The journey from the Eyrie to Riverrun was hard, made even harder by Ross pushing to get there as fast as possible. They rode from dawn, with few breaks, and only made camp when it became too dark to go any further. The small pounch in her saddlebags, acquired from the Maester, weighed heavy on her mind. It was almost a relief to see the ugly mass of Harrenhal on the horizon; her daughter was now in reach. Ross' dreams had been filled of pale hands carrying Morganna away, tearing her apart.

Her family was there to greet her in the courtyard. Ren, Morganna - safe and well, thank the Gods - Robb, and a young woman who must be his wife. It was the first time she had seen Robb since setting off to meet Renly.

"Mother!" Morganna rushed forward before she even dismounted. "They said you were hurt? What happened? Where's Sansa?"

Ross let out a breath, bracing herself.

"I'm fine," She slid off her horse less gracefully than she ordinarily would, the stab wound still proving problematic, embracing her daughter tightly, assuring herself that Morganna was really here. "Sansa stayed at the Eyrie. It's a hard journey at this time of year - I would rather she be safe and comfortable, and travel to White Harbour by ship later,"

"Quite right," Robb looked heartbreakingly older since she had seen him last. "I am glad to see you, Auntie - you're no doubt as pleased by Joffrey's upcoming betrothal to Queen Shireen as I am. Ren wouldn't say anything until you were here,"

Her son shook his head. "I told you to trust that we would not let the war be for nought,"

Ross did not need to fake her displeasure. "We''ll talk on that unpleasant matter soon," She glanced at the young woman stood beside Robb. "But for now, congratulations,"

Her nephew seemed to have warmed up to his Frey wife, offering her a fond smile. "Thank you. I know you have met before, briefly, but for politeness' sake - Marianne, my aunt, Lady Rosennis St - Bolton," Robb had never known her as Lady Stark, and it was gratifying when even he slipped up. "Auntie, my wife, Lady Marianne Stark,"

She felt a flash of the same irritation as when Catelyn was first introduced as Lady Stark. Ross had not been permitted the name of her own house, despite being raised in Winterfell, with the look of her forefathers, the blood of the Kings of Winter in her veins, simply because society dictated she should be married. This frail, southron child wore her name instead.

Some of that must have come across in her face, as Marianne Frey's smile faltered, revealing the anxiety underneath.

"A pleasure to meet you, my lady," The girl curtseyed politely, hardly able to look her in the eye. "I am honoured that you chose me, of all my cousins, for Lord Stark's bride,"

Ross hesitated to respond to that; she had chosen the girl for her connection to the main Frey line, and for her likelihood of dying in childbirth. Luckily, she did not have to. A dark-haired blur in an ill-fitting blue dress dashed out of the castle towards them.

"Sorry!" The little girl came to a stop beside Robb. "I really didn't mean to be late, I was in the Godswood fighting with Hot Pie - "

Though she had grown a great deal, and her hair was short, Ross would have recognised Ned's daughter anywhere.

"Arya?" She hardly dared to pose the question, heart caught in her throat. For well over a year, she had feared her wild little niece dead in a King's Landing gutter.

"Auntie,"

The girl seemed unsure, so Ross closed the distance between them. Arya clung to her like a limpet; Ross was surely the first adult family member she had seen since Ned was killed. Her ribs could be felt through her dress, she was so thin, and the look in her eyes was worse.

"When you weren't in King's Landing with Sansa and Morganna, I feared the worst," She murmured to her niece. "What on earth happened?"

"A lot," Arya said, sounding choked. Those words promised the road to Harrenhal had not been easy.

"It's hard, coming back," Ross more than understood, stepping back and holding the girl by the shoulders to take her in. "It's what you prayed for all this time, but then you are back and nothing is the same - you are not the same - and no one knows what happened. They all care so much, but you don't want them to think poorly of you by telling them. You don't have to tell us anything, unless you want to. I'm just glad you're with us now,"

Some tension dissolved from Arya's whole stance. "Yes," She said, both surprised and grateful that it could be put into words. "That's exactly it. Thank you," She paused, changing the subject to avoid too much sincerity. "I hate this castle. When can we leave,"

"I hate it too," Ross said. "We'll leave as soon as possible - once the talks have finished,"

The whole castle was making her uneasy. Everything was vast enough to make her feel small, trapped. The monsterous walls were dwarved by the gargantuan towers, black and twisted in ways stone should never be. The stain of the Targaryens was strong here.

Ren scoffed. "Because that will be a quick and painless affair,"

"Quite," She said. "Ren, Robb, I want a word about the Vale. Fetch Loreon, too, in an hour or so. I need to bathe and change out of these clothes,"

Perhaps it was not her place to order around the Lord of Winterfell and demanded the presence of the Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, but they hastened to obey her regardless.

*

Morganna was even more clingy than usual after Ross had been away. Her daughter followed her up to her assigned chambers - which were too large, draughty and threadbare - and even waited on the other side of the modesty screen as she sank into a lukewarm bath, scrubbing the travel dirt off herself and trying not to notice the swell of her stomach. Ross had no desire to let her out of her sight at all.

They chattered about nothing of great importance, until Ross had dressed herself in a higher-waisted gown with a larger volume of skirts than normal - to hide her small but growing belly - and emerged from behind the screen, sitting down in front of the mirror to wrangle her hair. Morganna wordlessly moved to do it for her, taking the comb from her hand.

"I think he knows. About me, I mean," Her daughter attempted bravado, but the hints of anxiety crept through. From the ordinarily fearless girl, it was that much worse. "We've been here a few days already, and the way he looks at me..."

She knew that look well enough herself.

"I won't lie to you any longer," Ross met her eyes in the reflection. "Most likely he does know, or at least suspect. I will deal with it,"

"How?" Morganna dropped some of the mask. "If he knows, he knows, and then what will he do? I hate being this scared all the time,"

"Stay by my side at all times, or else keep Brienne with you," Ross said; the large woman was Morganna's sworn shield, and faultlessly loyal. "It won't be much longer, now,"

Her daughter's eyes widened a fraction, her brushing of her mother's hair pausing. "You mean - " She broke off as Ross raised a finger to her lips. "Alright," She swallowed. "Be careful,"

"Always,"

Looking at her reflection, and Morganna's behind her, Ross idly wondered what the baby growing inside her would become. Would it be a boy or a girl? Part of her wanted another boy, who would be able to defend himself with sword and shield, who she could name Eddard - or would that be too similar to Edrick? Perhaps a girl then. Eldarra? Not Lyanna. She could never name a child after her sister.

"What are you doing?" Morganna's narrow-eyed question interrupted her thoughts.

Ross realised with a jolt that she had been running a hand over her belly.

"What?"

"You just said you wouldn't lie to me anymore,"

She sighed. "I did, didn't I,"

"Well?"

"It is... as you believe,"

"You're - !"

"Announce it to the whole castle, why don't you,"

Morganna lowered her voice, smirking. "You should be lecturing me about such things, not the other way around. Well, now you have to kill him,"

The reply was so practical, so like herself, that Ross had to snort with laughter. "Precisely,"

*

Her meeting that evening was before dinner, with Loreon, Tyrion, Robb and Ren. She had not seen Jaime here yet, aside from a brief glimpse from the window of him walking with his sister Giana, and it was wise that he did not attend now. Not with her husband in the castle. Morganna was with Brienne, Marianne and Arya in the next room; close enough to hear if anything went awry.

"You look very in-fashion tonight, my lady," Loreon Storm said as she entered. "I thought you disliked such skirts?"

"This castle is draughty and cold. I need the extra cloth,"

More than a few eyebrows raised at that, knowing full well she liked the cold, slept with her windows open and was used to Northern winters.

"Do you wish to talk of the Vale, or my choice of gown, Lord Regent?"

"I suppose I should say the Vale," He grinned. "What is the verdict, then? Briefly,"

"Elbert Arryn rules for his young cousin as Lord Protector, with the full support of the lords, who have all sworn allegiance to you," Ross said. "Lysa and Littlefinger are dead,"

A shocked pause.

"When I said brief, that was incredibly so," Loreon said.

"Lysa is dead?" Tyrion looked delighted. "Who did it? I want to send them a gift,"

Robb shot him a dark look. "That's my aunt you are talking about,"

"You never met her, Robb," Ren said. "All due respect, you're better off that way,"

"Start from the beginning," Loreon said.

So she did. With difficulty, seeing as they interrupted her at every turn with questions and shocked exclamations.

"He stabbed you?" Ren seemed to be searching for a visible wound. "I knew you were hurt, but not that badly,"

"In the stomach," She said. "Luckily his aim was terrible - he hit a rib. That was why I was delayed coming here,"

"Not that delayed, considering," Tyrion pointed out.

She shrugged. "We pushed the horses hard to get here on time,"

"You must get the maester to look at the wound, Auntie," Robb said, concerned.

"Not Qyburn," Ren said at once. "Don't let that man near you,"

"Qyburn..." Tyrion said. "That rings a bell. Wasn't he dismissed from the Citadel?"

"You could say that," Her son said. "The men talk. He was dismissed for his gruesome experiments on live animals, corpses and patients,"

"Charming," Tyrion said. "No wonder Lord Bolton appreciates his company,"

"That would be amusing if it were not true," Ross muttered.

A pause. The four men glanced between each other.

"Shall we not beat around the bush?" Tyrion started. "We all know, here. My lady, what are you planning on doing about your husband?"

"Because something needs to be done," Ren said. "The way he's been looking at Morganna these past few days when he thinks no one is looking..."

"He is still a Stark bannerman," Robb cut in; this was clearly a discussion they'd had before, which she did not appreciate. "He would not dare do anything to his Stark wife. And I cannot reward his loyalty with murder, when the man has done nothing to warrant it,"

"So we wait until Morganna disappears mysteriously?" Ren said, eyes narrowed.

"We act first," Robb insisted. "Auntie, if you were go to him and tell him the truth, arrangements could be made. I'm sure that would not be a pleasant conversation, but Lord Bolton will not want to shame himself by announcing his wife's..." He fought for the right word, looking uncomfortable. "... affair to the world. We could offer to keep everything quiet, take on Morganna at Winterfell - he'd not need to have anything to do with her,"

"Or go the other direction," Loreon suggested. "Tell the world and appeal to Lord Tywin. He's a cold bastard, but anyone with Lannister blood - the blood of his golden son, no less - will have a place at Casterly Rock,"

"He's right," Tyrion grimaced. "I hate my father, but if he was willing to take Loreon - proof that Robert Baratheon had lain with his beloved daughter - he'll take Morganna. She would be safe there. Bolton wouldn't dare go against Tywin Lannister,"

Ross held up a hand and they all fell silent. She did not enjoy having the consequences of her actions discussed by everyone here, and nowhere had she heard anything that could solve the issue of a third bastard child.

"I am... grateful for your help. But you all have too much stake here," She said. "Robb, you are Bolton's liege lord. It is unfair to involve you in such things. Tyrion, you are a Lannister, and any role you have in this will destroy any peace talks if it is discovered. Loreon, both of those reasons apply to you. Unless there are any questions about the Vale, this is my problem to solve. I'll see you downstairs at dinner,"

He raised an eyebrow, no doubt remembering how they had conspired to murder Selyse Florent and Joffrey in the future, but kept quiet. After some grumbling, the three of them left reluctantly. Only Ren stayed behind.

"They don't know Bolton like you and I," Her son said. "He's a monster, Mother, and though he won't a public scandal, he will not let this go unpunished,"

"I brought poison from the Eyrie," She waved an impatient hand. "You don't have to persuade me to do anything,"

He laughed at that. "I shouldn't be surprised. How will you do it?"

Ross hesitated. "In person. I can't trust anyone else. He takes hippocras with every meal, but he'd be a fool not to have a taster. Either way, it would be hard to get my hands on the right bottle, and to seal it again after. I have aconite, which works through the skin. I could put it in his bed, or his gloves, perhaps. That, or poison a dagger with it and stab him myself, blagging it as self-defence,"

"Not that one," Ren said. "There's already rumours. Bolton dying at your hand would just add fuel to the fire. Aconite in his bed sounds the best option. I'd offer to do it myself, though the guards would never let me through,"

"No, you stay far away," She said, sighing. "What a mess. If only I had killed him the night before the wedding as I planned,"

*

It was not so much a feast that evening, more a simple meal shared with the entire garrison in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths before the arrival of Lord Tywin and his retinue the next day. There was music and dancing, however, and more than enough drinking. It was the first time Ross had seen her husband in months, as she entered the hall and crossed over to the high table, where a seat was left empty beside him. To Ross' left sat Marianne Frey, then Robb, and then Loreon in the centre. Jaime, Tyrion and Giana were on Loreon's other side. This was the first time Jaime had seen her around her husband, she realised.

To the right of Roose Bolton sat Morganna, and the sight of her daughter beside the man - who, from the faint smile he shot Ross, knew she wasn't really his - made a sharp chill run down her spine.

"My lady," Her husband's voice was as quiet as ever as he pulled out her chair for her to sit. "I trust your journey was untroubled?"

For a moment, it was as though his pale eyes could somehow see through the layers of fabric of her gown, to the slight curve of her stomach.

"It was fine," She said, as he sat back down beside her. "Autumn in the south is nothing like a Northern winter,"

"Yes," He smiled again. "My wife - cold as a Northern winter,"

"That could almost sound affectionate, from another man,"

"Another man, I am not," The smile remained, his arm resting on the back of Morganna's chair. "I was telling my dear daughter here what a lovely young lady she has grown into, in the time since I saw her last. I suppose she takes after her grandmother,"

Ross' eyebrow raised. "Lady Margaret?" He had better not say Joanna Lannister.

That earned a small chuckle. "I would not be so cruel. My mother was a shrew, Gods rest her soul. No, Lady Lyarra was quite the beauty, was she not?"

She could barely remember her own mother, who had died birthing Benjen. Though she knew that Lyanna and Brandon had both taken after her in looks. Morganna resembled Lyanna enough that, side by side at the same age, it would have been clear they were related, but the similarities stopped there.

"She was," Ross said, not elaborating.

Jaime was getting up from his seat and moving to speak to a group of the Lannister men-at-arms that had accompanied Tyrion, and for a split second met her eyes. She wished he hadn't. It made the whole thing that much harder. Ross had gotten used to operating on her own; Robb had sent Lord Bolton off with half his forces at the beginning at the war, and in that time, she had spoken on war councils, negociated treaties and played Kingmaker with Loreon Storm. It rankled, that now she was just someone's wife.

It was fortunate that Morganna was good enough of an actress to pretend as though nothing was wrong, even whilst Ross could see the unease in her daughter's eyes. She chattered on throughout the meal, and Bolton was apparently happy to play along, indulging her in a way that Ross could hardly stand. She attempted to speak to Robb, sat on her other side, but from the slight slur in his voice, he was growing increasingly drunk. Already? He had only been here less than half an hour longer than she had, and her nephew had never been a big drinker.

In fact, everyone seemed like they were going rather heavy on the alcohol. The three Lannisters were in stitches over something Tyrion had said, whilst the Northern lords were even more rowdy than usual, mingling with the Stormlords as the volume in the hall increased with each passing minute. The musicians were playing up to the energy of the crowd, the music getting louder and livelier. What had been intended as a simple dinner was fast devolving into something to rival one of Robert Baratheon's banquets.

Her husband left the table at one point and returned fifteen minutes later. The meal continued in relative civility, until Morganna unwittingly poked the ants nest.

"Father was saying before you got here that Aileen and Edrick have been writing to him,". "They are safe and well at the Dreadfort, in the care of a trusted castellan called Ramsay Snow,"

Ross froze for half a second, placing down her cutlery and looking directly at her husband. "For your sake, I hope that is a sick joke,"

"What's wrong?" Morganna frowned, concerned now, not understanding what was going on.

Pale eyes stared back at her, uncaring, amused. "Now, now, my lady. We have had this discussion before. I allowed your indiscretion to reside at the Dreadfort - surely it is only fair if you allow me mine without making a scene?"

"Do not pretend I am some scorned, jealous woman," She hissed, feeling Robb turn in interest beside her. "I could not care less about your indiscretions - whichever gutterborn farm wench takes your fancy is welcome to you. I care that your bastard is a vile, uninhibited animal who should have been put down years ago, and you have left him in charge of my children,"

Roose Bolton was unfazed by the venom in her voice. And this was where he truly made her feel uneasy, she had forgotten; nothing she could say to him would elicit any sort of feeling other than mild amusement.

"Ramsay is the strong leader the Dreadfort needs at the present, perilous time," He said. "His nature is as low as his birth, I grant you, but even rabid dogs have their uses. He will not be permitted to rise above his station, I promise you that. I would not let him endanger my children,"

Ross had nothing to say to that. Well, there was plenty to say, but nothing that would have an effect.

"What is this matter you speak of?" Robb asked, unsmiling, though drunk enough to be unable to focus.

"When we return North," Ross said to him. "I want you to sign a death warrant for Ramsay Snow. His crimes include countless murders, kidnappings, torture and rape. I want his head struck from his body and hung over the gates of Winterfell," She turned back to her husband. "And if he has harmed a hair on Edrick and Aileen's heads, I will make his death last for months,"

Robb blinked slowly, struggling to find the words for that. Even if he had been sober, he likely would have taken a moment to reply; Ross had never shown such a bloodthirsty side to him.

"Forgive my wife, Lord Stark," Bolton said, no longer smiling; his eyes were empty. "I am afraid she has misunderstood the situation. We will resolve this matter in private, later,"

His hand laid on top of hers in her lap, and she wrenched her arm away.

The meal was much less civil now. Morganna made her excuses early and went to dance with Arya, Brienne watching her like a hawk. Her husband left the hall, to do who-knows-what. Ren had been distracted by some pretty serving girl, and the two had slipped out of the hall together. Loreon was holding court in the middle of the room, surrounded by lords and knights, all of them roaring drunk. Jaime was amongst them, casting her a look every now and again; she wished it could just be the two of them in this hall, that no one else mattered. Even Robb had left with his wife, who claimed to be feeling unwell; she did look unwell, pale and clammy even for a Frey.

Ross remained in her seat, stewing in anger and sickening worry.

Giana Lannister slid ungracefully into the seat beside her. "You look far too angry for such a lovely feast,"

She turned to glower at her; the other woman barely flinched.

"Are you truly as simple as you seem, or is it just an act?"

Giana laughed. "My father's glares and Cersei's barbs have made me immune to such words,"

*

It suddenly struck Ross that she did not know where Morganna was. Nor Brienne. Surely they would have told her before going to bed. She cast her eyes around the hall, but was unable to catch a glimpse of either of them.

Enough of this. She took a torch from the wall and left the drunken feast, hurrying up the stairs, along the many corridors. Once she reached her daughter's chambers, she was out of breath, only to see that Morganna's door was open, no light coming from inside. A quick glance around with her torch showed the bed was still made; no one had been here. Where in hells was she, then?

Ross searched the entire inhibited wing of the castle. No sign of Morganna, no sign of Brienne. None of the servants or guards she passed seemed to know where they were either. Why were all the guards on duty Bolton men? Everyone else seemed to be getting drunk in the hall. Her own guards, even the ones who normally only drank a cup of wine, were amongst them, though she managed to find two who were relatively sober and took them along with her. When she found Arya, lurking near the Godswood, she had not seen Morganna either. She told her niece to get to bed, and continued the search.

"Milady?"

She jumped near out of her skin, only to see that it was a nervous-looking boy who had approached her from the other end of the dark corridor. He held a stub of a candle, and looked and smelt like he worked in the stables. What was he doing in this part of the castle?

"'Scuse me, L-Lady Bolton," He stuttered. "Sorry but I thought you should know. It's your daughter - I mean, Lady Morganna. She - she's gone,"

"Gone?" Ross loomed over the quivering boy. "What do you mean gone?"

"I caught her saddling her horse, Milady," The boy said, looking anywhere but her eyes. "I asked if she should be going out alone but she told me she'd report me to her father - Lord Bolton, sorry - if I didn't help her leave. Beg pardons, Milady, but I don't want to cross Lord Bolton. She's gone outside the castle, all alone,"

Something was wrong, she knew at once. Even Morganna would not be so stupid as to do that, nor was Brienne stupid enough to permit that. Even if she had done so, there would be a darker reason behind it. Or someone wanted her to think her daughter was gone.

"How long ago was this?"

"An hour or so ago, Milady, at least," The boy shrunk under her glare. "Pardons, Milady, I tried to tell you sooner but I couldn't find you,"

"Fine," Ross tried not to glare at him, he was just being used. Although if he says 'Milady' one more time... She took a breath. "Thank you. Can you tell me where Lord Bolton's chambers are?"

Her knife was hidden in her skirts, the small purse of aconite too.

"Course, Milady,"

The boy led her and her two guards through Harrenhal's maze of corridors, staircases and passages. He seemed to be taking her to the other side of the castle, which did not have many inhabitants. Unease prickled at the back of her neck, though did not outweigh the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach over what had happeend to Morganna.

Finally they stopped at a door which already had four Bolton men and, oddly, two Stark men stood outside. The boy let her in without knocking.

"What is this?" Ross stopped dead as she entered the room, seeing Robb sat in front of a desk that her husband sat behind. It was only Robb's two guards outside the door, and her own, that made her a little less on edge.

"Sit, my lady," Roose Bolton said. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No," She didn't trust the decanter he gestured to, and didn't bother with pleasantries, given their earlier argument. "What have you done with her? Why get that boy to tell me she left the castle? And why is Robb here, at this hour?"

He did not rise to her challenge.

"I recently received a concerning letter from Tywin Lannister," Her husband spoke in his usual quiet voice. "I believed it important to share its contents with you both, away from prying ears and eyes,"

"Go ahead, then," Robb was wary of what this letter would say. "All due respect, my lord, why would Lord Tywin write to one of my bannermen instead of myself?"

"That will fast become apparent,"

"Get on with it," Ross snapped.

He smiled faintly. "Lord Tywin has come to the conclusion - not unreasonably - that the young Lord Stark will never accept his grandson Joffrey anywhere near the throne, even if he does marry Queen Shireen. Influenced greatly, of course, by his aunt, Lady Rosennis," He inclined his head her way. "Considering the upcoming peace treaty between Lannister and Baratheon... that will not do at all,"

At that, she was on her feet immediately. "You didn't," She grabbed a confused Robb and dragged him back with her towards the door.

"What are you - ?" Robb was not quite himself from the feast - Bolton must have done something to the wine - and was slow on the uptake.

"He sided with Tywin," She cut him off.

Her nephew turned to her, blue-grey eyes shocked. Her husband was no longer smiling. There was a commotion outside the door, swords clashing and men dying. Four Stark men against two Bolton, but it sounded like there were a lot more than six guards out there now. Ross felt the situation rapidly spiralling out of her control, and did her best not to panic.

"Bolton, you fool," Robb drew his own sword and advanced.

Before he could do anything, armed, bloodied men burst through the door, one of them holding Morganna, a knife pressed to her throat. Robb's sword hung frozen in the air, as he took in the scene, knowing that one wrong move would kill her. He glanced at Ross, who shook her head minutely.

"You bastard," She tried to hide the pure dread that ran through her, heart pounding as she looked at her terrified daughter.

"It was a simple decision to make," Bolton said, nothing at all behind those pale eyes. "Lord Lannister will make my son Edrick and his descendants Lord of Winterfell, and myself Lord Paramount of the North,"

"In return for?" Robb's eyes were narrowed in rage.

Bolton simply smiled, regretful. "You must understand, my lord," He said. "All three of you need not die tonight. If you comply, your aunt and cousin will live,"

"You would murder me in a castle full of loyal allies?" Her nephew said with some scorn, putting on a brave face.

"Harrenhal is a big castle," Bolton replied. "And the music in the feasting hall is loud. Not to mention how much everyone enjoyed the strongwine this evening. No, my lord, you will die in this room, and no one will hear a thing. Tomorrow, your body will be found in your bed, and your little Frey wife will be blamed for the murder,"

Robb looked like the reality of the situation had just hit him. He had gone from untouchable to extremely vulnerable in a matter of hours. Ross, on her part, could not keep her hands from shaking. Thinking back throughout her entire life, she couldn't think of a moment when she'd been quite so scared.

"You can hardly believe I would keep this quiet?" She said. "You'll kill me the moment Robb is dead, Morganna too,"

"What a waste that would be," Her husband chided. "There is no need for you to die, Rosennis. Not when it is quite plausible that you tried to flee in the night with your daughter, to avoid the shame of everyone knowing where your bastards came from. Bolton men can bring you home, and I will magnanimously forgive you, though of course you will be disgraced and discredited from that moment forth,"

"And what of Morganna?"

"To her, I will be just as generous. I raised her as a daughter for eleven years, after all," He smiled. "Why, perhaps your bastard can even marry my own,"

She had no words to that, only the filthiest, most venomous of curses. Ross desperately tried to think of a way out. She should have expected something like this, should've been smarter, should've been more careful. It was too late now.

A wave of Bolton's hand, and the room descended into madness. The guards sprung into action, wrestling Robb to his knees. Her nephew fought the whole while, but strong as he might be for a boy of sixteen, there were six of them and one of him. Morganna was shouting, struggling, to no avail. Ross had her back against the wall, none of them deeming an unarmed, helpless woman worth bothering with. Perhaps that was her chance, that they would underestimate her enough that she could attempt one last desperate stand -

"Restrain her," Bolton said.

Her last hope sank as one man moved to grab her by the arm. She barely acknowledged him. Ross watched in numb horror as her husband slowly moved towards Robb, drawing a dagger from his belt.

"Traitor," Her nephew accused hoarsely, Ned Stark's eyes looking out from his Tully face at the man who was to murder him.

"No!" Morganna was screaming, crying, fighting against the two men who held her back. "No, don't, you can't kill him, you bastards, YOU CAN'T!"

They can.

Ross knew how this was going to go already. She had been through this before. No one was coming for them, no one would help them. But that didn't mean she couldn't try.

Until now, she had been unresponsive and still. Now, she suddenly threw all her strength into pulling away from the man who held her. It caught him by surprise, and she managed to slip out of his grip, rushing with her dagger drawn towards the four men who held her nephew down on his knees. Her blade sank into the neck of the nearest of the man, and the others barely registered their surprise before she had caught another under the arm, between the joins of his armour.

But she was too late. The guard she had escaped from grabbed her from behind, wrestling her into a tight hold and forcing her to drop the dagger, and Roose Bolton slit Robb's throat in a spray of blood. Her nephew met her eyes as the red line bloomed across his neck, for a moment looking impossibly young. And then he started to choke and cough, trying to take huge gasping breaths but his throat was cut didn't work properly, and Morganna was screaming and crying, begging.

Ross was released and dropped to her knees before him, a high-pitched ringing in her ears. Robb's weight fell into her arms as the guards stopped supporting his body. She clutched her nephew tight to her, arms wrapped around his dying body, embracing him like a mother.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I love you, I'm sorry," She was muttering feverishly into his ear as hot red blood poured down her chest and shoulders, his heart continuing to beat.

Robb coughed, and might've been trying to speak, but she knew from experience he would be unable with a wound like that. It was a grisly, brutal death. When he finally went still, Ross held him for a few moments more, her ears still ringing, only for his corpse to be snatched roughly out of her arms.

She was on her feet immediately, backing away from the men, snatching her knife off the floor where it had fallen nearby. She must've looked like a wild thing, drenched in blood, her hair a mess and the look of a cornered animal in her eyes. They were wrapping Robb up in a thick layer of sheets, they were taking him somewhere, to his bed to frame his wife.

Ross didn't know who to point the knife at. The guards by the door, preventing her from escaping? Those who were currently manhandling her nephew's corpse, having murdered him before her. The men holding her hysterical daughter? Her own husband, who had given the order for the whole thing?

"Think clearly, for a moment, Rosennis," Bolton's voice cut through the haze. "Be sensible. You will not be harmed, nor will your daughter, if you put the knife down now,"

She had just watched Ned's boy die and wasn't quite thinking at all anymore. He was lying, though, she knew that much. He really would kill Morganna, who was nothing to him, and make her live so he could see her suffer the pain. Seeing Robb bleed out in front of her had torn out another piece of her heart, but the idea of watching her daughter suffer the same fate was incomprehensible.

"I don't believe you," Ross said. Gods, she was not going to give up the one edge she had. "You'll kill her no matter what I do. Release her, let both of us leave,"

"That's not how this works," Her husband turned to the guard who held Morganna. "Cut the girl,"

Ross wasn't surprised but her heart still caught in her chest regardless. She had never felt hatred like it, even for Aerys, when the man obeyed, slicing a thin red line with his dagger down Morganna's arm. To her credit the girl barely flinched, though did wince, biting her lip.

"I'll say it again," Her husband said mildly. "Put down the knife,"

"You killed Robb," She said. "You murdered him in front of me,"

Bolton stared at her for a moment then nodded and her daughter was cut for a second time. Blood was flowing down her arm, her eyes already full with tears after seeing Robb die, which flowed freely down her cheeks.

"I will not harm your daughter any further," Bolton said, as the man continued to cut Morganna's arm without prompting. "Once you agree to put down the knife,"

It was as though this was simply a minor inconvenience. He could order his men to force Ross to put the knife down, he didn't have to do it this way.

"Stop slicing up a child and perhaps I'll be more inclined to listen,"

Morganna had a dozen cuts now, blood dripping from her fingers onto the floor. "Mother don't do it," She insisted even as the man cut her arm again. "He won't let us go, not after this,"

Oh sweetling... Ross wished her daughter hadn't realised that they were both going to die in here.

Tears poured down Morganna's beautiful face but she didn't cry out. She must have taken lessons from her mother, as she abruptly started to fight once more after feigned docility, so much so that the man holding her fumbled his knife. For one moment Ross thought the girl had done it, that she was free, that maybe, just maybe, they might both get out of this alive.

All that came out of it, however, was a new cut on her arm that went a lot deeper as the man tried to get a hold on the slippery knife. He cursed, seeing immediately it had done a lot more damage than he intended.

Ross' eyes widened in horror at the sight of all the blood now gushing out of her daughter's arm. "You vile whoreson!" She screamed with more than a small note of hysteria. "You've gone too deep, you've killed her, get a maester, get anyone! ANYONE, for gods sake. Please," She finally broke. "Please, please, I beg you, don't kill her too,"

The look on the guard's face told her that this had not been deliberate. But it was too late.

"Mother," Morganna's voice was slurred, scared. "Mother I don't want to d-die,"

She was unable to say a word. Ross' horrified eyes met her daughter's tear filled face and watched as those grey eyes closed and she slowly slumped, a deadweight in the arms of the man who held her, blood still oozing out of her mutilated left arm.

No sound left her lips but her mouth opened in a silent scream. This was worse than losing Brandon and Father, worse than Lya, worse than Ned and even Robb. To see her child die in front of her was the purest kind of agony; a feeling she kept thinking she was familiar with, but with each death the world managed to prove her wrong.

"You fool," Roose Bolton had turned to the man with murder in his eyes, but Ross' entire body had gone very cold, pain pressing down on her mind from all sides.

People had accused her before, often mockingly, of catching Aerys' madness. Only now did she feel like perhaps she really had. She would happily burn them all, in that moment, the whole world, Jaime Lannister be damned.

"An eye for an eye," Ross spoke aloud, voice hoarse and rasping, sounding like it belonged to someone else. She couldn't transfer her pain to someone else, but she could make them feel the same. "Your life for my child's," It broke on the last word.

The body of her youngest daughter was small and pale as she lay in a pool of her own blood. Robb, Ned's son, lay dead just over there, wrapped in a sheet. The entire room, even her husband, stood stock still. The dagger was still in her hand as she flung herself at him, the only thought in her head being to kill. She was quick, but he was quicker, and had no doubt seen it coming, because her next move wasn't hard to anticipate.

His knife caught her between the ribs and stabbed right through her heart.

*

Morganna's head was fuzzy, her vision blurred. It took her a moment to realise she was lying on the stone floor in a pool of blood. That would ordinarily disturb her greatly, but now she found that she didn't care. She was quite confused. How had she got here again?

Tilting her head took more effort than usual - she was weak, impossibly weak - but she moved just in time to see the dark figure of a lady glide across the room, the silver blade of a knife shining in her hand. A dagger was there to meet her, though, stabbing through her chest.

Morganna felt like screaming but didn't know why. When she remembered a few seconds later, she wished she hadn't.

"M-m-mother?" Her voice was a croak of a whisper, but her not-father's head snapped her way regardless, blade still buried in her mother's chest, a heart that would beat no more.

The man let go of her mother's corpse, and she crumpled gracelessly to the ground in a heap, like a rag doll.

"She's alive," His voice was calm, contemplative even amongst the gory scene around them. "Stem the bleeding. Someone fetch a maester who's discreet. Qyburn will do,"

Morganna saw the vague shapes of people moving around her, then her vision was reduced to a tunnel and then went altogether. She was so tired, she just wanted to sleep. No more mother. No more Robb. This must all be a bad dream. She would wake up soon.

*

...

Thoughts?

Edited November 2024