26

Notes :-

Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter! Glad everyone enjoyed the cliffhanger :D ;p That said, I think a lot of you need to go back and re-watch the Shae/Tyrion scenes, her death scene in particular and the others in general. There are answers to most of your questions there. Also, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned- hence the previous chapter name. Anyway, on to the new chapter! Writing the Roose POV was like pulling teeth, I knew what I wanted to write but it just took forever to finish it. Anyway, don't forget to review! :D

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 26 Dread

Roose Bolton

Roose stood on the battlements of the Dreadfort as he stared at the approaching men, in trepidation. Too many things were different. And not enough made sense. The raven he'd received from Lord Stark had commanded him to stay in the Dreadfort and await his coming. Stark hadn't given any more details other than that .

The men approaching the Dreadfort were proudly flying the Stark Direwolf but it wasn't flying along. Reed and Manderly banners flew side by side. The number of the men accompanying were also not putting Roose at ease. Why did Eddard need so many men with him?

Things had changed and he had no idea why. Those that did were not speaking to him of it. Ravens to his own bannermen had gone unanswered and any messengers he sent to them never returned.

The only news he had had, had been brought to him by a half dead, very bedraggled and traumatized Whitehill guardsman that been half crazy when he arrived at the Dreadfort. The man had been crazed and screaming of an unwarranted surprise attack on House Whitehill by House Forrester .

The flaring up the Whitehill-Forrester feud was not surprising. A night surprise attack by the Forresters was . Lord Gregor Forrester, Lord Gregor the Good . That the guard was claiming that this honorable lord had mercilessly attacked Highpoint was ludicrous. He'd had the man thrown into the dungeons. Soon enough he'd have true answers to his questions.

Roose shook his head, too much no longer made any sense and he could trace it all back to that one night. Vestiges of a forgotten dream tried to come to the surface of his mind but it was just whispers on the wind...a half formed image....a wedding. Why a wedding ? What was so important about a wedding ? The dreams and the wedding seemed to be trying to haunt him since that night.

That was the night everything had changed...

Half of his men had deserted that night. Half of the smallfolk had fled the Dreadfort without any explanation and those that had stayed couldn't explain why the other half had disappeared so suddenly.

The only explanation he'd been given had been half whispered words about knowing the future and what was coming. Magic had been joined to those words as well.

It was impossible and insane.

But then again, for more than half the population of the Dreadfort and the surrounding lands to suddenly up and leave with no explanation was impossible and insane.

But now, perhaps he would get some rational answers.

Men were approaching the Dreadfort. A large number of them, enough to call an army. Normally that many men approaching would be a cause for disquiet and alarm, but at the head of the men, came Eddard Stark and his sons.

Whatever may be happening, Eddard Stark was still an honorable, predictable fool. And Roose had done nothing to gain Eddard's ire.

He watched silently as they approached.

The first sign that something was not right was came as the men came close enough for Roose to get a good look at the head of the column.

He frowned as he stared at Ned's bastard. His eyes widened in surprised as the boy neared. The boy wore fine clothes, finer than a bastard usually wore...but instead of the direwolf insignia of House Stark on his clothes, stitched brazenly over his chest was the red dragon of House Targaryen.

A sliver of ice worked his way into his gut. Why was the bastard wearing Targaryen colours? Roose stilled the uncertainty in him and steeled himself, keeping his face blank as he looked about as the men approached.

As the men entered the Dreadfort, Roose quickly left the battlements and went to greet them in the courtyard despite his sudden misgivings.

Lord Stark, his sons and some of his men dismounted in the courtyard of the Dreadfort. The rest remained mounted and sat watchful and waiting. It took Roose a moment but he recognized a stoic Howland Reed standing deferentially to Lord Stark's side.

Lord Stark strode forward at the head of the group, his bastard stood to his left with his heir on the other side. Lord Stark's face was mask of stone. The bastard had an identical expression on his face as his father, but Robb Stark's eyes held such hate in them, that Roose nearly recoiled from it. A smaller figure came out from behind them and stood between Stark and his bastard.

Blank emotionless eyes stared up at him. The intensity of the gaze disturbed Roose. Usually, it was his gaze that disturbed people not the other way around. A small boy's expression should not be enough to scare the Lord of the Dreadfort.

He stepped forward to greet his liege lord, collecting himself as his expression turned guarded and blank, "Welcome to the Dreadfort, Lord Stark," he bowed deeply.

"Lord Bolton," Stark nodded gravely, his expression darkened. His tone was cold as ice. He didn't add anything more.

Roose glanced about warily waiting for Lord Stark to continue...but he didn't.

He shifted uncomfortably, "Lord Stark, I...there are questions." he stated simply breaking the silence.

Lord Stark's gaze remained cool, he raised his hand towards his bastard and caused Roose's world to come crashing down with Stark's next words.

"Bend the knee my Lord, to my sister's son, Jon Targaryen, and our rightful King."

Roose couldn't help himself, he gaped at Eddard Stark. His mind was reeling with the implications and the new world he was being forced into.

Rebellion? Against Robert Baratheon? The honorable Eddard Stark rising up and seizing power over the Seven Kingdoms in his nephew's name? The world truly has gone mad!

Suddenly, all the men with Stark had more sinister overtures.

Roose's expression wasn't guarded or calculated. One couldn't prepare for such a sudden and impossible to predict paradigm shift in power.

"Our...King?" Roose's voice was higher than he wanted when he finally managed to retort, he quickly cleared his throat and asked again, "King, my lord?"

Stark nodded, "My sister's trueborn son," he stressed the word, trueborn.

Roose cast a look at Jon Targaryen. The boy looked back at him and Roose was startled by how hard and unforgiving his dark eyes were. The boy was pretty enough to pass for a Targaryen, but his colours spoke only of his Stark ancestry. He was young but neither his demeanor nor eyes betrayed his youth. He looked more like a veteran than a green boy.

"He doesn't need to bend the knee father!" cut in Lord Stark's heir, his voice venomous and angry, "He won't live long enough for it to matter! Seize him and let us be done here!" The boy suddenly had a sword in his hand and pointed towards to Roose.

Roose wasn't the only one in danger, the few Bolton men around them suddenly found themselves with bow's draw and pointed at them or with blades pointed at their throats by Stark's men.

Lord Stark had a look of surprise on his face, but his nephew cut him off, "Robb's right. Seize him! Take the castle!" commanded Jon Targaryen. He sounded more like a man used to command than the green boy he looked to be...he should have been.

Roose jerked about looking about in surprise as the Stark men ran to obey. Screams and the clash of steel on steel started to echo through the Dreadfort as his meager forces were taken by surprise by the Stark men.

It was over before he knew it, and all Roose could do was stand there with Robb Stark's, very steady, blade at his throat as the Dreadfort was sacked around him.

"There is much we have to discuss, Lord Bolton," Jon Targaryen declared firmly. He reached out and lowered Robb's blade.

Roose gave him a long look, much to discus was an understatement...

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

He'd been led to his own solar by the Starks and Targaryen King. Lord Reed had stayed behind to command the men and finish securing the Dreadfort. The young boy, apparently, Brandon Stark, had led them there as if he been there a thousand times. Maester Wolkan had met them there, he'd gave them all one look and then seemed to sag in relief for a moment before bowing deeply to Jon Targaryen calling him your grace.

Wolkan had known been silent. All these weeks and he'd been silent. Never once had he spoken a word to warn Roose or explain anything. That betrayal aside, upon reaching the solar, the Starks had woven an impossible tale for him. Death, betrayal and magic. Including Roose's own betrayal of the Starks and his murder of Robb Stark. The maester had confirmed much of the story before being sent from the solar to help Lord Reed control the castle.

And the Others...the army of the dead was coming. A second Long Night was coming and if he prepare his words properly, he'd likely not live to see it in all its horror.

Now, suddenly everything was starting to make impossible sense...and there was such a sense of dread in him. It was almost overpowering all of his senses.

"It was your dagger in my heart," spat Robb enraged. His eyes danced with restrained violence.

Robb's angry words added even more turmoil to his already scattered thoughts. Roose could taste just how precarious his position was now, his mind scrambled for words. "That was the other Roose, I have no recollection of this and you still live. I cannot be judged for what I have not done," he rebuffed, "I have always been loyal to House Stark." he finished firmly, a sense of assurance coming to him. Eddard Stark would not punish a man for something he hadn't done.

"Our blades are sharp. Always keep our blades sharp, the Starks think they are safe, but we will always be waiting...and ready to take what has been denied us for so long. Your father told you that, over and over again," Brandon finished speaking.

For the first time since he was a boy, Roose completely lost what was left of his composure and gaped again, "How? How can you know this!" Father had always reminded him of that...but only when they had been alone!

Brandon Stark just stared back and didn't answer.

Roose looked around him, Eddard and Jon were giving him hard stares. Robb's was down right murderous now.

Jon broke the silence, raising a hand, "Before we continue, there is one matter we must speak of...where is Ramsay?" he demanded, his face darkening as he spoke the name.

Roose was still reeling, but he answered simply, "He's dead. My men found what was left of him...it looked like his own dogs turned on him..."

Jon looked startled for a moment before twisting to look at Brandon, giving him a long stare and then letting out a heavy sigh as he started rubbing his face.

"What?" asked Eddard, frowning in confusion while looking at Jon.

"I told you what I was going to do," Brandon said, "I warged into his dogs and dealt with him. He's one less problem for us."

Warged? That word startled Roose greatly as even more magic was thrown at him.

Jon signed again, rubbing his head as Ned suddenly seemed to understand. He fumed and exploded.

"How could you Bran! We do not do such things!" Eddard cried out in anger, he turned to Jon his anger undimmed, "You will allow this?"

Jon's jaw clenched and unclenched, "Ruling the Seven Kingdoms is one thing...getting my siblings to obey me is a completely different issue." he said in a deadpan, his voice dripping with annoyance.

The emotionless boy choose that moment to speak up again, "At least it wasn't Sansa this time," he pointed out with an indifferent shrug.

Eddard Stark's face turned red.

Sansa? This time? It took Roose a moment to make sense of those words together. Oh...

Suddenly, the Starks seemed far more dangerous than he ever gave them credit. The ruthless streak of the Ancient Kings of Winter was very much alive and well in this generation of Starks.

Robb's murderous look had disappeared and been replaced with a shocked and stunned look.

Brandon frowned, "We have bigger issues to deal with."

The boy had just admitted to murdering Roose's bastard son to the honorable Eddard Stark and he just wanted to move past it as if nothing had happened?

Roose kept his amusement to himself, the boy had provided more than enough of a distraction for him to work with. Probably enough for him to save himself.

Instead of speaking further, Brandon moved behind Roose's desk and unerringly, opened the secret passage there...that no one outside of House Bolton had ever been shown.

And with that all his hopes came to naught. It was at that moment that Roose realised just how fucked he truly was...

Brandon turned to his father, "Come father, see all the Boltons have hidden from you and the Starks of old..."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Time became a blur for Roose. Eddard returned from the secret passages red faced and enraged beyond anything that Roose had ever seen. Not even Eddard's notorious argument with Robert Baratheon over the Targaryen children's fates had seen him this angry.

The torture chambers and centuries of Bolton secrets had been laid bare for the Lord of Winterfell...and he would make Roose pay in blood now.

Two Stark guards dragged him back out to the courtyard, a chopping bock had been hastily prepared by the Stark men.

Roose stared at it in disbelief. All he saw was the end of House Bolton. This truly would be the end of the Red Kings.

Stark men were gathered, Lord Howland Reed was glaring at him, undisguised disgust in the Crannogman's eyes, judging Roose as he approached his death.

The Captain of Eddard's guard grimly approached with a sheathed Ice, held out to his lord.

Robb grabbed Eddard's shoulder as he reached for the sheathed sword. "No father, he's mine. This is my betrayal to avenge." His words were heavy with death.

Eddard frowned, "No, I am Warden of the North. This is my duty to perform. He will pay all the people he has flayed under my watch."

"No, uncle, let Robb deal with him," the Targaryen King countermanded. His eyes were hard and brooked no argument.

Eddard's face was pinched, but he bowed stiffly, stepping back, "Yes, your Grace."

The murderous look was back on Robb's face. He unsheathed Ice with one smooth motion, the two guards forced Roose done onto his knees. Robb came to stand by the chopping block.

"I, Robb Stark, heir of Winterfell, in the name of Jon, the first of his name of House Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men sentence you to die."

Roose stared with baleful eyes at the Valyrian steel blade and the all consuming hate in Robb Stark's eyes.

The guards pushed Roose forward onto the block.

The blade rose.

"Enjoy the Hells," spat Robb Stark hateful and satisfied.

The blade came down.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Robb Stark

Ice felt heavy in his hands as he stared at Roose's corpse, as it lay at his feet.

Ever since they had awoken, so much had gnawed at his soul, crushing it. His failures and ultimately his brutal murder...Jon had tried to lighten the burden as a true brother would...it had helped some...but still so many mistakes haunted him. More than once he had wondered would the North follow him again? He'd be Lord of Winterfell one day, would they still follow him? He'd led them to ruin, his failures at times almost felt insurmountable. To much plagued his mind these days..but now with Roose dead his mind was clearer now...

He bent down and grabbed the Leech Lord's head from where it had rolled away, he held it up at eye level and smiled wolfishly at Roose's unseeing eyes.

"No more betrayals. Enjoy the hells you pale bastard...and be sure to give my regards to Lord Walder," he said with more satisfaction than he felt. Images of Talisa's broken body in a pool of her own blood haunting him as Roose's unseeing eyes stared back at him.

He turned around and found his father staring at him with an unreadable expression. Jon had a satisfied look on his face.

He held the head up triumphantly, "Justice, your Grace," he gave Jon a heavy nod.

Jon nodded back just as grim and dour as he always was, though there was something else in his eyes that Robb couldn't identify.

Jon turned to Jory, "Jory, put the head on a spike...and make sure you put it somewhere everyone can see it!" his face turned grimmer, "Take down all the Flayed Man banners and raise up Direwolf banners! Let everyone know the cost of betraying the Starks and the people of the North...and don't worry Sansa made sure we had enough Direwolf banners for this."

Jory cast a surprised look at Jon before hesitantly taking the head from Robb.

Robb watched Jory as he walked away to obey, a tightness he hadn't realised was in his chest had eased. Roose was dead. His bastard was dead- no matter how it happened. House Bolton was gone and would never return. They could never betray the Starks ever again.

"Wipe the blade," father ordered suddenly. He had an upset look on his face.

Robb started and looked down at Ice. The blade was red and dripping, stained with Roose Bolton's blood.

Robb nodded quickly, "Of course, father," he obeyed and wiped the blood off on Roose's corpse.

His father took the blade from him, the expression on his face hadn't changed.

"Father?" asked Robb as an uncertain frown came to his face.

His father sheathed Ice and used the strap to carry it over his shoulder. He looked between Robb and Jon before sighing uneasily.

"What now?" Father asked Jon gravely.

"We leave men to secure the Dreadfort and the former Bolton lands. For the foreseeable future, as we agreed these lands will be Stark lands. After we've dealt with the Others, you can do with the lands as you see fit, Uncle...but we need to get to the Karhold now. We will have to speak with Lord Karstark. He must renew his fealty to you," Jon reminded them, "But first ravens back to Sansa. We will need to appoint someone to oversee these lands for the time being," he paused thoughtfully, "she probably has someone in mind already, though she knows who I want here."

Father looked annoyed, "We should have decided this before we left Winterfell."

"I did, but I still need to hear from Sansa. Perhaps something new has happened since we left." Jon shook his head, "In any case, this is merely the first step. The Karhold and Last Heath must stand with us to heal the broken North."

Father looked less annoyed, maybe a little satisfied now.

"I'm not expecting a warm welcome when we get there," commented Robb in a deadpan. The Karhold and dealing with Rickard Karstark was something that he had been dreading since they left Winterfell. Even father hadn't been looking forward to it. The grim set to his features never seemed to leave him these days.

Not that he felt any better...he glanced down at the decapitated body of Roose Bolton. Alright, he did feel better. One less traitor to be dealt with.

Robb shot a look at were Bran had been standing watching, unflinching and silent even as Robb had executed Roose. Father's anger was under control but it was still there. Bran's words and actions had dealt with one other traitor, and sealed Robb's consternation over how Bran had changed. The Three Eyed Raven looked like his brother...but he wasn't Bran. Not by a long shot...

It mattered, but there wasn't really anything he could do about it now. All he could do was steel and prepare himself.

All too soon, he'd have to face Rickard Karstark again.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Qyburn

He hurried, they would be searching here soon enough. They were coming for him. He was coming for him...

He pulled up another floorboard, making enough room for him to hide his books. He'd wrapped the books in a thick fireproof wrap he'd made years back. Even when they set fire to his dwelling, the books and all the knowledge he'd accumulated in the last life would be saved. Quickly, he replaced the floorboards and pushed the bed back over the secret compartment in his hovel. He turned back to the door of his hovel, waiting for his coming doom.

This return, had initially, surprised and delighted him. It was a second chance to finish all the work. Things had taken a turn for the worse at the end of his last life. There was so much he'd learned and had been unable put into practice when it all came to an abrupt end.

Cersei had been a good patron- with the proper managing. Her rages and anger had been easy to direct, she'd had more than enough enemies to deal with, he hadn't actually had to make anything up. He'd used her for the free rein she'd given him for his experiments. Clegane and the others that he'd eventually made for her were more than enough to buy him the privacy and trust he'd needed to discover so much.

He sighed, and adjusted his robes, it had all come crashing down at the end, far too quickly for him to save any of his new found knowledge. Death had claimed him as all of Cersei's enemies had finally come for her and all who stood with her.

But then...this...second life had happened. Some remembered, others didn't enough for him to slip back into obscurity to record all his findings to save all that he had discovered. It had been a blessing! No a miracle- almost enough of one to make him believe in the Gods.

The screams from outside had stopped a while ago. The last of the villagers were probably dead by now.

He sighed again, I hope someone eventually finds my books....

There was shout outside that was answered by a very deep and angry bellow.

Qyburn composed himself, it would be unseemly to meet death any other way.

He knew who was coming for him now.

He didn't have to wait very long as the voices approached. The man's entrance did not disappoint. The door was smashed from it's hinges and created a small dust storm as it landed well away from the doorway.

When the dust settled, a monster in black metal stood blocking the doorway. The monster bent low to pass through the low doorway. Inside, he made the small hovel Qyburn had been living and working in seem even more cramped than it actually was.

The monster removed his helmet as he stretched to his full towering height.

Ser Gregor Clegane stood there in full plate, helmet in hand and the hilt of his greatsword poking out from behind his shoulder. His face held the same scowling, dark expression that had been the very last thing so many people had beheld, but it looked even darker than usual.

"You," the word dripped with hate as it left Ser Gregor's lips.

Qyburn didn't let his nervousness show. It was never good to let an animal know just how nervous you were. "Ser Gregor." He gave the knight a small respectful bow.

Gregor's scowl darkened even further.

Gregor seemed to close the distance between them with a single step.

Suddenly there was a hand around his throat and Qyburn's feet left the ground as Ser Gregor lifted him up one handed to his elevated own eye level.

"I should kill you for what you did," Ser Gregor growled, eyeing him as one would eye a pitiful morsel.

Qyburn squirmed for a moment in Gregor's grasp. He tried to sigh, but with the hand around his throat it had enough just trying to breath. His end was coming and there really wasn't anything he could do to stop it. Not now, not against the Mountain That Rides.

"All the things you did to me...maybe I should return the favor?" Ser Gregor menaced, a crazed look in his eyes.

Qyburn couldn't answer, breathing was starting to become an issue and there were spots appearing in front of his eyes. He could hear Gregor growling like an animal in anger.

Suddenly the pressure around his throat released, he fell roughly and painfully to the ground below. He sputtered and coughed as he tried to catch his breath. Slowly, painfully his breathing returned to normal and he looked up at Ser Gregor.

Gregor seemed to be trying to control his violent tendencies. He glared down at where Qyburn was lying at his feet.

"You did so many things to me," Ser Gregor began slowly, "There was so much pain...I didn't know that such pain was possible!" there was some respect coloring Ser Gregor's tone now, it disappeared as he continued, "the fucking dornishman poisoned me," he spat angrily, "But you managed to save me when that fucking toad Pycelle failed."

Qyburn watched Gregor as he ranted, unsure of what exactly was happening, pain and death were what he had expected when Gregor found him. Ser Gregor seemed uncharacteristically verbose now with this rant.

"...but it was so quiet. It had never been so quiet. So peaceful," Ser Gregor admitted in a much surprised tone, loosing the growl and anger of his previous tone and words, "None of the Maesters could do that. They all promised and lied! And I was so powerful! So strong!" Gregor raised up his arms and clenched his hands as if crushing...something, with them.

Skulls, most probably, a part of Qyburn's mind morbidly.

Ser Gregor paused and "Can you give that strength again? But this time I will be my own master! I will control my own actions!" he glared down at Qyburn, with almost an earnest expression on his face, "Can you do that? Can you make that happen?"

Qyburn looked up at Ser Gregor in surprise. Rarely had anything so stunned him. He realised quickly enough the unexpected lifeline that was dangling in front of him. He brushed himself off and quickly rose to his feet as he smoothed out his disarrayed robes.

Perhaps, it's not my day to die today...

"It's...possible...but I will needs some things...expensive things," Qyburn began slyly.

"You'll get them," growled back Ser Gregor. He cracked his knuckles noisily and smiled widely, "You'll get everything you need."

Qyburn nodded as he looked the crazed animal that was the Mountain That Rides unflinching in the eye, "Yes...I believe I can do what you ask..."

Notes:

he he, Qyburn and the Mountain :D Also, Tyrion's fate will be coming soon enough ;p As always don't forget to review! :D