true6lṌṌṁ

trueblood

"a dark princess and a benevolent bastard"

YELENA BARATHEON
 "This is a shit way to die"

SNOWSTAG (YELENA + JON)

"But then came the sound of her voice, and he knew he was awake"

STORY AESTHETIC
"I chose to pick up my blade and keep fighting"
 plaṖlist

I'm a cynic, I don't believe in soulmates

But lover, you are mine

ℌṌlṁ Dn [ℭ.D.]
-- ❝Can you hear me screaming
please don't leave me❞
Ḹa7eaœaṖ [-]
-- ❝Before I love you, I'm gonna leave you
Before I'm someone you leave behind
I'll break your heart so you don't break mine❞

Saps [S.Ç.]
-- ❝I'm following the map that leads to you❞
 ḱatcṅ [Q.]
-- ❝Now I've got you in my space
I won't let go of you❞
ℌappier Ḹṅan ➹ṓer [&.➹.]
-- ❝I'd never treat me this shitty
you made me hate this city❞

ℑṃ ℑ Qieṁ ḱast Ligṅt [ỹ.S.]

-- ❝If I died last night
can't stand the thought of you getting that call❞

€titcṅes [€.S.]
-- ❝Needle and the thread, gotta get you out of my head
needle and the thread, gonna wind up dead❞
 prṌlṌgue

THE CHILDREN OF THE QUEEN HAD TAINTED BLOOD; blood of

their mother, and blood of their father, her twin brother. But she did have one
daughter with pure blood and pure heart. The one true heir, Robert
Baratheon's only legitimate child. She was beloved by both her parents, her
uncles and prided by her grandfather and two of her three siblings. The king
had almost expected to be disappointed when his first child was female, but
he couldn't help but adore her above the others. He gave in to her every
whim; when she wished to learn archery, he had the best trainer teach her all
he knew until she was better. When she wanted to take up sword fighting, he
found the best trainer there was, even forging the girl her own blades made
of the rarest materials; a sword of valyrian steel and an elegant dagger of
glimmering dragonglass. Though her hair carried some blonde from the
bleaching of the southern sun, every other strand was every bit as dark as her
fathers. She carried her mother's lovely green eyes but the shape of those of
her father. No one could possibly contest that this was his legitimate
daughter. She never took interest in gowns and ribbons, preferring instead
more practical clothing like pants, jackets, armor, but there was some kind of
authoritative elegance in the way she carried herself that turned every head in
the room when she walked or spoke. She was gorgeous and cunning and
smart, and she knew it too.
 cẦaẮtez one ~ дizeœolf

THOUGH YELENA WAS A PRINCES OF THE SOUTH, she was sent

every spring and summer to Winterfell. Cersei ached terribly for her daughter
back every single time, but Robert insisted it was the best way to secure her
relationship with the eldest of his old friend Eddard Stark's children, Robb
Stark. When Yelena was young her father had chosen the boy to be her
betrothed, the best possible way to strengthen their alliance with the north,
and ensure his daughter was in good hands when he let her go. And so it was
that she stood beside the boy who was like a little brother to her as he learned
to shoot; Brandon Stark.

Two of Ned Stark's sons, Robb and Jon stood on the other side of the boy
from Yelena as he let his arrow loose, missing the target by a long shot.
Robb let out the tiniest of chuckles, shrugging innocently when Yelena gave
him a look.

Jon placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Go on." He murmured

encouragingly. "Father's watching. And your mother too."

It was true that Lord and Lady Stark, who were like another set of parents to
Yelena, were watching just above. Bran nodded, reaching for another arrow.
This one went straight over the wall behind the target and both Jon and Robb
laughed this time. Yelena allowed herself the smallest of smiles, rolling her
eyes at the boys. At least Bran was trying.

"And which one of you was a marksman at ten?" Ned called from above.

Robb pointed immediately to Yelena. "Our very own princess here."

"Don't call me that." she snapped, knowing how aware he was of her hatred
of her friends being so formal. She didn't even enjoy wearing dresses, which
is why she stood decked out in pants, coat and boots.
"Whatever you say princess."

Had Robb been anyone but one of her best friends, she'd have skewered him
right there, but when the words were from his mouth, they elicited nothing
but a snort. Crouching down next to young Bran, she met his eyes, helping
him readjust his position. "You've got to tilt your elbow up a bit more, like
this. And don't think too much." she looked back at him. "Well don't look at
me, look at the target." she grinned, standing again.

"Relax your bow arm." Robb suggested.

The boy seemed about to loose the arrow when another slipped by, hitting the
target right in the center. They turned to see Arya Stark behind them, and
Yelena raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Well done Ari." she praised. The girl
gave a little bow, and then Bran was after her, the two of them giggling as
they chased through the courtyard.

Yelena and the boys laughed as they watched, shocked and impressed at
Arya's perfect shot. They chatted for a short bit before one of Lord Stark's
men came down to see them.

"My lords. My princess." He gave a little bow. "Lord Stark asks that you
meet him at the North gate to attend an execution."

Her eyebrows drew together, but she nodded, wondering in the back of her
mind what this one had done. She'd never been particularly fond of such
things, but as a member of the royal family, it was her duty to oversee them
when she was in the north. She headed off to grab her gloves and cloak, not
seeing the gaze of a Snow trailing after her; one of sympathy and maybe a
little longing.

It wasn't long before she rode up to the gate on her tan stallion, Dawn, the
horse she'd been riding since she was three.

***

She stood just ahead of Robb, Jon and Bran in her cloak of wolf's fur, trying
not to stare at the bloodstained ground and trying not to think of how much
she'd rather be doing anything other than permitting an execution. Her fists
clenched as she waited for them to order the man to his knees, once again not
seeing the sympathetic look Jon was giving her.

"I know I broke my oath," the man told Lord Stark. His eyes looked afraid,
but his body language told them he'd already accepted that there was no
escaping this. "I know I'm a deserter. I should have gone back to the wall and
warned them, but..." he shook his head. "I saw what I saw. I saw the white
walkers."

Though her heart sped up, she made no move, gave away no reaction. People
loved to come up with fantastical fantasies, and she supposed being that far
north, in the freezing cold, far from anything living but the wildlings and
direwolves for so long, it made sense that living like that could get you your
head. She thought it was much more likely he'd seen a thenn and gotten
frightened.

The man's desperate eyes landed on her before returning to Lord Stark.
"People need to know. If you can get word to my family... tell them I'm no
coward. Tell them I'm sorry."

When the man fell silent, Lord Stark nodded to the soldiers holding him, who
now forced him to his knees. Yelena kept her eyes hard as stone and fixated
on the scene unfolding before her; Lord Stark taking the large sword offered
to him by Theon, the quick breathing of the accused man, his whispers,
"Forgive me my lord."

When Lord Stark looked to her, she bit her lip to keep it still. The next words
were hers to speak. "I, Yelena of House Baratheon and House Lannister,
firstborn to King Robert of the Seven Kingdoms, Princess of Westeros, give
you, Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, my blessing
to execute this man on charges of treason, breaking of vows, and
abandonment of the Night's Watch." It wasn't the first time she'd done this,
but that didn't mean she'd ever wanted to do it again. She still didn't, but she
didn't dare intervene with the laws.

It was the northern lord's turn to speak now. "In the name of Robert of House
Baratheon, First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, lord of
the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the realm, I, Eddard of House Stark,
Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, with the blessing of Princess
Yelena of House Baratheon, firstborn to the king, sentence you to die." She
refused to flinch as the sword came down. She was a warrior, not some silly
little girl who would faint at the sight of blood.

She kept her breathing even, not missing the clear apology in Lord Stark's
eyes when they met hers. She shook her head, a silent reminder that she didn't
blame him for what the laws demanded of her. She turned, her feet carrying
her quickly away from the smell of iron in the air, back to her steed.

***

Yelena was the first off her horse at the slaughtered deer in their path. She
approached carefully, stopping not too far from it as Lord Stark slid from his
saddle to inspect it. Robb and Jon came to a stop at her sides. She frowned a
bit in confusion. It's shredded underside seemed to imply that it had been run
down by a large predator, but if that was the case, why did it sit here uneaten?

"Mountain lion?" Theon asked finally.

Lord Stark only shook his head. "No mountain lions in these woods."

"They're more southern creatures." Yelena told him. She followed suit as the
others started down a steep, half-trodden dirt path, hand resting cautiously on
the hilt of her sword. At the base of the slope, a direwolf lay dead, an antler
lodged in its throat, her puppies crying at her feet.

"It's a freak." Theon blurted.

"It's a direwolf." Ned told him firmly. "Tough old beast." Yelena grimaced a
bit as he pulled the antler from where it was embedded.

"There are no direwolves south of the wall." Robb said.

Jon sighed, standing from where he'd crouched beside the pups. "Now there
are five." He picked one up, offering it to Bran. "You want to hold it?"

The boy took the little fur bundle in his arms. "Where will they go?" He
asked innocently. "Their mother's gone."

"They don't belong down here." one of the men pointed out.

"Better a quick death." Lord Stark huffed, drawing a blade. Yelena's eyes
widened in horror. "They won't last without their mother."

"Right," Theon drew his own dagger as he approached Bran. "Give it here."

"No!" He cried, but Theon snatched it anyway.

"Put away your blade." Robb growled.

Theon shot him a distasteful look. "I take orders from your father, not you."

Yelena, however, was much faster than the arrogant boy. In a flash her own
black dagger was unsheathed, striking Theon's from his hand as she pulled
the wolf pup from him in the same smooth movement. She shot him a
withering glare. Her dagger slid away as she cradled the puppy gently in her
arms. That caught attention. Yelena almost never went against anything Lord
Stark said, feeling like she was far from deserving any authority as a princess
from the south, and she despised being treated as though she did simply for
her name. But Theon irritated her, and it angered her further that he would
kill such a small thing right out of little Bran's grasp.

"Please father!" Bran begged.

He looked about to respond when Jon spoke up. "Lord Stark!" he called.
"There are five pups. One for each of the Stark children. The direwolf is the
sigil of your house." he paused a moment. "They were meant to have them."
Yelena felt relief pool inside her at Jon's genius.

Lord Stark sighed, looking down firmly at Bran. "You will train them
yourselves. You will feed them yourselves. And if they die, you will bury
them yourselves." He sheathed his sword, starting back up the hill without
waiting for a response.

Yelena gave Bran a little smile, handing him back the pup he'd held as Jon
passed the others up to Theon and Robb.
"What about you?" Bran asked softly, looking up at Jon and Yelena.

"I'm not a Stark." Jon said simply, though Yelena knew it pained him.

She smiled kindly at Bran. "Nor am I, little one. You are the direwolves of
Winterfell." she gave a little nod up the hill. "Go on."

They started back up, but Yelena was stopped suddenly by Jon's hand on her
forearm, yet again showing how truly close she was to these people; had
anyone else done that, her mother probably would have had their hands
removed. She looked over at him curiously. "Jon?" but then she heard it too;
the yipping of little pups, still here somewhere.

"What is it?" Robb asked. Jon reached down, bringing two little pups back up
with him, one white as snow, the other blacker than midnight, both yipping as
they stared with innocent little eyes. Robb just smiled. "Looks like you two
got your wolves after all."

Yelena looked up at him, shocked. "Really?" He gave a nod before heading

up the hill. When she turned to Jon, he offered her the dark pup, a tiny smile
on his face. "Almost matches your hair."

Yelena chuckled, taking the fragile creature from him, ensuring she was
gentle as possible carrying it up the slope. "Lishay," she murmured under her
breath. "Your name is Lishay."
 cẦaẮtez tœo ~ 6etzotẦeд

YELENA FELT A FLUTTER IN HER HEART UPON LEARNING

HER FAMILY WAS ON THEIR WAY. She did miss them dearly every
year, especially her mother. Every child is born to love their mother, just like
every mother loves her child. She brushed out her dark hair into its soft
waves as Lishay slept on her bed. When she thought honestly though, which
was often given her straightforward manner, she wasn't too pleased that
Joffrey was coming. No matter how hard she tried, her brother was nothing
more than a backstabbing little prat. She sighed. Might as well ignore
whoever's company couldn't be enjoyed until they could be ignored no
longer. She dreaded the day he would wear the crown. The idea annoyed her
so much that for a moment she lost herself to a fantasy in her mind; her on
the Iron Throne, a sturdy crown of dark gold atop her head and her Uncle
Tyrion beside her, hand of the queen. She shook her head. A queen, a woman
who dared wield a sword leading Westeros was a fantastical dream, even for
her. Besides, she knew she was meant to be betrothed to Robb anyway,
something else she'd yet to figure out how to escape. She liked him alright,
but he was her best friend, like a brother to her, and she a sister to him. It felt
so wrong, especially when there was another who held her heart...

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knocking on the door. "Yelena?"

She smiled at the sound of the voice. It was time to go. "I'm coming, Sansa!"

Yelena stood by Lady Catelan's side in the courtyard, wrapped in a northern

dress that was somewhat suitable for a princess, but still practical enough for
her taste, the blue bringing life to her matching eyes. She chuckled as Arya
ran over, a helmet on her head only to be caught by her father. Yelena turned
to look behind her where Jon stood, giving him a sly grin and a wink when
their eyes met, enjoying the way his face flushed as he looked down.

A look of strong distaste passed over Yelena's face when Joffrey rode in, a
look that did not go unnoticed by her little brother, who glared right back at
her. She only sighed, directing her attention instead to the carriage and horse
riding beside it that brought a smile back to her face.

Her father sat astride the horse, looking serious as ever, but she smiled
anyway, even if only a small bit. It felt strange to watch the whole courtyard -
including her closest friends - kneel while she did not. It was her least
favourite part of being a royalty. She stepped toward her father as he slid
from the back of his horse to embrace her.

"It's good to see you, little doe." He told her.

She smiled at the old nickname. "It's good to see you too, father."

His face became serious again as he strode past her towards the Starks,
gesturing for everyone to stand. She held her breath, hoping he had no reason
to be angry with them. Everyone stood as he indicated them to, remaining
quiet.

"Your Grace," Ned inclined his head.

A second of silence passed before the King spoke. "You've gotten fat."
Yelena bit her lip to keep from laughing at the irony of the statement as Ned
raised his eyebrows, indicating Robert's own bulk with his eyes. After a
moment, both men burst out laughing, and Yelena allowed herself to grin as
they hugged. "Cat!" the king greeted, hugging Lady Stark as well.

"Your Grace." She smiled politely.

Yelena turned when she heard the carriage doors open, smiling. "Mother!"
she rushed into Cersei's embrace, having missed her mother dearly.

"Oh my girl! My sweet, sweet girl!" Cersei held her daughter close for a
moment before drawing back to study her face. "You've grown even more
beautiful since the last time I saw you."

"Well, what have we here?" Yelena turned to see Jamie Lannister grinning
down at her.
"Uncle Jamie!"

"You're mother's right," he told her. "You're growing into a fine young lady,
even among these northern winds."

She smiled challengingly. "The northern winds do nothing but make me

stronger."

He ruffled her hair. "Good lass!" he'd always taken pride in her strength and
swordsmanship.

Cersei rubbed her back soothingly, her irritated gaze on Jamie as Arya
whispered something about 'The Imp' to Sansa. "Where is our brother? Go
and find the little beast." she huffed a little breath in the cold air before
returning her eyes to her daughter. "Come, my love, let's prepare you for
dinner."

Yelena didn't protest as her mother and Septa spun her into a southern dress
of gold and red and pulled her hair up into a southern style she'd not used for
a few seasons now. She felt stiff and overdressed, unlike herself, but she
supposed she could stand it for a single night, if it made her mother happy.

"There you are," the queen smiled. "The lovely Princess of Westeros."

Yelena chuckled. "Thank you mother."

As she stood from her stool, Robert came in, looking as though he'd already
been drinking some. Cersei stood, rolling her eyes and walking past him
without a word, the Septa trailing behind her. She turned when she reached
the door. "You look beautiful, little cub. Join us when you are ready."

When the door closed, Yelena turned her attention to the king. "Yes father?"

He smiled at her. "Your mother is right. You've grown into a lovely young
lady. Certainly Robb will agree. He'll be escorting you tonight."

Yelena felt a tightness in her chest that for once had nothing to do with the
dress she wore. "And why might he be escorting me? I know these halls
as well as he does, as well as I know the walls of the castle I was born in."
He sighed, as if exasperated with her struggle to catch up, though had he been
sober he might've guessed that she already knew the answer. "We'll be
announcing your betrothal at the feast. As of tonight, it is enacted."

She sucked in a breath. "But I can't marry Robb! Yes, he's kind an honourable
and he'll make a lovely Lord of Winterfell someday, but I don't love him like
that! I never could!"

Her father frowned. "Kings, queens, lords and ladies marry all the time
without love. Just look at Ned and Catelyn."

"Or you and mother." she spat back, unable to stop herself. "You married
without love, father, and you hate each other! Nothing good ever came of it!"

He rose up to his full height, anger plain in his face. "You came of it, did you
not?! Dare you say such a thing again?!"

Yelena felt tears prick in her eyes. She was bold certainly, but she'd crossed
too far this time, and she knew it. But she wouldn't let her father see her cry.
She turned and fled.

**Jon POV**

Jon was in the courtyard just minutes before the feast was to start when she
came bursting through the doors. She was clearly lost in her own mind, with
no idea where she was going.

"Yelena?" He called to her, but she couldn't seem to hear him. It wasn't until
she blindly ran into his arms that the outside world broke in. She stopped,
lifting her head to meet his eyes, and it sent a jolt of panic through his heart.
Yelena was proud and strong, and he'd never seen her cry, never even seen
her come close, but now tears rimmed her heartbroken eyes, threatening to
spill over any second.

He stood there a moment with his arms around her, and he could feel the
coolness of her skin in her southern style dress that wasn't nearly warm
enough for a northern night, her hair in an unfamiliar but beautiful updo. An
impulsive wish flashed through his mind, that perhaps he could hold her there
in the circle of his arms, protect her from the sharp, freezing winds and
whatever it was that saddened her. But she was a princess, and he, a Bastard
and they could never be what he wished them to be. So he stepped back,
sliding his wolf cloak off his shoulders and wrapping it around her. "I know
you don't like dresses," he said trying to lighten the mood. "But there's no
need to be so upset about wearing one."

"If only that were all that upset me." her voice was soft, fragile even, sending
his heart racing again. Yelena was strong. What could possibly be pushing
her so far from herself tonight? So he stood before her there, his eyes trying
to read her beautiful blue ones, wishing there was something he could do. He
didn't have to wait long; Yelena had never been afraid to speak her mind, and
tonight was no different.

She bit her bottom lip, to keep it from quivering, he realised. "They're
announcing my betrothal to Robb at the feast." her voice shook. "It's about to
be official."

Jon had been preparing for the inevitability of this news for a while now, and
accepted it. He was a bastard of the north, a Snow. She was a princess of
Westeros. And yet he could never prepare for the feeling in his chest, like
someone had punched him in the heart and all the air had been sucked from
his lungs. But maybe he felt this way because he knew how she felt. There
had never been any kind of love declaration, but he'd seen the changes in her,
things that only happened with him and never with his brother; the way she
stood a little closer to him, the way she let their hands brush together just a
second too long, or the way she loved to make him blush with that smile of
hers. It always filled him with joy and astonishment, but it didn't matter now,
and never would again, because she was meant for his brother. And he could
never stay and watch that happen. All he could hope for now was an
honourable life serving at the wall. He breathed a long sigh. "We all knew it
would happen sooner or later."

She grasped his hands suddenly, making him suck in a breath. "But I don't
want to marry Robb. I never loved him. I loved... I love you." her last words
were almost a whisper, making him forget to breathe. He'd wished for so long
to hear it aloud, but...
"It doesn't matter." He said quietly. "It doesn't matter how we feel because
you're a princess and I'm a bastard. I'm going to the wall. We'll probably
never see each other again." The truth of it was beyond painful, but he
needed to face it, and so did she.

Her hands moved up to cup around his face. "We both know you're only
going to the wall because you think you have nothing else to offer this world.
But that's not true. You mean something, Jon Snow. You're worth more than
any other man I know."

As if her words hadn't had enough effect on him, her lips then moved to his,
soft and sweet. It was like an electric shock screaming through his body. His
mind roared that this was wrong, so wrong she was meant to marry his
brother, but the rest of him just wanted to stay. To wrap his arms around her
and never let go. But he couldn't. He pulled back, staring at her, his heart
pounding. "I can't- we can't- you're betrothed to my brother it's the law-"

"Fuck the law." his eyes widened. He'd never heard the princess curse before.
Her voice wobbled with desperation and the threat of tears. "Fuck the law,
fuck the betrothal, fuck all of it. All I care about is you."

He couldn't believe what he was doing, hating himself for hurting her like
this, but somehow he forced the words out anyways. "It doesn't matter. It's
safer this way. For both of us." it was all he could do to not collapse as he
turned and walked away. When he turned the corner, he heard something that
made his steps falter. And he wanted to cry as he listened to those awful, gut-
wrenching, heartbroken sobs.
 cẦaẮtez tẦzee ~ 6astazд

"WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?"

Jon froze at the voice. The voice that seemed to follow no matter where he
went. After leaving Yelena he'd gone to beat the hell out of a training
dummy. But now he could hear her again.

"You get married. You adapt, learn to love."

"I don't know how I'm supposed to do that... how I'm supposed to look at him
and not think..." She came into view on the other side of an archway, looking
miserable, his wolf cloak pulled tight around her shoulders as if to protect
herself from further pain.

"You'll learn, sweet cub." the other voice replied softly. Jon's gaze was
drawn to the short man beside her, a dwarf in fact. He'd heard about him
from Yelena; her Uncle Tyrion. The man seemed to see him too, his brow
furrowing slightly. "Why don't you head to your chambers? You should rest
after such a stressful night." After sending her off, the lord strode
purposefully under the arch toward Jon. "You must be Jon Snow." he said
matter-of-factly. "You made my favourite niece cry. I've never seen her cry.
Not even as a baby."

"Neither have I." Jon replied quietly, looking down.

Tyrion's eyes searched the boy, reassessing his thoughts on him at his
reaction. "You do love her don't you? But you're a bastard. That's why you're
going to the Wall. You're protecting her." That caught Jon's attention. He
looked back at the dwarf, who gave him a small rueful smile. "Good lad." he
said quietly. "You've spared her the pain of pointless hope." That wasn't quite
right, Jon thought as he remembered letting her kiss him, but he stayed quiet
as he walked away, the word bastard ringing in his ears. "Did I offend you?"
Tyrion called as he followed. "Sorry." He didn't sound very sorry. "You are
the bastard though."

Jon turned to glare at the man. "Is there a point you're trying to make here,
dwarf?"

"Let me give you some advice, bastard. Never forget what you are. The rest
of the world will not. Wear it like armor... and it can never be used to hurt
you."

Except when it tears me from the one I love. He thought bitterly. "The hell do
you know about being a bastard?"

The short man gave a little sigh. "All dwarves are bastards in their father's
eyes."

**Yelena POV**

The sounds of the party downstairs reached all the way up to Yelena's room
as she stumbled towards her bed, slowly unlacing the horribly tight dress as
she flopped down on the soft surface. As soon as she felt the safety of her
own bed around her, the tears came again, the sobs ripping themselves from
her chest. There was nothing left to do, nothing left to say. Jon had forsaken
her. She knew why he did it, but she'd hoped beyond hope that she might
convince him to stay, that she could run from this life forced upon her. She
could not. She felt her breaths come easier as a little bundle of warmth
snuggled into her, comforting her. She pulled the wolf into her arms, another
droplet trickling down her cheek. At least Lishay would never leave her.

Jon did not speak to Yelena the rest of her stay there, and it broke her heart.
She made peace with her father, which was much easier when he was sober,
and kept away from the eldest Stark brother. Being the kind man he was,
Robb gave her the space she needed, but she knew this was unavoidable.
After Bran's fall she visited the poor boy every day and did her best to raise
Lady Catelyn's spirits, but in the end it proved useless. Catelyn feared for her
little boy more than ever and Yelena walked out feeling a little more crushed
every time.

She sat with her family their last morning at Winterfell, feeling sadder than
ever. She couldn't say goodbye to her best friend, couldn't even look him in
the face because of their betrothal. And Jon... she bit down on the thought
like the cruel little bug that it was. It was then that Tyrion came in, scooting
over Tommen to sit beside her while he ranted about what he wanted for
breakfast, bringing the smallest of smiles to her face.

"Little brother." Jamie said, giving him an odd smile.

"Beloved siblings and niece," he replied.

"Is Bran going to die?" Myrcella asked softly, making Yelena's breath catch.
She knew her sister meant no harm, but it worried her all the same.

"No, Myrcella, he'll be alright." she forced a weak smile before returning her
gaze to the untouched food on her plate. It seemed like her entire life with the
Starks was falling apart in a matter of days, and it hurt more than she wanted
to think about.

Tyrion shrugged. "True from what I've heard, at least."

"What do you mean?" Cersei asked softly.

"The Maester says the boy may live."

Had she not been so distracted, Yelena might have noticed her mother's
hesitation to respond. "It's no mercy, letting a child live in such pain." she
said finally.

"Only the gods know for certain." Tyrion said simply. "All the rest of us can
do is pray." he reached for more bacon. "The charms of the north seem
entirely lost on you."

"I still can't believe you're going." Cersei snapped quietly. "It's ridiculous,
even for you."

"Where's your sense of wonder?" He demanded. "The greatest structure ever

built, the intrepid men of the Night's Watch, the wintery abode of the white
walkers." his voice took on a deep and spooky tone at that last bit as he
leaned toward Tommen with a grin, making the boy laugh.
"Tell me you're not thinking of taking the black." Jamie cut in, giving his
brother a look.

Tyrion snorted. "And give up the pleasures of life?" He replied, referring to

the vow that swore off women. "The whores would go begging from Dorne
to Casterly Rock!" he shook his head. "No, I just want to stand atop the Wall
and piss off the edge of the world."

The queen shot him a glare. "Keep your preferences to yourself. The children
don't need to hear your filth." he only smiled, wiggling his eyebrows at
Myrcella and making her giggle.

Yelena stood suddenly, her eyes holding a small, wild spark. "Excuse me."
she whispered, before turning and hurrying off.

Cersei looked after her daughter with concern. "My dear little cub..." her
gaze went from the doorway to Jamie, who exchanged a worried glance with
her, to Tyrion. "You spoke with her the night she missed the feast, did you
not? It must be something more than just marriage arrangements, especially
seeing as she always speaks of the Stark boy as a close friend."

Tyrion sighed. "Well if I went around telling your daughter's secrets, she
wouldn't tell me her secrets, would she?"

Her eyes filled with flame, her voice venomous when she spoke. "If you care
about her so much then you must know that her mother should be able to be
there for her."

Tyrion let out a long, drawn out sigh. "Apparently she's fallen in love with
another."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

***

Yelena locked herself in her room to pack her things and take her cloak and
gloves for the road, already in her simple gear as Lishay wound playfully
around her legs. She felt her mood lighten a bit at the quickly-growing wolf's
cheerful manner. She knelt down to her furry friend, scratching behind her
ears. "Hey girl." She murmured. "Ready to go see King's Landing?" The pup
yipped at her impatiently, and she smiled sarcastically. "Yeah. I can't wait to
go deal with all of Joffrey's horse shit again."

When she'd finished packing, she headed out to saddle up Dawn, ready for
the long trip ahead, but something stopped her. Across the courtyard she
could see her Uncle Jamie speaking with Jon, but Jamie's eyes were hard, and
the young man before him was looking increasingly agitated and
uncomfortable by the second. Without thinking, she called out. "Uncle
Jamie!" He turned, eyebrows raised, his expression becoming softer when he
saw his niece. He looked back, saying one final thing to Jon before striding
off. Yelena and Jon locked eyes for a long moment, both looking uncertain.
Yelena's stomach churned with agitation, but she took a deep breath, steeling
her nerves before turning on her heel and walking off with her head high.

When she did reach the stables, she stopped at the sound of a small voice
behind her. "Do you really have to go?"

Yelena turned to see a small curly haired boy standing sadly behind her; the
youngest Stark. "Oh, Rickon." she opened her arms to him and he jumped
into them, hugging her tightly. "I'm going to miss you so much." She pulled
back to look him in the eyes. "I'll tell you what, when I come back, I'll bring
you a present from King's Landing, alright?"

The boy's eyes brightened. "Yes!"

She chuckled. "Go on then. Shaggydog's waiting for you."

Finally Yelena led her horse from the stable, Lishay trotting along beside
them.

"Yelena!" She stiffened at the voice. Robb. Part of her wanted to flee, but the
other part of her scolded, saying that'd be horribly rude, and despite her
current despair, he was still her best friend. So she turned just as he came up
behind her, trying to smile. He sighed. "You don't have to pretend to be
happy, Lena, I know you've been avoiding me."

She looked down. "I'm sorry, I really am being horrible. I never meant to hurt
you."

He chuckled. "I'm not hurt, I'm worried. Jon's going to the wall. He may
never come back. Will you try to forget? For your own good, at least?"

Her eyes widened. "You know?"

"Of course I know." he laughed a bit. "Neither of you were ever very good at
hiding it. I only want to help."

For the first time in a little while now, she smiled a real smile. Small, but real.
"Thank you, Robb, for understanding. I should have come to talk to you
sooner."

He grinned. "Just don't freeze me out again, okay? I'm supposed to be the
northerner here."

She laughed, stepping forward and pulling him into a hug. "Thank you." she
told him. "You're a better friend than I deserve."

Riding out of Winterfell, Yelena was hit with a horrible dizzying feeling,
like she was making a terrible mistake. She looked back at the gate,
wondering how long it would be before she returned here. Unconsciously,
she reached up to the wolf pendant on her throat, hidden under her cloak
alongside the lion pendant. It had been a gift from the Starks her third year in
the north when she was ten. She was glad to be bringing a piece of this place
with her. With a whistle, she called Lishay to her side, riding up to the front.
A month of travel might end up feeling like forever. She didn't see the
beautiful brown eyes that watched her go sadly, certain he'd never see her
again. But she did look back once, just long enough to see him gallop away
in the opposite direction, and for a moment, she allowed herself the
heartbreak. It was time to accept reality.
 cẦaẮtez fouz ~ mặ laдặ

WHEN THEY ARRIVED IN THE FIRST TOWN, Joffrey finally made

himself a bother to his older sister. "A direwolf, princess? Really? What are
you a Baratheon or a Stark?"

She shot him a venomous glare. "More Baratheon than you, little brother."
She snapped. She thought sometimes, that if mother didn't love them both so
dearly, they'd rip each other to shreds.

Later, Yelena watched from a low tree branch with a smile playing on her
lips as Arya and the butcher's boy played at swords with sticks. "Keep your
hips balanced over your feet, and elbows up!" she suggested from her perch
on the tree. Her expression turned sour, however, when Joffrey showed up
again, Sansa trailing behind him.

"Arya!" Sansa cried.

Distracted, the girl let a blow hit her shoulder. "Ow!" she muttered at the boy
before turning back to her sister. "What are you doing here?" she snapped.
"Go away!"

Yelena watched with furrowed brows from her perch as the scene unfolded.

"Your sister?" Joffrey chuckled. "And who are you, boy?"

"Joffrey, leave them alone, you little ferret." Yelena warned. It was a nasty
nickname she'd used ever since he dragged her by her hair when he was only
three.

He just shot her a glare. "He can answer for himself, can't you, boy?"

"Mycah, my lord." the boy replied nervously, dropping the stick.

"He's the butcher's boy." Sansa criticised.

"He's my friend!" Arya informed her sister irritably.

"A butcher's boy who wants to be a knight, eh?" Joffrey smirked.

Yelena jumped the short distance to the ground. "Joffrey!"

He ignored her, drawing a fine blade that he was not fit to own. "Pick up your
sword, butcher's boy, let's see how good you are."

Yelena jogged forward, smacking her brother's arm back. "Stop it!"

"She asked me to, my lord!" The boy insisted, clearly afraid.

"I'm your prince," Joffrey spat. "Not your lord. And I said pick. up. your.
Sword."

"It's only a stick, my prince!" the boy protested.

"And you're not a knight." Joffrey's impatience finally got the better of him,
and he raised his sword to strike, but when it came down, metal struck upon
metal, steel ringing out against Valyrian Steel.

Yelena used her sword to shove his back, glaring with the force of a thousand
suns. "Well I'm the princess," she hissed, in the same tone Joffrey had used
on the boy. "And I said that's enough." but the prince was more pride than
mind, and she had just wounded that pride. This time, when he struck, it was
against her. She blocked easily, delivering two of her own blows that he
barely blocked. Sansa watched in horror, begging them to stop, while Arya
looked on in amazement. The two battled back and forth until he finally
landed a thin scratch across her cheek. But when she looked up, her
expression was smug. "Oh please," she taunted. "You were never as good as I
was." Once again it was block and parry, block and parry, parry until Yelena
landed a cut on her brother's face that was the mirror image of hers.

In his rage he turned blindly, and that's where everything went even worse.
He swung twice, barely missing Arya both times, but that was more than
enough for her direwolf. Nymeria came charging, clamping her jaws down
firmly on Joffrey's arm, making him fall back. Joffrey screamed, Sansa
screamed and Arya called her wolf back, but it was relentless. Finally Yelena
was able to pry the animal off, but the damage was done.

"Arya!" Yelena grabbed the girl's shoulder. "We have to go." She said
quietly. "We have to get Nymeria out of here. They'll kill her for this." with a
whistle for her own wolf, Yelena ran off, Arya right behind her. When they
were deep enough in the woods, Yelena nudged her away and turned back
towards the sound of soldiers tromping through the underbrush. "Send her
off. I'll distract them." and so she did, leading them off into what she hoped
was entirely the wrong direction. She prayed that Nymeria wouldn't run this
way. But there was nothing she could do but protest when Jamie brought
Arya before the King.

She was there with her arms protectively around the girl when Lord Stark
returned. Arya apologised again and again, but it didn't change the fact that
Yelena's little bitch of a brother was going to get his way. Again.

"I'm sorry." Yelena whispered helplessly to the man who was like a father to
her. "There was nothing I could do."

He gave her a reassuring nod before fixing his glare on Robert. "What is the
meaning of this?" he demanded. "Why was my daughter not brought to me at
once?"

"How dare you speak to your king in that manner?" Cersei's voice was both
soft and threatening, but Robert only scoffed at her.

"Quiet, woman." He huffed. "Sorry Ned, I never meant to frighten the girl.
But we need to get this business done quickly."

"Your girl and that butcher's boy attacked my son." Cersei told him. "That
animal of hers nearly tore his arm off."

Yelena glared at her brother with murderous rage. "Is that what you told
them, you little twat?!" She snarled. "That a child, a little girl kicked your
ungrateful arse into the dirt?!"
Cersei looked stricken. "Yelena!"

She whirled on her mother. "I attacked him!"

Her father sighed. "It's sweet of you to protect her, little doe. I know she's like
a sister to you-"

"You think I'm lying???" She demanded furiously.

Joffrey snapped his head up. "Of course you are you stupid bit-"

"ENOUGH!" Robert glared at his children, though his anger was mostly
focused on the one that called his little girl a bitch. "You both tell me
different stories, and while I don't know my daughter to be a liar, I do know
her to be loyal, which means she'd lie for the girl if she had to." He huffed.
"Where's your other daughter, Ned?"

"In bed asleep." The lord's tone warned that they would not be dragging her
from her sleep for this.

"She's not." Cersei said. "Sansa! Come here darling." The crowd parted for
the young redhead as she approached the queen.

"Now, child," Robert's voice had taken on a calmer tone than before. "Tell
me what happened. Tell it all and tell it true. It's a great crime to lie to a
king."

The girl hesitated a moment, but spoke nonetheless, her voice slightly shaky.
"I don't know. I don't remember. Everything happened so fast. I-I didn't see."

"Liar!" Arya cried, grabbing her sister's hair before Lord Stark pulled her off.
"Liar! Liar! Liar! Liar!"

"Sansa, please." Yelena begged.

"That one's as wild as her animal." the queen nodded to Arya.

"Damn it, children fight." Robert snapped. "It's over."

"Joffrey will bear these scars through the rest of his life." She insisted.

"Good!" Yelena snapped. "He deserves the reminder of what happens when
you go after an innocent child."

"That is enough, Yelena!" her mother cried.

"NO IT ISN'T!" She was beyond sick of this lying little shit winning. Why
could nobody else see what he was? "HE'S AN EVIL LITTLE CUNT AND
I'LL NEVER STOP REMINDING HIM UNTIL HE'S DEAD!"

She heard the calls behind her as she whirled, stalking out of the room, but
she wouldn't listen. She refused to listen to people who believed she would
lie to her own family, people who couldn't see right through her brother's
shitty little act. And she kept walking, even though something in her gut told
her she'd made a mistake insulting him so publicly like that. The future king
of Westeros. Well, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

Outside, she ran. She ran and ran and ran with Lishay right beside her. She
already knew what they were doing to poor Lady. So Yelena sat on the shores
of the riverbank where she dueled her little bitch of a brother, running her
fingers through the comforting fur of her wolf. "Don't worry Lishay." She
murmured. "I'll never let them hurt you."

***

As much as she hated to admit it after what happened with the direwolves, it
did feel good to be back home again. Though by now, Winterfell had become
every bit as much home as King's Landing, and Lishay proved it.

As soon as she arrived at the Red Keep, she locked herself away in her
rooms, refusing to speak with anyone who wasn't a Stark, Myrcella or
Tommen. And of course there was her lovely wolf, growing quickly into a
companion nearly fit for battle as well as play fighting. As she sat on her
windowsill, fingers gliding over the seashells there as she watched the birds
of the south glide by, she wondered if Jon had made it to Castle Black by
now, wondered if Bran was awake, wondered how Robb and Rickon were
doing. Her body may have been drenched in the warmth of the southern sun
of King's Landing, but her mind was far away into the cold north. And that
was the way she liked it.

**Jon POV**

Every time he trained his mind came back to her. The glint in her eyes when
she was about to fight, the way her lips twitched when she knew her
opponent was outmatched, but was in no hurry to win. The way she'd laugh
when she beat him, pinning him to the ground below her, their faces inches
apart. He shook off the thoughts. They were his dreams, but they were also
his poison.

"Broke my nose, bastard."

Don't call him that! The memory washed over him quickly.

Some jerk of a guest lord's son called him a bastard, but Yelena wouldn't
have any of it. "Don't call him that!"

"Oh yeah?" the boy taunted. "And what's the pretty little princess gonna do
about it?"

She glared darkly at him. "Try it again," she growled. "And I'll feed you to
the stags and the wolves." she was only nine, but she was quite the
fireball already.

The memory dispersed as quickly as it came, and Jon was faced with reality
again. He turned, watching the Crow-in training for a moment before
smirking. "It's an improvement."
cẦaẮtez fiẴe ~ mastez of œẦisẮezs

**Yelena POV**

YELENA SAT ON HER BED IN SIMPLE CLOTHES, reading tales

about white walkers as the birds chirped outside. Her room was decorated in
yellows, golds, reds and mahogany. A fire burned constantly in the hearth,
tended to by the princess herself rather than handmaidens and everything
seemed to sway brightly in the breeze. She did have two handmaidens, Rose
and Aurora, but she didn't ask much of them, preferring to do things herself.
She was reading about the way the walkers could turn one with a touch,
transforming the eyes into a brilliant blue when a knock sounded at the door.
She looked to Lishay, but the wolf just barked happily, tail wagging.

"It's Lord Stark, my Princess." the guard informed her.

Wasting no time, she jumped off the bed, flinging the door open. She sighed
at the guards. "Shoo for a minute will you?" When they left she gave him a
rueful smile. "Lord Stark. Might I ask the nature of this visit?"

He smiled. "I have some good news." She raised her eyebrows, urging him to
continue. "It's Bran. He's woken up. They think..." he sighed. "They think
he'll never walk again, but he's alive and well despite it."

She blinked, a smile slowly crossing her face. "That is good news. Thank you
for informing me." On the one hand, it was terrible that Bran would never
walk, but he was a clever boy, and deserved to live. He nodded, seeming
about to leave, but the whole exchange had felt far too formal, so she jumped
forward to hug him. He was off balance for a second, but quickly steadied
himself with a chuckle.

When she stepped back, he smiled. "Good day, Princess."

***
When she could no longer stand it, Yelena walked to her desk on top of
which sat tiny wreaths of dried flowers, pulling out parchment, ink and a
quill. She dipped the quill into the black, but froze mere milimetres from the
paper, the words Jon Snow seconds from being written. Her hand shook
slightly, and she finally dropped the quill. There were no words he would
want to hear from her.

Yelena continued to spend her days reading, training at the sword and bow,
and training Lishay as her direwolf grew, teaching her to attack with a snap
of her fingers, and fall back again with only a whistle. She read of
whitewalkers, and imagined it was them her sword plunged through instead
of a dummy. She read of wildlings, and saw their furs and faces when she
subdued her trainers. When she hit a bullseye, she pictured it as the kill that
would keep her alive in the long night. She fought her trainer, she fought The
Hound, she fought her Uncle Jamie. She did everything she could to keep her
mind from straying north again. Tyrion was right. It was time she made
peace with the terms of her life.

Through the days her parents would check on her, hoping that perhaps she
would lay off a bit and let herself rest, but the suggestions fell on deaf ears.
There would be plenty of time to behave as expected after the stress of an
impending wedding had passed.

Finally the tournaments were beginning, and Cersei burst into Yelena's room
with the princess's septa whom the girl hadn't let in for days. It was time to
prepare for the games. Her dress was a simple olive green with a few gold
patterns and a shawl embroidered with lions and stags. A thin circlet rested
delicately atop her southern updo, feeling like it would fall off at any
moment. She prayed it would. She kept her wolf pendant around her neck,
but well hidden, knowing the sight would not please her mother in the
slightest.

She sat in the stands between her mother and Joffrey as her father drank.
Thankfully, her brother was pointedly ignoring her. Though she was indeed
outspoken, Yelena would hate to disappoint her parents again.

"I've been sitting here for days!" Robert finally shouted, rising. "Start the
damn joust before I piss myself!"
Yelena sighed, used to these sorts of embarrassing moments by now. Her
mother didn't seem all too pleased either. As the king took his seat again, the
queen rose and strode quickly off the dais. Yelena looked after her, wishing
she could follow. The Mountain approached on his horse and bowed, the coin
master Lord Baelish catching the princess's eye as she watched. The man was
speaking with Sansa, something the Princess found a bit worrying.

"Yes, yes," her father grumbled. "Enough of the bloody pomp. Have at him!"

She looked on as the two rode to opposite ends of the track, keeping half an
eye warily on Littlefinger the whole time. She watched them charge one
another on horseback when the horn sounded, jousts at the ready. The first
pass was a near miss, but the men were already preparing for another. The
second time, the Mountain's joust went straight into the knight's throat,
shredding his armor and knocking him from his mount. Gasps and cries rang
out, but Yelena only watched on with eyebrows raised. It wasn't that she'd
expected the Mountain to lose, only that she'd heard such praise of Ser Hugh
that she'd expected more. She watched him splutter blood for a moment
before laying still. Her gaze turned to her siblings and the Stark girls with
concern; it was a horrible thing for a child to witness.

After the sandy stretch had been replaced to cover the blood, a new
contestant took up his reins. Yelena noticed Lord Stark approaching his
daughter, and gave him a little nod that he returned.

The contestant was now Ser Lorace of High Garden. This time, she was
worried. He was a good friend of her Uncle Renley, and didn't want him to
die. After presenting a rose to Sansa, he rode up beside the Mountain to give
a bow. At the King's nod, the men set off to take their positions. She took a
breath. Lorace could do this. She'd seen him joust a hundred times. He was
quick and he was smart.

The horn sounded and the men charged on their steeds. And Ser Lorace
prevailed, succeeding in knocking over not only the Mountain, but his horse
too. Renley laughed triumphantly, practically glowing at his friend as he
clapped. The Hound too, wore a look that was nearly satisfaction on his face.
She could see Renley and Littlefinger taunting, but paid no mind. Lords
quarrelled all the time.
The Mountain, however, appeared to be worth concern. He was livid when
he tossed his helmet to the ground, calling for his sword. As Lorace bowed to
the King, the Mountain used his sword to cut down his own horse, eliciting
gasps everywhere. He swung again at Lorace, who barely evaded the blow,
toppling from his white horse.

When he struck twice more, hitting only the shield, it was The Hound who
intervened, rushing forward to cross swords with his brother. "Leave him
be!" it quickly turned into a sword fight between the two hulking men,
neither of them outmatched.

Yelena turned to Robert. "Father!"

He quickly came to his senses at that. "Stop this madness in the name of your
king!" he shouted, rising. The Mountain threw down his sword and stormed
off, unchallenged.

"I owe you my life, Ser." Lorace told the Hound.

"I'm no Ser." the man muttered. But Lorace grabbed his hand regardless,
raising it high as cheers and applause erupted.

***

The next few days passed rather uneventfully, leaving the Princess to her
thoughts and her training once again. She began to make attempts to fix
things with her parents too, which didn't take long given their adoration of
their firstborn girl. At dinner with her mother, she finally apologised for her
ungratefulness and wretched behaviour.

"There's nothing to forgive, little cub." her mother assured her, reaching over
to take her hands. "Betrothal is a hard matter to accept sometimes, especially
if your heart lies with another." she smiled softly at her daughter's shocked
look. "Yes, my darling. I'd know that look anywhere. The look of lost love."
she tucked a piece of hair behind Yelena's ear. "I don't know who he is, but
he must be wonderful to have stolen the heart of my little cub. But you
should know that true happiness can be found in marriage, especially when
you consider the strong bond you have with your betrothed already."
Yelena only nodded, smiling weakly. "Thank you, mother."

Her father simply laughed the matter off, telling her all was forgiven long
ago. "Trust me little doe," he said. "I'm not looking forward to sending you
North forever either. But it's best for you, and for Westeros."

Weeks later, she discovered by accident that Lord Stark was leaving. He'd
had a fight with her father, a serious one from what she gathered and he and
the girls were going back to Winterfell. But why? What could cause so much
tension? She reluctantly turned to a source she trusted, and yet did not. He
had never lied to her, but his words could often be riddled, intended to send
her snooping where she shouldn't be and get her into trouble. That bit usually
resulted in her being kept far from the information she sought until it was no
longer useful.

And so she found herself knocking on the door of his study. "Come in!"

She cautiously opened the door, her eyes settling on Lord Varys behind his
desk. His expression became one of surprise. "My Princess," he stood, giving
a little bow. "How may I serve you?"

The girl let out a breath before speaking, true to her blunt and honest nature
for all time. "Lord Varys, you attend the Small Council meetings, correct?"

A small knowing smile crossed the man's face. "You wish to know why Lord
Stark returns to Winterfell." she nodded. "Well, you likely already know he
fought with your father,"

Her eyebrows knitted together. "But what about? I've never seen my father so
angry at him before." She rolled her eyes when the Master of Whispers only
continued to study her. "Out with it, or I'll find out some other way!"

A curt nod was the only move he made before speaking, the straightforward
manner of his words taking Yelena by surprise. "Daenerys Targaryen has
wed a Dothraki Khal. The king wants her and her brother dealt with before
they can cross the narrow sea. Lord Eddard-"

"Is an honourable man and would never do such a thing to a girl little more
than a child." Yelena finished, nodding. "Of course."

He gave her a quick smile before excusing himself to continue his work,
while the Princess tried to figure out how to keep her fragile world afloat...
again.

She found her answer before long. It was the same as it had been for weeks
now; sleep, eat, read, train bow, train sword, train wolf, eat, read, train sword,
sleep, restart. Jamie fought Ned, Robert and Cersei fought each other, the
lions and wolves were at each other's throats and Yelena was caught between
two families she loved dearly. Or she would have been, had she not been
blocking out the rest of the world as she tried not to shatter under its crushing
weight. And every single day, she thought of Jon Snow.

Obviously Yelena wasn't blind to things, like how Eddard was the hand
again, and sat on the throne while her father hunted. Or even simply the fact
that her father was hunting. He was angry. But where her anger made her
quicker and stronger, his made him clumsy and stupid. She hoped he didn't
hurt himself. But apparently such hopes and wishes fell on the deaf ears of
the gods, for only two days later a guard arrived at her door, summoning
down to see her father... who was grievously wounded.
 cẦaẮtez sit ~ tate a stanд

SHE RUSHED THROUGH THE CORRIDORS OF THE RED KEEP,

glad to be wearing pants and a tunic instead of a dress. She reached the doors
the same time as Joffrey, and where the two would normally glare, they only
exchanged quick looks of panic before pushing open the doors.

"Father!" Yelena cried, bolting to his side. "Gods, no... what happened??"

He gave her and Joffrey a small smile. The sight of her arm comfortingly
around her little brother's shoulders when the boy needed it most warmed his
heart after years of detestation between them. "Went hunting, lass. Boar got
me good, but..." he grinned at her. "I got it good too."

"What will happen to you?" Joffrey asked shakily.

With only a look, they both understood. "No..." Yelena whispered. "No!" she
rushed forward to clutch her father's hand. "It's not fair!" her eyes stung,
though she fought off the tears.

"There there, little doe." he chuckled. "I never was a good father anyway.
Best thing I ever did for you was give you the Starks."

"Please don't say such things." the princess's voice wobbled. "You gave me
everything. I can shoot, I can fight, I have everything... because of you."

He looked about to respond when the doors opened, and Ned Stark walked in.
Robert sighed. "Go on," he told his children. "You don't want to see this."

Yelena's eyes were full of tears, but she wouldn't disappoint her father in his
last hours by crying before him, so she stood with a nod, and left, gently
tugging Joffrey with her. When the doors closed, they were both silent, but
then Yelena did something beyond unexpected. She reached over to the boy
beside her, pulling him into a tight embrace as she forced her tears away.
When she pulled back, he blinked in confusion, but had no time to ask
anything. By the time he opened his mouth she'd already fled back down the
halls and towards her chambers.

She collapsed onto her bed, making herself steady out her breathing, the furry
body next to hers a small comfort. Her father, who had been nothing but good
to her, who had given her everything, was dying. He was leaving them, and
what then? She took a deep breath. Joffrey. Joffrey would be king. The
thought sent a shudder through her. Perhaps Yelena was the eldest with a
clear right to the throne, but no one would accept her; she was both a woman
and betrothed to the future Warden of the North. Or maybe one of her uncles
could do it...

The princess sat up, shaking her head. She was fantasizing now. Her father's
brothers had no real claim on the throne as long as Joffrey lived. She couldn't
depend on make-believe ideas like this anymore. People were dying and self-
serving sons were being crowned. It was time to face the reality she'd hoped
was so far off. She almost wished she were already married and living in the
North, just to keep out of her brother's cruel reach. Certainly, she'd done her
duty as a sister, being kind to her little brother in their hour of despair, but
that didn't mean she'd forgotten what he was, or how the crown would only
make things worse. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around her wolf's neck,
burying her face in the fur. "Oh, Lishay," she murmured. "What am I
supposed to do..."

She stayed in her rooms through the day, struggling greatly against the urge
to write to Jon yet again, but she knew nothing good would come of it. She'd
get her hopes up only to have them smacked right back down once more, and
there was only so much heartbreak she could take in a day.

Two days later, the princess stormed down the steps, four guards hot on
her heels. Her mother had ordered her under protection of extra guards at
all times from the second her father died. She shoved open the doors of the
Queen-Mother's chambers, hot-headed and furious. "Mother!"

"Yes, my little cub?" Cersei strode calmly in from her side door, undeterred
by her daughter's anger.
"Why are you attacking Lord Stark?!" she demanded.

Her mother sighed. "He's not a Lord anymore. He tried to convince the other
Lords that your brother's claim to the throne is illegitimate." She placed a
gentle hand on Yelena's cheek. "The decision was not mine to make, my
sweet. Your brother is the true King, and Eddard betrayed him. It is a great
crime to betray the crown."

She smacked her mother's hand away, startling the queen. "Don't act like
you're not pleased about this." she hissed, before striding angrily out.

Getting rid of her babysitter guards was easy enough. All she had to do was
order them off. There were times when being royalty was an advantage. As
soon as they were gone she changed from her dress into a tunic, pants and a
nondescript cloak before opening the doors to her balcony. She took a deep
breath before heaving herself over the edge, careful not to look at the steep
drop below her. Lishay lifted her paws onto the railing, wanting to follow.
"No, girl." Yelena told her quietly. "You're too recognisable. I promise, I'll be
right back. Stay."

She climbed carefully down the walls, almost losing her footing twice, but
successfully making it down to the window she sought. a small gap in the
wall, no glass kept her from sliding through into the passage between walls
on the other side. Following the barely noticeable markings carved into
intersections, she quickly found herself looking through a crack and into the
courtyard near where Lord Stark lived with his children. Neither seeing nor
hearing any men patrolling, she shoved her shoulder hard against the cracked
wall, and the old door slowly fell open, scraping loudly as it went. Hurrying
out into the open, she froze at the sight of Lord Stark's men laying dead by
the door. Slamming the door open she ran inside, practically jumping up
whatever stairs were in her path. "Sansa!" She cried out. "Arya! Anyone!" A
cough. following the noise, she found herself in a large open space. A few
Lannister men lay dead on the floor, but there was one who wore no steel.
When the princess rolled him onto his back, he coughed again, startling her
as he sputtered up blood. "Arya's dancing master..." she whispered. "Where
is she?"

He sucked in a ragged breath. "Escaped... they won't... catch her... in the

streets..." one last cough shook his chest before his breathing stopped, and his
body fell limp.

Breathing deeply, Yelena stood, forcing herself to keep her emotions in

check. Arya was gone, out of Cersei's grasp. Joffrey likely had Sansa by now.
She needed to get back before her absence was noted.

Days passed, and Yelena was forbidden from seeing Lord Stark. No one
would even speak to her of him, or his fate. Her uncle Renley had left the
capital with Ser Lorace and the entire force of High Garden, along with
anyone else who would follow the king's brother and his claim to the throne.
It turned out to be quite a few. Her uncles on her mother's side were both
gone as well, Jamie off at Casterly Rock and Tyrion being held by Lady
Catelyn Stark. Joffrey was gone back to acting a right prat and the Queen-
Mother let Joffrey do as he pleased, entirely unbridled. With her little
siblings too young to even grasp what was happening and being so
disconnected from her friends back at Winterfell, Yelena was left feeling
completely and utterly alone, with only the company of her wolf to console
her.

**Jon POV**

It was the first time he'd entered the Lord Commander's chambers, and the
man was reading letters when his eyebrows shot up at whatever was on
the parchment, piquing Jon's curiosity.

"The Baratheon boy..." Mormont muttered. He looked up to see Jon

watching, curious at the mention of news from King's Landing. "King
Robert is dead. His firstborn son, Prince Joffrey is next in line."

Jon sucked in a breath at that. The first thing on his mind was Yelena. She'd
loved her father. Was she alright? How was she taking this? "Might I ask if
there's anything else?" he asked, managing not to outright say of what he
wanted to know.

The commander sighed. "Lord Stark has been charged with treason and taken
into custody for refuting the boy's claim."

Jon tensed. "What?" Why would his father do that? Why risk it when he
knew what the consequences could be? It was true that the Baratheon son was
no king, but what exactly had his father hoped to achieve? He stood, his
breath escaping him.

"I hope you're not thinking of doing something stupid." the commander
warned.

"My sisters are in King's Landing." And someone else too.

**Yelena POV**

Finally, Yelena was summoned by Joffrey and Cersei. When she arrived in
the throne room, Lishay by her side, she knew she was in for it.

"Come, my cub." Cersei called. It dawned on her now that her mother never
called her 'doe' as her father had, refusing to acknowledge her as anything but
Lannister.

"Mother." Yelena responded evenly, stopping before the dais. "You called."

"Yes..." her mother began. "I know you have an affinity for the
Stark children-"

"Traitor." Joffrey spat, making Lishay snarl.

"Now, now, darling," Cersei said soothingly, placing a hand on her son's
shoulder. "Our very own little dove Sansa is to be your wife. A king should
not speak ill of his bride." She shot the direwolf a dirty look before returning
her gaze to Yelena. "I summoned you to ask your advice on how the matter
of her father should be handled with the girl."

"Through me." Yelena replied immediately. She loved her mother with all
her heart, but her trust for the woman was waning by the day. "Come
directly to me for anything about Sansa."

Joffrey shot her a distasteful glare. "You can't possibly mean-"

"Yes." She interrupted the second she realised what he was referring to,
looking him directly in the eye. "I will stand for Sansa Stark. I will be her
whisper, her protector, and advisor. I will take punishment for her, if such is
necessary."

"Yelena-" Cersei warned.

"I swear it by the old gods and the new." and so it was done. The princess
stared evenly back at her mother and brother, daring them to oppose a sacred
vow.

"Very well." her mother's voice was hushed. "From this day until Sansa
Stark's last day in King's Landing, you, Princess Yelena Baratheon, stand for
her."

***

Yelena was reading when a knock sounded at her door. "Who's there?"

"Sansa Stark, my princess."

Yelena jumped to her feet, hurrying to open the door and usher the other girl
inside. She shot the guards posted outside a suspicious look before closing
the door with a sigh. When she turned, she saw Sansa smiling softly as she
trailed her fingers through Lishay's fur as the wolf wagged her tail happily.

"Sansa?" she asked.

The girl stood upright, curtsying. "Princess,"

"No, please..." she reached out to lift the girl from the bowed position, giving
her a kind look. "We may be in my home now, but that doesn't change
anything. You're like a sister, Sansa. There's no need for it."

She nodded reluctantly. "I... I wanted to ask you about something the queen
told me. She said that you... you chose to stand for me?"

Yelena let out a little breath as she nodded. "Yes. do you know what that
means?"

Sansa bit her lip. "Yes, but why would you do that?"
"Because I care about you. I couldn't protect your father, and I can't protect
your sister. I owe it to you and to every other Stark." As soon as she finished
speaking, Yelena felt arms around her. A soft smile crossed her lips as she
hugged the redheaded girl back. "You'll be safe with me."
 cẦaẮtez seẴen ~ tzue Ầeiz

IT WAS ONLY THE VERY NEXT DAY, and Yelena changed into a
simple but beautiful dress, strapping on her dagger and slipping a few small
knives in her boots and sleeves. She pulled her hair back into a beautiful
southern updo before going to fetch Sansa from her rooms. When the door
opened, the Princess - now Lady Stark's protector - offered her arm, which
she gladly took, and the girls made for the throne room together.

When they arrived, Joffrey caught sight of them right away, shooting Sansa a
smile and his sister a glare. Yelena only rolled her eyes as the proceedings
continued. She took interest only when her mother declared Ser Bariston no
longer of service for the King's Guard. The furious man spat vicious words
as he unstrapped his white cloak, letting it fall to the floor before storming
out. At one point swords were drawn, and Sansa clutched Yelena's arm
tighter, but she only squeezed the girl's shoulder reassuringly. Nothing would
come of it, though Ser Bariston had every right to feel offended as he did.

Finally it was all adjourned. "If any man in this hall has other matters to set
before His Grace, let him speak now or go forth and hold his silence."

Yelena tensed when Sansa spoke. "Your Grace,"

Joffrey beckoned her forward with a wave. "Come forward, my lady."

As Sansa stepped forward, so did Yelena. "Lady Sansa of House Stark, and
her sworn protector Princess Yelena of House Baratheon," the man intoned.

"Do you have some business with the king and the council, Sansa?" Cersei
asked, smiling sweetly.

"I do." her voice wobbled, but held resolve. She knelt, making Yelena
frown. "As it please Your Grace, I ask mercy for my father, Lord Eddard
Stark who was Hand of the King."
"Treason is a noxious weed!" snapped the High Maester. "It should be torn
out, root-"

"Let her speak." Joffrey interrupted, clearly annoyed. "I want to hear what
she says." Yelena's heart pounded. She'd vowed to take any punishment from
Sansa, but she wondered how cruel he would be, even if only to get revenge
on his big sister, of whom he was so jealous.

"Thank you, Your Grace." Sansa said, her soft voice carrying through the
domed room.

"Do you deny your father's crime?" Lord Baelish asked.

She shook her head, clearly afraid. "No, my lords. I know he must be
punished. All I ask is mercy. I know my lord father must regret what he did.
He was King Robert's friend and he loved him. You all know he loved him."
she gulped, taking a breath. "He never wanted to be Hand until the king asked
him. They must have lied to him - Lord Renley, o-or Lord Stannis, or
somebody. They must have lied!" The last words were a desperate cry, and
Yelena felt terribly sorry for her. She knew now how it felt to lose a father.

Joffrey gave a small, irritated sigh. "He said I wasn't the king." Yelena bit on
her tongue hard to keep from saying something stupid. "Why did he say
that?"

Sansa seemed lost for words, so this time, stepping forward, Yelena did
speak. She held back every venomous jab she wanted to use against her little
brother and imagined she were speaking to a king she respected. She
imagined Eddard Stark on the throne when she spoke, and her voice came
calm and even. "He was badly injured." she told him. "Maester Pycelle was
giving him milk of the poppy. He wasn't himself, or he would never have
said such a thing." she looked back to see Sansa giving her a grateful look.

"Treason is treason!" Pycelle insisted angrily.

"Anything else?" Joffrey asked, seeming bored.

Yelena stepped back to let Sansa speak again. "If you still have any affection
in your heart for me, please do me this kindness, Your Grace." She sounded
close to tears, and the princess badly wanted to wrap the girl in a hug, to cut
down these awful old mules, to take the throne for herself and order Lord
Stark pardoned, Arya found and brought home, to call off this sweet girl's
betrothal to this awful boy. But they were only dreams.

Joffrey sighed once again, thinking for a moment. "Your sweet words have
moved me." He said finally. "But your father has to confess. He has to
confess and say that I'm the king... or there'll be no mercy for him."

Sansa nodded after a moment. "He will."

As soon as the hall was adjourned, Yelena took Sansa by the arm once more,
hurriedly leading her back to her rooms. "What's wrong?" Sansa asked her.

"I don't think your father will want to confess." she told her honestly. "He's a
strong and stubborn man. He has his honour to think about. I need to go
speak with him."

Sansa frowned, her brows creasing. "But I thought you were forbidden from
seeing him?"

Yelena chuckled. "They can't stop me if they never know I was there at all."
They stopped by the princess's room first to collect Lishay, and when they
got to Sansa's chambers, the wolf was left there with her. "If anyone but me
comes in, you keep Lishay right beside you." Yelena told her. "If they won't
see you with the wolf, they won't see you at all. Tell them it's the princess's
orders, and if they come on the king's orders, you tell them the same. I'll deal
with my brother if I have to." Sansa nodded.

Once again, Yelena couldn't believe where she turned up, but knocked on
Varys's door anyway. He didn't look surprised to see her this time. "Princess
Yelena," he bowed.

"I want you to sneak me into Lord Stark's cell."

He chuckled. "Always right to the point with you, isn't it?"

She crossed her arms, in no mood for his cheerful manner. "Can you do it or
not? Because if not, I'll find a way to do it myself." she smirked. "But I've got
a feeling you want to hear what he says as much as I do."

Clever words are as good as any key, Yelena thought to herself as they snuck
down the dark, stony halls. Finally, they reached the cell, Lord Varys
unlocking it with a key that Yelena was sure he hadn't been holding a
moment ago. She wasn't too worried about it; even if she was in any danger,
her mother would have the head of anyone that tried to harm her daughter -
one of the few upsides, these days, to being Cersei's daughter.

"You've seen better days, my lord." Varys said as he placed the torch in the
wall.

"Lord Stark!"

He blinked, looking thoroughly surprised at the sound of the princess's voice.

"Princess Yelena."

She scoffed. "Please, there's no need for formalities." she sighed, becoming
serious. "Nor any time for them. We must speak."

"Yes, we must." he sat up, his expression urgent, but his eyes glancing at
Varys. Clearly he didn't want the lord to hear whatever it was he was
thinking.

After a minute, Yelena sighed. "Lord Varys, would you excuse us, just for a
moment?"

He nodded. "As you wish, princess."

As soon as he stepped out the cell door, Yelena's eyes returned to Lord Stark.
"Why in the seven hells would you try to deny Joffrey the throne?" she
hissed. "You could have been killed. You still could be!"

"Because Joffrey is not the heir."

She blinked. "What do you mean? Not that I don't hate my brother's being on
the throne, but he is the heir."
Lord Stark shook his head. "Your father never had a single legitimate son. He
has several bastards in the city, but your brother is a bastard too... your
mother's bastard."

Her eyes flew wide. She didn't bother asking how he knew; Lord Stark was
an honest man and would never risk himself this way unless he were certain.
"Then who is his father?"

His expression became sour. "Your half brother is a product of incest

between Cersei and Jamie, as are the other two. Robert only ever had one
legitimate child."

A shocked breath slipped from her lips. "Me." she thought for a moment. It
did make sense. Perhaps it should have disgusted her, but instead it brought
immense relief. She'd always assumed Joffrey was just unhinged, and it
terrified her that people could be such a way without reason, but if he was a
product of incest... she shook her head. "That doesn't matter anymore.
Varys!" She began speaking as the Lord of Whispers re-entered. "Listen to
me. Sansa spoke for you in the throne room today, begged for mercy for you.
It took some convincing, but Joffrey accepted on the terms that you admit
your fault and declare him the true king."

He shook his head. "He's not. You are the heir." he watched her studiously.
"How does it not infuriate you that he's stealing your throne?"

She only laughed, a soft sound filling the hushed air. "My brother always
infuriates me, but I never truly longed for the throne - not the way others do.
I dreaded the day he would sit on it and now that day has come. I'll figure it
out. I always do." she sighed, looking at him firmly. "Your family needs you.
Arya is missing, Sansa is betrothed to a monster and Robb has called the
banners to march on King's Landing." she nodded at his shocked expression.
"Lady Catelyn can't do it all alone. Aren't they more important than pride and
thrones?"

He finally nodded. "They are. Thank you, Yelena. You're a good daughter."

It warmed her heart to hear him call her that, making her want to cry.

Instead,
she jumped forward, hugging him tightly. "And you're a wonderful father."
When she pulled back, she smiled before standing.

He called to her before she could leave. "Yelena!" she turned. "Varys told me
you vowed to stand for Sansa." he paused a moment. "I owe you my life and
more."

She shook her head. "The best part of my life was at Winterfell." she told him
softly. "Think of this as a repayment long overdue." and then she was gone.

***

When Yelena wasn't with Sansa, she left either Lishay or one of her two
personal guards with the girl. She spent every free second poring over family
trees, law books, law scrolls and anything that might tell her something about
her family and Joffrey's rights to the throne without any Baratheon blood.
And she did everything she could to find out what was happening with Robb
and his bannermen. According to Varys, who was now the closest thing she
had to someone she could trust, he'd lost a battle against her grandfather, but
the attack had been a distraction that allowed him to kidnap her uncle Jamie
while the bulk of his forces still moved for King's Landing. They called him
the Young Wolf. The King of the North. She could never say it aloud, but she
was proud of him, and pleased at his victory. Her mother had a bargaining
chip. It seemed right that the Starks did too, especially when her family was
the one in the wrong.

Three days passed before Ned Stark was brought before the city. And Yelena
was terrified. She changed into her gear, hoping the more familiar clothing
might settle her nerves and strapped on her dagger. She opted out of the small
knives today; neither Joffrey nor the queen would dare move against Sansa so
publicly... she hoped. She pulled her hair back into a simple braid and washed
her face. When she looked in the mirror, she felt a little stronger.

She walked along with Sansa's arm looped through hers again. They'd
decided it was the easiest way to work out this arrangement; since Yelena
was a princess and Sansa a lady, it was customary for Yelena to walk in
front, but it didn't seem right to the princess now that she was the girl's
protector.
Instead, the two girls simply walked side-by-side, arm-in-arm, as though
they'd been born sisters.

She stood on the Sept between Sansa and Cersei, watching the crowd below
her. When they brought out Lord Stark, however, she watched him carefully,
hoping he wouldn't do anything stupid. Her eyebrows knitted together as she
saw him call to a man who was certainly no southern soldier - A man of
Castle Black, she realised. She followed the man's gaze to the statue of
Baelor, her own eyes widening at the sight of little Arya.

She felt Sansa try to steady her breathing beside her, and gave her arm a little
reassuring squeeze.

Lord Stark lifted his head as the guards left him. "I am Eddard Stark... Lord
of Winterfell... and Hand of the King." He looked to Sansa, who nodded,
urging him to say it. With much difficulty, he continued. "I come before you
to confess my treason... in sight of gods and men. I betrayed the faith of my
king... and the trust of my friend Robert. I swore to protect and defend his
children. But I cared only to protect one... and before his blood was cold I
plotted to murder his son..." even from where she stood Yelena could see him
clench his jaw. "And take the throne for myself." shouts rose from the crowd
once more, a few things thrown. "Let the High Septon and Lord Baelor the
Blessed bear witness to what I say... Joffrey Baratheon... Is the one true heir
to the Iron Throne, by the grace of all the gods... Lord of the Seven
Kingdoms... and Protector of the Realm. " Yelena's heart pounded in her
chest and she bit her lip so hard she drew blood. It was torture, after all these
years of fantasizing about stealing this right from her brother who did not
deserve it, to have a true chance arise and then let it slip away. But it was
better this way. She would never sacrifice the Starks for a childish dream.
She would never sacrifice the Starks for anything. They were her family as
much as the one she was born to. The crowd roared again.

High Maester Pycelle stepped forward. "As... as we sin, so do we suffer. This

man has confessed his crimes in sight of gods and men. The gods are just, but
beloved Baelor taught us... they can also be merciful." he turned to face
Joffrey while the princess tried to keep her breathing even. "What is to be
done with this traitor, Your Grace?"

He raised his hand to silence the jeering crowd. "My mother wishes me to let
Lord Eddard join the night's watch. Stripped of all titles and powers, he
would serve the realm in permanent exile. And my Lady Sansa..." he looked
to her then. "Has begged mercy for her father." his expression turned sour
when he looked back to the waiting people. "But they have the soft hearts of
women!" Yelena frowned. What? "So long as I am your king... treason shall
never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn!" His eyes narrowed. "Bring me his head."
And the crowd went wild again.

"NO!" Yelena lunged forwards, but four guards had managed to come around
behind her without notice, and they held her back now from her brother and
the man who might as well be her father. "JOFFREY STOP THIS!" Cersei,
looking troubled, begged him to reconsider while Sansa wailed horribly.
"PLEASE NO!" The executioner stepped up to the stage, reaching for his
sword. Tears spilled over as Yelena screamed and wailed, trying to break free
while Sansa's screams shattered her heart. "JOFFREY!!" he turned to her,
that awful, smug look on his face, and she knew then that this was it. The
moment she'd been dreading. HE'S AN EVIL LITTLE CUNT AND I'LL
NEVER STOP
REMINDING HIM OF IT UNTIL HE'S DEAD! This was Joffrey's revenge.
This was how he'd hurt her back. With an enraged roar, she fought harder,
another set of hands, which she'd later learn belonged to the Hound, added to
the ones holding her back. And then it was over.
 cẦaẮtez eigẦt ~ call of tẦe œolf

IN THE MOMENTS AFTER EDDARD STARK'S HEAD WAS

REMOVED FROM HIS SHOULDERS, Yelena's mind was crystal clear.
Too clear for her liking. Her ears were ringing and her focus was sharp. She
caught sight of the Night's Watch man smuggling Arya out. Relief flooded
her chest in that moment of pure, lovely forgetting, and then the world came
crashing back. Both her fathers were dead. Her brother was a monster, and
her mother let the monster live. Sansa had fainted on the stage, but she
couldn't even think about that. As soon as the guards released their hold on
her, she collapsed to the ground, horrible loud sobs being dragged out of her
chest as if they were on hooks. She could hardly breathe, and she wasn't
entirely certain she wouldn't pass out either. Sansa. She thought. I have to
protect Sansa. She'd failed in every other way possible. Lost Jon, hurt Robb,
failed Arya, led Ned die, and let her brother live. She couldn't think about
that or she would curl up and die right there. So she crawled to Sansa,
wrapping an arm protectively over the younger girl's back. She could not
break this promise.

***

Hours later, when Sansa was in her own bed, guarded by Lishay, Yelena sat
before her own hearth, her eyes puffy and bloodshot from crying, her throat
sore from screaming, and a dull pain in her chest that wouldn't seem to leave
her. Perhaps it was a permanent reminder of her failure. It took her hours to
rise from her chair as she'd originally intended and stumble to her desk,
pulling out parchment, ink and quill. She willed her hands to stop shaking as
she dipped the end of the quill into the black ink.

➚c ᷻¥eḧccPḔ

She stopped short. What on earth could she possibly write to him? Her
brother had just chopped off the head of Robb's father while Yelena stood
uselessly on the sidelines. She took a steadying breath. She had to do this. It
wasn't about her. It was about Robb and Catelyn and Sansa and maybe Arya
too. He didn't want her condolences. He wanted to know that his sisters
were okay.

➚Ie¥e caB mcCIḗmg ᷽ ccmPd dc. ᷽ Icge ḧcm Imcc CIaC.

$mC ᷽ cam IePg ḆedccPḔ. JmPḧ daḧB agc ᷽ Bcc¥e PeḔc¥e CIe
gcdB amd ᷺e¥¥eC, CIe ḔaPBe Scc¥d, CIaC ᷽ ccmPd BCamd Ḕc¥
Ie¥. fcm Imcc cIaC CIaC emCaḗPB. LḗCCPeccPḔ IaB Peem
BmmggPed cmC cḔ CIe ➀ḗCḧ cḔ CIe Scc¥d Pḧ a
➀cPdcḗmd. ᷽ CIḗmI BIe ḗB BaḔe Ḕc¥ mcc, aB LḗcmebB cḗPP
PḗIePḧ ccmCḗmme Cc BCcm¥ cmPḧ CIe cḗCḧ. ᷺e¥¥eC mmBC Pe
dḗBa¥med. Nc cme ḗB BaḔe mmCḗP Ie IcPdB CIe Scc¥d mc
Pcmge¥. ᷽ Icge ḧcm amd Ladḧ Jmḧx cam Ḕc¥gḗce me. ᷽Ḕ mcC, ᷽
Icge Cc ¥edeem mḧBePḔ ḗm g¥cCecCḗmg ḆedccPḔ. ᷽Ḕ
᷽ dḗe, ᷽ camCed ḧcm Cc Imcc CIaC ᷽ C¥ḗed. ᷺e¥¥eC ᷽S ḔaPBe, CIe
g¥cdmcC cḔ Lḗcm amd LḗcmebB. ᷻¥eaCccPḔ C¥ḗed Cc g¥cce ḗC.
$mC ᷽ cḗPP g¥ecaḗP. Dc mcC c¥ḗCe PacI Cc me excegC ḗm
ccde. ᷽ cam mc Pcmge¥ C¥mBC CIcBe a¥cmmd me amd CIe
damge¥ cḗPP cmPḧ g¥cc cḗCI ece¥ḧ excIamge.

Lcce, Da¥Pḗmg Dce

She tied the letter quickly to the leg of a Raven before sending it off. She
steadied herself against the window ledge, squeezing her eyes shut. Her
world was crumbling around her and people she loved were dying at every
turn. Crying wasn't going to save them. If she wanted to survive this and keep
Sansa safe, she would have to be stronger than this. When she opened her
eyes again. She hardened her heart, her stare cool and emotionless. It was as
her Uncle Tyrion said; adapt.

**Robb POV**

He was sitting through a meeting in his tent, Imagining all the things he could
do to the Baratheon boy when his mother came in, a Raven on her arm. He
looked up. "Mother," his eyes travelled down to the bird. "It brings news?"
She shook her head. "No, it's signed personally, but the name isn't a real one.
It's a trick or a code."

His eyebrows knitted in confusion. "What name?"

"Darling Doe."

His eyes widened at that. Why would she write to him? "That's..." he took a
breath, well aware of the eyes on him. "That's Yelena."

"The princess?" one of his bannermen scoffed. "She's a Lannister."

"Baratheon." corrected another.

"Oh, what difference does it make?" the first snapped. "She's one of them.
She can't be trusted."

"Enough." they quieted down at Robb's command. "I've known her since we
were barely in our saddles. If I can't trust her, I don't know who I can." he
unrolled the letter, his lips twitching with the faintest ghost of a smile at their
old childhood code they shared between her, himself and Jon. But she must
not have felt safe or trusted if she was using it now.

"Well?" his mother asked hopefully.

He sighed, before beginning to read aloud, translating what parts they

wouldn't understand. "To Robb Stark, There was nothing I could do. I hope
you know that." his voice caught, but he continued on. He knew she'd tried.
He'd heard the rumors of how many men it had taken to keep her from
slitting her brother's throat. "But I can help Sansa. Only days ago I swore
before the gods and my brother, the false king, that I would stand for her.
You know what that entails. Arya has been smuggled out of King's Landing
by a man of the Night's Watch. I think she is safe for now, as Cersei will
likely continue to scour only the city. Joffrey must be dethroned. No one is
safe until he holds the Crown no longer. I hope you and Lady Catelyn can
forgive me. If not, I hope to redeem myself in protecting Sansa. If I die, I
wanted you to know that I tried." He sucked in a small breath. "Joffrey IS
false, the product of Jamie Lannister and Cersei Lannister. Your father tried
to prove it. But I
will prevail. Do not write back to me except in code. I can no longer trust
those around me and the danger will only grow with every exchange. Love,
Yelena."

There was silence after that, until Catelyn broke it. "She stands for Sansa."
her voice was hushed, afraid even. "Such a brave girl."

"Hmph." One of the lords grumbled. "I don't believe a word of it. She's one of
them. Besides, if she's afraid of being caught, why send so many details?"

Robb shot him a small glare. "The princess used a code she and I have shared
since childhood. I only translated it for all of you. If she uses it again now, it's
because she fears for her safety or my sister's if she's discovered. Which
means what she speaks of not trusting those around her is true."

**Yelena POV**

It had not taken Joffrey long after killing Lord Stark to call off Yelena's
betrothal to Robb, snuffing out her last small hope of getting away from here.
Now she sat beside him in the court with her jaw clenched tight as a little
musician man sung a horribly disgraceful song of King Robert's death. Her
gaze flickered to Sansa, who had Yelena's two guards with her currently.

When it was finished, Joffrey looked all to pleased with himself, applauding
slowly as the others in the room followed suit reluctantly. He smirked. "Very
amusing. Isn't it a funny song?" the question didn't seem to be directed at
anyone in particular, but his cruel eyes lingered on his sister the longest. She
kept her expression blank, not willing to give him the satisfaction of her
anger. "Thank you for your rendition." he told the man. "I imagine it was
even better received at that tavern."

"I'm so sorry, Your Grace." he stumbled to his feet, clearly at least a little
afraid. "I'll never sing it again, I swear."

"Tell me, which do you favour-" the king began. "Your fingers or your
tongue?"

Yelena's chest tightened and the little man paled. "Your Grace?"
"Fingers," he emphasized it this time, as if the man hadn't heard him. "Or
your tongue. If you got to keep one, which would it be?" the man stuttered,
very afraid now. "Or I could just cut your throat." Joffrey mused, his voice
dark.

"E-every man needs hands, Your Grace..."

"Good." the boy held a small smile on his face. "Tongue it is." the man began
to stutter a protest, but Joffrey had already beckoned his guards. "Ser Ilyn,
who better than you to carry out the sentence." the same man who murdered
Ned Stark. But Yelena remained unflinching. She felt the cool metal of her
dagger hidden in her sleeve, and the light press of the little knives in her
boots, but the chill was nothing compared to the urge she felt to use them.
Joffrey had forbid her from carrying a sword again, and so hers was locked
away in a chest in her room, but that didn't mean she was unarmed. She was
never unarmed anymore.

"I beg you! Please, no." Ilyn heated his dagger and pincers in one of the
braziers.

"Your Grace, please! I beg you! I'll never sing again!"

"I'm done for the day." Joffrey rose, handing the crown to the Hound,
ignoring the cries and pleas of the man until they were faded to only
whimpers. "I'll leave the rest of the matters to you, mother."

Yelena rose quickly when she saw that her brother was bringing Sansa with
him. She fell into step in front of the other guards but behind the pair,
ignoring Joffrey's thinking aloud about soon having a male heir.

She stopped dead in her tracks, grabbing Sansa's arm to make her stop as well
when she realised where the king was going.

He turned, annoyed. "Are you defying me, dear sister?"

"I'm protecting the girl I swore to protect." she growled, eyes alight with
fury. "You will not torture her like this. Not while I stand for her." she turned
to her guards. She didn't trust them, but they were better than no protection at
all. "Escort Lady Sansa to her chambers and wait for my arrival." She looked
kindly at the girl. "Go. We'll speak as soon as I come back." Sansa heard the
warning in Yelena's voice, and quickly did as she was bid.

Joffrey glared at her. "You steal my amusement."

"I save her from suffering." the princess corrected, her voice cold.

He grinned. "As you wish. Come along then. Suffer for her as you vowed to
do."

Yelena was surprised she didn't throw up on her way back to Sansa's room.
Heads on spikes were bad enough, but Lord Stark had been like a father to
her... she shoved the memory away quickly striding between her guards to
knock on the door.

"Come in." Inside, Sansa sat on her bed, doing some embroidery to calm her
nerves. Her eyes became curious, but also wary when she saw the princess.
"Where did he take you?"

Yelena bit her lip. "You don't want to know." Yelena said softly. "Just...
please don't ever venture down there. You shouldn't have to see such things."

Sansa sucked in a breath. "My father..." her voice wobbled, and she had to
take a steadying breath when Yelena nodded.

"It's alright. I promised I'd protect you and I will. No matter what."

**Jon POV**

Jon was sorting through papers when Sam burst in, looking flustered from
running, and quite a bit worried.

His eyebrows went up. "All right Sam?"

Sam shook his head. "News from..." he hesitated. "From King's Landing."

Jon stood quickly. "What is it?" his heart pounded as he took in the sad look
on his friend's face. "What?"
"Jon... it's nothing good..."

"Tell me."

Sam sighed deeply. "It's... your father. King Joffrey had him... had him
executed."

Horror rushed through Jon's body. Was he going to lose everyone? His voice
was hushed and hoarse when he asked, "And did no one try to stop him?"

He shuffled a bit. "Well there was nothing specified in this letter..."

"But?"

Sam bit his lip, his expression sad, but also a little impressed. "They say it
took four men plus the Hound just to hold back the Princess Yelena when her
brother ordered it done. They say her howls could summon direwolves and
wake the dead to take her revenge for her. They've begun calling her 'the Call
of the Wolf'."

Jon shuddered as he imagined it. His father kneeling, waiting for the sword to
strike, his sisters' horrified faces, Joffrey's nasty grin... and if he thought just a
little too hard, he could almost hear the screams that started the people
talking.
 cẦaẮtez nine ~ Ầanд of tẦe ting

**Yelena POV**

YELENA SAT IN THE KING'S BOX BY SANSA'S SIDE AS THE

HOUND LASHED OUT, fighting another soldier. King Joffrey was a cruel
boy, with a cruel sense of amusement, especially on his nameday. She
watched the soldier plummet to the ground below where they fought, the
crack of his neck reaching her ears instantly. She winced, but gave no other
indication of discomfort. She spoke very rarely to her family since the death
of Lord Stark, and when she did, her voice was neutral or sharp. She felt a
pinch in her heart each time that hurt look crossed her mother's face, but the
memory of how she'd done nothing to stop the king's cruelty had her locking
the feeling away, just like the lion pendant she once wore. It was the wolf that
hung openly around her throat now, much to Cersei's disapproval.

"Well struck." Joffrey muttered. "Well struck, dog!" he grinned back at

Sansa. "Did you like that?"

Yelena gave her a reassuring nod, and the girl took a breath before
responding, "It was well struck, Your Grace."

"I already said it was well struck." his voice took on a dangerous tone.

"Yes, Your Grace." she murmured.

Joffrey shot her a sour glare before returning his gaze to the bloodstained
ground. The sight took Yelena's mind back to when she'd sentenced a
forsaker of the Night's Watch to death. At the time it had seemed so awful,
but how she longed for it's simplicity now. "Who's next?" her brother called.

"Lorther Brune," the announcer proclaimed. "Freerider in the service of

Lord Baelish. Ser Dontos, of the Red House Hollard." The first man made
his way to the battlestage. "Ser Dontos of the Red House Hollard!" the
announcer
shouted impatiently.

"Here I am!" the knight huffed as he clanked his way over hurriedly. "Sorry
my lord." he told the king. Yelena sucked in a breath. It was a mistake with
grave consequences, as more than one person had seen, to address Joffrey as
'my lord' instead of 'Your Grace'.

"Are you drunk?" he demanded.

"No, uh-no-no, Your Grace." he seemed to catch himself this time. "I had
two cups of wine."

"Two cups?" Joffrey snickered. "That's not much at all." he gestured to the
wine on the table beside him. "Please, have another cup." Yelena held her
breath. It was something she'd grown quite accustomed to, so much that at
times she wouldn't breathe for several minutes before she remembered to do
so again.

"Are you sure, Your Grace?"

"Yes. to celebrate my nameday.'' His voice was thick with amusement and
false assurance. "Have two, have as much as you like." Yelena still did not
dare release her breath.

"I-I would be honoured, Your Grace." the knight nodded.

Joffrey turned to one of his King's Guard. "Ser Meryn, help Ser Dontos
celebrate my nameday." he grinned. "See that he drinks his fill." the poor
man was clearly still oblivious as to what was about to happen. As often
happened these days, a feeling of helplessness overcame the princess. But
she could not save everyone. She had to put Sansa first, which would be
difficult if her brother had her whipped for defiance.

The poor man was dragged off and put to his knees. One guard held a horn to
his mouth and Ser Mery began dumping a barrel of wine in. The end result
would likely be that the man drowned.

"You can't!" Sansa protested, her voice horrified.

Joffrey narrowed his eyes at her. "What did you say?" she paled as she
realised what she'd done. "Did you say I can't?" Yelena's heart beat faster,
though she knew Joffrey was bound by law not to harm her as long as the
princess stood for her.

But she was clever. "I-I only meant that it would be bad luck to kill a man on
your nameday."

He huffed. "What kind of stupid peasant's superstition..." he turned away.

"The girl is right." The Hound told him. "What a man sows on his nameday,
he reaps all year."

Joffrey sighed, obviously irritated that his own dog was correcting him.
"Take him away." he ordered the guards who held the poor knight. Yelena's
chest began to ache, and she very slowly let out the breath she'd been
holding. "I'll have him killed tomorrow, the fool." as they dropped him, he
choked all the wine back up.

"He is a fool," Sansa said. "You're so clever to see it. He'll make a much
better fool than a knight." Yelena's mouth twitched at how smart the girl was
becoming. "He doesn't deserve the mercy of a quick death."

The king seemed to ponder that a moment. "Did you hear my lady, Ser
Dontos?" he called. "From this day, you'll be my new fool!" the princess
caught Sansa's eye, giving her a tiny wink, which seemed to settle her nerves.

"Thank you, Your Grace." Dontos huffed. "And you, my lady, thank you."

"Beloved Nephew!" a voice called out. Yelena's heart pounded in her chest.
She was certain she'd cry from relief. Was she perhaps dreaming? She was
not. She watched with wide eyes as her Uncle Tyrion strode in, two guards
and a sellsword at his back. "We looked for you on the battlefield," he smiled
as he stepped onto the dais, grabbing a goblet of wine off the table. "But you
were nowhere to be found."

Joffrey looked slightly troubled at that. "I've been here, ruling the kingdoms."
"What a fine job you've done." Tyrion smiled. His eyes met Yelena's and he
gave her a tiny reassuring nod. He smiled as he turned to Myrcella. "Look at
you," he kissed her cheek. "More beautiful than ever. And you!" he looked
proudly at Tommen. "You're going to be bigger than the Hound. But much
better looking." both children grinned, the princess feeling more and more
grateful for her uncle's arrival with every passing second. He raised his
eyebrows at his sellsword as he pointed to the Hound. "This one doesn't like
me."

The man made a face. "Can't imagine why."

"We heard you were dead." Joffrey said, sounding disappointed.

"We're very glad you're not dead." Yelena clarified firmly, earning a glare.

Tyrion sipped his wine. "Me too, dear. Death is so boring, especially now,
with so much excitement in the world."

He inclined his head to Sansa, his eyes regretful. "My lady, I'm sorry for your
loss."

"Her loss?" Joffrey snapped. "Her father was a confessed traitor!"

"But still her father." the dwarf told him. "Surely, having so recently lost your
own beloved father you can sympathise."

Joffrey glared at Sansa, awaiting her response. "My father was a traitor." she
murmured.

Yelena interrupted before she could go on. "We are very grateful for your
condolences, uncle, for I understand the grief better than many present."
everyone knew she'd been like family to the Starks.

Joffrey's glare was venomous. "First that bloody wolf pendant, and now this?
Do you plan on joining Robb's army too?"

She kept her gaze even and her voice cool as she spoke. "I must have
misheard you. You wouldn't accuse your sister, who loyally defends your
future bride, of treason for being nostalgic for the simpler times before war
broke out and killed thousands, including your own men, would you, Your
Grace?"

Tyrion gave her an impressed look as Joffrey shifted uncomfortably in his

seat. She'd phrased it so perfectly without ever suggesting that he would say
such a thing, that he couldn't argue without telling everyone that he didn't
care about the lives of those serving him, or the life of his future wife or the
honour of his dearest big sister, all things that could start a revolt, if his
cruelty hadn't already.

"No, of course not." he said finally, turning away.

"Well," Tyrion told him. "Enjoy your nameday, Your Grace." he walked past
them down behind the dais. "I wish I could stay and celebrate, but there is
work to be done."

"What work?" Joffrey demanded, turning to look at his uncle indignantly. He

stood as Tyrion continued walking. "Why are you here?" Joffrey was
ignored as men who all appeared to be Tyrion's all followed him into the
castle.
Yelena felt a rising hope as the gears began to turn. An idea was beginning to
form of what exactly her uncle was doing here. She only hoped to the gods
that she was right.

***

As soon as she was free of that awful tournament, Yelena escaped to her
rooms, stripping off her dress before collapsing onto her bed. The room felt
so lonely, nowadays. Ever since Ned Stark's execution, Joffrey ordered that
Lishay be kept in a pen outside. "The castle of the lion is no place for a
wolf." he'd sneered. "I've half a mind to send you out there as well." No,
Joffrey could never harm her so long as their mother lived, but just because
he couldn't hit her didn't mean he couldn't otherwise torture her, and
separating her from the last comfort she had here seemed to please him.

The thought crossed her mind that Joffrey could order her dead this instant.
The guards would burst in the door and find her entirely unprepared. One
thrust of spear or sword and that would be that. So she dragged herself from
her bed, slipping into her gear and sitting at her desk. She studied the
dragonglass dagger laying flat across it. Her father had it made for her, but
she'd never really wondered before now... why dragonglass?

She was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Princess? Might I come in?"

Yelena relaxed at the sound of her uncle's voice. "Yes!" she called back.

The door opened as she stood, and he offered a small smile. "Come sit. We
need to talk." She followed him to the end of her bed where they sat, and
waited for him to begin.

He sighed, before speaking. "You stand for Lady Sansa now."

She nodded. "Yes. I couldn't think of any other way to keep her safe."

A reluctant smile crossed his face. "It was very brave and honourable of you,
but I hope you realise the danger you've put yourself in. You cannot trust
your mother, though she loves you very dearly."

The princess chuckled humorlessly. "I know. I knew the day Lord Stark
died. The day she did nothing in the face of Joffrey's cruelty." her voice
wobbled as she spoke.

Tyrion looked regretful. "I'm so sorry you've had to do this alone. But I'm
here to help now." watching carefully to make sure she wouldn't stab him for
it, he pulled his niece into a hug. All the emotions she'd buried began to
bubble to the surface, and tears she hadn't realised she was holding back
spilled down her cheeks as she shook with silent sobs, Tyrion rubbing her
back gently. It was nice to have a shoulder to cry on.

***

Yelena unlatched the door to the pen, sliding it gently open. Lishay jumped
up excitedly at the sound, loping over to snuggle into her side. The princess
smiled as she sunk to her knees, wrapping her arms around the wolf's neck.
"Her girl." she murmured into the fur. "I think things might finally be
looking up a bit." she smiled. "Uncle Tyrion's here to help us."

She soon realised that things were not looking as far up as she'd hoped.
Joffrey was sending the King's Guard around the city, slaughtering young
men, children, babies, anyone who had even a rumor whispering about them
that they could be one of King Robert's bastards. The bastard, she realised,
was slowly strengthening his hold on the Iron Throne.
 cẦaẮtez ten ~ tẦzeats anд
eдucation

INSIDE THE WALLS OF THE RED KEEP, Yelena's will was slowly
crumbling. On this particular evening, she sat through a torturous dinner with
Sansa, Cersei, Myrcella and Tommen.

It was excruciatingly quiet until Myrcella broke the quiet, with a subject
that made everyone want for the silent discomfort again. "When will Joffrey
and Sansa be married?" across the table from Yelena, the poor girl froze.

"Soon, darling," Cersei told her daughter. "When the war is over."

Yelena locked eyes with Sansa, taking a deep breath as she held eye
contact, urging Sansa to breathe as well. Thankfully, she did.

"Mother says I'll have a new gown for the ceremony." Myrcella said brightly.
"And another for the feast. But yours will be ivory, since you're the bride."
Yelena bit her lip as her eyes squeezed shut, wishing her sister would be
quiet.

The queen looked to Sansa expectantly. "The princess just spoke to you."

"Pardon, Your Grace." Sansa's voice shook. "I'm sure your dress will be
beautiful Myrcella. I count the days until the fighting is done and I can pledge
myself to the king in sight of the gods."

"There's nothing to pardon, Sansa." Yelena told her gently, ignoring the
glare her mother shot her. "It's a rather uncomfortable subject."

Cersei narrowed her eyes. "And why would it be an uncomfortable subject,

my cub?"
Yelena smiled innocently, a touch of sarcasm in her voice when she spoke
again. "I only meant that times of war are unpredictable. And since our king
is so very brave, I'm sure we'll see him fighting alongside his men soon." the
corner of her lips twitched as her imagination ran wild. "The gods only know
what kind of terrible fate could befall him out there..."

"That's enough, Yelena." Cersei snapped.

"Forgive me, mother," the princess said calmly, another small smile gracing
her lips. "I only meant to speak the truth."

"Is Joffrey going to kill Sansa's brother?" Tommen asked. The girl looked
close to tears now, making Yelena clench her jaw.

"He might." her mother said softly.

"No more speaking of this." Yelena said firmly. "We'll not discuss such
things before Sansa so soon after losing her father."

Cersei only shrugged. "Even if he does, Sansa will do her duty. Won't you,
little dove?"

Yelena stood suddenly, seething. Somehow, she managed to keep her voice
even. "Come Sansa. We'll be excusing ourselves now."

"No. You won't." her mother said firmly as the princess took Sansa's arm.

She raised her eyebrows. "You're not the queen anymore, mother." her voice
was soft. "You no longer outrank me. You certainly do not command me."

As soon as they were out of sight of the others, Sansa let out a long breath of
relief. "Thank you." she murmured.

Yelena shook her head. "There's no need to thank me. What my mother is
doing to you is awful. Anyone should do the same."

"But that doesn't mean anyone would. Thank you."

She smiled softly. "You're welcome."

***

It was only a week later that Yelena smashed open the doors of the throne
room, beyond livid and ready to tear off the king's head. "JOFFREY
LANNISTER!" she roared, red clouding her vision. Her sword hung at her
side today. The second Varys had told her, she knew she might be walking
into a bladed dance. Tyrion was on her heel.

The crowd parted with a gasp at the disrespect, and in anticipation of what
might follow. Ser Meryn did not move from where he stood over where
Sansa knelt in tears, her dress torn. "Dearest sister." He spat. "How dare you
address your king so?"

She stormed to Sansa's side, brandishing her blade at Meryn when he tried to
stop her. "Try me." she hissed. "I've wanted you dead for months now." he
backed off, to the princess's slight disappointment. Her murderous gaze
turned back to her brother. "Kings do not publicly humiliate and beat their
betrothed." she snapped. "Nor do they break vows. You were not to have any
harm done to Lady Sansa for as long as she remained in King's Landing, yet
you dare take advantage of the moments I cannot be by her side?"

"What kind of knight beats a helpless girl?" Tyrion glared at Meryn as

Yelena wrapped Sansa in her cloak, holding her gently around the shoulders.

"The kind who serves his king, Imp!" the knight glared back.

"Careful now," smirked Tyrion's sellsword, who Yelena had come to know as
Bronn. "Wouldn't want to get blood all over your pretty white cloak."

Tyrion climbed the steps to the dais, furious. "She is to be your queen." he
scolded Joffrey. "Have you no regard for her honour?"

"I'm punishing her!"

"For what crimes?!" he demanded. "She did not fight her brother's battles,
you half-wit."

"You can't talk to me like that!" Joffrey glared. "The king can do as he likes!"
"The Mad King did as he liked." Tyrion said evenly. "Has your uncle Jamie
ever told you what happened to him?"

"No one threatens His Grace in the presence of the King's Guard!" Meryn
stepped towards him, hand on sword. Yelena's hand moved to her sword as
well, catching Bronn's eye as he did the same. She was confident the two of
them could beat the guard if it came to that.

The Hand only gave Meryn a bored look. "I'm not threatening the king, ser, I
am educating my nephew. Bronn, the next time Ser Meryn speaks, kill him."
Yelena's mouth twitched at the look on the man's face. "That was a threat.
See the difference?" he turned, making his way slowly down the steps to
where Sansa and the princess sat. He extended a hand to the red-haired girl,
who hesitantly took it, both girls rising to their feet. Joffrey stood suddenly,
clearly enraged, but uncertain of anything he could do to stop them. "I
apologise for my nephew's behavior." Tyrion said quietly. "Tell me the truth;
do you want an end to this engagement?"

"I am loyal to King Joffrey," she told him. "My one true love." Yelena only
sighed.

Her uncle smiled sad and sympathetically as Yelena led her away towards
her own chambers. "Lady Stark," he muttered. "You may survive us yet."

Days, weeks, months. Yelena began losing count of how long she had been
putting up with her brother on the throne, doing as he pleased, their mother
letting him do as he pleased. She managed to keep him away from Sansa, and
though she kept her dagger in her sleeve day and night, she didn't dare carry
her sword on her again. She'd had Sansa moved so they now shared a room.
Joffrey clearly lost no sleep over breaking the laws of the stand, so it was
the best way to protect the girl. Sometimes they'd venture down to Lishay's
pen, taking comfort in the solid warmth of the wolf.

Sometimes it was court arrangements, sometimes it was a day of letting the

peasants entertain the nobles, sometimes threats, sometimes fingers and
tongues removed. Through it all, every day it went on, Yelena sat beside her
brother and keeping her eyes on Lady Stark. Very rarely she would exchange
short, coded messages with Robb. The King of the North, it would seem, was
coming to end Joffrey's terrible reign. The thought made her smile a bit.

One singular, very memorable day, Joffrey was bored. "Ser Meryn!" he
called. "I feel like killing a direwolf today. Bring me my crossbow and my
sister's beast."

Yelena froze. "What?" she whipped her head around to stare at her brother as
the knight left the room. "Joffrey, no." he only smiled. "Joffrey please, you
can't do this!"

"How many times must I tell you I can do as I please?" he demanded, rising.

"She's never hurt anyone!" the princess protested desperately. "Please, she's a
good girl!" but soon enough, Meryn returned with Lishay on a chain and
Joffrey's beloved crossbow. She rushed forward, shoving the knight away
from her wolf and sinking to her knees to wrap her arms around her furry
friend. She glared back at the king. "I won't let you take her from me! Not
after everything else!" he took aim, ignoring her entirely. "NO!'' Feeling her
eyes begin to fill with tears, she put herself between Joffrey and Lishay,
hugging the wolf tightly.

The doors burst open. "What is the meaning of this??" Yelena's head shot up
to see her uncle walk in with Bronn right behind him. He stormed up to his
nephew. "Are you mad, boy?! What in the seven hells could possibly urge
you to point that damned thing at your sister?"

"It's a direwolf!" Joffrey snapped. "It doesn't belong here! It's a danger to us
all."

"Only to a fool." Tyrion descended the steps, stopping beside Yelena and her
wolf. "Come along my dear. We'll bring Lishay back to her pen."

She stood quickly, tangling her fingers in the wolf's fur to lead her along,
despite her brother's protests behind her. When they reached the pen, she
stopped short. "It's not safe for her here." she said quietly. "Joffrey wants to
hurt me. As long as Lishay is here she's in danger."

Tyrion's eyebrows drew together. "Then what do you suggest we do?"

Yelena's eyes filled once again when she realised there was only one answer
that would truly keep Lishay away from harm. "Could-" her voice hitched.
"Could you take her north?" she managed. "It's where she belongs... I can't
keep her safe here but no one in the North would dare harm a direwolf."

He seemed to consider that a moment. "Yes. Are you certain that's what you
want?" she bit her lip as she nodded, trying not to cry. He gave her a sad
glance. "Very well. Leave her here. I'll have her out of the city by morning.
I'll take her as far North as I can."

The princess sank to her knees, stroking the black velvety fur behind the
wolf's ears before throwing herself forward to hug the wolf again. "I'll miss
you girl," she said, voice shaking with the threat of tears. "Stay safe, okay?
Maybe we'll see each other again one day." after locking the pen once more,
she ran straight to her room, tears falling freely. Through all her losses, she'd
always had Lishay. Now she too was gone. The princess didn't leave her
chambers for four days. A week later Joffrey gave the order again. The way
his face filled with red fury as though it might explode when he discovered
the wolf was gone gave Yelena a bit of satisfaction. He could never hurt her
now.
 cẦaẮtez eleẴen ~ 6actẦanдeд

ONCE AGAIN SHE FELL INTO THE PATTERN SHE'D GROWN

USED TO. Sleep, eat, train as much as she could in her chambers and out of
sight of her brother, deal with her brother being a twat all day, protect Sansa
from her twat of a brother all day, eat, train, bathe, sleep, and reset. Over, and
over, and over. Every single day she struggled and fought with the urge to
write to Jon. she hadn't seen him in so long, missed him so dearly that there
was a physical pain in her chest, like he'd taken a piece of her with him when
he left. Sometimes the urge would grow too fierce to fight, and she would
write him letters that she found herself feeding to her hearth instead of tying
to a Raven's leg.

On the day Myrcella was sent off to Dorne, she hugged her weeping sister
tightly, kissed her forehead, and assured her she would write before she
climbed into the boat that would take her to a ship that would take her to
Dorne.

It was when they began their walk back through the streets however, when
things got wild. A few people jeered and begged. She knew people were
against the king. But she couldn't have prepared for what came next; the
shouting began to intensify, and suddenly, something was thrown, hitting
Joffrey in the face. It was shit. That's when all hell broke loose. The people in
the streets surged forward in the sudden riot, barely held back by the guards
as Joffrey screamed for their heads.

"SANSA!" Yelena slid her dagger from her sleeve and shoved her way
through the crowd until she could grab the girl's arm. "Hold onto me and do
not let go!" she instructed. Sansa nodded and they continued pushing their
way through the chaos. She noticed Tommen's Septa and a couple guards
escorting him away. Good. Yelena thought. He's safe. Unfortunately she
couldn't say the same for them. The guards were more interested in protecting
the king and Queen-Regent, which meant Sansa and Yelena were out in the
fray, with only the princess's dagger for protection. And people were dying.

Yelena stabbed two men before just over half a dozen cornered the girls.
"Come on!" she grabbed Sansa's arm and ran, taking them down a side hall in
the walls, but the men were close behind. They hit a dead end. The princess
whirled, taking down two of the men quickly, but that still left six. Three
came after her and Three after Sansa, but there was no element of surprise to
be had this time. Yelena fought hard as Sansa shrieked in fear. She would not
let this happen. She wouldn't fail yet another Stark. But it was beginning to
look hopeless. She cried out in pain as a knife suddenly pierced her arm,
leaving a cut that wasn't deep, but not shallow either. In her shock she was
knocked down, dragged across the ground as a hand tore at her skirt. She
screamed in defiance and fear.

Suddenly, a sword stuck out of one of the men from behind. When he fell,
Yelena saw the Hound. Then she watched the other men fall just as quickly.
As soon as the shock passed, she scrambled to her feet, running to Sansa.
"Are you alright?" she was clearly shaken, but nodded.

Yelena looked to the Hound, who nodded. "Here." he tossed her a sword,
which she gratefully took. "Now come on!" this time, she plowed through the
crowd like butter, completely untouchable in her element. Sansa held onto the
princess for dear life until they finally reached the keep, the doors closing
behind them with a bang. She sheathed her sword then, taking in her
surroundings.

Tyrion ran up to her immediately, pulling her down into a hug. "Thank the
gods! Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, huffing a bit. "We're alright, thanks to Clegane. I really
did miss having a sword in my hand."

Her uncle chuckled, very clearly relieved. "I'm sure you did."

"Yelena!" She was quickly engulfed in warm arms that embraced her tightly.
"Oh, you're alright! What happened?? Are you hurt??"

Yelena pulled back from her mother's arms a bit uncomfortably, and certainly
confused. She'd pushed her away and yet she still fawned like nothing bad
had ever happened when she feared for her daughter. "I'm alright." she
mumbled. Gods, people were confusing.

The next day, Yelena was forbidden from going when her mother took Sansa
to talk. It didn't take her long to guess why. Sansa wasn't a child anymore.
She'd bled. She could carry children. Joffrey's children. And her mother
wanted to keep it from her as long as possible. She spent hours worrying and
fretting over it before coming to the conclusion that she had to find a way to
stop this from happening. The two hadn't been exceedingly close at
Winterfell, but she'd grown to know and like the girl over the time she'd
stood for her. She deserved better than this.

Unfortunately, while Yelena researched, the city prepared for siege against
Stannis. She wasn't sure what to hope for. She didn't want Joffrey on the
throne and she didn't want Stannis on the throne either. But at least Tyrion
knew how to handle Joffrey. The boy might be mad, but he could still be
manipulated. Stannis, however, could not. Yelena ran through all the
possibilities of what she could do to save Sansa and Tommen if Stannis was
victorious. She believed if she bent the knee to him, he would protect them.
She hoped.

Finally, it was time. The bells rang loudly through the city, alerting everyone
to the fleet's presence. Yelena had planned ahead; she wore a blue dress with
a hard, corsetted halter top, making it harder to stab her, while the lower half
was light and flowy, allowing for a wide range of movements. When the
bells started, she slid bronze forearm plates on, clasping them in place -
They'd be good defensively - and strapped two daggers to her thighs, sliding
a few little knives into her cuffs.

She ignored the servants waiting to usher her down from her room, making
her own way to the throne room, where she found Sansa with her new
handmaiden, Shae. the woman curtseyed. "My princess,"

Yelena grimaced. "No, please. There's no need." Not when her brother
hindered her at every turn, stripping her of all respect and authority. She
looked to her right to see her uncle Tyrion approaching through the soldiers
rushing about.
"Lady Sansa, and Sheila." he addressed them gently. "Beloved niece." she
smiled.

"Shae." the handmaiden corrected.

"Shae, yes." he looked back to Sansa. "Surely my sister has asked you to join
the other highborn ladies in Maegor's Holdfast. And Yelena, if your mother
doesn't see you there-"

"I know." she sighed. "She'll learn sooner or later that I can take care of
myself."

Sansa only nodded. "She has my lord, but KIng Joffrey sent for me to see him
off."

He entered then, the Hound on his heels. "Sansa!" he called across to her.

"Always been a great romantic, my nephew." Tyrion muttered sarcastically,

making the princess snort.

"Sansa, come here!" Yelena bit her tongue, but Sansa obeyed.

The girl turned to Tyrion once more before going to Joffrey. "I will pray for
your safe return, my lord."

His lips twitched as he waited for the other half of the sentence. "Will you?"

"Just as I pray for the king's." there it was. Though if anyone could appreciate
a good backhanded compliment, it was Tyrion.

When she turned away again, Yelena knelt to hug her uncle. "Don't die." she
said quietly, then chuckled. "You're not allowed to leave me alone here with
these people."

He smiled as she pulled back. "I'll do my best not to, young doe." her heart
ached suddenly upon hearing the old nickname, but she only nodded, turning
to follow Sansa.

"A king doesn't discuss battle plans with stupid girls." he snapped in response
to a question Sansa had asked.

She was beginning to apologise when the princess cut in. "I suppose it's a
good thing we're not stupid then, isn't it?" he shot her a vicious glare, but she
only extended a hand to Sansa, who took it with grace.

In the Hold, Yelena sat against the wall, watching absentmindedly as a mouse
nibbled her boot. But her mind was far away in a way it hadn't been since
before her father died. She thought of Jon, of Robb, of Arya and Bran and
Rickon, Catelan and Lishay too. She wondered what they might be doing, if
they were alright. Before she knew it, she'd drifted off to sleep. Who would
have thought that the first time she'd relax and get proper sleep in months
would be when they were under siege.

She dreamt of wolves and crows and ravens, of wildfire and dragons and the
Mad King. In her mind's eye, she saw Lishay and Ghost, Greywind and Lady,
Nymeria, Summer and Shaggydog.

With a start, she woke, the slamming of doors and a shouting ringing in her
ears. "Your Grace!" her eyes snapped open and she shot to her feet, hand at
the hilt of her dagger. But it was only her cousin, Lancel Lannister. What was
he doing here? He was meant to be fighting.

"What news?" the queen asked urgently.

"The Imp has set the river afire. Hundreds of ships are burning, maybe more."
Yelena's mind flashed to her dreams of wildfire, the green licks of flame that
consumed all they touched like acid. "Stannis's fleet destroyed, but... but his
troops have landed outside the city walls." he tried to whisper the last part,
but Yelena heard it clear as day.

Cersei remained frozen in place. "Where is Joffrey?" he asked, her voice

quiet and fearful.

"On the battlements with Lord Tyrion." he told her.

"Bring him back inside at once." she murmured.

"But... Your Grace..."

"What?"

"The king's presence is good for morale."

"Bring him back to his chambers now." she ordered, her voice taking on a
dangerous tone.

Lancel frowned. "Not here?"

"With the women and children?" she hissed. "Do you want him to be mocked
as a coward for the rest of his life?"

"No, but I-"

"Now!" Cersei let out a breath as Lancel left. She looked to Sansa. "When I
told you about Ser Ilyn earlier, I lied. Do you want to hear the truth? You
want to know why he's really here?" Sansa only frowned, but the queen
continued anyway. "He's here for us." Yelena blinked. Did she mean...
"Stannis may take the city, he may take the throne, but he will not take us
alive."

Yelena took a shuddering breath. The man was armed, but so was Yelena,
and she knew these walls better than anyone. She was born in this castle,
learned to walk in it's halls and chambers, and learned it's secrets too. If
worse came to worst, she would not let Sansa be killed without a fight. She'd
defend them if need be, and use the old secret tunnel in one of the walls of
this very Hold. she may well have been the only one who knew of its
existence. At least, she hoped she was.

When Lancel came back, he talked with the queen briefly before she punched
him and left, taking Tommen with her. "Yelena!" she beckoned, not looking
back.

The women began to panic, but before Yelena could speak, it was Sansa who
stood. "Don't be afraid!" she called. "The queen has raised the drawbridge,
this is the safest place we can be." Yelena blinked at her. "Joffrey's not hurt.
He's fighting bravely. His knights have rallied behind him. They will save the
city." the girl bit her lip. "Shall we sing a hymn?" as she began, the other
women in the hold joined in, and Yelena gave her a small wondering smile.

"You deserve better than my twat of a brother," she whispered to the girl.
"But you would make a damn good queen." the princess eyed Ilyn. "but we
have to go, now."

Sansa frowned. "What?"

"She's right." Shae said, appearing beside them, looking at Yelena. "Take her
to your room and bar the door."

She nodded. "That's the plan."

"Wait, why?" Sansa asked, looking between the two.

"Listen," Yelena told her. "Your father was loyal to Stannis. He won't hurt
you, but Ilyn will." Sansa finally obeyed, letting the princess tug her along.

They rushed through the halls until they finally reached the chambers. Yelena
locked the door behind them before grabbing a bundle off her bed that was
her gear, and grabbing the handle of a heavy-looking trunk. "Help me move
this.'' The girls dragged it into Yelena's study, locking that door too. She
shoved a chair under the handle for extra protection. Wasting no time, she
ducked behind a curtain, quickly slipping out of her dress and into her gear.
When she came out, Sansa was inspecting the trunk they'd brought in.

"What's in here?" she asked.

Yelena smiled, taking a key from her desk and opening the trunk to reveal her
sword, bow and quiver. "Come.'' She led Sansa to a comfortable little bench
on the opposite side of the room from the door. She strapped on her sword,
and slung her quiver over her shoulder, keeping the bow in hand. "No one is
getting to us now."
 cẦaẮtez tœelẴe ~ floœez
azzangements

HOURS PASSED BEFORE YELENA HEARD HER DOOR KICKED

OPEN. She'd told Sansa to stay back, nocking an arrow. The study door
thudded with repeated impact until it finally fell open. She'd drawn quickly,
taking aim only for two Lannister guards to step aside to reveal a man she
hadn't been sure if she wanted to shoot or not: Tywin Lannister. She'd
decided on not. "Grandfather," she'd breathed, relaxing the bowstring, the
arrowtip pointing to the ground.

He'd only chuckled. "Still fierce, little lion." he'd smiled. "Good. you'll need
it."

Now she sat beside her brother as he clopped into the throne room atop his
horse, to receive the King's Hand badge.

Her brother spoke as their grandfather approached. "I, Joffrey of House

Baratheon, first of my name, the rightful king of the Andals and the First
Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do hereby
proclaim my grandfather, Tywin Lannister, the savior of the city and the
Hand of the King."

Tywin took the badge from the servant offering it, seeming slightly amused.
"Thank you, Your Grace." with no further word, he turned his horse and left.

"Lord Petyr Baelish," Joffrey called. "Step forward." the lord obeyed with a
bow.

"For your good service and ingenuity in uniting the houses of Lannister and
Tyrell, I declare that you shall be granted the castle of Harrenhall, with all its
attendant lands and incomes, to be held by your sons and grandsons from this
day until the end of time."

"You honour me beyond words, Your Grace." Baelish told him. "I shall
have to acquire some sons, and grandsons."

Yelena snickered quietly, earning a disapproving look from her mother, who
was already displeased that Tywin was letting her daughter revert back to
her old and un-ladylike ways.

"Ser Lorace Tyrell." the king beckoned. The knight took the place Lord
Baelish had just stood, bowing. "Your house has come to our aid. The whole
realm is in your debt, none more so than I. If your family would ask anything
of me, ask it, and it shall be yours."

"Your Grace," Lorace spoke. "My sister Margaery, her husband was taken
from us before..." he paused a moment, trying to find the words. "She
remains innocent. I would ask you to find it in your heart to do us the great
honour of joining our houses."

Yelena sucked in a breath, her eyes going immediately to where Sansa stood
with the other ladies of the court. Could it be possible that her torment
might end, right here, right now?

Joffrey looked to the young woman. "Is this what you want, Lady
Margaery?"

She stepped forward with a sweet smile. "With all my heart, Your Grace. I
have come to ove you from afar. Tales of your courage and wisdom have
never been far from my ears. And those tales have taken root deep inside of
me."

He smirked a bit. "I too, have heard tales of your beauty and grace, but the
tales do not do you justice, my lady." Yelena studied her. It was true that she
was gorgeous, but something in her eyes told her the Lady was clever too. "It
would be an honor to return your love," the king continued. "But I am
promised to another. A king must keep his word."

Cersei smiled, though not kindly. "Your Grace," she began. "In the
judgement of your small council, it would be neither proper nor wise to wed
the daughter of a man beheaded for treason, a girl who's brother is in open
rebellion against the throne as we speak." Yelena looked down, fidgeting
with her hands. She'd sent another coded letter to Robb last night, warning
him of the arrival of her grandfather, and how quickly Stannis had been
defeated. "For the good of the realm, your councillors beg you to set Sansa
Stark aside."

Murmurs and gasps rang out, several calling for Margaery, but Joffrey stood,
silencing them. "I would like to heed your wishes and the wishes of my
people, but I took a holy vow."

Maester Pycelle was the next to speak. "Your Grace, the gods do indeed hold
betrothal solemn, but your father, blessed be his memory, made this pact
before the Starks revealed their falseness. After all," he looked to the
princess. "You called off your sister's betrothal to the Young Wolf. I've
consulted with the High Septon, and he assures me that their crimes against
the realm free you from any promise you have made to them in the sight of
the gods."

The king sighed, that haughty smile on his face. "The gods are good." he
declared. "I am free to heed my heart. Ser Lorace, I will gladly wed your
sweet sister." he looked to her. "You will be my queen, and I will love you
from this day... until my last day." applause rang out through the room, and
Yelena looked for Sansa again. This time, she saw her speaking with Lord
Baelish. The sight made her itch to run to the girl, to protect her from him,
but she wasn't permitted to leave yet, and Baelish hadn't hurt Sansa, which
meant her vow did not compel her to act. So she sat and worried as the
proceedings continued.

***

Days later, Yelena sat at the docks with Sansa and Shae, playing a game of
stories. They had to pick a ship, and make up a story about where it was
going, and why.

"Dorne." Sansa said. "It's going to Dorne."

Shae raised a brow. "Why Dorne?"

"It's carrying silk and... it's supposed to bring back wine in exchange." she
seemed to think for moment. "But it's not coming back. The captain's tired of
risking his life so King's Landing lords and ladies can get drunk on better
wine than they deserve."

The princess chuckled. "So what will he do if he's not returning?"

"He's going to stay in Dorne." Sansa replied. "Wait out the winter where it's
beautiful and warm."

"It sounds lovely." Yelena sighed.

"I met some people in Dorne who weren't so beautiful and warm." Shae
commented, making the girls giggle.

Yelena went next. "That one..." she pointed to a dull black ship that looked
as though it had seen better days, but the sail was a deep, crisp burgundy, and
the designs had lovely gold trim. "It's going... north." she smiled a bit,
thinking of Winterfell, and of Jon. "All the way to the Wall, actually. The
captain is manning the ship alone, but he's been on the seas a long time and
doesn't really need the help. He's growing tired of the wars raging in
Westeros, but he's heard so many tales of the beautiful vastness that lies
beyond the Wall. If he's risking his life, he wants it to be on his own terms.
When he docks, he'll ride out to Castle Black and walk right out into the
lands of the Free Men. He wants to see the beauty of it before he dies."

Sansa smiled. "What about you, Shae? What about that one

there?" "That one?" she observed the ship. "It's going to Volantis."

"Why?"

Shae sighed. "Because when I got on a ship in Volantis, it looked like that
one."

Sansa frowned. "That's not how the game works. You're not supposed to just
blurt out the right answer." she smiled a bit. "You've got to invent a story
about where the ship is going and why."

"Why should I make up a story when I know the truth?"

"Because truth is always either terrible or boring." Sansa told her, looking
wistfully out at the ships.

"Lovely day for it." a voice called. Yelena turned to see Lord Baelish coming
towards them. "Princess." he bowed. "Watching the ships."

"Lord Baelish." Yelena's voice was calm, but cold as she stood. "Indeed it is.
Might I inquire as to the nature of this visit?"

"I'd hoped to speak with Lady Sansa alone." he admitted.

Yelena turned to Sansa, asking silently with her eyes. The girl nodded, and
the princess turned her suspicious gaze back to the man. "We'll be right at the
end of the docks. Come, Shae. I'd like to discuss something with you."

The handmaid hesitated a moment, but followed. Whether the princess

enjoyed her title or not, it was still improper and punishable to disobey her.
The two stopped a short ways from the woman who'd come with Lord
Baelish, turning to watch the lord carefully as they spoke. "You can't trust
him." Yelena said quietly. "If he approaches her and I'm not around, he needs
to be kept under close watch."

Shae nodded. "I know. I don't know him, but I've seen others like him, so
many the same."

"I imagine there are." she murmured.

Soon enough, Sansa told Yelena about the offer Littlefinger made her, and
while she didn't trust the man or his intentions in the slightest, she knew that
if he could get Sansa out of here, the poor girl could stop fearing for her life,
and - while Yelena loved having the girl around - standing for her could
prove difficult sometimes. Her life with Joffrey on the throne would become
much easier if she were the only worrying about keeping herself alive and
covering her own tracks.
Days passed and Yelena continued to live in fear, dependent on the dagger
she kept in her sleeve or boot at all times, walking through the halls in the
ladylike dresses she'd become so accustomed to wearing she was confident
she could kill a man in one. She read and studied and ignored the ache she
felt in her chest when she fed letters to Jon Snow to the fire. She played
games of stories with Sansa, studied maps for possible escapes from the city
if something bad should happen, and occasionally spoke with Lord Varys and
her Uncle Tyrion. Tyrion she trusted fully, and she was growing to trust the
Lord of whispers a little more every day. Very few and far between, she
would sometimes speak with her grandfather, but she trusted him no more
than she trusted Cersei.

One day, a knock sounded on her door. "Yes, come in." she blinked upon
seeing the lovely blue dress and auburn hair of Margaery Tyrell. "Lady
Tyrell."

"Princess." she curtseyed.

Yelena gave her an odd look. "How may I help you, my lady?"

"Actually," Margaery's face became serious. "I've come to ask you to our
lovely little pavilion. My grandmother wishes to speak to you."

The princess's brows drew together. "Oh? About what?"

"Sansa Stark."

And so it was that Yelena found herself sitting at a table of grapes and cheese
and wine with Olenna and Margaery Tyrell. "It's lovely to see you princess."
the old woman smiled. "Such a pretty young thing. Yet I hear there's fire in
you too, isn't there, 'Call of the Wolf'?"

Yelena blinked in confusion, and Olenna gave her a pitying glance. "My,
your brother doesn't let anything find your ears, does he."

"Whatever do you mean?"

The woman sighed. "When Ned Stark's head was chopped off, you fought
harder than anyone to stop it." Yelena winced. "It took five knights and the
Hound to hold you, did it not?"

"Yes." the princess said quietly.

"Well, people began to speak of how your cries could call upon direwolves
and wake the dead to take your revenge for you. Ever since, people have
started calling you the Call of the Wolf."

Yelena chuckled. "I find it rather sad that that's what it took for the people to
realise my strength."

Olenna grinned at that. "Indeed it is! You're a little fireball and you deserve
acknowledgement for it. Now... about Sansa."

She blinked, straightening in her seat. "Yes."

"I trust you know through Varys that Littlefinger intends to bring the girl
along when he leaves this place?" Yelena nodded. "Good. then you'll be
pleased to know that I have a solution to save her from both Joffrey and
Baelish. I want to marry her to my grandson."

Yelena's brows shot up. She was truly beginning to like this woman, the first
person of nobility to have ever shared her bluntness. "To Lorace? So... she
would go to High Garden?"

Olenna nodded. "She would be kept safe there, I give you my word. And
Lorace will treat her very well. I wanted to discuss it with you because you
stand for her so long as she remains in King's Landing. I had to consult her
protector."

A small smile began to grow on the princess's face. "Yes! It's a wonderful
idea. And I know Sansa fancies him, at least a little."

Margaery smiled. "I've grown rather fond of her. I believe she'd be quite
happy there. Much happier than she is here in King's Landing."

Yelena sighed. "No one in King's Landing is safe or happy anymore. I'd
hoped Littlefinger might at least be able to get her out of here so she would
be free of Joffrey and I'd only have one life to look after once more, but..."
she smiled. "This is more than I ever could have hoped for."

Olenna chuckled. "Good. Let's start picking the flower arrangements."

 cẦaẮtez tẦizteen ~ Ẵoœs anд
alcoẦol

YELENA LEFT SANSA TO HER DAYS WITH SER LORACE, feeling

she was well enough protected, and that the young lord was a good enough
warrior that nothing bad would befall her while she was with him. It
turned out the princess had judged well on this particular occasion, which
allowed her more time for things like research and training through her
days.

Yelena was sharpening her dagger when Sansa burst in, tears running down
her face and sobs heaving from her chest. The princess shot out of her seat
just as the guards came running in. "I'm so sorry, my princess, she just-"

Yelena waved a hand impatiently. "Just shut up and get out." she snapped.
They obeyed, and she hurried to Sansa's side, pulling her into a tight embrace
and leading her to sit on the bed. The princess stroked her hair as the girl
leaned into her. "Shh," she whispered gently. "It's alright. It'll all be alright."
when her breathing had calmed, and her hiccuping sobs had fallen silent,
Yelena drew back to look her in the eye, her face full of concern. "Now... can
you tell me what happened?" when she hesitated, Yelena only gave a small,
sad smile. "I don't want to force you, Sansa, but it's my job to protect you,
and more than that, I want to protect you. I want to see you safe and happy. I
understand that's not possible here; even the first is only barely possible, but
that doesn't mean I won't try."

Sansa took a deep breath before speaking. "Your grandfather, he... he stopped
my betrothal to Lorace."

Yelena's mind turned as her eyebrows knitted together. "He wouldn't dare do
that to the Tyrell's unless there was a good reason, and if there's a reason,
he'll probably have you betrothed to someone else..."
Sansa nodded, though clearly not happy about it. "Your Uncle Tyrion."

The princess froze. "How do you know?"

"He told me. Just before I came here, he told me."

Yelena pulled her in again, rubbing her back soothingly. "It's alright." she
murmured. "I'll find a way to get you out of here yet."

She soon found out that Tyrion was not much happier about this match than
Sansa, not that she'd ever doubted it. She knew she could trust him though.
Probably more than anyone else in this wretched city. And so it was that she
found herself sitting with him over lunch, hoping he would listen.

Never one to shy away from what she wanted, she cut straight to the point. "I
have to get Sansa out of King's Landing." he blinked, clearly surprised, and
Yelena wondered if she truly had changed so much since leaving Winterfell.
"I don't know how or when or even who I can trust to help me, but I have to."

"But you trust me." he guessed.

She nodded. "I've known you my whole life, trusted you with my every
secret..." her mind flashed back to that night in the north when he'd found her
crying in the middle of the courtyard and she told him about Jon, something
even her mother didn't know about. "And you've been kind to Sansa. I'm sure
you don't want to see her hurt any more than I do."

He shook his head, knocking back a glass of wine. "She's a child." he

muttered. "A child who's been through far too much already, and now my
father wants me to wed her and make an heir."

Yelena clenched her jaw. She remembered when she'd been intended to be
sold off like luggage for an alliance, but at least she knew Robb, and knew
him to be one of the kindest people she'd ever met. She couldn't help but
wonder how long it would take Joffrey to realise how valuable she'd be to
marry off and betrothed her to some stranger. But there wasn't time to worry
about that. She had to worry about what was happening right now to one
particular girl. "If I ask for your help... would you give it? Provided, of
course, that you don't get caught."

He nodded, giving her a grim smile. "Of course I'll help."

The princess felt a bit more at ease, knowing she wasn't in this entirely alone,
but as she pored over books she'd snatched from the library that night, she
realised she still had no idea how to get Sansa out of King's Landing, nor
when. This was going to take a lot of work. Lots of very risky work. She felt
very thankful, in that moment, for her little alliance with Lord Varys.
Hopefully he'd be able to warn her if someone was looking too far into what
she was doing.

***

Yelena leaned against the wall of Sansa's room as her handmaidens prepared
her for the ceremony. Sansa's dress had been chosen for her, so it was
southern style, though Yelena knew the girl would have preferred her recent
reversion back to northern style of hair and dress. In honour of that, the
princess wore one for her, a lovely northern dress of deep green. She wore
her hair in a simple braid too, hoping that as much pleasure as this wedding
might give the Lannisters, she could give them something to frown about
too. She fiddled with the dagger in her sleeve as she watched. Weapons were
forbidden, but in her opinion, that just made some kind of surprise attack or
assassination so much more easy and likely.

A knock on the door made her stand up straight. That was probably Tyrion.
As Shae stood to open the door, Yelena moved to Sansa's side, offering a
hand, which the other girl took with grace. As the door opened, Yelena gave
her hand a squeeze before letting go.

"Lady Sansa," Tyrion greeted.

"You look very handsome, my lord." though her words were polite, the Stark
girl sounded as though she was going to cry.

He smiled tensely. "Oh, yes. The husband of your dreams." there was a tinge
of sad sarcasm in his voice. "But you do look glorious." that much was true.
As The princess looked over at her, she felt a small swell of pride in her chest
at how beautifully she'd grown. She only wished Sansa were marrying
someone she truly loved. She deserved some happiness, at least. "Perhaps we
could have a moment alone? Do you mind?"

Yelena gave Sansa's shoulder one more gentle squeeze before nodding and
walking out. Shae and Podrick, Tyrion's squire, followed only a moment
later.

When Sansa entered the Sept, Yelena was so glad she'd talked her mother and
grandfather into letting her, the girl's protector, give her away instead of
Joffrey because she looked absolutely terrified already. She stepped up beside
her, offering her arm as she'd done many times before. When Sansa took it,
she leaned over to whisper to her before they descended the steps. "You
should know that I don't care what your family name is, Sansa." she
murmured. "Stark, Baratheon, Lannister. I still stand for you, and I will
continue to protect you. I promise." the other girl nodded, looking a little less
afraid, and they started their way across the room to Tyrion. When they
reached him, Yelena turned, bringing Sansa into a hug before returning down
the steps to her family.

She tried to block out the entirety of the ceremony, instead thinking of the
wedding Robb had described to her in one of his letters; so much more
private, quieter and happier. Apparently he'd wed a young woman from
Volantis instead of one of the Freys as he'd originally planned in his wish to
storm King's Landing and save his father.

And when the ceremony was done, they feasted.

***

There were times when Yelena had envied her uncle for his drinking, but
never so much as tonight. She wished nothing more than to drink until she
couldn't remember her own name. Perhaps she'd sleep or perhaps she'd dance
all night. Perhaps she'd wake up in her own bed or in the bed of another. She
didn't really care, she just wanted to forget all that went on around her. But
she couldn't; this place was the most dangerous place there was to be
unaware, especially since she had Sansa to protect too. So she listened to the
music and the chatter and the laugher, snorting when she overheard Olenna
trying to figure out her new family tree now that Margaery was marrying
Joffrey and Lorace was marrying Cersei, and generally just kept her guard up
while the newly wedded couple sat over it all, looking miserable.

Yelena kept her distance when Sansa excused herself and went to mingle,
giving her her space while still remaining near enough to jump into
action should anything happen. She did however, decide to come near
enough to hear when Joffrey approached her.

"Congratulations, my lady." the king told her, a smug little smile on his face.

"Oh, thank you, Your Grace." she mumbled.

"Well, you've done it." he grinned. "You've married a Lannister. Soon you'll
have a Lannister baby. It's a dream come true for you isn't it?" he sighed
contentedly. "What a glorious day."

"Yes, Your Grace."

He laughed. "I suppose it doesn't really matter which Lannister puts the baby
into you."

That's when Yelena stepped over, placing a hand on Sansa's shoulder. "My
lady, Lord Tyrion wishes to see you."

Joffrey glared at her. "Excuse me, but your king is speaking with Lady
Sansa."

The princess smirked. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Your Grace, but the wishes of
the husband take priority at his own wedding." she took Sansa's hand. "Come,
my lady." without another glance, they turned, leaving a seething Joffrey
behind.

"Why does Lord Tyrion want to see me?" Sansa asked as they made their
way slowly back to the table.

"He doesn't," Yelena murmured. "But I'm not going to let Joffrey torment you
like that."
But apparently he was determined. They'd almost reached the table when he
called out, "Time for the bedding ceremony!" Yelena froze, and Sansa
stiffened beside her. She had to stop this.

"I'm sorry, but as Sansa's personal protector, I must insist that she not be so
publicly humiliated." she replied.

"Oh come now!" Joffrey said cheerfully. "Where's your respect for tradition,
sister?" Sansa leaned closer to the princess, almost behind her, and Yelena
gripped her hand more tightly. "Come, everyone, pick her up and carry her to
her wedding bed!" Yelena glared daggers at the little twat. "Take her dress,
she won't be needing it. Ladies, attend my uncle. He's not very heavy."

Yelena was about to protest very firmly, but it was Tyrion who spoke next.
"There will be no bedding ceremony."

"There will be if I command it!" Joffrey snapped. Yelena's hand went to her
dagger. She'd memorised the most discreet roads out of the city by now. If
she had to slash her little brother's throat and escape the city like that to
protect Sansa, she would. They'd climb out the window, take the fastest
horses and be gone. Difficult and dangerous, but not impossible.

But Tyrion wasn't playing Joffrey's little game. He leaned forward, stabbing a
knife so harshly into the table that it stuck there, making everyone stare.
"Then you'll be fucking your own bride with a wooden cock." he hissed. The
room was silent as death. Tywin rose.

"What did you say?" Joffrey's voice was a quiet threat, then an enraged shout.
"What. did you. SAY?!"

"I believe we can dispense with the bedding, Your Grace." Tywin stepped in.
"I'm sure Tyrion did not mean to threaten the king."

Tyrion let out a breath before laughing. "A bad joke, Your Grace." it seemed
good-natured, but there was venom underlying in his tone. "Made out of
envy of your own royal manhood." he leaned back. Yelena knew he wasn't as
drunk as he was making himself seem, but she was grateful for it. "Mine is so
small. My poor wife won't even know I'm there."
"Your uncle is clearly quite drunk, Your Grace." Tywin put in.

"I am." Tyrion chuckled. "Guilty." he took another drink. "But... but it is my
wedding night. My tiny cock and I have a job to do." relief flooded through
the princess. She knew he'd never touch Sansa. She was safe again for now.
He stumbled out from behind the table. "Come along, wife." Sansa looked to
Yelena for confirmation, who nodded. "I vomited on a girl once," Tyrion
droned on as they made their way out. "In the middle of the act. Not proud of
it. But I think honesty is important between a man and a wife, don't you
agree?" he sighed drunkenly. "Come, I'll tell you all about it. Put you in the
mood."

Yelena let out a sigh as they disappeared from sight before heading off to her
own chambers, ignoring the calls of her mother behind her.

It was then that she drank, knowing that her charge, her sister, was safe
without her. She ordered wine to be sent to her room. Then more. And more.
She drank until her vision blurred, and she forgot that she was nearly
eighteen. She drank until she thought she was sixteen years old again back in
Winterfell, laughing and dancing and eating with Jon and Robb at a party.
And the music carried on into her dreams, along with a pair of gorgeous,
distinct brown eyes. All I care about is you.

How many days passed before the raven came? She didn't know. All she
knew was that she sent a raven to Robb Stark, and the one that came back
was not his handwriting. They called it the Red Wedding. And when the
wretched screams were heard once more, falling from the windows of her
chambers, streaming under the doors, all those who heard knew it was the
Call of the Wolf once more.

Yelena had not let anyone in her room in twenty four hours. Her face was
tearstained, and her heart was numb. Robb was dead. Catelan was dead. His
new wife was dead and gutted of their unborn child. And the Lannisters were
behind it. She didn't know if Sansa knew yet, but either way, she had to speak
with her. So she dragged herself from her bed, pulling on a black, northern-
style dress. She slid her dagger into her sleeve and laced up her boots. Her
hair hung loose around her shoulders and the wolf pendant the Starks had
gifted her hung around her necks. She felt another wave of pain at the
thought
that Sansa could very well be the last Stark. Eddard was gone, Catelan was
gone, Robb was gone, no one knew if Arya, Bran or Rickon were alive or
dead.

It was almost worse when she realised Sansa had no idea. She sat with her by
the window, and explained all she could bear, tears falling freely. She held
Sansa when she cried, both girls falling deeper and deeper into their
heartbreak.

Hours later, when the girls still leaned on one another for support, the door
opened. When Yelena looked up, she saw Tyrion. And she knew he saw her
too. Saw her tears, saw the look of heartbreak and vengeance in her eyes.
And they both knew that the other had heard the tale.

That night, she struggled more than ever with the wish to write to Jon. She
fed seven letters to the fire, her heart breaking a little more every time she
watched the flames devour them. She stared at the walls of her room, hung
with flowers, paintings, poems. She looked at the gold trinkets that lay on her
desk and dresser, the pretty shells and the beautifully designed curtains that
hung around her bed. She walked swiftly to one wall and began violently
tearing things down and throwing them into the fire. She did the same with
the next wall. And the next. And the next. And the next, and the next, and the
next until every wall was bare. She snatched the gold trinkets and the
glittering shells, throwing them in next. She tore the curtains from her bed
and shoved them right into the fire, barely avoiding a nasty burn. She hung
black curtains around her bed and maps on her walls; a map of Westeros, a
map of each kingdom in detail, architectural diagrams of the Sept and the
Red Keep that might offer any weak points or escape tunnels. This was no
longer home. And as soon as she had a clean shot, Princess Yelena was going
to escape.

A/N
I think I was very tired when I wrote this chapter, So I'm sorry if there
are any spelling or gramatical errors. I'll have to edit later. Lol. See you
later, loves!
 cẦaẮtez fouzteen ~ дoznisẦ

THOUGH SHE STILL WORE BLACK IN MOURNING, much to the

irritation of her family, Yelena looked forward to meeting the Prince Oberyn
of Dorne and his lover. They'd come for Joffrey's wedding, but what
interested her was that he was a prince, and his lover a bastard. It made her
think of her own love for Jon Snow.

Apparently she was also doing a horrible job helping Sansa. Neither of the
girls ate much or slept much since the 'Red Wedding', and Yelena wasn't
willing to push her, seeing as she felt the same, though her heart grew harder
faster. She was growing accustomed to this loss far too quickly, all of it
numbing her in a frightening sort of way. One of her few assurances that she
wasn't going cold and mad was the way her heart skipped when a certain pair
of brown eyes came to mind.

Meanwhile, far north, the bearer of those eyes listened sadly as tales of the
Call of the Wolf arose once more.

***

Most days, Yelena left Sansa alone, knowing she preferred it that way. When
she wanted to see the princess, she came to see her, but other than that,
Yelena knew that as long as Sansa remained amongst nobles, only a fool
would try to harm her now that she was a Lannister.

Finally, the princess was called upon by Olenna Tyrell. When she arrived,
she was glad she'd accepted.

"I plan to get Sansa out of the city."

She blinked at Olenna's straightforward manner once more, something she

found usually only in herself around here. "You do?"
She nodded. "Indeed I do. I plan to send her off to the Eyrie, with her aunt.
She'll be kept safe there."

Yelena frowned. "But.. how? And when? Does anyone else know?"

Olenna nodded. "I cannot tell you, but I can assure you that only I and the
one transporting her know that her escape is part of the plan. I wanted to
make sure you knew so you wouldn't try to intervene- as you should as her
protector- and disrupt this delicate scheme."

Yelena nodded. "When do you mean to execute it?"

"I cannot give you more detail than that it will be on the day your brother
weds my granddaughter. You'll know the plan is finished. The part the other
knows of is not what I'd describe as discreet. When it's over, you'll see that
Sansa is gone. You mustn't fret. As soon as I get the raven from the on
transporting her to the Eyrie, I'll let you know it worked."

The princess took a breath. "Isn't there anything you can do to help?"

Olenna shook her head. "I'm terribly sorry we couldn't help you too dear, but
there will be far more eyes on you than Sansa."

She chuckled. "Don't worry about me. I could escape right now if I wanted. I
know this city well. But I could never have left Sansa. I stand for her, yes, but
she's also like family to me. It was much more than duty. What do you think
gave me reason to make the vow in the first place?"

"You're a strong girl." Olenna smiled, her pride evident. "Stronger than many.
Go now. You'll want to rest before seeing the success of my plan."

And though she tried, Yelena's only success was staring at the new black
drapes on her bed and hearing in her mind the screams of the Starks.

She rolled out of bed after another sleepless night and went straight to her
detailed maps of King's Landing and the Red Keep. Once Sansa was safely
out, she'd have to leave quickly. No doubt Joffrey would blame her, and then
who knows what kind of awful punishment he might concoct.
Finally the day had come. Yelena was done up in the loveliest of southern
gowns in a beautiful sky blue that somehow made her feel restricted and
exposed at the same time. She hadn't any long sleeves to slip her dagger into,
leaving her to only the small knives she could manage to hide in the folds of
her dress.

She sat in anticipation and misery now, at the royal table as the formalities
went on. "From house Tyrell and the people of the Reach," Lord Tyrell-
Margaery's father- intoned. "Your Grace, it is my honour to present you with
this wedding cup." he offered a large golden goblet with intricate designs.
"May you and my daughter Margaery drink deep and live long."

Joffrey nodded. "A handsome goblet, my lord." he smirked a bit. "Or shall I
call you Father?" Yelena almost snorted, but managed to refrain.

He bowed. "I should be honoured, Your Grace."

After he retreated, it was Tyrion who presented the king with a large old
book.

"A book?" Joffrey asked, disdain in his tone.

"The lives of four kings." Tyrion told him. "Grand Maester Kaeth's history of
the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the
Unworthy and Daeron the Good. A book every king should read."

Joffrey sighed, but after a quick look from Tywin, he simply said, "Now that
the war is over, we should all find time for wisdom." he nodded as Yelena bit
her tongue to keep from bursting out laughing. "Thank you, Uncle."

Next was Tywin's gift. "One of only three Valyrian steel swords in the
capital, Your Grace, freshly forged in your honour." Joffrey stood, excited to
try it, but Yelena sucked in a breath as her stomach twisted, realising where
it must have come from. No one in this city had that much Valyrian steel.
When Yelena's sword had been forged, her father had melted down the sword
of a defeated foe. This sword had once been Robb Starks, and Ned Stark's
before him. And now it sat in Joffrey's undeserving, grubby little grasp. The
thought made her want to retch.
The Maester chuckled as Joffrey gave it a swing. "Careful, Your Grace.
Nothing cuts like Valyrian Steel."

He grinned nastily at his sister. "So I've seen." he whirled then, chopping at
the book Tyrion had gifted him and insinuating gasps. He only smiled. "Such
a great sword should have a name. What shall I call her?"

A few names were called out from the onlookers, names far too great for a
sword wielded by this little twat. But Joffrey's choice was the worst.
"Widow's Wail, I like that." he turned gloatingly to Yelena and Sansa. "Every
time I use it it'll be like cutting off Ned Stark's head all over again."

You didn't cut off his head, you cowardly little shit. She thought, but kept her
mouth shut. This wasn't about him, she reminded herself. It was about getting
Sansa out of here that had to be her focus.

Eventually everyone all gathered in the Sept for the ceremony. Margaery
looked gorgeous, and Joffrey looked like a twat playing at king, but Yelena
was more worried about watching for Olenna's big moment. She'd said it'd be
impossible to miss. She hoped that was true. She stood between her mother
and little brother Tommen, waiting for it to be done, for Joffrey to have an
equal rather than having all that power to himself. And it was over. Without a
hitch. Yelena wasn't certain if her sigh was one of relief or disappointment.

The feast was full of entertainment, laughter and Bannisters stitched with the
Lannister Lion and the Baratheon Stag.

Despite all the tension, she couldn't help but smile when she saw their
Dornish guest. "Prince Oberyn," she inclined her head. "It's lovely to meet
you. I've so looked forward to it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Have you now, princess? It's rare to hear of a

Lannister wishing to meet a Martell. Why, might I ask?"

She grimaced. "Half Lannister, prince. And I'm rather fonder of my

Baratheon half, in recent years." her expression grew lighter. "As to why I
hoped to meet you, well it's so rare that we get exotic visitors. A royal
wedding doesn't happen every day, I suppose."
He chuckled. "And?"

She bit her lip. "And I was looking forward to meeting your lady." she tilted
her head to where Ellaria Sand stood just to his left. "I'd heard..." she
hesitated, not wanting to be rude. "Well, I heard that she was-"

"A bastard?" she finished, clearly amused. "Yes darling, no need to worry.
Though I don't understand why a princess of King's Landing would want to
meet a bastard of Dorne."

A small smile grew on Oberyn's face. "I think I can guess. You found your
own bastard didn't you? But a princess cannot be with a bastard. You wanted
to know how it was even possible for me to love her without being
disowned."

She blinked. "How did you- I mean yes, but..."

Oberyn smiled, offering a small shrug. "Things are different in Dorne. But if
I may give the princess some advice? Don't waste your life following the
rules that make you miserable. You'll both die unhappy. Break the rules. I've
heard of your skill in combat. No one can force you to follow these laws. So
don't." he gave a little bow, and the couple walked off, leaving Yelena
blinking. He was right, she supposed. The Boltons held Winterfell now, so
perhaps when she escaped she could go even further north... she shook off the
thought. Sansa first, Yelena.

When she turned, she saw Olenna talking to Sansa before excusing herself
and heading back to her seat. When she got closer though, she wished she
hadn't. "Sister!" she froze at the sound of Joffrey's all too cheerful voice.

But she turned all the same, gritting her teeth as she responded, "Yes,
Your Grace?"

He waved her over. "We were just discussing how it would be prudent to
have you married soon. I was thinking perhaps one of the Freys. After all
your hatred for your first betrothal, wouldn't it be appropriate to wed you to
one of the men responsible for the death of your intended."
Her breath caught in her throat. "Your Grace-"

"No, no, Joffrey." Tywin sighed, coming up behind her. "We have the
allegiance of the Freys. We still need to secure the loyalty of the Greyjoys.
Lord Balon has a nephew, does he not?"

Joffrey nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps."

When Tywin was gone, she turned her full attention back on her brother.
"Joffrey please," her voice was hushed, but desperate. "You know what the
Freys and the Greyjoys are like. You know what will happen-"

"Why should I care?" he smirked. "Every man who beds you is another one
loyal to me." her face grew pale, her fear overriding her fury. "Go on back to
your table now. We'll decide later, but it's almost time for pie."

Never had she run faster from her brother than she did then. She rushed back
to her seat beside Sansa, trying to keep her breathing even. The idea of trying
to escape Joffrey had been difficult enough, but if her grandfather needed her
for an alliance, there would be nowhere he wouldn't find her.
 cẦaẮtez fifteen ~ 6a6ặ 6zotẦez

JOFFREY STOOD, HIS KNIFE CLANGING HARSHLY AGAINST

HIS GOBLET FOR SILENCE. "Everyone! The queen would like to say a
few words."

Everyone clapped as she rose, smiling sweetly. "We are so fortunate to enjoy
this marvellous food and drink. Not all among us are so lucky. To thank the
gods for bringing the recent war to a just end, King Joffrey has decreed that
the leftovers from our feast be given to the poorest in his city." applause rang
out as she sat again.

The feast went on, and Joffrey's rather cruel entertainments went on too,
including a horribly disrespectful recounting of the war done by dwarves.
Yelena shot her uncle a sympathetic look as she put a comforting hand on
Sansa's shoulder, who froze when the dwarf dressed as Joffrey knocked off
the fake head of the one playing Robb.

Of course her brother had to make things worse though. "Oh, Uncle, I'm so
sorry we don't have a costume for you."

But Tyrion was smart. "I believe one taste of battle was enough for me, Your
Grace. I'd like to keep what's left of my face. You should fight him. This was
but a poor imitation of your own bravery on the battlefield. Be careful
though;" he nodded at one of the dwarves. "This one's mad with lust. It's be a
shame for the king to lose his virtue mere hours before his wedding night."

Yelena, who had been taking a sip of wine, now choked violently, spitting it
back out. She quickly leaned back out of view as she tried to control the
silent laughter that shook her body. The crowd was silent.

Standing, Joffrey walked slowly over, only to pour his wine on Tyrion's head.
Yelena winced.
"A fine vintage." Tyrion told him after a moment. "Shame that it spilled."

"It didn't spill." Joffrey said, his voice dark.

But it seemed Margaery had had enough. "My love, come back to me." she
said, her voice light. "It's time for my father's toast." the dwarves scurried off
as the king returned to his seat.

"But how does he expect me to toast without wine?" he asked innocently,

then smiled. "Uncle, you can be my cupbearer, seeing as you're too cowardly
to fight." Yelena bit her lip. This was not going to end well.

He sighed. "Your Grace does me a great honour."

"It's not meant as a great honour." Joffrey told him flatly.

Tyrion stood, approaching slowly. He almost had his hand on the cup when
Joffrey dropped it, forcing his uncle to crawl under the table for it. Thank the
gods for Sansa, who handed it to him from where it had sat by her feet
instead. Yelena watched in tense silence, hoping Olenna's distraction would
come very soon.

"What good is an empty cup?" her brother sniffed. "Fill it." but when it was
offered to him again, he still wasn't satisfied. "Kneel." he ordered quietly.
"Kneel before your king." Yelena's teeth gritted so hard she was sure they
could hear it across the Narrow Sea, her heart thumping with fury and a little
bit of that fear from earlier. "Kneel." Tyrion stood unmoving, but Joffrey was
growing more agitated and irritated each second. "I said... kneel!" Yelena's
eyes flitted desperately to Olenna, but she wouldn't meet the girl's eyes, her
expression neutral, with only a tinge of repressed irritation.

When Tyrion still stood, it was Margaery who saved them all. Her expression
went from tense and dark to bright in a split second. "Look, the pie!"she said
as she rose suddenly, as though nothing were wrong. The tension was broken
in that second and everyone clapped and cheered as the ridiculously large pie
was brought out. Yelena exhaled as Joffrey snatched his goblet, not realising
how long she'd stopped breathing for. Her chest ached now, but she ignored
it.
Joffrey took a sip of wine before taking up his sword and approaching the
huge pastry. He struck hard, breaking it open, and lovely white doves burst
out into the air. Yelena tried not to look at the poor birds he'd killed that sat
bloody inside the pie still. Everyone clapped and Margaery laughed.

"My hero." she smiled at him. The pie was served out, and Joffrey took a
little bit of his.

"Can we leave now?" the princess heard Sansa whisper.

"Let's find out." Tyrion muttered back, and they both quietly started away.
Yelena's heard pounded. The plan... Sansa had to be here... didn't she?

But Joffrey wasn't having it either way. "Uncle!" Tyrion stopped, clearly
frustrated. "Where are you going?" the king's lips twitched cruelly. "You're
my cupbearer, remember?"

Their uncle sighed. "Thought I might change out of these wet clothes, Your
Grace."

"Oh, no no no. No, you're perfect the way you are." he raised an eyebrow.
"Serve me my wine." Yelena bit her tongue to keep from jumping up and
screaming at her little brother, challenging him to a duel with that shiny new
blade of his. It wouldn't do him much good against her. She'd always been
far better that he was. But she sat still, her nails digging into her palms as she
clenched her fists. Tyrion obeyed, and Joffrey took a long drink. Yelena's
nails drew blood, but she didn't even notice.

Tyrion clenched his teeth. "If it please Your Grace, Lady Sansa is very tired-"

"No." Joffrey coughed. "No. You'll wait here-" another cough cut him off. He
tried to continue but the coughing wouldn't let up. Yelena's brows furrowed.
What was happening?

"Your Grace?" Tyrion frowned.

"It's nothing." he insisted between coughs. And then he gasped. And again.
And Yelena realised the same second Margaery did.
"He's choking!" the new queen cried panickedly.

Several people at the royal tables called for help, but Yelena wasn't sure who.
Her shocked eyes were on Joffrey as he dropped his wine goblet, stumbling
away. He fell to the ground, and in a moment of pure panicked instinct,
Yelena shot to her feet, heart pounding. He began to writhe as he choked and
gasped, Cersei and the princess running to his side. In that moment, she didn't
see what was before her; she didn't see the cruel little king who tormented
people for fun, who had wanted to marry her off to some shit kingdom to be
raped. All she saw was a pair of wide blue eyes, little wisps of golden hair as
she smiled down at her baby brother the first time she ever held him. She
could almost hear his burbling little laugh in her ears. When her vision came
back, she realised she and her mother were holding him between them.
Yelena's breathing was rushed and fearful as she watched his purpling face,
his eyes bloodshot and bulging, foam and bile spilling from his mouth. Blood
began to run from his nose, and a small ragged cry fell from the princess's
lips as she watched helplessly. His hand reached in a clutching sort of
manner in a single direction: Tyrion, who was inspecting the King's wine
goblet with a confused and disgusted expression. A tiny strangled breath
escaped Joffrey's mouth, and then he was gone.

"My son..." Cersei wept. And while Yelena's breath shook with every breath,
she did not cry. In fact, with each second that passed, her instinctual fear and
despair as a big sister dissipated, and all she was left with was relief. She felt
as if the weight of the world had been lifted off her chest and she could
breathe again since the day her father had died, leaving Joffrey on the throne.
"He did this." Her mother growled suddenly. Yelena blinked at her mother,
who glared at Tyrion in a murderous sort of way. "He poisoned my son...
your king." her gaze turned to the onlookers, then onto her brother once
more. "Take him. Take him!" As the guards grabbed her uncle, Yelena's
relief turned to anger and disbelief. How could her mother suggest such a
thing? What would Tyrion have to gain by poisoning the king so publicly,
when the cupbearer would be the obvious suspect? He was smarter than that
and Yelena knew it. Cersei knew it too. But it didn't matter. "TAKE HIM!"

Yelena stumbled back, her mind whirling, and then the puzzle pieces clicked
together. A distraction... her eyes shot up to where she'd last seen Sansa, but
the girl had disappeared from view. She whipped her head around to
Olenna. The older woman only held her gaze long enough to give the tiniest
of nods, nearly imperceptible, but that was enough. Yelena's fear left her in
a whoosh of breath. Sansa had escaped. She was going to her aunt, who'd
protect her.
She was safe.

"Where's his wife?" Cersei hissed, making Yelena's head whip back towards
her mother. "Where's Sansa?"

"Find her." Tywin told the guards. "Bar the gates of the city and seize
every ship in the harbor."

"Where is she?" the queen-mother screamed.

"No one leaves the capital!" Tywin ordered. "No one!"

Cersei ordered four guards to return the princess to her chambers. "No one
goes in or out of that room until I give the order!" and then before she could
protest, she was whisked away.

Back in her rooms, Yelena listened to the bells tolling from her window,
wishing she could escape too. When they finally stopped, Yelena's heart beat
faster. Had they found her? Or had she truly escaped? Finally, unable to
sleep, she sent a raven to Lord Varys. When the bird finally returned with the
news, she crumpled onto her bed, wanting to cry with relief. It was finally
over. Joffrey was dead, Sansa was safe. She could get out of here, away from
her mother, and with a lot of luck she might be able to escape her
grandfather, who still wanted to sell her off to Pyke. She shuddered, ridding
herself of the horrible visions filling her mind.

When she was finally set free of her rooms, she was required in the Sept. She
stood in one doorway for a long while, watching her oblivious mother and
brother look sadly down at Joffrey's body. Her brother... Tommen. He would
be king next. He was nothing like Joffrey, a good, sweet boy, but her mother
and grandfather would have their claws in him soon enough. She wanted so
badly to run to the stables and escape... but there was the matter of Tyrion.
He was innocent, but locked away. She sighed. He'd been there for her every
time she needed him. If there was any chance she could help him, she
couldn't leave. Finally, she turned on her heel and left, hoping to clear her
head with a walk.

She ended up walking all the way to Tyrion's cell, where two guards stood
strong. "Apologies, my princess, but we've been forbidden from letting you
in."

"Oh? Well I order you to step aside."

The other guard chuckled. "These orders came from someone higher up than
you, my princess."

She glared at him. "Really? Would you mind telling me who has the
authority right now? My brother? Is he king yet, or is he still a prince? My
mother, the former queen who's now only a lady of the court? My
grandfather, the Hand of the King? Or perhaps you still believe you owe
allegiance to my dead brother. As I seem to be the only one here who even
knows my rank, you have no right to question me on anyone's orders." While
they were busy rethinking their loyalties, Yelena strode right between them
into the cell to find her uncle speaking with his squire, Podrick.

"Do you believe I murdered Joffrey?" Tyrion asked.

"Gods, of course not!" she interrupted, making Podrick jump.

"Dearest niece." Her uncle smiled. "You don't think I killed your brother?
Even after-"

"Don't." She cut him off. She didn't want to remember how her heart stuttered
when he died, how she didn't even know she was cradling him in her lap until
she was already there because it was nothing but pure instinct. Someone she
should have hated.

He nodded, understanding. "Well I'd like to think if I were arranging a royal

assassination, I'd plan it in such a way that I wouldn't be standing there,
gawking like a fool when the king died."

"Well the one who planned it did a good job." Yelena muttered, making him
frown.

"Yelena... did you-?"

"No!" she exhaled swiftly. "No, I didn't kill Joffrey."

"But you know who did?" he asked quietly.

She hesitated before nodding. "I was told there would be a distraction at
Joffrey's wedding that would allow Sansa to escape. I was told not to panic
when she disappeared. She's being taken somewhere safe."

"So you know who killed your brother and you know where Sansa is?"
Tyrion clarified.

"I only know who was involved. Someone who knew enough to help me get
Sansa out, but I can't tell you or anyone else. I owe everything to this person
for getting Sansa out of here. I have a chance now..."

He smiled a little. "To escape." the princess only nodded. "Where will you
go now that the Boltons hold Winterfell?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "But anywhere is better than here."

He nodded, still looking a bit confused. "Why are you still here then?
Couldn't you have escaped in the chaos."

She snorted. "Do you truly think I'd leave you here on trial for something you
never did? After all you've done for me?" he looked about to argue. "No.
Shut your mouth. I'm not leaving until I can get you out too." she turned on
her heel and left, not seeing the little smile of pride on his face when the door
closed.
 cẦaẮtez sitteen ~ zunning

THE DAYS BEGAN TO PASS IN BLURS WHILE YELENA

IGNORED HER MOTHER AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE. She'd avoid her
in the corridors and lock her out when she came to the princess's rooms. She
didn't want to have to worry about Cersei trying to convince her Tyrion killed
Joffrey or revisiting what she'd felt the day her little brother died, what she'd
seen. Those big blue eyes and giggles still came back to her sometimes when
she slept. Instead, she worried about how to help her uncle, how to escape,
and locking away that gaping hole in her heart that wanted so badly to write
to Jon.

But there were other times when her mother couldn't be avoided. Like when
she stood at her brother's coronation and watched him be crowned with sad
eyes, knowing Cersei and Tywin were probably tearing into him already.
When the initial ceremony was over, and everyone was mingling, she made
her way up to where he stood to pull him into a hug. "I'm so proud of you,
baby brother." she whispered. "You'll make a wonderful king." she pulled
back, and brother and sister exchanged smiles before she gave a little nod and
retreated back into the crowd.

Next came Tyrion's trial. She watched the charges spew from her
grandfather's mouth. She watched the witnesses, watched him bite back,
watched the smirk on her mother's face... and watched him demand trial by
combat when Tywin disgraced him further by sinking so very low as to find
Shae - who was apparently somehow one of Tyrion's whores - to put on the
stand. Yelena was furious. She could only imagine how her Uncle must feel.

A day or so later, she stormed out to the gardens. There was simply no way
to get Tyrion out without help. That was when she felt the presence behind
her. Quick as a flash, she whirled, dagger out and against his throat before he
could react. His face wore a surprised smirk, his hands up non threateningly
in the air. Yelena blinked. "Prince Oberyn." she lowered her dagger. "I'm so
sorry."

"Well, I suppose it's good you can defend yourself princess." He chuckled.

She frowned slightly in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"I hoped I might have a word." She hesitated before nodding, and the prince
continued. "It was entirely awful of your grandfather to take someone Tyrion
trusted so fully and force her to lie. The Martells and the Lannisters have a
terrible history, but he does not deserve to go like this. Not from what I've
seen."

"He doesn't." she murmured.

"I thought so." he nodded, pausing a moment. "Choosing trial by combat was
very risky. How can he be sure anyone will fight for him?"

Yelena sighed. "Because he's smart enough to realise he must have at least a
few dwindling allies. I hop he's right."

"You seem quite fond of him. He must have faith that there are people like
you, willing to take the risk."

She froze. "You're right." she blinked up at the prince. "You're right, he has
faith in people like me." the princess began to back away a few steps, her
mind whirling. "I'm so sorry, I have to go. But thank you. Thank you so
much."

She didn't make any stops between the gardens and the throne room barging
straight in through the doors to find Tommen in the middle of speaking
with a citizen, the lords of the small council and the ex-queen around him.

Cersei frowned. "Yelena, my darling, what are you-"

"I claim the place of the champion!" She called out, not a single note
of hesitation in her voice. "I will fight for Tyrion Lannister in his Trial
by Combat!"

Her mother's face seemed to run through an entire scale of emotions before
selling on horrified. "No... no, Yelena it's Clegane-"

"There are no restrictions as to who can or cannot fight in the Trial." Her eyes
were not on her mother, not on Tommen, but on Tywin. "You dare not
refuse."

He watched her for a long, outstretched moment, as though internally

rearranging every view he had of his granddaughter. "No." He said finally. "I
do not."

***

From that moment, Yelena counted the days, hours, minutes she had to wait
for the trial. She practised harder than she ever had, staying away from
anyone and everyone for as long as she could. And there was nothing Cersei
could say to make her withdraw. Her heart beat faster every time she
imagined what it might be like to finally be free of this place, and of her
wretched family. Sure, she still held some love in her heart for her mother
and brother and certainly for her sister, but her sister was happy in Dorne, her
brother was controlled by their mother and... her love for her mother, she
decided, she would lock away somewhere deep inside. Perhaps one day she'd
open the box and examine it more closely, but for now, it was better it stay
buried.

Finally the day had come. She could hear the roaring crowd as the Mountain
entered the pit, and the voice of her uncle just ahead. "I don't understand. If
I have a champion, why will no one tell me his name?"

"Because he is a she." He turned in shock at the sound of her voice to find

Yelena in her gear, a bit of light armour strapped on over top, sword and
dagger at her sides.

"Yelena- what- how... No." He rushed forward, taking her hands. "You
cannot do this. Not for me. That monster will kill you."

She arched an incredulous brow. "So much faith in me, dear uncle. It's too
late to back out now anyway." She gave him an earnest look, accompanied by
an attempted reassuring nod that actually did very little to assure him. "Trust
me." And with that, she marched into the pit.

She tuned out Maester Pycelle as he droned on about the gods or something
of the like, turning her full attention to her opponent. As soon as the fight
began, he took a swing far too obvious, as though he thought her an amateur.
Yelena avoided easily, jumping back out of its reach. It doesn't matter how
large your opponent is. Her trainer had told her. If you're faster and smarter,
and if your heart is in it, you will never fail. Well, her heart had probably
never been in it as much as it was now. She could do this. She had to do this.
She blocked his next blow easily, spinning past him to land a cut on the back
of his leg. Back and forth across the sands they duelled, a close
mach. Fighting is a dance. Your blade must have grace as it flows. When
their blade cannot dance any longer, when it has no more grace to spare, it
is already over. She hoped she could keep her grace. And then, of course,
something had to go wrong. She misinterpreted which way he was going to
step, and the flat of his huge broadsword smacked across her chest, sending
her flying into the wall, a horrible crack echoing in her ears. A painful cough
left her mouth as her eyebrows pulled together at the burning sensation
running through her torso. probably a broken rib. The wall met her back hard
and a cry emerged from her lips, eyes squeezing shut. "And now you're
dead." She opened them again to find her trainer's sword pointed at her
neck.

She groaned as he pulled it away, pulling herself into a sitting position with a
rather grumpy look on her face. "I'm never going to learn, am I?" She
scowls. "Just keep getting tossed into walls." This was the third time now.

He laughed. "Maybe. But you want to know the good part about being thrown
into walls? You can get behind their blade and land a real blow."

The Mountain's sword struck the ground a mere inch from her throat. With a
yell, she grabbed the blade, kicking her feet around to swing behind it,
Drawing her dagger and plunging it into his gut before rolling under his legs
and away. When he dropped the dagger to the sandy ground, it stuck there,
hilt sticking up out of the ground. He as angry now, and while it made him
strike harder, the blows also became clumsier. Strike, block, strike, strike,
block, parry. Trip. That was not part of her plan. Yelena's foot caught on the
dagger in the ground just as her opponent landed a strong blow against her
sword, and she fell to the ground. Her sword slid out of reach and before she
knew it, there was a weight pressing down on her chest; the Mountain's foot,
pressing harder and harder, the unmistakable sound of her ribs cracking
filling the quiet of the arena. She let out a cry of pain, her fingers still falling
just short of her sword hilt. The dagger. She reached down, yanking it up out
of the ground and stabbing into his leg. With a shout he stumbled away, the
weight up on her releasing and allowing her easy breathing once more. But
the job wasn't finished. She leapt upwards, arms locking around his neck and
swinging her body around behind him. She drove her knee into his back,
sending him falling face-first into the ground. She grabbed his own sword
from the ground and with a roar, plunged it deep into his back. He was dead.
The stands were silent for a long moment, and then they screamed with
cheers. Yelena let herself fall back off the body, chest heaving. At the same
time though, each breath felt like being stabbed. Stupid ribs. She coughed
twice, only to find blood on her fingers. slowly, very slowly, she turned
burning eyes on her mother... and spat red. After a moment, she stumbled to
her feet, and off to where Tyrion stood, her brows furrowed with hurt. It was
over.

***

By the next morning, she was still sore, but knew it was time to go. Her uncle
was free, and now she could be too. She was about ready to leave when a
certain master of whispers came to deliver some very interesting news.

Yelena rushed down the halls, bag and weapons concealed beneath her cloak,
pushing into Tyrion's room without knocking and finding him talking with
Jamie. "We need to go. Now."

He frowned. "What's the matter?"

"Cersei. She has assassins after you."

"And where are you going??" Jamie demanded.

"Anywhere that's not here. I'm done with this miserable place." She nodded at
the smaller of the two. "Come on!"
Without further question, he followed her out and down to the tunnels
beneath the Red Keep. "Alright," She said finally, stopping at a fork in the
hall. "This is where I leave you. Up ahead you need to turn right and up the
stairs. Do not turn left. That will bring you up near the chambers of the
Hand. Varys is waiting on a ship that will take you to Essos, and the one
person that might save these god forsaken kingdoms."

"Daenerys Targaryen." He realised. She nodded. The dwarf looked up at her

with an emotion she couldn't read in his eyes. "Yelena... there is no way to
repay you for this."

She took one knee, pulling him into a tight hug. "There is no need. I would
never have survived Joffrey without you. I would never have survived King's
Landing without you." When she withdrew, she flashed a somewhat sad
smile. "Perhaps we'll meet again someday."

He chuckled sadly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear like he'd done
when she was a child. "My, how much you've grown. I'll miss you, my
niece." they both turned to leave, but Tyrion hesitated a second. "Yelena."
she looked back. "You might want to give your Jon Snow a chance. It may
not be too late." and then he was gone, and Yelena was left blinking as her
mind was filled with those beautiful brown eyes.

***

Yelena came to her senses quickly after her uncle left, running down the turn
in the halls until she reached a dead end. She felt her way across the wall
until part of it moved. She shoved open the secret section of the wall,
looking into the dark hall. She sighed, her heart aching a tiny bit for all she'd
left behind, but when she reached up to grasp the wolf pendant around her
throat, she felt a little surge of confidence. She was doing the right thing. The
tunnel came out into an empty courtyard near the stables. Without any
further hesitation, Yelena headed straight for Dawn's stall.

"Hey girl," she murmured, grabbing her saddle and reins. "We're finally
getting out of here." She quickly saddled up her horse, sticking her bag in one
of the saddlebags and attaching her bow, quiver and sword. Her hand brushed
over the dagger at her waist, and she felt her heart thump with excitement as
she hoisted herself up into the saddle. She could hardly believe that after
more than two years of torture and planning and wishing for escape, she was
finally leaving. And the princess couldn't help but smile. Quietly urging her
horse on, she galloped out of King's Landing and into the night.
 cẦaẮtez seẴenteen ~ 6ets anд
6ziganдs

YELENA HAD BEEN ON THE ROAD FOR NEARLY TWO WEEKS

NOW, hunting what she could and camping where it was safe. She'd tried
taking the King's Road at first, but after a couple close calls with Lannister
soldiers, she decided it was best to stay just off it, taking the smaller and
lesser-known roads around its edges. Occasionally she would go into towns
and villages, keeping a low profile, but she never stayed for long. She knew if
she stayed more than a couple hours, it wouldn't take her long to be
recognised. Especially not with one of the few Valyrian Steel swords in the
world at her side.

Tonight, she sat by the dying embers of her fire, reading about direwolves
while Dawn rested, the discarded bones of the rabbit she'd hunted cast only a
short distance away. When the fire died out completely, she rested her back
against a tree, pulling her cloak tighter around her. Without realising she
hummed a soft tuneless melody, her mind wandering to her days at
Winterfell; dancing and laughing at the parties with Jon and Robb, reading
with Arya, the long conversations with Sansa about the south, Teaching
Bran to shoot, tucking Rickon into bed... and she could remember the warm
embrace of Lord and Lady Stark too. It was what she thought of as she
slowly drifted off to sleep.

The princess woke to the pale morning sun just as it was beginning to warm
the tops of the trees. She yawned as she tried to stretch out her sore back,
wishing she had her direwolf to cuddle up with. Sweeping her hair out of her
face, she pulled it back into a braid and moved to where she'd left Dawn last
night. The horse stood only a few yards away now, grazing. Yelena sighed.
She knew Dawn needed more than grass, but she'd need money. Biting her lip
gently, she bridled the horse and tied the rope off to a tree, checking that her
dagger was hidden in her boot. "I'll be back soon." she murmured before
turning and striding off to the town close by.

When she first began making her way through the streets, she had no idea
how she might gain money, but the answer became glaringly obvious the
third time she passed the same man; a man betting quite a bit of gold on life.
Her uncle had spoken to her before about the benefits of betting when you
were rich. Well, her life was quite a thing to bet on, but soon, there would be
more than food for her horse that she couldn't afford.

So it was that she turned towards the man, every instinct telling her this was a
terrible idea. "How do we play?"

He grinned at her. "Two goblets of wine. One vial of The Strangler." Yelena
shuddered. That was the same poison that had killed her brother. "The poison
goes in both goblets. Whoever dies first is the loser. Whoever wins..." his
smile grew wider. "Will be given a vial of the cure by my friend here." a
hulking man seemed to melt out of the shadows beside him, startling Yelena.
She let out a small, annoyed breath, contemplating her choices. She could
walk away right now and find another way... but there was quite a bit of
money on the table. She'd never find a reward like this anywhere else. Or
stakes so high, the logical part of her tried to reason. She ignored that part.

Inside a tavern, she sat opposite the man, his burly friend lurking quietly
behind him. Two wine glasses sat before them. He laughed as she eyed hers.
"You sure you want to do this, girl?"

Her eyes hardened when they met his, and she nodded. "No tricks." she
warned.

A girl at a nearby table laughed. "Oh there's no trick, darling. I've seen him
do this a hundred times."

That's a hundred times that he's won then. Yelena realised, but she shook the
thought off. She could do this. She took a deep breath as they both raised
their glasses. "Your health." her opponent smirked. And then they both
tipped back their glasses, emptying them in one shot.

The princess blinked as their eyes met again. Her throat tingled slightly, and
her chest felt tight. The feeling made her panic. What had she been thinking?
She was going to die here, horribly and painfully and far from any sort of
home. Her brother's dying face flashed through her mind but she shoved the
memory away. I will not die. She thought forcefully. She wasn't sure how
long they sat there. Maybe it was one minute, maybe it was fifteen, maybe it
was an hour, but with each passing second, her wolf pendant grew warmer
against her skin. She clenched her jaw as warm turned to hot, but soft
hacking brought her out of it. The man across from her... his eyes had grown
bloodshot, his breathing heavier. He coughed again, harder this time, and
then harder still until finally he was on the floor, choking and writhing, just
like her brother. And then he was still. Yelena let out a sharp breath, shock
filling her as her eyes turned on the large man who had accompanied her
opponent.

"WHY YOU LITTLE-" he started towards her, but she sprung up out of her
chair, taking a defensive position.

"I did nothing wrong." she said calmly. "I followed your rules and I won. I
want my cure and my money." he still looked like he wanted to shred her to
pieces, but he clearly didn't want to break the rules before all of these people
who'd seen the game before. With a low growl, he fished a vial and a
decently sized coin purse from his pocket, tossing them both over. The
princess unstoppered the vial quickly, swallowing it down. The burning
against her collarbone, she realised, had dissipated. Her eyes moved up to
the shocked onlookers, and a small grin flashed across her face. "As you
were."

Yelena continued along after that, still keeping off the King's Road, and
rather satisfied with her prevailance. She pulled the necklace over her head,
studying it carefully. It was entirely cool now, but she had a feeling it was no
coincidence that it burned when she swallowed that poison, no coincidence
that she survived it while the metal touched her skin. Somehow, it had saved
her.

When she stopped again that night, she decided to examine it more closely
by the firelight. Poking at it with her dagger, she finally discovered that it
opened, and inside she found a shiny, teal-coloured moss. She frowned as her
finger brushed getly over the cool surface, and then it clicked. Of course...
she thought to herself. Skulking Stickweed. The one plant that can absorb any
poison through the skin. Brilliant. She smiled as she remembered the day it
was given to her, sending a silent thanks to Eddard and Catelan. "You saved
me again." she whispered.

***

A week later, Yelena was saddling Dawn in the early morning light when she
heard a twig snap behind her. She froze, hand on the sword in her saddle.
"What's a pretty little girl doing all alone in the woods?" she whirled,
drawing her sword to face six large men. Brigands. She cursed herself from
not staying further from the King's Road. She might have avoided this mess
that way. Her eyes flickered through the trees, hoping there were no more
men.
The six before her were enough as it was all of them at least twice her size
and all of them carrying large scimitar blades.

"Leave now." She told them evenly. "Perhaps I won't have to hurt you."

The laughter didn't even stop before the first blow was struck, Yelena
blocked easily, parrying and dodging around the men, trying to give herself
more space. She led them chasing her around trees, but she realised quickly
that they were pushing her back to the King's Road. In a flash of intuition,
she guessed that they must know who she was. They wanted others to
recognise her, making her fight even more difficult. Though she tried to
redirect their fight, she quickly ended up right where they wanted her,
stumbling into the bustling market on the road. Shouts and the sound of
clashing steel rang out, drawing far too much attention before she finally
managed to slice her blade across one of their throats. She whirled and
ducked and blocked and parried, a beautiful sight to behold, but she was
tiring. She took down two more before one landed a slash on her thigh. She
cried out in pain, stumbling back. She worked mainly defense now,
stumbling further and further away until she found herself fighting them in
an empty hut. But only two. Where was the third? She finally spotted him in
the doorway, grinning. Her eyes moved to the torch clutched in his hand, and
widened. "NO!" she lunged too late, and he dropped it onto the hay-covered
floors, lighting the building ablaze.
And when Yelena saw the flames rushing towards her, she knew there was no
escape.

**Jon POV**
Jon sat at his desk as the new Lord Commander as Sam handed him page
after page to read or sign. They kept up idle conversation as they tried to
stave off the impending boredom that would crash down on them until Sam
hesitated. His eyes scanned the page.

Jon frowned. "What's the matter?"

Sam gulped. "I-I... uh..." he took a breath. "You may want to skip this one."

Fear began to bite at the back of his mind. What was it? What could possibly
go wrong anymore? Everyone he loved was either dead or missing. Not
everyone... "Sam." His tone was firm. "Are you going to read it, or do I have
to take it from you?"

Sam, still looking far too upset for Jon's liking, nodded hesitantly before
continuing. "Well... it seems that about two months ago... Princess Yelena
Baratheon disappeared from the capital. They have reason to believe it was
an escape and not a kidnapping."

Jon's eyes widened, his heartbeat quickening. Yelena... of course he found

himself thinking about her often, hoping she was alright, but could she truly
have escaped? Unfortunately that didn't explain the sorrowful look on Sam's
face. "And?"

"And she was spotted on the King's Road heading north only a few days
ago... when she was..." Sam trailed off.

Jon felt his chest squeeze with fear. "When she was what?"

Sam blinked hard, looking down. "When she was slaughtered by brigands."

And his world shattered. His ears began to ring, his breath hitched in his
lungs, and he felt as though he were being slowly and agonisingly crushed
into the ground. "No."

"Jon-"

"I need to be alone. I need to think."

"Jon, please..."

"That was an order, Sam." his friend obeyed this time, leaving the rest of the
paperwork on the desk.

Jon's mind flashed back to that night in the courtyard, the last time he'd seen
her, though he didn't want to remember it now. How she'd let him hold her,
how she'd tried to bite back tears when she told him about the betrothal. He
didn't want to remember how she'd told him she loved him, that he was worth
more than any man, those perfect lips on his. But the worst memory was of
how he left her standing there, alone and crying. He never told her how he
felt, never told her he was sorry. And now he never could. She was dead,
gone forever. His breathing quickened with the threat of tears. His princess.
His Yelena. She was dead. Unwillingly, his mind flashed to the letters he'd
written her over the years when he missed her most, letters he found himself
feeding to the hearth rather than tying to the leg of a raven. And every
thought broke his heart a little bit more.
cẦaẮtez eigẦteen ~ loẴe anд дeatẦ

JON DIDN'T KNOW HOW MUCH TIME HAD PASSED, how long it
took him to bury his regrets, his nightmares, but he did. He buried them deep,
not sure if all he wanted was to forget them, or if that was the last thing he
wanted. But it didn't really matter.

He sat at his desk one morning as Edd handed him a steady flow of papers
requiring his signature when a knock sounded on the door. Jon sighed, rising
to his feet. He expected it was the new recruits that were meant to arrive
soon, and he was rather grateful for the distraction. But his brows furrowed
in confusion when it was Olly who opened the door.

"Lord Commander, a woman has arrived asking for you." he told Jon. "Ser
Alliser has taken her to the hall."

Jon looked to Edd in confusion, but his friend only shrugged, uncertain.
Leaving the paperwork behind, Jon hastily made his way down to the hall,
thoughts of Sansa and Arya playing at his mind and igniting a small
flickering hope that perhaps it was one of them. Upon reaching the large
doors, he hesitated, unable to explain the strange racing in his heart. Without
another moment of hesitation, he pushed open the doors to see Ser Alliser
speaking with a figure at the other end of the hall and nearly stopped
breathing.

She was facing away from him, but there was no possible way it was anyone
else. Her stance was just as he remembered, full of confidence and charm, his
own wolf cloak from that night so long ago wrapped around her shoulders.
She was a tiny bit taller, and her hair a bit longer, but when she turned, it was
her, sure as hells. His eyes stayed locked on hers, his feet rooted to the floor.
Her expression was a little nervous, maybe even a little vulnerable when she
saw him.
Looking at her now, Jon wasn't certain he'd woken up at all this morning. He
didn't speak her name, for fear she would crumble to ash before him, and he
would wake to the cold horrible reality. But then came the sound of her
voice, his name slipping from her lips as though she too thought that perhaps
she was dreaming. "Jon?" It was a sound he'd missed, one he'd nearly
forgotten, never hearing even in his dreams. And he knew then that he was
awake.

The small distance between them suddenly felt enormous and where his feet
had been stuck to the floor a moment ago, he now rushed forward, quickly
closing the space as he pulled her into his embrace, her head still tucking
perfectly beneath his chin as his fingers tangled amongst her hair. "I thought
you were dead... I was never going to see you again... never get to tell you
how sorry I was." the words slipped from his mouth, rushed and quiet, and
even through his own racing heart, he could feel the precious thump thump
thump of hers, leaving him full of indescribable satisfaction. "Yelena, I'm so
sorry. I never should have left you behind. I love you... I always have."

Though Yelena remained silent, he could feel the tension leave her, her body
settling into his like a pile of warm furs and he wished they could just stay
there like that forever. When she drew back, he could see tears glittering in
her brilliant green eyes. She'd grown even more beautiful since he last saw
her, he realised, and gained a scar too; a thin white line tracing across her
cheek. He wondered where it had come from. "Shh," she whispered
soothingly, a hand raising to cup his cheek. "You don't have to apologise. If
anyone should be, it's me. After everything my family has done... it's
unforgivable."

He gave her a little smile. "I know you had nothing to do with that, Call of
the Wolf."

That made her laugh a bit, and seeing her smile again made him want to
lift her up and kiss her, start over again from that night at Winterfell. But
there were too many curious eyes, and he had his vows to worry about.

Breaking Jon's chain of thought, Ser Davos strode in, his expression
becoming bewildered at the sight of Yelena. "Princess Yelena? But- you
can't be- you were dead!"
She chuckled. "I get that one a lot these days. But if you don't mind, Ser
Davos, I'd prefer to keep it that way for now." her eyes turned back to Jon.
"My mother can't know. She doesn't know I'm alive, but if she finds out I'm
here..." she gave a little shudder, as though trying to dispose of the thought.
When her eyes settled on Davos again, they were full of questions. "What are
you doing all the way up here? Are you with my uncle?"

His expression darkened. "Your uncle... tried to take Winterfell. He was

unsuccessful."

Jon watched her expression turn to one of worry. "And..." she hesitated.
"Shireen? Last I heard he dragged her along with him..." Davos's heartbroken
expression was all she needed. She squeezed her eyes shut, pain evident in
her face. "Poor, sweet girl." she whispered. "She deserved so much better."
When she opened her eyes, her expression became tinged with confusion.
"What was Stannis doing up here?"

"There's certainly much to talk about." Jon sighed, and began to lead her over
to a table, a gentle hand on her back. He didn't miss the curious look Davos
shot them, clearly taken aback by Jon's over familiarity with royalty. They sat
down, and he began to explain everything to her; Sam, the wildlings, Gilly,
his being elected Lord Commander, the Night King and his army at
Hardhome and how none of his recent decisions as Commander were earning
him any friends in the Watch. When he was done, he could see in her eyes
that had it been anyone else telling her this, she'd never have believed a word
of it. But she believed him. He was certain of it.

She exhaled slowly, moving her hands to rest on his. "I don't see how you
could have chosen any differently Jon. Leaving the wildlings, whether you
care for them or not, only adds to the Night King's army and if your brothers
here can't see that then they're idiots." he smiled. Gods, how he'd missed her
blunt honesty.

She raised an eyebrow. "What's so amusing, Lord Commander Snow?"

His lips twitched. "You're really going to start calling me Lord Commander
now?"
Her expression lit up instantly. "Of course!" she laughed. "Revenge for
calling me 'Princess'."

Jon felt a spark of hope and joy light in his heart at the sound of her laughter.
He wanted so badly to run back to the times when everything was simple,
when their friendship was entirely untarnished. Who was he kidding? He
knew they both wanted more than just friendship, but he was bound to the
Night's Watch until the day he died. The realisation snuffed out the spark
quickly, and Jon cleared his throat. "What about you? What's been happening
in King's Landing?"

Her expression grew sour, her hands drawing back and forming fists. "Well,"
she sighed. "Your father wasn't making himself anything but enemies in
King's Landing, if only because he was too honourable for his own good.
Unfortunately he went snooping and discovered the same thing as Jon Arryn;
that Joffrey was a bastard born of my mother and her twin." he blinked,
shocked, but Yelena continued on. "That truth... got him executed. When he
was taken into custody I chose to stand for Sansa. I was likely her last chance
at staying safe in that... place."

"You stood for Sansa?"

She smiled a little. "I couldn't very well leave her to Joffrey, could I?" but her
expression quickly became serious again. "Joffrey forbade me from carrying
weapons, though, which made things a bit trickier. My mother allowed him
to do so many atrocious things..." she shook her head. "It got a little better
when my Uncle Tyrion came back. He served as Hand of the King until his
father returned and took the position. Joffrey was poisoned, allowing Sansa to
escape, but my mother blamed Tyrion so of course I had to get him out
before leaving. And then the brigands..." she chuckled. "It's quite the story."

He smiled. "Sounds like it. What about this?" he reached out, gently tracing a
finger across the scar on her cheek.

She grinned. "Courtesy of Joffrey. Jealous little twat. I gave him a matching
one." he shook his head in amusement. Of course she did. "But, it seems
like you've had your own harrowing adventures, Lord Commander."
Jon laughed. "Well, I suppose as Lord Commander, I should show you to
your room. I assume you'll want to rest. I can come get you when the
meeting is set to start, but there's something you should see first."

He stood, offering his arm, and she took it with a little smile. "What
meeting?"

He spoke as they began walking. "I assume too many men know by now that
'Princess Yelena Baratheon' is here. It's best we make sure they're all very
clear on the matter of not alerting the crown to your presence."

She looked up at him. "Thank you, Jon. You have no idea how grateful I am
for this."

The Lord Commander chuckled. "Well, I suppose it's the least I can do."
When they finally reached the doors of the pen, he stepped over to the latch,
smiling at Yelena. "You ready?"

Though she still looked confused, she nodded. As soon as the latch lifted the
door burst open, and Yelena was knocked to the ground. She heard hushed
growling and panting, and all she could see was black fur. "Lishay!" The joy
in her tone made Jon smile. She pushed herself upright despite the direwolf
trying to clamber on top of her, throwing her arms around Lishay's neck and
burying her face in the fur. "Oh, I missed you girl! I'm sorry I sent you away,
but Joffrey was going to kill you."

"Your uncle had her sent up here to be released north of the Wall." Jon told
her. "We did, but she came back with Ghost. He'd been wandering around out
there for a while." she looked up at him. "They always go off and come back
together."

After a moment, the princess stood, brushing herself off, and he noticed for
the first time the bloody slash in the skirt of her dress. He shook his head.
There would be plenty of time to talk about these things later. "Shall we go?"
she smiled.

Jon nodded. "I'd like you to keep Lishay with you at all times. Some of the
men here aren't to be trusted, and I'd feel better if-"
Just then, he was interrupted by Olly as the young boy rushed towards them.
"Lord Commander, it's one of the wildlings you brought back! Says he knows
your Uncle Benjen! Says he's still alive."

Jon's eyes went wide. "Are you sure he was talking about Benjen??"

"Said he's first ranger said he knows where to find him."

Jon turned to Yelena. "Take Lishay to my room and stay there. I'll come get
you." Then he turned, striding quickly out. Yelena had come back to him, and
now he might get Benjen back. Maybe there was hope yet...

**Yelena POV**

Yelena felt as though something was wrong as soon as Jon left, unease
churning in her stomach. So, after putting Lishay back in the pen, she quickly
followed his footsteps in the moonlight, her boots crunching gently in the
snow as she went. She felt her unease growing until she finally rounded the
corner, her heart stopping at the treasonous sight.

Jon stood before several men of the Watch, shock written upon his face,
blood spilling between his fingers as he clutched his stomach. Ser Alliser
stood before him, the dagger in his hand already wet with red. A different
brother stepped forward, shoving his dagger in too, and a horrid scream full
of fear and fury tore from her throat. All heads turned towards her as she
charged through the snow, throwing the brother away with surprising
strength. When she turned to Jon though, all she could see was the look in his
eyes as he whispered her name, begging her to go.

She grabbed his hands, pressing them against his stomach as she shook her
head, her eyes full of fear. "I'm not leaving you." she whirled towards the
men, putting herself between them and Jon, shielding him. She wished in that
moment that she had her sword. She'd cut down every one of them with ease,
but it was still on the horse they'd taken for her when she rode in. And it was
more than just that; she hadn't slept properly since leaving King's Landing,
and barely more than a few hours in a week since the brigands. She was hurt,
and drained, and weaponless, but she ignored Jon's futile attempts to push her
out of the way as Alliser stepped forward.
As the bigger man drove the dagger towards her, she snatched his wrist,
twisting it away and delivering a quick blow to his face, but it proved
pointless as his other hand closed around her throat, lifting her slightly off the
ground. She tried to push it off, but he only snickered. "You should have
stayed away, princess. It's a shame you don't have your sword. I'd looked
forward to beating you by blades before I died." he shrugged. "Doesn't matter
now, does it? You're just as hot-headed as your father."

Jon reached for her desperately, the blood loss getting to him quicker now.
"Leave her... please... let... her go..."

Alliser ignored him, bringing the already-red-stained dagger up to touch just

over her heart. "And just as stupid." he sneered. "Nothing but a useless
Baratheon whore." He applied a little pressure, piercing her skin and making
a small trickle of blood trail down her dress, ignoring Jon's weakening pleas.
"Everyone already thinks you're dead and nobody's sending word of your
arrival. No one will ever know." He leaned closer, eyes narrowed. "Say hello
to your father for me."

Yelena's eyes flew wide, and a strangled gasp escaped her lips before she felt
her breath stop in her lungs. Jon's cry faded in her ears. The strength left her
body, and her eyelids began to flutter with exhaustion, Alliser's dagger and
hand around her throat being the only things holding her up. When he yanked
it out, she crumpled, and by the time she hit the ground, she was gone, blood
pooling out around her.

**Jon POV**

Jon watched her still, pale face in horror, her unbreathing chest, not even
feeling the final dagger - Olly's dagger - pierce his heart. The last thing he
knew was that he was on the ground beside her, the world around slowly
disappearing into the dark.

A/N
Imagine if I just ended the story here? XD *cackles in evil mastermind*
 cẦaẮtez nineteen ~ not gone ặet

THE DARKNESS WAS COLD AND HEAVY, dragging him down deeper
and deeper. Soon, he would disappear entirely. He would truly be gone. And
then the fire came. It burned across his vision, wrapping it's hot tendrils
around him and yanking him from the shadows.

Jon woke with a gasp, finding himself lying on a cold table. He blinked
once, twice, three times. He was alive? How could he possibly be alive? He
looked down across his bare torso at the gashes left by daggers, feeling fear
wash over him as he sat upright. He must be dead. But then something warm
and furry pressed against his hand. He looked down to find Ghost nuzzling
him happily. The air rushed from his mouth. Somehow, he was alive. But
what about-

The door burst open,Ser Davos once again interrupting his thoughts, though it
was a very welcome interruption this time. The Onion Knight looked just as
shocked as Jon felt. "She really did it." he muttered.

"What happened?" Jon's voice was hoarse.

Davos sighed. "We found you dead in the snow, clutching onto the princess.
They did a number on you both. I convinced the Red Woman to bring you
back."

"Where is she? Where's Yelena?" Davos nodded at something behind Jon,

and he turned to see her lying on a table, clad in only a linen nightgown,
Lishay standing protectively by her side. A bandage was wrapped over her
chest, but there was very clearly too much blood. Her breathing was ragged
and struggling, making his heart stutter as he moved to her side. "Why? Why
isn't she..."

"Because she never died." Jon whirled to see the Red Woman standing in the
doorway. "Alliser missed her heart. He came very near, but he missed it.
Yelena never died, so you were my priority, and now..." she looked down.
"The princess is dying. I cannot save her. I haven't the strength to call on such
power again."

Hours later, Jon still sat by her side, dressed now. He gripped her hand
gently, recounting aloud some of his favourite times with her at Winterfell,
his stomach flipping with fear whenever she shivered, or when her breathing
rattled a little too hard. He noticed some other scars too; a jagged one across
her left, upper arm looked to be sloppily cut, likely made by someone who
wasn't trained. He recalled what she'd said about Joffrey not allowing her to
carry weapons, his anger rising when he realised how hard it would have
made it to fend off even untrained attackers. There was a newer one on her
right thigh that looked to be just healing. This one was a cleaner cut, but a
dirty, unorthodox move. Probably the brigands, he thought.

"It's not right." he whispered to her. "It's not right that I'm well and you're
dying. It shouldn't be like this. You should have gone to the room." his voice
cracked. "Gods, why couldn't you just listen to me? Please come back. I
can't- I just got you back, I can't lose you again."

Two days passed before Edd and Davos made Jon go back to his chambers to
sleep. He fought them, fearing Yelena would die while he was gone, but
eventually gave in. "You can't do anything about it, even if you stay here."
Edd told him sadly. "But she'd want you to take care of yourself."

When Jon returned, he froze in the doorway, not quite ready to believe what
he saw, for fear that it might dissolve before his very eyes. But there she was.
She still wasn't conscious, but colour had returned to her features, her breaths
deep and easy, and where the bandage had been, he now saw a new scar. His
eyes flashed to the corner. The Red Woman.

"It would seem the Lord of Light has heard your pleas..." she smiled. "And
answered." she swept out the door, leaving him staring at Yelena again. Sure
there was some blood, but other than that, he could almost imagine she was
only sleeping.

He rushed to her side, grasping her hand, which was warm now. He laughed
quietly, amazement and relief flooding him. "Yelena... it's alright now. You're
alright."

He suddenly felt her hand grip his in return, a gasp escaping her lips as her
eyes flew open and she shot upright on the table. Her other hand moved to
her chest, as though she wasn't sure she was really breathing. "Jon..." she
murmured. "What..." she tried to stand, but her legs crumpled beneath her,
Jon catching her before she hit the floor. He sat in one of the chairs, pulling
her closer as she shook, whether from shock or the cold, he wasn't sure. He
was just happy to have her back. "What happened?"

"I died." he told her simply. "And you nearly did. It was the Red Woman that
brought us back." Jon slipped his cloak from her shoulders, wrapping it
around her trembling form instead.

"Those brothers..."

"Aye, we'll deal with them." he looked down at her. "I thought you were
gone. I could have sworn I watched you stop breathing..."

She sighed, a small humorless laugh escaping with it. "You might have. It
was a habit I fell into back at King's Landing; whenever Joffrey did
something truly cruel that I couldn't stop, I'd hold my breath. Sometimes I
didn't know I was still holding it until it hurt."

He shook his head, smiling. "We're alright now. We're back together."

She nodded, a small grin making its way to her lips. "Don't shut me out this
time?"

He held her tighter. "Yelena I swear, I'll never leave you again. Never."

The princess looked up, and in that moment they both seemed to decide that
Jon was no longer held to his vows. He'd died for the Night's Watch once
already. He wasn't doing it again. He leaned down as she pushed herself up,
their lips meeting, and nothing had ever felt more perfect than the way she
curved into him, the way they held onto one another for dear life. It was like
a piece of him had been missing all these years, a piece he'd feared might
never have been restored, and now here he sat, holding her again. And he
didn't plan on letting go this time. When they pulled back, she leaned into his
chest, gently closing her eyes. "I love you, Jon Snow."

He smiled, pressing another kiss to the top of her head. "I love you too,
princess."

**Yelena POV**

Yelena stood in the room Jon had given her, right beside his. She was dressed
in something pretty close to her old gear but better intended for the cold,
along with the fur cloak she'd had when she first arrived, the one she'd kept
since that night in a courtyard of Winterfell. Her sword and dagger were
fastened to her belt, her wolf pendant bumping gently on her collarbone. She
felt strong. Stronger than she had for a long time now. Lishay padded up
beside her, bumping her head gently against Yelena's leg.

She laughed softly, kneeling to hug the direwolf. "It's good to have you back
girl." When she stood, the two made their way to the door. Jon had already
made the announcement that no one was to inform anyone of Yelena's arrival,
but now she had an execution to attend.

She stood before the platform where the traitors prepared to be hung in
silence, her hand in Lishay's fur. She could hear the whispers of the men
speaking about her; a woman who carried a sword. A Baratheon who
commanded a direwolf. A woman in the north. She supposed they were
justified in their curiosity. But she hoped for their own good that they kept
their hands to themselves. Her eyes slid over to the wildling beside her,
Tormund. She was fairly certain from how close he'd kept that Jon had asked
him to watch her.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Jon came out of his chambers, stalking
down the steps and up onto the platform. Yelena felt a little relief at how
easily he moved. He must have healed as quickly as she did. He stood silently
before them for a moment before speaking. "If you have any last words, now
is the time."

"You shouldn't be alive." one of the four blurted shakily. "Neither of you. It's
not right."
Jon stared up at him a second. "Neither was trying to kill us."

"My mother's still living at White Harbor." the next said. "Could you write to
her? Tell her I died fighting the wildlings." Yelena clenched her jaw.
Coward.

But Jon only moved on to Ser Alliser, who sighed. "I had a choice, Lord
Commander. Betray you, or betray the Night's Watch. The girl was only
collateral damage. You brought an army of wildlings into our lands. An army
of murderers and raiders. If I had to do it all over, knowing where I'd end up,
I pray I'd make the right choice again."

"I'm sure you would, Ser Alliser." Jon told him.

"I fought, I lost." he nodded. "Now I rest. But you, Lord Snow, you'll be
fighting their battles forever."

Yelena's breath held instinctively in her lungs as Jon moved to the young
boy, Olly, who only glared down at him, refusing to speak. Jon drew his
sword, approaching the rope that kept these men alive. He hesitated for a
long moment, before slicing through, hanging all four. Yelena squeezed her
eyes shut as Olly writhed, her mind flashing back to the royal wedding. Her
heart pounded as the choking here and now merged with the one ringing
through her memories. Her face relaxed slightly as the sounds stopped,
slowly opening her eyes.

"We should burn the bodies." Edd told Jon.

"You should." Jon said softly. Yelena felt her heart rise as he slid the black
cloak from his shoulders, handing it over to his friend. His vows tied him to
the watch until he died, but he had died for them.

"What do you want me to do with this?"

"Wear it. Burn it. Whatever you want." Jon gave a nod. "You have Castle
Black." He made his way back down the steps. "My watch has ended." he
walked straight towards Yelena, putting an arm around her shoulder to gently
lead her away. She gladly obliged, more than ready to get away from another
pair of the staring blue eyes of a dead boy.

A couple hours later she waited in the courtyard with Lishay, Ghost and her
horse, her sword had been fastened to the saddle with her dagger in a
saddlebag, and yet with her wolf at her side again, she still felt safe. She
stood in confusion when they announced riders approaching. Her heart
pounded as all her paranoid thoughts resurfaced. What if her mother had
heard she was here somehow? What if she'd come for her? But they all
disappeared when the gates opened to reveal Brienne of Tarth, her uncle's
squire Podrick, and a beautiful redheaded young lady.

"Sansa?" The girl's head turned towards the princess as her horse came to a
halt inside the gates.

Her eyes widened as she slid off her horse. "Yelena? What...?"

Cutting her off, Yelena rushed forward, pulling her into a tight hug. "Oh my
gods... I didn't know if I'd see you again... I can't believe you're here!" She
pulled back, smiling softly at her friend. "You're growing up too fast."

Sansa's eyes seemed to draw to something behind her, and when Yelena
looked back, she saw Jon standing at the rail outside his chambers, looking
down at them in shock. Slowly, he descended towards them, and Yelena
backed away a step, giving them a moment. When they stood right before one
another, they hesitated, then threw themselves forward into an embrace, and
Yelena smiled. It was good to have some of her family back together.

Later, while the two sat together in the hall, Yelena decided to make use of
her time, practising with her sword. She paused when she realised there were
onlookers. A slight smile appeared on her face. "Anyone want to get some
practise in?" Pretty soon she was training with several of the brothers,
correcting their positioning, their strikes, their blocks, and yet still winning
every time. She wasn't sure how long it went on; all she knew was how
amazing it felt to do something she was good at again.

Only a day later, she sat in the Hall with Jon, Sansa, Tormund, Brienne,
Pocdrick and Edd when a letter was delivered with the Bolton seal. Yelena
sat forward a bit with a frown. This couldn't be good.
He sighed, and began reading it aloud. "To the traitor and bastard Jon Snow.
You allowed thousands of wildlings past the wall. You have betrayed your
own kind. You have betrayed the North. Winterfell is mine, bastard, come
and see. Your brother Rickon is in my dungeon." Yelena sucked in a sharp
breath. She remembered the last time she'd seen the boy, promising to bring
him back a gift from King's Landing. Her hand reached for her pocket. She'd
found him a little carving of a chimera years ago. She'd been carrying it
around a long time. Jon continued, clearly shaken. "His direwolf's skin is on
my floor. Come and see. I want my bride back. Send her to me, bastard, and I
will not trouble you or your wildling lovers. Keep her from me and I will ride
north and slaughter every wildling man, woman and babe living under your
protection. You will watch as I skin them living." his voice shook a bit.
"You..."

"Go on." Sansa told him softly.

"It's just more of the same." he insisted, letting it roll shut.

Yelena's expression grew hard, and she snatched up the paper herself. "You
will watch as my soldiers take turns raping your sister, as I add your princess
to my spoils of war." her teeth clenched, her own voice trembling ever so
slightly. "You will watch as my dogs devour your wild little brother." she
sucked in a breath as she skimmed over the next bit. "Then I will spoon your
eyes from their sockets and let my dogs do the rest. Come and see. Ramsay,
Lord of Winterfell... and Warden of the North." She let the letter slip from
her fingers onto the table, not seeing Jon's look of concern as her rage began
to boil.

"Yelena," she finally looked up at him.

"How did he know I was here?" she wondered aloud, half wondering if he
had spies.

"You know I won't let him touch either of you." he told her softly.

She leaned back in her chair, shaking her head. "It's fine. It's not the first time
I've kept us from that fate." Her hand moved to the old scar on her upper-
arm, remembering the day Myrcella had been sent off to Dorne.
"Lord of Winterfell?" Podrick pointed out.

Sansa nodded. "His father's dead. Ramsay killed him." she bit her lip. "And
now he has Rickon."

"We don't know that." Jon tried to reason.

"Yes we do." the girl's voice shook with the threat of tears. "He controls the
spies now. It's how he knew about Yelena."

"How many men does he have in his army?" Tormund asked.

Sansa's expression turned to one of apology and helplessness. "I heard him
say five thousand... once when he was talking about Stannis's attack."

Jon turned to his wildling friend. "How many do you have?"

"That can march and fight?" Tormund clarified. "Two thousand. The rest of
them are children and old people."

Jon looked to Yelena. "You're the son of the last true Warden of the North."
she told him. "Northern families are loyal, they'll fight for you if you ask."

Sansa grabbed his hand when he hesitated. "A monster has taken our home
and our brother. We have to go back to Winterfell and save them both."

Finally, he nodded. It seemed Winterfell would be seeing battle again soon.

 cẦaẮtez tœentặ ~ tẦe stag anд tẦe
6eaz

AFTER SO LONG NOT BEING ABLE TO PRACTISE, it was a dream

to fall back into her old habits with the sword and bow. Sometimes, much to
Jon's concern, she'd spar with the men. And every time she prevailed, the scar
on her chest a reminder of the one time she hadn't; something she'd never let
happen again.

A few days later, she sat around a map with the others.

"We can't defend the North from the Walkers and the South from the
Boltons." Jon was saying. "If we want to survive, we'll need Winterfell and to
take Winterfell, we need more men."

Yelena sighed. "Aside from the Starks and the Boltons, the most powerful
families in the north are the Umbers, the Karstarks, and the Manderlys. The
Umbers and the Karstarks have already declared for house Bolton. No
surprise there."

Sansa glared bitterly at the pieces on the map. "The Umbers gave Rickon to
our enemies. They can hang. But the Karstarks declared for Ramsay
without knowing they had another choice."

"Begging you pardon, my lady," Davos pointed out. "But they know a Stark
beheaded their father. I don't think we can count on them either."

The redhead frowned. "How well do you know the North, Ser Davos?"

"Precious little, my lady."

She nodded. "My father always said Northerners are different. More loyal.
More suspicious of outsiders."
"They may well be loyal," he pointed out. "But how many rose up against the
Boltons when they betrayed your family?" he sighed. "I may not know the
North, but I know men. They're more or less the same in any corner of the
world and even the bravest of them don't want to see their wives and children
skinned for a lost cause."

Yelena studied the map carefully. "If Jon's going to convince them to fight
alongside him, they need to believe it's a fight they can win." she bit her lip.
"There are other houses in the North too; Glover, Mormont, Cerwyn, Mazin,
Hornwood. Two dozen more." She looked up at Jon, who seemed to
understand what she was saying.

"Together they equal all the others." he nodded. "We can start small and
build."

"The North Remembers." Sansa said. "They remember the Stark name.
People will still risk everything for it from White Harbor to Ramsay's own
door."

"I don't doubt it." Davos said softly, as though measuring his words carefully.
"But Jon doesn't have the Stark name."

"No but I do. And there's another name they remember too. Yelena's father
and mine ended the reign of the Mad King. If they hear that a Stark and a
Baratheon are working together again, it'll give them hope."

Yelena's lips twitched with a smile. "Let's just try not to crown me queen of
the Seven Kingdoms while we're at it." her expression became serious again
as her eyes refocused on the map. "Besides, Jon is every bit as much Ned
Stark's son as Ramsay is Roose Bolton's."

Davos frowned in confusion. "Wasn't he given the Bolton name?"

"By a child king whose bastard blood revokes his right to the throne." when
she caught the shocked looks sent her way, she shrugged. "I love my brother,
but he is my mother's bastard. He has no Baratheon blood."

Sansa nodded. "There's also the Tullys. They're not northern, but they'll back
us without question."

The Onion Knight raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know the Tullys still had an
army."

"My uncle, the Blackfish, has reformed it and retaken Riverrun."

"How do you know that?" Jon frowned.

"Ramsay received a raven before I escaped Winterfell." Yelena's eyes

narrowed when she saw Sansa's fidgeting, but there were bigger things to
worry about.

"That's good." Davos nodded. "The Blackfish is a legend. His support would
mean a great deal."

Yelena cocked an eyebrow as her gaze drifted over the house pieces. "Stark,
Tully, a few more houses. Almost starts to look like a winning side."

Soon enough, they were saddling up, getting ready to leave. She missed
Dawn, but the wild stallion she'd ridden to Castle Black was the fastest horse
she'd ever discovered, and he was just as good. Yelena hoisted herself up
onto the saddle, whistling for Lishay, who trotted over happily. She couldn't
help but notice how much larger the wolf had grown over the years, a force
to be reckoned with for certain. She stayed by Jon's side as they rode out,
smiling when their eyes met. Time to call the banners... and take back their
home.

***

It took them long enough, but they made it to the wildling encampment to
speak with the one leading affairs now. But he wasn't exactly pleased
with their request.

"We said we'd fight with you, King Crow, when the time comes and we
meant it, but this isn't what we agreed to. These aren't white walkers. This
isn't an army of the dead. This isn't our fight."

"If it weren't for him, none of us would be here." Tormund reminded him.
"All of you would be meat in the Night King's army. And I'd be a pile of
charred bones just like Mance."

The other man nodded, but there was no sincerity in it. Only annoyance.
"Remember Mance's camp? It stretched all the way to the horizon. And look
at us now. Look what's left of us. And if we lose this, we're gone. Dozens of
tribes, hundreds of generations. Be like we were never there at all. We'll be
the last of the free folk."

Yelena stepped forward, looking to Jon. he nodded, indicating for her to go

ahead. "What would happen to you if you tried to fight the walkers alone?"
she asked, directing her attention to the leader.

He frowned at Tormund. "Who's this?"

He shrugged. "Some kind of princess."

The leader glared at her. "Is some little princess threatening to withdraw the
support we were promised?"

Yelena only shook her head. "I'm no princess anymore. But if Ramsay Bolton
kills us, who will stand by your side when the white walkers come? You'll
have no more allies, only the enemy living in Winterfell, and if he doesn't kill
all of you, the Night King will claim the rest."

"I know this isn't the deal we made." Jon told him. "You're right, this isn't
your fight. I shouldn't be asking you. But Ramsay knows you're here and he
knows more than half of you are women and children. He will come after
you. And once he's gotten rid of us, there'll be nothing between him and
you."

Tormund nodded. "The Crows killed him," he told them. "Because he spoke
for the free folk when no other southerners would. They almost killed her too.
He died for us. If we are not willing to do the same for him, we're cowards."
He raised his eyebrows. "And if that's what we are, we deserve to be the last
of the free folk."

The giant stood then, making Yelena blink, slight shock rippling through her
at his sheer formidable height. Jon grabbed her hand out of sight of the
others, tugging her gently back to his side in case any sudden moves were
made.

"Snow." the giant said finally. It was only one word, but the meaning was
clear; his allegiance lay with Jon, who nodded in gratitude.

After quickly and silently consulting the others around him, the leader strode
forward until he stood directly before Jon. After a second, he offered his
hand. Jon shook, giving him a small grateful smile. When they left, he
looked to Tormund. "Are you sure they'll come?"

The ginger chuckled. "We're not clever, like you southerners. When we say
we'll do something, we do it."

When the wildling turned to leave, Jon let out a small sigh, and Yelena
squeezed his hand. "We can do this." she whispered just loud enough for him
to hear.

**Jon POV**

Next they went to Bear Island to talk with Lyanna Mormont. In the Hall,
there she sat; a very tough-looking girl of ten surrounded by her advisors.
Jon hoped dearly they could convince her to help them. With Sansa on his
right and Yelena and Davos on his left, he gave a little bow. "Lady
Mormont."

"Welcome to Bear Island." she told them.

Silence followed, but Sansa filled it. "I remember when you were born, my
lady." she smiled gently. "You were named for my Aunt Lyanna. It was said
she was a great beauty. I'm sure you will be too."

"I doubt it." her voice was sharp, commanding. Jon supposed it was all too
well that she was in charge. "My mother wasn't a great beauty, or any other
kind of beauty. She was a great warrior though. She died fighting for your
brother, Robb."

Sansa was clearly at a loss for words, so Jon spoke now. "I served under your
uncle at Castle Black, Lady Lyanna. He was also a great warrior and an
honourable man. I was his steward, in fact-"

"I think we've had enough small talk. Why are you here?"

He let out an uncertain breath before speaking again. "Stannis Baratheon

garrisoned at Castle Black before he marched on Winterfell and was
killed. He showed me the letter you wrote to him when he petitioned for
men. It said-"

"I remember what it said." she snapped. "Bear Island knows no king but the
King in the North, whose name is Stark."

Jon hesitated. "Robb is gone... but House Stark is not. And it needs your
support now more than ever. I've come with my sister to ask for House
Mormont's allegiance."

Lyanna turned to one of her advisors, who whispered in her ear. When she
turned back, her eyebrows were raised. "As far as I know, you're a Snow, and
Lady Sansa is a Bolton." she frowned. "Or is she a Lannister? I've heard
conflicting reports."

Sansa did not look happy. "I did what I had to do to survive, my lady." her
voice was hard. "But I am a Stark. I will always be a Stark."

"If you say so. In any case, you don't just want my allegiance, you want my
fighting men."

Jon could feel his hesitation slipping slowly into impatience, though he tried
not to show it. "Ramsay Bolton cannot be allowed to keep Winterfell, my
lady. It is our duty to stop him. Even more so because he holds our brother
Rickon Stark as prisoner." He took a breath, trying to remember that he was
speaking to both a lady, and a ten year old girl. "What you have to
understand, my lady, is that-"

"I understand that I'm responsible for Bear Island and all who live here. So
why should I sacrifice one more Mormont life for someone else's war?"

Jon was at a loss for words. He knew he was failing, but his head snapped
around to watch Yelena as she began speaking. "My lady, do you know who I
am?"

She nodded. "Yelena Baratheon. A southern princess."

A small smile crossed Yelena's face. "Not much of a princess anymore, I'm
afraid. Nor was I ever much of a southern one. I've spent half my life in the
north. I love it in a way I could never love the south. But do you know how I
came to be who I am?" when Lyanna motioned for her to continue, she did
while Jon watched with curiosity. What was she up to? "All girls are
expected to grow up to be ladies, but it is far more important for a girl who
grows up a princess. I never wanted to be a lady. I wanted to be a warrior.
My father, you see, he let me have all I could ever want. He didn't care if I
sang or laughed, if I danced or if I fought. But there were many who did.
People who scorned me, teased me, tormented me. Some of them were even
my own family." she looked down, and Jon knew she must be thinking of
Joffrey. "I may have had everything a lady could want, but as a warrior I had
to rise up, not only from nothing, but from less than nothing, for that is what
people expect when a girl picks up a sword. You and I both had lives of
immense responsibility shoved onto us, a lot of which we certainly didn't
want. We're both the warriors the world wanted to snuff out, but I chose to
pick up my blade and keep fighting. Through the snickering, through the
nastiness." Jon smiled at her as he watched Lyanna's face change, become
softer. He'd never understand how she could shred men where they stood,
and yet gently raise a young girl up to a place of understanding and peace.
"You can keep fighting too. Ramsay doesn't believe a girl can rule Bear
Island, certainly not a young girl. Will you submit to his scorn, or will you
cut clean through it? Because soon enough this will be our war. Not a war
between a few squabbling houses, but between the living and the dead. Jeor
Mormont understood that and he chose Jon as his successor. Jon Snow is a
leader, and as much Ned Stark's son as Robb was. And if we won't stand with
him, then maybe those people were right about us all along. Maybe we aren't
meant for this. Because make no mistake, my lady, the dead are coming, and
it is far bigger than a few unimaginative lords."

Lyanna breathed deeply as her eyes settled back onto Jon. "Is this true?"

He nodded, eternally grateful to his princess. "Your uncle fought them at the
Fist of the First Men. I fought them at Hardhome. We both lost."

"As long as the Boltons hold Winterfell, the North is divided." Davos told
her. "And a divided North won't stand a chance against the Night King."

"You want to protect your people." Yelena said softly. "I understand. But
there's no running from this, nor should there be." her lips twitched, her eyes
holding a challenge. It was the look Jon remembered seeing a thousand times
when she was scheming a game or prank with someone who actually
understood her. "Show the world you can stand strong. We have to fight, and
we need to do it together."

This time, when her Maester leaned over to whisper to her, Lyanna waved
him off. Finally she spoke. "House Mormont has kept faith with House Stark
for a thousand years. We will not break faith today." she looked to Yelena
who smiled, giving a single nod.

Jon stepped forward, vowing to thank Yelena later. She'd helped him gain the
allegiance with the wildlings, and done it entirely on her own with Lady
Lyanna. He wasn't sure where he'd be without her. "Thank you, my lady.
How many fighting men can we expect?"

She leaned over to confer quietly with the man on her right for a moment
before facing them once more. "Sixty two."

Jon hesitated. "Sixty two?"

"We are not a large house, but we're a proud one. And every man from Bear
Island fights with the strength of ten mainlanders."

Yelena inclined her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. "If they're half as
ferocious as their lady, the Boltons are doomed." and Lyanna smiled ever so
slightly.
 cẦaẮtez tœentặ-one ~ sleeẮ œell

**Yelena POV**

THE FOUR RODE BACK INTO CAMP, having secured more men, and
plotting where to go next.

"Stannis camped here on his way to Winterfell." Davos told them.

Sansa frowned. "And that's a good thing?"

"He was the most experienced commander in Westeros." he informed her.

"He chose this place for a reason; those mountains are a natural fortification,
there's a stream down there for the horses."

"It didn't save him." Yelena murmured. "Or Shireen."

"We're not staying here long." Jon interceded. "Another storm could hit any
day."

"Aye," Davos said. "The snows defeated Stannis as much as the Boltons did."

They came to a halt, dismounting, and Yelena gave her steed a little pat as
Jon continued. "We have to march on Winterfell now while we still can."

Davos frowned. "Two thousand wildlings, two hundred Hornwoods, one

hundred and forty three Mazins..."

"Sixty two Mormonts." Sansa added.

Yelena sighed. "It's not what we'd hoped for, but we still have a chance if
we're careful and smart."

A fight began to take hold behind them, drawing their attention. "Oh, for
fuck's sake." Davos huffed irritatedly, striding off to put a stop to it.

"So he's your most trusted advisor now?" Sansa asked as they turned to
continue on. Her tone wasn't exactly approval.

"Ser Davos is the reason Yelena and I are standing here talking to you and he
served Stannis for years. Still, I trust Yelena just as much." the princess
smiled at that.

Still, Sansa didn't seem pleased. "Stannis, who lost the Blackwater, who
murdered his own brother, who doesn't have a head?" She stopped. "It's not
enough. We need more men!"

Yelena watched guardedly as Jon turned to face his sister. She'd never seen
the two fight before, though she was prepared to step in if necessary. None of
this would work if they weren't all on the same page.

"There's no time." Jon told his sister impatiently.

"If we went down to Castle Cerwyn, I know that Lord-"

"We fight with the army we have." he insisted, his voice firm and
unswerving.

Yelena looked back to see that the fight had escalated. Growling a few un-
ladylike words under her breath, she stormed off towards it. "HEY!" she
snapped loudly. The men all stopped and glared, but she wasn't the slightest
bit deterred. "That's enough! Unless you all want to end up dead meat, we
need to fight the enemy, not each other!"

"Who the fuck are you to order me?" one demanded, striding towards her.

"That's not your concern. Don't you all have things to do besides acting like a
bunch of angry cats? There's still a battle to be won!"

"ANGRY CATS?" he roared. "Why you-" He took a swing at her, but a hand
caught his arm before yanking him back into the mud. Jon.

He glared at the lot of them. "Back to work, and enough of your squabbling!
The next person that tries to lay a hand on Lady Yelena faces
punishment!" They muttered some, but all began to pick themselves up to
return to work. He turned towards her, eyebrows furrowed. "Are you
alright?"

She smiled softly. "I could have handled it, you know."

He returned the smile, his eyes brightening a bit. "Oh, I know. But you
shouldn't have to. They needed to know you're not to be touched."

Her stomach fluttered a little, and she laced her fingers through his. "Come
on. Let's walk a bit, clear our heads."

They walked along in silence to the edge of camp, their hands interlocked all
the way. They stood overlooking the lands stretching out before them,
breathing the cool northern air. Yelena leaned into Jon's side, both of them
just taking comfort in the presence of the other.

"I wrote to you," she murmured suddenly. "Sometimes. When I felt more
alone than usual." Jon looked down at her softly. "While I was in King's
Landing..." she shook her head. "They all went into the fire. I thought you
wouldn't want to hear from me."

He chuckled softly. "I did the same."

She smiled, her eyes fluttering shut. "Sometimes I wish I could go back to the
day we left Winterfell... I want to see the girl I was. I want to tell her not to
go. I want to warn her..."

Jon hugged her a little closer. "We'll get Winterfell back. We'll start over."

"I hope you're right. But in case you're not..." Yelena's head tilted up and she
lifted herself onto her toes to kiss him. Their mouths moved perfectly on one
another, sending warm sparks throughout her body as his arms wrapped
around her.

When they drew back, he nodded, his expression pure earnest. "I'm right."

***
The next day they rode out to try to speak and reason with Ramsay, though
Yelena had a feeling it was pointless. She watched with a cool gaze as his
little party approached on their horses.

"You don't have to be here." Jon told Sansa. "Actually, after that threat," his
gaze turned to Yelena as well. "I'd feel better if neither of you were."

The princess only sighed. "If Ramsay has underestimated me, that's his own
problem." they all looked back to the envoy as they came to a halt before
them. The first thing Yelena noticed was how unnerving Ramsay's smile was.

"My beloved wife." he smirked. "I've missed you terribly." His gaze turned to
Jon. "Thank you for returning Lady Bolton safely. Now, dismount and kneel
before me, surrender your army and proclaim me the true Lord of Winterfell
and Warden of the North. I will pardon you for deserting the Night's Watch. I
will pardon these treasonous lords for betraying my house, and the princess
will be safely returned to her mother." Yelena's jaw clenched. She would
never go back there again. She'd worked too hard to get away. "Come,
bastard, you don't have the men, you don't have the horses," he laughed a bit.
"And you don't have Winterfell. Why lead those poor souls into slaughter?
There's no need for a battle. Get off your horse... and kneel." his smile
returned again ever so slightly. "I am a man of mercy."

A moment of silence passed before Jon spoke. "You're right," he told him.
"There's no need for a battle. Thousands of men don't need to die. Only one
of us." Ramsay's expression became slightly uncomfortable, but it
disappeared quickly. "Let's end this the old way. you ... against me." Yelena
blinked at Jon. she understood what he was doing, she just wished he'd told
her he was planning this.

Ramsay laughed. "I keep hearing stories about you, bastard. The way people
in the North talk about you, you're the greatest swordsman who ever
walked. Maybe you are that good." he shrugged. "Maybe not. I don't know
if I'd beat you. But I know that my army will beat yours. I have six thousand
men. You have, what, half that?" he cocked a brow. "Not even?"

"Aye, you have the numbers." Jon smiled a bit, irony in his eyes. "Will
your men want to fight for you when they hear you wouldn't fight for
them?"
Ramsay's expression turned sour, but it melted quickly back into a rather
unhinged looking smile as he chuckled, pointing to Jon. "He's good. Very
good." his face went cold. "Tell me, will you let your little brother die
because you're too proud to surrender?"

Yelena finally spoke, her voice hard as stone. "How do we know you have
him?" Ramsay raised a brow before indicating to one of his men, who threw
something at their feet. Yelena sucked in a breath. The head of Rickon's
direwolf.

"Now, if you want to save-"

"You're going to die tomorrow, Lord Bolton." Sansa told him plainly. "Sleep
well." she turned her horse then, and rode off.

Ramsay smiled. "She's a fine woman, your sister. I look forward to having
her back in my bed." Yelena's hands gripped the reins tighter as she tried to
control her urge to lunge forward and cut his throat. "And you're all fine
looking men! My dogs are desperate to meet you." he laughed. "I haven't fed
them for seven days and they're ravenous." he tilted his head at Yelena.
"Though I suppose we'll have to spare the princess. I hear she's to be married
off to Pyke. I wonder what will become of her there."

"I will not be sold like some whore." she hissed. "Not by you, and not by the
crown. Sansa was right, my lord. Sleep well." She turned her steed, shooting
a fiery glare back over her shoulder and urging the horse on. "Hiyah!" her
heart raced with fury and anticipation as she felt the familiar rush of air
around her.

Back in the main tent, she sat glaring at their map until Jon walked in. She
didn't look up, and therefore didn't see his concerned look, but it didn't
matter.

"He's unhinged." she said simply. "So was Joffrey. Unfortunately, I doubt we
can poison this one." her mind drifted back to the bet she'd made so long
ago, and wished she'd thought to challenge him to it.

Jon nodded. "If he was smart, he'd stay inside the walls of Winterfell and wait
us out."

Davos shook his head. "That's not his way. He knows the North is watching.
If the other houses sense weakness on his part, they'll stop fearing him."

Yelena looked up at the Onion Knight. "And as we've seen, fear is his power.
He can't have that."

Jon sighed. "It's his weakness too. His men don't want to fight for him, they're
forced to fight for him. If they feel the tide turning..."

"It's not his men that worry me." Tormund spoke up. "It's his horses. I know
what mounted knights can do to us." he looked at Davos, and Yelena
remembered Jon telling her how Stannis's army had taken on the wildlings.
"You and Stannis cut through us like piss through snow."

"We're digging trenches all along our flanks." Jon told him. "They won't be
able to hit us the way that Stannis hit you; in a double envelopment."
Tormund gave him an irritated look that said he had no idea what that meant.
Jon blinked. "A pincer move." Tormund kept staring.

Yelena huffed an annoyed breath at their antics. "They can't hit us from both
sides and crush us."

The wildling nodded, finally understanding. "Good."

Davos looked back to the map. "It's crucial that we let them charge at us.
They've got the numbers, we need the patience. If we let them buckle
our center, he'll pursue. And we'll have him surrounded on three sides."

"Did you really think that cunt would fight you man-to-man?"
Tormund asked.

Yelena's lips twitched. "Of course he didn't. Jon's smarter than that. But it
sure as hell pissed him off."

Jon nodded, smiling a bit. "Exactly. I want him coming at us full tilt."

Finally, Davos nodded. "We should all get some sleep."

One by one, they all filed out until only Yelena, Jon and Sansa were left. The
princess shot Jon a rueful smile as he sat with an exhausted sigh. She placed a
comforting hand on his shoulder. "Get some sleep." she murmured. And then
she left too, walking out into the brisk night air to think some more.

Yelena sat on a little hill, looking out towards Winterfell. It always seemed to
be one impossible task after the next. First she had to protect Sansa. Then she
had to escape, had to survive, she had to find Jon... now she'd done it... she'd
found him, and she might lose him again trying to reclaim Winterfell. She
sighed, tensing when she felt something brush against her back. When she
turned, she saw two direwolves, one black as night, one white as snow. A
smile crossed her lips. "Lishay. Ghost." they both padded closer, snuggling in
on both sides, and she smiled as she leaned into the warm fur. "I love you
two." she murmured. As the darkness settled fully over the world, her finger
grazed over the vial in her belt that she'd stolen before leaving the capital.
Essence of Nightshade. Yelena had no idea who would win tomorrow's
battle, but she knew she would never return to King's Landing alive.
 cẦaẮtez tœentặ-tœo ~ ting in tẦe
noztẦ

this chapter is VERY long

**Jon POV**

THE NEXT MORNING JON SAT ASTRIDE HIS HORSE, Yelena at his
side amongst their army, everyone tense. As he waited, his mind wandered
back to the events that passed earlier that day.

She was up already when Jon appeared at the entrance to her tent. "May I
come in?"

She turned, giving him a soft smile that sent his stomach into loops as she
finished fastening on her forearm plating. "Of course."

His eyes wandered from the simple plait in her hair down to the tip of the
sword at her belt before returning to her eyes. Part of him still couldn't
believe he had her back, that she wanted him back still, after all this time. "I
don't know what's going to happen today," he said softly. "But you'll be
careful won't you? Try not to get killed?"

She chuckled. "That's always been the plan. But if I'm not allowed to die, then
neither are you."

He shook his head as he looked down, trying not to smile. "I'm being serious-
"

"So am I." she stepped swiftly forward, reaching out to grasp his hands and
forcing him to meet her eyes again. His heart pounded. "I had to live without
you once. I don't want to do it again."
As he looked at her, he felt as though he was slowly slipping away into a
maddening sort of never ending love that would have him killing and dying
for her. Just the thought that she could be taken from him today scared him
shitless. "Gods, I love you." and then his mouth was back on hers again, his
hands cupping her face and he felt her sink into him, her own hands pulling
him in by his coat, her mouth sliding perfectly along his. When their lips
separated, their eyes remained closed, foreheads pressed together. "You
know I won't let Ramsay send you back there. You won't be sold off to King's
Landing or Pyke now or ever. I promise."

This time, her smile was sad. "I know."

Thinking about it now, Jon was slightly worried; something about her
response just didn't feel right. When he looked over, he saw her finger rest
gently on something in her belt. It was only for a second, but he could see the
vial now. He tensed slightly. Poison. He shook his head, silently promising
himself that she would never have to use it.

Across a field studded with burning crosses, they could see Bolton's army,
but no Ramsay. And then they did see him. He rode slowly up through the
ranks, not in any sort of hurry, a bow and quiver strapped across his back. On
Jon's left, Yelena's fingers brushed over her own bow and quiver strapped
onto her saddle. When he finally reached the front, Jon felt his heart stutter.
Bound by rope he tugged along another form behind him. Rickon. He drew a
dagger, and Jon dismounted, striding forwards in fear, having no idea what
to do. And then Ramsay cut the rope. His fear turned to confusion as the
Bolton said something to Rickon. And the boy started running. Ramsay
pulled out his bow, and Jon finally understood what was happening. He ran
back to his horse as Ramsay drew the first arrow. "Hiyah! Hiyah!" He had to
reach his brother first.

A voice came from behind him. "Hiyah!" Yelena. Of course she'd follow;
Rickon was like family to her too. But he couldn't focus on that, couldn't
focus on anything but getting to his little brother before Ramsay shot him
down.

The first arrow missed by a long shot. As did the second. The third came
closer. The fourth looked perfectly aimed, but he heard the sound of another
arrow firing behind him, and it was suddenly shattered midair. Yelena. She'd
intercepted his arrow with her own. And then the fifth pierced straight
through Rickon's heart. Jon's blood seemed to freeze in his veins and he heard
an enraged scream from behind him. He could see Yelena hit the ground in a
roll, stopping right at the boy's side, pressing a desperate hand over where his
heartbeat would have been. But none of that seemed to matter now; he'd only
ever seen one person he cared about so fatally pierced before, but he'd been
dying at the time too. He'd assumed that's where the numbness had come
from. But now he felt it again.

His glare turned up to Ramsay, but the numbness dissolved when he saw the
archers preparing to fire. "Yelena!" she understood immediately, leaping
back onto her saddle and both of them charging forwards, hoping to get past
the arrows. The first wave missed them, but the second did not. Both horses
went down, Jon and Yelena both tumbling to the ground. Only seconds later
he felt a grip on his arm, helping him to his feet. When he looked up, he
could see the cavalry charging.

"This is a shit way to die." Yelena grumbled as she unsheathed her sword. He
found himself almost wanting to smile at that, following in drawing his own
blade. There had never been a dull moment with her before. He should never
have expected one now. The horses were almost on them when their own
cavalry charged in past them, meeting the opposition at full speed. Yelena's
sword found its way quickly back into its sheath as chaos spread around
them. Jon watched her draw her dagger, jumping onto the back of a Bolton
horse and cutting down the enemy upon it before drawing her sword once
more and charging into the fray. Jon quickly lost sight of her, more arrows
raining down. But he had his own men to fight if he wanted to find her again
when this was all over. More than once he could hear her shouts in the mix
of all the others, assuring him that she was still alive. More arrows came
down. More men fell. The battle went on. It became men fighting men atop
piles of dead men. But eventually it didn't matter. The force of infantry came
charging in, and they were surrounded by shields and spears, their last
defendable side being a wall of the dead. They marched inwards just a bit,
taking out the outer ring of their force. Jon's hope plunged. They were going
to be picked off, little at a time until there was no one left. Again, they took
out the new outer ring. And again. And then the last of Ramsay's soldiers
came charging over that wall of dead. And so the fighting continued.
Wildlings charged to break the wall of shields while the rest fought off the
new force. Everything was looking so horribly hopeless... and then the horns
echoed through the fields. As everyone looked, the banners of the veil flew
through the air as they charged in on horseback. A whole army of them under
Petyr Baelish and Sansa Stark. They broke through Ramsay's lines like wet
parchment, freeing what was left of Jon's army from their encirclement.
Through the carnage he caught sight of Ramsay, completely unscathed atop
his steed. Tormund and the giant came to his side. Time to end this. As
Ramsay retreated, the three of them rushed forwards. He would not reclaim
that castle again.

What they didn't know was that someone was already ahead of them, waiting
for the perfect moment to strike.

The giant crashed against the closed gate again and again and again, until
finally it broke open, but it was over for the large man. He was full of arrows,
and Ramsay's own bolt pierced his skull, finishing it. The wildlings rushed in
behind Jon and Tormund, finishing off the last of the Bolton forces. At last it
was only the two bastards facing one another.

Ramsay's brow arched. "You suggested one-on-one combat, didn't you?" he

nocked an arrow. "I've reconsidered that offer." loose. Jon was sure it would
strike true, but once more, it was shattered midair. He looked around for his
savior, his eyes catching on a figure atop the wall. Yelena jumped down,
hitting the ground in a crouch. When she stood again, Jon's heart pounded at
the sight. She was covered in blood and dirt and bruises, a jagged tear down
one sleeve, but she was alive.

A grin split her face. "Alright Ramsay Bolton. One on one. Pick your best
man."

He blinked, his surprise quickly transforming to a snort. "And I suppose

you'll fight him?" Her only response was to drop her bow and unsheathe her
sword. "Very well then. Plank!" A man three times the size of the princess
stepped forward.

Jon moved to her side, stopping her with a hand on her shoulder. "Yelena,
you can't-"

"I'll be fine." she whispered reassuringly. "Please Jon. My family took

Winterfell from yours. Now let me give it back."

He hesitated, imagining all the things that could possibly go wrong, but then
he surprised even himself, stepping away with a nod. "Don't die."

She smiled, her expression becoming more of a nasty sneer when she stepped
towards Ramsay's fighter.

"Have fun." Ramsay smirked. The first time Plank struck, he missed by an
inch as Yelena dodged. Again and again as he slowly tired, and Jon almost
smiled at her genius. "Fight him you coward!" That sent his hopes
plummeting. Yelena was smart, but she could be hot headed too, and Ramsay
was goading her.

"Coward?!" she snapped. "Fine then!" The next time the man struck, she met
him with full force. Steel and valyrian steel rang out as they fought for
ground. With a roar, she slashed against his blade, sending him stumbling
back. She was a blur of movement as Plank tried to use his size to
compensate for her dexterity. Block, parry, block, parry, strike, strike. She
dodged and whirled as Plank continued to swing. Finally, she lunged
forward, her blade plunging into his gut, and the beast fell. "You know, it's a
shame people always bet on the bigger man." Jon watched her back away
with wide eyes as she resheathed her blade. And then he saw the arrow.

"Yelena!" the warning registered in the nick of time as she dropped to a

crouch, the blade a mere hair away from her as it sailed past its target and
lodged itself in Jon's shield.

She exhaled sharply, her eyes glued disbelievingly to the arrow that almost
killed her. Jon stepped forward, pulling her safely back to his side.

"Take him." They both looked up to find Sansa standing in the archway, the
Knights of the Veil moving forward, taking Ramsay's bow and hauling him
away as he hissed and spat in anger. The battle was won. Every last Bolton
banner was cut down, replaced with a direwolf once more.
Soon, a stretcher was brought in, carrying Rickon. They looked down at him
for a long moment before Yelena reached into her pocket and pulled out a
small carving; a chimera? She placed it gently in Rickon's hand, her voice a
whisper. "I promised I'd bring you back a present, didn't I?"

"We'll bury him in the crypt." Jon said finally. "Next to father."

***

Hours later, when night had fallen, Jon found himself at the door to Yelena's
room. They'd each taken back their own from before they ever left. Before he
could think better of it, he knocked.

"Come in!" when he pushed open the door, he found her sitting on her bed.
The blood and dirt had been washed away, leaving only a large bruise high
up on her cheek and she was looking down at her hands clutched in her lap.
She looked up with a small smile. "So, how does it feel to have Winterfell
back?"

He sat next to her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face while being
careful not to touch the bruise. "Not nearly as good as knowing you're not
dead for it. When I didn't see you I was worried Ramsay might have-"

"Ramsay's a twat." She took his hand gently. "I've dealt with twats before."

He chuckled, pressing his forehead lightly to hers. "Don't scare me like that
again."

"I'll try."

**Yelena POV**

"Princess!"

Yelena, walking through the courtyard, turned at the sound of Davos's voice.
"Ser Davos, how can I help you?" she frowned at the look on his face. "Is
something wrong?"

He let out a breath. "There's something you need to know. It's about the Lady
Melisandre."

***

Yelena stormed into the hall with Davos on her heels to find Jon talking with
the Red Woman. "You." she hissed.

When she turned in surprise, Davos tossed her the little carving. She paled in
realisation while Yelena's chest heaved with rage.

"What is that?" Jon asked.

"Tell him." Davos growled. "Tell him who it belonged to."

"The Princess Shireen." her voice was soft.

"Now tell him what you did to her." Yelena's voice was dark. "Tell him!"

Her voice shook when she spoke next. "We burned her at the stake."

"Why?" Davos demanded.

"The army was trapped." She sounded desperate. "The horses were dying. It
was the only way."

"You burned a little girl at the stake!" Yelena cried furiously. "You murdered
my little cousin!"

"I only do what my Lord commands!"

It was Davos who spoke again this time. "If your Lord commands you to burn
children, your Lord is evil!"

The Red Woman took a shaky breath. "We are standing here because of
him." her eyes turned to the princess. "Both you and Jon Snow are alive
because the Lord willed it."

"I loved that girl like she was my own." Though the Onion Knight was still
furious, he sounded close to tears now. "She was good, she was kind, and you
killed her!"

"So did her father. So did her mother."

"And they're both dead now." Yelena's voice was cold. "You had them
all fooled, had them all believing that killing a child was the right thing
to do and you lied."

"I didn't lie!" she shook her head. "I was wrong."

"Aye," Davos told her. "You were wrong. How many died because you were
wrong?" he huffed a breath. "I ask your leave to execute this woman for
murder. She admits to the crime."

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Jon asked hushedly, his
expression restrained distrust.

"I've been ready to die for many years." she said simply, her voice soft. "If
the Lord was done with me, so be it, but he's not. You've seen the Night
King, Jon Snow. You know the great war is still to come. You know the
army of the dead will be upon us soon. And you know I can help you win
that war."

He was silent for a long moment. "Ride south today." he told her finally. "If
you return to the North, I'll have you hanged as a murderer."

Her eyes were sad as she set down the stag carving on the long table. As she
began to walk away, it was Yelena who stepped in her path. "If you ever
come back," she growled softly. "I will kill you myself and burn you like you
burned her." When she moved away, Lady Melisandre left, her head low.
The princess stepped forward, her hand gently brushing over the carving.
"I'm sorry." she whispered.

***

Long after the Lady Melisandre was gone, Yelena sat at Ser Davos's side as
she looked out over the people who filled the Hall. They were Jon and
Sansa's people now, she supposed.
"You can't expect Knights of the Vale to side with wildling invaders!" Lord
Royce loudly protested.

"We didn't invade." Tomund's voice was irritated, as though he was sick of
explaining this. "We were invited."

"Not by me." he declared.

Jon stood. "The free folk, the northerners, and the Knights of the Vale fought
bravely, fought together and we won. My father used to say we find our true
friends on the battlefield." Yelena's lips twitched slightly as she thought back
to Plank, the way an unmovable object had crumbled by the power of an
unstoppable force.

Another man stood in protest. "The Boltons are defeated! The war is over!
Winter has come. If the Maesters are right, it'll be the coldest one in a
thousand years. We should ride home and wait out the coming storms."

Yelena gave him an even look. "Tell me, ser, do you know what lies beyond
the wall at this very moment?" as it had always done in the past, the
princess's voice carried the authority of ten kings, commanding the attention
of all who filled the room. He opened his mouth, but she continued on. "No.
You don't. You've never been to the Wall, never been beyond it, never seen
the things that march on it as we speak. Jon Snow is the only one in this
room who understands the danger we still face."

Jon shook his head. "The war is not over. And I promise you, friend, the true
enemy won't wait out the storm. He brings the storm."

Voices filled the room once more, until Lady Lyanna stood to speak. "Your
son was butchered at the Red Wedding, Lord Manderly, but you refused the
call. You swore allegiance to House Stark, Lord Glover, but in their hour of
greatest need, you refused the call. And you, Lord Cerwyn, your father was
skinned alive by Ramsay Bolton. Still you refused the call." she looked out
over them all, and Yelena found herself smiling once again at the girl's
toughness, her bravery. "But House Mormont remembers! The North
remembers! We know no king but the King in the North whose name is
Stark!" She looked to Jon. "I don't care if he's a bastard. Ned Stark's blood
runs through his veins. He's my king, from this day until his last day!" Jon
looked at her in shock as she sat.

Lord Manderly was the next to rise. "Lady Mormont speaks harshly... and
truly. My son died for Robb Stark, the Young Wolf. I didn't think we'd find
another king in my lifetime." He looked up to the head table. "I didn't commit
my men to your cause 'cause I didn't want more Manderlys dying for nothing.
But I was wrong. Jon Snow avenged the Red Wedding! He is the White
Wolf!" he drew his sword, kneeling. "The King in the North!"

Then Lord Glover. "I did not fight beside you on the field and I will regret
that until my dying day. A man can only admit when he was wrong and ask
forgiveness."

Jon shook his head, his eyes speaking the volumes of disbelief that this was
actually happening that he felt. "There's nothing to forgive, my lord."

"There will be more fights to come." Lord Glover looked out over the hall.
"House Glover will stand behind House Stark as we have for a thousand
years! And I will stand behind Jon Snow..." He drew his sword, kneeling.
"The King in the North!"

Every man in the Hall followed suit, raising their swords as they stood. "The
King in the North! The King in the North!"

Davos and Yelena rose with them. "The King in the North!" her eyes alit with
a grin when they caught on Jon's.

"The King in the North! The King in the North!" He rose amongst the
cheering, still looking a little shocked, but also something far beyond
grateful. And strong. "The King in the North! The King in the North! The
King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North! The King
in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North!"
cẦaẮtez tœentặ-tẦzee ~ 6azatẦeon
6annezs

LATER ON IN THE SAME NIGHT, Yelena rifled through some scrolls

the Bolton Lords had received, looking for any news she'd missed from
King's Landing. The first couple she found weren't of any particular interest,
aside form one that spoke of the death of Prince Oberyn. Apparently Cersei
had turned her assassins on him when she could not find her brother. He was
dead, a though that saddened her. But one from longer ago caught her
attention too. It said something about Dorne. She leaned forward in her
seated position on her bed as she read it, her eyes lighting up a little when
she saw her sister's name, but it took only seconds for her light heart to
shatter.
Her eyes stared blankly at the words Long Farewell poison and regrettable
death, pooling with tears. One slipped down her cheek as she thought of the
last time she'd seen her little sister, so small in that boat that would take her
off to a Dornish ship, crying as she was separated from her family. She
remembered the way she'd hugged her tight, promising to visit one day. She
felt even worse thinking of the Lion pendant she'd left behind in King's
Landing. It matched not only her mother's, but her sister's too. She'd
abandoned that last little piece of her, thinking that it didn't matter as long as
Myrcella was alive and happy. So she sat there, silent tears tracing lines on
her face as she clung to her memories of her baby sister who suffered and
died. She didn't hear the knock on her door, or Sansa's voice calling through,
becoming more concerned every time she didn't hear an answer. She didn't
hear the knocks that came shortly after, or Jon's voice asking her to please
open the door. She barely registered the sound of the door opening, his boots
crossing the floor or his arms circling around her. All she felt was sadness
and guilt. And rage. Another person she cared about, dead because of Cersei.

***

Myrcella was gone. Just as so many others. And just like the rest of them,
Yelena accepted the truth, and moved along. Her sister was at peace now.
The time for revenge would come someday. For now, she sat by Jon Snow's
side in the Hall as he gave out his orders.

"I want every northern maester to scour their records for any mention of
dragonglass. Dragonglass kills white walkers. It's more valuable to us now
than gold. We need to find it, we need to mine it, we need to make weapons
from it." Yelena's fingers rested on the hilt of her own dragonglass dagger as
he spoke, wondering why her father had chosen this particular material all
those years ago. "Everyone aged ten to sixty will drill daily with spears,
pikes, bow and arrow."

"It's about time we taught these boys of summer how to fight." one of the
lords smirked. That brought chuckles, but Jon had other ideas.

"Not just the boys." he told them. Yelena bit back a smile as she realised
what he was saying. "We can't defend the North if only half the population is
fighting.

"You expect me to put a spear in my granddaughter's hand?" the lord who'd

spoken before asked coldly.

"Tywin Lannister did." Yelena snapped. "And it created one of the best
warriors you've got."

Lady Lyanna rose, nodding. "I don't plan on knitting by the fire while men
fight for me." he gave him a hard look. "I might be small, Lord Glover, and I
might be a girl, but I am every bit as much a Northerner as you."

"Indeed you are my lady, and I don't mean to-"

"And I don't need your permission to defend the North." her eyes met
Yelena's who nodded, a small, but proud smile on her face. Lyanna looked to
Jon next. "We will begin training every man, woman, boy and girl on Bear
Island."

"Aye." The men all pitched in their agreements.

"While we're preparing to attack, we need to shore up our defenses." Jon
continued. "The only thing standing between us and the Army of the Dead is
the Wall, and the Wall hasn't been properly manned in centuries. I'm not the
king of the Free Folk." his gaze turned to Tormund. "But if we're gonna
survive this winter together..."

The tall ginger stood. "You want us to man the castles for you?"

"Aye." Jon told him. "Last time we saw the Night King was at Hardhome.
The closest castle to Hardhome is Eastwatch-by-the-Sea."

Tormund nodded. "Then that's where I'll go." Yelena smiled a little. She'd
forged something of a friendship with the wildling man since the Battle of the
Bastards. She'd probably miss his bluntness that rivalled hers. He grinned at
Lord Glover. "Looks like we're the Night's Watch now."

"If they breach the Wall," Jon spoke above the murmurs. "The first two
castles in their path are Last Hearth and Karhold."

The Vale Lord rose in protest. "The Umbers and the Karstarks betrayed the
North! Their castles should be torn down with not a stone left standing."

"The castles committed no crimes." Sansa interjected from Jon's other side.
"And we need every fortress we have for the war to come. We should give
the Last Hearth and Karhold to new families, loyal families who supported
us against Ramsay." a quiet chorus of agreement rippled through the room.

"The Umbers and the Karstarks have fought beside the Starks for centuries."
Jon said. "They've kept faith for generation after generation."

"And then they broke faith."

He looked at his sister. "I'm not gonna strip these families of their ancestral
homes because of the crimes of a few reckless sons."

"So there's no punishment for treason and no reward for loyalty?" Yelena
frowned at Sansa's continued interjection, hoping it wouldn't cause a splitting
of the other houses' loyalties for Jon or Sansa.
"The punishment for treason is death." He told her, his voice growing
slightly impatient and disapproving of her public protesting. "Smalljon
Umber died on the field of battle. Harold Karstark died on the field of battle."

"They died fighting for Ramsay." she insisted. "Give the castles to the
families of the men who died fighting for you." Murmurs rose though the
room, and a small sigh escaped Yelena's lips. This could certainly be going
better.

Jon looked back out over the room. "When I was Lord Commander of the
Night's Watch... I executed men who betrayed me." Yelena's hand moved to
the scar on her chest. "I executed men who refused to follow orders. My
father always said, 'the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword'
and I have tried to live by those words... but I will not punish a son for his
father's sins, and I will not take a family home away from a family it has
belonged to for centuries." His voice was firm, commanding, his eyes
moving to his sister. "That is my decision, and my decision is final." Sansa
sighed, sitting back. "Ned Umber." Jon called. A young boy came forward,
one who looked younger even than Lyanna. "Alys Karstark." a girl of
perhaps eleven or twelve joined, both of them moving to the front when Jon
beckoned. "For centuries, our families fought side by side on the battlefield. I
ask you to pledge your loyalty once again to House Stark, to serve as our
bannermen, and come to our aid whenever called upon." They both drew
their swords, kneeling. "Stand." they did. "Yesterday's wars don't matter
[Link] North needs to band together, all the living North. Will you
stand beside me, Ned and Alys, now and always?"

"Now and always!" they spoke in unison. Those in the hall cheered, and
Yelena gave the children a gentle smile and nod, bringing them smiles too.

Later, after all had been adjourned, Jon met Yelena in the corridors, the two
of them walking out side by side to oversee operations. "Do you think I
was wrong?"

She looked over at him. "About Last Hearth and Karhold?" she shook her
head. "I'm not going to lie to you and say that Sansa was wrong about
rewarding those who fought for you rather than against you, but a few foolish
heirs do not merit the stripping of homes and titles. Take my two houses for
example; House Lannister has been a cruel and miserable house for a long
time. Their name means nothing to me and to many others for it, but the
Baratheon name is not disgraced because one man was a drunk and foolish
king."

He smiled a bit. "You're perfect, you know that?"

She blinked. "What, because I agree with you?"

Jon shook his head. "Because you won't lie to me when you don't. Your
honesty - no matter how brutal - is far more helpful to me than someone who
wants to grovel for their high position."

She laughed a little at that. "Well then you're welcome. You're good at this.
At ruling."

He looked down. "I'm not-"

"You said it yourself; if it wasn't true, I wouldn't be saying it."

He chuckled. "I guess I did."

Not much later, after Sansa had joined them, the Maester brought a scroll
from King's Landing.

"Cersei of House Lannister, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the
First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms..." Jon read aloud. He stopped,
looking at Yelena, whose eyes held a mix of fury, shock and despair.

"She really did it." Her voice was a whisper. "Tommen... he's dead." The
thought pulled her heart even lower, her voice cracking slightly. "She's killed
the last of my blood. My father, Joffrey, Myrcella, Tommen..." she squeezed
her eyes shut, biting her lip hard as Jon placed a hand on her shoulder. "What
does she want?"

He sighed. "'Come to King's Landing. Bend the knee or suffer the fate of all
traitors.'"

Sansa shook her head. "You've been so consumed with the enemy to the
north you've forgotten about the one in the south."

He gave her a look. "I'm consumed with the Night King because I've seen
him. And believe me, you'd think of little else if you had too."

Yelena looked up at him. "I'll call my banners."

Jon frowned. "What?"

"House Baratheon has many loyal bannermen. The last person able to even
claim they have that blood is gone. There's no one to contest my claim to
their allegiance. I'll summon them north. They think I'm dead, but they've
known my signature since my father died. If they still have any regard for
their vows, they'll come. And they can bring supplies with them."

"But won't she discover you're alive if one of them betrays you?" Sansa
questioned.

"Oh to hells with that." Yelena muttered. "Let her find out. With winter on
the way, it's far from likely that she'll send any forces after me. She'll try
to be clever, and that I can handle easy enough."

So with Jon's blessing, she did. She sent out letters to every house sworn to
her, signed and stamped with the Baratheon seal. To the Dondarrions, the
Conningtons, the Selmys, the Swanns, the Estermonts. And with every raven
that left Winterfell, she prayed she was making the right choice, that maybe,
just maybe, they'd answer her call.

***

Days later, Yelena stood once again with Jon, Sansa and Davos. Jon had
received a letter from her Uncle Tyrion, who was apparently now the Hand of
Queen Daenerys Targaryen. She bit her lip as Sansa read it.

"You think it's really Tyrion?" she asked her brother. "It could be
someone trying to lure you into a trap."

He sighed. "Read the last bit."

"All dwarves are bastards in their father's eyes. What does that mean?"

"It's something he said to me the first night we met." Jon said.

Yelena's expression became confused. "When did you-" she stopped as she
realised. "The night we... He spoke to you after I was gone?"

He nodded. "You know him better than any of us. What do you think?"

She sighed. "Tyrion's not like the other Lannisters. He was the only one to
help me protect Sansa. The only one to help me at all, actually, after my
father died."

Sansa frowned. "Didn't Varys help you too?"

"Yes, but I never entirely trusted Varys. He's unpredictable, as are his
loyalties. Tyrion was the one I trusted..." she sighed, regret filling every piece
of her at what she was about to say. "But it's too great a risk." She took the
letter. "'The Seven Kingdoms will bleed as long as Cersei sits on the Iron
Throne. Join us. Together we can end her tyranny.' He's right about that first
part, but..." she trailed off, not sure how to finish.

Davos took the letter next, looking down at it studiously. "Sounds like
a charmer. Of course, the casual mention of a Dothraki horde, a legion
of Unsullied and three dragons... a bit less charming." he hesitated.

"What?" Jon asked.

"Fire kills wights, you told me. What breathes fire?" Yelena arched a brow at
the Knight's point.

"You're not suggesting Jon meet with her?" Sansa demanded.

"No," Davos shook his head. "Too dangerous."

Jon turned to him. "But?"

"But if the Army of the Dead makes it past the Wall, do we have enough men
to fight them."
Yelena sighed. "We might if my bannermen come, but we can't rely on that
possibility until I have responses, and even then, it may not be enough."

Jon nodded. "Well, keep watching for those ravens... I may need to consider
your uncle's offer." When Yelena's eyes travelled back down to the courtyard,
she wondered if Tyrion even knew she was alive.

***

Yelena sat in her room, sharpening blades when she heard flapping and
cawing at her window. Her head snapped up and she rushed to open it, the
bird landing swiftly on her arm. She scratched it gently under the chin before
taking the letter from its leg. Her heart jumped when she saw the Swann seal.
She hurried to her desk, unrolling it.

To Yelena of House Baratheon and House Lannister, firstborn to King

Robert, Princess of Westeros, Heir to the Iron Throne, Call of the Wolf,
Defiant of Death,

We are glad to hear of your survival. The Swanns have followed the
Baratheons into battle for generations. With your brothers gone, our loyalty
lies with you, and will continue to. Let it be known that the Swanns never
failed to answer the call of a Baratheon. We come to your aid with our men
and supplies, taking our leave in seven days' time. Winter has come, and we
will band together through it.

Lord Aldrin Swann

A smile split Yelena's face as she read. House Swann was coming. Her
bannermen coming to her aid. The idea was rather intimidating, but she knew
she could do it. She'd learned well from Robert, from Tywin and from Jamie.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. "Yes?"

"It's me." she relaxed at the sound of Jon's voice.

"Come in." He came in bearing a letter with the sigil of the Citadel. "What's
that?"
"Do you remember the brother of the Night's Watch I told you about? Sam?"
she nodded. "This is from him. He found proof of dragonglass beneath
Dragonstone. And a lot of it."

She blinked, thinking for a moment. "So you're accepting the invitation?"

He nodded. "I have to. We can't turn down this chance. Will you come with
me?"

The princess smiled. "Do you really have to ask? Of course I'll come
with you." she remembered then, the letter in her hand, lifting it. "This is
from Lord Aldrin of House Swann. They will answer the call."

Jon's brows shot up. "That's good."

She nodded. "They've agreed to bring men and supplies." she paused. "Who
are you leaving in charge? They'll need to be prepared for Swann's arrival,
and Lord Aldrin will need to be prepared for the fact that I likely won't be
here when he arrives."

"Sansa. I'm leaving Sansa in charge. We can tell her at the Hall."

"Well then what are we waiting for?"

After writing a quick response warning Lord Aldrin about her absence and
sending it off, she made her way down to the Hall with Jon. Soon, it was full
again of the northern Lords.

He wasted no time telling them what was going on. "This message was sent
to me by Samwell Tarly. He was my brother at the Night's Watch, a man I
trust as much as anyone in this world. He's discovered proof that Dragonstone
sits on a mountain of dragonglass." He pulled out the next scroll. "I received
this a few days ago... from Dragonstone. It was sent to me by Tyrion
Lannister." Murmurs filled the hall to the brim. "He is now Hand of the
Queen to Daenerys Targaryen. She intends to take the throne from Cersei
Lannister. She has a powerful army at her back and, if this message is to be
believed... three dragons." more murmuring ensued, louder this time. "Lord
Tyrion has invited me to Dragonstone to meet with Daenerys. And I'm going
to accept." This time there were no murmurs, it was shouting. "We need this
dragonglass, my lords! We know that dragonglass can destroy both white
walkers and their army! We need to mine it and turn it into weapons! But
more importantly, we need allies!" he sighed. "Princess Yelena has called the
Baratheon bannermen who may still be loyal to her. House Swann has been
the first to accept... but the Night King's army grows larger by the day. We
can't defeat them on our own. We don't have the numbers. Daenerys has her
own army, and she has dragonfire. I need to try and persuade her to fight with
us. Princess Yelena, Ser Davos and I will ride for White Harbor tomorrow,
then sail for Dragonstone."

"Have you forgotten what happened to our grandfather?" Sansa demanded

finally. "The Mad King invited him to King's Landing and roasted him alive."

"My little brother murdered your father. My mother and grandfather

murdered your brother." Yelena pointed out. "My entire family has been
responsible for more atrocities to the North than anyone in recorded history.
Do you trust me?" Sansa was quiet. "I do not judge people by their family
name. You judge me by Call of the Wolf, not by Lannister or Baratheon.
And just so, the Dragon Queen should be judged by Breaker of Chains rather
than Targaryen."

Sansa shook her head. "Even so, she's come to reclaim the Seven Kingdoms
and the North is one of those Seven! This isn't an invitation, it's a trap."

"It could be." Jon told her. "But I don't believe Tyrion would do that. You
know him, he's a good man."

Lord Glover rose. "Your Grace, with respect, your brother called himself
king. And then he rode south and lost his kingdom."

Lady Lyanna stood next. "Winter is here, Your Grace. We need the King in
the North in the North."

Jon looked around at them. "You all crowned me your king. I never wanted
it. I never asked for it. But I accepted it because the North is my home. It's
part of me and I will never stop fighting for it, no matter the odds... but the
odds are against us." he sighed. "None of you have seen the Army of the
Dead, none of you. We can never hope to defeat them alone. We need allies,
powerful allies." he looked back to his sister. "I know it's a risk. But I have to
take it."

She stood. "Then send an emissary, don't go yourself."

"Daenerys is a queen. Only a king can convince her to help us. It has to be
me."

"You're abandoning your people! You're abandoning your home!"

He shook his head. "I'm leaving them both in good hands."

"Whose?" she demanded.

"Yours." Sansa looked slightly shocked. "You are my sister. You're the only
Stark in Winterfell." he nodded. "Until I return, the North is yours."
 cẦaẮtez tœentặ-fouz ~ long
fazeœell

THERE WASN'T MUCH YELENA NEEDED TO PACK. She wasn't

very sentimental anymore, needing only her weapons, a Baratheon stamp in
case she needed to send a raven, and the pendant around her throat. So it
didn't take very long for her to find herself in the courtyard, stroking behind
Lishay's soft ears as she said goodbye. Unfortunately, she'd lost her wild
stallion in the Battle of the Bastards, so now she pulled herself up into the
saddle atop a dark brown mare, who seemed ready to run. She appreciated
the enthusiasm.

Jon finally stormed out of the crypt, looking slightly murderous, and Yelena
gave him a concerned look. He only shook his head; talk about it later. The
both of them gave Sansa little waves, before urging their horses forward and
out of the gates. Yelena just hoped she'd come back this time.

The trip to white harbor wasn't particularly eventful, but getting there was a
different story. As they led their horses through the crowds, Yelena tensed at
the sound of a voice behind her. "Well, well, if it isn't the pretty princess."
she whipped around to see a familiar and very unwelcome face. "It's been
some time."

"You." She growled.

He smirked. "Me."

"Yelena?" she didn't turn when she heard Jon's voice, didn't dare take her
eyes off the man before her. He'd almost certainly stab her in the back, given
the chance. "Who's this?"

"Don't know." she said darkly. "He never bothered to introduce himself
before trying to murder me. Thought you might know better than to come
close again after what I did to your friends."

He chuckled. "Oh, my manners. I'm Alaric. But I don't believe you've

introduced your brooding friend yet."

"Jon Snow." Jon responded, his voice full of caution and confusion.
"Yelena..."

"He's a brigand." she told him. "One of six."

"The last one." he amended. "I hoped to propose a rematch."

Jon stepped forward. "Absolutely not-"

"How about a bet?"

Both men turned to look at her. "A bet you say?" Alaric asked thoughtfully.

She gave a little nod. "I have a single vial of Long Farewell. We both drink
half. First to die is the winner. The winner gets the cure."

"So my reward is your death, and your reward is?"

"Your blade." she smirked down at his scimitar. "I've always wanted to try
one of those."

Jon looked at her like she was crazy. "You can't poison yourself Yelena!"

She grabbed his arm, tugging him aside. "Look," she muttered. "I've done it
before, it's no big deal. Besides, you can't tell me you'd pass up a chance to
get rid of someone who tried to kill you for the crown." he still looked
hesitant, but she forced him to meet her eyes. "I promise you, I will win." he
still looked very uncertain and worried, but he nodded. She grinned as she
turned back. "Alright then Alaric. Got any wine?"

***

The princess sat on the railing of the ship as she twirled her new weapon in
her hand. Alaric had lasted a while - she'd expected nothing less of a skilled
brigand - but eventually her teal moss won out and he collapsed and died.

"You never told me you were immune to poison." she looked up at Jon with a
little smile.

"I'm not." She showed him the necklace. "It's filled with Skulking
Stickweed."

He laughed. "Of course it is. What else did I expect?"

She set the blade gently on the deck, hopping off the railing and moving to
his side. "Nothing less, I hope, from your princess."

He took her hand, twirling her once as he smiled. "Never."

She took a deep breath as she settled into his side, taking in the scent of the
sea air. She smiled a little as she remembered her sister. Myrcella always
loved the open water. And she would have loved to see dragons. Tommen
would too. She sighed. "Do you ever wish we could go back to when things
were simpler? When our biggest problems were that a princess loved a
bastard?"

He chuckled. "Do you still love me? Even as a king?"

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't love you because it was forbidden, you idiot. I
love you because you're sweet and charming and you have a good heart."

"Weren't you the charming one?"

Yelena smiled. "I guess I was."

***

When the princess first saw dragonstone, her first thought was wondering
why Stannis had picked it as a base. He'd never been one for extravagance.
Then again, he tried to take the throne, so perhaps she never really knew him
at all. They rowed carefully to shore through the waves until they reached the
beach where several Dothraki and Unsullied waited for them. Despite being
unnerved by the odds should a fight start, she was impressed at her first
glance of the men from across the sea. Alongside Jon and Ser Davos, she
approached Her Uncle and a woman she didn't recognise standing amidst the
soldiers.

Tyrion's face grew shocked at the sight of his niece. "Yelena?? I thought
you were-"

"Dead?" she smiled. "Not quite so easily, Uncle. It's good to see you."

"And you, dear niece." his eyes turned to Jon. "the bastard of Winterfell."

"The dwarf of Casterly Rock." After a moment of unnerving silence, both

men smiled, stepping forward to shake hands.

"I believe we last saw each other atop the wall." Tyrion said.

"You were pissing off the edge if I remember right." Jon replied. Yelena
snorted at that. Of course he had been. "Picked up some scars along the
road."

"It's been a long road. But we're both still here." his gaze moved to Ser Davos
next. "I'm Tyrion Lannister."

"Davos Seaworth."

"Ah, the Onion Knight. We fought on opposite sides at the Battle of

Blackwater Bay."

"Unluckily for me." Davos looked questioningly at the woman by Tyrion's

side.

"Missandei is the queen's most trusted advisor." he told them.

She nodded, giving a small smile. "Welcome to [Link] queen

knows it is a long journey. She appreciates the efforts you have made on her
behalf." she seemed to hesitate for a short second before continuing. "If you
wouldn't mind handing over your weapons."
Jon looked around a moment before nodding. "Of course."

As she unstrapped her sword belt and pulled a long knife from her boot, she
was eternally grateful for her habit of keeping her dragonglass dagger in her
sleeve. No matter how much she trusted her uncle, she wouldn't risk being
caught unarmed in a fight. She also decided to keep the vial of Essence of
Nightshade hidden; she knew all too well how Daenerys would likely feel
about a Baratheon. She was not risking being sent back to her mother out of
spite. As she watched, several Dothraki also took their boat, making a small
spark of anxiety light in her stomach. She brushed it away. That was a
problem for future them. For now, she had other things to worry about.

"Please, this way." Missandei beckoned.

As they began to walk, Davos strode ahead, striking up a short conversation

with the woman before falling back to where Yelena and Jon walked. "This
place has changed."

As they made their way up to the castle, Tyrion kept up polite conversation,
trying - and failing - to stave off the tension. "And Sansa?" he asked. "I
hear she's alive and well?"

"She is." Jon told him.

"Does she miss me terribly?" Yelena chuckled quietly at that, and Tyrion
looked back at her for a second, amused, before shaking his head. "A sham
marriage. And unconsummated."

Jon made a face. "I didn't ask."

"Well, it was. Wasn't." he corrected his wording. "Anyway... she's much

smarter than she lets on."

Jon sighed. "She's starting to let on."

"Good." Tyrion thought for a moment. "At some point I'd like to hear how a
Night's Watch recruit became King in the North... and finally got ahold of my
niece. Among other things."
Yelena smiled. "How did you know?"

"'That's what I do.'" he told her, quoting himself from so long ago now. "'I
drink and I know things.'"

Jon sighed. "All my bannermen think I'm a fool for coming down here."

"Well if I was your Hand I would've advised against it." Tyrion pointed out.
"General rule of thumb: Stark men don't fare well when they travel south."

"True, but I'm not a Stark."

A loud roar suddenly filled the air. Jon and Davos hit the deck while Yelena
stumbled back as something huge swooped by low. Yelena's breath stopped
in her lungs and her chest squeezed with awe. The creature was massive;
easily the size of a ship and each red and black wing extended to something
even larger than it's body. She watched it fly away with wide eyes, a
breathless smile growing slowly on her face. "He's beautiful." she whispered.

Her uncle shot her a wry smile as he helped Jon back to his feet. "I'd say you
get used to them," he sighed. "But you never really do. Come, their mother
is waiting for you."
 cẦaẮtez tœentặ-fiẴe ~ motẦez of
дzagons

THEY STRODE INTO THE THRONE ROOM BEHIND TYRION

AND MISSANDEI, Davos on Jon's right, Yelena on his left. On the large
rocky throne, sat a beautiful silver-haired young woman, regal and proud.

Missandei's voice rang out through the room. "You stand in the presence of
Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne,
rightful queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven
Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the
Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains."

Silence filled the space before Ser Davos filled it. "This is Jon Snow." he
stated simply. "He's King of the North."

Yelena bit back a smile. "Apologies, Queen Daenerys," she intervened. "It
would seem not all of us are as familiar with our titles as you."

She raised a brow at the princess. "Are you?"

She inclined her head. "I am Yelena of House Baratheon and House
Lannister, firstborn to King Robert of the Seven Kingdoms and his only
trueborn heir, Princess of Westeros, Call of the Wolf and Defiant of Death."
she added on the title Lord Swann had given her with a slight twinge of
satisfaction.

"The usurper's daughter."

Yelena only shook her head. "I don't want the throne. I never did. I wished
only to see a better ruler sitting on it than my brother."

The queen's eyes turned to Jon. "Thank you for travelling so far, my lord. I
hope the seas weren't too rough."

He nodded. "The winds were kind, Your Grace."

"Apologies," Davos stepped in with a frown. "I have a flea bottom accent, I
know, but Jon Snow is King in the North, Your Grace. He's not a lord."

Her eyes narrowed. "Forgive me..."

Tyrion rescued them. "Your Grace, this is Ser Davos Seaworth."

"Forgive me, Ser Davos. I never did receive a formal education, but I
could've sworn I read the last King in the North was Torrhen Stark, who bet
the knee to my ancestor, Aegon Targaryen. In exchange for his life and the
lives of the Northmen, Torrhen Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in
perpetuity. Or do I have my facts wrong?"

"I wasn't there, Your Grace." he said simply.

She smiled. "No, of course not. But still, an oath is an oath. And
perpetuity means-" she tilted her head. "What does perpetuity mean, Lord
Tyrion?"

"Forever." Yelena's eyes were full of mistrust when they landed on her uncle.
She'd put faith in their history of allegiance and trust when she agreed to
come, when she didn't advise Jon against it. But she was beginning to
question how right she was. Did he truly believe the North would just bend
the knee without firsthand proof that Daenerys was worthy of that loyalty?

"Forever." the queen echoed. "So I assume, my lord... you're here to bend the
knee."

Silence ensued. Yelena's gaze drifted to Jon. "I am not." he said finally.

"Oh." Daenerys's smile transformed into something sourer. "Well that is

unfortunate. You've travelled all this way to break faith with House
Targaryen?"

"Break faith?" much like the queen's, his smile held no amusement before it
faded entirely. "Your father burned my grandfather alive. He burned my
uncle alive. He would have burned the Seven Kingdoms-"

"My father..." she looked down now. "Was an evil man. On behalf of House
Targaryen... I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your
family. And I ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father. Our
two houses were allies for centuries, and those were the best centuries the
Seven Kingdoms have ever known. Centuries of peace and prosperity." She
lifted her chin high. "With a Targaryen sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark
serving as Warden of the North. I am the last Targaryen, Jon Snow. honour
the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee and I will name you
Warden of the North. Together, we will save this country from those who
would destroy it."

Jon looked about for a moment, his eyes catching on Yelena's he seemed to
give her a questioning look, which she responded to with a small encouraging
nod; go ahead. "You're right." he spoke again. "You're not guilty of your
father's crimes. And I'm not beholden to my ancestor's vows."

"Then why are you here?" her voice was hard.

"Because I need your help. And you need mine."

Daenerys's eyes narrowed. "Did you see three dragons flying overhead when
you arrived?"

"I did."

"And did you see the Dothraki, all of whom have sworn to kill for me?"

"They're hard to miss." he sounded almost amused at that.

"But still, I need your help?"

"Not to defeat Cersei." The venom in Yelena's voice when she spoke her
mother's name could have killed ten dragons coated in Skulking Stickweed.
A tiny smirk appeared on her face. "You could storm King's Landing this
moment, and the capital would be yours come nightfall."

Davos raised a brow. "Hell, we almost took it and we didn't even have
dragons."

"Almost." Tyrion couldn't fail to point out.

"But you haven't." The princess gave her uncle a hard look. "Why is that?
The most obvious reason is to avoid thousands of innocent lives being lost. It
would be the fastest and most effective way to win the war. But you won't do
it, which means, at the very least, you're better than my mother."

"Your mother?" Daenerys questioned at her word choice.

Yelena sighed. "It's a force of habit. I care nothing for the false queen."

"Still, this doesn't explain why I need your help."

"Because right now," Jon told her. "You and I and Cersei and everyone else...
we're children playing at a game, screaming that the rules aren't fair."

"You told me you liked this man." the queen snapped.

Tyrion didn't even blink. "I do."

"In the time since he's met me, he's refused to call me queen, he's refused to
bow, and now he's calling me a child."

"I believe he's calling all of us children." he told her. "Figure of speech."

Jon huffed in exasperation. "Your Grace, everyone you know will die before
winter's over if we don't defeat the enemy to the north."

"As far as I can see, you are the enemy to the north."

"I am not your enemy." he took a breath. "The dead are the enemy."

"The dead?" her voice was flat, annoyed. Her gaze turned to Tyrion again. "Is
that another figure of speech?"

"The Army of the Dead is on the march." Yelena told her.

"The Army of the Dead?" Tyrion's voice was an exact match to his queen's.

"Will you please stop looking at me like I've lost my mind and just
listen!" she snapped. Silence filled the room along with her glare. "Do you
believe I've gone mad, or that I'd lie to you? Have I ever lied to you?"

"No."

"Good. Then listen to me. A thousand years ago the dead rose north of the
Wall, and then even the dead died. But they didn't. They only slumbered.
The wights have returned again and are coming for the living, and we will
never survive if we continue to squabble amongst ourselves..." her gaze
returned to the woman on the throne. "Like children. We have to work
together or we will die. There are no exceptions. Not even for a dragon
queen."

"She's right." Jon said quietly. "Like it or not, she's right. We cannot be so
unprepared when death comes for us."

Slowly, in the quiet that followed, the dragon mother stood. "I was born at
Dragonstone. Not that I can remember it. We fled before Robert's assassins
could find us. Robert, who was your father, and your father's best friend."
She seemed to focus on the latter. "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." she started slowly down the steps. "I spent my life in foreign
lands. So many men have tried to kill me," she shook her head. "I don't
remember all their names. I have been sold, like a broodmare. I've been
chained and betrayed, raped and defiled." Yelena winced, her own awful
memories flooding back. Daenerys seemed to notice. "It's not easy, is it?" her
voice softened slightly, the room's attention turning to the princess. "Not for
us. Not for the powerful ones. I'm sure you have your own share of
nightmares. I bet you know what kept me standing."

She finally met the queen's eyes. "Faith." her voice was soft, but it carried
through the room just the same. "You never thought of any gods, did you?
You had to believe in yourself, believe you could make it. The thought of
how strong the torments have made you is the only thing that keeps you
alive sometimes. Because you know that after all you've suffered, you can
pull through this too."
Daenerys nodded, the first flicker of a genuine smile appearing in her eyes.
"The world hadn't seen a dragon in centuries until my children were born.
The Dothriaki hadn't crossed the sea, any sea. They did for me. And
Westeros had seen few if any female warriors, least of all princesses until you
took a sword into your hand. So you understand now, I was born to rule the
Seven Kingdoms. And I will." Yelena's heart sank. She understood the
woman's ambition and prevalence, certainly, but she was still missing the
most important piece.

Jon shook his head. "You'll be ruling over a graveyard... if we don't defeat the
Night King."

"The war against my sister has already begun." Tyrion protested

stepping forward. "You can't expect us to halt hostilities and join you in
fighting... whatever you saw beyond the wall."

Davos gave them hard looks. "You don't believe 'em." he nodded. "I
understand that, it sounds like nonsense. But if destiny has brought Daenerys
Targaryen back to our shores, it has also made Jon Snow King in the North.
You were the first to bring Dothraki to Westeros? He is the first to make
allies of wildlings and Northmen. He was named Lord Commander of the
Night's Watch. He was named King of the North. Not because of his
birthright, he has no birthright. He's a damn bastard. All those hard sons of
bitches chose him to be their leader... because they believe in him." Yelena
looked at the man with new respect as he continued. "All those things you
don't believe in, he faced those things. He fought those things for the good of
his people. He risked his life for his people. Both of them took a knife in the
heart for those people-"

"Ser Davos." The princess's voice was soft, but stopped him all the same. She
gave a small shake of her head, telling him that that was enough.

"Yes, my princess."

She turned calmer eyes back on the silver-haired queen. "If we don't put aside
our differences and band together, we will die. All of us, the south just as
well as the north. And it won't matter anymore, the body that lies atop that
throne of swords."
"If it doesn't matter, then you might as well kneel." Tyrion tried. "Swear your
allegiance to Queen Daenerys, help her to defeat my sister, and together our
armies will protect the North." Yelena was beginning to think that her Uncle's
hearing was very selective, seeing as he'd missed twice now when they said
everyone would be dead.

"There's no time for that!" Jon insisted. "There's no time for any of this!
While we stand here debating-"

"It takes no time to bend the knee. Pledge your sword to her cause."

"And why would I do that?" he demanded. "I mean no offense, Your Grace,
but I don't know you. As far as I can tell, your claim to the throne rests
entirely on your father's name, and both my father and Yelena's fought to
overthrow the Mad King." he huffed a breath. "The lords of the North placed
their trust in me to lead them, and I will continue to do so as well as I can."

"That's fair." she told him. But her eyes were still very calculating. "It's also
fair to point out that I'm the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms. By
declaring yourself king of the northernmost kingdom, you are in open
rebellion."

There was an uncomfortable silence, which was broken by footsteps entering

the room. Yelena's eyes widened at the sight of Lord Varys, who moved to
whisper something to Daenerys before striding away without a second
glance.

She drew a long breath. "You must forgive my manners. You'll all be tired
after your long journey. We'll have baths drawn for you and supper sent to
your rooms." she turned to one of the men that had brought them here,
speaking in Dothraki. He started Towards them as Daenerys began to climb
the steps once more.

"Are we your prisoners?" Jon asked, his tone none too polite.

"Not yet."

***
Yelena stood at the window of her room as she fidgeted with her necklace, a
tight feeling in her chest. She hated this. She hated being trapped in a castle.
It brought back too many memories. If she closed her eyes in this suffocating
closedness, she could almost picture her mother was about to stride in,
telling her to prepare for another day by her brother's side in the royal court.
So she didn't close her eyes. She didn't want to go back there, not even in her
mind. For a short while, she paced. Then she inspected the books, the shelves
they rested upon, the furniture. Her eyes flashed to every possible exit. The
windows were thicker than they had been in King's Landing, but she
imagined a good jab with her dagger would do the trick.

Finally, when she couldn't stand it any longer, she strode to the door, shoving
it open without any regard for the two Unsullied standing outside and started
down the hall. As she walked, she couldn't help but wonder if that was a
small gesture of compassion from the queen, posting men without cocks
outside her door instead of the ones so well-known for their pillaging and
raping. She walked right out the doors and across the fields until she found
herself at a small cliff overlooking where their ship floated in the water. She
walked up to the edge, and sat with her legs dangling down as the breeze
brushed gently through her hair. She sat there for a good long while as she
thought and worried, worried and thought... until a pair of voices interrupted
her pattern. Not too far away, on another small cliff, she could see Jon
talking to her uncle. She sighed, pulling her knees into her chest and
propping her chin on them as she pointedly ignored them, her gaze on the
waves crashing below. She really had no desire to speak with her uncle right
now after what had passed in the throne room, and she needed to think;
something that seemed much harder to do when Jon was around. She sighed.
It seemed, for now at least, they were stuck here.
 cẦaẮtez tœentặ-sit ~ 6uzn

IT TOOK HER A LITTLE WHILE, but she soon realised what she was
doing; the Princess of Westeros was sulking. As soon as she realised it,
Yelena hopped to her feet, crinkling her nose in distaste. She'd never gotten
anything done like that. Not training, not surviving her brother, not escaping
King's Landing and certainly not winning back the North. But what could she
do now? In the distance, the screeches of dragons filled the air. Yelena's eyes
narrowed in thought. Their mother seemed to be a good place to start.

When she finally found Daenerys, she was watching as her dragons soared
gracefully through the air, an aura of contentedness around her. She
approached slowly, not wanting to startle the other woman. "They're
beautiful." she said, coming to a stop beside the queen.

"I named them for my brothers, Viserys and Rheagar. They're both gone
now." Daenerys turned to look at her. "You've lost people too. People beyond
count."

The princess smiled sadly. "Not beyond count. I remember them all..." her
eyes turned back to the scaly beasts, and the queen's gaze followed.

"People thought dragons were gone forever, but here they are." she looked
curiously at Yelena. "Perhaps we should all be examining what we think we
know."

Amusement flashed through her eyes as she remembered seeing Tyrion speak
to Jon. "You spoke with my uncle."

"He is my Hand."

"Well he does enjoy talking."

"We all enjoy what we're good at." it was hard to argue with that, only...
"My father never did." she murmured. "He took the throne from a man who
wanted to burn everyone, and when he died it was taken by a woman who did
burn everyone. He hated being king... but he did a better job than his
predecessor and all of his successors. I like to think I'd do a good job, but I
don't want it either."

Daenerys looked at Yelena as though she were entirely reassessing what she'd
originally thought about the princess. "You know I'm not going to let Cersei
stay on the Iron Throne."

"I never thought you would, and I wouldn't want you to."

"And you know I haven't changed my mind about which kingdoms are part of
that throne."

Yelena sighed. "Well neither have I, but I'm not the King of the North. I'm
just a princess, if I'm even that anymore."

"But you're more like me. We understand one another far better than any man
could." After a second's hesitation, the princess nodded. "I will allow you to
mine the dragonglass and forge weapons from it. Any resources or men you
need, I will provide for you."

She blinked in shock. "Thank you. I... I don't expect you to believe us. I
understand the struggle..." she shook her head. "But I swear to you, I'm no
liar."

The queen's eyes returned to her dragons. "You'd better get to work, Yelena
Baratheon."

And so she did. When she left, she headed straight for the castle doors and to
the room across the hall from hers. When she reached the door, she rapped
sharply without hesitation.

"Who's there?" called Jon's voice.

"It's me. Can I come in?" After a second, the door opened and he gestured for
her to come inside.
"What is it?" when she turned to him again, amusement twinkled in his eyes.
"You look like you might start hopping about."

She cocked a brow teasingly. "You might be a little nicer if you knew what
just happened."

"What?"

"Daenerys has agreed to let us mine the dragonglass." she told him. "She says
she'll supply men and tools."

He frowned. "Tyrion must have spoken to her... does she really believe us?"

Yelena shook her head. "No, but I didn't think she would. It's a hard thing to
wrap your mind around. I've never seen them, so I can only imagine, but for
someone who doesn't even know all the stories, who doesn't know the North,
and especially someone who doesn't know you..." she sighed. "We're working
with what we've got. And what we've got right now is a dragon queen willing
to supply us with dragonglass. That seems pretty good to me."

Jon nodded. "You're right, it is." he wrapped an arm around her shoulders
gently, placing a kiss on her forehead. "I don't know how you do it, but you
really are amazing."

***

They wasted no time getting down to the beaches, looking for a way under
the island and to the dragonglass. Yelena stood at the cave entrance with Ser
Davos when Jon came back with Daenerys and Missandei.

"Wanted you to see it before we started hacking it to bits." Jon told the
queen. The group strode inside, and he lit the braisers as they entered the
large, cavernous space, dragonglass glittering in every nook and cranny,
lining walls, ledges, and most of the other available space as well.

"This is all we'll ever need." Yelena smiled, meeting Daenerys's shocked
eyes. When Jon took her off to see the carvings they'd discovered as well, the
princess turned her focus back to her surroundings. Though she didn't dare
draw the blade, she touched the sleeve where it rested with slight reverence,
silently thanking her father for the rare gift. When they left the cave again,
they found Tyrion and Varys waiting for them on the beach, looking grave.

"What is it?" The dragon-mother sounded tense and wary.

"We took Casterly Rock." Tyrion said simply.

"That's very good to hear... isn't it?"

The both of them shared a look before going on to explain about the invasion,
High Garden and Olenna Tyrell. Yelena felt a slight twinge of sadness at
learning the old woman was dead.

Daenerys stormed off down the beach, the others keeping pace behind her.

"You'll want to discuss this amongst yourselves." Davos said. "Perhaps-"

"You will stay." The queen's fury was obvious, though not entirely directed at
the knight. "All my allies are gone. They've been taken from me while I've
been sitting here on this island."

"You still have the largest armies." Tyrion pointed out.

"Who won't be able to eat because Cersei has taken all the food from the
reach!" she snapped.

"Call Grey Worm and the Unsullied back," he advised. "We still have
enough ships to carry the Dothraki to the mainland. Commit to the blockade
of King's Landing. We have a plan. It's still the right plan."

"The right plan?!" she whirled. "Your strategy has lost us Dorne, the Iron
Islands, and the Reach."

"If I have underestimated our enemies-"

"Have you now?" her voice was full of anger and impatience. She drew a
long breath, still looking furious and everyone followed her gaze as it drifted
to the dragons flying over the water. "Enough with the clever plans. I have
three large dragons. I'm going to fly them to the Red Keep."

"We've discussed this." Tyrion tried.

"My enemies are in the Red Keep." she insisted. "What kind of a queen am I
if I'm not willing to risk my life to fight them?"

"A smart one."

She sighed in exasperation, her eyes turning to the princess. "What do you
think I should do?"

She blinked. "I wouldn't presume to-"

"I'm at war." she strode slowly closer. "I'm losing. What do you think I
should do?"

Yelena's brows furrowed. "I personally love the idea of turning the Red
Keep to ashes... but I also know that place better than anyone here. It's not
just Cersei in there, it's servants, guards, people who have no love for her,
only fear. Possibly allies in the future. The Keep also resides over a densely-
populated portion of the city. The people living there are innocent." her eyes
turned to the water. "What is the use of dragons, if you cannot burn your
enemies?" she raised a brow. "But the innocents on King's Landing are not
your enemies. If you do that, you're not building a new world, just more of
the same. You'd be no different than my mother. You want to burn
someone?" her gaze became fierce. "Burn armies. Burn the bannermen who
don't belong to her but chose her anyway. They are your enemies."

Hours later, Yelena returned to the beach, looking out across the water. So it
was that she was the first one to see the ship with a kraken sail approach
Dragonstone, ringing it's bells to signal its return. She could hear the steps
approaching behind her, but her focus was on the men hauling their rowboat
to shore, her eyes narrowing when she spotted Theon Greyjoy. It was true
that he'd helped Sansa escape Ramsay, but he'd also taken Winterfell from
Bran in the first place. Jon came to Yelena's side, and she could hear the low
murmurs of the Dothraki behind him, as well as Lady Missandei and Ser
Davos. He too seemed unsure of whether to thank the man before them or hit
him really hard. Theon seemed just as surprised to see them. Jon moved
forward slowly, and Yelena didn't try to stop him.

"Jon." Theon's tone was a little nervous. "Princess. I didn't know you were
here." he took a few cautious steps forward. "S-Sansa... is she alright?"

As soon as he was within reaching distance, Jon snatched him by the collar.
"What you did for her..." he said darkly. "Is the only reason I'm not killing
you." he let him go, and Yelena and Davos came to Jon's side.

"We heard your uncle attacked your fleet." Davos said. "We thought you
were dead."

"I should be." his voice wobbled slightly.

"Your sister?"

"Euron has her... I came to ask the queen to help me get her back."

"The queen is gone." Jon told him simply.

Theon frowned. "Where did she go?"

Yelena's lips twitched with the tiniest hint of satisfaction. "To take my
advice."

***

She stood watching on the cliffs with Jon as Drogon returned. The wind blew
at their cloaks and hair as he landed with a great flap, growling. His eyes
were locked on them as he charged forwards, stopping right before them as
he roared. Jon's grip on Yelena's hand tightened, the two of them
unconsciously leaning closer to one another. The dragon's eyes were narrow
but also curious as his nose lowered towards them. Yelena's eyes were full of
awe, and she found herself taking a tiny, tentative step forward. Her eyes met
with Jon's for a split second, the both of them very slowly raising hands to the
scaly snout as the dragon snarled warily. The princess was the first to make
contact, her soft skin brushing gently against rough scales and the growls
turned to something almost like a purr. Jon was only a second after, both
staring in amazement. Yelena's lips formed a smile and a small breathless
laugh escaped her lips. Drogon's head pulled back as his mother slid carefully
from his back, studying the king and the princess curiously. With a huge flap,
Drogon lifted off again to fly with his brothers.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Daenerys smiled a little.

Jon's expression turned to one of amusement as the shock began to wear off.
"It wasn't the word I was thinking of, but... yes, they are. Gorgeous beasts."

"They're not beasts to me." she told him. "No matter how big they get, how
terrifying to everyone else, they're my children." Her eyes met Yelena's and
the girls exchanged small smiles.

"You weren't gone long." she observed.

"No."

"And?"

Daenerys gave both of them a measured look. "And I have fewer enemies
today than I did yesterday." She watched their faces change carefully.
"You're not sure how you feel about that?"

"No, I'm not." Jon sighed.

"How many men did your army kill when you took Witerfell back from
the Boltons?" she asked, beginning to walk. The two followed closely.

"Thousands."

"We all want to help people. We can only help them from a position of
strength." the silver-haired queen let out a small breath. "And sometimes
strength is terrible." she seemed to hesitate before proceeding. "When you
first came here... Ser Davos said you both took a knife in the heart for your
people."

Yelena grimaced. That was one truth she wasn't ready to reveal yet. "Ser
Davos can get carried away sometimes."
"So it was a figure of speech?" she confirmed.

The princess was spared from responding when a small group of Dothraki
approached, speaking words she couldn't understand. The leader stepped
aside to reveal a plainly clad man in his forties and the queen blinked in
astonishment, her face alighting with joy. She responded in Dothraki, not
taking her slightly teary eyes off the newcomer.

He approached, kneeling. "Your Grace." he rose, and Daenerys seemed to

realise introductions were in order.

"Yelena Baratheon, Jon Snow, this is Ser Jorah Mormont, an old friend."
Yelena blinked as she recognised the name.

"I served with your father in the Night's Watch." Jon told him. "He was a
great man." the only response was a nod, his face betraying a hint of guilt.

"You look strong." the queen said. "You found a cure?"

"I wouldn't be here if I hadn't. I return to your service, my queen, if you'll

have me."

She smiled. "It would be my honour."

 cẦaẮtez tœentặ-seẴen ~ 6astazд
6zotẦez

WHEN THEY LATER RECEIVED A SUMMONS TO THE WAR

ROOM, Yelena stood by Jon's side as he read the letter from Winterfell.
Though the news about the Army of the Dead was terrible, she felt her heart
lift immeasurably at learning that the Stark children were alive and well.

"I thought Arya was dead." Jon said finally. "I thought Bran was dead."

"I'm happy for you." Daenerys told him, then frowned slightly. "You don't
look happy."

He shook his head. "Bran saw the Night King and his army marching on
Eastwatch. If they make it past the Wall-"

"The Wall has kept them out for thousands of years, presumably." Varys
intervened.

Yelena shot him a look. "And how many times in the past thousand
years have they launched a full-scale attack on us? Or any attack at all?
Even if they can't get through, they can just go over. They don't tire."

"I need to go home." Jon told the queen firmly.

"You said you don't have enough men." her tone sounded reasonable.

"We'll fight with the men we have. Unless you'll join us?" his voice was irked
and doubtful.

"And give the country to Cersei? As soon as I march away, she marches in."

"Perhaps not." Tyrion said thoughtfully. "Cersei thinks the army of the dead
is nothing but a story, made up by wet nurses to frighten children. What if we
prove her wrong?"

"I don't think she'll come see the dead at my invitation." Jon's laugh was
humorless.

"So bring the dead to her."

"I thought that's what we were trying to avoid." Daenerys's brows furrowed.

He shook his head. "We don't have to bring the whole army... only one
soldier."

Davos frowned thoughtfully. "Is that possible?"

"It should be." Everyone turned to look at Yelena. "I've come to believe that
most of what I knew growing up was horse shit, but there were books about
the walkers that may hold some truth. Supposedly, a wight is kept alive by
the life force of the walker that turned it, so as long as its sire doesn't die..."

Her uncle nodded. "Bring one of these things down to King's Landing and
show her the truth."

"Anything you bring back will be useless unless Cersei grants us an audience
and is somehow convinced not to murder us the moment we set foot in the
capital." Varys couldn't fail to point out.

"The only person she listens to is Jamie." Tyrion sighed. "He might listen to
me."

His queen gave him an exasperated look as he turned to her. "And how would
you get into King's Landing?"

His eyes moved to Davos, who seemed to think about that for a second. "I
can smuggle you in, but if the gold cloaks were to recognise you, I'm warning
you, I'm not a fighter."

"Well it will all be for nothing if we don't have one of these dead men."
Daenerys said.
"Fair point." Varys looked to Jon. "How do you propose to find one?"

He looked uncertain, but it was Jorah who spoke next. "With my queen's
permission, I'll go north and take one." she looked at him in disbelief. "You
asked me to find a cure so I could serve you. Allow me to serve you."

"The free folk will help us." Jon stepped in. "They know the real north better
than anyone."

"They won't follow Ser Jorah." Yelena warned.

"They won't have to."

The princess's head snapped around to stare at him as Davos spoke up. "You
can't lead a raid beyond the Wall. You're not in the Night's Watch anymore,
you're King in the North."

"I'm the only one here who's fought them." he reasoned. "I'm the only one
here who knows them."

"I haven't given you permission to leave." the queen intervened.

But Jon only shook his head. "With respect, Your Grace, I don't need your
permission. I am a King."

When he was quiet, Yelena took a small step toward the queen, meeting her
eyes. She didn't know the other woman very well yet, but they'd established
something of a friendship since meeting, so she hoped that perhaps she could
sway her. "We knew the risks when we came here." she said gently. "We
sailed to an island of Unsullied, Dothraki, and Dragons, and whether they're
true or not, we've all heard stories. But we put our trust in a complete stranger
because it was the best chance for the people. Now I ask you to put your trust
in a stranger, because we know each other better than you think. We've more
or less faced many of the same nightmares, gained many of the same values
as women climbing to power. I'm asking you to trust me... because it's our
best chance. It may be our only chance."

Finally, she nodded.

***

Decked out in her gear without a skirt or cloak in the way and her hair pulled
back into a tight braid out of her face, Yelena strode about the caverns,
overseeing production and helping where she could.

Ser Davos's voice broke her focus. "Begging your pardon, Your Grace."
he strode towards Jon with a young man at his side, and Yelena hopped
down from the ledge she was on to join them. "My Princess."

"You survived King's Landing." Jon smiled.

"Yet again." he looked to the boy beside him. "This is Clo-"

"Name's Gendry, Your Grace." he interrupted. "I'm Robert Baratheon's

son. Bastard son."

If looks could kill, Davos would've murdered the poor lad right then. He
sighed while Jon simply blinked in astonishment. "He was meant to keep that
to himself."

Yelena chuckled. "I guess blunt honesty runs in the family." she extended
a hand. "Yelena Baratheon. Robert's daughter and, I suppose, your sister."

He grinned, shaking the offered hand. "Great to meet you. Really great. I've
heard amazing things but... wow, are you sure we're related?" She laughed,
and when she stepped back, his gaze turned to Jon. "Ser Davos told me where
you're going, Your Grace, and why. Let me come with you."

Davos's head snapped up. "Don't be a fool. You're not a soldier."

"Neither am I, but I'm not letting Jon leave me behind south of that pile of
ice." the princess pointed out. "You a fighter, brother?"

His reply was immediate. "Yes."

She looked at Jon, who sighed. "You know how to use a sword?"

"I prefer a hammer."

Princess and King both looked to Davos for confirmation. He gave an
exasperated huff, but gave in to honesty. "He can handle himself."

Jon seemed slightly hesitant, but nodded anyway. "We could use the help."

"As my father used to say," Davos muttered. "'It's better to be a coward for a
minute than dead for the rest of your life'."

"I owe you my life twice over now." Gendry told him. "And if what you say
is true about what's up there, I can't wait out this war."

The Onion Knight huffed. "Yeah, nobody mind me. All I've ever done is live
to a ripe old age."

Yelena grinned. "Don't worry Ser Davos, I don't intend to die anytime soon."

Travelling once again on the open water, it didn't take them long to find
themselves at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. Jon had tried again and again to
convince the princess to stay safely on Dragonstone, but she wouldn't let him
face the dead alone this time. Not to mention she now had a brother to look
after as well. A small shiver ran down Yelena's spine at the sight of the Wall
as her memories of her last encounter with it flooded back. She would still
dream about it sometimes; Jon's blood coating her hands, Alliser's hand
threatening to squeeze the air from her lungs, a burning sensation over her
heart, the contrasting feeling of cold snow beneath her and warm blood
pooling around her...

"You alright?" Jon's voice pulled her from her memories, and she gave him a
small smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine. You sure you're ready to go back there?"

He sighed. "I don't have much of a choice." their fingers twined subtly
together out of view of the others and she saw a ghost of a smile flash
through his eyes. "But I don't have much to worry about with the fearsome
Princess Yelena beside me."

Inside the castle, Tormund was looking at her with one eyebrow cocked. "I
thought it was your job to talk him out of stupid shit like this."

Yelena chuckled. "It's my self-assigned job to keep him safe when he gets a
stupid idea like this."

"How many queens are there now?" he huffed.

"Two." Jon replied.

"And you need to convince the one with dragons, or the one who fucks her
brother?" Yelena snorted in a very un-ladylike way at that.

"Both."

"How many men did you bring?" Tormund asked.

Jon's gaze slid around the table. "Not enough."

"The big woman?"

Jon chuckled, and Jorah spoke up. "We were hoping some of your men could
help."

"I'll be staying behind." Davos told the wildling. "I'm a liability out there, as
you well know."

He nodded. "You are." his eyes turned back to Jon. "You really want to go
out there? Again?" When Jon nodded, Tormund looked around. "Well you're
not the only ones." he took them down to the cold cells where faint and pale
sunlight streamed onto the floor between bars. "My scouts found them a mile
south of the Wall. Said they were on their way here."

Three men sat inside, and Yelena blinked in shock at the one laying on the
table. "Sandor Clegane."

"The Hound?" Jon asked in slight disbelief. She nodded.

"They want to go beyond the wall too." Tormund told them.

"We don't want to. We have to." The man who spoke was a bit older, with a
scrappy-looking eyepatch over his right eye. "Our Lord told us that the
Great War is coming-"

"Don't trust him." Gendry said darkly. "Don't trust any of them." Yelena's
brows furrowed as he continued, stepping closer to the bars. "They're the
Brotherhood. And the last thing their Lord told them to do was sell me to a
red witch to be murdered." Yelena's mind flashed to Lady Melisandre.

"Thoros?" Jorah asked, seeming to recognise the last man, who leaned a little
further from the shadows at the sound of his name. "I hardly recognised you."

"Ser Jorah Mormont." A little grin crossed the man - Thoros's - face. "They
won't give me anything to drink down here. I haven't been feeling like
myself."

"You're a fucking Mormont?" Tormund's voice was quiet, but angry. "Like
the last Lord Commander?"

"He was my father."

"He hunted us like animals."

Jorah's eyes darkened. "You returned the favour, as I recall."

"Enough." silence ensued as the princess watched the two men carefully. "If
we were judging people by their fathers then the dragon queen should have
killed me, and I her. But that is not what we do."

"Here we all are," intoned the man with the patch, a small smile playing at his
lips. "At the edge of the world, at the same moment, heading in the same
direction for the same reason."

"Our reasons aren't your reasons." Davos glared.

"It doesn't matter what we think our reasons are." he stood, approaching the
iron bars. "There's a greater purpose at work, and we serve it together,
whether we know it or not. We may take the steps, but the Lord of Light-"
"For fuck's sake, will you shut your hole?" the Hound snapped. "Are we
coming with you or not?"

"Don't you want to know what we're doing?" Jorah frowned.

"Is it worse than sitting in a freezing cell, waiting to die?" Thoros asked.

Yelena arched a brow. "Probably not."

"He's right." Jon finally spoke again. "We're all on the same side."

"How can we be?" Gendry asked in disbelief.

He sighed. "We're all breathing."

 cẦaẮtez tœentặ-eigẦt ~ staặ œitẦ me

THE COLD WAS UNFORGIVING, the wind billowing as the gate to

Eastwatch shut behind them. Saving their breath, the group stomped through
the whirling snow until it had passed, leaving them padding across fresh
snow in the calm northern air. Being lighter than the others, Yelena moved
easier and over the snow, her pace keeping her at the front of the group as
she heard the murmurs of conversation behind her; Jon and Beric, Jon and
Ser Jorah, Tormund and the Hound.

Finally, they all halted as the Hound pointed to a mountain standing before
them. "That's what I saw in the fire. A mountain like an arrowhead."

"Are you sure?" Thoros verified.

Clegane nodded. "We're getting close."

As they pushed forward towards the rocky spire, they were hit with another
storm, once again making their journey more difficult. Through the wind-
whipped snow, they came to a stop at something before them; a barely visible
figure that was not one of their own.

"A bear." the Hound realised. "Big fucker."

Yelena frowned as it turned to them; something was wrong; and then it

clicked. Gendry said it mere seconds after her mind had registered it. "Do
bears have blue eyes?"

As it began to charge, the man who'd been guiding them began rushing back
to the group, only to be snatched by another bear that appeared from the left,
and then was gone again. Jon ran after them, the other following only to
find a spear and a pool of quickly-freezing blood. They all drew weapons,
forming a defensive circle as they attempted to cover every angle. A roar
sounded suddenly, and another man was snatched up. One charged forwards,
bringing his sword down on the monster's neck, but it only threw him away.
Thoros and Beric drew blades of fire, charging at the bear and setting it
aflame. Its murderous blue gaze set on the Hound, who remained frozen in
fear at the sight of the fire. Thoros ran in to help, but was slammed to the
ground, his sword the only thing between him and the bear's teeth as it
attempted to rip him to shreds. Tormund ran forward, but even he was tossed
aside, the bear's attention returned to the one wielding fire. It finally managed
to toss his sword aside, biting into his chest and eliciting agonized yells as it
whipped him around like a rag doll. With a shout, Yelena rushed forwards.
She sank her black dagger into the bear's neck, and finally, it fell. Gendry and
Beric dragged Thorors away from the thing. Somehow, the man wasn't dead
yet.

While they dealt with his wounds, Jon and Yelena found each other, their
hands swiftly connecting. "Are you hurt?" he looked her up and down.

She shook her head, still a bit shocked. "I'm alright. Are you?" he nodded,
and her gaze returned to the bear. "That was just one. And the Night King has
a whole army."

He nodded gravely. "That he does."

Tormund approached them, looking over the bodies, and then the bear prints.
The three of them seemed to silently agree that they had to follow those
prints if they wanted what they came for.

And they did, but when they started up the mountain, the sounds of armor,
weapons and more feet over snow stopped them. Quietly as they could, they
approached a crevasse, and inside, the dead walked in line, heading south.

"Where's the rest of them?" Jon wondered quietly.

"If we wait long enough," Tormund warned. "We'll find out."

And so they set to work. It seemed that the best way to face them was not a
head on assault, but since these things liked to surprise people it was only fair
to turn it around on them with a trap. They lit a small fire directly in the path
of the wights, and then hid out where they had a good view, but also wouldn't
be easily spotted. When they reached the area, the leader - the walker -
stopped, turning towards the fire and approaching it. He looked around in
suspicion, still entirely unaware of the presence of the living until they
jumped out, attacking with full force. Yelena wouldn't have described it as an
easy fight. She was smarter and quicker and less awkward then her opponent,
yes, but he also didn't tire, nor did he seem to be inclined to die a second
time. Finally, her Valyrian steel sword cut straight through its chest, killing
it. Another slammed into her, knocking her to the ground. As it brought
down its weapon, she rolled away, springing quickly to her feet and resuming
the fight until the walker crumbled before her eyes.

She took a shocked step back, her eyes meeting Jon's. He'd killed the walker
that turned them. But not all of them. One of them still stumbled about
aimlessly, growling as they encircled it. They kept it trapped until Tormund
knocked it to the ground and they began to bind it. It suddenly let out a shriek
that left Yelena's ears ringing as it echoed off the rocks until the Hound
silenced it with a hand over its face. And then they heard it; the thundering of
feet and hooves.

"It's a call for help!" Yelena cried. "Hurry!" They quickly bound the walker
and pulled a bag over its head. She whirled to her brother. "Go back to
Eastwatch and get a raven to Daenerys. Tell her what's happened."

"I'm not leaving you." he insisted.

"And I'm not watching you die! You're the fastest besides me and I'm the one
with Valyrian Steel." he seemed to hesitate at that. "Go!" and then he was
running, the rest of them hurrying in another direction with their captive.
Yelena was the first to reach the lake of ice, not even noticing until she heard
cracking behind her and Jorah's voice yelling for everyone stop. Her heart
pounded as she turned, watching the ice crackle beneath the men, who were
heavier than her. She watched the cracks slowly spread from them to her,
making the surface creak beneath her feet. And then the true fear hit, her
eyes locking on what was behind them. "Jon!" she pointed, and he turned to
see the horde of dead rapidly gaining behind them. "Come on!" they hurried
forward once more as the walkers began to form a ring that would trap them.
They reached the small island in the middle, drawing their weapon as the
circle was completed. One of theirs had fallen behind, but as a dead man
tackled him, a ring of ice shattered between the living and the dead, and the
wights fell through. The rest of them halted, and Yelena realised they must
not be able to swim. The group breathed hard as they watched the white
walkers stare them down, praying that Gendry would make it, and that the
dragon queen would come to their aid.

Night fell quickly, their dead prisoner twitching violently and roaring all the
while. Yelena sat at the edge of the island with her sword set flat on the
ground before her all night long. She watched the others fall asleep, but she
remained awake, watching their enemy carefully. She couldn't sleep under
threat like this, could barely even bring herself to feel tired. So she watched
the silent and still army across the lake and listened to the beast they'd caught
roar and shriek. When the sky began to lighten again, the sound of footsteps
and tiny groans behind her alerted her to the others' awakening, and she
stood, resheathing her sword as Jon came to her side. "There's another." she
murmured darkly. "He came last night. He's been watching you." he
followed her eyes to the blue-eyed rider in a crown of ice. "That him?"

He nodded. "Aye. That's the Night King." he huffed a breath. "If he's here,
the dragons might be our only chance."

"No." Beric came to their side after burning the body of Thoros, who'd died
in the night. "There's another. Kill him." he pointed his blade to the Night
King. "He turned them all."

Jon shook his head. "You don't understand."

"The Lord brought you back, he brought me back, he saved the princess. No
one else. Just us. Did he do it to watch us freeze to death?"

"Careful Beric." Clegane warned. "You lost your priest. This is your last
life."

"I've been waiting for the end for a long time." he glared out at the dead king.
"Maybe the Lord brought me here to find it."
"Every lord I've ever met's been a cunt." the Hound muttered. "Don't see why
the Lord of Light should be any different."

Yelena didn't know how long she paced for before she heard the sound. She
turned to see the Hound had chucked a rock at the dead, and it knocked the
jaw of one clean off. It did nothing. He muttered under his breath before
picking up another rock, but this one fell short. Yelena's eyes widened. She
sucked in a breath as it slid right over where the ice should have been broken.
And the wights saw it too. "Oh, fuck." Clegane muttered.

They drew swords as the first one braved the path across the ice. It held firm.
More followed, and the fight began. The numbers were nowhere near even,
but the living had the advantage of higher ground and a defendable position.
Each strike they made had motivation behind it; fear and desperation. The
wights only followed commands blindly. But there were still many, many
more of them; the odds were laughable, but it wasn't very funny. Yelena
turned to see Jon struggling against a dead man clinging to his back, and
rushed forwards with a roar, sinking dragonglass deep into its neck. By the
time it hit the ground she was already plunging furiously back into the fight.
She heard Jon call for them to fall back to the very top of the island, but as
she turned, she was suddenly ripped down by the ankles. There wasn't time to
scream before she fell, tasting blood in her mouth as her chin hit the ice. She
rolled as a knife came down where she'd just been, but more wights leapt at
her, and she was barely able to fend them off from here. She scrambled back,
slashing at the monsters as she heard someone scream her name. With a
desperate cry, she lunged at where the water met the island, driving her
sword through. The wights around her fell in with a splash, and she nearly
did too, getting back just in time. She jumped back to her feet, hurrying to the
top of the island and into something solid and warm. Jon let out a breath of
immense relief, and they both fought once again, though it was clearly
hopeless.

And then her vision filled with fire. When it cleared, Yelena looked up to see
three dragons flying high, their roars echoing off every frozen face of rock as
they wreaked fiery destruction on the Army of the Dead. Drogon landed on
the island, spitting fire at any wights who dared come near, Daenerys riding
amongst the patterns of scales and spikes. They climbed on quickly, but
Yelena realised someone was missing; Jon was defending them from the side.

"Jon!" Jorah called. He didn't listen, and the princess's heart quickened with
fear.

"Jon, let's go!" she cried as he stepped out onto the ice. And then disaster
struck. Yelena watched as Viserion's side exploded in fire, pierced by a spear
of the Night King. When the flames died, blood began to spatter the ground
below the falling dragon before he crashed. For a moment he was visible, and
then ever so slowly, the magnificent creature sank beneath the ice. Her chest
heaved with a horrified breath of disbelief as she watched, but her head
whipped around again when she heard Jon fighting. And the Night King drew
another spear. "Jon!"

"Go!" he yelled. "Go now! Leave!" he cut his way towards them until three
dead tackled him, and the ice gave out beneath.

"NO!" Yelena's awful scream split the air, and she lunged to go after him, but
a pair of arms were wrapped firmly around her as she fought and wailed,
Tormund's voice telling her they had to go, there was nothing to be done. She
continued to fight him even as Drogon lifted off. A ragged, tearful cry fell
from her lips as they flew away, her eyes glued to the scene behind them;
flames, ice, water, and thousands of dead men walking. But no Jon Snow.
Her best friend, Jon's best friend, continued to hold her as she sobbed,
quaking uncontrollably in despair.

***

The princess stood atop the wall, watching the ground below with blank eyes
as the others prepared to leave. Her face was still streaked with tears, but it
didn't really matter. None of it mattered without him. Thinking of him had
kept her alive through years of psychological torture and horror under her
brother's rule. If he was dead now, she might as well hurl herself from this
wall and be done with it. She'd meant what she told him; she didn't ever want
to live without him again. Dragons glided by overhead as Yelena heard
footsteps approaching. "Your Grace." her voice was hollow.

"Lady Yelena... it's time. We must go."

"You must go." she didn't turn, and her voice was soft. "I will not leave
without him."

Ser Jorah spoke this time. "My lady-"

"I will not come down from this parapet until Jon Snow has returned." every
word was clipped off.

"You might be waiting a long time." Daenerys said gently.

"I'll wait until I die if need be." uncomfortable silence ensued. And then
suddenly it was broken by the blast of a horn. One blast; an approaching
rider. Yelena's eyes caught on the black horse riding for the gates, her heart
picking up pace rapidly. Was it possible...? She whirled, sprinting into the
elevator. When it was still moving, she opened the door, jumping down and
hopping a couple flights of stairs until she reached the ground. She heard the
gate close, and rushed forwards, her eyes finding his face. It was him. He
was unconscious, damp and freezing, but not dead.

On the ship she forced her way into the room where he lay, watching with
terrified eyes as they cut off his frozen-solid cloak and shirt, revealing a
blue- tinged chest full of scars. What she didn't see was Daenerys standing
not far behind her, eyes on the scar directly over Jon's heart before her eyes
slid over to the princess, wondering if she hid the same scar.

Yelena sat by Jon's side as he slept, not once leaving him, not even standing
when the dragon queen came to see her.

"You really were stabbed in the heart." Her voice was cautious as she studied
the other girl, who sighed.

"Jon was." she said quietly. "I almost was. They missed. Still, I would be
dead right now had the Red Woman not brought me back too."

"Lady Melisandre?"

Yelena's lips twitched. "I had a feeling she might have gone to you after she
left us. The queen of fire-breathing dragons. Seems perfect." her eyes became
sad at the memory of poor Viserion. "I'm so sorry for what happened, Dany."

She huffed a small laugh. ""Dany"? Who was the last person who called me
that? I'm not sure. Was it my brother?" she shook her head. "Not the
company you want to keep."

"Then how about Your Grace?"

Daenerys looked at her in shock. "What about Jon? He's the King in the
North."

The princess turned her eyes back to his sleeping face. "I'll talk to him." she
murmured. "You risked everything to help us. You lost a child helping us.
And now you know better than anyone the threat we face. I believe you'll
fight beside us. You're too good a heart who's seen too much to let us fight
them alone. And Westeros needs a good heart on the throne for once."

After a moment, the queen nodded. "I hope I deserve it. I'll- I'll leave you be."

"Daenerys." She stopped in the doorway to look at Yelena. "I wish we could
take it all back. I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "I don't. I see now that you are truly worth fighting
beside. All of you." and with the tiniest of sad smiles, she left, closing the
door behind her.

**Jon POV**

When Jon did wake, his vision slowly cleared to see a young woman sitting
by his side, her eyes red as she wrung her hands worriedly.

"Yelena." his voice came hoarsely, but it was enough.

Her eyes were wide and full of relief as she turned to look at him. "You're not
dead." She sounded both like she had been crying, and as though she were
about to again, and it sent a stab of guilt through his chest.

"Are you alright?"

"Am I alright?!" her voice cracked, but there was anger there too. "I thought
you were dead! I thought your stupid self had gone and died! Do you have
any idea what that felt like?! Do you have any idea what that would do to
me?!" a tear slipped free, leaving a little trail down her cheek, her breath
speeding as she tried to contain her emotions. He felt his own chest tighten
knowing that he caused this, that once again, he was the reason she was
crying. He almost expected her to pull away when he reached for her hand,
but she only squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head and forcing herself to
breathe deeply. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, the anger gone.
"What were you thinking?"

He kept his eyes on her as he spoke. "I don't know. Maybe I just wanted to
get that son of a bitch before he had the chance to get us."

She laughed softly, her voice still a bit shaky. "Well, he got you."

Jon's eyes crinkled slightly in a smile. "Yeah, I know."

She tightened her grip on his hand. "Don't ever do that again, you hear me? If
you die, you're taking me with you."

"Yes, princess."

That brought out a real laugh, and Yelena leaned down, placing her head
gently on his chest as she hugged him. He stroked her back gently, burying
his face in her hair that smelled of pine, wolf's fur and a bit of blood. "I
should probably tell you..." he sighed. "I've been thinking about bending the
knee."
 cẦaẮtez tœentặ-nine ~ motẦez

**Yelena POV**

BEFORE LONG YELENA STOOD IN REGULAR GEAR AGAIN AT

JON'S SIDE AS THEY SAIDE TO KING'S LANDING, sword and
dagger at her side with her hair pulled back into simple double ponytails, a
couple small braids intertwined into them.

"How many people live here?" Jon asked as Tyrion climbed the steps to join
them.

"A million, give or take." the dwarf told him.

"That's more people than the entire North crammed into that." He nodded at
the city. "Why would anyone want to live that way?"

"They both have their charms," Yelena sighed. "Though I think I prefer the
North."

Tyrion shrugged. "There's more work in the city. And the brothels are far
superior."

She snorted. "Of course, dear uncle."

On land, as they walked toward their meeting point in the Dragon Arena, they
conversed about its history. They stopped when they met a squadron of
Lannister soldiers, led by none other than Tyrion's old friend Bronn.

"Welcome, my lords." he sighed, clearly hating the formalities, then

proceeding to gesture to where Brienne and Podrick stood behind him. "Your
friends arrived before you did. I've been sent to escort you all to the meeting."
The Lannister men parted, making a clear path, and Tyrion nodded at the
questioning look given to him by the Dothraki. They moved forward first, the
rest of them following close behind.

In the center of the arena, there was a large platform, shaded and filled with
seats. Empty seats, though Yelena's heart still pounded at the thought of
seeing her mother again. What would Cersei do? What would she say? She
stood next to Jon with Ser Davos on his other side, clenching her jaw. Jon
seemed to notice her tension, lightly brushing her hand with his. It was a
small gesture, but it went a long way. But when she saw Cersei, it made little
difference. Her jaw and every other muscle in her body tensed once again,
and it took every ounce of effort she had to not visibly panic. Cersei was too
busy glaring at Tyrion, so it was Jamie who noticed her first.

"Yelena??"

Her mother whirled at that, her eyes widening when they landed on her
daughter. "My little cub..." her voice was soft. "But I thought-"

"Think again." Yelena snapped.

The queen took a shaky breath, regaining her composure before she sat.
Everyone else followed suit, but the Hound walked straight up to his brother.

"Remember me? Yeah. You do. You're even fucking uglier than I am now.
What'd they do to you?" he huffed. "Doesn't matter. That's not how it ends for
you, brother. You know who's coming for you. You've always known." the
Hound turned and stalked off, the Mountain returning to his queen's side.

"Where is she?" Cersei asked.

It was Tyrion who answered. "She'll be here soon."

"Didn't travel with you?" her voice was colder

now. "No."

They sat in silence for a long moment before the sound of a roar echoed
through the sky, wing flaps becoming clearly audible too. Everyone stood as
the sound grew closer, directly overhead now. While Rhaegal stayed high,
Drogon glided down to land on a wall of the ruins. Cersei remained seated,
but Yelena knew her mother well enough to know that she was afraid. The
beast flared it's wings, letting out an earthshaking roar before bowing his
head to reveal the silver-haired queen on his back, letting her clamber
gracefully down to the ground before taking flight again. Daenerys ascended
the steps calmly, taking her seat as the others did too.

Cersei glared at her. "We've been here for some time."

"My apologies." Yelena could see the dragon-mother was biting back a
smirk.

Tyrion stood. "We are all facing a unique-"

"Theon!" Yelena raised a brow at the man she assumed was Euron Greyjoy,
the one currently attempting to fuck the false queen. "I have your sister. If
you don't submit to me here, now... I'll kill her."

Theon did not respond, and Tyrion exchanged looks with his brother before
continuing. "I think we ought to begin with larger concerns."

"Then why are you talking?" he grinned. "You're the smallest concern here."

Tyrion gave an exasperated sigh, looking at Theon. "Do you remember when
we discussed dwarf jokes?"

"His wasn't even good." Theon's lips twitched as his uncle stood, approaching
the Hand of the Queen.

"He explained it at the end. Never explain. It always ruins it."

Euron sneered. "We don't even let your kind live on the Iron Islands, you
know? We kill you at birth. An act of mercy for the parents."

"Perhaps you ought to sit down." Jamie snapped finally.

"Why?"

"Sit down or leave." Cersei ordered.

Euron obeyed, and Tyrion continued on. "We are a group of people who do
not like one another, as this recent demonstration has shown. We have
suffered at each others' hands. We have lost people we love at each others'
hands. If all we wanted was more of the same, there would be no need for
this gathering. We are entirely capable of waging war against each other
without meeting face-to-face."

"So instead we should settle our differences and live together in harmony for
the rest of our days?" Cersei guessed in irritation.

"We all know that will never happen."

"Then why are we here?"

Jon stood now, Yelena keeping her eyes on her mother's men all the while.
"This isn't about living in harmony." he told the queen. "It's just about living.
The same thing is coming for all of us; a general you can't negotiate with. An
army that doesn't leave corpses behind on the battlefield. Lord Tyrion tells
me a million people live in this city. They're about to become a million more
soldiers in the Army of the Dead."

"I imagine for most of them, it would be an improvement." Cersei told him.

He glared at her. "This is serious. I wouldn't be here if it weren't."

"I don't think it's serious at all. I think it's another bad joke. If my brother
Jamie has informed me correctly, you're asking me for a truce."

"Yes." Daenerys spoke up. "That's all."

"That's all?" There was a smile on Cersei's face, but her eyes were
murderous. "Pull back my armies and stand down while you go on your
monster hunt. All while you solidify and expand your position. Hard for me
to know which it is with my armies pulled back until you return and march on
my capital with four times the men."

"Your capital will be safe until the northern threat is dealt with. You have my
word."
"The word of a would-be usurper."

"There is no conversation," Tyrion intervened. "That will erase the last fifty
years."

"We have something to show you." Yelena's voice was calm as the Hound
came back with the crate. She stood as he set it down, looking to Jon, who
nodded in confirmation before she slowly moved towards it. Clegane
unbarred and lifted the lid of the surprisingly quiet box and Yelena frowned
when nothing happened. The wight couldn't be dead, could it? He kicked the
box over, and suddenly it charged, straight at Cersei. Yelena leapt forward,
grabbing the chain and yanking it back mere seconds before the monster got
to the queen. She smirked when it turned on her, dropping the chain and
drawing a blade of regular steel before hacking it off at the legs when it
charged. Even chopped in half, it continued to writhe and scream, reaching
out for the princess, who only kicked it away, sending it's hand flying.

Jon took a torch from Davos and lit it, picking up the hand too. "We can
destroy them by burning them." it shrieked as its hand went up in flames.

"And we can destroy them with dragonglass." Yelena pulled her dagger from
her belt, kneeling as she prepared to sink it into the wight's back, grabbing it
by the iron collar to keep it from getting her.

"If we don't win this fight, then that," Jon pointed to the wight. "Is the fate of
every person in the world." Yelena struck, killing the monster. She could see
the horror and fear in her mother's eyes, wondering if she must be the worst
daughter in the world to be pleased at that. "There is only one war that
matters... the Great War. And it is here."

"I didn't believe it until I saw them." Daenerys spoke up. "I saw them all."

"How many?" Jamie looked to her, brows furrowed with worry.

"A hundred thousand at least."

Euron stood, approaching the body, but careful not to get too close to Yelena,
who still wielded a dagger. "Can they swim?"
She shook her head. "No."

"Good." he looked at Cersei. "I'm taking the Iron Fleet back to the Iron
Islands."

"What are you talking about?" the queen demanded, her voice shaking
slightly.

"I've been around the world. I've seen everything, things you couldn't
imagine, and this... this is the only thing I've ever seen that terrifies me." he
turned to Daenerys. "I'm going back to my island. You should go back to
yours. When winter's over, we'll be the only ones left alive." and then he
strode off.

"He's right to be afraid." Cersei said. "And a coward to run. If those things
come for us, there'll be no kingdoms to rule. Everything we suffered will
have been for nothing. Everything we lost will have been for nothing."
Yelena knew she must have been thinking of Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen.
She nodded slightly. "The crown accepts your truce. Until the dead are
defeated, they are the true enemy. On the condition that the King in the
North will extend this truce. He will remain in the North where he belongs.
He will not take up arms against the Lannisters. He will not choose sides...
and my daughter will be safely returned to me."

Yelena's head snapped up. She shot to her feet, shaking her head as her
breathing quickened. Flashes of everything she'd worked so hard to escape
flashed through her mind. "I won't- I won't-"

A hand taking her own brought her back to reality, and she looked up to see a
pair of kind brown eyes gazing reassuringly at her. She took a breath, and Jon
looked back to Cersei. "Queen Daenerys is our queen. The rightful queen.
And Princess Yelena is not property. She will go where she wishes."

Her mother's eyes settled on her, her expression sour and a little sad. "It was
him wasn't it? I knew you'd fallen for with someone else when you were
betrothed to that Stark boy, but a bastard?"

The princess's eyes narrowed. "Says the queen who fucked her brother and
killed a good man to put their bastard on the throne." she spat. "I will not be
kept locked away in the Red Keep like a child any longer. I will go North. I
will take my bannermen with me. And when this is done, you will lose
everything." And then she turned and stormed out. She was done with that
woman.

***

She seethed for a while at her mother's request, until she realised that
seething was pointless; it didn't matter what Cersei wanted because she
wasn't getting it. Instead, Yelena focused on the meeting in the war room
back on Dragonstone, watching the little pieces on the table as though they
held the answers to her every problem.

"If we have the Dothraki ride hard on the kingsroad," Jon was saying.
"They'll arrive at Winterfell within the fortnight."

"And the Unsullied?" Daenerys asked.

"We can sail with them to White Harbor, meet the Dothraki here on the
kingsroad, then ride together to Winterfell."

"Perhaps you should fly to Winterfell, Your Grace." Jorah suggested. "You
have many enemies in the North. Thousands fell fighting your father. All it
takes is one angry man with a crossbow. He'll see your silver hair on the
kingsroad and know that one well-placed bolt will make him a hero; the man
who killed the conqueror."

"It is your decision, Your Grace," Yelena spoke up. "But coming from
someone who's been the unfamiliar southerner in the North before, it'll make
a better impression if you ride with us. The Northerners don't trust outsiders
too much. If we're going to be allies, it'll be good for them to see us that
way."

The queen considered that a moment before speaking. "I've not come to
conquer the North. I'm coming to save the North." she looked to her friend, a
tiny smile on her lips. "We sail together." Yelena returned the smile.
As She, Jon and Davos were exiting the throne room, a voice called out
behind them. "Jon." It was Theon. "Can I speak with you?"

Jon nodded at the two, and they exited, leaving the two to speak.

"Seems like you've grown closer with the queen as of late." Davos observed
as they walked down the halls.

Yelena smiled a bit. "We're a lot alike. We understand each other better than
most people would, living in a world that tells women they can't this and they
can't that... we've suffered many of the same fates, faced many of the same
struggles. I respect that.

"And you both hate Cersei."

She laughed as they reached their rooms. "True enough." When she turned to
her door, she hesitated. "Ser Davos."

"Princess?"

"You've been a good knight. A good friend. I never thanked you for it before,
nor for all you've done for me. Thank you."

He nodded, smiling. "It is my pleasure, my lady."

***

Yelena looked through her window on the ship, feeling the waves break
against the surface beneath her. Her eyes drifted over the stars glittering in
the sky as she imagined what in the world could possess her mother to
actually align herself with the dragon queen. Not that she was opposed to an
alliance, but it felt like Cersei gave in too easily. Though if what Tyrion had
told her was true, a dead man had just nearly torn an unborn child from the
queen's belly. She supposed that was more than enough to rattle her mother...

She heard a soft knock at her door, breaking through her thoughts. She stood,
opening it to find Jon on the other side. She blinked, their eyes finding one
another's, and she understood. She stepped back, allowing him in, and he shut
the door behind her. Later while he slept, her head resting on his chest, she
wondered how they'd come so far from that night in the Winterfell courtyard,
the first time she'd ever kissed him. The things people did for love...
 cẦaẮtez tẦiztặ ~ zẦaegal

THERE WERE HUNDREDS OF ONLOOKERS AS THY RODE

THROUGH THE NORTH TO WINTERFELL, everyone watching in awe
or fear or both as the Unsullied and Dothraki overtook the road, the King of
the North riding amongst them. Daenerys and her horse took the lead, with
Jon and Yelena side-by-side just behind her.

"I warned you." Yelena called softly up to Daenerys as the queen took in the
wary stares. "Northerners aren't keen on trusting outsiders."

A roar suddenly split the air, causing gasps and shouts as the people looked to
the skies to find Drogon and Rhaegal soaring overhead. A few people began
to panic as Drogon swooped low before both flew straight for Winterfell,
climbing higher and higher until they flew straight up over the castle.

When they came through the gates, Yelena's eyes flew straight to the
wheelchair-bound figure next to Sansa. Jon sped up and the princess
followed close behind, watching with a smile as he hugged his brother,
smiling. "Look at you. You're a man."

"Almost." Bran's voice was calm, and the look on Jon's face made Yelena
want to laugh, but instead, she strode forward, wrapping Bran in a hug of her
own.

She smiled as she pulled back. "I missed you." she followed his gaze to
Daenerys as Jon hugged Sansa.

"Where's Arya?" he asked.

A little smile appeared on Sansa's face. "Lurking somewhere." She too was
watching the dragon queen carefully.

Finally, the other woman approached. "Queen Daenerys of House

Targaryen." Jon said by way of introduction. "My sister, Sansa Stark, the
Lady of Winterfell."

"Thank you for inviting us into your home, Lady Stark." Daenerys smiled.
"The North is as beautiful as your brother claimed, as are you."

Sansa's smile looked rather forced now, and there was mistrust in her eyes.
"Winterfell is yours, Your Grace." she looked to Yelena. "Princess, your
bannermen have arrived. Lord Swann was not the only one to answer your
call. Lord Estermont has come, as has Lord Connington. They brought us
men and food." Yelena's eyes lit with a spark of hopefulness at that.

"We don't have time for all this." Bran interrupted. "The Night King has your
dragon. He's one of them now." the queen's brows furrowed. "The Wall has
fallen, the dead march south."

Yelena continued to watch the boy, but Jon's worried and confused eyes were
on Sansa now. What happened to him all those years nobody saw?

***

In the Hall, Jon sat at the head table, Sansa on his right, Yelena on his left,
and Daenerys on her left.

"As soon as we heard about the Wall, I called all our banners to retreat to
Winterfell." Sansa announced. "Lord Umber!" the young boy stood, stepping
forward. "When can we expect your people to arrive?"

His face was solemn. "We need more horses and wagons, if it please my
lady." he frowned. "And... my lord." He blinked at Daenerys. "And my
queen. Sorry."

"You'll have as many as we can spare." Sansa told him. "Princess

Baratheon?"

Yelena nodded. "Lord Connington, your people are known for their many
great steeds. Will you spare some for us?"

Lord Connignton rose, looking slightly uncomfortable surrounded by

northern lords in this cold place, but he nodded. "We have many horses, my
princess. You will have as many as needed."

She smiled a bit. "Thank you, my lord." she gave Sansa a nod.

Sansa looked back to Lord Umber. "Hurry back to Last Hearth and bring
your people here."

"Lord Connington, if you will." at the princess's command, the Lord turned,
following the little Lord Umber out.

"We need to send raven's to the Night's Watch as well." Jon pointed out.
"There's no sense in manning the castles anymore. We make our stand here."

The maester bowed. "At once, Your Grace."

""Your Grace"." Lady Lyanna scowled as she stood. "But you're not, are
you? You left Winterfell a king and came back a..." she raised her brows.
"I'm not sure what you are now." murmurs began to weave through the room
as she continued. "A lord? Nothing at all?"

Jon shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "It's not important."

"Not important?" her voice took on a hard tone. "We named you King in the
North." shouts of agreement rang out.

He sighed. "You did, my lady. It was the honour of my life. I'll always be
grateful for your faith." he stood. "But when I left Winterfell, I told you we
need allies or we will die. I have brought those allies home to fight alongside
us. I had a choice! Keep my crown, or protect the North. I chose the North."

When murmurs filled the room once more, it was Tyrion who stood. "If
anyone survives the war to come, we'll have Jon Snow to thank. He risked his
life to show us the threat is real. Thanks to his courage, we have brought with
us the greatest army the world has ever seen. We have brought two full-
grown dragons. And soon the Lannister army will... ride north to join our
cause." Shouting began to rise up again. "I know, I know! Our people haven't
been friends in the past. But we must fight together now... or die."
"May I ask," Sansa intervened. "How are we meant to feed the greatest army
the world has ever seen? While I ensured our stores would last through
winter, I didn't account for Dothraki, Unsullied and two full grown dragons."
her tone was clipped, short. "What do dragons eat, anyway?"

Daenerys's gaze was cool. "Whatever they want." The girls' eyes met in hard
stares and Yelena had a feeling this would be a very tiring alliance.

***

"Alright, I want you taking dragonglass down to the forges. You, watching
the South Gate. Any Lannister banners show up on the horizon you come to
me first. Not the queen, not Lord Snow, and not Lady Stark. Understand?"
She sent off men in groups of half a dozen to a dozen to carry out their tasks
as best they could in this foreign place.

"Yes, my princess."

"As for you lot, I will speak to the queen about the Dothraki leaving your
horses alone. There is a language barrier, but try to keep it peaceful for now."

"Princess Yelena, Lord Tyrion has sent for you to speak at nightfall in the
Hall."

"Thank you, Maester Ellion."

"Yelena." she turned at the sound of Jon's voice to see him walking towards
her with a familiar face alongside him.

"Arya!" the younger girl rushed forward, the two becoming wrapped up in a
hug. "Gods, I missed you."

She smiled. "I missed you too, princess."

Yelena chuckled. "You got tall."

"You got short." Both girls laughed, and Jon Snow couldn't help but smile at
their reunion.
Yelena knew that the Northerners didn't like any of the outsiders, but she
felt a pang of guilt when she realised that included the kind-hearted
Missandei.
And so it was that she tried to spend some more time getting to know the
other woman, and even learning a bit from her about the languages of the
foreign armies.

Days later, Yelena walked about the camps outside the walls of Winterfell
with Jon and Daenerys, once again overseeing operations. Their conversation
cut short when Daenerys noticed several Dothraki riding towards them. She
strode over, uttering a few words in Dothraki that seemed to form a question.
The lead rider replied, looking neither pleased, nor unhappy, but the queen
seemed distressed when they left.

Yelena frowned. "What is it?"

"The dragons are barely eating."

When they reached the huge beasts, Yelena could see the ground littered with
charred bones around them. The dragons seemed pleased to have company
though.

"What's wrong with them?" Jon asked as Daenerys reached out to stroke
Drogon's snout.

"They don't like the North." she told him, watching her child with concerned
eyes. Rhaegal leaned towards Jon and Yelena, who obligingly pet him. As
they watched, the silver-haired queen climbed onto the red dragon's back,
smiling down at her friends. "Go on."

Yelena blinked up at her in shock, her mouth slowly forming an awed smile
at the realisation that the queen was offering them a flight.

"I don't know how to ride a dragon." Jon pointed out.

"Nobody does. Until they ride a dragon."

"What if he doesn't want me to?" he worried.

The queen's tone was amused when she replied. "Then I've enjoyed your
company."

Yelena grabbed his hand, a smile on her face as she pulled him along to
Rhaegal's scaly side. She managed to climb it quite easily, biting back a laugh
when Jon struggled his way up behind the princess.

"What do I hold onto??" he cried.

Daenerys shrugged. "Whatever you can."

Yelena took hold of the spines, and Jon took hold of Yelena, praying to all
the gods that she wouldn't let them fall off as the dragon lifted into the sky.
Drogon followed whilst Jon nearly fell off and took the princess with him.
"Try the spikes!" she called back. He obeyed, taking a firm grip on the
dragon's large spikes instead. He let out a breath of relief as he found better
balance, smiling as he listened to Yelena's joyful laughter at Rhaegal's
swoops and dives, as they flew alongside Dany. It was nice to see her truly
happy again.

***

Later that day, Yelena was headed to her room when she ran into a man she'd
never met before.

"Oh, excuse me, I-" his eyes widened. "You're Princess Yelena Baratheon!
The Call of the Wolf??"

She chuckled. "I guess I am. And who might you be, my lord?"

"Oh, I'm no lord. Samwell Tarly, brother of the Night's Watch, my princess."
He gave a little bow.

Yelena smiled as she recognised the name. "Samwell Tarly? Jon told me
about you. It's lovely to finally meet you."

He nodded. "And you, my princess. But, ah, if I could be excused?"

She quickly nodded. "Oh, of course."

She stepped aside, and he passed, giving another small smile. "Thank you."

The princess did not expect the summons that came later, but when she sat by
Jon's side at the head table of the Hall, it was far more surprising to see her
Uncle Jamie standing before them.

"When I was a child," Daenerys began. "My brother would tell me a bedtime
story... about the man who murdered our father. Who stabbed him in the back
and cut his throat. Who sat down on the Iron Throne and watched as his
blood poured onto the floor." Yelena could see the regret and guilt on Jamie's
face, plain as day. "He told me other stories as well. About all the things we
would do to that man... once we took back the Seven Kingdoms and had him
in our grasp." she watched him with angry eyes as Yelena bit her lip. "But
my father was an evil man. My brother was an evil man. I will not be the
new monster lurking inside nightmares. Your sister pledged to send her army
north."

"She did." Jamie said finally.

"I don't see an army. I see one man. With one hand. It appears your sister lied
to me."

His gaze flickered from the queen, to Tyrion and back to the queen. "She lied
to me as well." he sighed, shaking his head. "She never had any intention of
sending her army north. She has Euron Greyjoy's fleet and twenty-thousand
fresh troops; the golden company from Essos, bought and paid for. Even if
we defeat the dead, she'll have more than enough to destroy the survivors."

""We"?" Daenerys arched a brow.

He frowned. "I promised to fight for the living. I intend to keep that
promise."

As the queen continued to glare, it was Tyrion who stepped forward. "Your
Grace, I know my brother-"

"Like you knew your sister?"

"He came here, knowing full-well how he'd be received. Why would he do
that if he weren't telling the truth?"

"Perhaps he trusts his little brother to defend him." she watched the
dwarf sourly.

"You're right, we can't trust him." Sansa agreed. "He attacked my father in
the streets. He tried to destroy my house and my family, the same as he did
yours."

"You want me to apologise?" Jamie demanded. "I won't. We were at war.

Everything I did, I did for my house and my family. I'd do it all again."

"The things we do for love." Bran's voice brought silence to the room as
everyone turned to hear what the three-eyed raven had to say.

"So why have you abandoned your house and your family now?" Daenerys
demanded.

"He hasn't." Yelena said softly. Shocked stares turned to her now. "And he
won't ever again. Ser Jamie of House Lannister, we share blood and bond. I
trusted you with my training , even trusted you with my life once. Would you
pledge yourself to your niece, the last rightful bearer of the Baratheon name
and fight for me?"

The room seemed to hold its breath in waiting as Jamie's surprised and
grateful eyes locked on Yelena's firm, but kind ones. "Yes." he knelt, as the
sword he would have pledged had been taken upon his arrival. "I pledge
myself to you, my niece by blood and bond, Princess Yelena Baratheon.
Though they call me Oathbreaker I will not break this vow until the day I
die."

She nodded once. "Then rise, Knight of the Baratheon banners, Ser Jamie
Lannister, my honoured guard and knight."

The queen did not seem pleased, but she was no longer the one deciding his
fate. He would not be her soldier anymore. She looked to Yelena, who
offered a reassuring nod, and her expression became calmer as she sighed.
"Very well." she nodded to Grey Worm, who returned Jamie's sword to him.
Tyrion let out a breath, thanking Yelena with his eyes.

"Thank you, Your Grace." the knight bowed and Daenerys stood. The
meeting was officially adjourned.

***

"You just saved me and you want me to not repay you?? Not to mention you
made me your Kingsguard - or whatever you want to call it - which means
I'm meant to stay with you and protect you."

Yelena sighed as she strode across the high walkways outside, her uncle right
behind her. "You don't need to repay me." she told him again. "I meant what I
said; you saved my life when you helped me in King's Landing and since
your family is currently very divided, you haven't abandoned your family."
she came to a stop, watching over some of the Swann men below. "Besides, I
can protect myself."

Jamie frowned. "So what am I meant to do then?"

"Whatever you can to prepare for the Long Night. It's entirely possible that
every last one of us will die. Anything we can do to get further from that
possibility, we should be doing. Perhaps you should speak to Bran, as you've
been wanting to do... or head out to the training area." she grinned. "I hear
Lady Brienne is out there." and then she strode off, leaving her uncle to
wonder at how much his niece had grown... and how in the hells she knew.

***

"Ser Berin! I want you and ten other men checking the dragonglass spikes on
the parapets." Yelena was currently busy working with one of the Estermont
knights.

"But we've already checked them, my princess."

She shot him a slightly irritated look. "Then check them again. If the dead
take the field, the castle is all we have left. You. Ten others. Now."
"Yes, my princess. Apologies."

"Ah, Lord Swann."

"Princess Yelena." he inclined his head.

"Have some of your troops watching the south. I want to know if our men are
going to be surrounded."

"Of course, my princess." and off he went.

"Command looks good on you."

Yelena turned with a smile at hearing Jon's voice. "Well, I like it a lot better
when I'm not wearing delicate dresses and being told by old men to put the
sword down."

He chuckled. "I'm glad. And I'm very glad that the southern lords agree."

She gave a little sigh, looking around. "Not all. House Selmy and House
Dondarrion refused the call."

"You still managed to call on three of five strong families. They know you're
the one they owe allegiance to, woman or not. You're doing good."

She smiled, linking their fingers loosely. "Thanks, Lord Snow." Jon groaned
as he cursed his younger self for all the times he'd called her 'princess'
growing up and Yelena giggled.

Both their heads snapped around at the sound of a horn; the Night's Watch.
They both ran through the archway, stopping when they saw Edd, who
wrapped Sam in a hug. Jon started forward, and Yelena followed behind,
letting out a laugh when Tormund tackled him from the side in a hug,
surprising Jon and nearly knocking him to the ground. The wildling laughed.
"My little crow."

"I thought we'd lost you." Jon breathed, clearly relieved.

"Almost." His face split into a wide smile when he saw Yelena. "Ah, it's the
little southern lady!" He wrapped her in a bear hug, which she returned with a
grin, glad her friend was safe.

"It's princess, actually." she snarked playfully, making him chuckle.

Jon pulled away from his hug with Edd, and they looked around at one
another. "How did you find each other?" he asked.

"We met up at Last Hearth." Edd told him.

"The dead got there first." Tormund warned.

Yelena's brows drew together as she remembered the young lord. "And the
Umbers?"

Beric sighed. "Fighting for the Night King now."

"We had to travel around them to get here." the ginger wildling added.
"Whoever's not here now is with them."

"How long do we have?" Jon asked.

"Before the sun comes up tomorrow." After a moment of tense silence,

Tormund looked around. "The big woman still here?"
 cẦaẮtez tẦiztặ-one ~ tẦe long
nigẦt

YELENA STOOD AROUND THE WAR TABLE WITH THE LORDS,

knights, commanders, pretty much any trusted advisor and the queen.

"They're coming." Jon told them. "We have dragonglass and Valyrian steel.
But there are too many of them. Far too many. Our enemy doesn't tire.
Doesn't stop. Doesn't feel." he sighed. "We can't beat them in a straight
fight."

"So what can we do?" Jamie asked.

"The Night King made them all. They follow his command. If he falls...
getting to him may be our best chance."

"If that's true, he'll never expose himself." the knight pointed out.

"Yes he will." Once again everyone turned, intrigued by the warg's point of
view. "He'll come for me. He's tried before many times, with many Three-
Eyed Ravens."

"Why?" Sam asked. "What does he want?"

"An endless night. He wants to erase this world, and I am its memory."

"That's what death is, isn't it?" realised the Night's Watch brother.
"Forgetting. Being forgotten. If we forget where we've been and what we've
done, we're not men anymore. Just animals." he looked back to Bran. "your
memories don't come from books. Your stories aren't just stories. If I wanted
to erase the world of men, I'd start with you."

Tyrion's brow was furrowed. "How will he find you?"

"His mark is on me." Bran lifted his sleeve to reveal what looked like a burn
in the shape of fingers. "He always knows where I am."

Jon nodded. "We'll put you in the crypt, where it's safest."

"No. We need to lure him into the open before his army destroys us all. I'll
wait for him in the Godswood."

"You want us to use you as bait?" Sansa asked disbelievingly.

"We're not leaving you alone out there." Arya said.

"He won't be." Everyone looked at Theon. "I'll stay with him. With the
Ironborn." His gaze shifted from the table to Bran. "I took this castle from
you. Let me defend you now."

Bran nodded, and Ser Davos directed his attention back to the battle plans.
"We'll hold off the rest of them for as long as we can."

"When the time comes," Tyrion said. "Ser Davos and I will be on top of the
walls to give you the signal to light the trench."

"Bet you wish you had some wildfire now." Yelena sighed, and her uncle
made a face in agreement.

"Ser Davos is perfectly capable of waving a torch on his own." Daenerys

interjected. "You'll be in the crypt."

The dwarf pursed his lips. "Your Grace, I have fought before, I can do it
again. Alongside the men and women risking their lives."

"There are thousands of them and only one of you. You can't fight as well as
they can, but you can think better of any of them. You're here because of your
mind. If we survive, I'll need it." After a second of hesitation, he nodded.

"The dragons should give us an edge in the field." Davos said.

"If they're in the field, they're not protecting Bran." Jon argued. "We need to
be near him. Not too near or the Night King won't come. But close enough to
pursue him when he does."

"And the dragonfire will stop him?" Yelena asked, looking to the boy.

"I don't know." Bran said simply. "No one's ever tried."

Tormund huffed a breath. "We're all going to die."

Yelena's lips twitched. "I can think of worse places to die, worse company to
die with."

"Let's get some rest." Jon suggested quietly. When everyone filed out, Yelena
slipped her hand into his, coming up onto her tip-toes to place a kiss on his
cheek before leaving as well.

Back in her room, Yelena sat on her floor by the window, her fingers stroking
absentmindedly through Lishay's fur as she softly hummed the lullaby her
mother used to sing to her. The wolf was huge by now, as big as a horse at
least, her head taking up the entirety of the princess's lap. She wondered if
Lishay would let Yelena ride her. She leaned her head back against the wall,
her eyes fluttering gently shut as the lullaby's memory washed over her.

The little princess was wandering the halls alone as she often did, gazing up
at the paintings, windows and doorways that seemed so far beyond reach for
such a small girl. She knew she should be sleeping. It was past her bedtime
already, but she could hear patters of rain on the window, and it was such a
pretty sound she had to tell her mommy. She found her before long, sitting
before a fire with a blanket across her lap and a goblet of wine on the small
table beside her.

"Mummy!" Her mother turned, surprised at the sound of her daughter's

voice, but smiling at the sight of her nonetheless.

"Oh, sweet little cub. What are you doing awake?"

"Rain mummy! It sounds like music."

The queen chuckled. "It is a lovely sound, isn't it my sweet?"

Yelena sat on the bottom of the blanket, giggling up at her mother, who
smiled fondly down at the little girl. A crack of thunder sounded suddenly,
making the child scream and bringing tears to her eyes.

"Oh, my darling..." Cersei reached down to pick her up, pulling the princess
into her lap and wrapping the blanket around her. "Shh, there's nothing to be
afraid of. You're safe with mummy. It's all part of the music."

Yelena blinked, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "It is?"

Her mother nodded. "Listen..." and she began to sing softly.

"High in the halls of the kings who are gone,

Jenny would dance with her ghosts,

The ones she had lost and the ones she had found,

And the ones who had loved her the most,

The ones who'd been gone for so very long,

She couldn't remember their names,

They spun her around on the damp old stones,

Spun away all her sorrow and pain,

And she never wanted to leave,

Never wanted to leave,

Never wanted to leave,

Never wanted to leave,

Never wanted to leave,"

She heard a small whining growl as Lishay nudged her head on Yelena's lap.
She smiled softly down at the wolf, stroking her soft black ears as she tried
not to cry. She remembered very clearly the days when her mother had been
everything to her, the one she wanted to follow, to take after until the day she
died. But there had been so much she didn't know. Even so it was impossible
to claim that Cersei hadn't been a good mother. Yelena's mind suddenly
recalled another memory, one she hadn't thought about in years, when her
mother had told her about her twin brother, how he'd died as a baby. She
wondered if perhaps she would meet him tonight...

A horn blast jolted her out of the thought. She and Lishay sprang to their feet
in unison, and she pressed her forehead to the wolf's. "I love you girl." She
murmured. "Try not to die on me." When she opened the door, Lishay ran
out to take her place beside Ghost on the field. Yelena snatched up her sword
belt, strapping on Heosphoros and her dagger and pulling on her gloves.
When she reached the top of the wall, Jon and Dany were just getting there.
They couldn't see the army in the dark, but they could smell frozen flesh,
rotting flesh. They could hear the lumbering rhythm of the march. The three
shared a look, Daenerys looking confusingly angry, but they moved out
nonetheless to fly out to their post atop the cliff. The Long Night had come. It
was time to defend against it.

From their post atop the cliff, Yelena could see the armies gathered below,
the Dothraki, the Unsullied, the Northerners, the Southerners, all of them.
She looked to her left to see Jon and Daenerys watching as well. She wasn't
sure why, but the air between them was so thick with tension she could have
sliced it with a blade.

Out of the darkness below them, a single rider approached, stopping before
the Dothraki. Though she couldn't see much from up here, what Yelena
could see was the distinct and unique colour of the woman's hair. She sucked
in a sharp breath. "Melisandre." she growled. All at once, the swords of the
Dothraki burst into flames like the one Beric carried. Yelena blinked in
shock. She had hoped to never see the woman again unless she was cutting
her down... but perhaps with a fire witch on their side, they might stand a
chance after all.

The Dothraki charged, screaming for battle as they did, a sea of stars rushing
forward across the snow. The flaming cannonballs were lit and launched. It
may have been war, but it was still a sight to behold. And then the lights
stopped moving forward, as though they'd hit something solid. The Army of
the Dead. She watched as the lights dwindled and then disappeared entirely.
Some horses and men came running back, but far fewer than had gone out.
Far too few. When Daenerys turned to head back to the dragons, Jon stopped
her.

"The Night King is coming." he told her.

She only glared. "The dead are already here." She returned to Drogon.

Yelena looked at Jon, giving him a questioning frown. What in all the
seven hells was going on with them. He just shook his head. "Later." he
muttered. She nodded, and with a sigh, they both made their way over to
Rhaegal.

They lifted off, and when the dead collided with the living, wreaked fiery
distinction on the wights alongside Daenerys. Yelena sat behind the dragon's
horns where an order to fire would be clearly audible while Jon sat near the
base of the Dragon's neck to steer. Below them, Yelena saw the walkers
standing in line at the edge of the forest. Behind them whirled a heavy storm,
rushing forward to quickly encase both dragons. Even so, they continued to
fire on the dead when they could. As the snow thickened, it was clearly
becoming harder for Rhaegal to see, flying through trees and nearly throwing
off both his riders before another dragon appeared suddenly before them and
the two crashed. Drogon and Rhaegal both managed to right themselves and
keep flying, Yelena Jon and Daenerys desperately trying not to be thrown. As
they watched below, the soldiers began to retreat into the castle.

"Dany!" Yelena called, hoping she could hear. The girl readjusted her grip on
the dragon, and Jon steered them back towards the castle, landing on one of
the walls around the Godswood. Not long after, the trenches flared to life
suddenly below them and Yelena's eyes found the Red Woman once more,
the one responsible for saving them in the Long Night yet again, just as she'd
predicted when she was banished. The princess huffed, hating to admit that
Shireen's murderer was right. Jon and Yelena stayed where they were,
protecting Bran, but beyond the trenches the queen now had very clear
targets, and she didn't miss her chance to burn them.
The wall of fire worked for a time, keeping the dead away from the castle,
but then she watched as a few moved forward. They burned, but were
quickly followed by others. They did this all at the exact same points in the
fire, and it didn't take her long to see what they were doing; they were putting
the flames out, creating safe passage for the dead behind them. She turned to
meet Jon's eyes, then moved her attention back to the scene below, but then
she heard it; the flapping of giant wings. Dany and Drogon were in the field.
This wasn't them. She looked up to see the beast descending. There were
holes in its wings, but that didn't seem to bother Viserion in the least. Not
with the Night King on his back. He stared them down a moment, before
urging the dragon up higher into the clouds. Jon didn't hesitate to have
Rhaegal follow as Yelena leaned down behind the ruff of the dragon's neck,
hoping to buffer the winds. She held on tight as they rode higher and higher...
and then suddenly they were above the clouds. The star-filled sky stretched
out in every direction above them, the clouds soft whorls below them, the
moon shining crystalline around them as Dany came through with them. It
was beautiful. But it was also terrifying. There was no sign of Viserion or the
Night King; no movement, no noises, nothing but the beating of two sets of
wings and three people breathing heavily in anticipation and fear. And then a
blast of blue flame shot by them, nearly hitting Rhaegal and making him veer
sharply away. Yelena cried out as she was nearly thrown, grasping the
dragon's spikes desperately. When he righted himself, she was able to regain
her seating and footing again, letting out a breath of relief. But it was very
short lived. The Night King was chasing Daenerys down, Viserion breathing
his blue flame up his brother's back, both dragons shrieking. Rhaegal dove
then, making his riders cling tightly to him as the wind whistled sharply by.
Drogon followed closely, both of them leaving their undead brother behind.
They dove through thick clouds until they reached another level of calm in
the sky, full of moonlight and clarity. And then they dove again, back down
into the storm to rejoin the battle.

Yelena watched in horror as one of Winterfell's walls and towers crumbled

under blue fire. And then the impact hit; Rhaegal smashing into his blue-
eyed brother and the dragons began to battle it out in the sky. The princess
had to duck and dodge every time Viserion snapped at Rhaegal's neck, riding
in the place closest to where the large teeth came down. A small scream fell
from her lips as the end of Viserion's nose knocked her from her place,
leaving her
hanging on for dear life as her feet dangled over the landscape of fire and
dead men below.

"Yelena!" she whipped her head around to see Jon watching her in horror as
she attempted to haul herself back up.

"It's okay!" she called back, not sounding okay at all. She was struggling and
afraid, and she could hear it in her own voice. The thrashing of the dragons
was not helping. She continued to hold on desperately, but it was no use. She
cried out as her grip failed her, and she plunged towards the ground below.

"YELENA!!!"

She was certain she would die on impact, but she found herself falling
through the foliage of snow-covered trees, and when she connected with the
ground she'd suffered nothing more than a few scratches and maybe a
cracked rib, but her adrenaline dulled the pain as she leapt back to her feet,
checking that her dagger and sword were still by her sides. She'd fallen just
outside one of the courtyards, and she could hear the clashing of steel inside,
and so in she charged, both blades drawn. She took the first three wights by
surprise, cutting them down like paper, but the others knew she was there
now. Still, she fought with fury and strength, whirling and slashing like a
storm, the dead hardly ever even touching her. She fought and fought and
fought for her life until she realised she was cutting down men alongside
Jamie and Brienne, and a new sort of motivation fuelled her. Until the dead
rose. She froze, watching with utter disbelief and horror as every wight that
had been slain and every living man who'd died opened their bright blue eyes
and stood. She felt her heart shrink into a cold little stone and fall to the pit
of her stomach. There was no winning this. There were too many, and the
dead just kept rising. Still she fought. Hard. She didn't know for how long,
but she did know she couldn't see Jamie or Brienne or Tormund or any of her
friends anymore. She stumbled, and fell, but kept swinging her sword, killing
the dead. And she realised too late what was happening; she was being
buried.
She hadnt had the chance to stand and the wights she killed were beginning
to cover her and weigh her down. Finally the last one jumped at her and she
skewered it on her sword, but everything was dark. She was entirely covered
now, and she didn't know how she could get out or even which way was up.
Her one saving grace was that she could still breathe just fine.
**Jon POV**

The battle was won. The dead were defeated. But Jon was still terrified. He
hadn't seen Yelena since she'd fallen from Rhaegal. Jamie and Brienne had
seen her fighting, assuring him that the fall hadn't killed her or even crippled
her, but where was she now? With every second that passed the fear became
more and more crushing. He wanted to believe that this was all for nothing,
that he'd go to see the healers and find her sitting there, waiting for him, but
he knew it wasn't true. He knew her as well as she knew him; if she was
alive, she was looking for him. He whirled suddenly towards the sound of
Tormund's voice calling his name.

"I think I found her!" Wasting no time, he sprinted into the courtyard to see
Tormund and Jamie pulling a slender figure from beneath a pile of fallen
wights. His heart froze and then she moved, rolling onto her back with a
cough as her uncle pulled her into an embrace.

"Yelena!" he rushed forwards, coming down to his knees beside her.

"Jon." her voice hiccuped with a half-sob of relief as she lunged forward into
his arms. He caught her easily, holding her close to him as she shook ever so
slightly. He didn't care in that moment who was watching them. All that
mattered was that she was safe. He buried his face in her hair, unsure of who
was comforting who, but not really caring either. They'd survived the Long
Night together. It was over.
 cẦaẮtez tẦiztặ-tœo ~ sozzoœs anд
zeẴels

**Yelena POV**

YELENA STOOD BY THE SIDE OF LITTLE LYANNA MORMONT,

a single tear slipping down her cheek. She'd had so much fire, so much
potential, and she'd been stolen from them. The princess places a single
wildflower in Lyanna's hand, leaning down to whisper to her. "You lied to
me. You did grow to be beautiful. Bring this with you as a reminder of the
great warrior whose beauty shone from within." she bit her lip. "It's time to
go see your mother now." her voice choked up slightly. "I'm sure she's
missed you." She stood up straight, forcing herself to take a deep breath
before returning to the others.

Jon stepped forward. "We're here to say goodbye to our brothers and sisters."
his voice echoed across the crowd and the pyres of the dead. "To our fathers
and mothers. To our friends. Our fellow men and women who set aside their
differences... to fight together... and die together so that others might live.
Everyone in this world owes them a debt that can never be repaid. It is our
duty and our honour to keep them alive in memory... for those who come
after us... and those who come after them... for as long as men draw breath."
Yelena bit her lip, willing her breathing to come evenly. "They were the
shields that guarded the realms of men. And we shall never see their light
again."

Several people, including Sansa, Arya, Daenerys, Jon and Yelena took up
torches. She clenched her teeth as she moved with them to her place beside a
pyre, and in sync with the others, lit it aflame. They returned to their places,
and she watched the flames and smoke rise, filling the air with the stench of
death. But it was a smell she was well accustomed to by now, barely
affecting her. She almost wished it would. The distraction would be a mercy.
Back in her room, Yelena lay on her bed, her arms around Lishay's neck and
her face buried in the direwolf's fur like a pillow. She'd come back to the
princess with only a few small scratches and a larger one on her muzzle, but
other than that she was okay. Not everyone had been so lucky. Lord Swann
had a broken leg, and Lord Coran had perished, leaving his sixteen-year-old
son Julian as the new Lord Estermont. Lord Connington was alright,
thankfully. Yelena let out a groan at the sound of the door opening, the noise
slightly muffled by wolf fur.

"I'm glad she's alright."

She rolled over to look at Jon with a small, tired smile. "Yeah, she's a tough
one. How's Ghost? I saw his ear."

He nodded. "He'll be alright. I don't think he's really even noticed." He sat
down on the edge of the bed, gently scratching between the black wolf's ears.
"How are you?"

She blinked. "Me? Just great. I fell off a dragon, fought dead men, almost
drowned in dead bodies and buried a friend of twelve." She sat up with a
sigh, staring hollowly at the wall across from her. "I'll be fine." she
murmured. "It's just a lot."

Jon huffed a small sound resembling a laugh, reaching over to tuck a strand
of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, it is. But we both made it."

She gave a soft smile, slipping her hand in his. "We did."

***

In the Hall that night, Yelena was slowly becoming overwhelmed by the
tension. Sitting right between Jon and Dany, she was slapped with the brunt
of whatever the hell was going on between them - which she still needed to
ask Jon about.

Finally the silence was broken when Yelena's brother walked by. "Gendry."
the queen called. He turned to look at her. "That's right, isn't it?"
He nodded as he slowly moved to stand before her. "Yes, Your Grace."

"You're Robert Baratheon's son." the princess froze at that, but when he
looked to her with a tiny flash of panic in his eyes, she gave a little reassuring
nod. She wasn't going to let anything happen. He nodded again. "You were
aware he took my family's throne and tried to have me murdered?" Though
the words were harsh, her tone was not. She sounded only curious as to how
much he knew of his family's history.

"I didn't even know he was my father until after he was dead."

She nodded. "Yes, he's dead. His brothers are too. So who's lord of Storm's
End now?" A stab of shock hit Yelena hard. There was no way... Dany
couldn't possibly...

"I don't know, Your Grace."

"Does anyone?" The room was silent, a few pairs of eyes drifting over to the
princess, but she kept her gaze locked on the patterns in the wood of the
table, her jaw clenched. Daenerys's eyes turned back to the young man. "I
think it should be you."

He seemed at a loss for words for a moment. "I-I can't be, I'm a bastard." he
told her.

"No. You are Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm's End, the lawful son of
Robert Baratheon. Because that is what I have made you."

The room was dead silent for a minute, and then Ser Davos rose, cup in hand.
"To Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm's End."

"To Lord Gendry!" The rest of the room echoed the cheer, and Yelena forced
a smile, raising her cup as well.

She rose as he joined the crowd waiting to congratulate him. "If you'll excuse
me a moment." without waiting for a response, she strode off, grabbing
Gendry's arm and hauling him aside. Being herself, she cut straight to the
point. "I like you, brother, you seem like a good person, and this is indeed a
fitting reward. But I have worked far too hard for far too long to prove I am
just as good and better than any man who might have a claim to my name to
lose all of that work now. You can have Storm's End; you've proven yourself
worthy of it. But the Baratheon bannermen here are mine. If you try to take
them from me, I'll carve out your lungs, and feed them to my wolf."

He blinked, then let out a nervous laugh. "Trust me, I wasn't planning on it."

"Good." she pulled him into a hug, grinning at him when she withdrew.
"Then congratulations, Gendry Baratheon. I'm proud of you." She turned and
headed back to the table, her sense of security in her bannermen mostly
restored.

When she came to her seat, Jon gave har a little sideways glance. "Everything
alright?"

She nodded. "Mhm. Just had to clear something up."

The Hall was quickly filled with conversation, laughter, cheers, and lots of
alcohol. Yelena watched with a grin as Tormund tried to hand Jon a horn of
ale. "All of it!" he insisted. "Go on!"

Jon shook his head with a smile that spoke volumes of how much he couldn't
believe they wanted to make him do this. "No, not in one go."

"Go on, I believe in you." Sansa laughed.

"Come on, it's nothing." Yelena urged cheekily.

He raised his eyebrows at her, still smiling. "Nothing??"

"We have to celebrate our victory." Tormund grinned.

"Vomiting is not celebrating."

"Uhhyes it is." At the 'duh' look on his friend's face, Jon laughed, shaking
his head in disbelief. The wildling raised the horn. "To the Dragon Queen!"
The crowd cheered in agreement.
She stood, raising her mug too. "To Arya Stark, the hero of Winterfell!" They
cheered again, standing this time, and Yelena laughed as Tormund slugged
down his drink.

Laughter ensued, and as Sansa went off to wander the crowd, Dany deciding
to keep to herself, Jon and Yelena turned back to their friends. Somewhere
along the way, her eyes met with Jamie's, and she gave him a nod, smiling,
which he returned. She still hadn't had the chance to speak with him after
what he'd seen between her and Jon. she supposed his approval didn't really
matter, but the closer they got, the more she realised it would be nice to have.

"I saw them riding that thing." Tormund told his wildling friends, gesturing
drunkenly at Jon and Yelena.

"We all did." Davos pointed out.

"No." the ginger insisted. "No. I saw them riding that thing."

Jon shook his head in amusement, taking a drink while Yelena chuckled.

The Onion Knight raised his brows, nodding exaggeratedly. "That's right, you
did."

"I did!" he turned back to them, nearly losing his balance in the process.
"That's why we all agreed to follow him. That's the kind of man he is-" his
eyes flickered to Yelena, and his eyebrows went up like that of a child and
he held a hand up in an apologetic sort of manner. "And woman." Yelena
grinned as he wrapped a huge arm around Jon's neck. "He's little..." he
continued giggling in a drunken state. "But he's strong." Jon continued to
grin, shooting an amused look at Yelena that said 'help me!' but she was too
busy laughing. "Strong enough to befriend an enemy and get murdered for it.
Most people get bloody murdered, they stay that way." he slapped them both
on the back, making Yelena choke on her drink a bit. "Not these ones." the
others laughed along with him.

Yelena snorted. "Yeah, we didn't have much say in that."

"Bah! They come on back and keep fighting. Here, North of the Wall, and
then back here again." He sploshed drink around in his horn as he spoke,
making the princess chuckle. "They keep fighting. They keep fighting. They
climbed on a fucking dragon and fought. What kind of person climbs on a
fucking dragon? A madman... or a king!" The others laughed and cheered and
Yelena took another sip of her drink, grinning. This was proving to be an
interesting night.

**Jon POV**

When the others had dispersed from around him as well as Yelena and
Tormund, off to mingle, Jon went back to his room. He sat on his bed with
the fire cracking, just breathing. It was crazy to think about. The Great War
was over. The White Walkers were gone for good. They'd won. And he was
still alive, Yelena was still alive, Tormund was still alive, Daenerys was still
alive... Queen Daenerys. He sighed as he remembered how angry she'd been.
He didn't want to cause problems between Yelena and her friend, but he
couldn't control who he was. He had Targaryen blood and there was nothing
he could do to change that, no matter how much he didn't want it.

Only moments later he heard the latch of his door lift. He looked over at the
sound of Yelena's soft voice. "Are you drunk?"

Jon sighed. "No." but when he rose to his feet, his stumble stated otherwise.
A small smile crossed his face as he regained balance. "Only a little." he
corrected.

Soft amusement flickered in her eyes as she shut the door behind her, taking
a step towards him. Gods, she looked like an angel, the flames reflecting in
her bright green eyes, glowing warmly on her face, her hair falling in soft
waves around her shoulders. She might have a few scratches and bruises, but
she was still perfect.

"Do you remember the dance your family held when we were fifteen?" She
asked quietly. He nodded, his brows creasing, confused as to why she was
bringing it up. A sad little smile fell on her lips as her eyes turned to the fire.
"It was beautiful, such a glorious affair. I never liked dresses but I was so
excited to wear mine. Do you remember why?"
He blinked as he remembered. "Because I told you it looked beautiful."

She chuckled. "That was the only reason I needed. I don't think I'd realised
how much I loved you yet. When we got to the dance floor, I danced with
Robb. it was expected of me as his future bride, but I also did it because he
was my best friend." she sighed a little. "And then I saw you off in the
corner. You looked sad, but you were watching me. I asked you if you'd
dance with me." He felt guilty as the whole memory came rushing back to
him. "You said no, but... you wanted to. I could tell." she smiled again. "I
took your hand and dragged you out onto that dance floor and we had more
fun that night than ever before." she looked slowly up at him. "You never
asked for what you wanted. You were so afraid of the trouble or pain you
might cause..." she stepped closer until she was only a few inches away, but
still not touching him. "But you'd never hurt me." she whispered.

His breath caught in his throat, his voice coming out hoarse. "I already have."

"We were children. We all did stupid things." her hands reached up to his
face, one of them gently brushing down his cheek. "I'm yours, Jon Snow.
Until the day I die I am yours. So tell me what it is that you want." he could
feel his heart pounding in his chest at the words. He didn't deserve to have
someone like her. He never had. But there was something in her eyes that
made him believe, if only for that short while, that he did.

His hands reached up to hers. "You." they moved slowly down her arms to
the collar of her coat, tugging the knots loose. Her hands moved to his coat as
well, pulling the strings loose. They began stumbling slowly back towards
the bed, leaving a trail of clothes behind them until he fell backwards, Yelena
landing on top of him, her bare skin warm on his. A tiny huff of a laugh
escaped her lips and then they were on his. He slid his hands up her back,
rolling them both over in the process. He looked down at her perfect form,
hesitating for just another second while she looked up at him patiently with
those kind eyes, her hand playing softly through his hair. With her free arm,
she pushed herself up until her mouth was right next to his ear.

"Learn from your mistakes." she whispered. "Take what you want."

A/N
AHHHH! 1.3K?? TYSM!
Also, side note, I've been told recently that it's possible that the
Lannisters have Targaryen blood? Anyways, aside from what may or
may not be canon, in this story, Yelena and Jon are in NO WAY related.
 cẦaẮtez tẦiztặ-tẦzee ~ дzagon's
6looд

WHEN JON WOKE TO THE MORNING SUN PEEKING THROUGH

HIS WINDOW, it gently illuminated the face of the sleeping girl in front of
him. Some of her hair had fallen across her face, and it fluttered softly when
she breathed until he tucked it back with a little smile. He'd never noticed
quite how tense she often was until now. Of course he'd noticed it in King's
Landing, but this was different. She'd lived through so much horror that there
was always some sort of guard up when she was awake, even if it was
unintentional. But looking at her now, he saw a kind of peace in her features
he never had before, and he thought that this was what angels must look like.
After a moment, her nose scrunched a bit, her eyes squeezing before they
opened, looking straight into his, and she smiled sleepily. "Morning." she
gave a little yawn as their fingers linked beneath the sheets, and he suddenly
felt a stab of panic. She still didn't know. What if he told her and she took
back everything she said before? What if she hated him? What if she felt
tricked?

She must have seen the change in his face, because she frowned, squeezing
his hand a bit. "What's wrong? Jon?"

He took a breath. "I need to tell you something. It's... it's about..."

"Dany?" she guessed. "She was angry, but I still don't know why."

He nodded, bracing himself before he spoke. "Sam and Bran put it together...
I'm not a bastard. I never was. Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen were
married in secret, and when he died... she had a son, Aegon Targryen, sixth
of his name. But she was dying too. So she gave it to her brother... to raise as
his bastard son. She knew King Robert would have had me killed if he found
out."
He watched her face change like a lightning strike the minute she realised
who he was talking about. He could almost see the gears turning in her head
as she worked it out. "Of course..." she murmured. "Your father... I always
thought it was strange of him to break such a vow, but he never did. And
Dany... oh..." she blinked. "You have a claim to the Iron Throne. That's why
she's angry."

He looked down as he nodded. "You can yell at me now." he said softly.

"You can leave me. Call me a liar. It's alright."

She was silent for a long moment, and when he finally dared to look up
again. She was looking at him like he was the stupidest man in the world.
"Gods you're thick." she muttered, then leaned forward to kiss him. He froze
in shock, but quickly kissed her back, blinking in confusion when their lips
broke apart.

"What-"

"Get it through that thick skull; I don't care what your last name is. I never
did. I thought I made that clear the first time I kissed you." she paused for a
moment thinking, then wrinkled her nose. "I'm not calling you Aegon
though."

That snapped him out of whatever shock he had fallen into, and he let out a
laugh. "Well I appreciate it."

She shot him a smile before rolling over to get out of bed and he lay his head
back with a sigh. Time to get back to reality.

**Yelena POV**

Again the princess found herself standing at that table, back in her northern
gear, watching as Grey Worm removed Unsullied chips from the surface.

"Half are gone." His voice was grave.

"The Northmen as well." Jon added.

"And the Baratheon banners." Yelena slid half the pieces away.
The new Dothraki commander followed suit wordlessly with their chips as
Varys added new ones in the south. "And the Golden Company has arrived in
King's Landing, courtesy of the Greyjoy fleet. The balance has grown
distressingly even."

"When the people find out what we have done for them..." Missandei tried.
"That we saved them..."

"Cersei will make sure they don't believe it." the queen sighed, clearly
displeased.

"She's right." Yelena agreed. "With no proof left but unmoving bones, she
can keep on pretending they're nothing but a fairy tale, especially since the
threat is gone for good now."

Daenerys nodded. "We'll hit her hard. Rip her out root and stem."

Tyrion made a face. "The objective here is to remove Cersei without

destroying King's Landing."

"Thankfully, she's losing allies by the day." Varys pointed out. "Yara Greyjoy
has retaken the Iron Islands in her queen's name. The new prince of Dorne
pledges his support."

"But as long as she sits on the Iron Throne she can still call herself a queen."
Daenerys shook her head. "We need the capital."

Tyrion sighed. "I watched the people of King's Landing rebel against their
king and turn fleabottom into a whirlwind of blood and rape, and that was
before winter begun." Yelena's stomach twisted at the memory as she
clenched her fists and quickly locking the image away in the darkest part of
her mind with so many others. "Give them the opportunity and they will cast
Cersei aside."

"We can surround the city." Jon suggested. "If the Iron fleet tries to ferry
in more food..."

"We can sink them." the queen nodded, understanding, though she seemed a
bit tense. "And we can take the Lannisters and the Golden Company in the
field."

The princess nodded. "Once the people see that Cersei is the true target,
they'll abandon her. Her reign will be over." as she spoke, she reminded
herself that Daenerys had every right to be agitated. There was a clear leader
among them whose right to the throne surpassed hers, being only a female
heir. A solution for that had begun to brew at the back of her mind. She had
to talk to the queen alone.

"The men we have left are exhausted." Sansa reminded them. "Many of them
are wounded. They'll fight better if they have time to rest and recuperate."

The dragon-mother sighed. "How long do you suggest?"

"I can't say for certain, not without talking to the

officers."

She shook her head in irritation and slight impatience. "I don't have time for
that. I came north to fight alongside you. It cost both myself and my armies
greatly. I will not postpone. The longer I leave my enemies, the stronger they
become."

Yelena shared a look with Jon and he gave her a little nod, telling her to go
ahead. "Your enemies are our enemies." she said gently, looking to Daenerys.
"Both the Nothmen and the Southerners will honour their pledges. But they
can't march on King's Landing tired and disorganized. Give us two days." the
girls studied one another for a moment, and then Daenerys nodded.

"Alright. You have your timeline, and you have my blessing. But we need to
act soon."

"Of course, Your Grace." her eyes flashed with anger. "No one wants Cersei
out of power more than I."

After a moment of awkward silence in which Sansa and Arya clearly spent
judging Yelena's decision, Tyrion spoke again. "So... if all are in agreement,
Jon, Yelena and Ser Davos will ride down the King's Road with the Northern
and Southern troops and the bulk of the remaining Dothraki and Unsullied."
Jon began moving pieces across the table as the dwarf continued. "The
smaller group of us will ride to White Harbor and sail from there to
Dragonstone with our queen and her dragons accompanying us from above."

"With the queen's permission," Yelena intervened. "I'd like to travel with the
smaller group. I will leave my troops to Ser Davos. We have some business
to speak of." Both Jon and Tyrion shot her curious glances, but her eyes were
on the queen.

They seemed to communicate with their eyes for a moment, coming to a

silent agreement before Dany nodded. "You will take Rhaegal and
accompany me in the skies."

The Queen's Hand nodded, still looking slightly confused but proceeded
anyway. "Alright then. Ser Jamie has chosen to remain here, should the
princess allow it, as a guest of the Lady of Winterfell."

Yelena gave a nod. "Yes, of course."

Daenerys looked pleased. "We have won the Great War. Now we will win
the Last War. in all of the kingdoms, men will live without fear and cruelty."
She gave a nod, and everyone began to file out.

Arya stopped Yelena and Jon before they could go. "We need a word."

***

They stood in the Godswood, Jon, Sansa, Arya, Yelena and Bran, arguing
about the queen.

"You do understand we'd all be dead if it wasn't for her?" Yelena pointed out
in irritation. "We'd be blue-eyed beasts marching down to King's Landing."

"Arya's the one that killed the Night King." Sansa protested.

"Her men gave their lives defending Winterfell!" Jon insisted.

"And we will never forget them. That doesn't mean-"

"Listen to me, please." Yelena begged. "She's not a bad person. I understand
her better than most, which means I also know he is under a tremendous
amount of pressure. She knows people are depending on her, and she
travelled north, fighting in a war she never warned them about. But she still
did it. Now she needs to take the throne before they lose faith in her. She
knows she can save them but..." she took a breath. "She's afraid. She's afraid
that someone will swoop in and take it from her. And she has every right to
be. The people in Westeros know her only by the fear Cersei perpetuates.
They need to see her as something else and quickly, and she can do that from
the throne."

Arya's brows furrowed. "She has dragons! She's the only living person with
the right name, the name that forged the Iron Throne! Who in the Seven Hells
could take that from her?? Look, we'll never know her well enough to trust
her. She isn't one of us. I trust the King in the North."

Sansa nodded, turning to Jon. "It was you. It should be you again. You're as
much Ned Stark's child as any of us."

"You're my brother." Arya added. "Not my half-brother or my bastard-

brother. My brother."

He closed his eyes, shaking his head, and Yelena felt a stab of sympathy.
When they opened again, they focused on Bran. "It's your choice." the Three-
Eyed Raven said simply. The sisters turned to give their brother confused
looks.

He took a breath, not meeting any of their eyes. "There's something you need
to know..." he shook his head. "But you have to swear you'll never tell
another soul."

"What is it?" Arya asked worriedly, her eyes flickering between Jon and
Yelena, clearly recognising that the princess knew what it was too.

"You have to swear it, before I tell you."

Sansa frowned. "How can I promise to keep a secret if I don't even know
what it is?"
"Because we're family." his eyes returned to the younger sister. "Swear

it." She finally nodded. "I swear it."

The redhead pursed her lips. "I swear it."

He nodded, and his voice was quiet when he spoke again, to Bran this time.
"Tell them." his fingers laced nervously with Yelena's as they both awaited
the girls' reactions.

A/N
Only three more chapters and an epilogue, my loves! I'm so excited. Are
you excited? Actually, I'm terrified because I've barely touched on my
new Maze Runner fanfic so it's probably not gonna be ready by the time
I'm done publishing this. EESH.
 cẦaẮtez tẦiztặ-fouz ~ tzaẮẮeд

TWO DAYS LATER THE TROOPS WERE ORGANISED AND SET

TO GO. Yelena was slipping on her gloves as she made her way down from
her room to join Daenerys when a hand pulled her into an empty chamber out
of sight. A small squeak escaped her lips, but her defensive instincts settled
when she saw who it was. "Gods, don't scare me like that!" she snapped
quietly, giving his arm a playful smack.

Jon gave a halfhearted chuckle. "Sorry. I just wanted to see you before you
left." he reached out to gently brush back a piece of her hair. "Be careful,
alright?"

A small smile flickered across her lips as she took his hands in hers. "I'll be
fine. I'll be riding a bloody dragon, high above any danger."

He sighed. "I know. But we seem to face the most unexpected threats these
days. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Hey we survived the white walkers, didn't we? And there was a time when
that was the most unexpected threat there was."

"Yeah. There was." his eyes crinkled with a small smile. "I suppose I'll see
you in the south then, princess."

She laughed softly, standing on her toes to kiss him. When she stepped back,
she gave a little wink. "See you in the South, Lord Snow."

***

She stood at the queen's side as the dragons snorted and growled softly, more
than ready to get out of the North. She moved to Rhaegal's side, scaling it
easily now. As soon as she was settled at the base of his neck, gripping the
spines, he took a running start, lifting off into the air. Dany and Drogon
followed closely behind, the girls exchanging smiles. They swooped by one
another easily in the sky. Rhaegal wasn't entirely healed yet, but Yelena
weighed about as much to him as a flea to a dog. As they continued on their
flight, Yelena edged him a bit closer to his brother. She dared not get too
close to Drogon's air space, but she wanted to be close enough to speak to
Daenerys without shouting. Thankfully, the dragons' wing beats were much
quieter from above.

"Why did you want to speak to me?" Dany asked finally, sounding a little
tense.

Yelena sighed. "I know about Jon. I know who he really is."

The silver-haired woman's expression changed, as though she were bracing

for terrible news. "And you think he should be king."

The princess blinked. "What? No! Hells no. Jon would hate it. He would hate
the South too."

She frowned. "So why do you want to talk about it?"

"Because I know you're afraid people will choose him if they know. He's a
man, and they know him better. He's lived in Westeros all his life. To them,
that makes him a more desirable candidate."

"So what do you suggest?"

The corner of Yelena's lips twitched upward. "Don't let them find out. They
never need to know the truth. When you take the throne, grant him the
Stark name. People don't ever need to know he's not a Snow. they won't
care what he used to be once he's a Stark."

She seemed to take that in. "That's... a really good idea actually."

"Oh, I'm full of those." Both girls chuckled. Ahead of them, they could see
Dragonstone, and the two dragons set their sights on it, flying a little faster
now. They veered around to fly another moment before landing, but then out
of nowhere, what looked to be a giant crossbow bolt flashed across Yelena's
vision, and she felt the dragon jolt beneath her. He screamed in pain as the
princess panicked, trying desperately to hold on. Another hit. And then
another. This one plunged straight through his throat, and she watched him
choke out blood as he fell. A scream escaped her lips. "RHAEGAL!" and
then they crashed into the sea. In a moment of shock, she nearly sucked in a
breath of water, but managed to keep her mouth clamped shut. Red pooled
around dragon and girl, and her heart broke as she watched him sink below
her. But there was another problem too; his sinking was pulling her down.
Righting herself, she swam desperately for the surface, but the attack above
water continued, raining down wood and steel and other things that
threatened to hit her and knock the last of the air from her lungs. Just as her
vision began to cloud, she felt something pull her from the water. She landed
on a wood deck, coughing as she listened to the voices shouting, and then her
vision faded to darkness.

***

Yelena woke with a start, gasping for air. The world around her seemed far
too bright for a moment, but when her vision cleared, what she saw was even
worse. It was her room. Not her room at Winterfell, but her room at King's
Landing, and she thought she must be stuck in some awful nightmare until
she heard her mother's voice. "How do you feel, my cub?"

Her eyes followed the voice to see her standing by the window, a kind smile
on her face. "No." her voice was a hoarse whisper as her heart thudded
painfully in her chest. "No, this can't be happening- it can't!"

"Shh! It's alright, darling." her mother started forwards, reaching out to her
daughter. "You're safe."

"NO!" her throat still burned from the seawater, but she leapt from her bed
and out of her mother's reach. Her breath heaved, and panic clouded her
vision as every awful memory of this place came rushing back. She'd worked
so hard to escape this place and yet here she was once again, as though it had
all been for nothing.

Cersei nodded, her expression calm and understanding. "I'll give you some
time to adjust, my sweet. I'll come visit you later." Yelena stood frozen in
place as her mother walked to the door, knocking to have the guards let her
out. As soon as she was gone, the tears fell from the princess's eyes. She fell
to her knees as she sobbed, fear and anger and helplessness twisting in her
stomach. She wasn't sure if she could survive this place again.

She soon found that her windows had bars on them to keep her from trying to
jump, and there were heavy locks on the outside of her door as well as extra
guards. The same with her balcony doors. She supposed this was Cersei's
idea of 'protection'. Every weapon and piece of parchment had also been
taken. It seemed the queen had gone to extreme lengths to keep her daughter
in her grasp this time. Her black curtains had been replaced with vibrant red
ones. She took care of them quickly, tearing them down and shoving them
into the fire as she'd done with the others. She took every single dress from
her closet and shredded it, leaving the scraps on the floor. She banged on the
door, shattered a stool slamming it against the window bars, cried, screamed,
knocked over every piece of furniture and threw every single decoration at
the walls. It did her no good. Eventually, her energy ran dry, and she sat
curled up in a corner, wanting to cry but unable to make the tears come. She
looked over when her door opened, a servant leaving food and drink just
inside before it shut again, but she turned away. If the queen believed she'd
thought of every possible way to keep her daughter from killing herself, she'd
have to think again. Finally the princess stood, walking slowly to the mirror.
She wasn't sure she wanted to look, but she did anyway. She was still
wearing her gear and still had her wolf pendant, thank the gods, though her
weapons were gone, left with Tyrion before they departed Winterfell. Her lip
was split and her eyes dull and bloodshot, framed by her hair that hung limpy
in the light. When she lifted her sleeve, she could see bruises from her fall
into the water. Finally the exhaustion overcame her and on automatic, she
stumbled over to her bed. She stopped short when she stood before it though.
She didn't want to sleep here ever again. Instead, she took her pillows and lay
them out in the far corner of her study, shutting the door and blocking it with
her chair and desk.

That was how she spent her time. The hours began to pass quickly and in
blurs, leaving her unsure of how long it had been. It must have been at least
three days. Or was it only two? She never ate or drank anything, and
combined with her screaming and throwing things whenever her mother tried
to visit, it left her feeling much weaker than she would have liked. There
were dark circles forming under her eyes as well. But on the third morning,
her mother with another woman at her side, and Yelena sucked in a sharp
breath. "Missandei." she managed.

Her mother smiled kindly. "Listen to me and obey me, my little cub, and she
will not have to die."

**Jon POV**

Jon hadn't slept properly for three nights. As soon as he'd gotten the raven
from Daenerys he'd descended into panic, rising from it again only when he
realised panicking and acting rashly could get Yelena killed. He'd left his
armies with Davos and now he walked between rows of Unsullied with the
queen as she approached the city walls, his heart pounding with fear. When
they reached the front of the troops his eyes scanned the walls, and he
almost gasped when he saw her. Four guards stood around her, looking more
like they were keeping her trapped than protecting her. Her shoulders were
slumped, her hair a mess and her figure looking utterly broken and defeated,
but it was her. There was no doubt about it. Not when she looked back at
him, her eyes full of desperation and helplessness. He felt a stab of guilt
when he remembered telling her he wouldn't let them take her back there.
And now here they were. The queen smirked down, Missandei beside her,
and he knew this was playing out just as she wanted it.

Finally the gates opened and Cersei's Hand strode out towards them. Tyrion
started out to meet him. Jon couldn't hear the words they exchanged, but
their expressions remained neutral. Every time his eyes flickered back to
Yelena, his heart stumbled with worry. Tyrion strode even further forward,
stopping at the wall to speak directly to the queen, undeterred by the archers
taking aim at him. She raised a hand as though she wanted to order them to
fire, but movement on her left stopped her. "Mother... please." Jon's heart
dropped at the sound of the princess's voice. She must be truly desperate to
call Cersei that. The queen hesitated a second before ordering them to hold.

"I know you don't care about your people." Tyrion's voice carried up to the
walls. "Why should you? They hate you and you hate them. But you're not a
monster. I know this. I know this because I've seen it. You've always loved
your children. More than yourself, more than Jamie. More than anyone. You
didn't do this, did you?" he gestured to Yelena. "You tried to take care of her
but she didn't want it. She doesn't want you anymore, but I beg you... if not
for yourself then for the child you carry. Your reign is over, but that doesn't
mean your life has to end. It doesn't mean your baby has to die." There was a
moment of long silence, in which Jon was unsure of who to watch more
carefully; Cersei, The Mountain, Missandei, Yelena or the guards
surrounding her.

The queen stepped towards Missandei, and Yelena stumbled forward a step,
only for the guards to block her path. Daenerys, Grey Worm and Jon all
strode forwards a few steps, all three of them unsure of what to do if she
pushed the girl. Instead, she spoke, her voice quiet but clear, reaching the
onlookers. "If you have any last words, now is the time."

Yelena pushed harder against her guards, her expression desperate and
shocked. "No, you can't!"

Missandei lifted her head, her eyes teary but strong. "Dracarys!"

Again came the painful sound of the princess's voice. "Please!" but it was too
late. The Mountain stepped forward. His sword swung true and Missandei
fell. Though the dragon queen's expression was full of horror, and Grey
Worm unable to even bear the sight, Jon's eyes fixated panickedly on Yelena
as her voice rose to a scream. "NO! YOU PROMISED! YOU TRAITOROUS
BITCH YOU PROMISED ME!" his heart raced as the guards began to pull
her away towards where steps would lead them down from the wall and out
of sight again. She screamed in fear and anger as she fought them, and then
he watched her hand clasp around one of their swords. She whirled, knocking
two guards away and slicing the throat of the third before the sword fell from
her hands. Cersei was panickedly ordering more guards to take her to her
room, but she was already running. Towards the edge of the wall.

Dany didn't waste any time. "Dovaogēdy naejot!" she cried. Six men rushed
forward, Jon right behind them as Yelena leapt from the wall. And they
caught her. He rushed to the center of the circle where one man held her up.
With an exhausted huff, she stumbled forwards, and Jon caught her, holding
her close against his chest. With Cersei still screaming orders and insults
above them, they hurried back to the group, and back to the Unsullied camp.

Jon sat by Yelena's side as she sat on a simple cot, sipping some broth as a
healer dabbed at her remaining bruises and cuts from crashing into the sea.
Eventually, she waved him off gently, telling him to give them the tent.

"I'm sorry." Jon said finally, his quiet voice breaking the silence.

"Why?" her eyes were calm as he looked up at her in slight disbelief.

"What do you mean? I promised you I wouldn't let them take you
back there." He shook his head, looking down. "And I failed."

He felt her hand rest over his. "It's not your fault. Cersei has been after me
since the day I left. No one ever could have expected she'd be able to kill a
dragon. Besides, you came after us. You got me out of a place I thought I
had no chance of escaping. If that isn't keeping your promise, I don't know
what is." he remained silent, but her words eased his mind a bit. "How's
Daenerys?" she murmured after a moment.

He raised his brows. "Shouldn't you be worried about you right now?"

She gave a sad little smile. "I'll be alright once I sleep. She won't. How is
she?"

"We don't know. She hasn't spoken a word since ordering the Unsullied to
tend to you." They both turned at the sound of Tyrion's voice to find him
striding across the room to wrap his niece in a relieved hug. "How do you
feel?"

"Like I spent three days starving myself." she huffed. "It's really great,
you should try it sometime."

He laughed a little, seeming relieved at her familiar fire. "Perhaps you should
get some sleep?"

She shook her head. "I need to talk to-" she stumbled when she stood, but Jon
was quick to reach out and steady her. "I'm okay." she assured him. "I'm
okay." she took a breath. "I need to talk to Dany." she gave Jon's hand a little
squeeze before turning and heading out of the tent flaps.

Jon watched her go with a sigh, looking down when Tyrion cleared his throat.
"So. You had sex with my favourite niece." His brows furrowed as he blinked
in disbelief at the other man. At the look on his face, Tyrion's lips twitched
with a smirk. "About bloody time the bastard and the princess got together."

Jon huffed a half-laugh. "Things were simpler back when that was our
biggest worry."

Tyrion gave him a sly look. "And now your biggest worry is pregnancy." and
the dwarf couldn't help but snort at the terrified look on Jon Snow's face.

**Yelena POV**

She finally found her at the edge of camp, her silver head bowed in grief.
"Daenerys." The queen whirled with wide eyes at the sound of Yelena's
voice. She seemed to remain frozen in place, despair filling her eyes, so it
was Yelena who moved forward until she could wrap her in a hug that was
immediately returned, the queen clinging to her friend in desperation, small
sobs shaking her. The princess felt a stab of guilt. "I'm sorry." she whispered,
holding her close. "She promised me... she promised me she'd let her live if I
came with them. I'm so, so sorry."

"You didn't... kill her..." Daenerys uttered through her tears. "Don't be
sorry." she drew back, her eyes becoming firm though her breaths still came
heavily. "Be vengeful."

She nodded. "We can get her. I know we can. Tyrion was right, the people
hate her. Once they see your armies they'll part like water on rocks."

"And then what?"

Her eyes were icy rage. "And then we do exactly what Missandei wanted. We
burn her where she stands."
 cẦaẮtez tẦiztặ-fiẴe ~ ting's
lanдing

A/N
Oh my god, there is so much that happens in this chapter because fuck if
I was gonna let that last season ruin Dany for me. So here you are, I've
changed the ending (hopefully for the better), but HOOOOOLY SHIIIT
is this a lot packed into a few pages, so buckle up!

BACK ON DRAGONSTONE THE QUEEN STRUGGLED WITH

HEARTBREAK. She'd lost two dragons - two children - and so many
more friends. Yelena would sit with her through meals, trying to get her to
eat just a little bit. "You can't avenge them if you starve." she reasoned
gently.
Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. She was the only person the queen
would see aside from occasionally Tyrion, and even then she would barely
speak to him. Yelena would spend hours poring over plans with Jon and her
uncle. They could not afford to lose this battle. Every variable had to be
accounted for, and lucky for them, Cersei loved to show off her power. They
had all the information they needed about the Iron Fleet, the scorpions, the
armies, all of it. The princess herself had regained strength and health within
hours, just as she'd said.

"All the scorpions are on the gate wall and the Greyjoy ships." Yelena wasn't
sure if she was talking to herself or to the other two or maybe just thinking
aloud. "If Drogon can hit the fleet and take them by surprise, they'll have time
to prepare on the wall. But the scorpions are heavy to adjust and so are the
bolts. If he keeps moving, he should be able to take them out one by one
without getting hit."

"Or take out the whole wall." Tyrion suggested.

"Yeah..." she sighed. "He can stay low to the water to take out the ships, but
the wall is the risky part. The scorpions are hard to move, but they can use
the high vantage point to aim pretty much anywhere." she frowned. "Drogon
has been hit by one of these before though, hasn't he?"

Her uncle nodded. "When the queen attacked them on the road from High
Garden. It was smaller, but it still only slowed him down."

She exhaled softly, putting her head in her hands. "It's a risk... but at least it's
a calculated one. I can't see the Golden Company thinking the fight is worth
it once they see the dragon and two armies. They'll be the first to drop their
swords. Once the Lannister army is alone, they should follow suit. I'll talk to
Dany about having the Unsullied clear the streets while I take my men into
the Red Keep. I don't trust Grey Worm's vengeance lust after what Cersei did.
He might do something rash."

"What about the Mountain?" Jon asked. "I doubt any normal soldier could
take him."

She thought about that a moment. "I'll bring some Dothraki as well. They
should be able to finish him off."

When they headed out, Jon pulled Yelena aside. "You don't have to go back
in there." he told her softly. "I can take the troops up to the Red Keep."

She smiled softly, squeezing his hand. "It's okay. I know that place better
than anyone. Hold the city with your Northmen. I'll be fine."

"At least let me come with you."

After a second of hesitation, she nodded. "I'll go get Dany. Go help Tyrion
get the boat, we'll be right there."

The queen opted to fly while the others took the ship back to the camp
outside the city gates. Yelena did not sleep that night, choosing to spend her
time wandering, her hands returning to her blades every few minutes as if to
make sure they were still there. Tyrion had returned them to her after her
escape, but the memory of being caught vulnerable without them kept her
anxious.

Finally morning came, and it was time to strike, the armies waiting at the city
gates for a dragon to clear their path, the Golden Company between them and
the wall. The bells would be the city's signal for surrender, and she prayed to
all the gods that she would hear them. The strike was sudden, and harsh.
Roars filled the air and they knew Euron Greyjoy and his fleet were gone.
And then the gate exploded. Fire pulsed through the opening, the blast taking
out the Golden Company swiftly. Dothraki, Unsullied, Northmen and
Southerners all charged forward through the ruined blockade as Drogon
rained fire down on the scorpions, disposing of them easily. Grey Worm, Jon,
Yelena and Ser Davos led their men through the city, finishing any man who
dared attack, not that the Dothraki had left much in their wake. They finally
came face to face with the Lannister army, a piteous sight next to what
Daenerys had to offer. Drogon swooped low, causing panic in the people still
rushing to find shelter before landing on a tower, roaring his fury. There was
a silent standoff between the army at their back and the army they faced. And
then one man dropped his sword. Yelena blinked. Then another. And
another, and another and soon every soldier stood weaponless in surrender.

Yelena stepped forward. "Ring the bells." She didn't need to yell for her
voice to echo off walls and carry across the men, who watched her in unease.
"Ring the bells and the queen will know you want peace. She will grant you
mercy."

"Ring the bells!" a voice shouted. The call began to carry through the city,
and Yelena watched a few men dart off towards the towers. Soon the bells
were indeed ringing, and as their chimes filled the air, the princess gaze went
to the Red Keep. She hoped her mother knew all was lost. Drogon let out a
roar, leaping into the sky, and a call was heard from above.

"Dovaogēdy! Take their steel! Clear the streets without shedding blood!"
and then in a different tongue. "Khalasar with Princess Yelena!" The
princess wasn't fluent in either language, but Missandei had taught her some.
The queen was ordering the Dothraki to follow Yelena and the Unsullied to
clear her path.

As soon as the Dothraki came back, Yelena quickly approached the leader.
"Get your six best and come with me. The rest can stay." She turned to
her
troops. "Lord Estermont, your men are with me!" Once the Dothraki
commander had chosen his men, She gave Jon a little nod, and they marched
through the streets that the Unsullied were clearing, heading for the gates to
the Red Keep. When they reached the gate, Yelena thought for a moment
they might have a new problem; getting in, but the people inside knew what
the bells meant, and it only took a moment for them to open the doors to their
princess. She strode in, watching the archers carefully, but Yelena knew
Cersei wouldn't order them to fire. If she still thought she had any chance of
winning, she couldn't have the people rebel for firing on them, not to mention
she'd never risk hitting her daughter. They headed into the Red Keep, where
apparently several guards were still loyal. They were easily fought off and
killed. Yelena nearly tripped and fell on her face when a hidden passageway
opened up, and the last two people she'd expected to see walked out.
"Clegane?"

"Arya?" Jon's tone was pure confusion.

"I imagine your queen will want to finish Cersei off herself after that stunt
she pulled, but I still have to knock the Mountain off my list." the girl replied
with a little shrug.

"And you've found someone else who wants him dead to travel with." Yelena
laughed, shaking her head. "I shouldn't have expected anything less from the
fiercest of the Starks."

Up the steps they continued, moving easily by the guards who surrendered.
The ones who didn't were not much harder to pass. Finally they reached the
door they sought, and Yelena tried the handle. Locked. Ramming open the
door would be exactly what Cersei expected, leading them right into the
Mountain's sword, but what she didn't know was that the princess had spent
years picking these locks, and knew exactly what she was doing. She gently
wiggled the tip of her dagger around until she heard a soft click, feeling a
triumphant spark. She turned to the men behind her, holding up three fingers.
On the count of three, she mouthed. She put down a finger, then another, and
when the last went down she slammed the door open, soldiers pouring
through away from the hulking warrior, encircling the room to stop any
escape attempts. In the center of it all stood a shocked-looking Cersei, the
Mountain beside her with his sword drawn, and Qyburn beside him. The
Mountain looked ready to swing, but Yelena was well-prepared for this. She
stepped forward to stand directly before the monster, despite Jon's warning,
looking up into his awful red eyes. He looked about to swing when Cersei
cried out in panic.

"Stop! Do not hurt her!" He froze, lowering his sword.

Yelena smirked. "I'm sure you thought you were very clever, bringing
innocents we wouldn't harm into the Red Keep. But who has the bigger
weakness now?" her expression darkened. "Kill him." She jerked her chin at
the old man. "Hold the Mountain." The Dothraki rushed forwards, and
Qyburn was dead before he could blink. The Mountain was strong, but he
was up against seven large Dothraki screamers. His fight grew even more
difficult when Arya and the Hound joined the fray. As they fought across the
room, Yelena looked back to Cersei. "Take her." the ex-queen shouted and
fought, but it lasted less than a minute, and she was in their custody.

Just then, Arya gave a yell. The Dothraki and Clegane were fighting the
Disarmed mountain mainly hand to hand, but the huge man froze now.
Everyone saw the blood on the girl's sword and then the head slowly toppling
from his shoulders, deep red pooling out across the floor. Arya calmly wiped
off her blade and sheathed it before striding back to her brother's side. Eyes
scanning the room, the princess let out a breath. After everything, all they'd
lost, all they'd suffered... it was over. Just like that.

"Return to the city." she ordered softly. "Tell the people it's over. Tell them
it's time to meet their new queen."

"What about your prisoner, my princess?" one of her men asked.

Her eyes moved to the Dothraki. "Take her to a cell. The Khaleesi will
decide what to do with her." Cersei shouted in protest, begged her daughter
for forgiveness, but Yelena could barely even hear it. When the room was
empty but for her, Jon, Arya and the Hound, she moved slowly to the
balcony. "It's done." she murmured. "Nearly eight years... and it's finally
over." she looked back at her friends. Jon looked proud, Arya looked
satisfied, and the Hound looked slightly less grumpy than usual. She smiled.
"Come on. We should get down there."
***

It felt surreal to stand before the people of King's Landing, finally and truly
victorious. She took a breath, stepping forward. Her voice, never once failing
her, drew all eyes once more. "Once you all knew me as your princess." she
called out. "You may have loved me, you may have hated me, you may not
have cared at all. It doesn't matter anymore. I once took pride in being the
only true heir of King Robert Baratheon... but I am the daughter of a usurper!
I will not carry on that legacy. My family took the Seven Kingdoms from the
Mad King, speaking of hope and change, and let it descend into hell once
more. Today I renounce my title! Today, I reject the crimes of my blood!
Today, you will see a Baratheon bend the knee to a Targaryen, Daenerys
Stormborn, the true heir to the Iron Throne and protector of our realm, our
home!" A roar sounded overhead, and Drogon swooped low, veering around
to land just behind Yelena, half on the huge steps, half on a small portion of
the Red Keep, likely crushing it. She didn't bother to worry. The castle was
long overdue for some alterations anyways if you asked her. Daenerys slid
carefully from the dragon's back, coming up beside the princess. "They're all
yours." She whispered to the queen with a little smile. She went to step back,
but Dany took her hand, giving a little nod.

"Queen Cersei is gone." her voice rolled over the people before them. "Her
reign has crushed far too many lives... but no longer. I swear to you, I will
rule with justice and compassion. The Seven Kingdoms are mine, but they
are your home. I will strive to make this world a better place in my time on
the Iron Throne. No longer will the wheel roll over the vulnerable. That
wheel is broken, now and always!" everything was silent for a moment, and
then clapping could be heard. A single person. Then another. And another.
More joined until the entire courtyard was clapping and cheering, leaving
Dany smiling. She held up a hand, and slowly, silence fell again. "But there
is one matter I must attend to. When my father was king, the North suffered.
In the years that Robert Baratheon was king, they had peace again, but then
they suffered under King Joffrey, King Tommen, and Queen Cersei. They no
longer trust the crown, and they have every right not to. They don't know me.
They have no reason to trust my promises to be better than my predecessors.
So from this day forward, I declare that the North... Belongs to the North. I
will not be Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I will be
queen of six." She looked back to see Jon looking surprised behind them.
"Jon Snow."

He blinked, stepping forward. "Your Grace."

"I have spoken with my friend and ally, Yelena Baratheon. Her advice is
wise. On this day, I name you Jon Stark, son of Eddard Stark. You will
become Lord of Winterfell... and King of the North." Yelena's eyes widened
as she whipped her head around to look at her. Daenerys smiled. "You were
right."

Jon took a knee, still looking shocked. "My gratitude is undying, Your
Grace."

"Stand." he did, and she smiled. "For you are a king."

***

Yelena stood on one of the walls of the Red Keep, looking out over the city
as the sun went down. Her mother would be executed in a few days, but Jon
and the other Northerners were leaving for Winterfell in the morning. Yelena
had a choice. She could stay here in King's Landing with Daenerys, or she
could ride north with Jon. It wasn't the decision that was hard, it was the
flashbacks that came with the realisation that she was probably never coming
back. She had so many memories here. Plenty were bad, yes, but many were
good too; dancing with Myrcella at her first ball, horseback riding with
Tommen, her father teaching her about the kingdoms, her mother... There
were so many good memories of Cersei from before everything had gone so
wrong. She missed those days, but they were over now. Staying here would
only remind her of the pain every single day, but she wanted to remember
them all one last time at least. As if on automatic, she headed to the steps
that would take her back down to the courtyard, her feet carrying her inside
the red keep and to a heavily guarded iron door. She took a deep breath. Do I
really want to do this? Yes. She had to. Had to see her one last time. It was
probably a terrible idea, but there was part of her that wanted to say
goodbye. She couldn't ignore the fact that she'd once loved Cersei. "May I
pass?" she asked softly.
The Unsullied men exchanged looks, looking her up and down before
seeming to recognise her. She recognised the man who stepped forward. Grey
Worm. "Why?"

"She's my mother. I leave tomorrow morning, and I'll never see her again."

"She's a murderer."

"Yes. She is. May I pass?" He gave her one last careful look before nodding
and stepping aside. "Thank you." she murmured before slipping by and down
the stairs. She lurked hesitantly at the bottom of the steps for a moment
before braving the dungeons. Luckily for her, Cersei was in a cell that was
easy to observe from the outside, meaning she didn't have to come anywhere
near the ex-queen's grasp again. These cells were mostly empty, allowing her
to find the right one quickly. "Mother." her voice was quiet, but down here,
where the loudest sound was the scampering of rats' feet, that didn't matter.

The woman's head whipped around, her eyes widening when they landed on
her first child. "My little cub." she murmured softly.

"I'm not your little cub." Yelena replied calmly. "I came to say goodbye."

"You'd let that manipulative Mad Queen murder your own mother? You have
nowhere to run back to without me."

"I don't need to run. I'm not scared." she told her. "Not anymore."

"How can you be so sure?" Cersei's voice was desperate now, as though she
knew she was grasping at straws.

"Because once upon a time, you were my everything. You were all I ever
needed, and then I needed you more than ever and you weren't there. I pulled
myself through." Yelena stepped towards the bars, crouching down look the
woman in the eyes; green eyes that matched her own. "I loved you." she said
sadly. She rose, walking a few paces away before she heard her voice call out
again.

"Wait! What about the baby?? It will be your blood! You can't turn your back
on us!"

Yelena didn't turn. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "But I will never risk another
Joffrey coming into this world." and as she ascended the steps, ignoring her
mother's desperate cries, she felt as if a dragon's weight had been lifted from
her shoulders, and she knew it was time to go home. Really home. The sun
would be coming up any minute. Time to find Jon and say goodbye to the
new Queen Daenerys Targaryen.
 GutṅṌr's LṌte

So, you guys don't have to read this if you don't want, but if you do read it, I
would love to hear your opinion on what I did with the ending and with Dany
because I cried so much over the finale of that show, like it was fucked uppp.
But anyways, there's only one more chapter left to add! I'm so excited (there's
an epilogue too) and I want to say thank you SO SO much because when I
decided to share this story I was really uncertain about the feedback it'd get,
but the reads, the votes, the comments are even better than I could have
imagined so thank you thank you thank you, I love writing for you guys so
much, and I will see you next chapter. <3

- Da✰åṺ0a
 cẦaẮtez tẦiztặ-sit ~ until tẦe enд of
mặ дaặs

SHE LEANED INTO THE HUG WITH A SIGH, feeling a bit bad for
leaving her, but when she pulled back, the queen was smiling. "Send a raven
when you've returned, won't you?"

Yelena smiled. "Of course. Goodbye, Your Grace." The girls exchanged
smiles again, and the ex-princess hopped up onto her horse alongside Jon,
Arya and Ser Davos. Finally she was going home to stay.

The road wasn't all that exciting. They rode hard through the days to make it
there faster, so less than a month felt like even less than that.

One night, Jon found Yelena out looking at the stars. She heard footsteps, and
smiled when she turned to find him approaching. "What are you doing out so
late?" he asked with a little smile.

Her eyes returned to the sky. "They're beautiful." she said softly. "I used to
watch them all the time, look for the brightest ones, look for little patterns. I
haven't done it in years. I thought I might start again."

He tilted his head, as if trying to see the patterns she meant, and she giggled
at the tinge of confusion in his expression. He grinned down at her, taking
her hand in his and spinning her around as she let out a little laugh. His
expression turned serious after a moment, and she frowned in concern.
"What's the matter?"

"Lena-" he paused, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say
when he could barely hear his own thoughts over the pounding of his heart. "I
fell in love with you when we were thirteen." he blurted out. "I don't think I
ever stopped, and I don't wish that I had even if it was awful to miss you so
much sometimes, but..." he took a breath. "I don't ever want to stop being in
love with you, and I never want to be without you."

She smiled softly. "That was my line."

He exhaled very slowly, trying and failing to calm his nerves. "Marry me."

Yelena blinked, her eyes becoming wide as her breath caught in her chest.
"I- what- you-"

"Love you. I love you. I always have and I always will and I don't think
I could-"

"Shut up. Oh gods, just shut up." he froze and she jumped forward, pressing
her lips to his and feeling his arms surround her, the shock passing as he
kissed her back. She drew back, taking a breath as a smile split her face.
"Yes."

"Yes?" he gasped.

"Yes."

*Jon POV*

Jon rode through the gates of Winterfell, Yelena by his side. They hadn't told
anyone yet, wanting to tell everyone at once, but as far as he could tell, she
didn't regret what she'd said. That had been his biggest fear; that she would
say yes and wish she hadn't. But she didn't.

He watched her slide from her horse as Sansa came out, the two girls
laughing softly as they pulled one another into a hug. "You did it." Sansa
grinned. "You freed the North."

Yelena chuckled. "Well, I only played a minor role in that."

The redheaded girl shook her head with an amused eye roll, as if she couldn't
believe her friend was discrediting her actions. She moved to pull Jon and
Arya into a hug too. "There's more news than that." Jon smiled. "I suppose
we should call a meeting for it."
Soon enough, Lords filled up the Hall. Jon sat alone at the head table, feeling
rather odd about it. He stood, silencing the murmurs of the room. "You all
know by now that the North is it's own kingdom, with its own king." cheers
rang out, before quietling again, and Jon smiled a bit. "But I can't do this job
alone. I have my advisors, of course, but I need someone far smarter than
them and far smarter than me. And so I've brought us home a queen who will
rule beside me. Yelena Baratheon." cheers and applause rang out. The lords,
he realised, trusted her. They knew she wasn't just some southern princess.
The North was her home as much as it was theirs. She'd spent half her life
growing up at Winterfell. He looked over to find Sansa and Arya grinning
excitedly at her, probably congratulating her. Their eyes met, and he gestured
for her to come up beside him. The Hall slowly began to quiet again as she
stood, making her way over to his side.

Her eyes sparkled with joy, her hand linking with his before her gaze turned
out to the lords. "I've always loved the North." she told them. "I loved it in a
way I could never have loved King's Landing. I never thought I was worthy
of having any power here when I was born a southern princess, but it has
been given to me all the same. I hope I can prove to be worthy of it." Jon
found himself smiling down at her as they cheered again. She was perfection
made human.

Jamie Lannister stood then, moving to stand before them. His eyes were on
his niece. "Your Grace." he knelt, and she shook her head, looking as though
she were trying not to smile.

"Please, rise."

He did. "I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but when I first came
north, it was you who vouched for me, who saved me from a fate I likely
deserved and made me your loyal knight. I ask now that you allow me to
pledge my sword to you as queen, that I may be one of your Queensguard."

She blinked, looking a bit surprised, and the room seemed to be holding its
breath as it waited for her answer. She took a breath, holding her head high.
"I will allow you this honour, uncle. But I will not use old rules in a new age.
You may be my protector, but you do love someone, do you not?" he
hesitated before nodding. A small smile crossed her face. "I will not forbid
you from having this partner. I name you Jamie Lannister, Oathkeeper, first
knight of my Queensguard."

***

That night, there was a feast that was nothing short of grand. There was
laughter and chatter and food and dancing, and a King and Queen with secret
plans at the head table. After a while, Yelena stood, excusing herself from her
current conversation. She looked to Jon, giving him a tiny nod before heading
off to her room. A few minutes passed, and he rose to go to his. There wasn't
much for him to do but donn his fur cloak before heading out into the night
towards the Godswood. He didn't have to wait long.

The breath was stolen from his lungs when she stepped out into the snowy
wood. The white dress she wore was simple, but beautiful, the soft material
meant for the cold somehow framing her form perfectly. Her hair fell softly
down her back and spilled over her shoulders, let completely loose. He'd
never seen her hair let down before aside from after the few nights they'd
spent together, but this was different. This was pure radiance. She wore
delicate white gloves, furred at the wrists, and only a single piece of jewelry;
a wolf pendant bumping lightly against her collarbone as she moved towards
him, a soft smile on her face. Blinking himself out of his shock, he held out
his hand, and she took it gently, letting him lead her the last few steps.

There they stood before their septon with his great books, both of their hearts
pounding. They'd never really known what they were before now, only what
they'd had, and what they'd had was love. Jon continued to watch the woman
next to him reverently as the septon wrapped their hands together in white
cloth. He looked to both of them for confirmation, and they nodded. "In the
sight of the Seven," he uttered. "I hereby seal these two souls, binding them
as one for eternity." he stepped back. "Look upon one another,and say the
words."

When Jon turned to Yelena, he could see her eyes shining, the perfect smile
gracing her lips. And they spoke in perfect unison.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger,"

"I am his and he is mine,"

"I am hers and she is mine,"

"From this day until the end of my days."

A/N
Short chapter, I know, but omg y'all ain't ready for the epilogue
tomorrow. I'm not ready for this to be over ࣃ
 eẮilogue

*five years later*

**Yelena POV**

TRACKING THE LITTLE BEASTS THROUGH THE CASTLE

WASN'T DIFFICULT. They weren't particularly quiet, making it
exceptionally easy. While Jon was busy speaking with the Hand, Sansa,
Yelena Stark was busy chasing a thief through Winterfell. Ghost and Lishay
were no help, lazing about and seeming entirely uninterested in catching the
target. She quickly descended the steps to the crypt, following the noise. She
stopped by the statue of Lyanna Stark, hearing it again. She crept up quietly,
and both of them burst out, running desperately for the exit. Not a chance,
She thought, rushing forwards. She lunged, reaching out and finally catching
them. "Got you!" a grin split her face at the stream of giggles and squeals
that followed as the twins squirmed against her grasp. "Come on. Give it
here." with a sigh, Robb finally handed over the face that he'd stolen from
Arya's room. She rolled her eyes a bit. "She really needs to keep these out of
reach."

"Sorry about that." the other woman stepped from the shadows, making
Yelena smile a bit as she handed over the face. "Have fun getting those two
ready."

The queen laughed as Arya strode off again, offering her children her hands
as she stood. "Ly-yanna." the little girl sounded out, pointing to the statue.

Yelena smiled. "That's right. Very good, Myrcella. Come along now, pups."
with each of her children holding one hand, she headed up into the light of
the courtyard where preparations for tonight's feast were coming along,
everyone bustling about.

"Your Grace," a boy from the kitchens came running up. "I'm so sorry, but
we've missed something in our accounting. It seems an entire course is
missing."

She looked around, letting out a sharp whistle, and Lishay and Ghost came
running over, both of them about the size of horses, though Lishay was a bit
bigger. "Up you go." She lifted Myrcella onto Ghost's back and Robb onto
Lishay's. "Find Jon." she told them, and the wolves loped off, the children
giggling as they held on tight. She turned to give the kitchen boy a soft smile.
"What's your name?"

"Peter, Your Grace."

"Don't worry Peter, we'll get it sorted. Would you mind showing me?"

"Of course." With a little bow he led her off to one of the kitchen storage
rooms where it seemed that something on the list was indeed missing. She
figured out what was wrong quickly.

"We took out this course and replaced it with mutton and duck for the
Dothraki. We didn't know she was bringing some of them before." dealing
with the stores was much easier now than it had been for thousands of years.
It seemed that when the Night King was vanquished neary six years ago, the
long winter had dissipated with it, leaving Westeros in regular annual seasons
again, something no one living had witnessed. Children grew up without
fearing the Long Night, and everyone lived and died in the sun's light each
day, even through the five to six months of winter.

The poor lad Peter, however, was nearly tripping over himself trying to
apologise. "I'm so sorry, Your Grace. I never meant to bother you for
something so trivial, I-"

She stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Please don't worry. I'm
more than happy to help." He gave a nervous smile, seeming to relax as he
nodded. "Go on then. Back to work." with another nod and bow, he
scrambled off, and Yelena headed back out to find her husband and children.
She found him in Myrcella's room, tangling himself up in the bow on her
dress while she waited patiently and Robb rolled about on the bed laughing
at him.
A little laugh escaped the queen's lips, making Jon look up at her. "Maybe I
should have come to find you."

She snorted. "Maybe?" he glared at her, and she chuckled, quickly

untangling the ribbon from his arms and tying a neat bow on her daughter's
dress. For a girl who hated ribbons and bows growing up, she'd gotten good
at them on Myrcella's outfits, for the little one seemed to love them. She
stood, scooping up the still-giggling Robb from the bed and setting him
against her hip. "Now, this time your father doesn't have to worry about any
silk or bows or any of that. You think he can do it?" An adorable smile fell
on his lips as he nodded. Yelena grinned. "Good. Here you go." She passed
the boy off to Jon before heading for the door. "I'm going to get ready. You
take care of Robb. make sure Ghost stays with Myrcella. I don't want her
getting into any more trouble before our guests arrive." she made a squinty
face at the little girl, making her erupt into a fit of laughter before heading off
to get changed herself. Jon watched after her in amazement. He'd never had a
mother, and so Yelena's love for their children touched his heart in a way
nothing else ever had.

In the room she shared with Jon, she slid into a beautiful black dress that
buttoned down the front with bronze flower imprints which glittered softly in
the light. The midsection was corset belted and there was a large hood
surrounded by thick fur that settled nicely around her shoulders when she left
it down. She tugged on boots next, and reached for her simple crown, setting
it atop her beautifully braided hair. Normally she would have gone for
something a bit simpler, a bit more practical, but it was a formal event, and
getting pretty could be fun sometimes, she'd discovered. Finally, she clasped
the wolf pendant around her throat, letting out a soft sigh as she smiled at her
reflection. Five years had gone by since the war had ended, since she'd
become Queen Yelena Stark. Five years of peace in the North, peace in the
South, and peace between them. Three years since her beautiful twins Robb
and Myrcella had come into her life. She'd grown since then. True, she was
still the same height (a very intimidating five foot two), but she was wiser,
more patient, happier. She blinked, the sounds of horns pulling her from her
thoughts.

When she emerged, she found her Uncle Jamie by the door. He gave a little
bow as he smiled. "Shall we, Your Grace?"

She chuckled. "We shall." They headed off to the courtyard where she found
Jon, Robb, Myrcella, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Lishay and Ghost already waiting.
She smiled softly as she stepped into her place and Jamie stepped into his.
She hadn't seen her in years...

Gasps filled the air as a mighty roar echoed across the skies, the sound of
thundering horse hooves approaching from the Kingsroad. Then they saw the
beast as it swooped low, letting out another call. They heard the sound of it
landing outside the castle, soft growls rippling in the breeze. And then she
came riding in on her beautiful white horse, her Queensguard and Hand by
her sides. Yelena smiled as her eyes met Tyrion's. Daenerys slid from the
back of her steed, striding over to the Queen of the North. A moment of
silence passed, and Yelena's mind flashed back to this exact same place
thirteen years ago when her father came to Winterfell. "Daenerys Stormborn
of House Targaryen," she intoned. "First of her Name, Queen of the Six
Kingdoms, the Andals, the Rhyonar and the First Men, Protector of the
Realm, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of
Chains and Mother of Dragons," she managed to keep straight face. "You
find yourself in the home and presence of Yelena of House Stark and House
Baratheon, First of her Name, Lady of Winterfell and Queen of the North,
the Trueblood, the Princess of Westeros, Bringer of Peace, the Cold Sword,
Call of the Wolf, and Defiant of Death." The two were silent and stone faced
for a moment. And then they broke out into laughter, stepping forward into a
hug. "I've missed you Dany."

She smiled. "I missed you too. And you Jon." she pulled him into a hug as
well before her eyes traveled to the twins, becoming soft as her smile
widened. "Are these..."

"Robb and Myrcella Stark." Yelena nodded with a smile. "Pups, this is Aunt
Dany."

Myrcella's eyes became the size of moons. "Aunt Da-ny? Dro-Dr-Drogon?"

Her mother laughed. "Yes, that was Drogon. We'll see him later."
"Well well, if it isn't my favourite sister."

Her eyes widened as she looked up to see a man with black hair and eyes
bluer than the sky as he grinned at her. "Gendry!" she rushed over into a hug.
"I didn't know you were coming!" she laughed.

He shrugged. "Wanted to keep it a surprise." The two had communicated

plenty by raven in the past five years, and Yelena had gotten to know her
brother better, though she rarely saw him. She looked around, smiling as she
watched Jamie hug Tyrion. She'd missed having them all together.

She clapped her hands loudly, and the courtyard fell silent. "If we could
please have things brought into guest rooms. Welcome, southern friends to
the home of the wolf. Make it your home too as we enjoy our time together!"

That night was an amazing feast. The last time Winterfell held a feast for a
southern ruler, she hadn't ever seen it, having fled to her room, but now she
took in all its splendor, enjoying the sights, sounds and smells. They ate and
laughed, the children met Drogon, old friends caught up... and Yelena knew
that no matter how much they had lost to get here, this life was worth living.
That love was worth living for in the end.

A/N
So, that's it, kin d of a cheesy ending, but I felt like Yelena needed a
break from all the tragedy. I'm sad to say this is the end, but I'll be back
soon with another story. I love you all so much and can't thank you
enough for the reads, the votes, and just the general support. You are the
reason I write.

Love, Eclipse
 ḽelena Çacts

A/N:
I wasn't feeling any inspiration for my Harry Potter fanfic today, so
instead of posting a new chapter for that, I thought I'd do this. There will
be sad facts, happy facts, facts that don't really mean anything. Just
random little things about Yelena Baratheon that I didn't include in the
book. Hope you enjoy!

- Her favourite colour used to be red

- It changed to green when she began to despise the Lannister name

- She had a mental breakdown the day she learned of Robb's death
because they wouldn't let her give him a proper burial

- She stopped praying, even in her thoughts after his death

- She still believed in the gods but realised they must not care at all if they
let someone as truly good as him die

- She never had servants tend to the crypts after she became Queen in the
North

- She tended to them herself; it was a calming task, and it helped her feel
that even if she couldn't save her chosen family, she could do them this
small kindness in death

- She won a drinking competition with Tormund

- Jon didn't seem to mind taking care of her hangover the next day
- She almost didn't name her daughter Myrcella because one of her
biggest regrets was not being able to save her and not showing her enough
love before she died

- She's bisexual

- She'd sometimes wake from night terrors and think she saw
Joffrey watching her from the corner of the room (after the last war)

- She wasn't the best singer, but sometimes she would catch Jon humming
to their children

- When Jamie died, she began to pray again

- She prayed that he would not see Cersei in whatever came after death, that
he would never have to return to her mother's claws

- She forbid anyone from speaking of Cersei to her children and she never
kept anything to remember the woman by

- No one ever saw her cry, even as a child because she thought it showed
weakness, and she knew any sign of weakness would make people put her
right back in the same box as every other girl

- Jon couldn't stop laughing when he found out she was afraid of spiders

- He stopped laughing when she discovered he was afraid of them too

- She slapped Tormund for stopping her from going after Jon (when they
went north of the wall to find a white walker to prove the threat to
Cersei)

- Tormund let her

- She's a match for Brienne with a blade

- She handed her bannermen over to Gendry when she became a Stark and
apologised for threatening his lungs

- She never regretted letting the child Cercei carried when executed die
- She kept the Baratheon name in her titles because girl was a
HARDCORE FEMINIST and she believed her name should be allowed to
live on too

- She was terrified of messing up her children like Cersei did

- She knows how to make daisy bracelets

- She spoke to her mother once of thinking she'd be a good queen and her
mother told her never to think such things "for when you play the game of
thrones, you win or you die." When she got the raven form Daenerys saying
Cersei was dead she whispered, "I won, mother."