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Chapter 7: CH7 The Second TalkChapter Text

Author's Notes: This was really difficult to write, I don't know why. Anyway, it's finished and I hope you all enjoy it. Don't forget to review! :D Warning! Cat bashing ahead!

Chapter 7 The Second Talk

Jon Targaryen

He stared after Bran, internally wincing at Bran's usual tactless Three Eyed Raven explanation. He turned back and looked to see his uncle's reaction.

Since they'd sat down, there had been many expressions on uncle's face. Horror and rage being the predominant expressions he'd seen. When they'd spoken of the Red Wedding, he'd felt that father was restraining himself from gathering men and riding for the Twins.

But now....

He'd never seen this look on his uncle's face before. He recognized it after a moment. It was the same one he'd seen staring back at him after Ygritte had died. Loss. A look of loss.

He looked to Robb...he looked lost. Not just feeling the loss but completely lost and alone. Jon frowned internally, he remembered his headstrong and proud brother...the man sitting next to him now only marginally resembled his dear brother, no...his cousin.

He sighed quietly, he knew they would take it hard. Too many things had changed over the years after they were gone. And there was still more surprise to come. He cast a look at Sansa, who returned an unhappy and exasperated look before giving him a pointed look and jerk of her head at her father.

He understood her, she was mad at Bran...a useless emotion considering how unreacting he was now, but they still had important points to explain. The original plan for starters and how they might start once Bran had his look around Westeros and Essos.

Jon cleared his throat and began, "Uncle..."

Ned jerked and turned to face him with a startled expression on his face.

"...Uncle we still have much to talk about. We had a plan and even with this turn of events we should still have many allies." Jon paused heavily, "Both here in the North and in the South."

His uncle stared at him, open surprise now written on his face. Robb's had the same surprise at this remark.

His uncle sat forward in his chair giving Jon all his attention, "Tell me more."

Jon nodded and began speaking, explaining the reasons behind the plan.

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Robb Stark

Yesterday he had been a King. The first King in the North in three hundred years. He'd had a beautiful, caring wife he loved. And he was soon to be a father...

And now...he'd lost it all...

Yesterday, he had two brothers he'd loved and now...he'd lost them as well. Sweet, smiling Bran, who had trouble loosing arrows, who was always climbing, was gone, replaced with whatever manner of creature this Three Eyed Raven was. His half-brother, dour Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell had never been his brother in the first place. Jon had never been a bastard either. He was Jon of House Targaryen, a Dragon Prince and the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. His aunt Lyanna's only son. Aunt Lyanna, a woman that neither father nor uncle Benjen ever talked about. Their faces would just close off whenever she came up and they would immediately change the subject.

Does Uncle Benjen know the truth? Does he know about Jon as well?

Jon was speaking again, but Robb could barely bring himself to pay attention. He knew the words were important, he willed himself to pay attention.

Jon was talking about the Others. About the Night's King. How too much of the Seven Kingdom's strength had been spent on battling each other. Even reinforced by Daenerys's army of Unsullied and Dothraki, they had been no match for the Others.

Unsullied? Robb shuddered as he remembered what Maester Luwin had taught him about them. And Dothraki? They actually crossed the Narrow Sea? What did Daenerys do to make them do that?

Jon continued, there were missteps and mistakes at the beginning of the war. Some stupid, some completely unexpected. As he explained, who would have believed that the Night's King could bring a dragon down with a single spear? They were all overwhelmed, completely and utterly, even with the remaining dragons.

It was a very bleak and unimaginable picture that Jon painted.

The plan, as Jon explained was to undo the damage of the War of Five Kings and every other battle that came after that.

That had been Bran's plan, and with the help of the Children of the Forest and Stannis's Red Priestess.

"The Children of the Forest?" it took Robb a second to realise he'd spoken up in surprise.

Jon nodded gravely, "Aye, there are some living on the Isle of Faces, some others beyond the Wall."

"Oh..." Robb muttered dumbly. Another legend come alive.

Jon continued on, after giving Robb an easy smile.

Robb frowned and realised quickly, Jon was smiling more, he didn't seem to be as dour as before. He shook his head...there were so many changes, it all made his mind spin.

Jon finally began explaining the plan that Bran had hatched. He would use blood magic, to send back a select group of people, who would manipulate things from the shadows and prepare the Seven Kingdoms for the coming Long Night.

The quiet surrounded them after Jon finished his initial explanation.

"What went wrong?" Ned asked seriously after a moment of reflection.

Jon shook his head, "I don't know...The Others knew where we had to be to perform the spell. They were attacking us on the Isle of Faces, we were prepared and we were buying time for Bran." he finished grimly.

Robb went pale as he understood the meaning of Jon's final words. Buying time...just as he had done with his men at the Green Fork.

"What happened next?" asked father hesitantly.

"We fought. We died...and then I woke up here," Jon replied. "And too many people remember. All of this was not part of the plan."

Father's face twisted into look of dismay.

"Whatever happened, has happened," cut in Sansa tersely, "We can only deal with the situation in front of us, if people elsewhere remember then our first step must be to secure the North. The Manderlys, the Reeds, the Glovers, the Mormonts, the Forresters can all be relied upon to be loyal no matter who remembers." She paused and gave a father a steely look, "But, in all cases, the Bolton's must die." she pronounced with the same sternness as father at an execution.

He stared at his sister not recognizing her. There was a predatory look in Sansa's eyes as she said it. Her eyes were sharp and angry, it was a look that had no place in his sweet, innocent, song obsessed sister's eyes.

Father was now giving Sansa a very disturbed look, "They may have betrayed us in the future but they have yet to commit any action against us."

A part of Robb wanted to contradict his father, but instead he flinched as a very wolfish smile appeared on his sweet sister's normally placid face.

"Roose Bolton is already guilty of many heinous crimes against his own sworn vassals." she announced confidently.

Father frowned, "Explain."

Sansa took a deep breath, "Father, the Boltons have never stopped flaying people. I saw in the Dreadfort their flaying room, both Roose and Ramsay had prisoners there in varying states."

Robb recoiled at Sansa's words, the implications of her words were brutal and unbelievable.

"...Ramsay's favourite hunt, was to chase helpless maidens thorough the woods, with his bow and his hounds. Each and every time, he would finish, by feeding these innocent girls to his hounds."

Robb shook at her words, Ramsay Bolton? Who is this Ramsay? What manner of beast is he?

"...that beast is already hunting and has hunted. Do you think that Roose Bolton would be ignorant of such things on his own lands? Under his own nose?" Sansa questioned rhetorically.

Robb blanched and father's face turned red with anger, his eyes cold as ice.

"How do you know this?" he demanded of Sansa gruffly.

"Ramsay was my second husband. He and his whore, the Kennel Master's daughter, boasted of this to me after he killed his father," Sansa paused and put so much venom into her coming words, "That beast became Warden of the North. And his first act as Warden, was to feed his stepmother and his new born half brother to his hounds. Walda may have been a Frey, but she did not deserve her fate...even if you do nothing, the other Lords will rise up against the Boltons for Ramsay Bolton's other actions." she finished sternly.

Robb tried to imagine this beast as Sansa's husband but it was too much for him, his blood boiled at the thought. Mother who had been very quiet for quite some time, reacted to that, he could see her hands clenched, her knuckles white as she stared at her eldest daughter in mortification.

He turned to look at father's reaction to Sansa's words. There was blood vessel in father's forehead that looked like it was going to explode now. Father's tone was colder now, than he had ever heard before, "That is more than enough. They will die." there was a finality to father's tone that brokered no compromise.

Sansa gave father the predatory smile from before, and sat back satisfied. "Good, then let us move on to our next step. After removing House Bolton, we should speak to the Karstarks."

Robb winced as he imagined how that confrontation would go-especially if Lord Rickard remembered as they did.

Father was caught flat footed at Sansa's sudden change of topic, "The Karstarks?"

"Aye uncle, they stood with the Boltons when we took back Winterfell," Jon explained.

"...It was my fault," Robb cut in guilty. He began speaking in detail of his mistakes with them.

Father grimaced as Robb finished explaining what happened with Rickard Karstark and his sons. And Rickard's murder of Kevan Lannister's sons.

"Executing Lord Karstark could not have been avoided, not after he'd murdered those boys." Ned said gravely after a moment of introspection.

Robb looked at his father in surprise.

Father cast an annoyed look at mother, causing her to sink further into her chair, "Jaime Lannister should not been released for any reason." Mother looked even more contrite now. "If he remembers...he has his sons back again, and considering how close the Karhold is to the Wall, I doubt rallying him against the Others will be an issue. Afterwards..." he shook his head, "Rickard's prickly pride will be difficult to deal with."

"Alys Karstark will help with that," Sansa added, before casting an annoyed look at Jon, who returned the look with a sudden smug, half smile, "And the fact that Jon didn't take the Karhold from her, after her father's betrayal."

Jon cleared his throat and gave Sansa an amused and pointed look.

Sansa let out a disgruntled sigh, "Yes, your decision not to take their ancestral homes from the Karstarks and the Umbers was the right decision."

Jon gave her a mocking smile in return.

Wait...Umber? Thought Robb in shock, he went over Sansa's first pronouncements and realised that she hadn't mentioned House Umber's position. Surely neither the Greatjon or Smalljon would have betrayed them? His mind went to all his battles in the Riverlands and how Smalljon had stood with him. He had been one of his most loyal bannerman.

"The Umbers? The Greatjon...betrayed us?" asked father in astonishment.

The jovial look on Jon's face disappeared and was replaced with an angry scowl, "You're right, the Greatjon would never betray us. But he was dead...and the Smalljon...he gave Rickon to Ramsay Bolton."

Robb cast a look at Rickon, who was nodding now.

"He killed Shaggydog," added Rickon mournfully.

Robb felt hollow now, the Bolton's killed Rickon, and it was the Smalljon's fault. This betrayal cut deeper than he imagined, he remembered his friend and loyal companion. His mind couldn't imagine him doing what Jon and Sansa were saying.

"Ned Umber will stand with us and he has stood with us, just as Alys will," Sansa spoke assuredly.

Father stared between Jon and Sansa his face unreadable now. He turned suddenly to Arya, "You have been very quiet...and very still. You have nothing to add to this?"

Robb frowned, now that father mentioned it, Arya had been abnormally quiet after her first words, he'd almost forgotten that she was standing there.

Arya shrugged, "I've already said what I wanted to say." she said evenly, her tone was not as emotionless as Bran's had been, but it was close.

She's changed as well...Robb thought sadly.

Father stared about him, closely scrutinizing Jon, Sansa and Arya, his eyes unreadable. He focused on each for several moments before sighing deeply.

"It is late," father eventually intoned gravely, "Go and rest. There is little else we can do today till Brandon...finishes whatever he is doing, correct?" Jon and Sansa nodded at this. He paused, running a hand roughly over his face. "There is...too much I must think on now."

Robb rose obediently with the rest of his siblings and Jon. Mother hesitated and then rose as well, the pensive and downtrodden look still on her face.

"Stay, Cat." called out father.

Robb cast a quick look at his mother as she turned paler at father's command.

"Of course, my lord," she said quietly.

Robb and the others filled out quickly, none of them wanted to be here for what was probably coming. The door closed as he cast one last look, to see father approaching a trembling mother.

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The Three eyed Raven

He spread his wings and flew.

He followed the skeins of time and watched. He looked to what had changed and what hadn't. He lost himself in time. He remembered how the spell had gone out of control, the sheer power of the number of the sacrifices had cast the spell's power to heights he hadn't imagined or seen in any of his visions.

Even now, he was still slightly dazed, too much power channeled in one person or one place was dangerous...as the Valyrians had found out, first hand.

The power should have been barely enough for their closest allies to remember, he would have pushed the minds of their future selves into their bodies of old. But instead he'd been forced to make sure that their enemies didn't remember. To force the power not to go down certain threads and into their enemies.

Euron Greyjoy. Cersei Lannister. Petyr Baelish. Their paths had been blocked first and foremost. Then Roose and Ramsay Bolton...maybe. Some power had already traveled uncontrolled down those paths before he'd cut the threads.

After that, other threads had been cut, others that stood against them, in the end it was too much to follow every thread, he'd been forced to channel the power towards areas filled with allies. Probable allies at least.

He looked to see what his handiwork had wrought, images came to his mind's eye. Flashing by in the blink of an eye.

He saw a Lion with a seven pointed star carved on his forehead ringing a great bell. He saw a radiant rose, wither and die. Two stags raged about a city, antlers dripping blood while a third wallowed, silent and brooding. A pride of lions running. A mockingbird lay unmoving and bleeding. Another pride of lions turning on their leader and then bowing to the littlest one. A Kraken cast out her arms to grasp an entire island. He saw a small, lone dragon standing on a precipice.

Caw! CAW! I see you! What have you done? Cawed another Three Eyed Raven as it flew at him and beat its wings angrily at him.

He cawed back, What had to be done! He stared flying away from the angry raven, putting some distance between them.

The Raven stopped attacking him and stared at him, We will see, it said cryptically before flying away, cawing darkly.

Shaken Bran withdrew slowly, trying to regain his bearings. Suddenly, he could hear someone calling out to him. He withdrew completely and returned to his body, in the Godswood of Winterfell.

He opened his eyes and found Ser Rodrick standing in front of him, looking disturbed and aggravated.

"Lord Brandon," Ser Rodrick began tersely.

"How many remember?" Bran quickly asked.

"Many. I'd say at least two thirds of the castle." Ser Rodrick answered, his eyes filled with suspicion.

Bran frowned, that matched what he had been trying to do, he'd sent a lot of power to Winterfell. The loyalty of the people here was unquestioned...at least in all matters bar Theon.

He cast a look at Ser Rodrick, "You cannot kill Theon."

Ser Rodrick bristled, outright anger replacing his suspicion, "Lord Brandon, have you forgotten what he did?"

"I forget nothing now."

Ser Rodrick's anger didn't abate, "He executed me! And not cleanly! He betrayed our cause! He betrayed Robb! Our King, your own brother! He betrayed you!"

"His actions have been undone. You are alive. The people of Winterfell are alive. Yara Greyjoy wants her brother back." he replied simply.

"And so he is to have no punishment, then?" spat Ser Rodrick.

Bran blinked once then replied, "Ramsay Bolton, tortured him, flayed him and gelded him. Then he kept Theon as a pet in his kennels. Despite all that, he later saved Sansa and they escaped together from Ramsay."

Whatever Ser Rodrick had been gearing up to say disappeared with those words. He stared for several moments, opening and closing his mouth, finally he said gleefully, "Aye, that would be a special hell for the fucking squid." he paused then added, "He saved Sansa?"

Bran nodded.

Ser Rodrick frowned, "He still hurt us more than helped! And his punishment has been undone as well. He should receive some punishment now."

Bran shook his head, "You have to let it go."

"Let it go? These were our people! Our friends and families! Where is your loyalty to our people?" he demanded irately.

Bran blinked at him, "I'm loyal to Jon. He's our rightful King."

Rodrick consternation turned into a frown of confusion, "Robb was our King and your father is alive again now. If anyone here is a King now, it's Lord Eddard. Your half brother is not even a trueborn son of House Stark, never mind a King."

"He's not my brother. He's my aunt Lyanna's only trueborn son." Bran explained simply.

Rodrick frowned again for a moment, before his eyes widened and his mouth fell open in surprise. He gaped for a moment before finding his voice, in a hoarse whisper he said, "Lyanna's son? Then his father is..."

"...Rhaegar Targaryen." Bran finished for him.

Ser Rodrick puffed up red with rage, "Then how can he be a trueborn son? That bastard prince raped Lady Lyanna!"

"No he didn't. Robert's rebellion was built on a lie. She went willingly with Rhaegar."

Rodrick fell silent and unmoving, the red draining quickly from his face. He was very pale now. He didn't say anything else just stood there staring.

Bran returned his stare for a minute before dismissing him, "Thank you Ser Rodrick, I still have more to do now," he said with a nod, turning back to the Heart tree.

Ser Rodrick left without another word, looking more disturbed than when he first came to the Godswood.

Bran paid him no more attention as he focused on the Heart tree. He left his body again and flew once more.

More images came to him and he began to think deeply.

Even with those he prevented from remembering, Daenerys was in trouble, surrounded by enemies and with little power of her own or her dragons. The lone dragon on her precipice.

He thought hard about what to do to help her, and after a many moments of contemplation, the beginning of an idea came to him. He nodded to himself.

Yes, that could work.

He knew what to do now. A few quick modifications to her part of the plan could work. He cast out his mind and began weaving the dreams together, before casting them forward to the minds he wanted to touch.

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Eddard Stark

Ned rose from his chair as his family left, coming out from behind his desk, he came to stand in front of Cat. She stood there pale and trembling. Deep down, he wanted to reach out and grab Cat, holding her tight. Reassure her that everything was fine, that it would turn out alright.

But he couldn't, the Others were coming. The Long Night was returning and before that, the Seven Kingdoms stood at the precipice of a war they could not afford. No one could afford any more rash mistakes.

"My Lord?" Cat's voice trembled with nervousness. Gone was all of her pride, all that was left was an old woman. The lines on her face stood out, making her look gaunt, gone was her mask. Her emotions were laid bare in front of him.

But he couldn't go easy on her.

Too many mistakes had been committed. Too many wrongs to let it pass. He had to show her, her mistakes. Her errors of judgment. He couldn't be her husband now, he needed to be the Lord of Winterfell now.

"What were you thinking, Cat?" he demanded angrily.

Her trembling increased, "My lord?" she repeated in a timid voice.

"What madness possessed you? You took Tyrion Lannister hostage! You forced me to act! You knew things were already precarious in King's Landing and yet you still did it! I had to act, otherwise I would have weakened my position...such as it was," Ned lamented angrily. "You took precious time away from me to deal with the Lannisters. You usurped my authority! And for what?"

Cat swallowed skittishly, "I am sorry my lord...I couldn't allow him to escape free for what he did to Bran."

"And for that you doomed us to war?" Ned demanded, eyes narrowing in exasperation at her shortsightedness. "So you defied me and acted. Acted against me?"

Cat couldn't meet his eyes and gazed downwards in shame. He reached out, grabbing her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. Her face turned red, she tried to flinch away from his implacable eyes, but he kept her still.

Finally after a long tense moment, he let go of her chin and stepped away, pacing back and forth in front of his desk.

"Forgive me my lord...I did not think," she eventually stammered in contrition.

He stopped pacing and turned back to her.

"No...no, you did not think." he replied darkly, "And it is a recurring issue with you." he paused and glared at her, "After all these years together I see that you are still a Southern Lady. You have not embraced the North as I once thought. From the Sept to the raising of our daughters and your treatment of Jon...you have not grasped the way of the North. And we all suffered for it."

Cat frowned, "Ned...that is too far. I know I made some mistakes-"

"Some mistakes?!" roared Ned angrily. "You undermined our son with his own bannermen! In a time of war! In the North, men have been executed for less! What were you thinking releasing Jaime Lannister?! He should not have been released...not even for our daughters!"

Cat went white as a sheet and stilled.

Ned continued his tirade unabated, "Aye, Robb made a mistake with this Talisa, but you should never have promised him to Walder Frey in the first place. Nor Arya. I married you to secure the Riverlands, the entirety of the Riverlands, not a single House's loyalty. An entire kingdom. It was the right choice at the time. Robb and Arya? That promise you made with the Freys was not."

Ned stopped and rubbed his face, trying to clear his head as Cat stood still, not daring to utter another word in the face of his raging temper. He felt the wolfsblood burning in him, he rarely let it out. An idle part of his thoughts turned to his brother, Brandon. The wolfsblood had been too strong there, he thought mournfully. He controlled his rising ire and turned back to Cat.

"By the god's Cat! You have to think more! Think of the consequences of your actions! If you had, could the Red Wedding have been avoided? Robb went from having three important Lannister hostages to two and then none! That first action freed up Tywin's hand. He could afford to be utterly ruthless and treacherous! While Robb held Jaime, he was paralysed, unable to truly act against Robb! He would never have dared risk so much if Jaime's life still lay at a knife's edge!"

Tears were streaming down her face as she stood there and took his reprimand in silence.

He walked up to her. He stood in front her as she trembled with grief and shame, more tears cascading down her face as the words finally seemed to pierce her thick skull.

He pulled Cat to him and held her tight. He felt her arms squeeze him back, "I am angry beyond belief with you, but I still love you," he spoke into her ear, the bite in his tone gone, replaced with a deep and loving one. "We've had too many years together for anything less, but...things will change Cat. Many things will change." Gone now was the Lord of Winterfell and in his place stood Ned Stark, loving husband and dutiful father.

Cat began to sob into his arms and he just held her. For so many moments he just stood there as solid as the Wall, his calm demeanor comforting his dear wife.

He stroked her hair tenderly, "You will truly listen to me from now on," he paused and added, "And to our children. And to Jon."

He felt her head moving against his chest she nodded obediently.

He pulled back from her and met her tear stained eyes, "We will stay together this time, we will change our fate, and we will survive what is coming! And then...Winter will come to the South! I promise you that!"