve heard spies and other people tell me, she made Shae promise to take care of me. I never understood what it meant when father said ‘the North remembers’. Ros remembered though, and she was loyal until she disappeared.”

 

 

Alethia carefully squeezed a gloved hand. “I know that Ros and Shae are both dead, and I am so sorry about that. But Sansa, Theon is still alive. Write to him and if you can find it in your heart, forgive him and tell him that Winterfell’s gates will always be open to him. He needs to hear it.”

 

 

Sansa said nothing, but Alethia knew that she would find a quiet place to write a scroll for Theon. Suddenly, people began streaming into the Great Hall and Sansa and Alethia quickly followed so that they’d be able to take their places at the dais.

 

 

The court began with the usual things Alethia had grown used to: smallfolk addressing their problems and complaints, the highborn asking for a favor or another and a lot of whispers. As the last minor lordling returned to the back of the hall, content with his replaced horse, Jon cleared his throat.

 

 

“The Targaryen Queen, Daenerys, has sent a letter, summoning me to Dragonstone to bend the knee.”

 

 

Murmurs passed through the hall as Lords and Ladies weighed the meaning of this.

 

 

“I have decided to go South, but not so I can bend the knee. Dragonstone has huge amounts of Dragonglass, which we need to fight the dead. From what I have heard, Daenerys Targaryen is prideful, but reasonable. I understand that many of you are not happy with me leaving so soon after being appointed King, but Daenerys expects to see someone of her standing, and we need the Dragonglass.”

 

 

Though the whispers were still quiet, an uproar went through the hall. Many Lords were openly shaking their heads and frowning. Jon silenced them and spoke again.

 

 

“I know that many of you may not be satisfied with this choice, but I am leaving the North in good hands. My sister, Sansa, will serve as Wardeness of the North. My brother has chosen to abandon his right of inheritance for now. Lady Stahl and Lady Baratheon as well as Ser Davos will accompany me to Dragonstone. Ser Wylis, I trust that your father will have a ship ready for us?”

 

 

The knight nodded and Alethia sighed a breath of relief as the hall emptied. Just as the last person left, a slim figure entered the hall.

 

 

“Yes?” Sansa asked tiredly. The figure lowered their hood.

 

“Meera?” Alethia exclaimed. She remembered the girl from Craster’s Keep.

 

 

She nodded. Jon looked between her and Alethia. “What is the meaning of this?”

 

 

“This is Meera Reed, the daughter of Howland Reed. She rescued Bran from Winterfell.”

 

 

“And where is my brother now?” Sansa asked.

 

 

“He is waiting in the Godswood, my lady.” Meera replied.


“I welcome you to Winterfell, Lady Reed.” Jon began and waved a hand, to which one of the guards stepped forward. “Have a chamber prepared for Lady Reed.”

 

 

Jon turned back to her. “Do you bring any companions?” Meera shook her head.

 

 

“I am sorry for your loss, Meera, but I hope you will be happy to hear that Rickon made it back to Winterfell.” Alethia added. She stood with Sansa and Jon but remained in the Great Hall as the siblings left to greet their brother. She did not want to interrupt their reunion. Instead, Alethia walked forward to meet Meera where she was still awkwardly standing.

 

 

“You were the woman who saved us in Craster’s Keep?” Meera asked.

 

 

“Yes, but Bran has probably told you about me.”

 

 

Meera nodded. Alethia noticed that she was shaking and still pale. She felt a pang in her chest as she remembered everything that Meera had gone through. Alethia had no problem with beating sense into Bran if needed though.

 

 

“I meant it when I said I was sorry Meera. Let’s get you warm and clean and if you want, you can join the other trainees in the yard or explore Winterfell. It’s up to you, really.”

 

 

A small smile appeared on Meera’s face.

 

 

“I’d like that.” She agreed shyly and followed Alethia through the halls of Winterfell. As they entered another hallway, Alethia spotted Rickon and Shireen walking towards them. Rickon’s eyes grew wide as he recognized Meera.

 

 

“Meera? I was just in the Godswood but-“ he began, and hugged the girl tightly. Meera hugged Rickon back, clinging onto him. As they broke apart, Shireen stepped forward. Alethia wasn’t sure how she managed to be so graceful, instead of making this awkward.

 

 

“I’m Shireen Baratheon. Nice to meet you.” She said, extending her hand. Meera shook it.

 

 

“Meera Reed.” She replied.

 

 

“Is it true that crannogmen hunt with three-pronged spears and a net?” Shireen asked, and Meera nodded. Her smile widened and Alethia knew that Shireen had yet again managed to have another closed off person open up to her.

 

“We do, men and women.” Meera replied proudly, “and I am quite good at it too.”

 

 

“Well, maybe you could teach us sometime. I am sure my friends would love to learn. And in turn, perhaps we could teach you something else too.”

 

 

“You and your friends? Are you training to fight?”

 

 

“Yes, the entire North is preparing. My friends are Wylla Manderly and Lyanna Mormont. I think they’d be thrilled to meet you, but I won’t keep you from settling in any longer.” Shireen promised and smiled again.

 

 

Then, she and Rickon walked further down the hallway. Alethia said nothing, instead walking with Meera, who seemed to be much more happy now that she knew at least one new person.

 

 

At the door, Alethia stopped Meera once more.

 

 

“Meera, you don’t have to fight in the Long Night, you’ve already done more than enough.”

 

 

The girl’s eyes filled with tears, and she nodded, before closing the door behind her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Alethia walked towards the Heartree, Bran sat in the wheelchair she had attempted to design so hastily a few weeks ago. Like the emo-dramaqueen he was, his head was turned away from her, looking at the great weirwood.

 

 

“Hello Bran.” Alethia greeted.

 

“You knew about everything.” Bran said, turning around. He wasn’t accusing her, it was simply… a statement.

 

 

“Up until now, but I’ve made changes. Who knows how it will go on from here.”

 

 

“You saved Shireen and Rickon. And you saved me, partially.” Alethia nodded.

 

 

“From what Sansa has told me, you and Jon are going to Dragonstone.” Bran stated and Alethia nodded in agreement again.

 

 

 

Was this really the reunion he wanted?

 

“I- um, how is Meera settling in?” Bran suddenly stuttered. Huh?

 

“She’s fine, I think. Shireen talked to her, and she’ll introduce her to a few friends tonight. Bran, if you want her to feel comfortable, thank her. She lost a lot because of you, and she lost a purpose too, now that her quest is over. You owe her at least a few words of gratitude.”

 

“I will.” Bran promised.

 

“And Bran, I don’t know what you know about Jon’s parentage, but it would be better if no one discussed that at the moment. We have enough shit on our hands, no need for the possibility of another Targaryen.”

 

Alethia turned to leave but Bran called her back. “Alethia! The former three-eyed-raven told me something. He gave you your immortality to fight the dead. Just as he gave your friend the power to manipulate fire. Those powers, they’ll vanish with the defeat of the dead.”

 

“How are you so sure we’ll defeat them?”

 

“With your immortality, you’ll be alive until the Night King has perished. If that means that you are going to be the last person in Westeros, so be it.”

 

A cold shiver ran through Alethia at that thought and she nodded, hastily leaving the godswood.

Notes:

Totally forgot to post yesterday, sorry :/

I decided to have Sansa realize that Margaery was probably only using her to give Highgarden more power and call Shae her only friend bc I think their relationship is underappreciated. Also, I wanted to have a little more backstory to the relationships between Sansa and Shae, Shae and Ros, Ros and Sansa. Just bc the writers didn’t go into them (probably bc Shae and Ros were sexworkers), doesn’t mean I won’t. There’s so much that isn’t talked abt in those few scenes.

This fic might go onto hiatus after this chapter (probably not though), as I have a lot of stuff going on rn. I guess I'll still manage to post somehow :)

Chapter 50: Sea Sickness and Honeymoons of sorts

Summary:

travelling to dragonstone, smut?, another little filler

Notes:

TW: smut? Slut shaming(ish)

Alethia was almost ready to shed a tear as she hugged Rickon goodbye. She was glad that Shireen was coming with her, otherwise she was certain she would’ve bawled her eyes out.

 

Quite a few highborn, and lowborn, stood assembled in the courtyard to say goodbye to their king and his strange adviser-mistress as some less savory people called her. Because Tormund had left, and Shireen was already out the gates with Davos, Wylla stood in the courtyard looking a little forlorn but tried to make conversation with Lyanna, nonetheless.

 

Meera stood beside Bran, quietly talking to him while Sansa proudly saw the group off. Rickon though had jumped out of line to say goodbye to Shireen. Alethia found them adorable.

 

 

…

 

 

It was a few days later and their caravan had finally arrived at White Harbor. Davos seemed the happiest out of all of them, excited to be back by the sea. Shireen seemed mildly excited to see Dragonstone again, while Gella, who had insisted to come with to protect her princess, was a little pale at the thought of taking a boat across the sea.

 

“It stretches beyond what the eye can see.” Gella murmured as they stood at the port of White Harbor. It was a cloudy day, and fog covered some parts of the city and the ocean, but Gella’s statement was true.

 

“Let’s hope we don’t get caught in a storm.” Alethia replied. Gella wasn’t one who liked false comforts. She wanted to be faced with the truth, so that was what Alethia gave her.

 

Though Ser Wylis and his daughter had remained in Winterfell, the people of White Harbor warmly welcomed the King in the North and his best advisor (though some murmured the words ‘concubine’ and ‘consort’).

 

The Lord Manderly offered his hospitality profusely, Jon refused, and their group left as soon as they arrived.

 

As the boat left the Harbor, Jon dared to slip an arm around Alethia’s waist.

 

“They are calling you my consort.” He said.

 

“They are calling me your whore.” Alethia muttered back, sharpening a few arrow tips. Gella sat next to her, ignoring the conversation and handing Alethia new tips to sharpen.

 

Jon’s eyes darkened and Alethia knew that he wanted to jump to her defense. If it were up to him, he would probably turn the boat around and hold a speech about her honor in the Harbor.

 

“It doesn’t matter Jon. Not to me.” Alethia said.

 

“People will always talk.” Shireen agreed. She sat next to Gella, taking over a few of her own arrow tips. It was a strange sight to behold. A princess and a Free Folk sharpening arrows together, next to a woman from another world, who was now the King’s girlfriend.

 

Alethia smiled at the thought. Who would’ve thought that her life would take such a turn?

 

…

 

As the sun set, the people on the boat settled down a little. Davos laughed as Tormund threw up over the railing, while Jon was a little green, he managed to keep his food down. Gella looked miserable, but Shireen patted her on the back, and the two made easy conversation.

 

“So… do you maybe want to go to the cabin?” Alethia suggested, trying her hardest not to look at Jon. She could feel his eyes burning into her skull. Without saying another word, he grabbed her hand and pulled her away.

 

Alethia felt the wind whip her hair in the air as she almost ran after him and only saw Davos’ raised eyebrows and Shireen and Gella giggling flash by. She almost stumbled down the stairs after Jon, who slammed the door shut after her.

 

“You’re just feeding into the rumors, Al.” Jon whispered between kisses.

 

“Aye, and I don’t care, your Grace.” Alethia mocked.

 

Jon pinned her against the wall of the shaking cabin. “You have no idea what you do to me.” He said.

 

Well, that was a sentence that I thought I’d only ever read on Ao3. Alethia thought.

 

“Maybe I do it on purpose, Crow.” She said.

 

“You’re one to talk, Lady Black.”

 

They stumbled towards the bed, but as the boat hit a wave, Alethia tumbled onto the floor while Jon hit his head on a bedpost.

 

“Ow, fucking shit.” Jon cursed.

 

“Happy accidents.” Alethia shrugged, pulling him onto the bed.

 

…

 

Alethia already felt her eyes close as the ship attempted to rock her into sleep. Suddenly, she felt Jon prop himself up beside her. She sighed and pulled the furs up as she leaned against his chest.

 

“What is it?” she asked him. She felt Jon trace patterns on her naked arm, which made it even harder to focus on any thought in her head.

 

“Do you ever want to have children?” Jon asked her. Alethia abruptly sat up and the furs fell down, scraping against the scar on her stomach.

 

“I-“ she began. “Before I came to Westeros, definitely not. It would’ve been so much harder to have an actual career with kids and the pain of pregnancy is terrible. Besides, my girlfriend at the time didn’t want any either. But now that I’m here, I’m not sure. It would be expected of me, right?”

 

Jon nodded. “But you don’t have to.”

 

“So many mothers die in childbirth in Westeros.” She sighed. “I think maybe... If we kill the dead and actually can rebuild the North, then perhaps…” she trailed off.

 

“Do you?” Alethia asked in return.

 

“Not when I was a bastard, no. But now I’m a king, and it’ll only be a matter of time until Lords offer their daughters. I’d like to have children, but only with you, Al.”

 

Alethia looked up at him. “You’re too good at making me fall even more in love Jon.” She whispered. He smiled and bowed his head, dark locks falling into his face.

 

“That’s coming from the woman who made me jealous of Jaime Lannister a few weeks after I met her.” He replied, placing a kiss on the crown of her head.

 

Alethia laughed, laying her head back onto his chest. “Gotta admit it, you’ve always been a fine hunk of meat.”

 

She felt his chuckle reverberate in his chest as he pulled the furs back over them. In that moment, Alethia was happier and less worried than she’d been in a long time. It was true to her, Jon’s arms meant safety, and warmth.

 

 

…

 

 

Alethia heard the screech of what could only be a dragon in the distance as their boat neared the rocky cliffs of Dragonstone.

 

She shared a look with Shireen, who nodded. She, Jon and Davos all knew that it was crucial to present Shireen as a lady, and not a princess to the dragon queen. Alethia clutched the ring and the letter tightly in her hand. D&D had pulled the mad queen arc out of their asses. Daenerys Targaryen was a reasonable politician and a diplomat. They’d manage.

 

Davos helped Shireen get off the boat while Jon offered Alethia his arm, which she ignored. Instead, she jumped off the boat and gave another curtesy to Jon, who rolled his eyes. They had barely stepped onto land when a dragon flew overhead.

 

Alethia stopped in her footsteps. She knew the dragons were impressive, they had been in the show, but her laptop screen hadn’t done them any justice. Honestly, whatever team designed them hadn’t either.

 

It was Rhaegal that flew overhead. The bronze plates and horns shimmered in the sun, contrasting his deep green scales. When Alethia looked at him, she felt something deep in her bones. It was similar to the feeling that she had felt when she’d first dreamt of the Night King, but completely different.

She felt like her bones were on fire, but in a good way. The close distance to the dragon made her warm from the inside and when she dared to look him in the eyes, Rhaegal stared back with an intensity that even the Night King couldn’t muster up (or Jon when he was brooding for that matter).

 

Truly, the dragon was magnificent and hauntingly beautiful. Her moment of awe was ruined by the approaching Dothraki. Alethia could tell, even from this distance, that they were not accustomed to the cold.

 

She took Jon by the arm and walked towards them proudly. They crossed their scythes to block her way, saying something in the rough Dothraki tongue. Before Alethia could say anything else, a girl about Shireen’s age pushed past them.

 

Alethia recognized her immediately, despite the age gap between her and her actress.

 

“The bloodriders of the queen wish to know your purpose on Dragonstone.” Missandei of Naath said with a voice that seemed sweet as honey. Literally, Alethia had never heard such a nice voice.

 

“We are here to speak to Daenerys Targaryen.” Jon said.

 

“And perhaps to make a few friends on the way. It is nice to finally meet you, Missandei, if I may say so.” Alethia added.

 

The little scribe blushed at being mentioned, and being called famous.

 

“Who comes with you?” Missandei asked.

 

“Jon Snow, Ser Davos, Lady Shireen Baratheon and Gella, her protector, as well as Tormund Giantsbane of the Free Folk.”

 

“You must be tired from your travels-“ Missandei began.

 

“We wish to speak to the queen now.” Alethia interrupted, and Missandei nodded. “Then you must hand over your weapons.”

 

Alethia sighed and gave the Dothraki her sword and knives, only keeping the Dragonglass dagger to herself, well concealed. If Missandei was surprised at Gella and Shireen wearing weapons, she didn’t show it.

 

Their troupe began walking again, nearing the gate of the ancient fortress. Alethia could feel anticipation build up, as well as a little fear.

 

What would Daenerys really be like? Would Morgan betray her? And most importantly, would she be allowed to pet a dragon?

Notes:

I’ve finished fleshing out the plot… I apologize in advance.

The tag limit is fucking annoying holy hell

Chapter 51: Part V: Of Bastards and Kings

Part V: Of Bastards and Kings

Chapters: 52-62

Summary: With Winterfell reclaimed and Jon as a sudden King, there's not much left to do for Alethia except prepare for the Dead. That was, until the letter from her ex that she thought she'd never see again arrived.

 

Cast

Cynthia Addai-Robinson as older Morgan

Age: 18

“Damn girl, you challenge Dragonriders for funsies now? Gotta say, if that was for shits and giggles, you’ve become a real comedian.”

 

Emilia Clarke as Daenerys Targaryen

Age: 15

"Do you know what kept me standing, through all those years in exile? Faith."

 

Elle Fanning as Wylla Manderly

Age: 12

“I want to fight."

 

 

 

Chapter 52: GoT, but it’s just the titles

Summary:

Daenerys Targaryen is an (arrogant) baddie, Morgan still doesn’t like hugs, Olenna Tyrell is a fucking savage. Tormund is smart if you ask me, he just doesn't use big words (he was trusted to lead a troupe of the Free Folk across the Wall for a reason)

Though Daenerys was rather short, she seemed powerful on the throne that ought to swallow her up. Alethia looked through the throne room. Morgan hadn’t shown up yet, but Tyrion stood close by, raising an eyebrow at her appearance. Or was that because of Shireen?

 

Missandei had just finished saying all of Daenerys titles, when the Targaryen leaned forward.

 

“And who are you?” she asked. Davos was about to speak, but Alethia interrupted him. Jon deserved a proper introduction.

 

“This is Jon Snow, the White Wolf, 998^th commander of the Night’s Watch, the man that came back from the dead and avenged the Red Wedding and the King in the North.”

 

Daenerys leaned back, but Alethia couldn’t tell whether she was impressed or thought Alethia was crazy. Daenerys looked their group over once more, and Alethia felt a breath of relief escape her as Daenerys seemingly didn’t realize who Shireen was.

 

“I take it you have come to swear fealty to me then, my Lord?” Daenerys asked.

 

“Your Grace.” Alethia corrected “Jon Snow is still a King as long as he doesn’t bend the knee to any queen.

 

“We are not here to swear fealty to you, your Grace. We have come here to ask for aid in a war that is far greater than any quarrel about land. And even if that war didn’t exist, we wouldn’t swear fealty to any Southerner.” Jon explained.

 

Alethia saw Daenerys’ eyebrows draw together. Abruptly, she stood up from her throne.

 

“I was born at Dragonstone. Not that I can remember it. We fled before Robert’s assassins could find us. Robert was your father’s best friend, no? I wonder if your father knew his best friend sent assassins to murder a baby girl in her crib. Not that it matters now, of course.

I spent my life in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill me, I don’t remember all their names. I have been sold, like a broodmare. I’ve been chained, and betrayed, raped, and defiled. Do you know what kept me standing, through all those years in exile?

Faith.

Not in any god, not in myths and legends. In myself. In Daenerys Targaryen. The world hadn’t seen a dragon in centuries, until my children were born. The Dothraki hadn’t crossed the sea, any sea. They did for me.

I was born to rule the seven Kingdoms, and I will.”

 

Daenerys stood only a few meters away from them now. Alethia could feel shivers going down her spine at the impressive speech, but then she realized something.

 

“All of those things, except for the Dothraki and the dragons have happened to Cersei Lannister as well. What makes you any different?” she challenged.

 

“In fact, most of those things happen to women across Westeros and this world, no matter if they’re a queen or a beggar. They’ve happened to Sansa Stark, to Margaery Tyrell, some happened to Catelyn Stark. Hell, I’ve been betrayed, exiled, even though it was only to the Night’s Watch, chained and almost raped. Having those atrocious things happen to you and not giving up doesn’t make you fit to be a ruler, your Grace.” Alethia added.

 

She could feel Daenerys’ violet eyes bore into hers. Before the queen could command to have her burned or thrown into a dungeon, a voice from somewhere behind her spoke up.

 

“Damn girl, you challenge Dragonriders for funsies now? Gotta say, if that was for shits and giggles, you’ve become a real comedian.”

 

Alethia stared past the Targaryen and saw the one person she’d expected to never see again.

 

“Morgan? What happened to you, you look like a living thirstrap.” She said, pushing past Daenerys, who probably scoffed, offended.

 

“CrossFit.” Morgan replied. Alethia stood before her, knowing that she wouldn’t appreciate a hug.

 

“Uhm, cool.” Alethia replied, continuing to awkwardly stand. “So, your fire powers… can you like, shoot fire out of your hands?”

 

“I can shoot fire out of my ass.” Morgan replied and Alethia snorted. Behind Morgan, a tall dornish woman came towards them. Alethia immediately recognized her as Obara.

 

“So, this is your former girlfriend?” Obara asked. She was wearing leather armor, her spear in hand. Alethia awkwardly shuffled around her dress.

 

“Where are her weapons? Is she some boring lady?” Obara asked.

 

“She can talk, and she handed her weapon over to the Dothraki.” Alethia stated. Behind her, she could hear Daenerys and Jon speaking and turned back to her original conversation with a shrug.

 

“I know you probably hate me right now, but I’ve got a letter for you. From your grand-uncle, I think. His name was Aemon.”

 

Daenerys turned around, away from Jon who seemed to sigh with relief. She held out her hand and Alethia handed over the ring first. Dany’s eyes widened in recognition.

 

“Where’d you get this from?”

 

“I may be fucking rude, but I’m not a liar.” Alethia replied, giving her the letter too. Without a word, she left the hall, three Unsullied trailing behind her.

 

“Damn, she’s intense.” Alethia sighed. “Hey Tyrion, now that you’ve gotten over the initial shock of me being alive, how about some food and meeting the people ‘round here. I’m feeling social.”

 

“I never doubted that you would survive.” Tyrion replied. Varys, who had suddenly appeared from somewhere out of the wall, raised his eyebrows, and dramatically left the hall again waving a hand.

 

Alethia took that as an invitation to follow him.

 

…

 

After she’d stuffed herself on the food in the great hall, Alethia, Jon and Shireen followed a servant who’d come to summon them to some meeting.

 

The servant opened the door and when Alethia stepped inside, she recognized Ellaria Sand. She, Obara, Morgan, Varys, Tyrion, Daenerys and Olenna were standing around a table – the table. Alethia moved towards where the North of Westeros was, tracing the Wall with her hand, before remembering that Melisandre and Stannis had done the deed on this table.

 

Gross.

 

While Daenerys still looked extremely angry at her presence, she probably knew that Alethia was immortal, so she only gave her a thin-lipped smile.

 

Olenna got up and looked up at Alethia, raising an eyebrow.

 

“I am sorry for your loss, my lady. What Cersei did was unforgivable.” Alethia said carefully. To her surprise, Olenna nodded. She moved on to Shireen.

 

“Everyone South of the Neck thought you were dead, princess.”

 

“As of now, I am only a lady.” Shireen replied. Behind her, Gella shifted. Tormund was too busy staring at the Map Table to do anything.

 

“Bah, there are so many monarchs these days, it’s hard to keep track. What’s a princess in comparison?”

 

“Why are you here?” asked Tyrion.

 

“Because of the White Walkers. We need more forces to win a victory against them, and dragons. Only very few things can kill them: fire, obsidian and Valyrian steel. If we do not have your support, we ask that we at least might mine the dragonglass that is on Dragonstone. You have no use for it.” Alethia said.

 

Tyrion snorted. “And we are supposed to believe this?”

 

“What political advantage would we have to come down here otherwise?” Alethia asked. “We are safe above the Neck otherwise. The Riverlands could send us food and you would be busy with your conquest for now.”

 

“She’s telling the truth.” Morgan said. “The White Walkers are a real threat.”

 

“I’ve got two people who know each other very well and a rival king affirming this. As well as the daughter of a dead king and a clansman from beyond the Wall.” Daenerys said, “I have no reason to believe you.”

 

“Then don’t. Morgan will be a great help already. I don’t understand why you don’t believe your own family, when you accept that the letter is real, but perhaps that’s something I’m too peasant to understand. You want to rule, go ahead. Right now, you’re the usurper, not many here love you. Cersei isn’t beloved either, but accepted, and she’s not been a good ruler. If you want to sit the Iron Throne, you need to have support, you understand that, right?” Alethia snapped.

 

“You seem very sure of Morgan’s support.” Ellaria interjected. Obara angrily nodded.

 

“Well, she owes me. I saved her ass in chemistry AND math.” Alethia replied, and Morgan nodded. “I had hoped I could count on the support of the Dornish as well, in exchange for some help with the Lannisters. After we defeat the dead, of course.”

 

Ellaria nodded. Alethia could see that Daenerys was almost sputtering. Olenna looked slightly disappointed.

 

“You have the support of the Dornish, and you have taken it without my permission.”

 

“Well, you are quite busy with other targets and if the Dead aren’t real, as you say, then they’ll be back from their roundtrip in the North after a month.” Alethia replied.

 

“I should have you executed.” Daenerys said, her voice icy.

 

“Yeah, but you can’t, which is why I’m running my mouth.”

 

To Alethia’s surprise, Tormund spoke up next. “Until I came to Dragonstone, dragons were only fairytales from idiot southerners. Now, I’m here and I see that they are just as special as the children of the forest. I’m kissed by the fire, lucky. Well, you Valyrian kings and queens must be kissed by ice then. Probably means that you’re magic. That’s not the point here though.” Tormund paused.

 

Alethia looked at him. She’d never heard him speak so eloquently, or so much at a time. She knew he wasn’t stupid, but this Southern talk… He spent too much time teaching Shireen and Wylla.

 

“The point is, I’ve been fighting walking corpses for years now. I’ve lost friends and family to the fuckers and I’m fuckin’ tired of it. They’ll get through to the South soon and if you don’t help ‘em up there, you’ll have nothing left to rule down there.”

 

“I didn’t know Wildlings were such wise men now.” Olenna replied.

 

“Never been stupid, just spent a lot of time talking to her.” Tormund shrugged, gesturing to Shireen.

 

“I will consider what you have said.” Daenerys said. “You have my permission to mine the Obsidian. I will speak to the Maester here and see if your stories have any ground to them. If what you say is true, I might help you. I am not here to be queen of the ashes. And I am not Cersei.

 

Chapter 53: God Save Us With the Queen

Summary:

Some cool stuff happens on Dragonstone; minor characters are alive, and Dany hasn’t forgotten her past

Notes:

TW: needles

As Alethia followed Morgan down another hallway, she felt giddy and light-headed. This decision was stupid, impulsively made and had no reason behind it. That was exactly why Al already loved it. Finally, something she didn’t have to care about.

 

 

Morgan looked back at her, smirking. “You can’t back out now.” She said.

 

“Not planning on it.” Alethia fired back. She glanced down at the ink serpent wound around Morgan’s right arm. It was half a year old and had healed well. Half a year of an ironborn-martell alliance and half a year since Morgan had met the old tattoo artist from the Iron Islands that had left Euron’s fleet. And now Alethia was getting a tattoo too.

 

 

Well, two to be exact.

 

 

The tattoo guy was working on a tattoo for himself when they entered and did not look surprised at all when he saw Morgan.

 

“Wasn’t the serpent enough for you?” he asked, mildly annoyed. Al shot Morgan a look

 

 

“I’m not here for me. I’m here for my friend. She’s getting two.”

 

 

The man looked up at Alethia. “Those your first tattoos?” he asked.

 

 

She nodded, and the man snorted. “I doubt you’ll last through the first, pretty lady.”

 

 

“Well, try getting run through with an ice spear.”

 

 

The man shrugged and picked up a few clean utensils. “What do you want?”

 

 

Alethia handed him two sketches. The first one wasn’t anything special. A pattern reminiscent of the tattoo the character Lagertha had had in the series Vikings. Al wanted it to remind her of her Germanic and Norse heritage – but also, to remind her that she was a bad bitch, definitely capable of being a shieldmaiden or spearwife.

 

 

The second one was a bit boring now that she thought about it. Still, the man looked up at her as he recognized the snarling direwolf.

 

“Ah, so you’re the bastard King’s mistress.”

 

 

“Careful now, the ironborn aren’t exactly best friends with the North right now. And you are still speaking about a King.”

 

 

The man nodded and held up both sketches. “Which is going where?”

 

 

“The direwolf on my arm.” Alethia pointed to where Sophie Turner had placed her own (wow yes very original). “The pattern goes on my thigh.”

 

 

To her relief, the man didn’t smirk or make any creepy moves. “I’ll start on the small one.”

 

 

Morgan sat on the table, crossing her legs, and pointedly ignoring the man’s glares.

 

 

“So, what have the last few years been like for you?” she asked Alethia. Alethia ignored the man hammering ink into her skin with that weird needle and looked up at Morgan.

 

 

“Fucking terrible.”

 

 

“Ah. Very descriptive.”

 

 

“You go first then, ass.”

 

 

“Well, I learned to fight with a really cool spear and got a hot girlfriend. I spent the last few years tanning on the beach and eating good food. Looks like you didn’t. The whole politics stuff started about two years ago, but I’m happy to help out.”

 

 

“That’s it? What about your fire powers?”

 

 

“Well, I did almost set Obara on fire once. That was kind of funny though. It surfaced the first time when I burned this guy called Bronn a little. Nothing was lost that day. His eyebrows were ugly anyways.”

 

 

“Bronn? Where the hell- “

 

 

“He held a sword at the throat of Myrcella, she was nice- “

 

 

“Ellaria poisoned her.” Alethia interrupted.

 

“I know, and I don’t think it was the right thing to do. Hurting an innocent girl. But it was necessary – they killed Oberyn.”

 

 

“Really? He chose to fight. He died. You didn’t have to answer his gruesome death with another death. Violence for violence is the rule of beasts.” Alethia shot back.

 

 

“You’re not quoting that Obama hewwo- “

 

 

“I am. Should’ve saved it for Dany.”

 

 

“It wasn’t my choice. I’ll keep it quiet though.” Morgan promised.

 

 

Alethia almost flinched as she heard a roar from outside the window. She whipped her head around and found herself face to face with Drogon.

 

 

“Coooool.” She sighed.

 

 

“You never really get used to them. They hit different, I guess. They are fire and destruction and sometimes I wonder if they were there at the beginning. It only makes sense if this planet was made like ours.”

 

 

“Maybe they’re the end. It’s either fire and death or ice and death. Such seems to be the fate of the universe.” Alethia paused.

 

 

“Damn, we got deep.” She finished. Morgan chuckled.

 

 

“Now you have to tell me what shit you went through.”

 

…

 

 

The sun was already setting as the ironborn finished with her thigh. Alethia was sure her dress had to be stiff from being hiked up for hours. Morgan had stopped talking a few minutes before, thinking about what Alethia had told her.

 

 

“I’m sorry, Thia, ‘bout your friends.” Morgan consoled. The ironman wrapped up her thigh in some cloth as Morgan handed Alethia a bottle.

 

 

Suspicious, Alethia smelled as the strong smell of liquor hit her nose.

 

“I haven’t eaten anything since the morning.” Alethia said.

 

 

“So?” Morgan replied and Al took a swig. The taste burned in her throat, but it made her feel warm. Morgan took the bottle back, taking a swig herself, before handing it to the man who was packing up his tools.

 

 

He took a swig, before leaving the room.

 

 

“Dornish liquor gets your blood warm.” Morgan said, linking her arm with Alethia’s.

 

 

“Then you should give Tormund a cup. He’ll love it.”

 

 

Together, they found themselves in a Hall, where servants were bringing food and clearing out drinks. Tormund sat at a table, surrounded by Dothraki, and wildly gesturing, while Tyrion was downing wine next to a thin-lipped Varys.

 

 

Ellaria and her Sand Snakes sat at a table with Olenna, Gella and Shireen, who was talking to a shy Missandei. Al spotted Jon sitting next to Davos.

 

 

To her surprise, the queen sat on a cushion at the end of the hall. She’d changed from the stiff, gray cloak to clothes that had a distinct… Dothraki influence. Alethia felt glad that Daenerys hadn’t abandoned that part of her.

 

 

Two women were next to her. One was speaking quickly in the Dothraki tongue, while the other braided her hair up. A man stood next to them, and Alethia saw them both steal glances at him.

 

 

He had to be Rakharo, right?

 

 

And what surprised her most was a white-haired man to Daenerys’ right, leaning on a cane, the other hand on his sword.

 

 

Alethia walked towards Daenerys, trying to remember Westerosi manners.

 

 

“Your Grace, I hope the letter was helpful to you.” She said. Aemon hadn’t been a sweettalker, but he gave good advice.

 

 

“It has given me things to think about. You knew him?”

 

 

“Yes.”

 

 

“What was he like?”

 

 

“He was to me what I think Ser Barristan is to you. He defended you valiantly from the Sons of the Harpy?”

 

 

Liar. You haven’t heard any news from across the sea during your time at the Wall.

 

 

“Yes, he took a spear in the knee, but did not hesitate to search for me.”

 

 

“Then I am glad you still have your advisor, and your Dothraki friends, your Grace.”

 

 

Daenerys nodded and Alethia excused herself and wandered to Jon. He looked up as he heard her approach and Alethia almost jumped up as she saw his face light up like a Christmas tree.

 

 

“What are you guys discussing?”

 

 

“We need to get Cersei on our side. We can’t have her attack the North while we’re fighting the Dead.” Jon explained.

 

 

“We need a Wight.” Davos explained.

 

 

“That’s a stupid idea. Why isn’t Tyrion here helping you? Didn’t he spend years in Kings Landing, and even longer with his sister?” Alethia didn’t wait for their answer but turned around.

 

 

“Hey, Tyrion, come over here. You too, Lord Spider Varys sir.” She shouted, and the two exchanged a glance, but seemed content with coming over to them.

 

 

While the two leisurely strolled towards them, Alethia turned back to Jon and Davos.

 

 

“Cersei is ruthless. Even if she promises to help, she’ll betray that promise. She threatened to kill me because her brother escorted me to my seat.”

 

 

“I don’t recall.” Tyrion broke in suddenly.

 

 

“Probably because you were busy getting your dick sucked. Though I guess I should thank you, I’m still alive and mildly well thanks to you.”

 

 

“Nothing to be thankful for, it was very enjoyable.” Tyrion said, sipping on his wine.

 

“Why exactly are we here, Miss Alethia?” Varys tiredly interjected.

 

“Easy, Cersei won’t believe in impending doom and since you two are stuck with the good guys, we need to make walking corpses believable to her.”

 

 

“You need to make them believable to us first.” Tyrion replied.

 

 

Alethia sighed, and lifted the hem of her shirt a little, glad for her change of clothes. She pointed to the ugly, fleshy scar on her lower abdomen.

 

 

“This is where an oversized ice-spear ran through me, being held by a magical corpse. Jon was very devastated.”

 

 

Alethia could feel Jon’s jealous glare on her neck and looked at Varys instead of Tyrion.

 

“Though this… mark is very impressive it doesn’t prove anything.” Varys tittered, his pinky hovering over her scar.

 

 

“Hmm, yeah but I survived for a reason.”

 

“The reason being?” Tyrion asked.

 

 

“Same reason Morgan can firebend and Dany has live dragons. Something is coming and some good higher power wants to help us save the shit from piling up. Besides, you owe me, Tyrion. I’ve made strange predictions before, and they’re the reason you’re alive now.”

 

 

“Bronn works for Jaime now.” Tyrion replied, trying to hide his realization.

 

“Yeah, but that was after you were condemned a criminal and indirectly killed your niece. No offense though, it’s really not your fault.”

 

 

“How about we get back to our plan?” Davos suggested.

 

 

“Or how about I, the all-knowing future person here make the plan, so it’s actually good?” Alethia asked.

 

 

“Go ahead.” Jon offered.

 

 

“Dany helps us get a wight by flying in with a dragon to pick up a lone zombie. Jon and I help hold the Wall with Tormund. We all leave again and go to King’s Landing really quickly, where Davos has picked up Gendry after having picked up a guy named Hot Pie from the Inn at the Crossroads. We present the zombie to Cersei and her court, Euron gets the fuck out of there, weakening her military strength and we all get back up North, where Gendry starts smithing weapons from Dragonglass.”

 

 

“Why Gendry?” Davos asked.

 

 

“He worked for the best decorative armorer in King’s Landing, who worked with all kinds of materials. Plus, he’s friends with Arya.”

 

 

“And what about this Hot Pie?” Tyrion asked.

 

 

“I just really want to try his food.”

 

“Well, then we only need the approval of our queen.” Varys sighed.

 

“I could help with that.” Missandei suddenly interjected. “I believe you.”

 

“Fuck, you’re quiet.” Alethia jumped. “But thanks.” Missandei nodded, and slowly, everyone in their group dispersed.

 

Morgan was the last to leave for another table, Then, it was only Jon and Alethia.

 

“Let’s go see the progress in the mines.” Alethia suggested and slipped her hand into Jon’s.

 

…

 

The paintings the children of the forest had made were gorgeous. Alethia felt reminded of the drawings of cavemen, but again, these were infused with magic. She felt ridiculous, making such comparisons, but in Westeros, magic was real. It was something that could be felt.

 

Something that chilled you to the bone but at the same time warmed your soul. She finished in thought.

 

“Who would’ve thought that we’d end up here.” Alethia whispered.

 

“Not me.” Jon replied.

 

“The bastard and the crazy girl. The king and Lady Black. Now, that’s what I call character development.” She said.

 

“But in the end, we’re still the same people.”

 

“We have to get Dany to help us, Jon. I don’t want this to end, us to end.” Alethia practically begged.

 

“I don’t like the way she looks at me.” He admitted.

 

Alethia knew what he meant. Not that they were looks of deep longing or love, no, it was just her checking him out. Or as they’d say in overly religious communities, lusting and giving in to carnal desires. Alethia almost had to laugh.

 

“Just don’t get yourself shot with an arrow.” Alethia replied.

 

Jon laughed. “I did make a promise, didn’t I?”

Notes:

Ha! Betcha didn't think Al would get tattoos! THAT'S how you write subversive content Dumb an Dumber!

I'm writing this super cute scene between Jon and Al rn, kinda losing it

Chapter 54: I’m going to have to eat every fucking chicken in this place

Summary:

Taking a ship to white harbor, having dragonglass shipped down to Winterfell with Shireen and Wives, meeting the brotherhood and a lil surprise :)

Notes:

TW: super fucking sappy.

I am once again writing this in school, during class

Somehow, Alethia wasn’t sure how, Daenerys had agreed to come to the Wall with her and help the North against the Undead. But not before she had driven the Lannisters out of the Reach.

 

 

Alethia’s dress trailed behind her as she hurried to the dungeons of Highgarden, ready to see the prisoners she and Jon had asked Daenerys to take. She waited patiently as an Unsullied escorted her inside, not without patting her down.

 

 

The first cell she walked past contained Bronn. Alethia stopped for a moment, and snorted at his half-grown eyebrows, before continuing down. She knew that the deeper she went, the more important the prisoners would become.

 

 

Dickon was sitting in the next cell, visibly shaken. How old was he? 16? 17? It wasn’t fair. Alethia opened her bag and handed him some of the bread and dried meat they had given out in Daenerys camp. Despite probably being hungry, Dickon sneered.

 

 

“I’m not taking any food from you. You’re with the usurper queen.”

 

 

Al almost wanted to laugh at the irony of that. “I’m not with the queen. But I know your big brother, Sam. He’d want you to eat, so I’m giving you food.”

 

 

“You know my brother?” Dickon asked. Alethia nodded, handing him the food through the bars. He took it, and Alethia left without a word. As she neared the next cell, she let all her suppressed anger boil up.

 

 

In the next cell, Randyll Tarly sat proudly, an empty sheath still around his belt. Alethia nodded to the guard that had been trailing her, and he unlocked the door.

 

 

Abruptly, Randyll Tarly stood up, causing his chains to rattle.

 

 

“I didn’t know you fought with one-handed swords, Lord Tarly. Isn’t your houses sword a greatsword?” Alethia asked.

 

 

“My Heartsbane was stolen from me by- “

 

 

“I know. I was mocking you if you couldn’t tell. Sam must have gotten all of his intelligence from his mother.”

 

 

Randyll began turning red. “What do you know of combat, woman?” he demanded.

 

 

“Quite a bit. And I’m considerably better at planning, seeing how I’m not the one who’s chained up.”

 

 

As the man lunged forward, Alethia simply took a step back, letting his chains do the job for her.

 

“I feel sorry for both your sons. Sam, for having to have endured your torture for so many years. And Dickon, for having him think you care for him beyond his status as heir.”

 

 

“How dare you- “he began, but Alethia had had enough. She curled her hand into a fist and hit the man as hard as she could. Then, she kneed him in the groin.

 

 

Angrily, Alethia took hold of him by the collar. “How DARE you treat your own son like that? Sam is kind, he’s good and compassionate. He didn’t deserve the abuse and torture he suffered at his own fathers’ hands; how could you do that to him? And to send him to the Watch when you knew he could’ve become a Maester? Not that it matters, He knows more than most Maesters and he’s killed a bloody wight! And just so you know, he’s more worthy of Heartsbane than you could EVER be.”

 

She punched him again, before leaving the cell.

 

 

Jaime Lannister was happily chuckling as Alethia approached. He raised an eyebrow as he recognized the woman before her.

 

 

“Well, if it isn’t the girl that went to the Wall. Didn’t thought I’d see you again.”

 

 

“Cut the bullshit.” Alethia demanded.

 

 

Jaime pretended to be surprised. “Pardon me?”

 

 

“You were the idiot that charged into a dragon, not me. Drop the arrogant act, Mister heroic.”

 

 

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean. Though I have heard rumors that you are crazy.”

 

 

Alethia let the guard open the door and sat across from Jaime. “I know what you did to save the people of King’s Landing. You must be disgusted at your sister for blowing up Baelor’s sept with Wildfire. Just like Aegon would’ve liked to do.”

 

 

Finally, Jaime paled a little. “How?”

 

 

“Well, that doesn’t matter now. The dead are marching on Westeros and I’m sure you’d like to be reunited with Brienne.” Alethia paused to wiggle her eyebrows. “And of course, your brother, Pod the rod, Bronn…” Alethia trailed off.

 

 

“What do you want?”

 

 

“Oh simple. For you to risk your life and come to the North, hope Daenerys doesn’t change her mind and execute you, betray your lover, I mean Cersei, and help Dany get Casterly Rock. Oh, and knight Brienne. ‘Cuz, she deserves it.”

 

 

Jaime stared a little.

 

 

“Well, that’s it, I’ll let you tell your little brother your choice and we’ll see each other on the way to Winterfell. I’m sure.”

 

 

…

 

 

About a week later, the boat that had taken Alethia and Jon south, returned to White Harbor, reinforced by a small fleet of boats. Thanks to numerous letters Al and Shireen had sent around, she knew exactly where she’d find the brotherhood, and that she wouldn’t have to go to Winterfell.

 

 

Though Sansa had sounded reluctant in her letters, Alethia had convinced her that, at least, they didn’t have to bend the knee. She was ready to cry as Shireen was ready to depart once again, leading Daenerys people to Winterfell, together with Missandei, Tyrion, a Dothraki representative and the commander of the Unsullied.

 

 

“I’ll miss you, Shireen.” Alethia said, “but you’re a better leader than anyone else we could trust.”

 

 

“I’ll miss you too. But at least you’ve got Jon.” She smirked.

 

 

“Says the one who has yet to make a move on Rickon.” Alethia teased back. Shireen blushed, looking at her feet.

 

 

“I’ll make sure the little lady doesn’t wait too long.” Gella assured, hugging Al tightly.

 

 

“Take care Gella.” Alethia said. “And you, Shireen.” She added, hugging her too. “Don’t get yourselves killed before I come back.”

 

 

“You don’t… get yourself injured too painfully.” Shireen replied.

 

 

“I’ll see you in Winterfell, in one piece.”

 

 

Alethia watched as a large chunk of the people that had come North with the Dragon queen began trekking South. Only a few stayed behind.

 

 

Lord Manderly courteously welcomed Daenerys, despite shivering every time a dragon roared overhead. He frowned at Jorah Mormont and shook Jon’s hand proudly, before coming face-to-face with Alethia.

 

 

“I have heard reports of my granddaughter learning how to fight.” He said.

 

 

“Well, she’s become much better than her father at hitting her mark.” Alethia replied.

 

 

Lord Wylis attempted to suppress his smile, failing miserably. “I suppose it’s for the best.” He commented, “I take it you want to waste no time?” he asked, and Alethia nodded. While Daenerys and her few retainers were led away, she had the pleasure of talking to the prisoners. Together with Jon, Tormund, Jaime, and Bronn, who were coming along more or less willing.

 

 

A guard stopped at the door pointing Alethia to the right cell door. She followed his pointer and ignored the low ceiling. This dungeon was much less pleasant than the one at Highgarden, featuring no windows, smelly puddles of questionable liquids and an extreme cold that swept through the cracks.

 

 

Most cells were empty, but the last few were occupied with petty criminals. The cell that interested Alethia though was the one at the very end.

 

 

When her torch shone into the cell, most of the heads turned, except for that of Sandor Clegane, who growled angrily and pulled his cloak over his face in a dramatic motion.

 

 

“Lady Black, you’re a fine sight to see.” Thoros complimented. Being used to the antics of all-knowing red fire fanatics, Al only rolled her eyes.

 

 

Before she could respond however, Sandor sat up and eyed her with disappointment. “Doesn’t look like fuckin’ chicken to me.” He replied.

 

 

“Hallelujah.” Alethia sighed.

 

 

Jon looked at her questioningly, but Alethia waved him off. “So, we’re going on a suicide mission, and y’all are coming.”

 

 

“Does that normally work for you?” Jaime butted in.

 

 

“Yes, shut the fuck up while I attempt to save the world.” Alethia bit back, still mad at him for sending her to the Night’s Watch aka camp creep.

 

 

“Save the world?” Beric questioned.

 

 

“Does ‘the mountain shaped like an arrowhead’ sound familiar?” Alethia asked. The Brotherhood stared.

 

 

“See, I know shit too! Now, your plan sucks, so let me do the plan and then it’ll be good.”

 

 

“What do you know about our plan?” Beric asked.

 

 

“That it got you into prison. Anyways, we hold the Wall while Dragon queen flies past the Wall to pick up an isolated wight with Jon. Boom, plan that doesn’t have us all trek through the cold to certain death.”

 

 

“How the fuck are you still alive?” Clegane asked.

 

 

“Could ask you the same thing.”

 

 

“She’s immortal.” Thoros explained.

 

 

“To my defense, I only found that out half a year ago. The rest was me being very careful. So, are you guys in, or do you want to rot in here?”

 

 

Alethia was met with skeptical looks and silence. “Lord Manderly’s serving chicken for dinner.” She offered.

 

 

“Fuck it, I’m in.” Sandor agreed. Alethia was almost sad that he wasn’t aware of how close he’d missed a meme. Beric nodded in assent, and after Thoros declared that he would help, the rest of the Brotherhood agreed as well.

 

 

…

 

 

Alethia was trying not to howl with laughter as she watched Tormund splash ale all over a broody Sandor Clegane who was silently being angry next to him.  As she met the Hound’s eyes, she gave him an apologetic shrug.

 

 

She continued looking through the great hall. Thoros was trying to charm a poor serving girl (how priestly) while Beric was talking to Daenerys and Jorah Mormont. Jaime and Bronn were sitting with Tyrion. Jon, however, was currently occupied by no highborn, which meant that…

 

 

Jon’s POV:

 

 

As he looked through the hall, he shifted uncomfortably. There had been too many feasts in the last few days for his taste. Winter was here! But then again, people were getting scared from all the stories they’d been hearing. He could feel that he was beginning to worry again and looked for Alethia.

 

 

Luckily, he heard her coming up behind her. He grabbed his ale again, pretending to be drinking when Alethia put her arms around him.

 

 

“I see you are looking like a lost puppy, your Grace. Do you mind me occupying your attention for a while?”

 

 

Jon snorted, pretending to be annoyed at her antics, which he knew she put on to comfort him.

 

 

“D’ya think we could just sneak away like children?”

 

 

“Don’t be a bore. We’ve both been so busy since Dragonstone that we’ve barely managed to sleep at the same time much less do anything else.” Alethia said. Jon turned his head a little, only to catch her waggling her eyebrows.

 

 

“I don’t think I should leave the feast early. Doesn’t the king stay till the end?”

 

 

“I wouldn’t know, but I think this will be going on until tomorrow.” Alethia replied. Her expression grew more serious. “Jon, we’re going back to Castle Black, which I don’t mind, but it’ll be dangerous up there. Much more than before, and you might die. I want to spend some time with you in case that happens.”

 

 

Jon’s eyebrows knit together. Alethia always tried to be there for him. She’d always given and given, not asking for much in return.

 

 

“I think my Queen deserves a treat.” Jon smirked. He watched as several emotions quickly flashed over Alethia’s face, trying to figure out the implication of what he’d said. She was overthinking it though, and before she had a chance to say anything, Jon picked her up and carried her out of the hall.

 

 

When the door of his chambers closed behind him, Al hastily began taking off her sword, grinning all the while. Jon did the same, clumsily hopping around, working on his doublet.

 

 

“Jon?” Alethia asked.

 

 

“Hmm?”

 

 

“I can’t reach the laces of this stupid dress.”

 

 

Jon walked over, helping her. “That won’t work every time.” He said, kissing along her neck.

 

 

“On the contrary, I think it’s been quite successful so far.” Alethia snarked. Jon spun her around.

 

 

“Well, you don’t need much to convince me.” He replied. Alethia looked down, blushing. Then, she laughed. Jon knew it was stupid, but he felt like he was stuck in a song where a maiden’s smile enchanted the knight.

 

 

“What is it?” Al asked, and Jon realized he was still staring at her.

 

 

“You’re just so beautiful.” He mumbled. Alethia turned beet-red. Then, Jon had a stupid, brilliant idea.

 

 

“Marry me.” He asked.

 

 

“WHAT?” Alethia shrieked, more surprised than disgusted.

 

 

“Marry me, Al. I don’t want to be with anyone else. I want you to be my wife and rule the North with me. Make Winterfell strong again. I don’t want to do that on my own. And I love you, so much.”

 

 

“I- “Alethia began, dumbfounded. “Yeah. Yes, I’ll marry you Jon.”

 

 

A chocked laugh of relief escaped Jon. “Sorry I don’t have a ring like they do where you’re from.” He whispered.

 

 

Alethia caught his face in her hands and kissed him. When they broke apart, she smiled. “That doesn’t matter to me.”

 

 

There was a small silence again. “So… are we still, you know… “she replied. Jon smirked and began tugging at her clothes again.

 

 

“’Course we are.”

 

 

Alethia fell back on the bed and Jon followed, finally removing the last layer. “Maybe we should move to Dorne, so we have to wear less clothes.” Alethia joked. Jon hmphed in response.

 

 

Then, his eyes fell on the blue pattern on Alethia’s thigh. He looked up at her face and saw her smirk.

 

 

“That wasn’t there last time I checked.” Jon said.

 

 

“Surprise!” Alethia sarcastically exclaimed, doing what she called ‘jazzy hands’.

 

 

“I like it.” Jon replied.

 

 

“Well, show it some love.” Alethia offered. Jon shook his head, but still, he wasn’t one to refuse a good offer.

 

 

…

 

 

Alethia was in his arms afterwards, the soft furs that had been provided almost swallowing her up.

 

 

“You were serious with your proposal, right?” she asked, suddenly unsure. “That wasn’t just a heat of the moment thing?”

 

 

Jon shook his head. “No, I want to marry you. I just thought I’d do it more professionally, after the Night King’s dead, maybe in the Godswood, under the Weirwood tree…” he trailed off. “I guess I just got distracted by you.”

 

 

“Fuck Jon, you make me sappy.” Alethia replied. “I didn’t know it was possible to love someone so much.”

 

 

Despite having been with Alethia for the better part of a year now, his stomach still flipped. Silently, Jon ran a hand through Alethia’s hair.

 

When her breathing evened out, he whispered back to her. “Me neither.” He replied.

 

 

Jon still spotted the small smile curving into Alethia’s face.

Notes:

Expectations? Subverted. Readers? surprised. Hotel? Trivago.

Chapter 55: Stockholm Syndrome

Summary:

Arriving at the wall, Dany and Al get to know each other better, Alethia being a total mom friend

Notes:

TW: mentions of rape, ptsd

I wanted to bring in Dany’s past trauma here, cuz they seemingly kinda forgot about it in the show.

“I forgot how fucking cold this place is.” Alethia complained as she hurried over the deck of the ship with Tormund, ready to disembark at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.

 

 

“It’s not even that cold.” Jon commented through chattering teeth. Alethia laughed, her breath becoming mist in the freezing air.

 

 

Finally, the ropes were all tied and Alethia hurried over the thin plank and shook the Commander’s hand.

 

“It is good to see you back home, Lady Black.” He said.

 

 

“It is good to see you.” Alethia replied, “Last time I was here, I was unconscious for most of my stay.”

 

 

The commander barked a laugh, before welcoming Jon and eyeing Tormund with mistrust. Nonetheless, he shook his hand. “The wildlings have been doing a good job on the Wall.” He managed and Tormund smirked.

 

 

“Aye, I bet it’s even easier now that you don’t have t’ fight us.”

 

 

Before the commander could respond something, Alethia quickly stepped between them. “We would be grateful if we could continue our journey to Castle Black. The men there are in need of resources, as I have heard, and we must travel south on the Kingsroad.”

 

 

The commander nodded and showed everyone inside. Drogon circled overhead while Alethia caught up to Daenerys, who tried to hide her shivering.

 

 

Alethia handed her an old scarf of hers. She had wound three around her own face and neck, two would work just fine too.

 

“Your Grace, you should put on a scarf.” Alethia insisted, handing Daenerys the scratchy fabric. Daenerys raised a brow.

 

“I know it isn’t very fashionable, but it keeps you warm. I understand that you enjoy having ears?” Alethia joked. Daenerys snatched the scarf from her, wrapping it around her pale neck. When they had distanced themselves a bit more from the rest, the Targaryen looked to the ground.

 

 

“Thank you.” She uttered out. Alethia dared to reach out and squeezed Daenerys hand.

 

 

“No problem. I found the cold terrible when I first came here.” Alethia replied. Finally, they found the chambers they’d been sharing. Dennis Mallister had decidedly not put Alethia and Jon in the same chamber. Alethia could guess why.

 

 

No matter what, the Watch was still the Watch in some ways.

 

 

Daenerys looked around the bleak room, before putting down her things. Alethia hurried to the tiny fireplace and began to make a fire. In an old chest, Alethia found battered clothes and held some out to Daenerys, who was still sitting on the bed.

 

 

“Here, you can put these under your cloak. The winds beyond the Wall are even colder and I don’t think flying on dragonback helps very much.”

 

 

Daenerys nodded and put them on. “What was it like?”

 

 

“Living at the Wall?” Alethia asked.

 

 

Daenerys nodded again. Alethia sighed. “It wasn’t easy. The living conditions were terrible, and I was barely respected, but it was simple. Simpler than all the politics. I had good friends at Castle Black, friends that helped me and were kind to me.”

 

 

“I don’t have many friends.” Daenerys admitted.

 

 

Alethia sat down next to her on the bed. “That’s not true. And besides, the quantity doesn’t mean that the quality improves. You have Missandei and Irri and Jhiqui. They were your servants and you made them your friends. They are still with you, and I am sure that Doreah would be proud of you.”

 

 

Daenerys smiled a little. “I suppose that is true.”

 

 

…

 

 

When Alethia startled awake, the room was dark. She searched for Jon in the bed, before remembering that she was alone and sighed, leaning back into the meagre pillow. A draft blew past her and Alethia threw the furs back, trying to stoke the fire as quickly as possible. She heard a whimper and turned around, grabbing her dagger tightly.

 

But the room was empty, except for Daenerys. Alethia crept closer and noticed the young queen thrashing in her bed, her face contorted in an expression of pain that Alethia was all too familiar with. Carefully, she put the dagger away and placed a hand on Daenerys’ shoulder.

 

“Wake up, it’s only a dream.” Alethia said quietly, shaking Daenerys awake gently. Suddenly, the girl jumped awake and tried to get away from Alethia, bumping into the end of her bed.

 

 

“Hey, it’s me, remember. You’re safe here.” Alethia added, slowly walking towards Daenerys. Her eyes were wide open, flickering around the room and her breathing was panicked and shallow. Alethia’s heart broke for Daenerys, as she reminded her of herself and Sansa. Something inside Alethia made her move forward and wrap an arm around Daenerys.

 

 

“He- he was there again.” Daenerys whispered quietly, hands digging into the bedding. Then, she began to cry. The mighty queen was only a girl after all, with tears streaming down her delicate face, which held to much worry for someone so young.

 

 

“He was holding me down and- “Daenerys stopped talking. Alethia held her tightly as she sobbed. Carefully, she stroked her hand over Daenerys hair, not sure how to comfort the girl.

 

“He’s gone. He’s dead and he can’t hurt you anymore.” Alethia said. Daenerys held onto her and eventually, she stopped crying. “I get nightmares too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Alethia promised.

 

 

Eventually, Daenerys relaxed, leaning against the headboard while Alethia sat next to her, an arm around her shoulder.

 

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, and Daenerys nodded. She talked and talked at some point leaning into Alethia’s arms until she fell asleep.

 

 

Alethia sighed, staring down at her tiny frame and wild hair. Everyone always said that the gods flipped a coin on the Targaryens but as Alethia began falling asleep, she couldn’t help but think that Daenerys was just as vulnerable as any other girl in Westeros.

 

 

…

 

 

Golden rays of sunlight filtered into the dusty, cold room when Alethia was awoken by Daenerys stirring awake in her arms. Carefully, Alethia finally let her go and began dressing for the day and the trek to Castle Black, which still laid ahead of them.

 

 

“Thank you.” Daenerys quietly said as she combed her hair through.

 

 

“No problem. We women have to stick together.” Alethia replied. “And you might want to braid your hair to cover your neck.” She added.

 

 

“I would like us to be friends.” Daenerys suddenly said. “You’ve done a great deal for me, and I’d like to think I’m repaying the favor.

 

 

“Sure.” Alethia nodded. “Call me Al, your Grace.”

 

 

“Then you must call me Dany, my Lady.” Daenerys said, smiling.

 

 

…

 

 

Alethia felt her stomach flip as the old gates of Castle Black came into view. She looked over to Jon, who shifted in his saddle. He looked excited, but also uncomfortable. She could understand how he was feeling. The last time he was here, they’d tried to kill him.

 

 

When Alethia glanced back, she saw the members of the Brotherhood as well as Jaime and Bronn silently riding while Jorah Mormont talked quietly with Daenerys, who had put on proper wildling garb. Alethia wasn’t sure who had given it to her, but she was glad Dany looked more comfortable.

 

 

Edd stood in the courtyard, next to Daemon and a few others. He gave a slight smile when he saw Alethia and Jon.

 

 

“Edd!” Alethia called, jumping off her horse. She shook her old friend’s hand. “How has it been since we left?”

 

 

“Cold.” Edd replied curtly. Alethia snorted. “I can imagine.”

 

 

Jon had finally crossed the distance between his horse and Edd and hugged the new commander tightly. “I see Castle Black still stands.” He said. This time, it was Edd’s turn to laugh.

 

“Let’s see how long that works when we’ve got so many important people ‘ere.” He said, glancing behind them.

 

 

“Your Grace, Ser Jorah. Welcome to Castle Black.” Edd managed and waved some men over to show them to the dining hall. Alethia used the opportunity to slip away.

 

 

A comforting smell of herbs and the warmth of a fire greeted her as she stepped inside the infirmary. It was just as she remembered it, with the desk still in the same place, cots lined up cleanly and a slim door leading into an adjoining chamber.

 

 

The frame of a skinny man leaned over a shivering boy in the only occupied bed. When the boy fell asleep, he turned around with a sigh. Alethia leaned against the doorframe.

 

 

“Hey Satin.”

 

 

“Al. How’s it going with Jon?” he asked, a small smirk forming.

 

 

Alethia blushed and pretended to examine the medicine in the shelves. “Good.” She managed.

 

 

Satin crossed his arms. “Good?”

 

 

“Mhm.” Alethia pulled out a bottle and walked to the desk, carefully relabeling it. Satin was still staring holes into her back. She turned around and put the bottle back.

 

 

“He proposed a few days ago.” She blurted out. Satin dropped the wooden bowl he was holding.

 

“I did not expect that.” Was all he said. Alethia made a choked sound and jumped, glad that she was finally able to tell this someone. Satin hugged her tightly. “I’m happy for you.” He said.

 

 

Just in that moment, Jon walked in. Satin looked at Jon and back to Alethia. He grinned.

 

 

“Did I miss something?” Jon asked. Alethia shook her head. “No, nothing at all.” 

 

“How are you, Satin?” Jon asked the newly made healer.

 

 

“Good.” Satin replied. Jon kissed Alethia on the cheek and took her hand. “I changed my mind; you two lovesick warrior brutes make me sick.” He added with a smile. Alethia smiled too and linked her arm with Satin’s.

 

“Well then, will you accompany me to eat, or am I too brutish?”

 

 

“Lady Black, must I remind you of all the men you’ve put on their arses in the dining hall?” Satin replied, leading her away.

Notes:

I posted a vikings Ivar x reader work that I'm super proud of (on tumblr too...) so if you want to, feel free to check that out

Chapter 56: Glowstick

Summary:

Daenerys getting a wight, Alethia being a glowstick

Notes:

thanks to darkangel for the wonderful idea of magical entities in Westeros acting as an amplifier (for Al)

 

Sorry about the short chapters, I guess don’t really know how to plot these few chapters since not much of interest happens

It was as if no time had passed as Alethia patrolled along her section of the Wall with an iron-tipped spear and her sword by her side. Daenerys had left that morning, taking Viserion with her at Alethia’s advice. Now, Al was trying to see something in the distance as she tried to ignore the tree stumps that stood as a memorial of the battle and her friend’s deaths.

 

 

She still saw Pyp and Grenn sometimes, there was no denying it and being at the Wall did not help. When she’d finally told Jon about it one night after seeing them during dinner, he’d said nothing, but held her closely. She wondered if he saw some people of his past too.

 

 

Faintly, the sound of metal on metal could be heard from the courtyard and when a Wildling came to take her shift, she travelled down the escalator to see who was training.

 

 

A laugh escaped her as she watched the Hound hack at Jaime, who was barely managing to keep his shield up. Bronn was dueling Tormund with a vigor, both of them laughing at the other’s tricks while Jon and Thoros were a little off to the side, watching and talking. Probably about Melisandre.

 

 

One by one, the spars ended and the men in the courtyard paired up again.

 

“Up for a spar?” Alethia asked Bronn before he could find a new partner. The man nodded and they squared up. Suddenly, Bronn lunged forward, and the duel began. Now that Alethia knew how to fight, she had a whole new perspective on choreographed fight scenes and fighting styles. Therefore, she knew that Bronn wasn’t a brilliant duelist (he was good, but not great) but rather had a good perception of his enemy and intuition that was definitely better than that of most swordmen.

 

 

So, to defeat Bronn, she’d first have to throw him off. Quickly, Alethia threw her sword into her left hand and kicked Bronn’s left foot out from under him. It was enough to make him stumble, but not to make him fall.

 

 

Alethia threw her sword back into her dominant hand and used a technique so foreign to her, she almost thought she looked like a stumbling tree doing it. She hacked and swung at Bronn, imitating Sandor’s, and Tormund’s swings. She knew she wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long and hoped that her façade was enough to fool him.

 

 

Suddenly, she slipped under a wide swing from Bronn and turned her back to him, stopping the sword that was coming back towards her.  As Bronn pressed onto the sword, Alethia quickly stepped outwards and laid her sword against his neck. Bronn raised his brows.

 

 

“Yield.” He said, and Alethia lowered her sword.

 

“Thanks.” Alethia replied, holding up her fist. Bronn looked at her confused.

 

 

“Oh right.” She muttered and picked up Bronn’s hand, bumping fists. Behind her, she could hear Jon and Tormund sniggering loudly.

 

 

…

 

 

When the sun began to sink, Alethia began to worry. Dany had left this morning, surely, she’d be back sooner than this?

 

 

She sat up in the bed abruptly, causing Jon to open his eyes again. “What’s wrong?” he asked carefully.

 

 

“I’m worried about Daenerys. I mean, I know she’s got a dragon, but she’s been out there for an entire day with only a map to guide her.”

 

 

Now, Jon sat up too. “It’s nothing, I am sure.” He tried to reassure, but Alethia could tell he was worried too.

 

 

“I’m going after her.” Alethia decided, already getting out of bed. Gently, Jon caught her wrist.

 

 

“She’s fine. Al, you wouldn’t even know where she flew to. You know what, if she isn’t back by sunrise, we’ll go after her together.” Jon reassured.

 

 

Alethia nodded and sank back into bed. When she finally drifted off to sleep, her dreams were disturbed by the sounds of metal clashing on ice, the blinding pain from her wound and a familiar face that haunted her since the night she’d jumped of the glacier.

 

 

…

 

 

Daenerys did return before sunrise. At what Alethia estimated to be 3 AM (or just the most hellish time to wake up in general), a deafening roar shook the little shack that was Castle Black. Alethia, who had just managed to fall asleep again, groaned and threw back the furs.

 

 

She was one of the first to arrive in the courtyard, still pulling on the strings of her stay as Dany climbed off and Viserion held the wight tightly in his claws. Carefully, Alethia pulled a chain across the floor, that had been prepared for the dragons return.

 

 

She approached the dragon and the wight cautiously, which was thrashing in the mighty beast’s claws.

 

 

Now that she was in such close proximity to both the wight and the dragon, Alethia did not feel as afraid as she should’ve. Instead, she felt intoxicated by the magic around her, drunk on power and as invincible and reckless as she never did.

 

Then, she snapped back to reality and tried to focus on what she was supposed to do. Inside this current of magic around her, Alethia felt like she’d be able to swim around if she wanted to, but instead, she picked up the chains, which suddenly weighed much less, and slung them around the wight until it was restrained. When it snapped its jaw towards her, Alethia couldn’t help herself.

 

 

“Don’t fucking bite me you bitch.” She told the writhing corpse, before dragging it away from the dragon and towards the wooden box.

 

 

Jon’s POV:

 

Jon rushed down the stairs after Alethia, pulling a shirt over his head. When he came to a standstill in the courtyard, he watched as Alethia gave the dragon queen a small nod, before dragging the chains over the icy floor.

 

The corpse thrashed in the dragon’s claws, but Alethia seemed unafraid as she approached two of the most powerful beings in Westeros. Jon admired her courage. He was sure she’d do this even if she could’ve died.

 

He knew Alethia didn’t think of herself as courageous or brave, but for Jon, Alethia was the bravest person he knew. She was the one to take risks and reach out, and never complained, carrying the consequences on her own and devising crazy strategies to save her friends.

 

 

When Jon looked closer again, his jaw almost dropped to the floor. Alethia had her back to him, but as she stood between the dragon and the wight, she seemed to glow in the night.

 

 

As Alethia turned around, dragging the wight behind her did not seem to be hard for her and as she got closer, Jon saw the small cracks on her face beginning to form, as if she was a vase that had been broken and put back together again. The same light that seemed to emanate from her shone from the cracks as she came towards him and threw the wight in the box.

 

 

She closed the box but as soon as she was a few steps more from the dragon and the wight, her knees gave out.

 

Jon rushed forward, trying to catch her, but Alethia caught herself and stood.

 

 

“What happened?” Jon asked her, confused and in awe. If he didn’t love Alethia so much, he was sure he’d fear her in this moment.

 

 

Alethia looked at him, confused. “I don’t know. I felt so powerful.” She said finally. The way she dragged out the word made a shiver run down Jon’s spine. He had almost felt the power himself; he couldn’t imagine what Alethia had experienced.

 

 

She continued talking then, and Jon listened intently. “When I stepped outside and it stopped, I wanted to run back inside this circle of magic. It’s so amazing Jon, and I don’t even know what happened.”

 

 

Jon grabbed her hand; it had become his habit ever since their first kiss. When he touched it, Al’s hand wasn’t cold as it usually was, but bordering on painfully hot.

 

 

“My hand is warm, isn’t it?” Al asked, and Jon nodded. Quickly, Al nodded and let go. Jon found himself missing her touch.

 

 

…

 

 

Satin’s POV (very proud of myself for this one):

 

Satin felt himself grow disappointed yet again as he spotted the white patches on another leaf of the herb. He knew he shouldn’t be that hard on himself, but with every drug that went bad, Satin couldn’t help but wonder if these mistakes had happened to Alethia.

 

 

He shook the feeling and focused on packing the bundle Alethia had asked him to make. When she’d asked him to pack the few herbs, he could hear the evident worry in her voice, probably stemming from the many people she had to take care of.

 

 

As he had learned to be a healer, Satin had found out that it wasn’t all about herbs and medicines, mostly, it was about worrying enough to care. He was glad that he was a healer now though, it made him feel proud.

 

 

While the old Tongue being shouted around in the courtyard wasn’t strange anymore, the loudness of some of the highborn prancing around was still strange to him. In some ways, Satin was glad that they were leaving.

 

 

He rushed down the stairs and into the yard, where the people that had come north with the Dragon Queen were beginning to assemble. Alethia was already there, shouldering a bow and packing something into the saddlebag of a horse. Like when Jon was still Lord Commander, whispers flew around her.

 

 

A smile broke out on Alethia’s face as she saw him.

 

 

“Satin!” she called, pulling her cloak closer as she walked towards him. Alethia still wore the old black garbs from her time in the Watch. Satin was glad that she hadn’t changed much since leaving, only seeming to grow more and more worried as she took more and more people under her wing.

 

 

She’d taken him under her wing too, though probably not purposefully. She was just kind, though she didn’t know it. Alethia pulled him into a tight hug, before stepping back and rubbing her hands together. Satin handed her the bag silently, looking up at the sky as it suddenly began to snow.

 

 

Alethia rolled her eyes. “Seems like some things never fucking change.”

 

 

Satin laughed. Then, Alethia grew more serious. “Satin, if the wights come, take a horse and enough food and make for Winterfell. Don’t tell anyone, just leave. I don’t care if they say it’s cowardly, I don’t want you to get hurt. So many of my friends have died, I don’t need you to do the same.”

 

 

“I know, but I have to stay. I have a duty here.” Satin replied. Alethia nodded.

 

 

“I’ll see you again, no excuses.” She demanded, but Satin saw the tears already forming in her eyes.

 

“No excuses.” He promised. Alethia hugged him again. Then, she abruptly let go and swung herself on the horse.

 

 

Satin watched as she rode up next to Jon, who smiled warmly at her.

 

 

“Don’t worry too much.” Alethia yelled over her shoulder.

 

 

“I could say the same about you.” Satin replied. Alethia only laughed. Satin watched as his friends rode off, away from the Wall and back to a warmer place. Perhaps, one day, he could return to Oldtown and see Martyn again.

 

Satin shook the thought. Martyn was probably dead. His place was here at the Wall.

Notes:

I bullshitted the whole sword technique stuff and sprinkled in a tiny bit of research ;). As always, Alethia is the total mom friend.

The POVs are getting out of hand on purpose

I’ve posted the first two chapter for a miniseries about Alethia’s and Grenn’s friendship from Grenn’s POV (with a few cut scenes) so please go read that and give me some feedback ;)

Chapter 57: Lots of love and an Heir for another moldy castle

Summary:

reuniting with Arya, teasing Shireen abt Rickon, Daenerys finally granting Shireen Storm's End

Notes:

Jon and Alethia are so in love it’s honestly disgusting, just blegh. Yes, I ship Daensa, but it won’t happen in this fic… just a lil passive aggressive flirting maybe

“Al!” Alethia whipped her head around, searching for the source of her name, and spotted Shireen, who was standing at a small archery range. She was one of the first to notice Alethia, quickly putting away her things and briskly walking towards her.

 

 

Alethia jumped off her horse and hugged Shireen tightly. “It’s good to see you’re still in one piece.” Shireen commented.

 

Gella stood behind her. Alethia gave her a careful hug too before stepping back to hand the reigns of her horse to a stable hand.

 

 

“Where’s Jon?” Shireen asked Alethia.

 

 

“He’s still with the dragon queen. I rode ahead to make sure the castle would be ready for the arrival of their graces.” Alethia joked. “Where’s Lady Sansa?”

 

 

“She’s talking to Bran and Meera, about the Wights.” Shireen replied. Alethia was surprised. In that moment, Rickon walked past them and Alethia spotted the prominent blush on his and Shireen’s faces.

 

 

She raised an eyebrow and looked over to Gella, who gave a slight smirk.

 

 

“Soooo….” Alethia began, but Shireen turned even redder.

 

 

“Don’t say anything.” She mumbled.

 

 

“I won’t.” Alethia promised.

 

 

“You should go take a look around, see how everything’s going. We’ll see you at dinner.” Shireen suggested.

 

 

…

 

 

The loud talk of Dothraki, the ringing from the smithy and the chatter of the many soldiers quieted down as Alethia entered the Godswood. It still creeped her out, but Winterfell had become unbearably loud as the North braced for the attack of the dead.

 

Alethia had heard talk that Arya Stark had returned and executed Littlefinger with her sister. What made Alethia happier than the fact that slimeball Baelish was dead though was the fact that Arya still seemed to make friends with everyone.

 

 

Arya was sitting under the Weirwood tree when Alethia approached.

 

 

“I’m still pissed you didn’t finish your math problems that week. Septa Mordane was ruthless.” Alethia joked, and Arya looked up, smirking.

 

 

“You’re still alive.” She noted.

 

“That’s kind of my thing now.” Alethia replied. “When did you get here?”

 

 

“The Onion knight picked up Hot Pie when I was at the Crossroads. I arrived with him and Gendry.”

 

 

“Gendry, huh?”

 

 

“You’re still annoyingly smart. But I could say the same about you and my brother.” Arya replied.

 

 

Alethia laughed. “I hope you don’t mind.”

 

 

Arya shook her head. “Right now, I don’t. But you better don’t break his heart. He’s been smitten with you ever since he could be sure you weren’t insane.”

 

 

She was surprised, so Alethia quickly changed the topic to gloss over the fact that she was a little touched. This was the game of thrones after all, and as of now, Alethia wasn’t sure if she could trust Arya.

 

 

“Still got needle?” Alethia quickly threw in.

 

 

“Right here.” Arya smiled, nodding to her belt. Then, Alethia decided to throw all precaution into the wind. In a few steps, she stood by Arya and hugged her.

 

 

“I’m glad you’re still alive. It would’ve killed me if hadn’t gotten to see your ninja skills sometime.” She said quietly.

 

 

“I always had some great heroes to think about in Braavos. And of course, the girl who told me about all of them.” Arya said.

 

“Whoever that was…” Alethia joked.

 

…

 

 

They all stood in line again, just like when Bobby B had come to Winterfell when Daenerys and Jon rode into Winterfell. Alethia was sandwiched between a few soldiers, thanks to her being late and could barely see the heads of Arya and Shireen as the caravan finally came into the castle.

 

 

She watched as Daenerys and Sansa greeted each other, quite frostily, but they didn’t seem to be as disdainful as in the show. Alethia wanted to stay and say hello to Jon, even if it had only been a day, but as Gerra tapped her on the shoulder and whispered something about an injured smith into her ear, she nodded and walked back into the infirmary to help Maester Wolkan.

 

 

Jon’s POV:

 

 

He hadn’t expected to see Arya standing next to Sansa and Bran, but as his little sister gave him a big grin, he couldn’t help himself.

 

 

Carefully, Jon mussed her hair and nodded to Needle. “I hope you’ve been taking good care of it for me.”

 

 

“Always.” Arya promised. Jon looked around carefully, trying to find Al in the crowd. “She’s in the infirmary, I believe.” Arya said, following his eyes.

 

 

“I’m a terrible brother.” Jon said, running a hand through his hair. Arya raised a brow. “Terribly in love maybe.”

 

 

Jon sighed. “Do you think it’ll make me look like a bad king?”

 

 

“I wouldn’t know. Maybe look after the injured on the way.” His sister suggested in a sarcastic tone.

 

 

Alethia was wrapping a new bandage around the injured smith’s hand when Jon came into the infirmary. Her eyebrows were knitted together in concentration as she had a small pin between her lips and quickly secured the bandage. One of the sisters, Gerra, nudged Alethia and she looked up.

 

 

Al looked up, and she smiled warmly.

 

 

“I, ah, I must discuss some defense strategies with Lady Stahl, if you don’t mind Maester.” Jon awkwardly managed. The Maester nodded.

 

 

As soon as they were out the door, Jon grabbed Alethia’s hand and pulled her to a vacant room.

 

 

Al smiled warmly at him and put a hand on his cheek. Her hand was calloused and slightly cold, but Jon was used to that and leaned into her touch.

 

 

“Is it bad that I missed you even if it was only a day?” Alethia whispered, leaning her forehead on his, closing her eyes.

 

 

“I missed you too.” Jon admitted, carefully placing a kiss on Al’s lips.

 

 

“We need to get to dinner.” Al reminded him. Jon nodded, taking her by the hand again, walking towards the Great Hall. He wanted to hold on as they walked inside and as Al held onto his hand a little tighter for a second, he knew she wanted the same. Still, they let each other go as they rounded the corner.

 

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jon saw Shireen rushing towards them, Rickon not far behind. Jon caught the slight pink on his little brother’s cheeks.

 

 

He caught Shireen half-whispering to Al. “When’s the wedding, huh?” the Baratheon teased.

 

 

Alethia’s head whipped around to look at Shireen. “Did Rickon propose yet?” she teased back relentlessly.

 

 

Jon almost sputtered at the revelation. Confidently, Shireen hooked her arm in Rickon’s, who just smiled at her.

 

 

As they all took a seat at the dais, Jon spotted Bran and Meera deep in conversation, watching Meera carefully fuss around Bran, adjusting the fur on his lap and handing him a bowl with meat.

 

 

Arya was slightly leaning on the new smith, Gendry, while they both joked with a young man that had to be Hot Pie. Morgan was talking to her lover Obara while her mother Ellaria looked on with raised brows.

 

 

He caught Sansa’s eyes, who gave a slight smile. Sansa was sitting next to the Dragon Queen.

 

 

“They’re taking turns staring, huh.” Alethia noticed, taking a sip from her wine goblet. Jon nodded. His eyes wandered over the other people at the dais. Next to the Dragon Queen sat Tyrion Lannister, consuming copious amounts of wine, and sometimes making a jest.

 

 

Next to him was the young girl Missandei. She was maybe the age of Wylla or Lyanna. She had the darker skin of a Summer Islander and big, golden eyes that were looking around the Great Hall curiously. Her hair was dark brown and had big curls that made her stand out from all the bland heads around her.

 

 

She was carefully taking small sips of wine, not saying a word. Even among the Dothraki and the Dornish, she stood out, and she was much younger than most at the table.

 

 

Jon felt a little sorry for her, but Wylla bounced up and sat down on the vacant chair next to her, Lyanna Mormont trailing behind her with her usual sneer.

 

 

“We both have special hair!” Wylla happily exclaimed, pointing to her bright green hair, and the little scribe smiled.

 

 

Suddenly, Daenerys stood from her seat, clearing her throat. As the hall quieted down, Shireen stood up too.

 

 

“When I came to the North, I doubted that the threat of the White Walkers was a real threat, and not just a lie to keep me away from the Iron Throne.” Daenerys began.

 

 

“But when I flew past the Wall and saw the army of the Dead, I knew that the intent, and the honesty of Northerners was true.” A cheer went up in the Hall.

 

 

When the people quieted down again, Daenerys continued. “In the last few days, I have met many new people who mean only good for the future of Westeros. Which is why I am making this announcement today.”

 

 

Daenerys nodded to Shireen. Jon looked over to Alethia, who seemed equally as surprised as he was. The queen let out a quiet sigh, almost too quiet to hear.

 

 

“The last few years, Westeros has been ravaged by war and unsurety. I am in Westeros to restore peace, but as of now, I do not have an heir. This conflict began because there was uncertainty about who should be the heir to the Iron Throne, and I will not let that become a problem should I be bestowed the honor of the throne. Here, before all you witnesses from Dorne, from the Reach, my Dothraki, and in front of the people of the Kingdom of the North, I restore the ancestral seat of Storm’s End to the last member of its house and name Shireen Baratheon my heir apparent.”

 

 

Silence decorated the hall. Then, Alethia began to clap. Quickly, Wylla and Lyanna joined her, cheering their friend on, and then it was Ser Davos and Tyrion, and Jon began to clap too, until the entire hall was clapping for the new heir of the throne.

 

 

Though Jon could see the surprise in Alethia’s eyes, he could also see the satisfaction on her face as her plot came into fruition. And when Shireen whispered something into her mentor’s ear, Alethia smiled in understanding and gave her an exaggerated curtsy.

 

 

“To Shireen Baratheon, the new heir apparent, and to Daenerys Targaryen, rightful queen of the six kingdoms.” Alethia began her toast, and though the smile on Daenerys’ smile turned slightly sour, she raised her cup and the hall cheered for the lost daughter of a legendary commander and failed king, that, in the end, had come out on top entirely on her own.

Notes:

I almost wrote ‘running a hand through his hair apologetically’ but how the fuck does that work? Jon Snow really apologizes by running his hand through his hair. Some tiktok shit, smh.

Chapter 58: Let's start a women's rights movement already

Summary:

just a few snippets at Winterfell before we go South, filling some blank spaces

Notes:

Anyone have any advice for new helix piercings? Thanks ;)

Alethia watched the slow trickle of people leaving Winterfell, making their trek South. She glanced over to Meera, who was overseeing the evacuation of those unable to fight. It had been Alethia’s idea, to evacuate those who couldn’t help in the fight into the Neck and the bogs of the Crannogmen and Meera had written to her father.

 

 

Howland Reed had agreed, only asking that food and drink would be donated and provided so the Crannogmen would be able to survive the winter.

 

 

“Thank you, Meera.”

 

 

“It’s the least I could do.” Meera humbly replied. Alethia shook her head. “Meera, you have done more than most people here. You can be proud of yourself. Without you, Rickon wouldn’t be here, and neither would Bran.”

 

 

Meera looked to her feet and then straightened her back, putting on her brave face. “I’m staying. To fight.” She told Alethia.

 

 

“Good. But in the meantime, try to live for yourself Meera.” Alethia asked her.

 

 

…

 

 

Arya was sitting in the forge, next to Gendry and Hot Pie, when Alethia approached. A huge direwolf was lying at Arya’s feet. Hot Pie was eyeing her with mistrust.

 

 

“I’m glad Nymeria came with you.” Alethia said as she came to a halt in front of the forge.

 

 

“I’m only glad that Hot Pie finally has a model to work off of.” Arya smirked, throwing her friend a conspiratory look.

 

 

“How’s Winterfell been for you, Hot Pie?” Al asked the boy.

 

“Winterhell’s been great m’lady. The Lady Sansa thinks my lemoncakes are the best.” Hot Pie replied happily.

 

 

“Gendry, how are the weapons coming along?”

 

 

“Good, m’lady. But Dragonglass is more brittle than the materials I’m used to. I’d rather work with Valyrian Steel.”

 

 

…

 

 

Alethia watched as Theon embraced Sansa tightly. Daenerys looked on with a tight-lipped smile, but it became more generous when Queen Yara firmly shook her hand.

 

 

“I didn’t know the Queen of the Iron Islands would be aiding in the fight against the Undead.” Alethia said. Yara snorted.

 

 

“Couldn’t leave my little brother alone again. And northern archers are shit.” She smirked.

 

 

Alethia raised an eyebrow. “Don’t let Lady Wylla hear that.”

 

 

She already liked Yara. Maybe it was because she knew that Yara didn’t take any shit from anyone, but it was probably because they were both not straight. That always gave people a bonus n Alethia’s eyes.

 

 

Theon then stood before her awkwardly. “I owe you an apology.” He mumbled.

 

 

“Nah, it’s fine. Already forgot about it.” Alethia waved off. “But I hope you’ll be leading the archers, Theon?”

 

 

The man nodded. “Queen Yara, King Jon is in his solar with Maester Wolkan, but I am sure he will find time to establish those trading routes you were speaking of. Perhaps after your uncle is defeated, we can begin using them?” Alethia suggested. Yara nodded and left the room in long strides.

 

 

…

 

 

The steel clattered on the floor as Alethia held out a hand to her pupil. Sansa gave a dissatisfied grunt and picked up the dagger. Then, she grabbed Alethia’s hand and let her pull her up.

 

 

“At least you know which side to use by now.” Alethia teased. Sansa huffed, affronted.

 

 

“Give me some space and I’ll throw a knife right into your thick skull.” The Lady of Winterfell countered.

 

 

“Ouch, that’s not very ladylike.” Al replied. Sansa’s eyes shone in the shadows of the ruins of the old keep, her hair wild, despite being braided up expertly.

 

Sansa had come up to Alethia soon after they’d retaken Winterfell, asking her to teach her how to defend herself from the likes of Ramsay Bolton. This had turned to combat training and now, the fiery Lady of Winterfell could use throwing knives just as well as her sass.

 

 

But the hand-to-hand combat still lacked a little… She was getting better though. Alethia thought that fighting suited Sansa. It let her show a different side of herself, a side that only Arya had shown when she was younger.

 

 

The small knives fitted Sansa’s style well, even if poisons interested her more. And once she mastered a move, it was almost perfect. In truth, the combat training showed Alethia the wolf blood that Sansa had too.

 

 

When they started fighting again, Al switched out her sword for her dagger. Quickly, she disarmed Sansa, but when the redhead threw her other dagger in her left hand, Alethia was thrown off. Quickly, Sansa grabbed Alethia’s hand and pulled back her fingers, causing Alethia to sink to her knees with the sudden pain.

 

 

“What the hell was that?” Alethia exclaimed, rubbing her fingers.

 

 

“I did it on accident once, when Arya and I were fighting, it works every time.” Sansa smirked.

 

 

“You have to teach me that move.”

 

 

…

 

 

Alethia found Daenerys in the Godswood, standing before the hearttree. She seemed a little unsure as she stared at the weeping face.

 

 

“Didn’t think I’d find you here.” Alethia commented, and Dany whirled around.

 

 

“You took one of my kingdoms away with a tiny toast.” The girl accused bitterly.

 

 

“It wasn’t yours from the start Dany, and you know it.” Alethia argued with a sigh, walking towards the Dragon Queen. A golden crown with three dragon’s heads sat on her head, her silvery hair braided around it. From the red in Dany’s eyes, Alethia could tell she’d cried.

 

 

“Are you okay?” she asked the girl carefully. There was a pregnant pause, and Alethia almost thought Dany hadn’t heard her when she spoke up.

 

 

“I see the way they look at the King of the North here. I’ve gotten that look many times, across the Narrow Sea. But never here. Here, they only look at me like I’m a stranger, even though Westeros is my birthright and he’s the bastard.”

 

 

“Perhaps- “Alethia began, but Dany cut her off.

 

 

“I wanted to break the wheel, to make this world better and yet the only time people seemed to cheer me on was when I named someone else my heir. I thought it was my destiny to rule Westeros, but here I am with nothing but disdain.”

 

 

Alethia looked Dany into her eyes. “Maybe Westeros isn’t your destiny after all. I don’t know what that letter said, but I don’t think it told you to bathe Westeros in fire.”

 

 

Dany shook her head. “No. It didn’t.”

 

 

“Then I have a proposition for you, Daenerys Targaryen.” Alethia said, trying to piece something together. Dany looked at her, full of hope.

 

 

“You Targaryens are conquerors. Conquer those that deserve to be conquered, the lowest of humanity. Go to Dragon’s Bay and conquer the masters, once and for all. You have the love of the people there and Daario Naharis can’t hold those cities, you know it. Conquer a kingdom in the east and make it your own. End slavery for good and make that your legacy. The people here will see you as a usurper, but there? You will always be their liberator.”

 

 

Emotions flashed across Dany’s face. Anger, hope, acceptance, defeat, and defiance. “I don’t know…” Dany began.

 

 

“You were destined to break the wheel, I know that.” Alethia continued. “But the people of Westeros are free, and they don’t think that the wheel exist. The East is a different story. Meeren, Yunkai, Astapor, they’ll fall into chaos if Daario loses his power. So take them, and then take all the other cities that think slavery is normal. Don’t make your dynasty dependent on that of your ancestors but create your own. That’s what you are best at.”

 

 

…

 

 

Finally, the evacuation was finished, and the defenses began to look like defenses. In the Great Hall, the high table was growing fuller and fuller with monarchs, but what was most notably were the many women sitting at it.

 

 

Alethia was proud, knowing that this was a part of her secret legacy. Sansa, Shireen, Daenerys and Yara all sat at the table, discussing war strategies, while Jon looked on with amusement, but also looked very impressed. Gella and Brienne were guarding their respective ladies while Missandei took notes with a little smile at her rickety desk.

 

 

When the court began, the table was rearranged and Alethia took her place next to Jon. She gazed into the crowd and felt proud of herself, truly. Many of the women trickling in were wearing pants and armor from training, various weapons in their belts, and even the ladies wore at least a grim smile of determination.

 

 

Wildlings, Dothraki and Northmen all mingled. Alethia spotted Irri and Jhiqui talking to Lyanna and Wylla. Even the handmaidens of the Targaryen Queen had began to train and Irri was trailing her fingers over the whip Rakharo had pressed into her hands with unsurety, while a scythe was tucked into Jhiqui’s belt with great care.

 

 

As the four girls talked, Rakharo stood off to the side, sometimes sharing a joke with Tormund, who kept glancing over to Brienne.

 

 

The whole Manderly clan had arrived, though the women had already departed to the Riverlands. Alys Karstark and Ned Umber were talking and Alethia noticed that the two were holding hands. Representatives of all houses crowded into the hall, as did some lords from the Vale and the Riverlands. Even a few soldiers from the Stormlands had joined the people in Winterfell.

 

 

What interested Alethia most was the old man standing in a shadowed corner of the great hall.

 

 

As always, Alethia let the others deal with most of the matters brought before either the King in the North or Queen Daenerys. She’d be an idiot to ignore the Blackfish stepping in front of the High Table.

 

 

“Who are you?” Sansa asked him.

 

 

“Brynden Tully.” The man simply replied. Alethia glanced over to Brienne, who was staring like she’d seen a ghost, and then to Podrick who looked about the same.

 

 

“You look like your mother.” The Blackfish told Sansa.

 

 

“We were told that you were killed by Lannister soldiers when aiding Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne in their escape from Riverrun.” Alethia interrupted.

 

 

“Aye, a lie from the bloody Lannisters. I was their prisoner for a while, then I wasn’t. Who are you anyways?” he questioned.

 

 

Alethia had to laugh. “No one important really. The name’s Alethia Stahl.”

 

 

“Aren’t you that witch that got sent to the Wall?” Brynden Tully snarked back. Alethia liked him.

 

 

“That’s me. Still alive, but I must ask, what in the Seven Hells is the Blackfish doing in Winterfell.”

 

 

“Never too late to start looking for a wife.” He replied.

 

 

“Well, maybe you can kill a few of the Undead in your struggle, Blackfish. Until then, welcome to Winterfell.”

 

Notes:

One week of fall holidays is not fucking enough istg

Chapter 59: The Dragonpit

Summary:

We go South (again) and meet petty Queen Cersei

Notes:

Jon x Alethia is definitely Tormund’s otp

Once again, it was time for Alethia to leave Winterfell. The voyage to White Harbor was almost second nature to her by now, and she had to wonder how many times she’d take this path again before she would die – if that was still in the cards for her.

 

 

Overhead, the now-familiar roar of Drogon told her that Dany was coming back from scouting, which at least, gave her a small relief. She had to think about Shireen, who was once again staying behind in Winterfell.

 

 

As Dany’s heir, the queen had decided that she should have a dragon too, and so, Shireen had begun to familiarize herself with Rhaegal. When Alethia had left, Shireen had just bound Rhaegal to her by blood. She’d said that this was something a lot of dragonriders had done.

 

 

Now, Alethia hoped that Shireen was right and would not get eating by a dragon.

 

 

…

 

 

While Jon did not like ships, Sandor Clegane detested them. Alethia had a great time sitting on the deck with Tormund and Sandor, listening to them complain about different things to each other.

 

 

Mostly, little highborn shits. Well, that was until Alethia reminded the Hound that he was, in fact, a highborn southerner. Tormund laughed his ass off, but Alethia told him that he, by Wildling standards, was an important politician and therefore probably highborn too.

 

 

As the days went by, it slowly got warmer and Alethia enjoyed the sun beginning to shine on her back again. The ironborn ships Yara had provided were much faster than the trading cogs from White Harbor, and Alethia always had to smile when she saw Yara flirt with one of the sisters, Gerna, who had taken a liking to the sea.

 

 

Alethia shipped them hard and so did Tormund if she wasn’t mistaken. One night, the two of them sat together when they saw Yara and Gerna slip away.

 

“Finally.” Alethia sighed, “Good for them.”

 

 

“Agh, see how I felt about you and Jon dancing around each other now?” Tormund replied.

 

 

“Was it really that bad?” Alethia asked and Tormund only huffed in frustration.

 

 

…

 

 

King’s Landing did smell like shit. Alethia almost gagged as Sandor walked by.

 

 

“You get used to it.” He said.

 

 

“Sure you do.” Alethia replied. “Have you talked to Arya while you were in Winterfell?” she asked him. He stared at her for a second, then, he nodded.

 

 

The ruins of the dragonpit reminded Alethia of the Colosseum in Rome and sitting down on her prepared chair gave her a bittersweet feeling of homesickness.

 

 

Jon seemed to sense that something was wrong as he turned to Alethia. Carefully, he squeezed her hand, before glowering at Cersei, who had just taken her seat. For a split second, Alethia saw her turn pale and then red with anger as she spotted Jaime, guarding a still empty seat.

 

Alethia had suggested to have Jaime placed next to Dany. She hoped it was enough to throw Cersei off. The Queen had gotten her face back under control, but as Alethia’s eyes met Cersei’s, the older woman realized that she’d been caught.

 

 

Quickly, Cersei looked away, nodding to Qyburn.

 

 

“Is she even coming?” the hand of the Queen snapped at Tyrion.

 

 

“She is the queen.” Was all he replied.

 

 

Suddenly, there was a loud roar overhead, and Alethia recognized Dany sitting on Drogon. From the ground, the dragon was terrifying, casting his large shadow over the dragonpit. Seemingly without a care in the world, Daenerys dismounted Drogon and strolled to take her seat.

 

As Alethia had advised, Drogon stayed in the dragonpit, curling up against a warm and rather sunny wall like a cat.

 

 

Then, Sandor Clegane carried the box with the wight inside the dragonpit. As the dragon and the wight got closer, Alethia felt the intoxicating rush of power again. She wondered how it would be when the army of the dead arrived in Winterfell and there would be three dragons flying overhead.

 

 

She stood up and walked to the box, nodding to Sandor, who leaned against a beam of the dais.

 

Carefully, she pried the well-sealed box open. With magic rushing through her veins, Alethia easily pushed the box over.

 

 

Immediately, a snarling wight ran forward, only to be restrained by chains. Both Euron and Cersei looked utterly terrified at the sight of the half-decaying body in front of them.

 

 

“As you can see, there’s a big fucking problem going on up in the North.” Alethia announced, walking towards the wight. She took out her knife and stabbed through the wight’s head.

 

 

“And it’s not especially easy to kill.” She took out her dragonglass dagger this time, and successfully stabbed the wight, watching it fall to the ground.

 

 

“Why should I help you? The North is an enemy of the crown.” Cersei declared.

 

“This isn’t about the Iron Throne or any other bloody throne.” Alethia replied. “This is about the Living and the Dead. If those things win, there’ll be nothing to rule over. Especially not for you, as you’ll be fighting for them.”

 

 

Cersei paused, and Alethia took her chance to continue.

 

 

“Is that really a world you want? Is that the future that you envision for your baby?” she relentlessly pressed on. This time, there was a sharp inhale from Cersei while Euron wore a smug grin and Jaime paled even more.

 

 

Tyrion looked at her surprised, but knowingly, while Jon kept looking back and forth between her and Cersei.

 

 

“Oh wait. Your baby wouldn’t even be alive then.” Alethia knew it was cruel, but so was Cersei and she had to keep going. For the North.

 

 

“Let me tell you what the future of your child would look like if the Dead won. The Night King will come to King’s Landing. He’ll take your baby from you, if you are still alive at that point, and he’ll freeze their tiny little heart until it stops.

 

Then, that poor child’s eyes will turn blue, not emerald green. The Night King will raise your child up to be a general of the army of the dead. That is, if it’s a boy. He has no true use for girls, after all, they hurt little girls everywhere.”

 

 

Again, Cersei turned even paler as Alethia slowly walked towards her.

 

 

“But your child won’t hold any true power. It’ll kill and raise up the dead, but it’ll only ever be a mindless slave-“

 

 

“Stop!” Cersei commanded. Alethia was almost standing in front of her now. The She-Lion’s voice betrayed her fear, though only slightly.

 

 

“The Iron Throne will send soldiers to Winterfell and won’t attack the North.” Cersei promised. “Under a few conditions.”

 

 

“Of course.” Alethia nodded.

 

 

“During the time my soldiers aid in the fight against the Undead, Daenerys Targaryen won’t continue her conquest against the Iron Throne. And afterwards, House Stark and its vassals won’t raise their arms either against me, or my child.”

 

 

“Agreed.” Alethia quickly assented. Cersei gave a humorless laugh.

 

 

“I’ve never trusted you, girl, and I won’t start now. But I can trust Jon Snow to keep his word. The bastard of Eddard Stark.”

 

 

Now, Jon stood too, walking over to Alethia. “I swear it, by the Old Gods and the New.” He solemnly said.

 

 

“And you, your Grace?” Alethia asked, “What will you swear upon to keep your part of the agreement?”

 

 

“The old Gods and the new of course.” Cersei replied. Alethia snorted.

 

 

“I’d like you to swear on something else.” Alethia said.

 

 

“And what would that be?” Cersei asked.

 

 

“On the life of your unborn child, and the memory of your good children, Tommen and Myrcella. And on the revenge you promised your mother after she died.”

 

 

Alethia saw Tyrion throw her an unappreciative glance from the side. There was a long pause before Cersei spoke again.

 

 

“You are just as disrespectful as that day in Winterfell.” She said. Alethia’s heart sunk. Had she gone too far?

 

 

“But I recognize the need my kingdom is in. So I swear it. But I cannot speak for the Iron Fleet.” She turned to Euron.

 

 

The man shook his head. “I’ve been on many journeys to many countries, and I have seen monstrosities beyond description, but that thing? It scares me. It is the only thing that scares me.” With that, Euron Greyjoy left the dragonpit.

 

 

“He speaks true, but he is a coward.” Cersei said. With a wave of her hand, the Mountain stepped forward. Alethia saw the Hound tense.

 

 

There was a hint of maliciousness left in her smile as Cersei did the last thing she could to regain control of the situation.

 

 

“Ser Gregor Clegane will be leading my men North.” She said, staring straight at the dragon queen. Then, she said her last words before abruptly standing up to leave too.

 

 

“You would better remember what I have done for you, your Magnificence.”

 

Chapter 60: Final preparations

Notes:

The next few chapters are so, so horrible for Jon and Alethia (a friend of mine knows what will happen and DON’T YOU SPOIL IT) I seriously hope y’all will be able to forgive me after I publish them.

I have no clue how battles work so this is just some bullshit as always

The Great Hall of Winterfell was for once empty. Only a few people were in the hall. Alethia, Jon, Davos and Morgan were waiting for Melisandre to come.

 

Finally, a door opened, and Melisandre slipped inside.

 

 

“You wanted to talk to us?” Alethia asked briskly. The Red Woman nodded.

 

 

“The Lord of Light has shown me a few things.” She began. “He was the one who gave you your abilities. They will disappear once the Night King is defeated.”

 

 

Alethia sighed in relief. She did not want to live on for all eternity.

 

 

“There is one more thing.” Melisandre said. “I can send you back to where you came from, but I’ll be dead after the Long Night too. It is my destiny. This is your only chance to return, however, it might doom this world.”

 

 

“No.” Alethia quickly said. “I’m staying, I can’t go back. Not after what I’ve seen and not after meeting the people I know.”

 

 

Jon smiled at her. Melisandre and Alethia both looked at Morgan. Alethia’s heart sunk. Morgan was awfully quiet. Without Obara here, there was no real pressure for her to decide.

 

 

“I want to go back.” She said decidedly. Melisandre nodded.

 

 

“WHAT?” Alethia said. “You can’t do that. You’re one of the most powerful people here, you have to help us defeat the Night King!”

 

 

Morgan looked at her, a tortured expression on her face. “I want to go back.” She repeated.

 

 

“You can’t go back. Four years passed there, we’re both probably seen as dead. That world moved on without us, how will we ever get back, truly? It won’t work Morgan and you know it.”

 

 

“Still.” She insisted. “I need to go back. I don’t belong here and neither do you.”

 

 

“You’re my friend, but I can’t let you do this, Morgan. How will it ever be like before? We’ve both killed people, we’ve changed who we are and there are people that care about us here!”

 

 

“There are people who care about us back home!” Morgan exclaimed.

 

 

“Who mourned us! How would you explain this?!” Alethia argued.

 

 

“I don’t care how I’d explain this, I want to go home.”

 

 

“YOU CAN’T! You need to stay here and protect your new family.” Alethia said.

 

 

“That’s easy for you to say. But unlike you, my parents cared about me.” Morgan snarled. It was a low blow, mean and cruel.

 

 

“And what do you think I should tell Obara?” Alethia exclaimed. “That you just left? That you went back because you didn’t care enough? Morgan, you’re leaving this world to die!”

 

 

“Maybe you’re right, Thia. But this isn’t MY world.”

 

 

“It should be. But you’re to coward to fight this battle. 14-year-old you would be ashamed. You’re not the girl that marched for Women’s rights, or Black Lives Matter. Why don’t you care this time? If you leave now, you’ll be remembered as the greatest coward of this world. Is that who you want to be remembered as?”

 

 

“I DON’T CARE BECAUSE THIS WORLD ISN’T FUCKING REAL!” Morgan yelled. “Why don’t you get that Al? This world isn’t real, did you forget? It’s only a story. Who cares how it ends?”

 

 

Alethia paled. The hall was silent. “How can this not be real to you?” she asked. “These people, who are fighting for their lives? We are a part of them!” she whispered.

 

 

Morgan shook her head. “It’s only a book.” She repeated “I can’t bring myself to care about one man’s imagination more than myself.”

 

 

Tears began burning in Alethia’s eyes, but she wouldn’t let them spill. “This world is real. We changed its fate because we knew about the story but isn’t that what makes it real? Our impact here is so much greater than it could ever be anywhere else. We were always searching for our purpose and maybe it’s here, in this fictional world that became real. This is the fight of our lives.”

 

 

“You can’t change my mind, Alethia.” Morgan said.

 

“I know.” Alethia sighed. “You were always too stubborn for your own good.”

 

 

“And you too loyal.” Morgan said. “Will you explain it to Obara?”

 

 

Alethia nodded. She couldn’t make this decision for her friend.

 

 

“I will begin with the ritual.” Melisandre quietly interjected. Alethia looked to Morgan and nodded.

 

 

It only took a few minutes before it looked like a gateway was appearing in the fire in one of the hearths. All the while, the hall was completely silent.

 

 

“I guess this is goodbye then.” Alethia said.

 

 

“I always thought you’d be the one to move away again.” Morgan replied. Carefully, she handed Alethia her weapons. She couldn’t take them where she was going. Then, Morgan gave Alethia a reluctant hug.

 

 

“Thanks.” She almost whispered. “Morgan?”

 

 

“Yeah?”

 

 

“Take care of my little brother for me. Don’t let my family ruin him too.” Alethia asked. “And tell him I love him.”

 

 

“I will.”

 

 

“I guess it’s time for goodbye then.” Alethia said. She knew the realization would hit her tonight when the night brought peace to Winterfell. “Don’t look back, Morgan. I hope you find home.”

 

 

“Thank you Alethia, for everything.”

 

 

And with that, Morgan Aydın disappeared through the flames, becoming the fire that ran through her veins.

 

 

…

 

 

Jon and Alethia sat under the great Weirwood tree when the sun began setting and Alethia began to cry. Immediately, Jon was by her side.

 

 

“Are you alright, Al?” he asked.

 

 

“I wish Morgan hadn’t left.” She sobbed. Carefully, Jon knelt next to her. “I thought you didn’t care that much.” He replied.

 

 

“I’ve said goodbye to my friends so often when I moved to new places that it lost meaning. I- it always takes some time before I realize they’re gone.”

 

 

“That’s a relief.” Jon laughed, wiping away her tears. “It’s good that you care so much.”

 

 

“Is it?” Alethia asked. “Sometimes I doubt it.”

 

 

“You saved almost all of your friends; I think.” Jon replied.

 

 

“No. My friends saved me. If I’d only had Pyp and Grenn I’m pretty sure I would’ve thrown myself off a tower after they died.” Alethia said coldly.

 

 

Jon paled a little. “Don’t say that.”

 

 

“Why? Can’t handle a little death?” Alethia asked.

 

 

“Not when it’s you, or my friends we’re talking about.” Jon said.

 

 

“Jon, we can’t let Edd or Sam die. Or Shireen, or Tormund or Wylla. None of them.”

 

 

“None of them.” Jon promised.

 

 

…

 

 

Alethia was patrolling the ramparts with the Blackfish and Arya when the horn was blown.

 

 

Once.

 

 

When she looked up, Alethia realized Jon was manning the ramparts. She glanced into the distance and indeed, men of the Night’s Watch were riding into Winterfell.

 

 

Alethia spotted Satin and ran towards him. “What happened?” she asked.

 

 

Satin said nothing, but the horror in his eyes was enough to tell her.

 

 

They were coming. The Wall had fallen to the Dead.

 

 

…

 

 

 

Alethia helped Satin carry his supplies to the infirmary as Jon guided the other men inside the Great Hall. There, the lords and ladies that had promised to protect Winterfell were gathered.

 

 

From the Westerlands and also the Crownlands, Genna Lannister and her younger brother Tygett commanded the Lannister forces. They sat proudly, despite the hateful glances cast in their direction. A few of their commanders sat among them, as well as the lords that willingly followed them North.

 

 

In the back, lounging on benches as if this was a feast, were the dornishmen. Alethia knew it was all pretending. Ellaria Sand commanded them. Obara stood next to her, silent. She had been angry and yelled at Alethia when she told her about Morgan, but now, she was ready to fight again.

 

 

Next to them were, surprisingly enough, the lords representing the Reach. Unlike the way it had been, Olenna Tyrell died in her sleep and with that, Willas Tyrell had inherited Highgarden. Garlan Tyrell had come to Winterfell to represent his forces.

 

 

The lords of the Vale and the Riverlands intermingled, together with the Northern Lords and the Stormlanders. Most of them had answered the summon from Shireen and among them were the houses Errol, Estermont, Peasebury and Wylde.

 

 

But still, the Northerners made up the vast majority and among those, many were children who would fight to protect their home.

 

 

Finally, as the noise quieted down, Jon stood to explain the plan. There were still notes strewn about the table he, Alethia, Daenerys, Sansa, Arya, and Shireen were sitting at.

 

 

“Lords, Ladies, the Dead march on Winterfell. They’ll be here in the night after this one, and we are prepared.” He cleared his throat.

 

 

“First, her Graces Daenerys Targaryen and Shireen Baratheon will be leading the Dothraki and Unsullied charge on Dragonback. They will meet the Dead in the field, North of Winterfell. We will let them be pushed back by the Dead until they are in reach of our archers.

 

Queen Yara Greyjoy of the Iron Islands is commanding our archers, who will be stationed among the ramparts. I ask all commanding officers to let their archers report to Queen Yara on the morrow after they break their fast. This should be done by all other units and assignments too.

 

The Dead will breach our walls. Inside the old keep, we will station all Lannister footsoldiers, as well as all soldiers from the Reach. The new keep will be protected by Northern archers, which will be led by Lady Lyanna Mormont and Lady Wylla.

 

When the Dead are inside the Old Keep, I want all the other soldiers that crossed the Narrow Sea with Queen Daenerys and the Stormlanders to join the fight and come from the inner keep.

 

Ned Umber and Alys Karstark are in charge with the evacuation that will stop midday tomorrow. After that, they’ll protect those that can’t fight. The Free Folk, however, will be in the Godswood. There are very few wargs left, but I want them fighting in their own way. The rest of the Free Folk will protect the wargs and my brother Bran Stark.

 

Bran will act as a lure for the Dead. Eventually, they’ll attempt to get into the Godswood. Here, we need the people from the Vale, the Riverlands and Dorne to lead a second charge.

 

In case all of this fails, the Northerners will fight for as long as they can. Meera Reed will then ride back to her father’s keep in the Neck to notify him. If we lose this fight, the Crannogmen will notify the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.

 

 

Do you have any questions?” Jon finished.

 

 

“Is all of this really necessary?” Tygett Lannister asked.

 

 

“We can only hope it is enough.” Jon replied.

 

Notes:

Ik you guys hate me for sending Morgan back, but she’s based on my best friend and that’s what she’d do (yes, I asked her), so that’s how I wrote her.

Chapter 61: Vows

Summary:

A familiar face reappears at Winterfell and a little sweet surprise before the Long NIght goes down

Notes:

get ready for some real fluff and a nice little surprise

i had to post this early bc I'm just so happy about everything that happened in here

A glum, dark mood hung heavy over the Great Hall. It was understandable, for many, this would be their last meal. Alethia glanced around the Hall.

 

 

Shireen and Dany sat at the dais as Shireen handed the Targaryen a dragonglass dagger. They were both wearing light armor that would, hopefully, protect them from arrows or other crossfire as they rained hell onto the dead with the fire of their dragons.

 

 

Most fighters were pacing, but Wylla and Lyanna sat quietly as they attempted to fletch a last few arrows. They were accompanied by many other young ladies, including Sansa. She was sharpening a dagger Alethia had slipped her during one of their lessons, a grim look of determination on her face, even if she would hide during the battle.

 

 

It was comforting for Alethia to know that men of the Night’s Watch were here too, people that she’d known for the last few years. Suddenly, she noticed a man with a gray beard, but an unmistakable sneer at the back of the hall.

 

 

She looked to Jon, who was talking to Tormund and Edd. Quietly, Alethia disappeared from her spot and snuck up behind the man.

 

 

“I promised I’d kill you on sight.” She snarled. The man didn’t look at her in an attempt to keep his cover.

 

 

“Lady Black. Always so cheerful.” He replied.

 

 

“Oh, so now’s the time to joke, Ser Alliser?” Alethia snarled.

 

 

He didn’t say anything at first, but his look of disgust wavered for a second. “I swore a vow.” Was all he said.

 

 

“If you’re so eager to die, then you can fight alongside the Lannisters and Tyrells. Report to one of the commanders and make up your own story.” She spat. Alethia wanted to go, leave him there to wallow, but in the last second, she turned around.

 

 

She silently handed him a dragonglass dagger. Thorne nodded, acknowledging her with some kind of respect, before leaving the Great Hall.

 

 

…

 

 

Even though the bed was comfortable, Alethia couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning. Jon had turned away from her and so, she didn’t want to risk waking him.

 

 

As if he could read her thoughts, he suddenly turned to face her. “Can’t sleep either.” He said.

 

 

She sat up, leaning against the cool headboard. Nervously, Alethia grabbed her dagger, twirling it in her hand. “We might die tomorrow.” She said absentmindedly.

 

 

“I might die tomorrow.” She added. It was a strange thought, that she’d suddenly be mortal again after the Night King died. If she was gravely injured, then… she shook the thought.

 

 

Jon’s hand found hers and Alethia tried to relax. She couldn’t.

 

 

“Let’s get married now.” She said. Abruptly, Jon sat up. “What?” he asked.

 

 

“You proposed to me, we might die tomorrow, let’s get married now.” She said. Jon jumped up, hastily searching for a cloak and Alethia knew that this was his way of agreeing.

 

 

Quickly, she searched through her chest, looking for the whitest dress she could find. “We need to get Edd, he can officiate.” She began. “And maybe Tormund can get me there, he knows how Nothern marriages work and…” Alethia continued rambling.

 

 

“I need Sansa!” she suddenly exclaimed. “I can’t get married with my hair looking like this!”

 

“I’ll get her.” Jon promised, a wide grin on his face. “You just… stay here.” He rushed out of the door, leaving Alethia to pace.

 

 

A few minutes later, Sansa burst through the door, armed with a comb and a few flowers. Despite her bad experiences with husbands, she too, was grinning.

 

 

“I heard someone was getting married and came running.” She exclaimed. Only then did Alethia notice the dress and cloak in Sansa’s hand. Sansa followed her gaze and smiled even wider if that was possible.

 

 

“I figured you’d get married soon so I made you a cloak and- “she began. Alethia jumped up, losing all poise, and hugged Sansa.

 

 

“Thank you.” She said earnestly.

 

 

…

 

 

Half an hour later, Alethia giddily ran through Winterfell’s empty corridors, Sansa having disappeared to the Godswood. Tormund was wearing an amused smile as he saw her running towards him.

 

 

“I barely know all the fancy words.” He warned.

 

 

“Doesn’t matter.” Alethia replied.

 

 

“Shall we?” Tormund pitched his voice, offering Alethia an arm. With a smile, she took it, trying not to run into the Godswood too.

 

 

Sansa had made Alethia a black ‘maiden cloak’ that had been carefully draped by the Lady of Winterfell, but no doubt ruined by Alethia’s running. Her wedding dress… well, it was gorgeous, thanks to Sansa’s tailoring.

 

 

Alethia had never expected to get married, and yet, here she was. She ran her fingers over the white fabric and the gold-and-green embroidery that had become her unofficial house colors.

 

 

Jon’s POV (you know I had to):

 

 

He had been standing in the Godswood for about ten minutes, almost jumping up and down when he finally spotted two figures between the trees.

 

 

As a bastard, he’d never expected to get married, and yet, here he was, glancing to the grey-and-white cloak that Sansa had made for him, and Satin was holding. It wasn’t part of the Northern way, but he didn’t mind.

 

 

Edd, who was officiating the marriage, looked slightly less bitter than usual. Only a few other people were gathered. Shireen, the sisters, Davos, a few Free Folk, and men of the Watch as well as Arya, who’s hair was even more ruffled than usual.

 

 

When she finally came into view, Jon’s jaw dropped. He could only stare, knowing that he owed Sansa more than just a few lemon cakes now. He was so focused on Al that he almost didn’t hear Edd speak.

 

 

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” he asked.

 

 

“Alethia, of House Stahl, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, strong and cunning. She comes to ask the blessings of the Gods, who comes to claim her?” Tormund replied.

 

Jon noticed the slight changes Tormund had made, but they fitted Alethia more. She was her own person, and the original vows wouldn’t have made sense as much.

 

 

“Jon Snow. King in the North and former commander of the Night’s Watch. Who gives her?” Jon replied.

 

 

“Tormund Giantsbane, of the Free Folk, who… fought at her side many times.” Tormund filled in.

 

 

“Alethia, do you take this man?” Edd asked. Jon held his breath. It was ridiculous, he knew she would say yes, but he couldn’t help himself.

 

 

“I take this man.” She nodded. Now came the Southern part that Sansa had quickly implemented. Alethia unfastened her black cloak and let Jon put the grey-and-white cloak with the sigil of House Stark on her shoulders.

 

 

They both grinned at each other.

 

 

“Well, go on and kiss her.” Tormund urged.

 

 

A cheer went up around the few people there as Jon kissed his now-wife. “I love you.” He said.

 

 

“I know.” Al replied. “I love you too.”

 

 

A few people lingered after the ceremony, but one by one, they all disappeared to wait for the battle to come. With a smirk, Alethia began pulling Jon towards their room.

 

“Where are we going?” he asked, pretending not to know exactly what Alethia was planning.

 

 

“You have a wedding to consummate husband.” She teased. Finally, they stood in front of the door. Jon opened it, but Alethia stood in front of the door, as if she was frozen in place.

 

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Suddenly, Al blushed a light pink.

 

 

“Uh, there’s a tradition where I’m from that the groom is supposed to carry the bride over the threshold of their new home. Probably stupid but- “she replied, letting out a surprised squeal as Jon picked her up and carried her into their room.

 

 

When he sat her down on the bed, she was wearing a content smile. “I’m pretty sure that this is the best decision I’ve made since coming to this world.”

 

 

 

Notes:

Carrying the bride over the threshold is a real tradition in Germany. Since their wedding was so spontaneous, I sadly couldn't include the Polternacht, where the 'betrothed' smash all their porcelain together.

Chapter 62: The Long Night

Summary:

the Long Night...

Notes:

tw: depictions of violence, gore, death (duh), ptsd

@Darkangel620, I think you'll have a lot to write about after this chapter

Alethia didn’t know if she expected the sun to rise the next morning, so when it stayed dark, she knew they were here.

 

 

She stood on the ramparts, next to Jon. Shireen and Dany were with them going over the last preparations and plans. Just a few seconds ago, Alethia had said goodbye to Wylla and Lyanna. And now it was time to say goodbye to Shireen.

 

 

Carefully, she hugged the girl that had become a woman is such a short time. “Shireen, please be careful. You are so important to so many people, take care of yourself.”

 

 

Shireen nodded. “I cannot imagine a world without you Alethia. If you die tonight, I don’t know what I’ll do. Promise me you’ll stay alive.”

 

 

“I swear it.” Alethia honestly replied.

 

 

She watched as Shireen climbed on Rhaegal, his bronze scales shimmering just like her armor. As the Baratheon shut her visor, a sense of helplessness settled in Alethia’s guts chilling her to the bone. Daenerys followed, climbing on Drogon.

 

 

As the horn announced the coming of the Dead with three blows, Alethia turned to Jon. With a few steps, she closed the distance between them and kissed Jon desperately. Jon held her close, and Alethia could hear his heart wildly beating.

 

 

Can a man be brave when he is afraid?

 

 

                             That is the only time a man can be brave.

 

 

The words seemed to echo in her head just as Jon’s.

 

 

“I love you.” Alethia said.

 

 

“I love you too.” Jon replied.

 

 

The horn sounded again and Alethia broke away from Jon, who disappeared towards the Godswood to protect Bran. Just then, Edd walked towards her.

 

 

“You two are sickeningly sweet.” He complained. Alethia smiled. As she looked towards the dark horizon, a grim determination drove out her fear.

 

 

“This is like Hardhome all over again.” She murmured.

 

 

“Aye.” Edd replied. “Can’t say I’m excited.”

 

 

Alethia snorted, grabbing a bow and some arrows to join Yara on the ramparts. She needed to be at the front of it. This was why she was here.

 

 

“Al.” Edd said. Alethia turned around. “Don’t die.”

 

 

“Why does everyone keep saying that to me?” Alethia joked. “I’ve made it this far.”

 

 

…

 

 

Alethia felt numb as she pulled another arrow back and released it towards the never-ending horde. Her fingers hurt from the cold and the exertion, and she felt the fear creep back in. The fire of the Dothraki had been extinguished as they charged into their demise, unafraid.

 

 

Mindless wights had begun clawing their way up the walls of the outer keep, suffocating the Unsullied beneath them. Alethia stood on the ramparts, fighting to the best of her abilities when she saw him.

 

 

Drogon screeched overhead as Daenerys urged him towards the Night King, but as the dragon bathed him in fire, he came out unharmed.

 

 

That’s one too many Unburnt. Alethia thought.

 

 

She ran towards Yara, who had paled at the sight of the Night King too.

 

 

“We have to retreat!” She shouted at Yara. A gust of harsh wind that was only supposed to be possible at the Wall swept her words away. Desperately, Alethia grabbed Yara’s arm and yanked her backwards, away from one of the first wights that crossed the ramparts.

 

 

“We have to retreat.” She repeated, more urgently and Yara nodded. The woman bunched up some snow and threw it at the ironborn occupying the horn. The man turned around in an instance and when Yara commanded him to sound the horn, he did so immediately.

 

 

Quickly, Alethia retreated. She saw the others rush downstairs and ladders, but it was too crowded. Alethia looked down the ramparts and sighed. There was no snow, and she was a bad climber, but right now, she was immortal.

 

 

Alethia made it down halfway before she slipped and began falling backwards. Quicker than she thought possible, she launched a knife into the frozen wall. There was a horrible screech, but her descent was slowed, and she made it to the bottom safely.

 

 

She was met with the bewildered stares of Lannister and Tyrell men. “They’re coming.” She managed, before the dead crashed over the ramparts, not caring if they shattered at the ground. Nervously, Alethia drew her sword, getting into fighting stance.

 

 

They were a swarm.

 

 

Alethia was thrown backwards, air knocked out of her as the wights swarmed scrambling soldiers that had nowhere to run. She slashed at the mass of dead bodies blindly, hoping to kill something.

 

 

Slowly, the air around her began to get less suffocating, but it wasn’t because of the Wights becoming less and less. No. It was the soldiers dying all around her, screaming as wights ripped chunks of flesh from their bodies.

 

 

A wight ran toward Alethia and she killed it quickly, slicing through what was left of the body.

 

 

As she turned around, all air was sucked out of her. It felt like a punch to the stomach.

 

 

There stood Karsi, eyes blue, lips peeled back.

 

 

“No.” Alethia whimpered. “Please. Oh god, no.”

 

 

She wasn’t sure why the wight made her panic so much. This wasn’t Karsi, it would be mercy to kill the wight, yet she wished she didn’t have to do it.

 

 

Then, Karsi charged towards her as Alethia stood frozen. Only when the wight crashed into her did she regain her senses. She wanted to grab the dagger Aemon had given her, but before she had the chance, the wight stopped moving and someone offered her a hand.

 

 

Alethia took it, and as the man pulled her up, she found herself face to face with Ser Alliser. She slapped his hand away, but as a wight charged at him, she hurled her dagger into the corpse.

 

 

“We’re even. I’ll still kill you after this.” She snarled, pulling the dagger out of the corpse as quickly as she could.

 

 

.. .

 

 

How long she’d been fighting, Alethia wasn’t sure. It could’ve been hours or days and yet, the sun made no attempt to rise. She’d seen the Tyrells and Lannisters get slaughtered, the Dornishmen and Stormlanders get pushed back, Viserion be injured and too many wights to be counted. Were there more wights than stars?

 

 

At this point, Alethia had only one last goal: get to the Godswood to end this.

 

 

Exhaustion pulled her down as she tried to get through wights and other soldiers alike when she spotted a flash of green amongst the mass of bodies.

 

 

Not Wylla. What is she doing here? She’s too young, she was supposed to stay on the ramparts. Please don’t let her die.

 

 

Somewhere inside her, Alethia found the strength to run and bolted towards Wylla. There were only a few wights between them when she heard her scream.

 

 

It was the scream of a girl. A scream that didn’t belong on battlefields.

 

 

Her vision became less clouded, and she saw Wylla fighting off three wights at once, but one had bitten her leg and pulled her down. Furiously, Al cut through all obstacles, slashing the wights off of Wylla.

 

 

“What are you doing down here?” Alethia asked, pulling Wylla up and carrying her away.

 

 

“I wanted to fight. I wanted to protect my home.” Wylla replied and Alethia heard her voice tremble. As she looked at the girl properly, she saw gashing wounds on her arms and chest. Wylla was pale from blood loss already.

 

 

Quickly, Alethia pulled Wylla into an alcove, trying to shield her from the battle. As she began to stop the bleeding, Wylla’s eyes began to close.

 

 

“Hey! Stay awake, don’t close your eyes.” Alethia commanded. When Wylla didn’t respond, Alethia slapped her across the face. The girl’s eyes snapped open and Wylla began clawing at Alethia’s arms, suddenly panicking.

 

 

“Please don’t let me die. Please Alethia.” She begged. “I don’t want to die.”

 

 

Alethia couldn’t comfort her. Instead, she tried to help Wylla to the best of her abilities.

 

 

It was hopeless.

 

 

“You’re okay.” Alethia lied. “You’re okay, you’re fine. You’ll see White Harbor soon, I promise.”

 

 

Her vision began to blur as Wylla’s breathing slowed and finally, stopped completely. Never in her life, not even when Grenn had died, had Alethia felt this defeated. Wylla’s death was her fault. She’d let her learn how to fight; she’d put her in charge of the archers.

 

 

Carefully, Alethia closed Wylla’s eyes. She attempted to wipe away the blood on her small neck, but she failed. When she saw the mermaid pendant Wylla was wearing, Alethia choked with sorrow and pain. Snarling wights ran towards her and she turned around to kill them, only to fall back on her knees in front of Wylla.

 

 

Out of the corner of her eyes, a spot of white and yellow caught her eyes. There they were, daisies that cracked through the stones, persevering against all odds.

 

 

Daisies stood for innocence and femininity. They were sacred to Freya, goddess of love and war.

 

 

It was ironic, it was cruel and yet, Alethia found herself taking out her dagger and cutting them by the stem, putting the delicate flowers in Wylla’s green hair.

 

 

When she felt the presence of a quiet shadow, Alethia turned around and saw Lyanna. Her lips were pressed into a thin line and Alethia saw the tears ready to spill.

 

 

“I’ll protect her.” Lyanna promised. Alethia nodded.

 

 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

 

 

“I know.” Lyanna responded.

 

 

Alethia pulled herself up and retrieved her weapons. She still needed to find Jon.

 

 

The inferno resumed as soon as she stepped outside. One moment, it seemed like the living were gaining on the Dead, but then the Dead pushed back again. Finally, Alethia could see the entrance to the Godswood.

 

The dead were there too, and as she caught glimpse of a mop of dark hair fighting, she hoped it was Jon.

 

 

Alethia charged forward, cutting through wights when two White Walkers stepped into her way. Her heart plummeted and Alethia felt like she was ready to choke.

 

 

As she readied Lucifer and her dagger, the first Walker swung at her. Alethia dueled the creature to the best of her abilities. She managed to plunge Lucifer into its neck, using her newfound leverage to pull herself closer and stab it.

 

 

It shattered into ice and Alethia felt a cool sting as a shard cut her cheek. The other Walker charged too, wearing a grin that scared Alethia more than anything. These things weren’t supposed to have feelings. In that moment, she felt so weak and afraid that she wondered how she would be able to lift her sword again.

 

 

She had to anyways, so she brought up her sword to block a swing from the White Walker, but it was too strong and Alethia fell backwards. She scrambled away and jumped back up, but the Walker had used her mistake and slashed at her chest. It missed, but it cut down Alethia’s leg.

 

 

Briefly, she was brought back to her chamber, with the mutineers holding her down, ready to rape her.

 

 

It was the pain that brought her back to reality.

 

 

Alethia tried to fight the White Walker, but her wound and exhaustion made her slower and slower. Her swings became sloppier and when the White Walker sliced up her arm, she could only stumble backwards.

 

 

This was how she was going to die if they won against the Night King, alone, afraid, and utterly hopeless.

 

 

But then, Viserion surged overhead, and the magic of the White Walker and dragon combined made her burn on the inside. The strength was just enough to stab at the White Walker and make it stumble backwards, but as Drogon flew overhead too, the fire became too much.

 

 

Alethia reached forward, not sure why, and grabbed the Walker by the neck. She screamed and it was beastly, inhuman, filled with contempt.

 

 

Pain and relief surged through her, and she barely felt the injuries the White Walker added to her mangled body as she let the magic leave her body and destroy the creatures.

 

 

And then, it was over. Alethia pulled herself up and ran forward, only to fall to her knees. She saw her own blood pool around her and yet, she needed to get to Jon.

 

 

It was the only thing that mattered.

 

 

She got back up, only to stumble again. Alethia crawled past trees and fighting warriors, hoping to go unnoticed. A wight jumped on her and she stabbed it with her dagger. Where her sword was, she didn’t know.

 

 

The last few meters, she pulled herself forward on her arms, every centimeter of her body protesting. Black spots began to dance at the edge of her vision as she began to see the red leaves of the great Weirwood tree.

 

 

Jon. He was in front of her, only a few meters, but then, he disappeared as he weaved through the forest. Alethia wanted to shout for him, but she couldn’t.

 

 

She managed a few more undignified centimeters before the void began to swallow her.

 

 

“Jon.” She whispered at last before she let unconsciousness take her.

 

 

.. .

 

 

The void didn’t swallow Alethia up.

 

 

It enveloped her and let her rest for a while before it spat her out again.

 

 

I am awake.

 

 

Alethia surged up, gasping for breath. She looked around panicked, before seeing Sansa sitting in a chair next to her bed.

 

 

“Sansa!” she croaked, falling out of the bed, and stumbling towards her.

 

 

The Lady of Winterfell looked up, and Alethia saw how distraught she seemed now.

 

 

Her normally perfect hair was wildly tumbling down her shoulders and her eyes were red and puffy from crying. She was shaking and as she looked at Alethia, tears began rolling down her face.

 

 

Is Theon dead? Alethia wondered. She knelt before Sansa’s chair, unable to move any further.

 

 

“Hey.” She said softly. Sansa tried to look at her, but her eyes flitted away. “We’ll be better, we’ll be okay.” Alethia promised.

 

 

Sansa shook her head. “Sit down Al. Please.” She said. Alethia obliged, sitting down on the chair Sansa had offered her. Sansa took her calloused hand in her soft, slender ones.

 

 

“Alethia. I don’t know how to say this.” Sansa began. She took a deep breath. “Jon is dead.”

 

 

Alethia felt sick. Her heart began racing as she stumbled towards the door. She needed out.

 

 

“I don’t believe you.” Alethia snarled. “How can you say something like that? Where is he?” Sansa didn’t say anything.

 

 

Alethia stumbled and then crawled back towards Sansa, pulling the younger woman from her chair and onto the floor. Her face was almost touching Alethia’s.

 

 

“Where the hell is he?” Alethia punctuated. When Sansa began crying again, Alethia felt bile rise in her throat.

 

 

“No.” she repeated. “Please, no. You’re lying. He can’t be dead.” She was trying to keep herself under control, but as she saw Sansa’s face, she knew Sansa hadn’t lied.

 

 

Alethia howled. She screamed until her throat was raw and burning, and then she continued, until no sound came out. Sansa carefully crept toward her.

 

 

“I had them wait to bury him until you woke up.” She said quietly. Alethia was unable to say anything. She felt like she was dead herself as Sansa dressed her and brushed her hair. She let Sansa guide her towards the crypts. Tormund stood outside, and so did Edd, but Alethia was unable to feel anything but her own grief and pain.

 

 

Arya stood outside the crypts, an angry snarl on her young face as she guarded her brother’s final resting place. Her face did not soften for Alethia.

 

 

Sansa let Alethia go inside before following. “They found him a few meters away from you.” She said quietly. “He killed the Night King. He’s the reason we won.”

 

 

“I don’t care.” Alethia replied “I don’t care about any of that.”

 

 

They walked past the figures of Eddard and Robb before they rounded a corner. Jon’s grave was being dug next to Lyanna’s. The workers disappeared as they saw Sansa and Alethia approach. Soon after, Tormund and Edd appeared, carrying Jon’s body.

 

 

Jon’s cold, dead body.

 

 

He was dead. Dead with no one to bring him back. He looked peaceful in death. His eyes were closed, and scars covered. He was wearing fresh clothes and had no trace of blood on him.

 

 

If she closed her eyes, Alethia could almost hear him.

 

 

“After all of this, maybe we can start a family.”

 

 

“Maybe we can. I’d like to, I think.”

 

 

“Do you want to have children now?”

 

 

“Yes. I think I do.”

 

 

“If we have a girl, I want to name her after my aunt. Her name should be Lyanna.”

 

 

“And a boy? We could always name him Jon Jr.”

 

 

Jon chuckled as he held Alethia close.

 

 

“That sounds ridiculous. But I think Eddard or Ned would be nice. Maybe Robb.”

 

 

“Lyanna and Eddard. And maybe even a Robb.” Alethia agreed.

 

 

She couldn’t take it anymore. Alethia ran. She didn’t know where, but she ignored the ruins of the battle, she ignored the pyres that were being built and she ignored her pain. Then, she stood in front of her door.

 

 

The last time, Jon had carried her over the threshold. Alethia opened the door and went inside. Her eyes immediately fell on Jon’s cloak, lying forgotten over his chair.

 

Alethia didn’t make it to the chamber pot before she vomited. She hurled her guts out, and cried again and when she saw the cloak, she vomited again.

 

 

She stayed like that, unmoving until someone found her. Paralyzed, Alethia sat there while the other person cleaned around her. She flinched when they touched her face, but as she recognized Gerra, she let the sister help her.

 

 

Gerra hauled her onto the bed and sat down on the edge, holding out a tray of food in front of her.

 

 

“You need to eat.” She said

 

 

“I’m not hungry.” Alethia replied.

 

 

Gerra sighed. She patched up Alethia’s wounds and then, she left her alone. Alethia’s eyes wandered around the room. She saw Lucifer leaning against the wall and a vile thought came into her mind.

 

 

Slowly, Alethia inched over to the sword. She held it up, the metal cool against her fingertips. Then, she put it back to where it was. It was too painful. Alethia pulled out her dragonglass dagger, putting the blade against her wrist.

 

 

“You promised me to stay alive.” A cool voice said behind her.

 

 

Shireen.

 

 

With a sigh, Alethia let the dagger sink. She turned around, not wanting to face Shireen’s disappointment. Shireen hugged her instead, holding Alethia as she started crying.

 

 

“I’m so sorry Alethia. You didn’t deserve this, you of all people.”

 

 

“Wylla is dead because of me.” Alethia confessed. “Maybe- “

 

 

“No. Alethia, Wylla wanted to fight for her home, it was her choice. Whatever you’re thinking right now, it wasn’t your fault, and you didn’t deserve everything that happened to you.”

 

 

Shireen wiped Alethia’s face dry, gracefully ignoring her snot. They sat in silence as Shireen coaxed Alethia to eat.

 

 

Shireen stayed as night fell again. Alethia could hear a feast going on in the Great Hall and yet, Shireen took care of Alethia. She could see the exhaustion in the heir’s eyes, but Shireen seemed determined not to let her alone.

 

 

At some point, Alethia’s exhaustion took over and she let herself fall asleep, knowing that Shireen would be there when she woke up.

 

 

Her last thought was of Jon. Alethia’s heart clenched when she thought about him. She thought she’d known pain, but this was different. It was so much worse.

 

 

“I’m sorry Jon.” She thought, “I’m sorry it was you and not me.”

 

Notes:

I am so, so, sorry (but what is Game of Thrones without moments like these)

my friend, who is reading this fic already knew what would happen and when I told her that Wylla was going to die she was ready to choke me. She's so done with me killing people, so you guys aren't alone in that sentiment. Still, I wanted Jon to have the Azor Ahai arc (ish)

Before you throw your laptop and this fic into the trash, the next few chapters will be heavy angst but after that, I'll very slowly begin developing Sansa's and Alethia's relationship. It broke my heart to leave Jon behind, but I couldn't really envision a good ending for GoT with him as KitN

Please don't stop reading this fic I'm begging you :/

Chapter 63: Part VI: And then, there were two

Part VI: And then, there were two

Chapters: 64-77

Summary: The one thing that Alethia thought would never happen has come to pass. Jon is dead, and with him, the last bit of happiness Alethia had left over. With no purpose, no real family and no one to call home, she knows it's only a matter of time before the cracks become too numerous. The amount of people whose deaths weigh her down is too much. Alethia needs, no, wants something that could make her forget.

 

Cast

   

Jeanne Goursaud in Barbarians as even older and scarred Alethia

Age: 19

“I am tired of fighting. Ever since I came here, I’ve been fighting. First against the Free Folk, then against the Dead, and now, against the Lannisters. I won’t do it anymore. I don’t think I’d be able to if I wanted to.”

 

Ania Bukstein as Kinvara

Age: could literally be a millenia

"I was wondering when we would meet, Lady Stark."

 

Adrian Kali Turner as Brayden Collins

Age: 8

“I’ve seen you before.”

Chapter 64: Longer Days

Summary:

It’s all doom and gloom, but is that some gay hand holding I see in the distance? Maybe I can write happy things too…

The next day came, even if Alethia willed the sun to never rise.

 

 

When she opened her eyes, a shadow in the corner of her room made her jolt awake. She breathed a sigh of relief as she realized it was Varys.

 

“What do you want?” she asked, wary and tired. Alethia felt exhausted, like she had been stripped to the bones and then someone had sucked the marrow out of them. Yet, beneath all the hollowness, anger and rage were already simmering, ready to break free from her skin.

 

 

“We need to talk about the queen. And her heir.”

 

 

At the mention of Shireen, Alethia managed to crawl out of bed and face Varys properly. She ignored the state she was in, matted tangles of hair and blood under her nails.

 

 

“Get it over with.” Alethia sighed.

 

 

“The queen is becoming more ruthless. She suffered a great defeat in the Long Night and has been burning more of her enemies. I fear she is becoming her father.”

 

 

“That’s bullshit. I’m not helping you kill her. You can slip the poison in her wine, and I’ll see Shireen crowned but I won’t be part of another plot.”

 

 

Varys tutted, but he seemed to wait for Alethia to speak. She did, even if it was only to make him leave her alone. “Daenerys is beginning to doubt that her fate, her destiny lies in Westeros. We must make her believe it and she’ll leave for the kingdom she left behind.”

 

 

Alethia paused, wanting Varys to fear her, truly. To make him run as the spider ran from the snake she’d become. “I cannot help but wonder,” Alethia began, picking up her dragonglass dagger “why you want to dethrone the girl you already wanted to crown when Robert Baratheon was still alive.” She finished, holding the dagger to Varys’ throat.

 

 

The man shivered slightly, but Alethia knew it was likely just for show.

 

 

“The next time you come into my room without invitation, I will gut you and feed your entrails to my husband’s direwolf.” She threatened, before pushing Varys out of her room.

 

 

Alethia threw the dagger from her, listening to it clatter on the cold stone floor, before sinking onto the bed in apathy.

 

After a while, Sansa came in. Her hair was in a simple braid down her back and her black dress and undereyes spoke from exhaustion and grief. Alethia felt guilty for forgetting that she hadn’t lost Jon alone. Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon had lost their brother. Tormund, Edd and Satin had lost their friend.

 

 

She let Sansa help her bathe, let her redress her wounds. The silence was medicine for her mind.

 

 

“How’s Arya?” Alethia asked quietly

 

 

“Gendry is helping her.” Sansa replied, combing through Alethia’s hair. Slowly, it turned from matted brown back to dark blonde while the water turned red.

 

 

“What about Bran and Rickon?”

 

 

“Meera and Shireen. And Rickon is helping Shireen to grieve over Wylla.”

 

 

Alethia turned to face Sansa, drawing her knees to her chest, suddenly overly conscious of the scars that littered her body.

 

 

“And what about you?”

 

 

“I- I’ve gotten used to it; I suppose.” Sansa said, turning away. Alethia grabbed a towel and dried herself, before slipping into an underdress.

 

 

“We both know that’s not true. We never get used to losing the people we love.” Alethia said. “I wanted to apologize. For treating you so roughly when you told me,” she paused, “When you told me he died.”

 

 

Sansa sighed, already beginning to weave intricate patterns into Alethia’s hair. “It’s alright.”

 

 

“No it’s not. I never considered your feelings in all of this for one second.”

 

 

Sansa paused, but then shook her head. “I forgive you, Alethia. Consider it a debt already paid.”

 

 

When she saw Sansa pick up a bronze circlet and place it on her head, before resuming to weave it, Alethia wanted to raise a hand to touch it. Promptly, Sansa slapped her hand away.

 

“Don’t touch it until I’m done.”

 

 

Alethia had to smile. “Why the circlet?” she asked. Sansa walked to stand in front of her, a look of worry on her face.

 

“You are the wife of the late King in the North. Some people expect me to represent the North, but some expect you. We have to work something out, but until then, we have to appear as one, alright?” she told her.

 

 

“Oh.” Was all that Alethia could reply.

 

 

“Yes, oh indeed.” Sansa snarked back, handing Alethia a black and green dress. Even though the stitches were perfect, Alethia knew that Sansa had added the green details last minute. In the South, appearance played a big role.

 

 

Sansa helped Alethia get dressed before handing her a mirror. While Alethia looked at her reflection, Sansa opened her braid and let her red hair fall down her back.

 

 

Alethia’s updo was absolutely gorgeous, braids holding the bronze circlet in place, even hiding it a little.

 

 

“I’ve never seen this hairstyle before.” She said to Sansa.

 

 

The woman shrugged. “There’s no one quite like you, so I needed to find something new for you. A lot of married women in Westeros wear their hair up, but I thought this might be more fitting for a warrior.”

 

 

The style was indeed fitting for a warrior. No hair fell into Alethia’s face, but the weaved braids made her feel strong, stronger than she’d expected to feel. Still, when Alethia looked into the mirror she didn’t recognize herself.

 

 

Gone was the young girl from Earth. Gone was the desperate woman that woke up, plagued by nightmares filled with blue and ice, running up and down the Wall to distract herself. Gone was the happy woman that had finally begun to heal.

 

In the mirror, Alethia only saw another stranger. The woman staring back had familiar features. Foreign piercings that were somehow still intact, the high forehead, prominent cheekbones and a pink scar running across her eye and cheek, blond hair, and green eyes, under which permanent shadows lied.

 

 

There was a new scar, only beginning to heal that tugged on the other side of her lip and twisted her smile even further. The scar that had been made by shards of sharp ice. A deep cut ran from Alethia’s neck over her collarbone and disappeared under the dress. And then, to her horror, Alethia saw the signs of age already making a home on her face. She let the mirror sink because Alethia couldn’t take the thought of seeing herself cry.

 

 

“I look so old.” She sighed. Tears were in her eyes, but she did not let them spill. Sansa walked across the room and gently traced the scar that ran over her cheek.

 

“Your face tells your story, and that is only admirable.” Sansa corrected. Slender fingers ghosted Alethia’s cuts as they checked for something new. When Sansa let her hands sink, Alethia caught one of them with hers.

 

 

“Thank you.” Alethia whispered. She could feel the softness of Sansa’s hands, a stark contrast to hers, that had become calloused and rough. So unlike what they’d once been.

 

 

Sansa gave Alethia’s hand a light squeeze.

 

 

***

 

 

The lords in the Great Hall chattered loudly, fighting, talking over each other. Those loyal to Daenerys and Cersei had already left, returning to be at war with each other. Stormlanders, Riverlanders, Northmen and the Free Folk remained.

 

 

Alethia saw Shireen and Lyanna stand off to the side, still near to the dais. They looked haunted without Wylla, who always reminded them that they were still children. Arya stood in front of the dais, Gendry close to her and Nymeria at her feet. Brienne took her position to guard Sansa, nodding to Jaime, who had remained in the North. Edd, Tormund, Satin and other men of the Watch and Free Folk sat at a table, talking with the Blackfish and a few Riverlanders.

 

 

When Satin caught sight of Alethia, he nodded his head. Slowly, people began to notice Sansa and Alethia, who had taken their seats at the dais.

 

 

“My lords, my ladies,” Sansa began, “in the Long Night, we suffered many losses. All of us are grieving right now, but we cannot forget about Winter. Winter is here, and the North is less than prepared. The last battle has left many castles and strongholds unoccupied, but we must fill them. While the Wall remains somewhat intact, the reasons the Watch existed have all disappeared.

We, who have been lucky to be left behind must band together to survive this winter. The Free Folk, who have aided the North in the fight for their home, will be rewarded with the Gift. Come spring, they can begin to farm the land. The strongholds left empty by the lack of heirs, such as that of House Glover, will be given to loyal lords and ladies. The Dreadfort however, will be burned to the ground. On it, the North will build a Citadel for all those that wish to use it, not only Maesters.”

 

 

Murmurs went around the hall, but Sansa ignored them. “In a time where people are so sparse, I must ask a thing from all of you that might go against your traditions. Do not name your sons heirs, name your most capable child the heir of your house, for it might save your line and your people.”

 

 

Surprisingly, many lords nodded in agreement. Alethia felt herself growing more comfortable as the rulings went on. Finally, Sansa seemed to come to an end.

 

 

“There is one more thing.” Sansa said, “In all this darkness, there must be hope we can look to. And therefore, I wish to announce that my brother Bran and Meera, heir to House Reed, will soon get married. They wish to make the neck a hearth and home for all greenseers and wights and others with special gifts.”

 

 

A cheer went up in the hall and Alethia clapped too, though for her, the announcement was bittersweet. She begged quietly, hoping that their happiness would last for many years as congratulations were given to a blushing Meera and a slightly confused, but happy Bran.

Notes:

Alethia’s (nice) hair: https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/vikings/images/7/70/Lagertha.png/revision/latest?cb=20170307234001&path-prefix=pt-br

Guys, I’m sincerely sorry for killing Jon. It broke my heart for Alethia, but we’ll persevere. There’s one more thing in this fic happening that will make you guys hate me so much, but I promise you, no undeserved deaths are coming anymore.

Chapter 65: Too many fucks were given

Summary:

The army of Daenerys begins to move South to attack King’s Landing, more revelations are made.

“I’m coming to King’s Landing with you.” Sansa said. Alethia paused, looking up from her porridge. It had been three weeks since the battle of Winterfell, and slowly, people began to get back on her feet. This meant that Dany insisted on riding South.

 

 

“Why?” she asked. Alethia wouldn’t stop Sansa from coming if she wanted to, but she genuinely couldn’t understand why Sansa would want to come.

 

 

“Arya has her kill list. I’ve got a debt with Cersei too.” Sansa said curtly, “You taught me how to fight, and while I don’t plan on being in battle, I need to be there, to make sure that everything what will happen there will help the North.”

 

 

“I won’t stop you, it’s your decision.” Alethia replied simply, before resuming to eat.

 

 

***

 

And so, Alethia saw Sansa get on her horse to ride for King’s Landing while she saddled her own. Shireen was coming with them, together with a few other Northern Lords.

 

 

To rule, a council of trusted people had been left in charge, Bran being their head. Even though the young man was uncomfortable with ruling, a Stark was necessary to keep everything under control.

 

 

They were riding for White Harbor again, and Alethia was unsure how she was going to face Lord Manderly. Shireen, who was also wearing black mourning colors had burdened herself with returning her friend’s bones to their final resting place.

 

 

Though their caravan was large, even the few surviving Dothraki were quiet, a blanket of grief still silencing all of them. Everyone had lost someone in the Long Night, people had been decimated by the thousands, rulers had died, and children scarred for life.

 

But Winter was only ahead of them.

 

 

***

 

 

The gates of White Harbor were open, and the family of Lord Manderly stood there to greet them, dressed completely in black. A raven had carried word of their youngest member’s demise ahead, but none of them cried.

 

Silence was worse than tears though. Quietly, Shireen slid off her horse, grabbing the chest with Wylla’s bones firmly. Wylla’s mother Leona rushed forward suddenly, taking the chest with shaking hands.

 

 

Ser Wylis got off his horse too, unable to look his wife into the eyes, carefully taking her into his arms instead. They disappeared into the city.

 

 

“You are welcome in White Harbor, Lady Sansa. And you, Lady Alethia. Thank you for protecting my granddaughter to the best of your abilities.” Lord Wyman said. Then, he looked to Daenerys.

 

 

“You and your forces are welcome to eat and drink in our hall, your Grace.”

 

 

***

 

 

While Daenerys’ forces sated their hunger in the Great Hall of White Harbor, Shireen, Alethia, Sansa, Arya, Tormund and a few others found themselves in the Sept.

 

 

There was no body to be buried, but the Septon led his prayers to help Wylla find her way in the afterlife. Alethia wasn’t very religious, but she tried her best to pray as it was asked of her.

 

 

Thankfully, the Septon made no mention of the Seven hells. Alethia didn’t know if she would’ve been able to control herself in that case.

 

 

***

 

 

Alethia sank down on her bed as she felt the insistent burn in her chest. She’d had it for days now, together with a constant nausea. Carefully, she flipped through the pages of her worn notebook to look for symptoms.

 

 

Then, she realized what it was without even looking in the notebook. Promptly, Alethia threw the notebook across the room and began pacing.

 

 

Fuck, okay. It’s not what you think. Right? Alethia thought, beginning to count with her fingers, okay, last period was 35 days ago. Which is shit, but I always took the fucking moontea.

 

 

Alethia clapped her hand over her mouth. Shit. Shit I fucking forgot to take it after the wedding and the battle.

 

A rational part of Alethia told her to calm down. Nope, I had sex after taking the moontea the last time.

 

 

Alethia felt tears burn in her eyes. Of course, this was happening to her. Hastily, she ran out of her room and into the castle’s infirmary, slipping a few herbs into her pockets before sprinting back up the stairs.

 

With shaking hands, she began mixing the herbs together, thoughts running wild.

 

 

Oh fucking shit. This going to hurt like hell. Maybe I could just… stay pregnant. What if I’m not pregnant? Alethia thought.

 

 

Nu-uh, you ain’t giving birth. That’s some fucking teen mom shit you’re on.

 

 

Alethia was so preoccupied that she didn’t notice the door opening.

 

 

“What are you doing?” Sansa asked. Alethia snapped her head up so quickly she thought it was going to give her whiplash.

 

 

“Nothing. Just preparing some stuff.” She lied. Sansa narrowed her eyes, staring at the herbs before her eyes widened.

 

 

Sansa dashed across the room, taking the herbs from Alethia. “You’re not taking this choice from me.” Alethia said calmly, trying to get the herbs back.

 

 

Sansa crouched down in front of Alethia, carefully cupping her face.

 

 

“You don’t have a choice, Al.” she sighed. The nickname stung Alethia deep. “If you really are pregnant, then this child is the only heir to the North. I won’t have any children, you know it. You are having this child, no matter how painful.”

 

 

Alethia hadn’t seen this side of Sansa before, and it scared her. She thought Sansa was her friend, but the way she was acting was making Alethia think that she was just another puppet to her.

 

 

“You can’t make me have this child, Sansa.” Alethia said. “Jon never would’ve forced me.”

 

 

“Jon’s dead.” Sansa replied. “This child is the key to the North.””

 

 

Alethia shook her head. “No. If you make me have this child, it won’t be a puppet for your politics.”

 

 

“You still owe me.” Sansa said. “For letting me go to King’s Landing. You could’ve prevented my marriage to Ramsay. But you didn’t.”

 

 

And now, Alethia had no choice but pay that debt. “Fine.” She said. “I won’t take the herbs. But if you try to raise this child your way, you can be sure I’ll take this kingdom and raise an army against you.” Alethia warned.

 

 

Sansa did not say anything in return but left the room. Alethia was left alone, forced to deal with the consequences of her own doing.

 

 

***

 

 

After that night, Sansa and Alethia kept their distance. Alethia knew that Sansa meant to take care of her people. But she couldn’t help feel betrayed and blackmailed by someone she thought was her friend.

 

 

It didn’t matter. As the air on the ship got warmer and Alethia began to ride towards King’s Landing with Dany and Shireen, she tried to forgive Sansa. Instead, she threw herself into work, trying to forget that Jon was dead.

 

 

She felt the anger that was burning under her skin, ready to break free at any moment. Alethia reveled in the knowledge that soon, she would fight again.

 

 

After this battle, Alethia knew that she would not be able to fight anymore. But for one last time, her anger would fuel her and Alethia would take the Seven Kingdoms from Cersei and give it to someone who would rule them and bring them into the future.

 

 

Somehow, all of Danys’ forces had made it through the voyage, avoiding run-ins with the Iron fleet.

 

 

Though they weren’t great in number anymore, they rallied behind Alethia, Shireen and Daenerys as they approached one of the many gates of King’s Landing, barred before them. Lannister soldiers manned the ramparts, bows at the ready.

 

 

Cersei stared at Sansa as Daenerys laid out her terms and despite their disagreement, Alethia felt the grip on her sword tighten.

 

 

“You can try to take this city.” Cersei sneered, “But you won’t. Not if you want to be a merciful queen.”

 

Daenerys rode back, anger apparent in her features as she belted out commands to have a camp set up.

 

 

Alethia watched her for a while, before gently stopping the girl. “The siege won’t help you win King’s Landing. She’ll eat all they’ve got while the peasants starve. It’ll only make them hate you.” Alethia explained.

 

 

“They probably already do.” Daenerys mumbled. Missandei rushed into the tent, Shireen and Sansa in tow, ready to transcribe their meeting.

 

 

“Cersei is smart,” Alethia began, “and she won’t let you win through a siege, especially if she can get the Iron fleet to supply her. If we want to win, we have to lure her out. Through a wile or something in that direction.”

 

 

“She burnt the Sept. Do you think she created a passageway into the city like that?” Shireen suggested.

 

 

“It’s highly unlikely. We could ask Varys, I’m sure he knows a tunnel for the Red Keep.” Sansa spoke up.

 

 

A plan began to form in Alethia’s mind. “That could actually work. We could have footsoldiers sneak into King’s Landing on foot while Queen Daenerys and Shireen lead an assault on the keep by air. It would keep Lannister soldiers occupied. But you’d both have to be very careful.”

 

 

 

“We will be. We can have our armor fixed and ready the dragons.” Shireen promised.

 

 

Daenerys seemed unsure of the plan, Alethia could see that.

 

 

“If we pretend to lead an assault on the walls, most people will either hide or fight. Only those that are most loyal to Cersei will remain in the Red Keep. We don’t have to breach the walls, or even burn the keep. We only have to keep the ruse up long enough for our men to take the city quietly.”

 

 

“Fine.” Daenerys agreed. “And where will you be, Lady Alethia?”

 

 

Alethia gave her a cold smile. “I’ll be leading your forces into King’s Landing, your Grace. If there’s a battle to fight, I want to have a front row seat.”

 

 

She watched as the others trickled out of the tent before leaving herself. This battle, Alethia would fight without Jon or Tormund or any of them. She let her fingers brush across the now-worn grip of Lucifer. Cruel thoughts and anger twisted her guts and clouded her thoughts as Alethia let herself disappear in the sprawling camp, walking past Dothraki and Dornishmen.

 

I am who I am. I won't let the anger consume me, I will make it my weapon and they'll face my fucking wrath.

Notes:

yep, you guessed correctly @Darkangel, while I don’t like reading the whole pregnancy trope, I’ll have a different take on it in my fic, which basically means that it will be a subplot, but NOT a main motivation for Alethia. I judt don't think she's that kind of person + the last few events have definitely changed her again and I'm not sure if it's for the better myself...

Chapter 66: Checking off the 5 stages of grief better than my to-do list

Summary:

King’s Landing is taken, but in the victory, Alethia begins to lose herself. Cersei finally faces justice.

Notes:

tw: graphic descriptions of violence

Ash pelted down on Alethia’s face as she felt the sun beat down on her armor. She looked up, searching the sky for the dragons. There, in the distance, Shireen circled the Red Keep, letting Rhaegal spew fire ever so often.

 

 

The cause of the ash that was raining down on her wasn’t the dragons. When Alethia looked around, she saw smoke rising from what had to be a fire in the Street of Steel. A Lannister soldier ran towards Alethia and she parried his blow, before driving her sword into his hastily, and faultily, fastened armor, ripping open his neck.

 

 

Already, Alethia felt tiredness creeping in, but her anger drove her forward, towards the fire. Alethia may have felt furious at the world, but she wasn’t heartless.

 

 

Those that got into her way died, mostly because they were heavily outnumbered, unprepared and confused.

 

 

At the turn of the street, Alethia glanced both ways before diving forward. Suddenly, a towering man stood in front of her. His helmet had been abandoned and Alethia was forced to stare right at the horrid face of Ser Gregor Clegane. The mountain.

 

 

Her blood went cold. She tried to recall what techniques Oberyn Martell had used to fight him, but this was different. Suddenly, the Mountain swung his huge sword, attempting to bring it down on Alethia.

 

 

She held up her sword, sidestepping, but even as it barely touched that of the Mountain’s, Alethia felt the impact go up her arm and rattle her bones. With a grunt, Alethia ran past him, forcing him to cumbersomely turn around.

 

 

Alethia stood sideways, attempting to make for a smaller target, trying to stay light on her feet. Then, she ran forward and slid past the Mountain, slicing at the back of his knees. In return, he wacked her back with the flat of his sword.

 

 

He was toying with her! Alethia felt her anger begin to boil over as she sheathed her sword and stood in front of him. Then, she sprinted towards him and jumped. She got ahold of his shoulder and pulled herself up, climbing him like a tree.

 

 

Quickly, Alethia took out her dagger in an attempt to stab his neck as she sat on his shoulders. Aggravated, the Mountain grabbed her and threw her off.

 

 

Alethia managed to roll over the ground to lighten the impact, but as her legs hit a pillar, she still groaned in pain. Her returned mortality made itself known in the back of her head as the huge knight stomped towards her.

 

 

“You’ve gotten even uglier, cunt.” She suddenly heard Sandor say behind him. Abruptly, the man turned around, leaving Alethia to pull herself up. She knew what it was like to want revenge and she hadn’t meant to take it from Sandor, so when he began to fight his brother, Alethia stumbled forward to get back to her original mission.

 

 

Soon, she found the source of the fire. It was too big to put out, so she looked around. From the other end of the street, a few Stormlanders began running in her direction. The civilians began to cower away from them, almost walking into the fire.

 

 

Alethia ran towards them, but as she heard the terrified cries of a young boy, she realized what she had to look like, dagger in hand and face smeared with dirt and blood.

 

 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Alethia promised. She waved the Stormlanders over. “Get these people out of the city and into safety. Away from the fire.”

 

 

One of them nodded and Alethia jogged on. She began carving a path for them, killing soldiers. Eventually, Alethia began to lose track. At some point, she passed Arya, who was pulling another young boy with her.

 

 

She realized that she wasn’t really needed anymore, so when Alethia saw an abandoned wineskin, she sat down in an alcove and began drinking. When the bells were sounded as a sign of surrender, she dragged herself up to the Dragonpit, where Drogon had landed.

 

 

Alethia didn’t listen as Daenerys proclaimed her victory. She didn’t say anything when the Stark sisters noticed that Cersei was missing. She didn’t respond when Shireen asked her if she needed help. When their meeting was done, Alethia left.

 

 

Alone, she walked back to the camp and sat down in one of the outskirts of the Northern part.

 

 

Soldiers talked about Cersei being captured and brought to the prisoners’ tent, but Alethia had no real vendetta with her, so she kept walking.

 

 

She poured the leftover wine on one of her wounds, barely registering the pain. Slowly, Alethia began cleaning her face with water and took off her armor. A man leaned against a tentpole near her, staring before beginning to speak.

 

 

“You look like you’re in dire need of a good fuck.” He said.

 

 

Normally, Alethia would’ve told him to fuck off, but now, she looked at him, considering his offer. His lack of sigils told her he was probably a sellsword. He had typical Northern features, the long face and brown hair distantly reminding her of Jon, but he was much older, maybe in his late-twenties.

 

 

Alethia was tired of the numbness and anger. She wanted to feel something else. “Maybe I do.” She replied, continuing to clean a nasty cut on her arm.

 

 

“What’s your name?” she asked.

 

 

“Bannen,” he said. After a pause he added, “Snow.”

 

 

“I don’t care much for that.” Alethia lied. The surname hurt.

 

 

“What’s yours?” Bannen asked, sitting down next to her.

 

 

“Jeyne. Just Jeyne.”

 

 

“You’re not from the North.” Bannen said. “Where’d you learn to fight?”

 

 

“The Brotherhood without Banners took me in. I showed a talent for the sword.” Alethia shrugged. The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a while. Then, Bannen stood up.

 

 

“You coming?” he asked, motioning to his tent. Alethia resisted the urge to make a pun and followed.

 

 

***

 

 

Bannen had gotten drunk and fallen asleep soon after they were done. Alethia didn’t blame him. Distantly, she felt guilt begin to eat away at her as she cleaned herself up. It hadn’t been a terrible experience, but that only made it more complicated.

 

 

Still, at that moment, Alethia felt no remorse. She picked up her things and left the tent. It was dark outside as Alethia trudged back, her armor slung over her shoulder.

 

As she got towards the center of the camp, she noticed her anger had dissipated and made room for numbness. No one bothered her as she crawled into her tent and fell asleep.

 

 

***

 

 

The next morning, Alethia woke up to a great disarray in the camp. She trudged out of her tent and through the masses to find out what was wrong. Soon, she got a feeling for what it could be.

 

 

They were all gathered in front of a prisoners tent. Cersei’s tent. Soldiers parted as Alethia strode past them, the first of the commanders to arrive.

 

 

Inside, she found a servant, still frozen in shock and the corpse of Cersei Lannister.

 

 

“I didn’t do it.” The servant exclaimed, her hands shaking.

 

 

“I know.” Alethia replied. “You can leave.”

 

 

As she crouched down before the She-Lion, Alethia could see no apparent blood on her black attire. Then, her eyes fell to the purplish marks on her neck.

 

 

Of course, all the fucking prophecies always came true in this shithole.

 

 

Alethia turned around, leaving the tent. “Make sure no one goes in or out.” She belted at two of the soldiers, who nodded and assumed their positions.

 

 

She strode through the camp, boldly ignoring some minor lord that wanted to talk to her. Jaime was just outside the camp, sitting by a stream. He was drinking from a wine skin.

 

 

Alethia took it from him.

 

 

“You killed her.” She said coldly, emptying the wine into the grass.

 

 

“I didn’t mean to.” Jaime said hollowly. It had obviously affected him, or he wouldn’t be acting like that.

 

 

“Why?”

 

 

“I wanted to know why she did what she did and I-“ Jaime stopped, unsure of what to say.

 

 

“You lost it.” Alethia finished. He nodded. She sat down next to him, listening to the sounds of the stream for a while.

 

 

“Everything that happened to me is kind of your family’s fault, did you know that?” she said. Jaime raised an eyebrow.

 

 

“Oh?”

 

 

“Your brother was too busy getting his dick wet to escort me to the feast and your sister was so in love with you that she threatened to have me killed and then indirectly sent me to the Wall.”

 

 

Alethia stared at the stream again, as if it would miraculously solve all her problems. “Sorry, that was not the point. I wanted to tell you to go to Brienne. Explain everything to her. She’ll understand.”

 

 

Then, she left again, unable to have another conversation about love. It was honestly exhausting.

 

 

***

 

 

Alethia dragged another box up into the Red Keep. Her body burned, arms shaking from a lack of sleep and strain, but she ignored it. The entire day, Alethia tried to avoid Daenerys and Shireen as well as Sansa.

 

 

Civilians seemed to still be scared of her, but they reluctantly let her and other soldiers help them. After a while, they began tearing down the red-and-gold banners themselves, not quite ready to replace them with black and red yet.

 

 

Alethia passed Arya a few times, who was helping Gendry clean out the remains of the Steel of Street. She nodded to Alethia, but her own tiredness mirrored Alethia’s.

 

 

Arya tried to hide it, but she was worried for Sandor. He’d been gravely injured fighting his brother, and would lose at least one eye. It wasn’t clear yet if he would make it.

 

 

The sellswords were already leaving and Alethia was glad for it. She didn’t need to get into another complicated situation that involved Bannen and Sansa as well as her own child.

 

 

Her child.

 

 

It was still surreal for Alethia, but not in a good way. Perhaps the thought of having a child in this world scared her more than anything, more than the White Walkers and losing what was left of her friends.

 

 

Sometimes, Alethia would let her hand wander over her stomach, praying that it would stay flat and her period hadn’t come for another reason.

 

 

She was shoveling some dirt away when a familiar voice said her name. When Alethia turned around, she couldn’t help but smile.

 

 

“Sam!” she exclaimed, hugging her friend tightly. He looked good, not as pale as at Castle Black and somehow happier. Well, that wasn’t very hard.

 

 

Still, his eyebrows creased in worry as he looked at Alethia. “Are you okay? You only work like this when something is wrong.”

 

 

“You know right?” Alethia asked cautiously.

 

 

“Yeah. Jon’s dead.” Sam said, some of the happiness on his face instantly disappearing.

 

 

Alethia slipped out of the busy street and into the ruin of an inn, where she and Sam would have some privacy. As soon as they were alone, she told him everything.

 

 

“We got married the night before he died. It was so nice and I was the happiest person in the world, but then of course, the fucking Night King kills him. Everyone keeps telling me that Jon was a hero but I don’t give a damn about that. He shouldn’t have been there, and try to kill him.” Alethia buried her head in her hands.

 

 

Sam was quiet, listening to her like he’d always done. Alethia sat back up a little straighter. “It was supposed to be me. I got the immortality, I should’ve ended this all with the Night King.”

 

 

“It’s not your fault, Al.” Sam replied calmly.

 

 

Alethia gave a humorless laugh. “That’s not even the worst part.”

 

 

She let all the emotion leave her voice, unable to tell him in any other way. “I’m pregnant. I wanted to get rid of it, but Sansa is making me keep it. I owe her.”

 

 

And Sam, sweet and kind Sam, suddenly looked very angry. One of his hands clenched into a fist for a moment.

 

 

“You don’t owe her anything, Al. This is your choice. She shouldn’t take it from you.”

 

 

“Thank you Sam.” She said. But you don’t understand. You don’t know I let her run into the trap the Boltons set her.

 

 

They sat in silence for a while, watching soldiers rebuild King’s Landing. At some point, a young boy approached.

 

 

“Queen Daenerys commands your presence in the Red Keep, your Grace.” He said hurriedly, before disappearing.

 

 

Alethia stood up, gathering her things. “Did he just call you ‘your Grace’?” Sam asked.

 

 

“Quite the step-up from a steward, don’t you think?” Alethia attempted to joke, but it sounded angry and hollow.

 

The two of them trudged up Aegon’s Hill, leaving most of the destruction behind them as houses got bigger and streets wider. The Red Keep had remained almost untouched, only one side being burnt. As they approached, another servant led them inside, into the throne room.

 

 

There, Daenerys sat on the Iron Throne. It was impressive, but to Alethia, it only represented a bad system and oppression.

 

 

Sansa stood on one of the balconies, her expression extremely angry as she stared at Dany. Arya was next to her, arms crossed and an angry scowl on her face that reminded Alethia of easier times briefly.

 

 

A herald suddenly said her name, and Alethia almost turned around until she realized he was rattling through her ‘titles’.

 

 

“Alethia of the Houses Stahl and Stark, Woman of the Watch, the gray Raven, former First Ranger, former protector of her Grace, Shireen Baratheon and Queen Dowager of the North.”

 

 

Two thoughts came to Alethia’s mind. First of all, oh this is why she wants me here and then Jesus, I feel old.

 

 

“You stand here, because it is time for the North to bend the knee to my power.” Daenerys began, “Do you swear fealty to me in perpetuity, Queen Alethia?”

 

 

Alethia was almost tempted to agree, if only to spite Sansa, but if she was honest, she did not hate her that much. She could understand Sansa’s motivations.  “I cannot swear fealty to you because I am not the Queen in the North. Only a Stark can be the true ruler of the North.”

 

 

“And even if I had that power, I would not do it. We had an agreement, that you would help us against the army of the Dead, and in return, we would fight the Lannisters for you. We both did our parts in equal measures. The North does not owe you anything. Of course, you could always invade our kingdom, but is that really what you want?”

 

 

She paused, glancing up at Sansa. The other woman nodded slightly.

 

 

Daenerys grimaced. “Then there is two ways that this can go. Either, I burn Winterfell and the entire North to the ground with my dragons and erase the lineage of House Stark.”

 

 

“Or?” Alethia asked, knowing full well that the first option wasn’t a real option. Shireen would never agree.

 

 

“Or you become my commander and help me take the Westerlands and the Iron Islands. In return, I will let the North be an independent Kingdom and it will only join the Seven Kingdoms through marriage, as it is with Dorne.”

 

 

“No.” Alethia blurted out.

 

 

“No?” Daenerys asked incredulously. Sansa looked confused too, but there was a certain glee in Varys’ eyes.

 

 

Alethia took off her weapons belt and held the scabbard and sword out, and immediately, guards readied their spears. Daenerys stopped them with a hand.

 

 

Alethia scoffed, holding the sword out. “I want her Grace, Shireen Baratheon to have my sword, Lucifer.”

 

 

Shireen seemed shocked, but she walked towards Alethia, taking the sword from her and resuming her place next to the throne.

 

 

“I am tired of fighting.” Alethia explained. “Ever since I came here, I’ve been fighting. First against the Free Folk, then against the Dead, and now, against the Lannisters. I won’t do it anymore. I don’t think I’d be able to if I wanted to.”

 

 

She paused, searching for the right words. “I swear, in the presence of all you witnesses, that I won’t pick up a sword again and fight in battle. Unless the threat of the Dead arises again, I will not fight for anyone’s political agenda, nor slay a human being unless they threaten to kill me or those that I love. I swear to fight no more in the presence of people and gods.”

 

 

Then, unable to take the stares and whispers, Alethia turned on her heel and left the Throne Room.

 

 

She was done.

Notes:

Hey guys, as you may have noticed, our time with Alethia is (very) slowly coming to an end. There will be at least 8 more chapters where things begin to look up again and I conclude the story, mostly because Alethia has become a pretty big part of my life and I want her to have a happy ending. After I finish WotW, I might add some snippets here and there, so if you want to read those, make sure to subscribe to the series ;)

 

Okay, now to what I actually wanted to say. This is my first longfic and I really want your feedback. Even if you usually don’t comment on my fics, please take some time to answer these questions (ESP. Q 1-5!!! 1 is super important!!!!!!)

 

1. Did you actually stick this far? (just say yes so ik this isn’t molding away in someones bookmarks)
2. What did you love most about this fic so far? (e.g. a character, canon divergence,…)
3. What did you hate most about this fic? (a death, bad writing at some point, excessive plot armor,…)
4. Did this fic impact your life in any way? (made you laugh, made you a lil sad, made you have another GoT phase?)
5. Did you notice my writing improving?
6. What would be something that you would change if you could?
7. What is something you want to slap me for?
8. What is something you want to hug me for?
9. Fav character? Was there a change to the original fiction bc of how I wrote them?
10. Who is your faceclaim for Alethia? (for me it’s a mix of Gaia Weiss in Vikings and Benedetta Porcaroli in Baby)
11. Do you think my alternate ending for GoT is better than the original so far?
12. Have you recommended this fic to anyone?

 

Not that important questions:
13. Do you want moodboards?
14. Would you buy a novel by me if I were to write one?
15. Are there any songs that you connect with this fic/a character/…
16. Crack!ship for this fic?
17. Any comfort chapters/lines/characters?
18. Would you reread this fic?
19. Has anything major happened in your life in the time you’ve been reading this fic?
20. Say anything you wanna blurt out! Tell me a theory/opinion/just anything! Or ask me a question!

Chapter 67: Bury your dreams

Summary:

The lords and ladies of Westeros choose a new ruler. Daenerys makes a choice.

Notes:

okay guys, I'll be going on a little writing hiatus over the winter holidays. I still have about two more chapters written for WotW but after that, there *might* be a small pause since I want to focus on writing a novel (hopefully)

“You don’t make a very splendid figure on the Iron Throne.” Alethia told Dany. The Targaryen had invited her to talk in her chambers, about the next steps for Westeros, despite Alethia’s wishes to not be involved in any new military campaigns.

 

To her surprise, Dany agreed. “I know.” She sighed. “This place, Westeros, it isn’t for me. People still don’t want me here, but I don’t know what I should do or where I should go.”

 

 

Alethia’s eyes fell on Aemon’s letter. She pulled a chair back and sat down across from Daenerys.

 

 

“I’m not as old as Maester Aemon or Ser Barristan but let me give you some advice.” She said, taking out Aemon’s dagger.

 

 

“Wherever Targaryens go, they do great things. Even at Castle Black, Maester Aemon made an impact, changed things. You come from a line of conquerors, but also geniuses and madmen. Your goal to break the wheel is admirable, but the people here think that they are lucky to be free. Elsewhere, they see you as their Mhysa.”

 

 

Daenerys looked up, realization beginning to dawn on her face.

 

 

“We both know Daario Naharis won’t rule the Bay of Dragons forever. Take Drogon and Viserion and go back. Conquer the slave cities that are still involved in the trade, free those people and choose a good heir. And when you’re old, go back to the house with the red door and the lemon tree. You deserve it.”

 

 

“You are an infuriating person.” Dany replied. “But I understand what you mean. I do not understand the rules of Westerosi court very well. I belong into the East, where people love me and admire me, but I cannot back down now and abandon a kingdom that I just conquered.”

 

 

Twirling Aemon’s dagger, Alethia stood up. “Who said you’d be abandoning it? Last time I checked, you installed a very competent heir. And good advisors.”

 

 

She handed Daenerys the dagger. “Dragonglass and Dragonbone. A weapon worthy of a Targaryen. It belongs to you, Dany.”

 

 

Alethia walked to the door. “It’s your choice.” She said.

 

 

***

 

 

Pardoned Lords and Ladies, loyal nobles, Northern soldiers and Unsullied were gathered in the Throne Room. Daenerys ascended to her throne, a determined look on her face. Alethia didn’t know of her choice, but she suspected Shireen did.

 

 

“I have gathered you all here to tell you of my choice.” Daenerys began. “You all know why I came to Westeros. I wanted to take back what Robert Baratheon conquered from my family, to make the Seven Kingdoms mine and seat the last Targaryen on the throne.

 

But no matter where I look, no one wishes to support me for my cause. I want to break the wheel, but you think that there is no wheel, no need to free anyone in this kingdom.

 

So, I have made my choice. I will give my crown and my throne to my heir, Shireen Baratheon. She has my blood, but also that of Robert Baratheon. She is a good queen and wise beyond her years. I will return to the Bay of Dragons, to rule those cities I have already conquered and liberate those that I haven’t.

 

Those kingdoms won’t be a part of Westeros, but our kingdoms will be allies, in perpetuity.” Daenerys said.

 

 

Silence filled the hall, and Dany took her queue to continue. “All those that wish to accompany me will be welcome. I will take my dragons, Drogon and Viserion with me. Rhaegal will stay behind, with Shireen Baratheon. Those that want to come with me, please step forward now so that we may prepare for our departure.”

 

 

For a while, no one moved. Then, Obara stepped forward. “I will come with you. My father was an explorer, and I want to fill his footsteps.”

 

 

“And I.” Varys agreed. “It is time I returned to my beginnings.”

 

 

“Me too.” A young lord agreed. Soon, a few lords and ladies gathered at the foot of the throne. Daenerys looked content with her supporters, even if this was almost like admitting defeat.

 

 

***

 

 

Not even done with reconstructing King’s Landing, soldiers were now packing up Daenerys’ belongings and preparing a few ships to let her return to the Bay of Dragons.

 

 

Alethia sat on the ledge of a low wall in the harbor, watching soldiers and servants’ bustle around when a quiet shadow joined her.

 

 

“Hello Arya.” Alethia sighed.

 

 

“Hi.” The girl replied, letting her legs dangle.

 

 

“It’s hard, without Jon.” Arya said suddenly. Alethia nodded.

 

 

“You knew him better than me in the end. Did he still care about me?” Arya asked. She sounded insecure, like she was questioning herself, but Alethia understood that.

 

 

“Of course he did, Arya. You were his family, his little sister.” Alethia said. Arya sighed, obviously relieved. They sat in silence for a while again before Arya spoke up.

 

 

“Gendry.” She said.

 

 

“Hm?” Alethia asked.

 

 

“I like him. A lot.” Arya said, “It’s not what I’m used to.”

 

 

“Arya, you’re 14. When I was your age, I thought I knew everything and then I got thrown into this world and had to re-learn everything about life. The biggest mistake I made was waiting so long. I never really confessed ‘liking’ Jon. I packaged it all in a bad joke. So, coming from me, don’t wait too long. This world is living hell, Arya, tell him and spend some time with each other before one of you gets murdered.”

 

 

“How very reassuring.” Arya snorted.

 

 

“It’s my specialty.”

 

 

***

 

 

Tyrion was in the room where the small council took place, consuming copious amounts of wine of course, when Alethia entered. For the first time in days, she’d switched out heavy armor, riding leathers and trousers for a dress.

 

 

Apparently, it was from Cersei’s early wardrobe.

 

 

“I get why you’re always drunk.” Alethia said, taking the flagon from a side table.

 

 

“And I thought you were my sister back from the grave for a second.” Tyrion sighed.

 

 

“What gave it away?”

 

 

“Your lack of immediate venom and hatred at my existence.” Tyrion replied without a pause.

 

 

“Ah. Lovely.” Alethia sat down, shuffling the skirts of her heavy dress. She liked it. Cersei had had undeniably good fashion sense.

 

 

“We need to crown Shireen as soon as possible.” Alethia said.

 

 

“The North won’t cooperate, I take it?” Tyrion asked, rubbing his temples. Alethia nodded and watched Tyrion take another big gulp of wine.

 

 

“However, we could arrange a betrothal between Shireen and Rickon. They’re a little young, but they cherish each other. And Rickon doesn’t have the ambition to become king.” Alethia suggested.

 

 

“So the North would keep a sense of independence while also being a part of the Seven Kingdoms.” Tyrion finished.

 

 

“And you could still start to produce the Imp’s delight someday.” Alethia smiled.

 

 

Tyrion only chuckled in response.

 

 

***

 

 

Sansa agreed to the idea of an arranged marriage somewhat reluctantly. Shireen and Rickon seemed content with the idea of getting married in a few weeks, and soon, the announcement was made in court.

 

 

Shireen climbed the stairs to the Iron Throne as the nobles cheered, but suddenly stopped in front of it. Turning around, Alethia saw she was about to make a speech.

 

 

“Though I am the Queen, I will not sit on the Iron Throne.” She began, “I will not build my reign upon the blood of bygone wars, the violence of a long-gone conquest. It isn’t suitable anymore.”

 

 

Alethia nodded to Shireen. It was a good choice in her eyes, though she might be the only one agreeing to it.

 

 

“The North is an independent kingdom but will become a part of Westeros through my marriage to Rickon Stark. Sansa Stark will retain her rightful title of Queen and Wardeness in the North and Lady of Winterfell. I will assemble my small council privately, but once my coronation is complete, I will announce a new way into the future.”

 

 

With that, the court began to disperse while Shireen rushed down to meet Alethia.

 

 

“Was that good?” she asked, slightly breathless

 

 

“Yeah.” Alethia nodded, “In my eyes at least.”

 

 

The two of them walked up into the small council chamber, where quite a few people had gathered, including most of the sisters, except Garra, who had died in the Long Night, and Gilly and Greta who were currently taking care of a few orphans in King’s Landing.

 

 

Shireen sat down at the end of the table. Yara was leaning against a wall, sharpening a knife. The Blackfish seemed to be extremely grumpy. There were some others, mostly looking disinterested.

 

 

“Well, let’s start with the most important position. The Hand.” Shireen began. “Alethia?”

 

 

Alethia shook her head. “Sorry, your Grace, I told you I can’t. And besides, I’m not familiar with the schemes of the Southern court.”

 

 

“I know.” Shireen nodded. “Lord Tyrion? You have a lot of experience, serving several monarchs. It would please me if you served and advised me.”

 

 

Tyrion nodded in agreement. In return, Shireen handed him the pin with the hand on it.

 

 

“Now, there are a few other positions were I already have people in mind. So let’s start with those. Queen Yara, I’d like you to be my Mistress of Ships. The Ironborn are best at seafaring, and I need one of your people on my council. You were punished for your father’s rebellion long enough. It is time we rebuilt your economy.”

 

 

“I’ll take it.” Yara agreed.

 

 

“Gella, I want you to be the Commander of my Queensguard. I trust you most and you’ve protected me since Castle Black.”

 

 

The woman nodded to Shireen, walking over to the door, immediately beginning to guard it.

 

 

“Lady Arya, it would please me to install you on my small council in the future, when I get to know you better, but if we do that now, I fear we’ll be called the young council. I have no candidates for master of Whispers or Master of coins; however, I hope the citadel will appoint Samwell Tarly as Grandmaester. Then there is the issue of Commander of the City watch.”

 

 

“What about Ser Bronn of the Blackwater?” Tyrion suggested. “He served in that position under me. Of course, there’d have to be certain repercussions for his loyalty to House Lannister, but after that, we could install him as the commander.”

 

 

Shireen nodded. “Ser Brynden, I want you and your nephew, Lord Edmure to figure out a solution for the Riverlands and give the Twins to a new and loyal house. I would like for Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne to rule Casterly Rock in the absence of Lord Tyrion. For the Reach, we’d need to legitimize a Tyrell bastard or find an heir.” Shireen paused.

 

 

“And then there’s the matter of Dragonstone and Storm’s End. I would like to legitimize Gendry Waters for his outstanding deeds and craftsmanship in the Long Night and make him castellan of Storm’s End.”

 

 

“I will rule it with him.” Arya agreed.

 

 

“Now for Dragonstone.” Shireen sighed. “As of now, I believe it would be better to let the castle remain empty until we find a suitable lord or lady to take it over. However, I want to make it a trading post for King’s Landing, to better organize the flow of goods. Would that be possible?”

 

 

Tyrion nodded. “Then it would also make sense to install a Tyrell or someone from Dorne or the Vale as Master of coins and master of whispers on this council. All of the houses were loyal to Daenerys or the Starks, they’ll want their rewards.”

 

 

“I think it would be good to give Queen Shireen a public coronation, and soon. It would send a message and the people would be able to get to know her better.” Sansa suggested. “Maybe we could even pair it with a wedding. On the grounds where the Sept of Baelor once stood.”

 

 

“Agreed.” Shireen nodded.

 

 

The proceedings went on like that for hours, servants coming and going to carry out messages and commands to rebuild the kingdom. Alethia sat and listened, sometimes giving her opinions on things.

 

 

At the end of the meeting, everyone dispersed, leaving only Shireen and Alethia.

 

 

“Is there anything else you think I should do? Any changes you want to make to Westeros?” Shireen asked.

 

Alethia nodded. “There are quite a few, actually. You don’t have to do it all, but it would be nice. First of all, change the succession laws to the ones we already have in the North. Install some kind of child labor laws. Give monetary aids to the citizens of King’s Landing. In the future, hold votes on things concerning the city and count each vote equally.” She paused to catch her breath, only to continue her rant very quickly.

 

 

“Have children go to institutions where they can learn to read, write and do basic calculations from the age of 6. Make it free. Install places where people can have their illnesses treated. Make new positions in your rule, including a Master of Foreign relations, a master of infrastructure and so forth. But do it slowly, don’t overwhelm them. Don’t spend too much money.”

 

 

“That’s… a lot.” Shireen replied at the end.

 

 

“Yeah well, democratic votes shouldn’t be too hard.” Alethia said, the ironic undertone in her voice very obvious.

 

 

“Is that what your old world was like?” Shireen asked.

 

 

Alethia nodded. “Kind of. I’m serious Shireen, you know how important it is to be able to read. If you have capable citizens, it’ll only increase the power of Westeros. Think about it.”

 

 

“I will. Thank you, Alethia.”

 

 

Alethia almost laughed again. “For what?”

 

 

“Everything.” Shireen earnestly replied.

Notes:

I managed to make a callback?? Also, not Shireen planning on installing better healthcare than the US.

Chapter 68: First of Her Name

Summary:

Shireen becomes the queen we all deserve. Rickon can’t stop simping for his new wife. Long overdue apologies are made.

Notes:

Guys writing my novel is going so well???!!! Like I'm already at 40% of my nanowrimo goal ALKFASJFSDJHKDSFFSDJ

The coronation would be first, and then her marriage. Shireen had wanted it that way, and well, she was the queen.

 

 

Alethia held the crown in her hands. Gendry had made it, as Shireen had requested. It was delicate work, golden antlers winding on a circlet with tiny onyxes and citrines littered in between.

 

 

When Alethia turned the crown, her fingers brushed over a tiny detail she’d missed earlier. There, right under the big crowning onyx, were two tiny daisies holding it up.

 

 

It had to be Shireen’s idea.

 

 

Alethia tried to keep herself from bouncing her leg. Shireen was inside the dressing room with Sansa, making last adjustments to her wedding and coronation dress.

 

 

Finally, she stepped out and Alethia could admire Sansa’s handywork.

 

 

Shireen was wearing a heavy onyx necklace that matched her crown. Her dress was a light yellow, almost white, with black stitches and a heavy cloak on her shoulders. Still, Shireen was wearing Lucifer on her belt. It worked, somehow.

 

 

The sleeves detailed Shireen’s story, from Dragonstone to Castle Black and Winterfell and finally, King’s Landing. It was absolutely gorgeous.

 

 

“Wow. You look queenly as fuck.” Was all that Alethia could say. She showed Shireen the coronet, and the girl turned queen nodded in approval.

 

 

“It’s good.”

 

 

“Then let’s go get this show onto the road.”

 

 

***

 

 

The citizens of King’s Landing were already gathered, whispering amongst each other as Shireen, Rickon, the newly appointed High Septon and a few others stepped onto a platform on the ruins of the Great Sept.

 

 

Gella had secured the area, understanding that it was probably not a good idea to have a ‘wildling’ at the side of the new queen. Instead, a talented swordsman from the Vale that had sworn his vow early stood near Shireen. Alethia was watching from the side, standing next to Sansa.

 

 

Officially, she was here to guard her. Alethia glanced up to Rhaegal, who was flying up in the sky.

 

“People of Westeros! We are gathered here today to witness the coronation of Shireen of the House Baratheon.” The Septon intoned.

 

 

He went on to make a more or less interesting speech about her responsibilities and duties as queen until finally, it was time for Shireen to kneel.

 

How the fuck did one achieve such majesty?

 

 

Alethia watched as the crown was settled in Shireen’s perfect hair, daisies almost on her temples.

 

 

“I give you Shireen Baratheon, First of her name, Wardeness of the Stormlands, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm!” the Septon announced. A cheer broke out in the crowd, and even Rhaegal roared overhead.

 

 

Immediately after, the wedding followed. This time, the crowd went pretty much bat-shit insane for Westeros’ new OTP. Alethia knew that it was mostly because they’d been given enough to eat in the last week, but nonetheless.

 

 

Sansa chuckled at Rickon blushing as the crowd clapped for Shireen. She was proud of herself, finally glowing with the confidence she deserved. And Rickon, Rickon only had eyes for her.

 

 

Alethia was reminded of someone else. If only you could see this, Jon. You would be so proud.

 

 

As if she could read her thoughts, Sansa reached out and took Alethia’s hand. She turned to look at the redhead, who gave her a soft smile.

 

 

Alethia couldn’t forgive her quite yet, but the smile seemed like a herald of spring, slowly melting her heart to feel something other than grief.

 

 

***

 

 

It was a few hours into the feast and with the help of a generous amount of food and bullshittery, Alethia laughed loudly at the jokes being told at the table. The banquet was huge and so many people invited that Alethia had lost count.

 

 

The affair wasn’t especially elegant, but there were people from every living situation here, not only nobles, and that would hopefully help to establish Shireen a little more.

 

 

Searching for some quiet, Alethia escaped into the gardens. Still, too many people roamed the area, so Alethia snuck out, pulling a coat over her dress, and walked into the small encampment that was outside the Red Keep.

 

 

Soon enough, she spotted a lone woman talking up a soldier, without much luck. She wasn’t ugly, but the soldier had no money and was clearly not the straightest guy around.

 

 

She gave up and walked away, towards Alethia.

 

“Hey!” Alethia called. “What’s your name?”

 

 

The woman turned. She had to be in her forties, but there was still an air of youth around her that astonished Alethia.

 

 

“Chataya.” The woman replied.

 

 

“You own a brothel, right?” Alethia asked. There was no point in not being upfront anyways.

 

 

“Before it was burned down in the attack, yes. I worked hard enough after Lord Baelish left to take it over, and now it was all for nothing.”

 

 

“I’m sorry to hear that. Perhaps you could come to court? I will lay your situation out to the Queen if you’d like.”

 

 

Chataya narrowed her eyes, her gaze wandering up and down Alethia’s face.

 

 

“You’re the northern King’s widow. The one that always picks up strays, aren’t you?” the woman asked.

 

 

Where she’d gotten that from, Alethia had no idea.

 

 

“That would be me.”

 

 

“They call you Queenmaker, did you know?” Chataya said. Alethia shook her head. “But they also say that you help those in need. That you don’t think you are above us common folk.”

 

 

“There’s no common folk and nobles.” Alethia replied. “Not to me at least.”

 

 

“It’s good to see that some rumors are true.” Was all Chataya said. “I think I will see you soon, in court, Alethia Queenmaker.”

 

 

***

 

 

Alethia saw Sansa standing on the balcony above the Throne Room. It was the exact same spot where she’d stood when her betrothal to Joffrey had been called off.

 

 

“I want to go back to Winterfell soon.” Alethia said. Below, Shireen sat on a new throne, carved from wood and stone, and embellished with metal. It was imposing, though not as extreme as the Iron Throne. But Shireen made up for it.

 

 

“We will.” Sansa promised.

 

 

“I’ll see you around, your Grace.” Alethia half-mocked.

 

 

“Alethia.” Sansa said suddenly, and Alethia stopped.

 

 

“Yes?”

 

 

“I,” Sansa paused, before pulling Alethia into another room. The proceedings of the court were reduced to muffled voices as Sansa began pacing in front of Alethia.

 

 

“I wanted to apologize.” She finally managed. “I shouldn’t have taken that choice from you.”

 

 

Alethia wasn’t sure if Sansa was lying or earnestly apologizing to her. “Why now?”

 

 

“Because-“ Sansa began, “I don’t know Alethia! I remembered how you helped me when I came to Castle Black. You didn’t make me have that child either, you helped me get better without judging me and I couldn’t even accept that you might wanted to make your own choices because I wanted to have Jon back. Or some semblance of him at least!”

 

 

Sansa was shaking when she finished, hands balled to fists as she stood across the room. The scene was almost poetic, sunlight filtering through the window, making her red hair look like it was on fire.

 

 

“I forgive you. I think” Alethia whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. Sansa buried her face in her hands, unable to look at Alethia. “I don’t think I can forgive myself.”

 

 

In a few strides, Alethia had walked across the room. Carefully, she put a hand on Sansa’s back.

 

 

“Hey.” She said, crouching next to her. “We all make mistakes, okay?”

 

 

Reaching up, Alethia wiped the tears from Sansa’s face.

 

 

“I am truly sorry, Alethia.” Sansa repeated, looking at her this time. Deep blue eyes meet hers, still red from tears.

 

 

“Come on.” Alethia gestured, putting an arm around Sansa. “Let’s start packing to go home, hmm?”

 

***

It would take more than a week to get back on the road for Winterfell, but Alethia didn’t know that yet.

 

Instead, she found herself in the small temporary sept. There, at the front, the High Septon was marrying another couple.

 

 

Alethia didn’t know when, or how, but apparently, Brienne had asked Jaime to marry her. Of course it hadn’t been the other way around.

 

 

They both looked happy, and that was all that mattered to Alethia as the marriage was sealed. Later, at the feast, Shireen and Tyrion announced that they would rule Casterly Rock while Tyrion acted as Shireen’s hand.

 

 

“Alethia, I wanted to talk to you about the Night’s Watch.” Shireen said sometime later, when Alethia was refilling her cup.

 

 

Quickly, Alethia shoved the cup away.

 

 

“What is it?”

 

 

“I’ve thought about everything you told me about your world, and I don’t think that that kind of punishment is good, or fair towards women. And we don’t need it anyways, the Free Folk live South of the Wall and the Dead are defeated. I want to disband the Night’s Watch.”

 

 

“That’s good. I’m sure a few of them can start working in castles around the North.”

 

 

“Those that were criminals, send them to King’s Landing.” Shireen told her decisively. “I want to deal with them myself.”

 

“Okay. Don’t overwork yourself Shireen.” Alethia replied.

 

 

“There’s a lot to be done. I intend to do as much as I can in my lifetime.”

 

“You’ve already done so much. Don’t work yourself into the ground or you’ll help no one.” Alethia insisted.

 

 

“And wait with the heirs, some might not take you as serious. Two years at least, alright?”

 

 

Shireen blushed. “We’ll be… careful.”

 

 

“Take care of yourself, Alethia. And of your little Snow.” Shireen said.

 

 

“How- How’d you know?” Alethia asked.

 

 

“You touch your belly when you think no one’s watching. And you can tell when you wear your riding leathers. You haven’t been eating properly.” Shireen sighed, handing Alethia a breadroll.

 

 

Alethia took a small bite.

 

 

“Promise me that you won’t fall apart if I don’t watch you.” Shireen demanded.

 

 

“Whatever my queen demands.” Alethia snorted.

 

 

***

 

 

The next people to leave King’s Landing were Yara and her close friend Gerna. Shireen had assented to the Lady of the Iron Islands leaving, saying that she first wanted to concentrate on other things than expanding her fleet, Euron’s ships still great in number, despite those that had been burned in the battle for King’s Landing.

 

 

Alethia stood in the harbor with the youngest sister, Greta, until the ships disappeared at the horizon.

 

 

“How are you doing, Greta?” Alethia asked as they walked back up to the Red Keep, through streets that were slowly beginning to look like what Alethia had always imagined a medieval city to look like.

 

“Good. I’ve begun to take care of the orphans that worked for Qyburn. I really like it. Lord Tyrion said there’s an old villa that I can use. They all live there now, and I teach them how to read when I’ve got the time. There’s a few septas helping me.”

 

 

Alethia had to smile. It looked like she wasn’t the only one picking up strays anymore.

 

 

“You’re too kind.”

 

 

“Grima says so too, but these children need it.” Greta replied confidently. When a young girl ran up to her, she grabbed her hand, waving Alethia goodbye as the girl pulled her away to play.

 

 

“Goodbye, Alethia! I’ll miss you!” she called.

 

“I’ll miss you too! Say hello to the kids from me!” Alethia shouted after her.

 

 

The Red Keep was becoming more open and less imposing as merchants built up their stalls below it, offering their wares. Alethia bought a mandarin from a stall advertising fruits from the Free cities, enjoying the fresh scent as she continued walking.

 

 

She hadn’t had a mandarin in years, Alethia realized. She savored the sweet smell as she climbed a few rocks, sitting down to watch the bustle of the market and listen to the faint sound of crashing waves.

 

 

A stab of homesickness hit Alethia as she tasted the sweet, sticky fruit. Here, all alone, she let a few tears fall for her family and friends.

 

 

Was Morgan alright? Had she made it back to New York? And what about her mother and brother?

 

 

Alethia shook her head, telling herself that it was no use to worry. She still loved her family, but she had a place, a role here. She had to move on. Still, she let memories of home overwhelm herself as she ate the fruit.

 

 

When she finished, she made herself and her child a promise.

 

 

You might be raised to be King or Queen of the North, but you are half-German too. You come from another world, like me, and I’ll teach you all about it. We might be the only ones who speak our language, but that won’t matter. Not to me.

 

I won’t let you be ignorant of who you are. Where you come from.

 

 

***

 

 

Three times is the charm, Alethia thought as Arya came up to her giddily and told her that Gendry had asked her to marry him.

 

“You said yes, right?” Alethia asked.

 

 

“As long as I can bring Nymeria, I don’t care.” The girl laughed.

 

 

“Wait till you’re at least 16 or I’ll have a word with the Septon.” Alethia joked.

 

 

Arya seemed to not care, only nodding as she skipped away. She was going to be castellan of Storm’s End with Gendry. Alethia knew Shireen wanted to make her Mistress of Law, and she thought that it would be a good choice in the future.

 

 

Arya had a keen sense of justice, but no girl at the age of 14 should be burdened with such responsibility. Except Shireen, apparently.

 

 

Alethia barely made it five steps before Sansa cut her off. “Did you hear?” she exclaimed breathlessly

 

 

“That Gendry and Arya are engaged?” Alethia blurted out.

 

 

“That’s news to me.” Sansa replied, “What I meant to say was that there’s been an incident in the Vale.”

 

 

“An incident?” Alethia asked carefully. Sansa nodded.

 

 

“A boy. He just appeared one day, talking complete nonsense, something about the end of a pandemic, whatever that is. I think he’s-“

 

 

“A traveler?” Alethia filled in. Something in her moved. Whoever this was, they might know something, anything about her family.

 

 

“Where is he now?” she asked.

 

 

“Lord Royce is bringing him to King’s Landing. They’ll arrive in four days.” Sansa said.

Notes:

Am I predicting corona will be over once and for all in 2024? Yes. Why? I’m so done with this shit.

Chapter 69: Hope

Summary:

The boy arrives. Sansa and Alethia travel back to Winterfell and Alethia begins to heal.

Notes:

Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates!

Lord Royce greeted Alethia and Sansa before bowing to Shireen. He and his men were escorted to their quarters, away from the gates. As the small crowd of soldiers parted, Alethia saw a man help a boy that was about 10 off his horse.

 

 

He had a darker complexion, brown curls like Missandei’s and an unsure look on his face. Alethia knew him. Where did she know him from?

 

 

“I’ve seen you before.” The boy said. He had a distinct New York accent, and Alethia’s heart almost skipped a beat.

 

 

“I know. I recognize you.” She replied. She wracked her brain, trying to remember, but she came up empty.

 

 

“You didn’t have the scars when we were marching.” He said. And then, Alethia realized where she knew him from.

 

 

She remembered a six-year-old boy, walking with his older sister. They’d had a poster with all the names of those that had died as victims of police brutality. They’d been separated at some point, which was good, considering that Alethia got teargassed later.

 

 

He’d given her their sign, hers being destroyed while his mother had helped wash the teargas out of her eyes.

 

 

“What’s your name kid?” Alethia asked him softly. He was still wearing his modern clothes, shivering in a jacket designed for fall.

 

 

“Brayden Collins. I’m from Brooklyn.” He said proudly.

 

“I used to live in Brooklyn too.” Alethia said with a smile. “I heard you said something about Corona?”

 

 

“Yeah. My momma told me that the scientists on the news said it was gone for real!”

 

 

Alethia had to smile. Morgan had come back just in the right moment if what Brayden was saying was true.

 

 

“I can tell you’re really cold, how about you come up to the castle with us Brayden, and I give you something nice and warm to wear?”

 

 

***

 

Alethia had taken the time to teach Brayden how to ride a horse properly before they left for the North. They’d be taking the King’s Road and the ride would give him saddlesores if he couldn’t do it properly.

 

 

Brayden was kind though, patiently letting Alethia guide him through the steps, even if he preferred petting the horse’s mane.

 

 

Still, everything was complicated nowadays.

 

 

“When do I get to go home?” Brayden asked Alethia a day before their departure.

 

 

“Honestly kid, I don’t know if you will. I came here four years ago. The two other people from our world, one of them died here and the other went back but the woman who could open those portals is dead too. I’ll try to write a letter, because I know there is someone else who could maybe do it, but I can’t make any promises to you.”

 

 

Brayden had only nodded in return.

 

 

 

Sansa’s POV:

 

The boy had given Alethia a reason to go on.

 

 

Sansa felt sad that Alethia wasn’t spending that much time with her anymore, focusing on the boy instead, but she didn’t say anything. If anything, Alethia needed something to live for, to hope for.

 

 

First, it had been surviving, then going back. When Sansa had come to Castle Black, it had been Jon and the Dead. After that, she’d watched Alethia fall apart in purposelessness, but Brayden seemed to be someone she knew, a memory like Morgan.

 

 

She prayed he wouldn’t fail her.

 

 

Sansa urged her horse into a quick trot, distancing herself from Alethia and Brayden and riding ahead. She felt safe here, where she was alone. A guard kept a slight distance as he guarded her, but it was enough for Sansa to let her façade fall.

 

 

She tried not to think about Alethia. Of all people, why did it have to be her?

 

 

A woman, her brother’s widow and in some ways, her rival.

 

 

Denying it was no use, Sansa was falling for Alethia. She hated it with every fiber of her being. Looking back, she knew that the dreams of chivalrous princes she’d told everyone about had been lies.

 

 

She’d kissed Jeyne Poole behind the stables once and the other girl had giggled, but they’d never done it again. She’d thought Alethia was beautiful and fascinating as soon as she burst into her life. She’d felt a stupid, idiotic jealousy over Shae, who was Tyrion’s.

 

 

Margaery had told her that some girls liked pretty girls and given her a rose and Sansa, she’d fallen so helplessly and hoped that her blushing would be mistaken for unsurety or insecurity when really, she wanted nothing more than to kiss the woman next to her.

 

 

And then, she’d seen Alethia again, her beauty dulled to those around her, but the fierceness only making her stand out to Sansa. She’d been Jon’s of course, so Sansa buried her broken heart in her broken body and said nothing.

 

 

Even when Daenerys had come into her home, Sansa couldn’t help but feel attracted to the woman’s regality. She kept it all stored away.

 

 

But she figured out Morgan’s and Alethia’s history and when Jon died, Sansa felt an entitlement burn through her, one that she tried to quell with distance and then with cruelty. Nothing had worked.

 

 

Sansa Stark had never, ever felt for men the way she did for women.

 

 

There was no cure or poison for love.

 

 

Hesitantly, Sansa turned around. Alethia was smiling at something Brayden had said. Her hair was all loose and messy, despite Sansa’s insistence that she needed to put it into a braid for riding. Alethia had wanted to feel free, she’d said.

 

 

Her laughter was loud, unladylike, and wild. Sansa hadn’t heard it for so long and by the old Gods and the new, she wanted to hear it again and again and make it into a melody she could sing.

 

 

Gods, how she longed to have her. It was all for nothing, women didn’t love women. That wasn’t how it was done here. The North wasn’t Dorne.

 

 

For the rest of the journey, Sansa kept her distance, desperately trying to fight the flame inside her, but it had already turned into a raging wildfire. She turned her gaze forward; Sansa would have to keep going.

 

 

 

Alethia’s POV:

 

 

Sansa was keeping her distance, but Alethia didn’t pressure her. She figured the woman needed time to finally mourn Jon.

 

 

Brayden was slowly adapting. He loved riding, but the cold didn’t become him. Maybe, in a year or so, Alethia could send him to Storm’s End. He was talented with his hands, letting soldiers teach him how to whittle, and being a smith seemed to fascinate him.

 

 

She knew he’d have more fun and freedom there, with Arya and Gendry.

 

 

And if she was honest, Alethia wasn’t sure if she would be able to take care of two children. She still wasn’t sure if she wanted her one child, but it was too late now to try an abortion with herbs.

 

 

The bump was beginning to become noticeable. Soon, everyone who looked at her would know. Alethia almost let her hand wander to her stomach, not sure why, but Brayden ripped her from her thoughts.

 

 

“She has a huge crush on you.” He said.

 

“Who?” Alethia asked.

 

 

“Sarah Stark.” Brayden said. “I mean, Sansa. She looks at you like my mom looks at her girlfriend.”

 

 

“Oh, I’m kind of working through a loss right now.” Alethia said quickly, trying to change the topic. Was it true? Did Sansa have feelings for her?

 

 

Alethia shook the thought. It was better not to think about that, or how she felt about Sansa.

 

 

***

 

They made a halt at the damned inn of the crossroads. As soldiers packed away things and Sansa began organizing the rest of the trek, Alethia saw Brayden play with a boy from the inn. Deciding that she could leave him alone for a while, she slipped out of the inn.

 

 

The stars were glittering in the clear night sky, a sight that Alethia still wasn’t used to. Four years in Westeros were nothing compared to 14 years of a polluted night sky.

 

 

Here, where the stars were so bright, Alethia could easily understand why they’d been worshipped by so many cultures.

 

 

“We could have had it all.” she told Jon. Maybe he was listening.

 

 

“Why are you talking to the dead, hmm?” a woman asked her suddenly.

 

 

Alethia turned. The woman was old, bent. Her hair was white and barely holding onto her weathered scalp. She had a wide face and even wider lips, making her look almost inhuman.

 

 

“Who are you to ask me that?” Alethia asked.

 

 

“That doesn’t matter.” The woman replied, “You can’t bring back the past. But if you want, I’ll tell you your future.”

 

 

It was a tempting offer. How bad could it be? At least she’d be prepared.

 

 

“Then tell me.”

 

 

“First I have to taste your blood.” She demanded, drawing a knife. Alethia’s blood ran cold as she realized who this was.

 

 

Still, she drew the blade across the back of her arm. Toothless gums scraped her arm as the woman sucked the blood off.

 

 

“Now tell me what you see.” Alethia demanded.

 

 

“I see the serpent. She’s wounded, still, but strong, nonetheless. She has a wolfcub. It has the honor of the White wolf and the cunning of the red wolf. It will start a war in the little cub.

 

I see a winter that almost kills the serpent, a kingdom who’s time has finally begun, a stag that holds the crown. I see that there is a little raven, filled with longing for a place he’s left behind.

 

The raven can return but the serpent can’t, no matter how hard she tries. Her destiny is bound to this realm. The one who sent her knows what the serpent will do.” The woman paused to stare at Alethia.

 

 

“Your heart will never be quite the same, but that isn’t of importance to the one. You will bring spring. Don’t try to run from your fate, girl.”

 

 

You will bring spring. The words echoed in Alethia’s minds as a prophecy renewed the weight she carried on her shoulders. When would it end?

 

 

***

 

When they finally made it to Winterfell, Alethia immediately made a beeline to the infirmary, Brayden close behind. There, she found Satin who was working together with Garra.

 

 

“Satin!” Alethia exclaimed, hugging her friend tightly.

 

 

“You’re pregnant!” Satin exclaimed. “And who’s this?”

 

 

“This is Brayden, he’s from New York, like me.” Alethia introduced.

 

 

“What’s your name?” the boy asked.

 

 

“I’m Satin.”

 

 

“That’s what my sister’s prom dress was made of, silly.” Brayden laughed, smiling at Satin brightly.

 

 

Satin quirked a smile too. “Do you want to take care of these soldiers with me, Brayden?” Satin offered, and Brayden nodded.

 

 

***

 

When Alethia entered the office of the ruler of Winterfell, Sansa was already inside, her head buried in her hands.

 

 

“You okay?” Alethia asked.

 

 

“Yeah. Bran and Meera just left. I’ve got complaints piling up and I still need to get the coronation across the board.”

 

 

“I can help, if you want.” Alethia quickly offered.

 

 

The next few hours, she helped Sansa sort paperwork, before beginning to plan the coronation and writing a letter to Kinvara.

 

 

While Sansa began working on her dress for the coronation, Alethia climbed the stairs to the rookery, steps she’d taken so many times in Castle Black and even in Winterfell

 

 

Here, in the tower, only the ravens gave her company. Alethia stared out of the window for a while, admiring the landscape covered in ice and snow, green fields turned white.

 

She sent off the raven, hoping that at least Varys would know about the whereabouts of the red priestess.

 

 

When she climbed down, she walked to the Great Hall, only to find Edd and Tormund sitting at a table.

 

 

“I heard the Night’s Watch got disbanded.” Edd sighed. Alethia nodded.

 

 

“Seems like you won’t have to freeze your arse off shoveling trenches for the rest of your life after all.”

 

“And what do I do now?” Edd snorted derisively, taking another gulp from his ale.

 

 

“Go back to the Vale maybe. Marry a girl and settle down. The rest of your family is dead, you’re the heir to house Tolett.” Alethia suggested.

 

 

“I’m staying.” Tormund decided.

 

 

“And why’s that? You should be helping the Free Folk settle into the Gift.” Alethia asked.

 

 

“I’m not missing little Snow. I should be his uncle of honor or something. Surely you Southerners got something for that.” Tormund said.

 

 

“Not a Southerner.” Alethia corrected again, “but I’ll make you my child’s godfather if that’s what you want.”

 

 

Edd sputtered on his drink. “You’re pregnant?”

 

 

“Tragically so.” Alethia agreed, eyeing the ale with jealousy.

 

 

“Ha! I knew it.” Tormund exclaimed.

 

 

“You weren’t sure?!” Alethia asked.

 

 

“Almost.” Tormund corrected, “Close enough.”

 

 

“You should name the kid after me if he’s him, for all the trenches I’ve dug for you.” Edd muttered.

 

 

“Is Eddard close enough?” Alethia asked.

 

 

“As close as it’ll get, I suppose.” Edd replied gloomily.

 

 

“Ah, lighten up.” Tormund demanded, patting Edd on the back so strongly that the man almost buckled.

 

 

“How’s her Grace doing?” Tormund asked.

 

 

“She’s good. Rickon too.”

 

 

“And you?”  Edd asked.

 

 

“Better. I’m trying my best.” Alethia promised.

 

 

“Hope.” Tormund agreed. “That’s what you got to hold on to.”

Notes:

this was the last chapter i had written out, so there might be a slight pause in the next few weeks, but I promise I haven't abandoned this fic

Chapter 70: New Beginnings

Summary:

The last few sisters get new jobs, women being badass and a letter

Notes:

I’m baack! The novel’s first draft is done and now I don’t really know what to do with it but oh well.

I added some cool covers + fancasts, the chapter names are all Part …. So, if you want to take a look…. ;)

Sansa’s office was full of paperwork, making it seem more packed than it actually was as the three remaining sisters stood in the office.

 

 

“Where do you want to go, now that the Long Night is over?” Alethia asked them. Sansa was scribbling away on parchment, as if she wasn’t listening, but Alethia didn’t mind her quiet nosiness.

 

 

“We wanted to ask you.” Grima replied with a small smile.

 

 

Alethia quirked back her own grin, wracking her brain for an answer.

 

“Gerra, I want you to stay. I know you delivered all your sister’s children, and I don’t trust the Maesters to help me. If I’m honest, I’m terrified, but I know you’ll help me.” She finally replied. The oldest sister nodded, before slinking out of the door, probably towards the infirmary.

 

“Now, it would be good if one of you helped settle the Free Folk in the Gift.”

 

“That could be me.” Garta replied. “There’s a man I want to go there with anyways.”

 

 

When her older sister wiggled her eyebrows at her in response, Garta elbowed Grima. “As if you’re any better.” She hissed.

 

 

“I want to travel around a bit more, meet some people. Lord Varys said that’s the best way to experience the world.”

 

 

“You talked to the Spider?” Sansa interrupted. Grima nodded, barely hiding her smile. “If you want to travel, Winterfell will gladly endorse you.” Sansa proposed. “As long as you send back reports.”

 

 

Grima nodded, understanding perfectly what Sansa meant with ‘reports. The two sisters left, and Alethia stood up from the table she had been leaning on and pulled out the chair across from Sansa.

 

“I remember the first time I sat in this chair.” Alethia reminisced. “Your father was interrogating me, and I was so terrified I scratched at the wood right here.”

 

Sansa snorted, glancing over to where Alethia was pointing.

 

“He was extremely intimidating and stern!” Al defended.

 

 

“I know, that’s what everyone says, but I cannot imagine that you were afraid of him.”

 

 

“Practically shitting my pants.”

 

 

“How ladylike.”

 

“I thought we were past that.” Alethia laughed. “How’s the coronation going?”

 

“Everything will be ready in a month or so. A few vassal lords still haven’t responded, and a lot of them need a break, after the Long Night.”

 

“No one’s opposing you yet?”

 

“A few wanted to support you, rather than me, but word of your speech in King’s Landing spread like wildfire.” Sansa said, sounding only slightly bitter.

 

 

“Good. I meant what I said, I don’t want to be a queen.”

 

 

“I won’t be able to give you a position on my council either.” Sansa apologized.

 

 

“It’s fine. I only thrive in politics when they’re constricted to the walls of a moldy castle full of men. But I could be your guard. Your sworn shield if you want.”

 

 

“That wouldn’t be very fitting, you’re my brother’s widow and soon everyone will know you’re pregnant.”

 

“If I am pregnant at all, then we can wait until I’ve given birth.” Alethia snarked, already shuddering at the thought of the entire process. Sansa nodded, before yawning and shifting in her chair.

 

“You should take a break. We can go on a walk, see how the winter town’s doing.”

 

 

“I really need to get this letter done.” Sansa insisted. “It’s dry, but I can’t take a break until I’ve gotten a damned raven to fly off with it.”

 

“Believe me, it’ll be much easier once you’ve gotten some fresh air.” Alethia promised. Sansa seemed to struggle with her decision for a while, before nodding and getting out of her chair.

 

 

“I’ll just go put on something warmer.”

 

 

And with that, Sansa left the room, leaving Alethia to fuss over her expertly braided hair, before quickly walking down stone hallways to pick up Jon’s cloak so she wouldn’t freeze her ass off in the bone-chilling temperatures.

 

 

When she met Sansa outside the Lady’s quarters, Alethia noticed the dagger at her side, and felt proud that she wore it so proudly.

 

 

“So, winter town or the Godswood?”

 

“Winter town. My mother used to go to the whorehouse once a year to speak with the madam about criminals. I think the visits ought to be more often.”

 

 

Alethia nodded in agreement, following Sansa outside and watching her auburn hair disappear under a plain hood.

 

 

The walk to the whorehouse wasn’t long, as it was just outside the walls of Winterfell, but Al felt like she was on a ranging again, a cold wind making her teeth chatter. The establishment wasn’t open yet, only a lone sex worker sweeping the snow off the way to the door.

 

 

“I want to speak to the madam.” Sansa said confidently as they approached. The woman took one look at Alethia’s uncovered face, nodded, and disappeared inside. After a few seconds, she came back outside, waving them in.

 

 

The madam rushed towards them, kicking a glove under a table. “Lady Stahl! I didn’t know you were coming!” she sputtered, regaining her composure as she skidded to a halt and curtsied. Alethia felt discomfort bubble up, but before she could say anything, Sansa removed her hood, turning the madam into a mess.

 

Alethia felt seriously sorry for her as she searched for the right words, coming up empty. “My lady Stark! To what do we owe this honor?” the woman who had been sweeping attempted instead.

 

 

“Is there anywhere we could sit and speak more comfortably?” Sansa asked, her voice kind, but stern.

 

 

“Of course!” the madam exclaimed, pulling back a chair at a table obviously intended for drinking.

 

“What are your names?” Alethia asked.

 

 

“My name is Lorelei; this is pretty Aly.” The Madam replied.

 

 

“You can call me Alethia.” She said. “Now, I don’t think there’s much use in dancing around the matter, so let’s get straight to the point. Are there any violent customers coming in?”

 

 

From the look Aly gave Lorelei, Alethia knew the answer immediately. And so did Sansa, her hands clenching into fists momentarily.

 

 

“What’s his name?” she demanded coldly.

 

 

“We don’t know.” Lorelei replied. “But when I tried to deny him entry, he just pushed through anyways. Martha took his coin; poor thing is desperate for any money she can get.”

 

“Can we speak to Martha?” Sansa asked, and Aly nodded, pointing to a door farther down into the whorehouse. The lady of Winterfell stood up abruptly and made for the door.

 

 

Alethia stood to follow, turning to the two women. “If there is anything else you need, don’t be afraid to come to Winterfell and ask. I’ll inform the guards to let you in.”

 

 

Aly nodded enthusiastically, while Lorelei gave her a warm smile, before pushing the broom back into Aly’s hands.

 

 

It was dark inside the room, but Alethia could hear Sansa already speaking to Martha. As she lit an oil lamp, and Alethia could see the extent of the poor woman’s injuries, it felt like a punch to the stomach.

 

 

Dark splotches wound around her neck and arms, bitemarks covered her face and the tops of her breasts while her eye was swollen shut. Alethia didn’t have to look at Sansa to know that she was probably as white as paper.

 

 

“Martha, my name is Al.” Alethia slowly introduced. “I know that what you experienced was painful and hard, but I need you to try and tell me anything you remember about him so we can bring him to justice.”

 

 

“There’s no justice if it’s not rape.” She spat out bitterly.

 

 

“I don’t give a flying fuck about whatever idiotic shit some man in King’s Landing strung together, but I do know that what happened to you is a crime, at least in my book. And I think the Lady of Winterfell agrees.”

 

 

“I do.” Sansa quietly assented.

 

 

Martha looked up at them, her brown eyes meeting Alethia’s green ones. She saw the pain and rage that brunt inside them, but she wasn’t sure what to do.

 

 

“He had stringy brown hair, blue eyes, a beard that reached his chest and crooked teeth. Was a soldier of some kind, crooked teeth.”

 

 

“Any distinct features?” Sansa asked.

 

 

“A scratch mark that ran down his left cheek. Was already there.”

 

 

“Martha, would you like to come to Winterfell for your injuries? There’s a woman there who know how to treat them, and perhaps Lady Sansa could find some work for you to do that could bring you safer coin?”

 

 

She contemplated for a while, the mistrust in her eyes obvious as she stared at Alethia and then Sansa. When she nodded, Sansa handed her a cloak that had been lying over the end of the bed, which Martha put on.

 

“Do you need help walking?” Alethia asked, and the woman nodded her head lightly, so Alethia took her arm over her shoulder and helped her limp out of the room. Outside, both Aly and Lorelei nodded their goodbyes. If they were surprised by the third woman, they didn’t show it.

 

 

As they approached the gates to Winterfell, Martha suddenly froze in her tracks, and Alethia saw her features contort in an expression of fear as she stared at a guard that matched her description, only his beard missing.

 

 

“I can get you through to the infirmary while Lady Sansa makes the arrest.” Alethia whispered, and Martha nodded.

 

 

She smiled for the first time as she watched the man being pulled away.

 

 

***

 

 

Alethia did not execute, nor sentence the man, but the next morning, he was gone from the cells and Martha seemed to breathe a little easier. After breakfast, she let Brayden run off to play with the other children in Winterfell and walked to the rookery, her heart pounding in her chest as she prayed that Varys had written back.

 

 

There was a raven sitting impatiently, a miniscule scroll attached to his foot, and Alethia gently removed it, before giving the raven some corn.

 

 

Not daring to open the letter yet, she picked up the layers of her dress and rushed back out, hoping to find somewhere to read in peace and quiet.

 

 

Most of the castle was empty, due to the Long Night, and the fact that it was winter. Many people had left for their homes again, and many more had resigned from their positions in Winterfell. Not even the castle felt save anymore.

 

 

The few people Alethia did pass bowed their head in respect, their reactions so unlike the whispered gossip that had followed her in her first days, and she would be lying if she didn’t admit that it felt right, somehow.

 

 

She had a place in Winterfell, a home of sorts, one that she wouldn’t have to leave after two years to move to a new country again, and even if Jon was gone, the walls of Winterfell seemed to whisper sweet memories into her ear. Ghosts haunted the walls, but they were kind ghosts and Alethia was loathe to leave for somewhere she didn’t know.

 

 

Sitting down at a pillar in an abandoned hallway, she could almost imagine it being a library in a prestigious university. Briefly, Alethia wondered if that was where she would be if she had never left. Would she still have studied law? Made it into Harvard?

 

 

Unrolling the scroll, Alethia began to read, and her heart soared in relief.

 

 

Lady Stark,

 

Priestess Kinvara currently resides in Mereen with Queen Daenerys as one of her advisors. She pushes her religious agenda, as all of them do, but she says she knows how to get the boy home.

You will have to make the journey there, but Queen Daenerys has promised you save passage as soon as you come to the Bay of Dragons.

 

The spider

 

 

Immediately, Alethia stood. She had to find Sansa, to tell her that she was leaving for Mereen with Brayden after the woman’s coronation.

 

 

It turned out that Sansa had found her. As soon as Alethia turned around, Sansa looked to the scroll in her hands.

 

 

“There is someone that can bring the boy home.” Alethia told her. “But I won’t leave until there’s a crown on your head.”

 

 

“I just came to tell you. The coronation will be in two weeks’ time.”

 

 

“Will that be enough for everyone to arrive?”

 

 

“There won’t be that many people attending.” Sansa assured. “Only the most important lords and ladies, and my great-uncle Brynden.”

 

 

Then, the redhead took Alethia’s hands, a gesture that had become familiar to both of them and began walking towards the end of the hallway.

 

 

“It’s good the boy can go home to your world. I can see how much pain this world has caused you.” Sansa confided.

 

 

“Westeros has taken a shitload of things from me, but it’s not only one-sided.” Alethia assured. Sansa raised a brow.

 

 

“I got to fall in love, met new friends, experienced things I would never get to see back home. No one here knows how bright the stars shine in Westeros, and how beautiful the vast forests and valleys are. It’s nothing like back home. Here, you can ride into one direction for a few hours and get lost in a world untouched by humans. There’s a wild beauty in it that no one but me seems to see.”

 

 

Sansa listened intently as they walked towards the Great Hall, smiling as Alethia talked. “I never looked at it all that way. And I suppose it’s true, you did fall in love.”

 

 

“And I’m sure you will too, Sansa.” Alethia replied. She didn’t know why, but as she saw Sansa’s bitter expression, she wanted to assure her that it wasn’t something she did not deserve.

 

“With what man?” Sansa snorted. “One that will take my power as soon as I marry him?”

 

“Whoever said anything about men.” Alethia joked, smiling at Sansa, who began to blush redder than her hair. As she saw Sansa’s embarrassment, she looked away quickly.

 

 

“Did you mean that?” Sansa asked, nervously looking around.

 

“Of course. Come on, you know I was together with Morgan, right?” Alethia replied, also becoming unsure. Was Sansa going to kick her out?

 

 

“Yeah. Do you know anyone else who was like that?”

 

 

“A few people. At that point, I’m sure many were still figuring things out, but most of my friends weren’t exactly the Seven’s definition of man and wife.”

 

 

Sansa smiled at that, turning away to look at nothing. As she stilled in front of her chambers, Alethia realized that they hadn’t gone to the Great Hall at all, and Sansa had led her away from it. She followed the younger woman inside and sat on a chair as Sansa began to file through papers pretentiously.

 

 

“What about me?” Sansa asked.

 

“What about you?”

 

“What if- what if I was… you know?”

 

 

Appreciative of tiddies? Alethia almost asked, but she knew that this was a sensitive topic to Sansa.

 

 

“Then I wouldn’t judge you for it. How could I?”

 

 

“I am.” Sansa blurted out, her voice a half-whisper. Sansa looked at her, and Alethia could see the tears and her wobbly lip and quickly crossed the room, hugging Sansa tightly.

 

 

“I don’t think I like men at all.” Sansa whispered through the hug. “I feel like I should, but I don’t.”

 

 

“You’re perfect just the way you are.” Alethia assured. “You can’t force love, and you especially can’t force attraction. Sansa, if you’re only attracted to women, that’s just a part of who you are. Doesn’t make you any less human.”

 

 

Sansa nodded, and Alethia could almost hear her heart hammering against her chest. “Thank you.”

 

 

“It’s nothing. Sapphic solidarity, you know?” As Sansa stared at Alethia in confusion, she explained. “Right, you don’t know, but there was this poet called Sappho that was attracted to women too and a lot of women who love women call themselves Sapphics, after her.”

 

“A poet?”

 

“Yep.” Alethia affirmed. After a few seconds of silence, she spoke up again. “Soooo…. What exactly is your type?”

 

 

Her attempt to loosen the tension worked, and Sansa giggled. “My type?”

 

“You know, what do you find attractive?”

 

 

“You tell me first.” Sansa insisted.

 

 

Alethia sighed. “Fine, let’s see. Someone who’s smart, but also sarcastic. I’m an absolute sucker for nice hair. I swear to God, if someone with flowers in their hair walks past, I might just freeze. It sounds cheesy, but I find personality attractive. I can’t say if it’s blonde, or brunette, ‘cause I just see someone and go ‘yep, they’re hot’, you know?”

 

 

“I… guess?” Sansa replied.

 

“Your turn.”

 

 

“I do like characters like from the songs. Someone who is strong but has a soft spot for me. And honestly, I do understand why men find breasts so nice. Collarbones are great too though.”

 

 

Alethia wanted to stare at Sansa, for basically immediately admitting that she thought tits were the shit.

 

 

“Well, that doesn’t sound too far-fetched.” Alethia assured. “You’ll find someone, I promise.”

Notes:

Sansa just came out and we all get to celebrate :))))))

Chapter 71: The Queen in the North

Summary:

Sansa gets her crown, Alethia visits the crypts for the first time and leaves for Mereen with Brayden.

Notes:

So…. Is Jon Jr. a boy or a girl? I’m not sure yet, I’d like to do twins, but idk. Neither of them really has the genes for it, so I’m leaning towards boy atm.

Sansa’s dress was, of course, immaculate. From the delicate metal casing around her bust to the weirwood leaves on her skirt to the one-shouldered cape that had been carefully draped, she already looked like the Queen she was about to become.

 

 

It had been Howland Reed, who, at the last second, had brought a crown that was almost beyond recognition, but Sansa seemed to know what it was immediately.

 

Somehow, the lord had managed to recover Robb’s crown, and given it to Sansa, who had commissioned a new crown to be made from the material. When she braided a thin bronze circlet into Alethia’s hair, she almost began to cry.

 

 

It was sweet of Sansa, to think of her when it wasn’t even supposed to be her day.

 

 

When Brayden barged in, Sansa left the room with a smile, saying something about last touches.

 

 

“These clothes are weird.” The boy immediately complained.

 

 

“I know.” Alethia sighed, checking his grey-and-white doublet for stains and loose threads. “But it’s what’s expected around here. And you look pretty good.”

 

 

Brayden smiled brightly, holding still as Alethia secured a small wolf pin to hold his cloak together.

 

 

“I have a surprise for you, Brayden.” She announced. “We’ll be going on a little holiday after Sansa’s gotten coronated, and when we get to the Bay of Dragons, you can go home. There’s someone there who can make it happen.”

 

 

Brayden jumped to hug Alethia, but the first thing he asked wasn’t related to his departure. “Dragons?” he asked instead.

 

 

“Yeah, maybe we’ll get to see one in King’s Landing too. I wanted to visit my friend Shireen anyways.”

 

 

“The Queen of Westeros?”

 

 

“The one and only. Now, let’s go, we have a coronation to be at. That’s not something you get to see in New York, right?”

 

 

Brayden nodded, following Alethia into the Great Hall, where all the Lords and Ladies were already gathered. Alethia stood behind the throne, glancing to Edd and Tormund, who were lounging in the back of the hall with Satin.

 

 

Almost uncomfortably, Alethia felt Longclaw dig into her side. She was wearing it for the coronation, and for the trip she was leaving for later. The metal weight of it kept her grounded, but it was still nauseating. Hopefully it would be enough to get her through the ceremony.

 

 

When Sansa entered the Hall, walking towards the throne with regal determination, everyone fell silent. She looked radiating, and being Queen fit her. Alethia was only glad that it wasn’t her who was walking towards the throne, lords kneeling for her, and it wouldn’t be her who would have a crown set upon her head.

 

It would be too heavy for her, and it wasn’t something she wanted. She had enough power the way it was, there was no point in giving people an opportunity to further scrutinize her.

 

 

Wylis Manderly had been given the honor of putting the crown on Sansa’s head. Alethia knew it was a means of reparation, for Wylla’s death. When the polished crown with snarling wolves was set on Sansa’s head, Alethia took Longclaw out of her scabbard.

 

 

“The Queen in the North!” she proclaimed. Her call was followed by those of many lords, raising their swords to celebrate Sansa. As Alethia glanced over, she saw the contentment radiating off Sansa, and she knew that the crown wouldn’t be too heavy for her.

 

 

After the coronation, there were hours of lords and ladies swearing fealty, congratulations and at last a feast, Alethia was completely exhausted. Brayden looked like he was about to fall asleep on the table and even Sansa began to look like the feast was exhausting her.

 

 

When the songs started to become raunchier, Sansa sighed, held one final toast, and slipped off. Alethia followed, settling Brayden into his room, and walking towards the solar, where Sansa would no doubt still be working.

 

 

“Sansa? You should be sleeping.” Alethia said carefully as she peeked into the office. When Sansa didn’t respond, Alethia took the liberty to come in and set the wolf crown onto the table.

 

 

“You’re leaving tomorrow.” Sansa sighed. “It’ll be strange to not have you around.”

 

 

“I won’t be long, I promise. After that, we’ll have all the time in the world to rule Winterfell.”

 

 

“I’ll need you here, Al. Your support, it’s helped me a lot.”

 

“I’m glad to hear that.” Alethia smiled. Suddenly, Sansa stood up and walked around the table, hugging Alethia tightly. Caught off guard, Alethia froze, before hugging her back.

 

 

“I meant it. If you don’t come back, I won’t know what to do.” Sansa repeated. Alethia nodded.

 

 

“I promise you I’ll come back to Winterfell.”

 

 

***

 

 

The next morning, Alethia did something she thought she wouldn’t be able to do until at least another few months. Brayden was packing his things when she slipped away, to find the crypts. Ghost trailed after her, as if he knew what was going on.

 

 

There was one guard who was standing near the entrance, but he moved away without any more questions and Alethia slipped inside.

 

 

She passed the grim statue of Eddard Stark, the stern face not quite right, as well as Robb’s statue, stone locks crowned for eternity. Alethia felt pride swell in her chest as she remembered that she was the reason that Rickon wasn’t there too.

 

 

Jon’s statue was better than Eddard’s or Robb’s, but it wasn’t really him. Everything was a little askew. Alethia tried to imagine that he was standing in front of her again as she stood there, but his face was already less clear in her mind. How she wished she had a picture of him.

 

 

Standing in front of him felt weird, so she sat down in front of his stone feet, and Ghost curled up next to her. She ran her fingers through his white fur, and he laid his snout on her stomach.

 

 

Ever since he had started doing that, Alethia came to terms with the fact that she was definitely pregnant.

 

 

“So.” She began, not sure what to say to someone who wasn’t even there. “I miss you, Jon. You just died on me when I was supposed to kill the Night King.”

 

 

She paused, forcing herself not to pick at her cuticles or flee the crypts. “Also, we’re getting the family you wanted. Only that you’re dead.”

 

 

There it was, choked out most ineloquently, as always. Alethia let out a nervous laughter, clapping her hands together.

 

“Yep, I’m pregnant. You might be thinking, what the actual fuck? And I thought that too, but I was so busy with crying over your death that I just conveniently forgot birth control. Anyways, if you want to visit me, you’ll have to do it in Mereen. I’m bringing someone else home. I doubt I could go home, and I’m not even sure if New York is home anymore. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

 

 

Then, she stood up and rushed out of the crypts and back into the courtyard, hoping that there were no tears in her eyes.

 

 

***

 

 

On Sansa’s insistence, there were a few soldiers accompanying Alethia, and to her delight, that included Edd and Satin. Edd had decided that he wanted to go back to the Vale and visit his home, while Satin was intent on visiting Oldtown.

 

 

Sansa had offered him the position of steward in Winterfell, which Satin had declined. On the way to Mereen, he wanted to return to Oldtown perhaps permanently, and neither Alethia nor Sansa had pressed the matter further, only telling both men that they would always be welcome in Winterfell.

 

 

The other soldiers were either men eager to prove themselves or warriors that Alethia had worked with for a long time. A spearwife was amongst them, much to Alethia’s relief. Sansa had sent her with them in case anything happened to Alethia or her kid on the road, but Al just needed another woman to talk to.

 

 

After a few days, they reached the Vale. A few of the men would be going into the valleys of the land with Edd, but not Alethia.

 

 

“I’ll miss you.” She said. “You’re a good friend, Edd. You deserve to have a little break.”

 

 

“Yeah, thanks.” He awkwardly replied. Alethia couldn’t help but snort at his unchanged mannerisms. Still, she jumped off her horse and hugged him tightly.

 

“Don’t die.” She said, her voice almost as sarcastic as his.

 

 

“Not until there’s no trenches left to shovel.” He replied, before turning around to walk towards the Vale. His home, Alethia remembered.

 

 

She stood her ground until they were all out of sight, before getting back on her horse. The sooner they got to Mereen, the better.

 

 

Oldtown was another quick stop, and it was disquieting how quickly Satin and Edd were gone. Satin gave Brayden an amulet that he had had with him for years now, saying that it had protected him, and then, he had disappeared into the bustling city.

 

Alethia hoped that he would find what he was searching for.

 

 

***

 

 

After a week of riding, Brayden looked like he was ready to never visit any zoo again, ever, and Alethia wanted to agree. But as the smell of King’s Landing hit her nose, she knew that they’d have a little break soon enough.

 

 

“Come on, it’s only a kilometer or so, and then we’ll be there.” She encouraged Brayden, who nodded and softly kicked the horse into a trot. Alethia felt the warmth around her, more fall than winter, and sighed in relief. She still hated the cold.

 

 

The city walls grew in front of her eyes, and Alethia was glad to recognize the black-and-gold banners peacefully flapping in the wind. It seemed right, somehow, even if Alethia had never seen King’s Landing during Robert’s reign. As they drew closer, she recognized the miniscule flames in the crowns of the stags.

 

 

Guards lazily strolled up and down the ramparts as smallfolk came and went, making way for Alethia’s caravan of warriors. A few disdainful looks were thrown into her direction, but she kept her head high, sighing with relief as another group of riders came towards them.

 

 

“Lord Tyrion, it is good to see you.” Alethia greeted, trying to remember everything she knew about the court. She was on a diplomatic mission too, to establish the North as a kingdom, and she didn’t want to fuck it up.

 

 

“Lady Alethia. Or is it your Grace now?” Tyrion joked.

 

 

“That title belongs to Sansa Stark.” Alethia pressed out. She wanted to get away from the crowd, and Tyrion’s gleaming pin reflecting into her eyes didn’t help.

 

 

“Of course, my lady. Please, Queen Shireen is waiting for you.”

 

 

Baratheon and Stark soldiers merged together, causing Alethia to ride in the center, not the front, like usually.

 

 

Brayden seemed more at ease than her as he followed the Lord Hand, the horses climbing Aegon’s Hill steadily.

 

 

“She’s been rebuilding.” Alethia noted. Tyrion only nodded. Here, where the smallfolk weren’t that close and soldiers concentrating on the escort, the formalities weren’t that important.

 

 

“It may be winter, but King’s Landing is already experiencing spring. Believe me, my lady, I don’t think anyone else has ruled much better than the young Queen.”

 

 

“Is that what they call her in the streets?”

 

“Partially.” Tyrion laughed. “But they can’t seem to decide between young, good or great.”

 

 

“A little early for the last.”

 

 

“They’re well fed, for the first time in years. It’s no wonder.”

 

 

“And no comments about her greyscale?” Alethia asked. Tyrion sighed.

 

 

“Some, but they’re dying down. They’ll always be there, no doubt.”

 

 

Alethia wished there weren’t. She knew what this world was like of course, and had Shireen been born in hers, there would still be people talking about her greyscale, in the same hushed voices they used here, but that didn’t make it any fairer.

 

 

“And Rickon?” Alethia asked. “How does he fare as King Consort?”

 

 

“I doubt there has been a man happier with being second to his wife than King Rickon. The smallfolk love him almost as much as Shireen, and he has taken to inviting different people to dine in the Great Hall as his father did.”

 

 

Alethia smiled at that, remembering Eddard’s tradition to invite someone to the dais. She’d been at that table too, and while her experience hadn’t exactly been the most pleasant, she knew how important it was to stay in touch with reality, especially here, where the lives of those at the top were so drastically different to those at the bottom.

 

 

“And the sisters?” she continued his interrogation. She could tell that Tyrion was having a hard time keeping it together, and not to roll his eyes at her, but they were nearing the gates, and one last question couldn’t hurt.

 

 

“Being overrun with orphans.” He managed, his response almost as curt as his tone. They entered the Keep, and as soon as Alethia’s feet touched the ground, a stableboy swept in to lead her horse away. A page approached them, most likely to offer quarters or refreshments, but Tyrion waved him off. Alethia threw him a grateful glance.

 

 

Walking towards the throne room felt foreboding, until Alethia told herself to get a grip and made sure that Brayden was okay. The wide doors were opened for them, and she saw that Shireen was holding court, sitting on her new throne. Rickon was sitting of to the side on a smaller… something between a chair and a throne. Gella kept guard at the foot of the throne, with a knight that Alethia did not recognize.

 

 

“Queen Dowager of the North, Alethia of the Houses Stahl and Stark, Former First Ranger, Woman of the Watch, wife to the late King in the North, Jon Snow. And… her ward, Brayden Collins, of New York.” A herald announced, as if Rickon hadn’t been Jon’s brother and Alethia Shireen’s big sister, practically. Tyrion looked slightly disconcerted about not getting his own announcement.

 

 

Heads turned as Alethia walked into the throne room, the lord who had been talking to Shireen before her moving out of the way. A smile that reached her eyes broke out on Shireen’s face, and she announced that court would resume shortly. Tyrion led Alethia away from the Throne Room and towards the chamber that held the small council.

 

As soon as the door was closed behind her and Brayden, Shireen launched herself into Alethia’s arms.

 

 

“I missed you.” She sighed.

 

 

“Me too. How’s it going around here? Are you okay?” Alethia asked, checking for any visual signs that something was wrong with Shireen, but luckily, she came up empty.

 

 

“Things are going much better than I expected.” Shireen assured. “There’s been some resistance from the Westerlands, but since Jaime arrived, that’s dwindled to almost nothing too. How’s the North?”

 

 

“Good. If you could expend any food or other supplies, I’d be very grateful. Sansa misses you both.”

 

 

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Tyrion pouring a cup for himself, and when he started making one for Brayden, she shot him a warning glance, to which he held up his hands in mock surrender.

 

 

“I’ll be honest Shireen, I can’t stay long, but if you could get us a room to stay in for the night an a few boats to cross the Narrow Sea, you’d ease a few more of my worries.”

 

 

“Everything will be ready for you tonight, promise. But you must walk with me in the gardens for a bit, Alethia. Rickon, can you show Brayden around?”

 

 

Rickon nodded, waving to the boy, while Alethia followed Shireen outside and towards the gardens. At the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks and a soft breeze around her face, Alethia felt a twang of homesickness.

 

 

She focused on following Shireen instead, her crown glinting like Tyrion’s pin. Shireen was wearing a white and gold gown today, and the stitching had been done with intention, Alethia noticed. Hidden between stags, lions and dragons was a little snake.

 

 

“This place reminds me of my other home.” Alethia smiled.

 

 

“How so?” Shireen asked.

 

 

“It’s a bunch of places mixed together, somehow. Now I need to ask what you wanted to talk about, you’re keeping me on edge.”

 

 

“Are you okay? The kid? You’re starting to show, a tiny bit at least.” Shireen blurted out excitedly.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. And you and Rickon?” Alethia asked. Immediately, a blush spread on Shireen’s cheeks.

 

 

“I listened to you. No heirs in the first two years.”

 

 

“Seems pretty hard on you.” Alethia jabbed playfully and Shireen let out a groan.

 

 

“That’s no way to speak to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

 

 

“How could I forget?” Alethia joked. She let Shireen link their arms and followed her as she led Alethia to a quiet spot in the garden. She didn’t recognize it from the show, but the stone gazebo looked out onto the ocean, a few hedges around it hanging on for dear life.

 

 

Shireen sat down, patting the spot next to her. When Alethia leaned back on the bench, the young Queen put her head on her shoulder. Closing her eyes, Alethia let herself relax for a moment. This felt like peace, a little bit at least.

Notes:

Current rulers of Westeros:

-Shireen Baratheon as Queen of Westeros, with Rickon as King Consort
-Arianne Martell as the Princess Dorne
-Willas Tyrell in the Reach
-Edmure Tully as Lord of Riverrun
-Robert Arryn as Lord of the Vale (with a bunch of advisors ofc)
-Tyrion Lannister as Lord of Casterly Rock, with Jaime Lannister as Lord castellan and Brienne of Tarth as Lady of Tarth once her father dies
-Yara Greyjoy as Queen of the Iron Islands
-Gendry Baratheon (formerly Waters) as castellan/Lord of Storm’s End, together with Arya Stark
-No current ruler in Dragonstone, will become trading post
S-ansa Stark as Queen in the North and Alethia Stark/Stahl as Queen/Lady Dowager
-And of course, Dany as Queen (or Empress? I like empress too) of the Bay of Dragons

Chapter 72: This is my first vacation in years.

Summary:

Alethia and Brayden travel across the Narrow Sea and get to Braavos

After two days on the ship Shireen had rented out for them, the change in temperature became significant. For the first time in years, Alethia could go to her cabin and put on a light dress with flowy sleeves, clothes that did not weigh her down.

 

The captain of a ship was a tall summer islander, a widow whose husband had died many years ago. Since then, she captained the sleek ship, taking goods and people from King’s Landing to Dorne, Braavos or the summer islands.

 

Malosa Zharos smiled often and brightly, the gap in her teeth making her more sympathetic. She liked Brayden a lot, helping him take care of his hair as soon as he came on board and talked to him for hours on end, filling his head with wild tales. But Brayden looked happy, so Alethia concentrated on finding her own peace.

 

 

She sat on a quiet part of the long boat, watching people talk and bustle around while enjoying the warmth that had finally come back.

 

 

“You lost him not very long ago, no?” Malosa asked suddenly, sitting down next to Alethia. She nodded, swallowing down her feelings.

 

 

“Did he die with honor?” she asked again, her voice tinged with an accent that was new to Alethia.

 

“I suppose. I’ve never really understood the concept, though.”

 

 

“My husband died defending our ship against slavers. I had stayed back home, because I was with child, as are you.”

 

 

A chill ran down her spine as Alethia noticed how easily Malosa could see through her. Then again, they both weren’t from Westeros, the place where Alethia had to pretend.

 

 

“Do you blame yourself?” Alethia asked softly.

 

“Sometimes. It is hard not to, I imagine saving him sometimes.”

 

 

“And your child?”

 

 

“I have a strong son.”

 

 

“How did- how did you know?”

 

 

“There are shadows under your eyes and lines of grief and scars on your face that you are too young to wear. And the swell is beginning to show. It could be a lady’s stomach, but for someone who carries a sword, it is telling.”

 

“Do you spend much time studying lady’s stomachs?” Alethia jabbed. The other woman laughed again, shaking her head.

 

 

“No, but I have lived for a long time. There are some things we mothers just know.”

 

 

“Any advice on becoming one for the first time?” Alethia asked.

 

 

“You have to love your child for him too. Don’t let them suffer because you did.”

 

And with a gentle pat on the shoulder, Malosa abruptly stood up and helped a few sailors clean the boat and steer towards Bravoos. Alethia repeated her words in her mind. She didn’t want to fuck up, even if she still had mixed feelings about her pregnancy.

 

 

***

 

 

Stepping of the boat in Braavos felt like coming home. Immediately, Alethia felt guilty as she listened to the bustle of the harbor reminding her of her own world, so much more than Winterfell’s quiet simplicity. She turned around, waving to Malosa as the boat left the harbor again, sailing towards the Summer Isles.

 

 

The guards that had come with them from Winterfell shifted uncomfortably. Unlike Alethia and Brayden, they weren’t coping with the heat very well. As they waited for their escort to take them to the inn, one of them began stringing up the Stark banner on a pole, much to Alethia’s annoyance. But she knew that it would grant them favors, and safety, so she let him.

 

 

She was wearing a dress that was green enough to not offend braavosi nobles, but still according to her station, while Brayden wore dark blue. Their envoy, however, was dressed in a deep purple, and Alethia immediately knew that he had to be highborn.

 

“My lord.” She nodded.

 

“Lady Stark. Allow me to escort you to my humble abode.” He flourished, beginning to lead the way towards the northeastern district. Immediately, Alethia noticed how the streets began to widen and people became better dressed. Some threw her dirty looks, probably because of the Stark banner, but she stared into the envoy’s back.

 

 

Soon enough, they entered a spacious, fenced in villa, with lush gardens that servants were tending to.

 

 

“My name is Tomerro Torys.” He finally introduced. “My good friend Illyrio Mopatis asked me to prepare the guest rooms for you so you can stay tonight.”

 

 

Alethia could guess what that really meant. He was in debt, to Mopatis, and wanted her gone as soon as possible.

 

 

“Thank you, my Lord. We will be making for Pentos on the morrow.”

 

 

Just in that moment, a young man burst between them. From the similarities between him and Torys, Alethia guessed he was his son.

 

 

“Tregonno Torys.” He announced, kissing Alethia’s hand. “It would be my pleasure to take you to Pentos.”

 

 

Alethia shot Brayden a warning glance as he sniggered and nodded her head. “Thank you, that is very kind.”

 

 

Again, Tomerro looked so annoyed that she knew he didn’t want his son to come, but he clasped his hands together and led them inside.

 

 

***

 

 

Alethia checked the dress that Tregonno Torys had given her to wear for dinner in his enthusiastic manner, opening the door to let one of the guards, Calren, inside.

 

 

“My lady, if I dare say so, I think Lord Tregonno is quite taken with you.”

 

 

Alethia laughed at that. “He’s obsessed with the idea of me. A warrior woman that’s wild, and not only on the battlefield.”

 

 

Calren laughed, before appropriately lowering his head and catching himself. “Pardon me.”

 

 

“Don’t. We sat at the same table days after I came to Westeros. We didn’t talk much, but we were the same, no? You can joke with me, or I might die between all the stiff courtesies.”

 

 

“Of course, my lady.” Calren nodded. She knew it was no point in trying to get him to call her by her first name. Sansa would probably be disappointed if she did too.

 

 

“Have someone fetch Brayden from his room in time for dinner, please.” She commanded, walking out of the door. She wanted to get to know this place, just in case.

 

 

One of the other guards followed her like a shadow while she explored the villa, Calren disappearing to relay her command. All of this felt surreal to Alethia, from being followed by a guard when she didn’t even need one, to practically not being allowed to say please and thank you to people ‘below’ her.

 

 

And by every higher entity, the tight fucking dress didn’t help. Dark grey, a Stark color, but with such a low cut that every scar on her cleavage was out in the open. At least here, she wouldn’t catch a cold.

 

 

***

 

 

Calren and the other guard stood nearby as Alethia, and Brayden ate with Tomerro and his son. At first, there were a few minutes of quiet, but like Arya, Tregonno would rather face his father’s wrath than hold his tongue.

 

 

“We have heard many stories about the woman in the Night’s Watch, Lady Stark. Is it true that they ride wolves instead of horses beyond the Wall?” Tregonno asked. Alethia tried to cover her laugh as choking on her food, but she was saved by a servant taking away her empty plate.

 

 

“Ah, no. Sorry to disappoint, but they walk.” She replied, enjoying the fish that had been put in front of her. Unlike all the food in the North, this one had actually been salted and had spices on it.

 

 

Before Tregonno could ask any more questions embarrassing for both sides, Tomerro cut in.

 

 

“Please, tell us of a battle you have fought in.”

 

 

Alethia swallowed. “There weren’t many battles in my time in the North, mainly only slaughter. But I could tell you about the taking of King’s Landing.”

 

 

Tregonno nodded enthusiastically, and even Tomerro leaned forward, interested.

 

 

“At the time, the city was being ruled by Cersei Lannister. Because she had forces protecting the walls, we would have made too big of a loss by attempting to breach them, and we had no time to gather a fleet for a naval attack.” Alethia began.

 

 

As courses came and went, she lost herself in retelling the attack, letting out the pitiful details about her drinking trip and reunion with Sam. When she was done, the dessert was long finished, and Alethia decided to end the story on Shireen being ended Queen.

 

 

“My Lady, I know that you wish to depart early tomorrow, so it would only be right for me to show you around Braavos before you leave.” Tregonno suggested. Glancing outside, Alethia noticed that it was barely dark. They had eaten dinner early, and honestly, Alethia wanted to see Braavos before they left the next day.

 

 

“It would be my pleasure to see the city, but I must get changed beforehand.” Alethia replied. It would buy her time to make sure that Brayden was safe and get the affairs in order. Abruptly, Tomerro stood, and she knew that meant dinner was over. Brayden, Calren and the other guard followed Alethia as she made for her own room again.

 

 

She quickly instructed Calren to organize a few guards to take care of Brayden and then asked him and another guard called Alyn to wait outside while she rifled through the wardrobe that had been left to her use.

 

 

A few minutes in, a maid scuffled into the room and stood in a corner, waiting for instructions while Alethia chose her dress, yet another black garment, but this one was much more covering, reminiscent of Cersei’s dresses, and it gave her the sense of security she needed right now.

 

 

Alyn and Calren fell in behind her, their steps calming Alethia’s nerves as she walked towards the main entrance, where Tregonno was waiting. She took his arm stiffly, following him as he walked through the darkening streets of Braavos. Though she had many weapons concealed on her body, Alethia felt naked without a sword by her side.

 

 

Tregonno was armed though, she noticed, and in a fight, his sword would have to do.

 

 

She half listened, half stared at the sights of the city herself as Tregonno explained everything to her, from the plants to the courtesans who glid by quietly on their boats in the canal.

 

 

A woman in a sheer silvery dress caught her eye, and Alethia turned to Tregonno to ask, only to see him staring after her too.

 

“What is she called?” Alethia asked Tregonno, who seemed shaken out of a trance by her sudden interruption.

 

 

“She is the Moonshadow.” Tregonno replied. “And one of the most beautiful courtesans.”

 

 

“I agree.” Alethia said, laughing when she saw Tregonno’s surprised expression.

 

 

“There are different kinds of beauty though.” Tregonno began, and Alethia internally sighed. Not this.

 

 

“That is very true, my Lord.” She said carefully. “Hers is an ethereal beauty.”

 

 

“And yours a fierce beauty. I would have wished to see you fight in King’s Landing”

 

 

Alethia felt second-hand embarrassment flood her at the words and glanced back to Calren and Alyn, who were keeping pace behind them.

 

 

“That was not a pretty sight to behold.” Alethia assured him, but Tregonno shook his head.

 

 

“There are two things that I love in this world: women and fighting. Both of those together, well, I can only thank you for pushing your agenda in the North.”

 

 

“My agenda? I had no agenda, other than the survival of humanity.” Alethia replied sharply.

 

 

“Pardon me, my lady, I understand what you mean.”

 

 

“I am tired.” Alethia sighed. “I would like to go back to your father’s manse now.”

 

 

Tregonno looked disappointed but led Alethia back to the manse. She could tell that he wanted to push her to do more with him, and probably sleep with him in the end, but she had spent three years in the Watch, so Alethia quickly managed to get rid of him.

 

 

After assuring Calren and Alyn that they could end their shift now, she took off the dress that had been pushed onto her and searched for a sleeping gown in the wardrobe, finding one that was very obviously intentioned to look like lingerie. At that point, Alethia was too tired to care and slipped it on, falling asleep as soon as she hit the mattress.

Notes:

As you can probably tell, I had a lot of fun with picking out clothes, so here are all the links that gave me inspiration. Since we’ll get to warmer climates now, I’ll finally be able to get away from the same stuff we’ve had since the beginning, especially since I loved Dany’s outfits in Mereen so much.

Alethia’s dress leaving KL: https://agameofclothes.tumblr.com/post/49378997244/what-jeyne-westerling-would-wear-at-the-craig (but make it long sleeved)

Alethia’s dress at her arrival in Braavos: https://agameofclothes.tumblr.com/post/63379173726/valentino

Alethia’s dress in Tomerro’s villa (but in dark grey): https://agameofclothes.tumblr.com/post/146530639456/bibi-bachtadze

Alethia’s dress during her walk through Braavos:

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/660129257883483176/

Chapter 73: Pentos has charcuterie boards

Summary:

Alethia’s mind is not okay, but we already knew that. Pentos is actually very cool (apart from the slavery ofc). Also, this chapter is mostly dreams, they end after the seven stars ;)

Notes:

TW: mentions of rape and miscarriage

got my booster shot and I'm feeling like absolute shit smh

The first thing Alethia heard was the screech of metal on ice, a sound that she had heard only twice in her life. It was enough to let her know exactly whom she was fighting. When her eyes shot open, she was met with the face of a White Walker.

 

Her hands were shaking as she held Lucifer above her head, trying to block the blows that were being rained down on her. When the Walker knocked her sword out of her hand, Alethia ran past him in a frenzy.

 

The opening to the Godswood was in front of her, and Alethia dove towards it, the White Walker’s spear barely missing her body as she fell into the cold snow. With a groan, she got back up, stumbling between the trees.

 

She regained her energy quickly, but without her sword, Alethia felt helpless, and swerved every Undead she met.

 

When she saw Jon killing a Walker under the hearttree, she felt her emotions soar, running towards him with renewed energy.

 

He turned, smiling when he saw her, and Alethia felt happier than she had in a long time, because she knew this was for her, not for her body, or any political strategies, but her.

 

Despite the battle raging on around them, Jon hugged her tightly. Alethia clung to him in turn, wishing that he would never let go.

 

“Al.” he whispered. “You’re alright.”

 

“And you’re still alive.”

 

“Of course I am, I promised.” He replied, giving Alethia a lop-sided grin. “Did you see Grenn and Pyp coming here?”

 

Without meaning to, Alethia nodded. “Grenn was helping make final fortifications and Pyp was in the inner keep with Sansa.”

 

“You shouldn’t be out here fighting.” Jon said suddenly, his eyes glancing down to her stomach.

 

“If we lose, there’ll be nothing to live for, and I’ll be damned if I let my child fall into the hands of the Night King. Besides, this is what I do best.”

 

Jon paled at her words but nodded. “I can’t stop you anyways.”

 

“No.” Alethia agreed. “You can’t.”

 

As more and more dead rushed into the woods, Alethia took out her dragonglass dagger, fighting alongside Jon, trying to hold of the masses that were scrambling towards them. Suddenly, they all let off and only the muted screams in the outer keep were keeping them company.

 

When she saw the Night King coming, Alethia knew why. She stepped forward, gripping her dagger until her knuckles turned white. This was her destiny, what she was supposed to do. The reason she had been granted immortality.

 

He attacked first, and Alethia ducked out of his way, backing away from each hit, hoping that there would be some way to kill him. It was no use without her sword.

 

Glancing over her shoulder, she searched for Jon. Her heart stopped when she saw him, getting overwhelmed by wights. She wanted to jump towards him, but as she heard the screech of an ice spear, Alethia turned back, rolling out of the way of the Night King.

 

As quickly as she could manage, she got back up, trying her best to hack at him, but he was quicker, stronger, and he didn’t exhaust. There was something off about him as his fighting style changed suddenly, into something more familiar.

 

And when Alethia saw steel-grey eyes staring back at her, weapon poised to kill, she knew why. A scream left her lungs, but the dragonglass in Jon’s body was already there, the damage done as he exploded into shards of ice.

 

***

 

Alethia felt hands grabbing at her body and shot up. Jon’s eyes were the same color as in the dream, but warmer now, and they held fear.

 

“Al? Al, wake up!” he said, holding her as if she was fragile.

 

“Jon?” Alethia croaked. This wasn’t right, she had seen him die, three times now!

 

“It was only a dream.” He comforted. Alethia nodded, trying to understand what was going on. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“The Night King.” Was all that Alethia managed, before her throat felt like it was closing up and she couldn’t bring out another word.

 

“He’s gone, Al. We won; don’t you remember? It’s summer again, and we’re all safe.”

 

Jon helped Alethia out of bed and she noticed how hot she felt, how humid the air was. Walking to the window, she stared outside, and her eyes were meet with a lush garden.

 

“Jon where are we?” she asked suspiciously.

 

“King’s Landing. Gods, Al, how bad was your dream so that you forgot? I am the King! You are my Queen.”

 

“I don’t- when?”

 

Jon took his time with answering, searching for a dress in her wardrobe instead. “When Daenerys went mad, I took the throne, as was my birthright. Shireen opposed me for a while, but after you silenced her and my heritage was revealed, there was no more opposition from anyone.”

 

Alethia froze in her tracks. Had she just heard him correctly?

 

“The handmaid will come and help you soon enough Al. Now, I’ve got matters to attend to, but you’ll join me for court later on.”

 

By the tone of his voice, Alethia knew that it wasn’t a question. She nodded thickly, instead choosing to admire the luxurious dress Jon had picked out for her.

 

A few minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door.

 

“Come in.”  Alethia called, steeling herself. The maid that came inside seemed familiar, with her blond hair and emerald eyes, but Alethia waved the thought off as she got dressed. Maybe she just looked like her a bit.

 

Afterwards, while she was sitting at the vanity, Alethia saw the shakiness in the other woman’s hands as she braided her hair. Al looked into the mirror, and when their eyes met, she looked away like a skittish horse.

 

“What is your name?” Alethia asked. The woman behind her let out a shaky breath.

 

“Myrcella Waters, your Grace.” She choked out, and Alethia almost whirled around to take a good look at her. The scar running across her face was what made her so unrecognizable.

 

“Right. Would you break your fast with me?” Alethia continued. Myrcella froze for a second.

 

“Are you feeling ill, your Grace?”

 

“No, but you look like you are famished.”

 

“Your friends would be disappointed if you ate with a bastard like me.” She stuttered out. At that point, Alethia’s thoughts were racing. What was going on? In the morning, everything had seemed all right, but now, Myrcella was treating her like she was a dragon and calling herself a bastard.

 

“My friends?”

 

“Taena Merryweather, Walda Bolton and Lady Melisandre. If you don’t remember, your Grace, perhaps I can ask for Maester Qyburn?”

 

“No.” Alethia cut her off sharply. Fuck, what the hell was this? She knew Melisandre of course; the damned priestess had been complicated enough. Walda Bolton was Roose’s wife, but why the hell would Jon have anything to do with the Boltons or the Freys? They were basically his worst enemies in the Battle of the Bastards, hers too.

 

And Taena Merryweather. Alethia wracked her brain, until she remembered that she had been a book character, and not from the show. She had been the woman Cersei wanted to make her hand. What the actual fuck was going on here?

 

Slowly, Alethia began to get an inkling of what the situation was. This all seemed surreal, but she had traveled universes before, right? And maybe Myrcella was right, maybe she had just forgotten about this apparently huge part of her life.

 

“I’ll break my fast alone.” Alethia said in the coldest voice she could manage, immediately feeling bad as Myrcella nodded and rushed out of the room.

 

A few minutes later, servants rushed inside, bringing Alethia platters loaded with food, together with a flagon of wine, but Alethia waved them off as soon as they came inside. She needed time to think.

 

While Alethia ate bread with marmalade and stuffed herself with tarts, because holy hell, how was she this hungry, she tried to make sense of her situation.

 

Okay, so this was what she knew. Jon was King, having killed Dany. She killed Shireen and was the Queen. Of what, Alethia had no clue. Myrcella was her terrified handmaiden, Qyburn her go-to maester. Walda Bolton, Melisandre and Taena were her besties.

 

Immediately, Alethia knew that she had to avoid Melisandre. That woman would see through her like she always had. Walda Bolton was fine, right? She didn’t seem to terrible in the books and the show and Taena?

 

All she knew was that Taena was bicurious at least, and ambitious. So, sating that ambition would keep the woman from breathing down her neck, right?

 

Alethia leaned back, finally full and waited for someone to come and call her. After a few minutes, she got up, pacing around the room and finally walking into the adjoining chambers. There was an office, another room that was empty except for a few dusty sofas, a small bathroom (if it could be called that) and another bedroom. Here, Alethia stopped again. There was a crib in the room, and now she had to find out if she had a baby.

 

Did she? Fuck, what if she had children running around in this place and didn’t even remember their names? A part of her hoped that her hunger this morning had been pregnancy cravings and Jon was just excited to have a kid. That was it, right? No children she would treat badly, ruin like her own mother had managed with her controlling behavior.

 

Alethia shook her head and walked back into the bedroom, grabbing the mirror on her vanity. The scar from Orell was still there, a faint pink line running across her eye, but the huge cut in her cheek from the White Walker was gone. All of this was too surreal.

 

She needed a weapon. Something, anything that she could use to protect herself. After rummaging in a few chests, Alethia finally found Lucifer, in a new, polished scabbard, and secured the sword around her waist. The dress left quite a lot of room for movement, surprisingly, and when someone finally knocked on her door, she practically sprang up, before remembering that she was supposed to be acting.

 

“Come in.” she repeated, and the door swung inwards. On the other side stood a figure Alethia immediately recognized, but his appearance caused cold sweat to run down her back.

 

The Mountain barely acknowledged her, but as she walked towards him with shaking legs, he simply turned and made space for her. Alethia walked for a bit, until she found a part of the Red Keep she recognized and then made a beeline for the throne room.

 

When the Mountain opened a door that led to the balconies overlooking the court, Alethia hesitantly stepped onto it. There were many chattering ladies standing around, but as soon as they saw her, they quieted down and parted, leaving a free path.

 

At the part of the balcony nearest to the throne, Alethia saw two women. One of them had russet brown hair and a bigger stature, making her Walda Frey while the other’s turned head was pitch black, and therefore Taena.

 

Feigning confidence, Alethia walked past the ladies and her supposed friends, trying to get a look at what was going on in the throne room. The sight took her breath away in the worst way possible.

 

Jon sitting on the throne seemed normal at first, until she saw his crown, his clothes and everything else he was wearing. Targaryen colors, not Stark. Melisandre stood behind him, on his right, while a man with a hand pin stood to the left.

 

His face was obscured since he was turned, and Alethia tried to lean forward as inconspicuously as possible. When he turned, Alethia saw the glassy pale eyes of Roose Bolton staring down at the figure at the bottom of the steps and her stomach lurched.

 

How, and why was this man still alive?

 

At the bottom of the steps stood someone that was blissfully familiar. Tyrion looked like he had been dragged through the mud though, and Alethia could guess that he had committed a crime of sorts.

 

Jon’s words were a faint ringing in her ears, but Alethia knew she had to look as the henchman dragged Tyrion down to his knees and took his head with a swing. Not a second later, Jon stared up at her and Alethia saw the remainders of joy dancing in his eyes.

 

As he announced the court would resume later, Alethia left the balcony to make her way to the throne. Jon met her halfway.

 

“Where’s Sansa?” Alethia asked quickly. The redhead was the only person Alethia could think of to help her right now.

 

Jon laughed. “She’s in the North, married to Baelish.”

 

“What?” Alethia blurted out.

 

“We all know how terrible the marriage to Ramsay was, but Littlefinger truly loves her!” Jon replied, but the coldness in his eyes told Alethia everything she had to know. She wanted to storm off, hack at something with her newly recovered sword, but before she could even move, Jon caught her arm.

 

“You haven’t worn your sword in ages.” He whispered, and as his eyes flickered down to her hip, Alethia felt a distant memory of the other Jon come back to whoever this was.

 

“I felt like it today.” She shrugged. Without warning, Jon pinned her against a wall and kissed her harshly.

 

“Jon-“ Alethia began, but he had the audacity to put his hand over her mouth.

 

“What? Not here?” he asked, already picking her up and carrying her to his room. There, he continued relentlessly, beginning to loosen her dress.

 

“Jon!” Alethia repeated, trying to wriggle out of his grip. “Not right now.”

 

“Why not?” he asked, annoyance in his tone and expression.

 

“Excuse me, I think I have to vomit.” Alethia lied, fleeing the room and running, only wanting to get away.

 

When she was out of breath, Alethia leaned against a wall and ran a hand over her face.

 

“Let me guess, your husband?” Taena asked, causing Alethia to flinch.

 

“What?”

 

“You know you can trust me, Thia.” Taena said, coming closer. She was beautiful, and the way she wrapped up her words in a voice that sounded like honey made them seem easy to believe, but as Taena began to kiss down her neck just where Jon had minutes earlier, Alethia remembered what she knew about her.

 

Ambitious.

 

“Not right now, Taena.” Alethia said softly, straightening out her skirts. The woman nodded, but she didn’t seem too disappointed as Alethia left her, wondering if she was cheating on Jon actively in this place.

 

She needed to talk to him. Maybe if she just told him, he would change again, or at least be more patient. She regretted it when she came closer to the door opening to her quarters. A guard was standing in front of it, but Alethia could hear the terrified cries coming from the inside.

 

Immediately, bile rose in her throat.

 

“Move.” She commanded, but the guard didn’t budge.

 

“The King commanded me not to let anyone enter, and that includes you, your Grace.”

 

“Get out of my way.” Alethia warned the man, trying to get past him, but he pushed her back. Angrily, she drew her sword, and by the weight of it, she knew that she hadn’t used it in a long time. Still, Alliser Thorne had drilled technique into her, and Tormund had taught her wildling tricks, so the guard was dead on the floor in a few seconds.

 

With him gone, Alethia pushed into the room. The sight she saw made her want to run and forget what had happened but instead, she walked towards where Jon was tying Myrcella down and pulled him off her.

 

To her relief, he hadn’t done anything else yet, so she quickly cut the ropes off her wrists.

 

“Run.” She whispered to Myrcella, who was still frozen in shock, but Alethia didn’t have time to comfort her, and turned around to face Jon.

 

“WHAT THE FUCK, JON?” she screamed at the top of her lungs, her palm connecting with his face before she could think.

 

“Are you calling me the evil one for fucking another woman? After what you’ve done?” he yelled back.

 

“You were about to rape her!” Alethia cried out, exasperated.

 

Jon’s hands were around her neck in a matter of seconds. Alethia knew that she had to fight back if she wanted to get out, but that would mean killing Jon, and she couldn’t do that a second time.

 

“Maybe, if you weren’t unable to give me heirs and managed to carry a baby to term that wasn’t crippled or miscarry after three months, I wouldn’t have to resort to fathering bastards.”

 

Then, with a cruel punch to the stomach, Jon caused Alethia to sink to the ground. He kicked her again, before walking to Myrcella, who was still glued to a spot and picking her up. He threw her on the bed, and Alethia thought that she would be forced to watch, but after a second, he was back with her, and kicked her in the stomach while she was still on the ground.

 

Alethia felt a prolonged sting in her stomach and though she had never experienced it before, she immediately knew what was happening. As the sting turned into a burn, Alethia let out a pathetic whimper, and she hated herself for being so weak and useless in that moment.

 

Blood was trickling down her chin and she felt it pool between her legs too. When Jon saw it, he smashed her head into a wall. As he let go, Alethia fell forward, catching herself with her hands. Her vision was already turning blurry, but she could barely make out Myrcella, white as a sheet.

 

“Run.” She croaked out, repeating the word as often as she could before his hands were on her again, closing in on her neck until black spots began to dance in her vision and Alethia knew she was going to die.

 

She looked up at the man doing this to her, and though his eyes were grey and his hair brown, the scornful pride he carried let her know that this wasn’t Jon. She refused to believe it, but by now, she couldn’t fight back and as darkness closed in on her, she knew that she had lost again.

 

***

 

The third time Alethia shrieked awake in a new environment, she only wanted to go to the place where Jon was long dead, where she would wake up in a manse in Pentos and eat with Brayden and boisterous Illyrio Mopatis.

 

But these walls were familiar, more than anything else. They were her new home, and Alethia’s eyes began to fill with tears as she wished desperately that whatever would happen next wouldn’t turn it into a nightmare too.

 

As a body next to her turned, Alethia shuffled away. It was Jon, who was slowly opening his eyes.

 

Three times the charm. Alethia thought, hoping that this would be the right Jon. Before he opened his, she quickly closed her eyes, rolling away from him. The remnants of the last dream were still fresh in her mind, and they scared her more than the Walkers, more than death, more than her pregnancy had. She didn’t want to sully her memories of Jon like this.

 

As she laid there, with closed eyes, the memories of reality began to fade while her dream started to become more realistic. Alethia let it happen. She would find a way out if she needed to.

 

His warm hand carefully touched her naked shoulder and Alethia wanted to wrench away from his grip.

 

“Al, we have to get up soon.” He whispered softly. Alethia didn’t budge, pretending to sleep. Jon’s hand stayed on her shoulder and every soft touch was such a stark contrast to the other man that Alethia felt her resolve melting. That had just been a nightmare.

 

She groaned and wriggled into the blankets, trying to find a warmer spot.

 

“I had a terrible dream.” She murmured, but it was already hazy in her mind.

 

“Do you want to tell me?” Jon asked, sitting up in the bed. Alethia put her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes again. Just for a little bit longer.

 

“Not really. It was horrible, but it was a dream.”

 

There were a few seconds of comfortable silence between them, before Alethia heard a quiet giggle coming from outside the room.

 

“What’s going on?” she asked, still tired.

 

“I told you we have to get up, my love.” Jon smiled. “I’d reckon that it’s Alyssa and Robb out there, as always.”

 

A few seconds later, Alethia heard a soft scratch on the ground and groggily got out of bed, crouching down to see a piece of parchment that had been slid under the door. She picked it up and unfolded it, only to be met with the most unrecognizable direwolf she had ever seen.

 

Alethia snorted at what had to be a children’s drawing, but handed it to Jon, who smiled brightly.

 

“Who d’ya think drew it?” Alethia asked as she tried to take in as much as she could. She needed to get a picture of what was going on.

 

“I’d say Alyssa.” He replied, walking over to a wall covered in bits of parchment and sticking it up between two equally hideous direwolves.

 

Afterwards, Jon helped Alethia braid her hair, placing a thin bronze circlet on her head last. As she caught her own face in the mirror, she was relieved to see the cut along her cheek back on her face, but she also noticed how much older she looked.

 

“Jon, remind me how old I am now?” she feigned with a sigh.

 

“26 going on 27.” Jon chuckled.

 

“We’re getting old.”

 

“Too old to eat breakfast in the Great Hall?” Jon teased, and Alethia jumped up, walking to the hall with him.

 

There, a few people were already eating, but it was mostly quiet, and Alethia gratefully accepted the bread and porridge from a servant. Their peace lasted about five seconds, before a young boy burst into the hall, running towards the dais.

 

An older girl followed him with an annoyed expression on her face as she sat down at the table, her dark blond hair in tangles.

 

“Lyanna scared me!” the boy accused, crossing his arms as he stared at the girl sitting across from him.

 

“Did not!” Lyanna replied, but as Alethia turned to pull out a chair for him, she saw her stick out her tongue.

 

“I saw that!” she warned, and Jon chuckled, much to her annoyance.

 

“Papa glaubt mir nie!” (Dad never believes me!) the boy complained in German, and now it was Jon’s turn to roll his eyes.

 

“I have no idea what you just said, but I’ll assume that it was about me.”

 

“He said that you never believe him.” Alethia replied, patting him on the head.

 

“Edd, you know that’s not true.” Jon said, and Alethia saw that he was only trying to eat his porridge. It was tempting to cackle at his misery.

 

So, these were probably her children. The oldest was Lyanna – blond hair, grey Stark eyes, Alethia could remember that. Then was Edd, and whether that was a nickname or his actual name she didn’t know, but Edd would suffice for now. Edd had dark brown hair and her green eyes. Who else was there?

 

Right, Alyssa and Robb.

 

“Where are Alyssa and Robb?” Alethia asked.

 

“Right here!” Sansa announced, holding two small children’s hands. I had twins. Holy hell.

 

Alyssa and Robb looked almost identical, with their brown hair and blue eyes that looked like they could have been Tully eyes, but as they came closer, Alethia saw the slight violet tinge in them.

 

Sansa sat down between them, and Alethia scarfed down her porridge, before helping Sansa with Robb like she would have done with her little brother, only that this was apparently her actual kid.

 

“When can I start training with Edd and Lyanna?” Robb suddenly whined, and Alethia looked to Jon, who gave her a look that told her this was a regular topic.

 

“When you turn six, as promised.” Jon assured.

 

“But we’re already four!” Alyssa joined in.

 

“Yeah, and I’m eight, so you don’t get to train with me.” Lyanna replied.

 

“And you won’t get to train at all if you keep pestering your siblings.” Alethia warned.

 

“So eine Scheiße.” (This is bullshit.) Lyanna mumbled under her breath, before standing up from the table and walking towards the benches were other people were eating, firmly tapping a girl with flaming red hair on the shoulder.

 

“I heard that!” Alethia called after her, but Lyanna ignored her, walking with the ginger girl.

 

Alethia couldn’t make out their conversation, but as they left the hall together and the girl waved to a man with ginger hair and a wide grin, Alethia knew that this was probably Tormund’s child or grandchild.

 

“You all have to finish your food before you get up.” Alethia said decidedly.

 

“When I’m eight, I’ll beat everyone in Winterfell with my sword.” Edd boasted, and Alethia couldn’t help but notice that he was very much not like either of his namesakes.

 

“You’ve still got two years to catch up until then.” Sansa teased lightly, and Edd gave a huff, before continuing to eat his porridge at a speed almost rivaling Alethia’s.

 

“Well, I want to be a baker, like Hot Pie so I can make you lemon cakes until your teeth fall out.” Alyssa announced happily, and Sansa’s smile turned into a grin so genuine it made Alethia melt.

 

Alethia listened to her children talk for a bit, while scanning the Great Hall. Next to Tormund sat Sandor, who looked grumpy but still seemed content with being there, while Edd, Satin and another man who seemed very close to Satin were sitting at another table.

 

Wylla was there too, practically on Lyanna Mormont’s lap and Alethia remembered that they were 20 and 18 now. While Wylla was smiling, as always, Lyanna darkly stared at anyone who looked into the general direction of Lady Manderly.

 

“Shireen and Rickon and their children are coming soon.” Jon announced. “We need to prepare Winterfell until then. If they bring Tyrion’s wine, Alethia will end up dancing on the tables.

 

“I do not dance on tables.” Alethia sniggered. “I’m the Queen in the North, after all.”

 

Sansa nodded along, but she looked like she was about to burst out laughing.

 

After breakfast, the day went by in a blur. In the afternoon, she and Jon watched as Lyanna and Edd trained in the yard, Sandor looking at their form with a typically grumpy face.

 

“We haven’t thought about names for the next one yet.” Jon said suddenly.

 

“The next one?”

 

“Our next kid. Still a strange thought for me. I never thought I’d be a father, and now this…” Jon trailed off. “All credit goes to my wonderful wife, of course.”

 

“It should.” Alethia agreed. “And for names, if it’s a boy, maybe we could call him Eric, after my little brother. It would sound a little bit like Edric.”

 

Jon nodded along, and Alethia thought that she would melt at his smile any second now. It had been a long time since she had seen him that happy, or alive, for that matter.

 

“For a girl, maybe Alethia.” Jon joked. “To give the credit where it’s due.”

 

Alethia lightly pushed his shoulder, causing him to laugh even more. “Please don’t.”

 

“Fine, if you won’t take that wonderful name, I’ll have to think a little bit longer.”

 

“How about Katharina?” Alethia suggested softly. Hardhome had been ten years ago, but the memories were ever-present in her mind. She hadn’t forgotten the other traveler’s sacrifice, and she saw her daughters every day, roaming Winterfell as Free Folk representatives.

 

“Not only for Karsi. Where I’m from, Katharina the Great was one of the best monarchs to ever live. It’s a strong name.”

 

Jon nodded. “A good one too.”

 

Later that day, when they were lying in bed, Alethia knew that she didn’t want to go back to Pentos after all. She knew that this was a dream, however much she tried to ignore it, but it was all she ever wanted. And these children that were hers here, they were perfect, and they made her believe she could be a good mother too.

 

Jon was here, Sansa was here, Wylla was alive and well, and she had four children that seemed really cool.

 

The ridiculous notion of staying awake so that she wouldn’t wake up somewhere else came into her mind.

 

“I don’t want to go.” Alethia whispered. “I want to stay here with you.”

 

Jon’s hand was on her face, his eyes closed as he lied next to her. “I know.” He replied.

 

“It’s not fair that we could have had this.” She complained.

 

“That night, in the Godswood, I could have tried to wait for you, Al. But I saw you lying on the ground, bleeding, and I hid you and fought him, the Night King, myself. The second I saw you there, I knew that only one of us would make it out alive. Had you sacrificed yourself for me, I would have been nothing. That sacrifice would have been nothing.”

 

“Don’t say that Jon. Not when it’s the same with me.”

 

“It’s not the same with you.” He said softly and in her mind, Alethia was screaming at him for being a liar. “You loved me when I was nothing and protected me when I had everything. I don’t know who decides the fates of people around here, but we weren’t meant to have each other in this life.”

 

“In this life?” Alethia asked hopefully.

 

“Al, I know what you’re thinking, but you have to promise me that you’ll keep on fighting. Don’t ever stop living because you wish I was there with you.”

 

The dream felt so real, but Jon’s words were shattering this reality, and he knew what was going on, but Alethia was selfish, and she wanted to stay regardless. Tears of frustration ran down her face as Jon held her close, and she felt safe in his embrace, but that only made it harder.

 

Alethia fought sleep as long as she could, if only to feel Jon hold her for a little longer, but eventually, it filled her like lead, and she began falling, away from the world she deserved and back into her own.

 

*******

 

When Alethia woke up this time, she knew it was over. She sat up in her bed in the warm room in Pentos, where white curtains softly swayed in the wind and the chirping of birds could be heard. It was as if she was experiencing the start of summer vacation.

 

She felt empty, all her tears spent in her dreams and waited until an enslaved woman came in, carrying whisps of beautiful clothes and guiding her into a bath. Alethia washed herself, even after long insistence from the slaves, the sponge tugging on her scars and removing the last remainders of his touch.

 

Stepping out of the bath, Alethia tried to find the determination to forget Jon and get on with her life, but as the women around her quickly dressed her and returned her weapons to her, she felt that he would never quite leave her.

 

Alethia knew she would only have the one child in her belly, not the five of her dream, and she was glad that it was only going to be them. She didn’t need another reminder of Jon. If this child came into the world looking nothing like him, that would make her grateful.

 

But knowing this world, they would be identical.

 

She hunched herself to breakfast, not listening as Illyrio entertained Brayden with wild tales that weren’t true, but as servants carried the breakfast inside, Alethia felt an unbidden smile worm itself onto her face.

 

Illyrio was a cheesemonger, yes, but she hadn’t expected this. Out of everything, this would have come to mind last. In front of her was a huge board with different assortments of cheese, olives, figs and dips, together with some smoked ham and bread that had been made for the Westerosis at the table.

 

My last headcanon in the world would have been that Pentos has charcuterie boards.

Notes:

As you could maybe tell, the dreams represented two of the outcomes Alethia dreaded most (having to kill Jon, Jon becoming a tyrant like AerysAegon, his possible father and Alethia letting the world of GoT win against her by it taking over her mind, becoming like Cersei) and her dream-ish version of how it should have ended. Dunno, I just kind of felt like writing that…

Chapter 74: Kinvara

Summary:

Brayden and Alethia arrive in the Bay of Dragons and meet another red priestess. Dany gives Alethia some advice on her future and Brayden gets to go home. Everyone is a whole lot happier than usually.

Notes:

After the dream chapter I got really angry at myself for killing Jon off lol. Don’t regret it, but defo feeling bad for Al. I might write an alternative ending if I have the time, I’m certainly feeling it rn.

Saying goodbye to Illyrio Mopatis was easier than leaving his charcuterie boards behind, but the Dothraki escort that had apparently been sent to guide them across the Dothraki Sea was impatiently standing outside the manse.

 

Alethia knew that they could already be on their way to Mereen if they had sailed from King’s Landing directly to Pentos, but she had wanted to see Braavos and also stab the fuck out of Jaqen H’ghar in case he ran across her path, so the travel time had taken longer.

 

The spearwife called Vrenna next to her, who was currently helping Brayden on his new horse provided by the Dothraki, was sweating buckets despite their new riding attire and Alethia felt seriously sorry for her.

 

Alyn and Calren and the rest of the guard seemed slightly better off, but still looked miserable and Alethia wondered how they would manage when they started crossing the Dothraki lands.

 

The crowd of Dothraki parted, and Alethia was suddenly face to face with Daario Naharis, who luckily had neither golden hair nor a blue beard, which at least Brayden would have laughed at.

 

Instead, show Daario gave her a critical once over and then smirked. “Lady Stark. Pleasure to meet you.”

 

“Naharis.” Alethia nodded. “I take it you’re guiding us across the Dothraki Sea?”

 

“Along with Rhaego here.” Daario said, patting the young man’s shoulder. “He’s got two wives back in Mereen, so he’s not too excited to be here.”

 

“I serve the blood of my blood.” Rhaego managed in broken Common, crossing his arms across his chest.

 

“Well, then we shouldn’t keep them waiting.” Brayden piped up. “You know, happy wife happy life.”

 

Daario stared at the boy for a second, before laughing. “This boy’s the wisest six-year-old I’ve ever met.”

 

“I’m eight.” Brayden corrected with an annoyed expression, staring down at Daario from his horse.

 

Half an hour later, Alethia found herself riding next to the man, Pentos becoming smaller as they rode farther into the wilderness.

 

“So, how is Daenerys doing?” she asked the sellsword.

 

Daario’s smirk only grew. “Oh she’s doing wonderful.” He replied cockily.

 

“Ew.” Alethia replied. “I meant politically.”

 

“Right. She’s concentrating on building a functioning infrastructure for the cities as well as a new economy and installing rulers around the Bay of Dragons. She named her scribe her hand and Grey Worm her Commander, instead of me.”

 

“And what title are you stuck with now?” Alethia asked.

 

“None for now. I am humbly serving my queen.”

 

“Alright, that’s enough with the sex jokes for now.”

 

“I’m taking a break from fighting. Daenerys wants to take the other slave cities next; she wants me to be ready then. Braavos has joined some of our efforts, and after we deliver you back to Pentos in a few weeks, I’ll be travelling on until I reach the city.”

 

“Missandei is her hand?”

 

“Yes, that’s her name.” Daario snapped, slightly annoyed.

 

Alethia smiled to herself, remembering the young girl in Winterfell, following Dany around like a shadow. She hadn’t talked to her much, but if she was anything like her fictional version, she’d make a good hand.

 

“Come on now, Naharis. I’ve got a red priestess to deal with.”

 

***

 

Mereen’s walls were much greater than those of any city in Westeros, but as Alethia saw the harpies that held them up, she was reminded of the price that had been paid for them.

 

The Dothraki led them inside, where it was time to dismount the horses and make the rest of the way on foot. Almost immediately, Alethia and Brayden were met with Varys’ simpering, and no doubt fake, demeanor.

 

“Lady Stark.” He greeted carefully. “Lord Collins.”

 

It was still strange for Alethia to be addressed as ‘Lady Stark’, but she reasoned that that was her title, her name now. She had married Jon after all.

 

“Lord Varys. Is Kinvara currently in Mereen?” Alethia asked impatiently. It wasn’t so much that she wanted Brayden gone, but she didn’t want to keep him away from his family either. He had been in this world for a month now, and American authorities moved fast in missing persons cases. Alethia didn’t know how much her world had progressed in the time she had been absent, but if it was still the same, the search for Brayden would sadly be ‘active’ by now, but not actually ongoing.

 

“Yes, the priestess has been preparing the ritual since she heard of Lord Collin’s arrival. He can leave today.” Varys answered patiently.

 

“I’m not a Lord.” Brayden laughed. “I’m just me.”

 

His manner reminded Alethia of herself, and she wished she could say that she wasn’t a Lady but – by all accounts – she was at this point.

 

Varys didn’t reply, instead choosing to lead the group of soldiers up towards the great pyramid. Vrenna stared at it in awe, and Alethia smiled at the Targaryen banner flying over it in the wind, but a few of the older Stark soldiers seemed uneasy at the sight.

 

“Thank you for getting me home.” Brayden told her suddenly.

 

“It’s nothing. You don’t deserve to be stuck here.”

 

After about 20 minutes of walking, the escort finally made it to the great pyramid, and Varys led Alethia and Brayden directly into the courtroom. Daenerys acknowledged their presence as they entered but continued talking to the man at the bottom of the steps in Valyrian.

 

After he had disappeared from the throne room, Daenerys nodded to Alethia.

 

“Lady Stark, welcome to Mereen. Kinvara is waiting for you a few halls down. I hope your delegation will be joining me for dinner.”

 

“Of course, your Grace.” Alethia nodded, before following Varys into yet another room. The man seemed uncomfortable at the presence of the red priestess and left as soon as Brayden and Alethia were inside.

 

“Kinvara.” Alethia greeted.

 

“Alethia of the Houses Stahl and Stark. I was wondering when we would meet.” Kinvara said with a smile. “And Brayden Collins. You are the little raven that’s going to your world today, if the Lord of Light allows it.”

 

“He will.” Alethia said through gritted teeth.

 

Kinvara didn’t respond, but instead inclined her head ever so slightly. Unlike Melisandre, she did not have an air of arrogance surrounding her, but her calmness exuded power, and Alethia knew that she was not afraid of her. Alethia did not hold sway over Kinvara, and that scared her.

 

“I will begin the ritual.” She simply announced, turning to the fire. Brayden’s eyes grew wide as he saw the flames flicker, but Alethia crouched down to his level of sight, making him look at her.

 

“Listen, Brayden. When you come home, there might be some confusion as to where you came from. You’re old enough to know that no one will believe you in New York, except maybe one person.”

 

Brayden nodded, his attention now on her again.

 

“I don’t know what you can tell them what happened, but the easiest thing would just be is saying that you forgot. There’s one more thing Brayden. I need you to do me a favor. There’s a woman called Morgan Aydin. I don’t know how or where to find her but promise me you’ll try.”

 

“I promise.” Brayden said, his voice hushed but earnest.

 

“She knows what you’ve gone through, and you can tell her the truth, but I also need you to deliver a message to her, okay? Tell her that we won, and that she doesn’t have to feel guilty, or worry about me or Obara. Can you do that?”

 

“I think so.” He replied.

 

Just in that moment, Kinvara piped up. “The gateway is ready, but it’ll close soon.”

 

“Go home, Brayden.” Alethia whispered, her voice shaking. Brayden looked at the portal in the flames, eyes full of unsurety, and then back at Alethia. He made a few steps towards the fire, before turning back around, and running towards her. He hugged Alethia tightly.

 

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

 

“Thank you for saving my life, Brayden.” Alethia choked out, smiling at the boy. Despite being only eight, Brayden seemed to understand. He nodded, and walked towards the fire, this time without turning back.

 

Alethia stood frozen in place until the portal disappeared. She could’ve made it through, if she had sprinted towards it, or pressed in directly after Brayden, but Alethia knew she had to stay. Not only for herself, but also the child who she would never be able to tell about their father in all earnesty if she returned.

 

By the time Alethia turned her eyes from the fire, Kinvara had left the room, so she lied down on the cool stone tiles, closing her eyes and trying to get her thoughts in order.

 

***

 

When Alethia woke up from her accidental nap, her shoulders and back felt stiff from lying on the ground for so long, and as she walked towards the door, she heard her spine crack at least three times.

 

She had to walk for a while, before Calren found her.

 

“We were searching for you, my lady.” He said, real worry in his tone.

 

“I, uh, fell asleep.” Alethia admitted sheepishly. “Sorry.”

 

“Brayden Collins?” he asked.


“Back home, hopefully.” Alethia sighed.

“Aye, he was a good boy.” Alyn agreed, basically popping up out of nowhere.

 

“What’s the time?” Alethia asked.

 

“Almost time for dinner, my lady.” Alyn replied. “We can show you to your quarters.”

 

“That would be nice.” Alethia nodded.

 

To her surprise, Daenerys waved her over to a table set for two. Ser Barristan, who was miraculously still alive, even after the Long Night, stood guard, while Missandei was somewhere else. The rest of Alethia’s and Dany’s retainers were eating below them at their own tables.

 

Alethia spotted Obara, who was chatting with a Mereneese noblewoman, at least that was what she gathered from her outfit. Her own dress was almost as pretty as those Daenerys had worn in season 5, with a black leather corset that had gold embroidery and little gold plates and a flowy black skirt.

 

“Do you like the dress?” Dany asked just in that moment.

 

“Yeah. I love it, actually. It’s really cool, with the corset at the top and the skirt.” Alethia replied. Daenerys smiled to herself and Alethia got the hint that Daenerys had invested some thought into the clothes that had been stored in her guest room.

 

“I hope it’s not digging into your stomach.”

 

“It’s fine, really.” Alethia smiled.

 

“I didn’t know you were pregnant when you left.” Daenerys replied. “I’m sure Jon Snow would have been very happy.”

 

“Ah. Yeah, I think so too.” Alethia said, scratching her head.

 

Daenerys raised her eyebrows at Alethia’s response, as if she knew exactly what Alethia was thinking.

“Quite ironic, that my dragons will remain to be my only children, and you are carrying a child that wasn’t intended to be yours.”

 

“Whoever is writing our fates is laughing their ass of.” Alethia responded dryly.

 

“Did the boy make it home?” Dany asked next, taking a sip from her cup.

“Yeah, he’s back in New York by now, hopefully.”

 

“Why don’t you go back home, Alethia? You’ve had two opportunities, from what I’ve heard, and yet, you decide to stay. Why?”

 

“I don’t know if I could return. My world, it moves very quickly, and at the first opportunity, Jon was there and the lives of all humans in this world at stake. This time, I don’t know.” Alethia paused, taking a bite from her food.

 

“I guess I just didn’t want to go back home pregnant, and then have a child whom I could never tell about their father. They deserve to know that Jon was a hero, not to think that their father is a coward that ran off to nowhere, and even if I don’t feel ready for being a mother, I’d rather be one here, where there are people who care for me, than back home.”

 

“You know, when I was pregnant, I was so proud, and I thought my child would one day rule the world. Instead I’m here with three dragons, no husband and cities that are at war with each other.” Daenerys slowly replied. “But now, I have Missandei, and Irri and Jhiqui and all my other friends and advisors. I’m not sure if I’d want it any other way.”

 

Alethia smiled at that. “It’s good to hear that you’re happy where you are now, Daenerys. You deserve it.”

 

“So do you, Alethia. You carry grief with you everywhere you go since he’s died, but you still take in those who need you. If you stay that way, your child will have everything they could have asked for.”

 

“You sure? I don’t feel like I’ll be any good as a mother.”

 

At those words, Daenerys actually laughed, and she needed a moment before she spoke again. “Alethia, how can you be so unsure of yourself? You single-handedly changed the fate of so many people for the better, yet you can’t believe you can do it for your child too? Why? Because this is different?”

 

“It is!” Alethia insisted, but she could feel her resolve crumbling.

 

“It’s not. You’ll teach them to fight like you taught Shireen, you’ll teach them war strategies like the ones you discussed with Jon, I’m sure Sansa Stark will be more than happy to teach them politics, and if they turn out anything like you, the heir of the North will be good.”

 

“I- Thank you.” Alethia stuttered out.

 

***

 

Later that evening, Alethia found herself going over Dany’s words over and over again, lying in bed, unable to sleep. Finally, after what felt like hours, she got out of bed and walked onto the balcony.

 

The heat from earlier that day had disappeared, leaving the night cool and dry as Alethia stared out into the darkness.

 

Below her, the streets of Mereen were dimly lit, Unsullied patrolling, Mereenese cajoling as they came home from brothels or other activities. If she closed her eyes, Alethia could almost pretend that she was back in her own world, but the Valyrian was too harsh, too strange.

 

Instead, she stared up at the night sky, at constellations that were strange to her. Earlier that day, Daario had told her that the Great Pyramid’s balconies pointed to the North, and Alethia knew that miles and miles from here, Sansa was sitting in Winterfell, staying up over a letter from a stuck-up lord.

 

The thought made her smile, and Alethia caught herself yearning for Winterfell, where the halls were familiar, and guards didn’t have to follow her all the time. She knew that when she came home, Sansa would meet her in the yard with all propriety, only to hug her tightly as soon as they were in her solar.

 

Then, it would be her braiding Alethia’s hair again, smiling over stupid jokes and coming to her for advice, talk for hours in the glass gardens, and by everything, Alethia could already roll her eyes at the way Sansa would fuss over her belly. She would be so excited for whatever child Alethia would pop out, and she knew that Sansa would love them like her own.

 

And then, it hit Alethia, and the sensation made her shudder, and her heart beat a little faster. Of course she hadn’t noticed before, she was so busy getting over Jon that she didn’t realize how much she admired Sansa, how much she cared for.

 

Alethia knew that if someone had been there to listen, she could’ve prattled on about Sansa for hours and hours, and even now, where Winterfell was so far away, it felt like the Queen in the North was here with her giving her words of advice about politics only to stumble when it came to her own thoughts and feelings, just like Alethia.

 

Of course it had to be her. Alethia thought, and she wanted to be angry at that, but she found that she couldn’t be bitter, or resent herself. She had spent so much time and energy on doing so over Jon’s death that there was nothing left now.

 

She was conflicted, of course. Yes, she still loved Jon, but he was gone. She always would love him, but that love had been intense, and full and always there, it had made her ache and yearn and dizzy with feelings.

 

With Sansa, it was different. The feeling of betrayal was still a bittersweet aftertaste, but the sparks had ignited a smaller flame that had spread through Alethia slowly, filling her with comfort until it was too late to quell it, but she wasn’t angry at that at all. She would tell Sansa when she came home, Alethia decided then.

Notes:

Alethia’s dress at dinner: https://agameofclothes.tumblr.com/post/145989458418/paco-rabanne

Chapter 75: Lemon Cakes

Summary:

Back in Winterfell, Alethia is abt to pop, literally. She still hates the thought of giving birth, but Sansa’s trying her best to keep Al well fed with lemon cakes.

Notes:

This is literally just fluff and romance. There is a slight time skip of 4 ½ months, ~3 ½ months of which Alethia has been back in Winterfell. Scene where she confesses feelings is in the very beginning though.

As soon as the door of the solar shut behind Sansa, she pounced on Alethia, as predicted. And for the first time, Alethia didn’t freeze, hugging her back tightly instead. Sansa lingered a little too long, but Alethia didn’t mind, the scent of winter roses making a home around them.

 

“I missed you.” Sansa admitted openly, and there was no lie or deception in her eyes.

“I missed you too, Sansa. So much.” Alethia blurted out. Sansa walked around her, pulling out a chair for Alethia to sit on. With almost 5 months of pregnancy, the belly was starting to annoy her, and Sansa seemed to know exactly what to do to help.

 

“I need to tell you something.” Sansa said suddenly, and Alethia felt like the built-up feelings between both of them were like an avalanche that was about to come to wash over them.

 

“Me too.” Alethia replied, wearing a slight smile. Sansa, always patient, nodded, waiting for Alethia to speak.

Alethia took a deep breath. “Being away from Winterfell, in Mereen and then coming back, it made me realize something. I was a huge idiot for not noticing earlier, but it’s always the same with me. I really like you, Sansa Stark. And not just as a friend, but as someone I want to love. You’re patient, and beautiful, and brave and so, so strong. You’re brilliant in every way.”

 

At the end of her confession, Alethia felt silly, but Sansa’s eyes were wide, and then, a smile broke out on her face.

 

“I wanted to say the exact same thing.” She said finally.

 

“Great, seems like neither of us is very original in their love confession.” Alethia mumbled, so caught up in being embarrassed for her own words that she almost didn’t notice Sansa’s hand on her check.

 

Alethia looked up at clear blue eyes that held so many emotions that they were beyond naming, hiding everything and nothing.

 

“I want to kiss you. Badly.” Sansa whispered hoarsely, and Alethia knew that she was about to cry. She was too choked up to reply herself, so she only nodded, and let Sansa lean down.

 

Her kiss was clumsy, unpracticed, but it was honest, and it felt like a warm summer breeze washing over Alethia.

 

“I really like you too Alethia Stahl.” Sansa replied after a while, smiling brightly. Her cheeks were flushed such a bright red that it was almost as saturated as her hair.

 

***

 

More than three months later, Sansa had moved Alethia’s chambers right next to hers, away from those she used to share with Jon, and Alethia couldn’t have been more grateful for that. She needed away from the memories that would otherwise suffocate her.

 

Officially, Alethia was Sansa’s confidante and guard, but in truth, the two of them wanted to be close to each other. Sansa wasn’t ready for third base quite yet, and Alethia understood that, only going into the redhead’s bedroom to wake Sansa from nightmares occasionally.

 

The fact that Sansa asked Alethia to stay afterwards was a secret between them, and maybe Ghost. Speaking of which, the direwolf was loyal to Alethia’s child as ever, only straying from her side when Sansa needed him.

 

Alethia found herself waddling to the ramparts almost automatically, looking out into the distance. She tried to think about her first days at Winterfell less, tried to live more in the present than the past, but she couldn’t help remembering how she had ridden out all those years ago, to see the deserter be beheaded, where her greatest worry had been falling off a horse and embarrassing herself.

 

She didn’t miss those times as much anymore. Alethia was content with where she was now, even if it was nothing like she had imagined. Sometimes, when she stood on the ramparts, she felt the loneliness creeping in, trying to nest in her bones.

 

The sisters were all gone, distributed across Westeros and even Essos. Tormund was in the Gift, with the other wildings, Shireen in King’s Landing, Edd in the Vale and Satin in Oldtown.

 

Alethia shook herself, walking towards the Great Hall. Sansa was there to keep her company. Today was special, Alethia remembered. The snowstorms had let off long enough for the builders of Winterfell to make a small memorial in the cemetery of the Seven.

 

They didn’t know who it was for, but Sansa and Alethia did. As Sansa saw her, she stood up from her chair at the dais and put on her winter cloak, following Alethia outside wordlessly. Ghost padded along, silent as ever.

 

Standing in front of the memorial felt strange, unreal even.

 

“They would have been proud of us.” Alethia said, staring at the blank stone slate, decorated with vines and leaves at the sides. Memories of summer.

 

“For Ros and Shae.” Sansa replied quietly.

 

“For Grenn and Pyp.” Alethia added. “Thank you, for taking care of us.”

 

I wish you could have been here with me through it all. She thought.

 

***

 

When Alethia felt a certain someone shake at her shoulder, she tried to swat them off grumpily, but Sansa was being so insistent that she finally opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder.

 

“What?” she groaned grumpily.

 

“There’s been a delivery from King’s Landing. I had Martha make Lemon Cakes!”

 

As quickly as she could manage, Alethia sat up, watching Sansa reveal a platter with at least four lemon cakes on it. Her stomach growled loudly as the smell wafted through the room.

 

“This kid’s appetite will know no bounds for those damned things.”

 

Sansa giggled in response, her face lighting up with a smile as she took a cake from the platter quickly. Alethia followed suit, knowing that the cakes would be gone in half an hour. As she stuffed herself with lemon cakes, Alethia leaned back into the pillows, closing her eyes in contentment.

 

“I made you a new dress. The other one’s about to burst each time you wear it, so I thought you might want something that’s a little less constricting.” Sansa told her.

 

“I’m sure it’s perfect.” Alethia replied tiredly. “But I hate the fact that I look like a balloon.”

 

“Well, both Gally and Maester Wolkan say it’s normal.” Sansa responded with a shrug.

 

“Doesn’t mean I have to like the idea of giving birth.”

 

“Every woman is afraid of that Alethia, but I know that you will be okay. You’re the strongest person I know.”

 

“Says you.” Alethia teased.

 

After they finished the lemon cakes, Alethia and Sansa walked back to the Great Hall. Sansa had already started court while Alethia was taking her nap, and many Lords and Ladies were gathered in the Hall, waiting impatiently for Sansa to show up.

 

When she did, she took her seat on the throne like it was second nature, Alethia sinking down on a less majestic, simple chair next to her. Maester Wolkan stood nearby, in case Sansa needed anything. The first people to come forward were Ned Umber and Alys Karstark.

 

“Your Grace.” Ned Umber began. “My lady. We seek your blessing, for our marriage.”

 

Alys nodded along as Ned spoke. Alethia still remembered them from before the long Night, talking and training for hours on end. Sansa glanced over to Alethia shortly, and then smiled.

 

“You have my blessing, Lord Umber.”

 

“And mine.” Alethia agreed. “If both of you are happy with the union, then no one shall stand in the way of it.”

 

The pair grinned so brightly Alethia felt it spread to her, but she didn’t mind.

 

A number of people that Alethia did not know followed, until finally, the crowd parted for a young girl with a familiar bitter expression.

 

“Lady Mormont.” Sansa greeted. “What brings you to Winterfell?”

 

“War. Or rather, the aftermath of it.” Lyanna pressed out in her usual disdainful manner. Alethia knew that Wylla’s death had taken a great toll on the girl. After the Long Night, she had left with what was left of her fighters without another word. It could have been taken as a slight, but Alethia knew the truth of it.

 

“What do you need?” Sansa asked. Lyanna ignored her, turning to Alethia instead.

 

“You vowed to never fight again and gave your sword to Queen Shireen Baratheon. That was a good choice, but I wonder, will you give my family heirloom to some girl, because she deserves it? Will you throw it away like dirt?”

 

At her harsh words, whispers went through the people gathered. As well as she could, Alethia straightened herself out and met Lyanna’s burning gaze.

 

“No. As you have probably guessed, I am with child. I intend on giving them Longclaw. It was their father’s sword, so it’s only right. If you want it back, I will have to disappoint you. Lord Commander Mormont gave it to Jon, and when he died, that sword became my child’s sword, by all rights.”

 

“Good to know.” Lyanna said, seemingly satisfied. “Now, for the less savory part of my visit. When we fought against the Boltons, House Mormont had 60 capable fighters. That number was reduced to 47, and after the Long Night, 12 men and women remain to me. 3 of them are sick or injured. It’s not enough.”

 

Under Lyanna’s prideful façade, Alethia saw the fear and desperation. She was small, and young, but she carried the responsibility of the people of Bear Island on her shoulders.

 

“What do you need?” Sansa asked her.

 

“I need men, a new Maester, as well as food and gold to rebuild.” Lyanna replied, straightforward. There was no hidden message in her words, no sugarcoating. Under other circumstances, this would have been admitting her weakness, but now, Lyanna was in just as desperate a situation as everyone else.

 

“We can spare you 65 men, and Maester Wolkan will write to the citadel. There’s been a food delivery from the Reach this morning, and I will write to Queen Shireen myself, to ensure that the people of Bear Island will come out of this winter strong. As for gold, we will have to see what we can do.” Sansa replied.

 

“If you’d like, I’ll write to the Free Folk in the Gift. A few of the tribes don’t get along, and there’s a delegation of Thenns that hate the Men of the Frozen Shore, most of them warriors.”

 

Lyanna’s mouth was a thin line, and Alethia knew that she did not want the Free Folk on her lands, but the Men of the Frozen Shore had raided Bear Island, and if the Thenns hated them…

 

“I’ll consider your offer.” Lyanna said finally. “Congratulations on your pregnancy.” She added, more as an afterthought than anything else.

 

Luckily, Lyanna was one of the last nobles, and as a Lord with the trivial matter of whether or not there should be a hectare more on his land came to Sansa, Alethia slipped away to the rookery.

 

She held close correspondence with both Shireen and Tyrion, in order to keep the North connected with the other six Kingdoms, and she knew that Sansa did the same with Rickon. And indeed, when she saw the ravens with scrolls at their feet, one of them held the royal sigil, and Alethia removed the letter. Staying in the rookery, Alethia opened the scroll.

 

Dear Al,

I’ve sent another delivery of food from the Westerlands up North, just in case the delivery from the Reach wasn’t enough.

Alright, bad news first: a few of my nobles are quarrelling over the way I’ve decided to use the empty keeps around King’s Landing. They want me to give them the land instead of using them as keeps for those that served me well after I became queen. Any advice?

The good news is, with the help of Sam, I’ve been able to push through a decree for female Maesters. It’ll take three more years before the citadel will allow any woman to come in, and the first women to forge their chain will only be allowed to do so in ten, but it’s more than I expected.

I hope that you, Sansa and the baby are doing alright. I’m quite busy as of now, but I would love to visit you someday, and see how Winterfell is doing. The cold in King’s Landing is neither comparable to Dragonstone, nor Winterfell, and I can’t imagine how warm summer will be.

Rickon sends his regards too,

Love,
Shireen.

 

Alethia scribbled her response on the back of the scroll, before feeding the raven and reattaching the message. The raven seemed almost angry at that, and the fact that he had to fly right back, but Alethia waited for a while, until, finally, he took off into the South.

 

She stared after him for a while, until Alethia heard quiet footsteps followed by the drag of a dress coming up the stairs. Turning around, she saw Sansa standing in the doorway, tired, but seemingly satisfied.

 

“Did everything go okay?” Alethia asked.

 

“Yeah, the Lord finally realized that an acre more or less won’t make a difference.”

 

Alethia smiled, hooking her arm under Sansa’s as the woman led her down to the Great Hall, where the smell of soup and pot-roast filled her nose. It was comforting, and as Alethia sat down at the dais, staring over all the people gathered, she felt her new normal settling in, making her feel safe.

 

She smiled at Sansa, who seemed to understand. Finally, Alethia had a real home.

 

Notes:

Yes, Alethia moved on from Jon relatively quickly, but she definitely still has feelings for and abt him, but remember that she’s technically still a teen, and has very bad ways of coping with her grief.

Chapter 76: No <3

Summary:

The baby is here! We’re all so excited (except Al).

Notes:

TW: mentions of birth (not described bc I refuse). I decided that Al won’t have PPD. I know that it would probably be realistic, but I can’t do that to her too.

Her first thought was This was worse than getting turned into a kebab. Only to be followed by Holy fucking shit that is my baby that was in my stomach??? What??? As Gally walked toward her, placing a bundle in her arms.

 

The baby seemed tiny, red with a scrunched-up face, screaming at Alethia like no tomorrow.

“You have a healthy baby boy.” Gally told her proudly. Sansa, who had stayed the entire time, finished shaking her bloodless and tightly gripped hand and leaned over the baby.

 

“He’s so cute.” Sansa exclaimed, a sigh leaving her. Alethia snorted.

 

“This dude is one ugly baby.”

 

Glancing over to Gally, Alethia saw her trying to keep in a laugh. Sansa pulled a chair to the bedside and sat next to Alethia, her eyes never leaving the baby in Alethia’s arms. Even though Alethia thought she had never wanted children, she felt herself almost automatically softly touching the brown fuzz on the boy’s head.

 

“What’s his name?” Sansa asked softly after the baby had stopped screaming.

 

“Edd.” Alethia replied. “After Eddard Stark, who took me in, and Edd in the Vale.”

 

“Edd Stark.” Sansa repeated. “My nephew.”

 

Alethia looked at her. “You should help me raise him, like he is your own.”

 

Sansa stared back, stuttering for at least half a minute before responding. “It would be my honor.”

 

***

 

A few weeks later, Edd Stark had opened his eyes and stared at everyone who would entertain him, and that entailed the entire population of Winterfell. From Martha and her children, who waved at him every time they saw him, to every noble who visited, Edd was the center point of attention in the North.

 

Alethia didn’t mind, only grumpily swatting away hands that came too close. When a delegation of Free Folk came from the North, arriving almost simultaneously with three riders from the South, Alethia saw a ginger head of hair and sighed. This was going to be interesting.

 

The three riders from the South turned out to be Dolores Edd, Satin, and Mya Stone, who had come all the way from Storm’s End, where she had been visiting her brother.

 

“Where’s the little one?” Tormund roared as he walked into the Great Hall, smiling as he spotted Alethia talking to Sansa. She turned to meet him, holding Edd towards him for a minute.

 

“Just as little as his father.” Tormund decided, before leaning towards Alethia conspiratorially. “You should feed him Goat’s Milk. Not as good as giant’s milk, but it comes close.”

 

“I’ll consider it.” Alethia replied, eyebrows raised. Edd was currently sleeping, but she had no doubt that he would wake up in a few minutes and either be in his attention-seeking Leo mood, or scream his head off, like he enjoyed doing every night, much to her chagrin.

 

A few minutes later, Edd, Satin and Mya came into the Hall. While Mya cooed over the other Edd for a few seconds and Satin talked to Alethia for a while, Edd kept his distance, as if a baby would bite his head off.

 

“You’ve seen White Walkers and dragons but stay back from babies?” Alethia asked him.

 

“Heard that mothers can turn into real beasts over their children.” He replied sarcastically.

 

“Well Edd, I promise I won’t shapeshift to eat you for now.” Alethia snorted. Edd took exactly half a step forward and then stayed put in front of the baby, still an arm’s length between them.

 

“What’s his name?” he asked finally.

 

“Edd.” Alethia replied smugly.

 

“Very funny.” Edd said dryly. When Alethia stayed silent, his eyes widened. “You’re not joking?”

 

“Nu-uh. Named him after his grandfather, and my friend.”

 

And then, Edd reacted in the strangest way thinkable. First, he made a sound like a choking walrus, before he promptly burst out into tears, wildly gesturing to Satin, pointing at the baby and himself. Alethia’s eyes widened in surprise, while poor Satin had to awkwardly pat Edd’s back.

 

Tormund came back at the sound of crying, looking ready to take on any evil soldiers, but stopped in his tracks as he saw that it wasn’t Alethia or the baby, but Edd crying. In the time Alethia had talked to Satin, he had taken substantial amounts of ale and Goat’s milk and was a little unstable on his feet.

 

“Wha’s going on?” he asked, slurring his words.

 

“Are you drunk?” Alethia asked.

 

“It’s a baby! We have to celebrate! Why’s Edd crying?” Tormund replied, his hand patting Edd so strongly that they both almost went to their knees. The sight was truly comical.

 

Between sobs, Edd managed to get a full sentence out. “She named her-, -her baby after me!” Edd exclaimed. Tormund’s eyes widened like those of a comic character, before he too burst into tears.

 

Alethia stared at Satin in confusion, who only shrugged. After it became clear that they would be crying for a while, Satin, Mya and Alethia left Edd and Tormund alone and sat down at a table to eat.

 

Sansa joined them after a while, taking Edd off of Alethia’s arms. To Alethia’s annoyance, Sansa was his current favorite, despite the fact that she had been the one to pop him out. He opened his eyes at his second mom and when Alethia leaned over to talk to Sansa, he raised a chubby fist with a middle finger that had to be fully intentional.

 

“You son of a-“ Alethia began under her breath, staring into violet-blue eyes with an annoyed expression, and her son had the audacity to laugh at her. She shook her head and turned to look for Edd and Tormund.

 

The two of them had calmed down enough to walk towards the table in the Great Hall and sit down with the others, but there were still occasional sniffles coming from Tormund.

 

“The mighty Tormund Giantsbane, reduced to a weeping baby at the sight of a newborn.” Alethia mused, and Tormund didn’t even glare at her.

 

“I wish you could have another baby to name after me.” He sniffled instead. “They would be the fiercest warrior in all the world, and I’d teach them to fight.” Then, he let out a signature laugh, sitting down next to Alethia and putting a heavy hand on her shoulder.

 

Sitting there, with all her friends, Alethia felt warmth flood her. “It’s good that you’ve all returned to Winterfell. I missed my friends.”

 

Mya Stone lowered her eyes, and from years of knowing Jon, Alethia could guess that she felt excluded from that statement, not only because they hadn’t talked much, but because of her surname.

 

“You too Mya. I wanted to ask, how are Gendry and Arya doing in Storm’s End?”

 

“They are betrothed now, I believe. I sparred with Lady Arya quite often, but my half-brother was often preoccupied. He is still learning about the duties of a Lord.” Mya answered quietly. Alethia wanted to grind her teeth at the slowness and awkwardness of the conversation. Sansa had attempted to teach her more about courtesies, and while Alethia was improving, if she was met with someone equally as awkward, the situation usually turned out quite hopeless.

 

“That’s good. Mya, do you want to stay at Winterfell for a while? You served in the Vale, right?”

 

“Yes, I took people up and down the mountains. I don’t think Winterfell is the right place for me, with all due respect, my Lady.”

 

“Call me Alethia.” She corrected softly.

 

“Well, even though your son is very sweet, I’d rather return to Storm’s End. I’ve made a life of sorts there, and it’s quite nice.”

 

Alethia nodded in understanding. “Still, if you want, you’ll always be welcome here.”

 

She made a mental note to write a letter to Shireen. The woman across from her deserved to be legitimized, and perhaps receive her own small keep in the Vale, where she had worked her ass off for years.

 

As a few servants carried platters of food into the hall, Alethia’s stomach grumbled, and she glanced to Sansa.

 

“Are we having lemon cakes again?” she asked, and Sansa nodded with a bright smile.

 

***

 

A few days later, when the Free Folk had left for the Gift and Edd and Mya made to return to the Vale and the Stormlands, Alethia found herself taking up duties around Winterfell apart from being Sansa’s emotional support.

 

She enjoyed being in the courtyard, training the guards of Winterfell and sometimes even Sansa, somewhere in the Old Keep, and Alethia wanted to get back in shape. Even though she was supposed to keep it professional, she couldn’t help but snort at Alyn being put on his back for the third time that day. Jocey, a woman from Bear Island that had stayed behind after the Long Night, was one of the best in Winterfell, and it was almost impossible to beat her when she had her axe. It didn’t help that Alyn had a thing for her.

 

“Alyn, come over here. Jocey, you can go against Calren.”

 

Alyn trudged over to Alethia with hunched shoulders and a sullen expression on his face, but Al doubted that it came from being beat by Jocey.

 

“My lady?” he asked.

 

“You need to keep your sword up. Her axe can hook around the edges of shields and just rip them off your hands, basically, but it lacks reach. You need to get under her defense and get your sword against her throat before she can do anything else.”

 

Alyn nodded and made to go back where the rest of the guards were training.

 

“And Alyn?” Alethia called. The man looked back, his sword sinking towards the ground. Alethia made a few steps to stand right in front of him. She didn’t want to embarrass Alyn.

 

“You should make a move on her before another man does. She’s into you too, but if you wait any longer, someone else might ask.”

 

Alyn almost rolled his eyes then but nodded through his obvious blush and trudged back to the drilling guards. Almost, Alethia didn’t notice Calren creeping up behind her.

 

“What is it?” she asked, turning around. Calren was wearing his intolerable smirk again, and Alethia knew she was in for trouble.

 

“Poor Alyn, following Jocey around like a lost dog and you telling him to grow some balls, my lady.”

 

“I did not tell him to grow a pair.” Alethia corrected softly, glancing over to the guards.

 

“Well, something along those lines, my lady.” Calren smirked. “Though I have to agree.”

 

“If you’re going to be a little shit while talking to me, you might as well drop the ‘my lady’, Calren.”

 

“Of course, my lady.” Calren replied, and Alethia elbowed him.

 

“You seem like a nice guy, Calren. Please don’t make me regret naming you my personal guard in Pentos.”

 

Calren only laughed, and Alethia let him. She knew that he had stepped over the bullshit line of respect for nobles a long time ago, but his friendship was refreshing. He was her age and hadn’t been involved in all the embarrassing periods of her life. Sure, Edd and Tormund were nice, but they were years older, and Sansa was basically her girlfriend. She needed someone outside of them.

 

“Calren.” Alethia called.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Can you find Sansa and Edd?

 

“Of course.” Calren paused as he saw Maester Wolkan walk past. “My lady.”

 

And then, her apparently new friend was off. Alethia knew that he was wearing his extremely annoying grin again, but this time, she didn’t mind.

 

Alethia fled under a roof to shelter from the snow-rain, where Sansa joined her a few minutes later. The Queen of the North looked quite disgruntled at the nasty weather, and Alethia’s son seemed to agree.

 

“I’d hoped that he would inherit some sort of northern resistance against the cold.” Alethia sighed.

 

“You don’t inherit that; you just learn to endure it.” Sansa chattered. She handed Alethia Edd, who took him carefully. She never felt like holding a baby was what she was meant to do, and Alethia hoped that he would grow a little bit older soon. Maybe then, he would be easier to talk to.

 

Still, she felt herself smiling as she looked at Edd, who had his father’s hair and someone else’s violet eyes, that had turned gray, hiding his possible heritage a little better. But Alethia saw her own features in the way his nose had a small bump, and his face was not as long as Jon’s, but rather Alethia’s oval features, and her high forehead.

 

“I never thought I’d have a baby and love it so much.” She sighed to Sansa, who only laughed at Alethia’s sappiness.

“Of course you love him, he’s your son.”

 

“I know- I just,” Alethia paused, thinking back to her parents. Jon had known that she hadn’t had the best relationship with them, and so had Sansa, but Alethia had never really talked to either of them about it, only that she didn’t want to fuck up like them. She had blocked out most of the memories that she had with them when she came to Westeros. Alethia had had more important things to think about.

 

Now that she tried to remember, all of the memories blurred together a little bit, but Alethia remembered the emotional neglect, her father just leaving, her mother heaving the responsibility over her little brother on her, how she had to raise first herself, then him, and then take care of her mother.

 

“Alethia?” Sansa asked softly.

 

“Right. I just didn’t think I’d do a good job.”

 

Sansa’s eyebrows drew together for a second, before she glanced around and conjured up her mask, hiding her emotions.

“You’re a good mother Alethia. You won’t make him unhappy; I promise.”

 

“I believe you.” Alethia laughed. “But fuck, don’t do that thing with your face, it’s fucking terrifying.”

 

Sansa laughed too, looking to the ground before smiling at Alethia with a brightness she always managed to find somehow.

 

“I’ll try my best to keep it normal around you.” she promised.

Chapter 77: Epilogue: Spring

Summary:

Seven years later, Jon and Alethia’s child asks about their father and Alethia tells him for the first time. Queen Shireen and King Rickon come to Winterfell with their children, and their court, just in time for the Maesters to announce the beginning of Spring.

Notes:

Ahhhh, it’s done?! This is the last chapter????? Enjoy, it’s mostly fluff ;)))))

When sunlight filtered into the bedroom, Alethia tried to untangle herself from the sheets, groaning as light hit her eyes. Sansa was lying next to her, still soundly asleep, but Alethia had promised to get up earlier today and help with the final preparations until Shireen arrived.

 

Stumbling through the room, Alethia picked up different articles of clothes that were still strewn about. She knew what Sansa would say from the bed, if she were awake. Something along the lines of ‘Alethia, you’re a grown woman, pick up your clothes’. Smiling fondly to herself, Alethia kissed Sansa on the cheek, before slipping out of the room.

 

The castle was quiet, only just coming alive, but as Alethia crossed the courtyard to check if everything was in order in the armory, she noticed that a fresh layer of snow had fallen during the night.

 

In the Great Hall, Alyn and Jocey were already sitting at a table, eating breakfast together. They had gotten married soon after Alethia told Alyn to make a move, and judging from the size of Jocey’s belly, they were having yet another baby.

 

“Morning Alyn. Jocey.” Alethia greeted, sitting down across from them.

 

“My lady.” They responded simultaneously. Martha quietly set down a bowl of porridge in front of Alethia, who nodded her thanks.

 

“Alyn, as head of the guards, I need you and a few others to ride out onto the Kingsroad to escort the Queen. Jocey, if you want, you can come, but I understand if you need rest.”

 

“I’ll come with. The next few months will be horrid enough, being stuck inside all day.” Jocey replied snarkily. Alethia chuckled while scarfing down her porridge. She still had quite a bit to do before Shireen came.

 

“Well, I’ll see you later.” Alethia finished, before standing up and rushing to the infirmary. She had to ensure it was empty, just in case a flu wrecked through Winterfell while Shireen’s entourage was there.

 

“Good morning, my lady.” Maester Wolkan greeted as Alethia opened the door. “Only the madam is still here, the rest of the beds are empty.”

 

Alethia peered past him, where the madam of Wintertown’s brothel was still recovering from slipping on the ice outside her establishment. “Good. We’ll need all the space we can get. From what I’ve heard, half of King’s Landing is coming to Winterfell.”

 

“My lady, if you can, please tell her Grace that we still have to organize the harvest from the glass gardens at White Harbor.”

 

“Of course.” Alethia nodded, internally pumping a fist at her idea being a success. She had been the one to suggest glass gardens being built in order to supply the North with food, and the Manderlys had offered to build them outside of White Harbor, as to supply them with seeds and soil from the Reach.

 

Walking back outside, her eyes fell on the entrance to the crypt. She hadn’t talked to Jon in years, and she wanted to do so before the entourage from the South showed up…

 

“Mama!” a voice across the courtyard exclaimed, and Alethia turned around, ripped from her thoughts. Edd was bouncing across the courtyard, an exasperated Calren trying to keep up. Alethia would have laughed if Edd hadn’t impacted with her and almost thrown her to the ground. Ghost was right behind him, as old as a direwolf could get, but still loyal as ever.

 

“What are you doing up already?” she teased Edd, who pouted at her smile.

 

“I’m seven and almost a half! I wanted to improve my bow skills.” He said, as if that was the most natural thing in the world.

 

“And you had to torture poor Calren for that?”

 

“He was already up.” Edd insisted.

 

“My lady.” Calren greeted in that moment. It had become an inside joke between the two, one that Alethia didn’t mind by now. Calren was a good friend, and one of the few people Alethia trusted with her life. He’d saved it after all, even though that had been a rather embarrassing incident. She tried to block out most of that assassination attempt, which had involved a Bolton loyalist and bad ale.

 

“Ser Calren.” Alethia retorted. Calren wrinkled his nose at the title.

 

“Please, my lady, have mercy on this poor soul that was at the archery range before the sun could even think about rising.”

 

“Hmm, Lya must’ve been annoyed at that.” Was all that Alethia said, watching Calren’s ears turn red with delight. He reminded her of Grenn sometimes, especially when he drew his eyebrows together to think, but she never told him that.

 

“She was.” Edd confirmed, oblivious to the fact that he had snitched on himself.

 

“That so?” Alethia asked.

 

“My prince, let us break our fast.” Calren attempted, trying to get them both away from Alethia’s amused smile. He seemed to know it meant nothing but trouble for them. Edd however…

 

“Have fun!” Alethia called after them, letting the two off the hook. “And Edd, if you try to climb out of the room to avoid your lessons again, no archery for a week!”

 

As they marched off, Alethia shook her head. Edd had inherited all the Stark genes of sass, snark and getting into trouble, plus climbing skills and her Gen Z attitude, and it was honestly a pain in the ass. She watched as Ghost’s wagging tail disappeared into the Great Hall with a sigh. When her mother told her that she was growing up too quickly, she laughed it off, but now that Edd was already seven, she began to understand.

 

Alethia jumped as Sansa suddenly leaned into her.

 

“Did he wake Calren again?” she asked softly.

 

“Uh-huh.” Alethia replied. “I swear to god, he has no manners sometimes.”

 

Sansa grinned. “He’s just like his parents.”

 

Alethia snapped around, pretending to be offended. Sansa smiled at her, the happiness reaching her eyes. Nowadays, there was seldom a trace of what had happened in the South, and what Ramsay had done to her, and Alethia was glad that it had turned out that way.

 

“He looks exactly like Jon did his age.” Sansa supplied.

 

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.” Alethia huffed, pulling Sansa into a side-hug. She would have kissed her, but…

 

“He has your nose, and cheekbones.”

 

“Yeah, and I wonder where he has that tendency for sass from. I really hope his aunt didn’t teach him on accident.” Alethia supplied.

 

“On a more serious note.” Sansa began. “There’s been a raven from the citadel in Oldtown.”

 

“And?” Alethia asked, turning around. Almost automatically, she put her hands in Sansa’s.

 

“Spring is here.”

 

***

 

She wandered down the crypts when Sansa told her that Shireen was only about an hour away, according to Jocey, who had returned with a handful of Baratheon guards.

 

 

Al stood alone in the dark crypts, in front of the figure that was fashioned after Jon. This Jon stood proud, holding a longsword and had stone eyes coldly gazing into nothingness. Alethia sighed as she lit the candles that had gone out.

 

 

She wanted to finally close this aspect of her life. It had been long overdue, but she had drawn it out, still not able to think about his death for too long. But Edd had been asking her about his father more and more lately, and Alethia couldn’t avoid his questions for much longer. He deserved to hear their, his story, from her, not some servant, Calren, or even Sansa.

 

 

"I thought that I had known pain, that I had felt all the brutality life had to offer." Alethia began. Her voice echoed in the darkness.

 

 

"But then you died, and I was broken in a way that I have never experienced before. The North will remember you as their King and their hero, a strong and honorable leader, but I will remember you for the bastard named Snow I met 10 years ago. The boy who was kind, and compassionate and loyal beyond reason, who taught me how to fight and took care of me when I went North. For me, there is no doubt that I will love you for the rest of my life."

 

 

She looked up at the statue and half-expected it to turn into Jon, ready to comfort her. She wanted to begin to cry again, but then she remembered that she had to tell Jon everything that had happened.  "I am with Sansa now. She is a good queen, a strong queen of the North. We are still our own kingdom. Shireen has been queen for 7 years now and Rickon her consort. They are good as rulers and Westeros has become a better place. Daenerys has gone back to Essos and continues to rule in the Bay of Dragons. She told me that she realized that Westeros isn't her home and that, perhaps, becoming queen here is not her destiny. The Watch has been disbanded, and Satin lives in Oldtown. Still not married, but we both know that that was never for him. Sam has inherited Hornhill. Arya and Gendry rule the Stormlands together and Arya is Mistress of Law. Nymeria is with her, but Ghost remains in the North."

 

 

"There is one more thing I want to tell you, now that I am speaking of Ghost." Alethia swallowed. "You have a son. I named him Edd, after his grandfather and uncle of sorts. Ghost is adamant on protecting him and will not leave his side. Sansa named him her heir." She held out Longclaw now.

 

 

"It is good that we had him. Otherwise, what would I do with this nice, Valyrian steel sword I had lying around? Jon, wherever you are now, you don't have to worry. You left the world better than it was and the people that knew you all admired you. I am sure that Eddard is proud of you, as Sansa, Shireen, Rickon and all the rest are too. I am proud of you too, how could I not?"

 

 

Alethia felt her eyes sting. There was a reason that she hadn't come here after leaving for Mereen. She couldn't bear thinking about Jon. It was still too painful. Yet, she managed to choke out a few last words.

 

 

"You did well, my love. You can rest now."

 

 

***

 

 

From the stiffness in Sansa’s posture, Alethia could tell that she was annoyed and stressed. First at the fact that Alethia had taken forever to find the dress she was supposed to wear, and then at Edd for tearing his doublet in the last second, but as Alethia nudged her, she let out a small huff and a smile appeared on her face.

 

 

The thunder of hooves became louder, and before Alethia could catch a glance of the entourage, she knelt together with the rest of Winterfell. Well, excluding Sansa and Edd, who were of equal standing as Shireen and Rickon.

 

“Rise.” A female voice called, and Alethia stood, looking at the people in the courtyard. The first person she saw was Gella, who was still sitting on her horse. Her armor looked a bit worn, but she herself looked years younger than the woman Alethia had rescued from Craster’s keep.

 

Then, her eyes wandered to the riderless horse at the front of the caravan, and finally, the woman that was talking to Sansa.

 

In the time they had been apart, Shireen had grown up. She still wore the crown from her coronation, and Alethia caught a glimpse of Lucifer at her side, but the woman with the long, black hair and storm-blue eyes was definitely not the same as the girl she said goodbye to in King’s Landing.

 

“Your Grace.” Alethia greeted as Shireen walked over to her. Shireen raised her eyebrow, before embracing Alethia.

 

“None of that horseshit.” Shireen whispered into her ear, before taking a step back. By now, she was taller than Alethia, and her greyscale only seemed to accentuate her beauty.

 

“It’s good to see you, my lady.” Shireen said louder, keeping the necessary decorum. “And who is this?” she asked, looking down at Edd, who was standing next to Alethia.

 

“I’m Edd Stark!” he exclaimed. “Pleasure to meet you.”

 

After more empty courtesies were exchanged, most of the crowd around them dispersed, and Alethia and Shireen could speak more freely.

 

“How are you?” Shireen asked, and Alethia knew that she didn’t just mean her mood.

 

“Better. I promise.” Alethia assured. “Do you want to take a walk?”

 

“The glass gardens?” Shireen suggested. As Alethia looked over her shoulder, she saw that Edd was already talking to a girl with reddish-blond hair, Calren and her protector standing close by.

 

“She’s a little old to be yours.” Alethia commented.

 

“That’s not my daughter.” Shireen laughed. “She’s Catelyn Lannister.”

 

“I didn’t see Jaime or Brienne around.” Alethia said. She knew about the twins of course, Barristan and Catelyn, who had been named the heirs to Tarth and Casterly Rock.

 

“Well, she loves her uncle a lot, so Jaime and Brienne decided to let her be fostered in King’s Landing.”

 

“And your own kids? In your letters, you wrote that you have three.”

 

“Yeah, there’s Stannis, my older son, and the twins Robb and Davos.” Shireen replied. Alethia reminded herself that Shireen was 19, and this was totally normal by Westerosi standards. “Rickon’s taking care of the twins right now, but Stannis is probably causing as much trouble as he can.”

 

“Then he’s just like Edd and nothing like either of their namesakes in that way.” Alethia snorted. “Oh my God! Look at us, talking about our sons, feels weird.”

 

“It does.” Shireen agreed.

 

When a young servant rushed into the glass gardens, spouting all kinds of excuses, Shireen graciously bid Alethia goodbye and disappeared into Winterfell, leaving Alethia to search for her son.

 

She found him back at the archery range, showing Catelyn everything, who just rolled her eyes at him and then showed him her wooden sword.

 

“I prefer swords over bows! My father was the greatest swordsman in Westeros before his hand got cut off!” she boasted, waving the wooden stick around in the air. “And my mother is the first female knight!”

 

“Well, my father was a great commander and the King in the North!” Edd replied. “But I like swords more, too.”

 

Alethia watched the two argue for a while, before they settled on shooting in the bow range, pretending to roll her eyes at Tyrion reappearing.

 

“This scenario feels incredibly familiar.” He mused, nodding his head to the remainders of an old dummy that were lying on the ground next to the targets.

 

“I believe this is where I told you I had hit the king.”

 

“I’m sorry, but was that really twelve years ago?” Tyrion asked suddenly.

 

“Fuck! It was!” Alethia exclaimed. “Now I feel old.”

 

“Seven hells, imagine how I feel then.” Tyrion muttered. Alethia turned her attention back to the children. She saw Sandor limp towards the range, the inconsistency in his walk a reminder of his fight against the Mountain and glanced over to Tyrion.

 

He only shrugged. “He pretends not to like her, but that girl is terribly good at getting everything she wants.”

 

Seconds later, Catelyn squealed happily and threw herself into the Hound’s arms. His expression was priceless.

 

“This is my sword teacher!” she prattled on to Edd, her interest already back on him.

 

“Never thought you’d be a sword teacher, Clegane.” Alethia called over, highly amused. “Nevertheless for the daughter of Brienne of fucking Tarth.” She added under her breath.

 

“Fuck off.” Sandor replied.

 

“I wonder what Arya had to say about that.” Alethia continued, ignoring him.

 

“You’re just the crazy cunt I remember you to be. Lots of shit happened, but you never changed.”

 

“Thank you.” Alethia replied. “What are you trying to hold your laughter in for, Tyrion?” she asked, staring at the Hand of the Queen, who was trying to hide his laughter quite poorly.

 

“He-“ Tyrion began, cutting himself off. “He was knighted after he recovered from the battle for King’s Landing.”

 

“And you didn’t think to tell me that in all the letters you sent?” Alethia almost screeched. Then, she mock-curtsied to Sandor, who looked ready to kill her. “Ser Sandor.”

 

“Bronn knighted him.” Catelyn supplied helpfully, only staring as both Tyrion and Alethia almost went to their knees laughing.

 

***

 

The feast was in full swing when Alethia and Tyrion walked in, Alethia slightly tipsy, while Tyrion was already drunk. He had been adamant on letting her try the newest variation of Imp’s delight, and that had quickly turned into a slightly narcissistic wine tasting stint.

 

Luckily, the seating plan had long been forgotten, and while Sansa talked to Sandor and Rickon was entertaining the small crowd of princes and the future Lady of the Rock, Alethia sat down next to Shireen.

 

“They would make a good match.” Shireen told her. “Edd and Catelyn. It would unify the North and the Westerlands.”

 

“A little early for them.” Alethia avoided. “And it would be quite corny. I mean, Edd and Catelyn? And then the marriage between a Lannister and a Stark? Seems quite reminiscent of Tyrion’s and Sansa’s little sham.”

 

Shireen snorted. “I know that Tyrion, as well as Brienne and Jaime would much rather see her married to any child you and Sansa raised than one of the peacocks that fawn around in the Red keep.”

 

“When she’s older,” Alethia began. “We can think about it. But then again, there’s the issue of marrying two heirs.”

 

“You’re insufferable when you turn into a politician.” Shireen laughed.

 

“Any betrothals for your sons?” Alethia asked.

 

“Oh Gods no! I mean, the suggestions have been piling up, but I’ve done my best to avoid them.”

 

“Please do tell.” Alethia sniggered.

 

“Well, there’s been offers from the Martells, the Hightowers, the Tyrells, even some of the Lords in the Free cities.” Shireen replied, shaking her head.

 

“Remember when I brought you to the farmhouse in the Gift?” Alethia asked suddenly.

 

Shireen smiled, closing her eyes. Alethia knew she was almost back there. “Those were simpler times.”

 

“I hope you’re not unhappy with being queen?”

 

“No, it’s hard sometimes, but I think that that was what my father was trying to raise me to be.” Shireen replied with a soft smile.

 

The two of them talked a little longer, until Alethia noticed that Edd was basically falling asleep while he was standing. Robb and Jon were already asleep, and Stannis was currently being brought to bed, so Alethia excused herself and wandered down to where Catelyn and Edd had given up on teasing each other.

 

“Come on, little man, let’s get you to bed.” Alethia told Edd quietly.

 

“M not tired.” He mumbled.

 

“Sure you aren’t.” Alethia replied, hoisting him over her shoulder. Most of the people in the Hall were so drunk and occupied that they wouldn’t notice anyways, so she slipped out and walked to his room, where she put him down on the bed.

 

“Come on, you need to get out of that doublet.” Alethia attempted, but Edd had already stubbornly sat down on the floor. She sighed deeply, putting her hands on her hips.

 

“What do you want me to do in return for you getting into bed?” she asked.

 

“Tell me a story!” Edd exclaimed.

 

“Done.” Alethia said quickly, before he got any other ideas. Quicker than she thought possible, Edd got changed and slipped under the heavy furs on his bed.

 

“The story?” Edd asked.

 

“Fine, let’s see… Once upon a time, there was a woman who was trying to put her son into bed because he was really tired. She was tired too, so she fell asleep on his bedroom floor and got a kidney infection. The end!”

 

Edd giggled but crossed his arms. “That’s not a real story.”

 

“What’s a real story then?” Alethia asked, smiling.

 

“Tell me a story about father! Sansa tells me about him sometimes, and Tormund always talks about him when he comes to visit for my nameday, but you’ve never talked much about him!”

 

Alethia knew the smile on her face was turning sad. “So then, what do you want to know about him?”

 

Edd threw his hands in the air above him. “Everything!”

 

“That’s a little much for tonight, but I promise I’ll tell you more tomorrow. Is a synopsis good for today?”

 

“A sin-op-sees?”

 

“Yeah, like a summary.” Alethia asked, and Edd nodded vigorously. So, Alethia began telling Edd, and while she was telling the story, she felt herself drifting off. She was telling the whole story after all, but maybe that had been her intention all along.

 

“The first time I met your father was when I came to Westeros. His grandfather, Eddard Stark was holding court, and everyone was there. Jon, Sansa, Rickon, Bran and Robb, who sadly died before you could meet him. Even Theon! Only Arya was gone, probably because she was busy stealing tarts from the kitchen. They used to call her Arya Underfoot back then.

He probably thought that I was crazy, but we became friends because we didn’t judge each other. Jon was the one who taught me to fight, and to protect myself, and when I had to go to the Watch, he always tried his best to protect me.” Alethia fondly watched Edd as he made himself more comfortably.

 

Who would have thought it would turn out like this?

 

She skipped over most of the things that had conspired beyond the wall, skipping the murder of Orell completely and left out the gruesome details of Mance Rayder’s death and Hardhome too. Edd wrinkled his nose as she told him about how she and Jon had kissed for the first time and pretended to be annoyed at all the ‘stuff that sounded like it was from the songs’.

 

“And in the Long Night, it was your father who killed the Night King. He sacrificed himself so the rest of us could live. He is a hero, but more importantly, he loves you very much Edd. No matter where he is, I know that Jon is watching over us, and he’s so proud of you.”

 

“How do you know that?” Edd whispered into the darkness, his voice unusually shy.

 

“Because, more than anything, I know your father.” Alethia sighed. “And I loved him until the end.”

 

“Will you love me till the end?” Edd asked.

 

“Of course!” Alethia assured. “Don’t forget, I’m the Woman of the Watch, and it’s my job to protect this world. I’ll fight for you, because your my son. I’ll fight for you, and then some more.”

 

And while she was making her heroic proclamations, Alethia almost didn’t notice that Edd had fallen asleep. As quietly as she could, she tiptoed out of the room, past Calren, who was guarding his door while the entourage from King’s Landing was there, past the loud feast in the Great Hall and into the Godswood, where the stars burned as bright as the sun and the trees whispered secrets to each other.

 

Jon was buried in the crypts, but when Alethia sat under the hearttree, that was when the power that brought her to Westeros was listening.

 

“I wasn’t lying.” She told them then, her voice cutting the silence like valyrian steel. “However many promises I’ve broken, I meant what I said to him. I’ll always protect this world, because that’s what I’m here for, right? I’m the Woman of the Watch.”

Notes:

This is really it, huh? I’ve been writing this fic since 2020 now, and it’s one of the first I ever wrote. I still remember how I just used to type the chapters out in the window on the ao3 page, never minding proofreading.

Since then, I’ve grown so much as a person and a writer, and that’s not only meaning my writing quality, but also the fact that I’m actively contributing fan content, writing novels and realizing that writing is not just something I do to destress, but something I actually love.

Okay that was a lot of stuff about me, but now to you guys. First of all THANK YOU. I don’t know how long you’ve been reading this fic, or if you read it after it was complete, but the fact that you took time out of your daily life to read about an OC that has absolutely nothing going for her baffles me. To all the people who kudo, the emails from ao3 always make my day, and to those who commented, thank you for motivating me to keep on writing this fic.

Seriously, to all my readers, you guys make me believe in my writing and whoever you are, you deserve the absolute best in life.

Special thanks go to @Darkangel620, who wrote amazing comments and interpreted my fics better than I ever could have, @queefqueen for never failing to make me laugh at their name and my friends that I forced to read this and hate me for killing certain characters even though they don’t know shit abt GoT.

Even though this fic is done, I’m not quite ready to let Alethia go, so there might be some surprise stuff coming in the WotW-series (if you want to read that you can subscribe). This OC was created as a bit of a self-insert and then became her own person. I put her through my highs and lows and thoroughly feel sorry for her, and everyone else in Westeros. It feels a bit strange to think that I won’t be taking time out of my week anymore to write for this fic, when it’s been a habit for about. one and a half years now, but life goes on, and I still have my other WIPs to keep me stressed.

I’ll miss you all so much! Thank you for reading until here <3

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Woman of the Watch