"Theon Greyjoy," Ross' sharp voice rang out across the yard. "A word,"

Most eyes turned her way, including those of the dark-haired, ever-amused youth. Theon's smile was as infuriating as ever as he made a show muttering something to his pretty female companion as he swaggered over to her. It was evening, after dinner, and the man had likely had more than a little to drink.

"Lady Bolton," He said. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

When she first met him, Greyjoy had been a boy of ten, resentful of being taken from his home, but full of bravado even then. Over the course of her visits to Winterfell several times a year, she had seen him grow into a handsome young man, skilled with a bow, who was one of her nephew's closest friends. He had fought at Robb's side during every battle, but that didn't mean Ross trusted him.

"Walk with me," She said.

Though he looked briefly irritated at having to leave his little serving wench, Theon kept that amused smile on his face and fell in step beside her, as they moved towards the stairs leading up to the battlements.

"I trust Robb has told you of where he means to send you?" She had been meaning to have this conversation for a while, and as she was to leave Riverrun for the Reach the next morning, now was as good a time as any.

"He has," Theon nodded as they began to climb, the fast-fading light making their shadows long. "To treat with my father on Pyke. What of it, my lady? You don't look so pleased by the prospect,"

"An understatement,"

"Why?" His lips curled. "Is it the choice of envoy that displeases you?"

"Sending any envoy would displease me," Ross said. "Perhaps foolishly, when my nephew brought up the matter of treating with your father, I told him that Balon Greyjoy would send back the head of any man he sent," She glanced at the man beside her. "To which he suggested sending you instead,"

"You think I'd betray Robb the moment I return to the Iron Islands, is that it?" His eyes narrowed as they neared the top of the stairs, the wind suddenly hitting them from between the battlements.

"Perhaps," She eyed him carefully, turning her head so her long, loose hair was blown behind her as they walked along the walls, rather than whipping around her face. "I truly couldn't say, though I know what I'd do if it came to a choice between my family and my friend," That was why Jaime was still locked in a cell. "Honestly, it matters little. One more man on Greyjoy's side would hardly make a difference in the end, aside from Robb's hurt feelings," It might even make him listen to me more often. "No, what concerns me is that your father would never ally with the son of one of the men that drove him to his knees," And my nephew does not seem to see that.

"What is your point?" He had the nerve to look bored.

"You're going to have to make a choice," Ross said coldly. "You will arrive on Pyke and your father will throw Robb's terms in your face. Perhaps he will even attack the North out of spite. Like as not, he's been planning such a move ever since he heard we were marching south anyway,"

"You can't know that," Theon raised an eyebrow, still not taking her seriously. "You've never met my father, you've never been to the Iron Islands, and you've never fought a war. How can you be so certain, my lady?"

"I know hate," Was her reply. "I know what it's like to be humiliated, broken, forced to kneel, knowing that no matter what you do, any move you make, you'll be crushed as easily as stepping on a beetle. Your father has been simmering in rage and resentment for ten years. You don't let go of hate like that, least of all take favours handed carelessly out,"

"It's no small favour that Robb is offering," He said. "He's giving my father a crown,"

Ross smiled. "Giving," She said pointedly. "I don't pretend to be familiar with the ways of the Ironborn - nor should you, given you haven't seen Pyke in ten years - but I would not take kindly to anything given to me by the family that killed two of my sons, no matter how great a gift it may be. It's a matter of pride, and I can safely say that the man who crowned himself King of the Iron Islands and thought he could take on the combined might of Seven Kingdoms is more prideful than I. So yes, I do know that you will have to choose between him and Robb,"

A silence. The smile had finally dropped from Theon's face. He stopped walking, and so did she.

"I assume you couldn't change Robb's mind on this matter. And you said it yourself, you don't care that he sends me, even if I betrayed him," He looked offended at the notion. "So why bother telling me this?"

Ross had told her nephew everything she had just told Theon, and he had still preferred to listen to the counsel of his lords, more experienced in war but less experienced in judging men.

"That's not what I said," She said. "I said it matters little to the war as a whole if you betray us. Not that I don't care," He opened his mouth to speak, but she wasn't finished. "What I wanted to tell you, Greyjoy, is that if you do side with your father against us - and it will come to making that choice, like it or not - I will not rest until you have died the traitor's death you deserve,"

His eyes widened a fraction in surprise, but then that amused smile was back. "Forgive me, Lady Bolton, but what could you do?"

Ross narrowed her eyes. Push you over these walls right now, for one. One short, sharp shove your laughing eyes never saw coming and it's off to your Drowned God you go.

"This is not a game," She snapped instead. "This is war. Robb might have won a few battles, but his luck could change in the blink of an eye. This time next year, he could be safely in Winterfell, or he could be rotting in a shallow grave in the Riverlands. The same goes for you, so make your choices wisely. I would not hesitate to slit your throat myself if I thought you'd betrayed my family, and would feel no guilt at sending an assassin to do the job as you slept, either. My brother was an honourable man, but do not believe that I am above such acts myself. And if that isn't enough for you, remember the man I married. There are places in the Dreadfort that even I don't go, but I'm sure Lord Bolton would not object if I handed you over,"

In truth, she did not know anything that solid about what went on in the Dreadfort when she was away, but suspicion was enough to make it convincing. And she could easily believe her husband capable of such a thing.

"Have you gone mad?" Greyjoy actually laughed, but she saw the look in his eyes, and that was enough to feel a stab of satisfaction. He had heard her, and her words had rattled him despite his outward carelessness. "I would not betray Robb. He is as good as a brother to me,"

"I'm sure you believe that," She said. "But like I said. Things change. Go on, run back to your little serving wench if you're going to smirk like that at me, but at least remember my words. Betray us, and you're a dead man, one way or another,"

With one last sneering glare, he turned and hurried away, gait far from his typical casual swagger. Ross watched him leave, eyes narrowed, as he passed a figure who had just come up the stairs. The two exchanged several words, before she recognised her son in the dim light. Ren moved to join her.

"What did you say to him?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"That I'd kill him if he supports his father over us,"

She turned to look over the walls at the river, and the darkening woods beyond it, feeling the wind on her face, catching her hair. It was rather cold even for the Riverlands, that wind reminding her more of a Northern chill now the sun was almost gone. She sensed her son move to stand beside her. Ren had grown again, even since they left Winterfell, and if Jaime were not locked in a tower cell, they would likely have been within a fraction of the same height.

"You might as well sign his death warrant now, then,"

Ross smiled faintly. "The way he laughed in my face just then doesn't incline me to be any kinder,"

"I don't blame you," Ren shrugged, then seemed to hesitate, which caught her attention.

"What?" She narrowed her eyes again, turning to him.

"I had an interesting conversation with Ser Brynden earlier," Her son grimaced. "One of his men reported that you visited Jaime's cell the first day we arrived. Tully wanted to know why. The guard said it was to deliver news from King's Landing - which he believed, so there's no concerns there - but you must admit, it is rather odd you felt the need to tell the Kingslayer of your brother's death yourself,"

"And what did you say to Ser Brynden?" Her lip curled.

"That you needed someone to take your anger out on," Amusement glinted in his eyes. "And what better substitute for Cersei Lannister than her own twin brother?"

"And he believed that? What does that say about me?"

"It seemed to satisfy his curiosity for now," Ren was still smirking. "It likely helped that Jaime's still covered in fading bruises from the battle. Any one of them could have been made by an angry woman,"

She had to smile, shaking her head. "I'm glad the Blackfish has such a high opinion of me. Though why does he think I made it out of there without bruises of my own? The Kingslayer is hardly going to take a beating from a woman lying down,"

"He's more than capable of holding you off. And if he harmed you, he'd get worse in return, I suppose," He shrugged. "Tully didn't ask, so I didn't elaborate,"

Ross was silent, staring down at her own pale hands resting on the crenellations.

"Many thanks for lying, but you should never have had to find out," She said after a while. "To you, Jaime Lannister should merely be the knight you squired for, not your mother's dirty little secret,"

"I'd rather know," Ren said. "If only for things to make sense. The only thing I regret learning is that I have more than one half-brother, given who it is, but that's his fault, not yours,"

"Have you talked to him?" She asked. "He doesn't know that you know,"

"Not yet," He paused, then grinned. "Rosennis Lannister," Her son pronounced carefully. "It doesn't roll off the tongue, I'll admit. I see why you never married him,"

"Renan Lannister," She pulled a face. "That sounds even worse,"

She wondered what it was like for him to consider possibilities like that. If Renan Snow had been born into the most powerful house in the realm, learning at Tywin Lannister's knee, a legitimate son and heir rather than a lady's bastard, he would be unstoppable. Or perhaps he would have turned out more like Cersei. He is how he is because he wasn't handed anything on a silver platter.

"That's because you gave me a Northern name, of course it doesn't fit,"

"I'm sorry, should I have called you Tywin and stirred up even more trouble?" Ross raised an eyebrow, and he laughed. She sighed. "You'll never be a Lannister, and neither will I. Nor do I want to be. It's for the best. Remember we're at war,"

"I never forgot,"

"I'm leaving tomorrow, as you know," She found herself saying. "When you ride to war, don't get yourself killed. However clever you are, I've seen your reckless side. I'm hardly one to lecture you on making sensible decisions, but learn a lesson from the Whispering Wood and gods sake, use your head. I know you don't want to be told how to fight by your mother, but it's better to run and live to fight than die a hero,"

"You sound like a sellsword," Ren said dryly, but he nodded all the same. "I'm not here to be a hero. That's Robb, the Young Wolf. My job is to make sure no one stabs him in the back,"

"I'm glad to hear it," Ross said. "Make him see reason as well. It's a lot to put on you, but you have Robb's trust more than anyone else here. It's easy to get caught up in what the lords want, but when anyone suggests anything, think about what could go wrong. Only advise Robb to go forward if it's worth it," She added, "And keep that wolf around you,"

Crow was as tall as Grey Wind (himself the size of a pony by now), but leaner and rangy, which somehow gave him a more savage look, along with his dark coat. Having seen all four beasts in battle, tearing off human limbs and ripping out throats, Ross did not envy the Lannister soldiers.

"I'll try," Ren nodded. "Good luck with Renly and Stannis. Hopefully by the time you get there, one of them will have offed the other, which makes your job easier,"

"That's optimistic. Perhaps Lord Tywin will have fallen on his sword by the time you reach him, too,"

"I'll call him grandfather and he just might,"

Ross laughed, more than grateful that they could joke about Ren's parentage, given his initial reaction.

*

The sounds of a melee greeted Ross and her party as they were escorted through Renly's camp. She was accompanied by twenty Winterfell men, four lords and Dacey Mormont, who she had requested from Robb's own battle guard to attend her in places men could not go. The camp was vast, fearsome and predictably ostentatious, but it was the cheering that caught Ross' attention, along with the clash of steel.

"A tourney?" Hal Mollen liked to state the obvious.

"I thought they were marching to war, not playing at it?" Dacey chuckled.

Their escort, a knight named Ser Colen, led them towards the source of the noise, to where the tourney was taking place below the battlements of the small castle. Quite quickly, the crowd of people made passing through the field impossible.

"Lady Bolton," The knight said. "It your men would be so good as to wait here, I'll present you to the King,"

"Very well," Ross glanced at her men. They had been on the road together for weeks now, and that was all it took for Lady Mormont to fall in behind her; she doubted Renly would harm her, but it always paid to have a loyal guard.

Ser Colen led the way through the crowd on foot, leading his horse, whilst Ross and Dacey rode behind him. She could not help but cast an eye to the melee. A big knight in blue armour seemed to be amongst the strongest, wielding a morningstar and bearing the arms of Tarth, along with an even bigger man in grey, but the fighters were not Ross' focus. She recognised few of the lords and ladies in attendance, but gathered from their sigils that the rumours were true; near every house in the Reach and Stormlands had pledged themselves to Renly.

The self-proclaimed King himself was sat watching the tourney. Renly looked as she remembered him looking, like a young, less broad Robert Baratheon. He wore a crown of gold roses, with a jade stag. Baratheon sigil, but Tyrell colours, could he make it any more obvious?

His Queen sat beside him. Margaery Tyrell was a beautiful girl around Robb's age, with a sweet smile, doe-brown eyes and curly brown hair. She looked more like her brother Loras than Jaime looked like Cersei. The chance to see his darling daughter crowned Queen was likely why Mace Tyrell had backed Renly in the first place. It was a shame Stannis hadn't given his sour-faced Florent wife a sharp shove off a balcony when no one was looking and gotten there first.Though that option is still quite possible.

But Ross was not here to pledge Robb's support to Renly Baratheon. Her nephew had been very clear on that, despite some grumbling from some of the lords. Stannis had the better claim, it was true, but it would have been foolish to ignore the man who had quickly raised the largest army in the Seven Kingdoms.

Perhaps wisely, Robb had not trusted the subtlety of most of the Northern lords to do the job properly, and not trusted the Riverlords full stop. It would have been an insult not to send an envoy from a great house; Robb had to lead his armies, the Blackfish was vital to organising the raiding parties, Hoster Tully was dying in his bed and that left herself and Edmure as the only options. Upon realising this, all eyes had turned to her at once, even the Riverlords, and she had smiled dryly before volunteering.

A roar from the crowd had Ross looking over to see that Loras Tyrell had fallen to the big blue knight, leaving him to face the larger man in grey, who bore no arms; his shield was as grey as his armour, and his greatsword gave him impressive reach. Their fight was brutal, both being incredibly powerful warriors, but the grey knight fought with a savagery that the blue one lacked, in a way that reminded her almost of Sandor Clegane. The difference between a tourney knight and a warrior, Ross noted, seeing the blue knight forced back.

Not that the smaller man was making it easy. Ross was far from an expert on swordsmanship, but she knew a little from watching Ren and practicing at knives with Jaime. Even she could tell that both were extremely good, and the fact that the blue knight was holding his own testified to his skill.

The man in grey won in the end, however, to loud, enthusiastic cheers. He was clearly very popular, and received even more applause when he gallantly helped the blue knight to his feet, leading them both to kneel before Renly. Ross heard the heckles being called out towards the loser, and frowned.

"Why don't they like that man?" She asked Ser Colen. He might have lost, but had put up a hell of a fight; it was no easy feat to win against Loras Tyrell.

"Because he is no man, my lady," The knight frowned, disapproving. "That's Brienne of Tarth, daughter to Lord Selwyn the Evenstar,"

"Daughter?" Ross raised an eyebrow back at Dacey. "Imagine that, my lady. A woman fighting with a sword,"

Lady Mormont laughed. She was currently dressed in a simple green gown - they had all agreed to play along as much as possible for now - though her sword was strapped to her saddle, and she wore breeches underneath. Ross herself had her dagger hidden but within easy reach.

"You wouldn't catch me entering a tourney, that's for sure," Dacey said, grinning.

"Brienne the Beauty, they name her," Ser Colen said, oblivious to the fact that neither shared his disapproval at a woman fighting, but rather at southron knights in general. "Though not to her face, lest they be called upon to defend those words with their bodies,"

Ross was barely paying attention to him, as she heard Renly declare Ser Loreon Storm the victor of the melee, last mounted of one hundred sixteen knights. Her eyes snapped to the big grey knight, not sure how she hadn't recognised him, as he pulled off his helm. Of course he's here, Stannis sent him to the Stormlands, and here are all its lords. She wondered if the young man had told his uncle that particular piece of information yet. Or has he turned his cloak? Black and gold to gold and black, perhaps.

"As champion, you may ask of me any boon that you desire," Renly was saying, grinning down at his nephew and friend. "If it lies in my power, it is yours,"

Loreon grinned. "I'll have Storm's End," He replied. A shocked silence fell abruptly over the stands, and Ross saw Renly's smile falter slightly, but then the knight laughed. "A jest, uncle, I promise. No, I ask nothing for myself save a casket of your best wine, but Lady Brienne fought valiantly in the melee. Why, she beat our dear Ser Loras after all. Had I not been here, she certainly would have triumphed. Let her have a reward as well, it's only fair,"

Perhaps it was out of relief that his initial request hadn't been serious that Renly agreed to the second quickly.

"Of course," His wide smile was back, as he turned to the woman knelt before him. "Lady Brienne? Anything you desire?"

"Your Grace," Brienne answered. "I ask the honor of a place among your Rainbow Guard. I would be one of your seven, and pledge my life to yours, to go where you go, ride at your side, and keep you safe from all hurt and harm,"

"Done," Renly said. "Rise, and remove your helm,"

She did, and Ross suddenly understood Ser Colen's words. Brienne the Beauty was a mocking title. The girl's face was undeniably ugly, with straw-like hair cut short to her chin, crooked teeth and broad, coarse features. But her eyes were those of a young girl, large and very blue, trusting and guileless, despite the fact she fought like a demon out of the seven hells.

"My life for yours, Your Grace. From this day on, I am your shield, I swear it by the old gods and the new," The way she looked at Renly after the man fastened a rainbow cloak around her shoulders, the way her face lit up, made her feelings towards him plain.

"Gods, she's besotted," Dacey muttered to Ross, sympathetic rather than cruel.

Ross was about to reply, but Ser Colen was approaching the gallery.

"Your Grace! I beg your leave," He went to one knee. "I have the honor to bring you the Lady Rosennis Bolton, sent as envoy by her nephew Robb, Lord of Winterfell,"

Ross dismounted and moved to the knight's side, Dacey several steps behind her. Renly looked surprised to see her.

"Lady Rosennis? We are most pleased," He turned to his young bride. "Margaery my sweet, this is Lady Rosennis Bolton, Eddard Stark's sister,"

"You are most welcome here, Lady Bolton," The girl said politely, with a soft smile. "I am so sorry for your loss,"

Ross stared at her for a moment, and to her credit, Margaery did not look away. Genuine, or a good actor?

"Thank you," She said, shortly.

"My lady, I swear to you, I will see that the Lannisters answer for your husband's murder," Renly declared. "When I take King's Landing, I'll send you Cersei's head,"

"I'd rather you sent her alive, my lord," Ross smiled her brother Brandon's wolfish smile - on him it had been charming, whilst on her it was more unnerving - and his eyes widened slightly at that, but her attention was soon taken elsewhere.

"Your Grace," Brienne of Tarth corrected sharply. "And you should kneel when you approach the King,"

Ross arched an eyebrow, fixing the girl with a cold stare. "My lady," She corrected her. "And you should not tell me off like I am a troublesome child. It's irritating and rude,"

The girl flushed but held her stare.

After a few moments, Ross turned to Renly. "My lord, we have pressing matters to discuss,"

Some of Renly's lords bristled at the fact she hadn't changed her address to him, but the self-proclaimed King only laughed.

"Of course, my lady. Tell me, when does your son mean to march against Harrenhal?"

"I have been riding for over two weeks. I could not say, my lord,"

The man was not their ally yet, she was hardly going to give him their battle plans.

"So long as he leaves a few Lannisters for me, I'll not complain. What has he done with the Kingslayer?"

"Jaime Lannister is held prisoner at Riverrun,"

"Still alive?" Lord Rowan seemed dismayed.

"It would seem the direwolf is gentler than the lion," Renly just seemed bemused.

"Gentler than the Lannisters," Lady Oakheart murmured with a bitter smile. "Is drier than the sea,"

"I call it weak," Lord Tarly said bluntly. "No disrespect to you, Lady Bolton, but it would have been more seemly had Lord Robb come to pay homage to the King himself, rather than hiding behind a woman's skirts,"

"My nephew is more concerned with leading an army against Tywin Lannister, than riding here to play at war with you, my lord," Ross shot him a sharp look.

"Go softly, Lord Randyll, I fear you're overmatched," Renly grinned, summoning a steward. "Find a place for the lady's men, and see that they have every comfort. Lady Rosennis and her companion shall have my own pavilion. Since Lord Caswell has been so kind as to give me use of his castle, I have no need of it. My ladies, when you are rested, I would be honored if you would share our meat and mead at the feast Lord Caswell is giving us tonight. A farewell feast. I fear his lordship is eager to see the heels of my hungry horde,"

As Caswell made his protests to that, the steward led Ross and Dacey away to Renly's pavilion, a vast monstrosity of green silk filled with every luxury imaginable, and then some.

"Gods, no wonder they're moving at a snail's pace," Dacey said once the steward left, looking around critically. "This tent is finer than anything on Bear Island,"

"They can afford to be slow," Ross idly walked around, peering at various items. I can understand the armoury, but the high harp..? "Renly's sat blocking any food shipments from reaching King's Landing. The smallfolk might open the gates themselves by the time he makes it to the city, and present him with Joffrey's head,"

She had brought one fine gown with her to Bitterbridge - the rest consisted of practical riding habits - largely made of black velvet slashed with white, with accents in silver. Ross changed into it before going up to the castle, along with her highborn companions of Dacey, Wendel Manderly, Lucas Blackwood, Perwyn Frey and Robin Flint.

The hall was small, and packed almost full, but room was found for her companions to sit with Renly's knights on the benches, whilst Ross herself was given a place at the high table on the dais, between red-faced Lord Rowan and the amiable Ser Jon Fossoway.

Brienne of Tarth had been seated at the far end of the high table. She wore clothes more suited to a knight than a lady, along with her new rainbow cloak. Out of armour, she was even plainer than before. She had even less chest to speak of than Ross did herself, her body was ungainly, round-shouldered and heavy, and it was clear from her every action that Brienne knew it. She spoke only when spoken to, and rarely looked up from her food, all the grace and power she had showed whilst fighting having turned into a deep-set awkwardness and unease.

From the amount of food present, it was clear that the war had not touched the fertile lands of the Reach. Ross had little appetite at the best of times, and in her grief for Ned found herself eating even less. Tonight was no different, and she spent more time watching the man who would see himself King.

Renly sat with his wife on his left and her brother on his right. Ser Loras wore his own rainbow cloak, and received far more attention from his King than his sister did; Renly was rather too careful to pay her some mind. The man did not seem to have as large an appetite for food, drink and women as Robert had done. He laughed often, was ever-gracious and spoke amiably to highborn lords and lowly serving wenches alike. But Ross found herself glancing down at Loreon Storm with increasing frequency, where he sat down with the other knights.

Robert's bastard might not have had a place at the high table, but every nearby ear was directed at him, congratulating him for his tourney win, eager to make conversation, and Storm responded with geniality and good humour to each one. Either he was following Renly's example, or Renly was following his, for both of them worked the room like they had been born to it, rather than a bastard and a third son.

Ross had meant to speak to her son's friend during the evening, but could not face getting up and squeezing her way towards him through the rowdy guests, who drunk too much, boasted too loudly and groped at any maid in sight. One fancied himself a singer and unfortunately felt the need to serenade them all, whilst Lord Varner man blatantly had a hand up the serving girl on his lap as he slobbered all over her neck. Another loud-mouthed fool swore to slay the Hound in single combat, his foot in the gravy boat as he did so. I do hope you try.

She sat through it all without complaint though, and with some effort even made light enough conversation with the men either side of her. Ross could not keep her eyes from narrowing, however, when a fat fool came capering out in gold-painted tin with a cloth lion's head, and chased a dwarf around the tables, whacking him over the head with a bladder. Finally Renly demanded to know why he was beating his brother.

"Why, your Grace, I'm the Kinslayer," The fool said. Oh for gods sake.

"It's Kingslayer, fool of a fool," Renly said, and the hall rang with laughter.

You're all the biggest fools of them all. Ross knew that Jaime would only have laughed at the idiotic display, right up until he saw the dwarf prancing around in motley. A glance down at Loreon saw that though he was outwardly laughing, the look in his eye was weary. She knew that Tyrion Lannister despised dwarves who played the fool.

"They are all so young," Lord Rowan did not join the laughter, not drunk but not completely sober either. He was right, either way; few of these men had been older than babes during Robert's Rebellion, boys during the war with the Greyjoys. They were the sons of lords and knights in a peaceful summertime. They did not know war, or loss, or hardship.

"It's just a game to them," Ross agreed. "They'll soon learn,"

"Learn what?" Rowan snorted. "How to be old, tired and miserable like us?" She had to smile. At least he's honest. "Look at them. They're young and strong, full of life and laughter,"

"They're summer children," She said. "Age has little to do with it. I was near as jaded when I was Margaery Tyrell's age as I am now. It's innocence versus experience. All of this," She waved a hand at the hall. "Won't last. I might have married a Bolton, but I still remember my house words,"

"Lady Rosennis, you are wrong," Brienne said, blue eyes wide. "Winter will never come for the likes of us. Should we die in battle, they will surely sing of us, and it's always summer in the songs. In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining,"

How can you, of all people, think in such a way? It was one thing hearing such nonsense from her sheltered little niece Sansa, but quite another from a grown woman of eighteen, a trained warrior. How can a woman with a face like yours be so naive to cruelty and suffering? Ross was not ugly, but her distinctive features had earned her her fair share of snide remarks, judgements and snickering. She could only imagine how much worse it had been for Brienne.

"I knew a young knight who liked to think a little like that, once,"

"And what became of him?" Brienne asked.

Ross smiled sharply. "I believe that fat fool just showed us," Though Jaime, even when she first met him, had known that things were not as idyllic as that, simply wished they were.

"Lady Rosennis," Renly called down the table, saving a horrified Brienne from having to answer that. "I feel the need of some air. Will you walk with me?"

"Of course, my lord," She stood, and so did Brienne.

"Your Grace, give me but a moment to don my mail. You should not be without protection,"

"If I am not safe in the heart of Lord Caswell's castle, with my own host around me, one sword will make no matter," Renly smiled. "Not even your sword, Brienne. Sit and eat. If I have need of you, I'll send for you,"

"As you will, Your Grace." Brienne sat, eyes downcast, far too hurt for what was said.

Gods, I hope I never looked that much like a kicked puppy. Though Jaime surely would have laughed himself silly if she'd ever looked at him like that.

"This way, my lady," Renly took Ross' arm and led her from the hall, taking her up a staircase in a tower. "Perchance, is Ser Barristan Selmy with your son at Riverrun?"

"No," She frowned. "Why isn't he with Joffrey?"

"The Lannisters told him he was too old and gave his cloak to the Hound," Renly shook his head. "I'm told he left King's Landing vowing to take up service with the true king. That cloak Brienne claimed today was the one I was keeping for Selmy, in hopes that he might offer me his sword. When he did not turn up at Highgarden, I thought perhaps he had gone to Riverrun instead,"

"He has not. I doubt he will,"

Selmy's a Targaryen loyalist at heart... and wouldn't come anywhere near me looking for sanctuary. On her visits to King's Landing, Ross had made sure he knew exactly how deep her grudge towards the majority of Aerys' Kingsguard went.

"He was old, yes, but a good man still," Renly misunderstood, and Ross didn't bother to correct him. "I hope he has not come to harm. The Lannisters are great fools," He hesitated. "On the night of Robert's death, I offered your brother a hundred swords and urged him to take Joffrey into his power. Had he listened, he would be regent today, and there would have been no need for me to claim the throne,"

"Is that right,"

"He had sworn to protect Robert's children," Renly continued, missing the edge to her tone. "I lacked the strength to act alone, so when Lord Eddard turned me away, I had no choice but to flee. Had I stayed, I knew the Queen would see to it that I did not long outlive my brother,"

Or you could have waited a couple of hours and joined your strength to his when it all went to shit.

"I liked your brother well enough, my lady. He was a loyal friend to Robert, I know... but he would not listen and he would not bend. Here, I wish to show you something,"

Renly pushed open a wooden door at the top of the stairs, and they stepped outside. The surrounding land was flat, and even from the roof of this small keep, she could see leagues in all directions. Fires covered the ground, stretching impossibly, scarily far.

"Count them if you like," Renly said quietly. "You will still be counting when dawn breaks in the east. How many fires burn around Riverrun tonight, I wonder? I'm told your son crossed the Neck with twenty thousand swords at his back. Now that the lords of the Trident are with him, perhaps he commands forty thousand. I have twice that number here. And this is only part of my strength. Mace Tyrell remains at Highgarden with another ten thousand, I have a strong garrison holding Storm's End, and soon enough the Dornishmen will join me with all their power. And never forget my brother Stannis, who holds Dragonstone and commands the lords of the narrow sea,"

"Stannis," Ross said. "Do you truly think that Stannis would bend the knee to you? The man lives by his duty, and even if he did not want a crown, he is your elder brother, and would take the throne for that reason alone,"

"Let us be blunt, my lady," Renly laughed. "Stannis would make an appalling King. Nor is he like to become one. Men respect Stannis, even fear him, but precious few have ever loved him,"

That was true, but that didn't necessarily make him a bad King.

"Robb Stark is his father's son," She said carefully. "No decision has been reached as yet on this matter, but I know where my nephew's opinions lean. In his mind, Stannis has the right, so must have the throne. Likely the only reason he didn't argue it more strongly is that Stannis is as yet uncrowned,"

Renly shrugged. "Tell me, what right did my brother Robert ever have to the Iron Throne? Oh, there was talk of the blood ties between Baratheon and Targaryen, of weddings a hundred years past. No one but the maesters care about any of it. Robert won the throne with his warhammer." He swept a hand across the campfires that burned from horizon to horizon. "Well, there is my claim, as good as Robert's ever was. If your nephew supports me as his father supported Robert, I will gladly confirm him in all his lands, titles, and honours. He can rule in Winterfell as he pleases, so long as he bends the knee,"

"Let me be blunt with you, my lord," Ross said after a moment. "My nephew hopes to support Stannis, but I care very little who sits the Iron Throne far in the south. All I want is to take the crown from the cruel child who took my brother's head. Most of the Northern lords feel the same,"

A silence. Renly was about to speak, but was cut off as down in the yard below, the portcullis rose.

"Summon the King!" A rider urged his exhausted horse through the gates.

Renly vaulted up into a crenel. "I'm here, Ser,"

"Your Grace," The man rode closer. "I came swift as I could. From Storm's End. We are besieged, Your Grace, Ser Cortnay defies them, but..."

"But... that's not possible," Renly faltered, looking truly shocked. "I would have been told if Lord Tywin left Harrenhal,"

"These are no Lannisters, my liege. It's Lord Stannis at your gates. King Stannis, he calls himself now,"

Renly turned around to look at her.

"Like I said," Ross smiled tightly. "I care not who sits the throne, only who is most likely to take it from Joffrey and return my daughter and nieces to me. Remember that, my lord, and one day I might call you king," Without another word, she turned and swept back down the stairs.

*

Edited November 2024

Once again, there is some text here from A Clash of Kings, credits to George RR Martin. I try and minimise how much I copy, but some dialogue needs to be there for the conversation to make sense. 

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. There were some big decisions to make about the direction this story is going, which I needed to sort out before continuing. Right now it may seem rather similar to canon, I know, but I hope you can appreciate the subtle changes I've been working in, leading up to bigger things.

As usual, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter, so please comment or vote, it really inspires me to keep writing. Thanks to all my readers, especially those who have voted/commented already.