11 The Harrenhal Disaster (4)

He tore his eyes away from the Crannogman, his head roaring in pain.

He stayed there, clutching his head fiercely with his right hand with his eyes clenched in pain, for a few seconds until Lord Sunderland tapped him on the shoulder.

"Magnar?" The sistermen asked. The high lord of Skagos let go of his head and opened his eyes.

"Sorry, migraine." Said Cregan.

Sunderland starred at the Skagosi for a a few seconds before shrugging, wiping his jerkin free of crumbs.

The Skagosi worriedly tapped his fingers of the table, starring into space. There was an inescapable sense of dread in the room, but it seemed only he noticed it. Music began to play again, this time from the professional bards rather then the crown prince. Some ditty that Cregan didn't know. Kingshouse never got much in the way of music, maybe the odd bladder pipe or drum, but mealtimes were a solemn dark affair in the halls of Skagos. The Skagosi didn't like to eat in light, saving the fire for important occasions or harvest feasts. In winter the torches and lights in the halls and Caverns of Kingshouse would be put out and the Skagosi would eat in complete darkness, so as not to see what they were eating. People would immediately leave the table when they were done eating, cleaning their own bowels unless they were of high birth.

The Stanes often ate outside, only eating inside Driftwood hall during the absolute dark of winter, huddled around fires eating their fish. The Crowls were similar to the Magnar's in this manner, but they also included a strange ritual of drinking salt water to cleanse the pallet after finishing. Something rather stupid, but there was plenty of freshwater on Skagos during winter.

Cregan stood up as the table was lifted away by some Whent servants, gingerly stepping back towards the walls of the Great hall. Servants were acting lightning fast, sweeping away the reeds and food on the ground.

"Great. Dancing." Said Cregan under his breath. He grabbed a jug of wine from a passing servant and took a deep swig from the jug, red droplets falling from his lips as he drank and drank. When the jug emptied Cregan removed it from his lips and wiped them clean of the wine.

The Skagosi burped and returned the jug to a passing servant.

"More wine?" Asked Sunderland with a wry smile, shaking a wineskin he had inside his cloak.

"Go on then." Cregan smiled, moving to stand next to the sistermen. The two men took quick swigs from the wineskin as the dancing are was set up, the song changed from what was essentially medieval elevator music to the bear and the maiden fair.

"Say... You're like half wildling right?" Asked Sunderland after a few swigs.

The Skagosi lord laughed, the question sounding so innocently offensive.

"Close enough." Cregan admitted with a smile.

"You know any mountain clansmen?" Asked Sunderland.

"Yeah, all of us wildlings meet up once a year, talk about the weather and our stock portfolios." Cregan sarcastically replied.

"What?" Asked Sundeland.

Cregan bit out a pained laugh for a second.

"No, I've never met a mountain clansmen. I'd never been away from Skagos till about a month ago." Cregan replied honestly.

"Oh." Sunderland replied simply. He took another swig of wine. Cregan reached to grab the wineskin out of his hand, but Sunderland took another gulp.

"I've never met one either. I here they are raiding again, but I don't know... I don't really see other lords that often." Sunderland explained.

"Know that feeling." Said Cregan, as he finally managed to rip the quickly emptying wineskin from Sunderland's hands and took a swig. Or at least attempted to, as only a few drops fell from the lip. The Skaogsi sighed.

"Kind of bullshit isn't it?" Asked Sunderland.

"Hmm?" Asked Cregan, placing the empty wineskin on the table behind him and leaning back on it, placing both of his hands behind him.

"Yeah. I mean... My people always get shit for being pirates. They say we purposefully wreck ships on our shores, and that we have webbed fingers." Said Triston, running a hand through his hair.

"And?" Asked Cregan bluntly.

"Well..." Sunderland seemed surprised at the question. "I mean.. I don't. And I'm not. Look, you Skagosi get called Cannibals and ship wreckers, but you're clearly all right..."

Cregan turned around, bending down slightly and whispered into Triston's ear.

"Difference is my people are cannibals. And my people do wreck ships." Said Cregan quietly, his voice low. He turned around again.

"But I will change my people, one way or another." Said Cregan resolutely. "By hook or by crook."

"Hmm?" Asked Triston.

"We must... No, you know what? I've said this speech enough times." Said Cregan with a smile as he leant back on the table, it tipping forward slightly as he did so.

"Don't the sisters have the second most amount of ships in the Vale?" Asked Cregan.

Triston stood straight up for a second, a brief gleam of pride in his eyes.

"After Gulltown, we do indeed rule the seas around the vale." Said Triston. "Those damned proud houses forget that whoever rules the seas can rule the land."

Cregan smiled viciously for a brief second, but steeled himself quickly.

"Let's say that there was a house in the north that wanted to rule a sea yet to be conquered." Said Cregan, his voice light and lilting, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "Let's say that that house might be extremely grateful for... Say, skilled shipbuilders, or decent trade deals. Maybe that house has tonnes of forests."

"Indeed?" Asked Sunderland.

"Let's say... That this house has a young daughter of there's. A lass with no small amount of good looks, currently third in line. I hear that you have only sons so far?" Asked Cregan.

"Indeed?" Asked Sunderland. "Three young'uns at the moment. Oldest is about nine."

"How convenient. This house's sister is nine years old." Said Cregan with a smile.

"That is convenient. After all, it is rare that Sistermen get marriage proposals from other houses." Said Triston, stroking his non-existent beard.

"And this house needs to get marriages outside it's lands. The family tree is turning into a ladder worryingly quickly." Said Cregan.

"So, we might... Theoretically of course." Triston quickly said.

"Of course." Said Cregan with a smile.

"We might receive an alliance with a house building a navy. A northern house regrettably, but a house none the less. Strong first men blood, and perhaps a few unicorns?" Asked Triston.

Cregan laughed.

"A herd of Unicorns. Hardy beasts that can climb mountains. You'd find no finer mount." Cregan added.

"Excellent. And the dowry?" Asked Triston, a greedy thin smile playing on his lips.

Cregan sighed briefly, though his eyes revealed the mirth behind the groan.

"12 unicorns, all broken. 1 tonne of Douglas fir trees shipped to the Sisters. A military alliance in case of any military actions taken by the sisters that don't require me to go against my liege or their orders. 6 pounds of fine meteoric iron." Cregan rattled off the top of his head, all appearance of drunkenness gone from his voice.

Triston actually had the gall to lick his lips.

"And in return?" Asked Triston.

"Some of the finest Sistermen shipbuilder to teach my people. A Military alliance in case of any actions taken by Skagos etc. Cheaper fares and tariffs for Skagosi captains docking at the sisters. Three ships?" Cregan phrased the reply like a question, but something about his eyes and stance made it seem more like an order to Triston.

Triston Suderland smiled.

"I do have one request." Asked Triston.

"Request away." Cregan motioned with his hands.

"I want to go on this trip to Ibben." Said Triston.

"Really?" asked Cregan bluntly. "I don't." He said jokingly.

"I've done deals with the whalers in the past. I know a little about them. And unlike most of the lords in the Vale I can actually captain a ship. And swim." Triston smiled, but his disdain was clear.

"One of the better applications I must admit." Said Cregan. "But your heir is young, do you have someone you can trust to rule the Sisters while you are gone?"

"I'll sort that out young lord." Said Triston.

The Skagosi smiled and held out his hand. Triston took it into his own and with that the alliance was sealed.

"Great." Said Cregan, patting Triston heavily on the back. "We should probably work out the details when we aren't slightly tipsy."

Triston glanced to the now empty wineskin and mumbled "Slightly tipsy?"

"But for now..." said Cregan, sighing as he spoke and looked around the dance floor.

"Of course. Our new melee." Said Triston with a resolute expression on his face.

"Good luck out there." said Cregan, slapping Triston on the back.

_____________________________________________

Cregan bowed to his dancing partner, lady Bethany Blackwood, an older women and sister to Tytos Blackwood. Cregan swayed slightly after he moved back, having drank the equivalent of two bottle of wine.

"May I have this dance?" Asked a familiar voice. The Skagosi turned to see Lyanna Stark standing before him, looking proud and ready to go into battle.

"Of course." Said Cregan with a nod of his head, grabbing the Stark's hands and beginning to twirl around the hall.

They stayed in a quiet dance for almost a minute, the low tones of 'The king took off his shoe' playing over the noise of the hall.

"I thought you said you could not dance?" asked Lyanna quietly, her eyebrow risen as Cregan lead them across the dance floor.

"You told me yourself, I'll dance when you do." Cregan whispered.

The two continued to twirl around the hall. Neither were spectacular dancers, but they weren't the worst on the floor. That honour fell to Roger Staunton and Jeyne Roxton, he was clubfooted, she... was enthusiastic. Cregan spied a man wearing the rings of Roxton with his heads in his hands as he watched his sister's dance.

Cregan spied a glance towards Eddard, who was talking to Howland Reed.

"How are your brothers?" Asked Cregan lightly.

"Fine. Brandon's off... over there." Lyanna nodded towards someone else on the dance floor. Cregan turned to look at what she was gesturing to.

Brandon Stark was standing over and dancing with a lithe dark haired woman that he couldn't quite make out. But given her purple dress he could make a decent guess.

"A Yronwood man accused her of leading him on. Brandon stepped up to defend her and the man stepped down." Said Lyanna.

Ashara turned to Stark.

"Ashara Dayne?" Cregan asked. Lyanna nodded.

"How did you know her?" Asked Lyanna. The Skagosi couldn't detect any accusation in her voice.

"Sunderland noticed her. I doubt a Sistermen has a chance with her in all honesty." Said Cregan jokingly.

Lyanna smiled awkwardly. Sistermen and the Starks had a nasty history with each other. The fact that they could control entry to the premier port in the north was a worry. Skagos didn't have to worry about that, at best the Wildlings in Hardhome were the only ones who could blockade Skagos, maybe the Bravosii if they sailed that far north.

"Thinking politics?" Asked Lyanna with a smile. Cregan laughed.

"Know me too well, sorry." Said Cregan, holding Lyanna closer as they continued to dance. Cregan spotted the long silver hair of the prince.

"Rhaegar did well in the jousts today." Said Cregan probingly.

"Sure." Said Lyanna simply.

His eyebrow raised. Lyanna didn't care about Rhaegar?

"How's your unicorn going?" Asked Cregan inquisitively.

"She's a fine creature, but it's made me a little shaky using other horses. I'm getting far too used to " Lyanna said with a wry smile. "Tried to ride a mare earlier and it was weird it not trying to resist my every command."

"Skagosi Unicorns only break fully when they are dying." Said Cregan with a smile. "Till then they fight you with every breath."

The two of them continued to dance for a bit. The high lord of Skagos steeled himself for what he needed to ask next.

"Lyanna... About Howland..." Said Cregan.

"What about him?" Asked Lyanna.

"You aren't going to... do anything stupid tomorrow are you?" Asked Cregan. "For justice or vengeance?"

Lyanna looked like she had been struck for a second, but soon calmed herself and smile softly.

"What are you accusing me of Magnar?" She asked sweetly, but there was steel under her tone.

"Lyanna, I'm going to be blunt. Do not joust in the tourney tomorrow. Please." Said Cregan, his grey eyes boring into her steel ones.

"I am not yours to command Magnar, remember your place." Said Lyanna. Cregan felt a blood vessel pulse on his forehead.

I'm trying to fucking save your life!

"Lyanna!" Cregan whispered angrily at the Stark girl. "I'm telling you. If you joust in the tourney tomorrow it will destroy the realm."

"How on earth do you know!?" She whispered angrily in return.

From the dusty mesa, her looming shadow grows. In the branches, of the poison creosote. She twines her spines up slowly, towards the boiling sun. And when I touched her skin...

"Lyanna..." Cregan began. What could he say? That part of him came from a place that knew her fate? That he had dreamed it? He had drowned and seen hell?

"Benjen let it slip."Cregan lied eventually, annoyed with himself. She'd easily spot the lie and work out the falsehood.

"Shut up Magnar." Said Lyanna.

"Lyanna..." Said Cregan. As he spoke the song ended and Lyanna made to leave his grasp. Cregan let go easily.

Lyanna bowed quickly and left him. Cregan swore to himself, making his way to the sidelines. He grabbed a goblet of wine from a table and drank it in one swig.

His vision darkened for a second before Cregan squeezed his eyes closed and opening again.

Shakingly placing the goblet back onto the table, the high lord of Skagos ran a hand down his face.

____________________________________________________

Varymyr Stane watched his high lord drunkenly walk off into the night air, and sighed.

"He can't be allowed to rule us." Said Theon angrily.

"Stop this Theon. He has all the cards." Said Varymyr bluntly.

"You know that can change. We just need your grandfather to see that the Magnar is a lost cause, and that we shouldn't prostate ourselves before the damned Mainlanders." Said Theon.

"Yeah, because Skagosi revolts have worked so well in the past." Said Varymyr as he rolled his eyes, then took a swig from his wineskin.

"Arthor Magnar was a great man. His blood runs through my veins." Said Theon. "You know that Rodrik Magnar was weak. I bet Cregan isn't really his son."

"That's one of my family your talking about." Growled Varymyr. Cregan's mother Val was Varymyr's aunt, and he didn't appreciate the insinuation.

"Sorry. But it's true. The two of them were married for years and they only had children about a decade into the marriage. Rather weird." Said Theon.

"You sound like a fucking southerner. Cregan is a Magnar. End of." Said Varymyr. "The Magnar's ruled as the kings of Skagos in the old days, now they are our lord. What difference does it make."

"Why should we submit to the Starks like a moletown whore?" Asked Theon. "Cregan will probably marry a gods damn mainlander."

"I'll probably marry a mainlander Theon. Aren't we all cousins or nephews of each other?" Asked Varymyr. "The Wildlings steal wives outside of their tribe for a reason."

Varymyr thought of the infamous King of Skagos Sygerrik Magnar IV, who had been the result of his grandfather marrying a Driftwood and his father marrying a Crowl. Born misshapen with an extra hand on his left wrist, with milk white eyes and sharp teeth. It was even said he had a unicorn horn and spoke only the tongue of the old ones. Dumb, deaf and weak it was no surprised that after his father died he was drowned by his cousin three days into his rule.

"We ain't kin." Said Theon darkly.

"Depends on how you look at it." Said Varymyr with a shrug.

"Look... Don't pretend like you aren't the least bit worried. Our 'glorious leader' will be gone from Skagos after the tourney, and he has put a damn woman in charge of the isle whilst he is away." Theon explained. "Do you think she can lead Skagos?"

Varymyr sighed. He hated to admit it, but Theon had a point. She had never received any training to rule, She and Cregan were born too close to each other for her to ever seriously be considered the heir to Kingshouse. Her matrilineal marriage to a spare Goodbrook had been insurance, and the Magnars had paid quite a dowry for that. Jorramun was a babe of not even one, and he was the heir to Skagos. It was insane. He didn't even have Cregan's blood in him.

"What I think doesn't matter. For good or ill Lord Magnar has ensured that the Starks will help him keep hold of Skagos. If your insanity goes ahead they'd just send in an army and burn the isle again." Said Varymyr.

"Cregan's relationship with the Starks is frail. There are means to sever it." Theon glanced at the Stark daughter, a dark flame in his eyes.

"Don't even think about it. They know Lord Magnar isn't stupid enough to try it." Said Varymyr.

"Fine. You won't help me. But if Cregan dies on his fools errand?" Asked Theon. Varymyr seriously glanced to a door as Lord Magnar returned to the hall, doing up his belt. His snowbear cloak was draped over his right shoulder, and his short hair was a mess, one the High lord attempted to fix by running his hand through it.

"If Lord Magnar dies... Then I will ensure that young Jorramun has a proper regent." Varymyr would not commit to anymore. He wasn't even the lord of Driftwood hall yet.

"All I can ask for." Said Theon, though his tone made it very fucking apparent it wasn't.

"I will hear no more of this Crowl. Planning treason in the halls of Harren has never gone well." Said Varymyr. He felt it in his bones, how the walls black with dragonfire were cursed. He felt a thousand souls starring at him, watching his every move.

_____________________________________________________________

"You look well." Brandon said with a smile, looking at the young lord Magnar.

"With all due deference, fuck off." Cregan said sullenly, his head gripped by his left hand as he slowly ate porridge.

They were sat in one of the larger tents along with those few northern lords that were awake, breaking their fast.

"That's no way to talk to your lord." Brandon faux admonished. He changed his tone to an inquisitive one. "Had a lot to drink last night?"

"Don't overly remember. I think I made some marriage pact with the Sistermen." Said Cregan.

"Didn't know you were dornish." Said Brandon.

"Hah hah hah." Said Cregan, obviously not finding the joke amusing. "For my sister."

"Right. You usually do politics whilst drunk?" Asked Brandon. Cregan actually seriously considered the question.

"Fifty fifty." He replied after a few seconds, returning to picking but not eating his breakfast. "After that it's mostly a blur. I woke up alone in my tent, so nothing too bad happened I guess."

"You might want to cut back on the drinking a little." Brandon said, genuine concern in his voice.

"I'm Northern. Worse, I'm Skagosi. It's part of the lifestyle." Cregan groaned into his porridge, his head dropping very close to the bowel before he slowly brought it back up.

"How was your night?" Asked Cregan after a few seconds of closed eyes and slow breathing.

Brandon smiled wolfishly.

"Not bad." Said Brandon with a shrug.

"Gonna elaborate?" Asked Cregan, his right eyebrow raised.

"Not especially." Brandon replied with a smile and a shrug.

"Whatever." Said Cregan. He glanced towards Eddard Stark, who was talking animatedly with Rodrik Cassel.

And he realised who was missing, as his breath got caught in his throat.

"Where's Benjen and Lyanna?" Asked Cregan, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

"Them? No idea, they slept in Ned's tent. Woke up earlier then him." Said Brandon with a shrug.

Cregan wouldn't hold back any longer.

"Brandon, we have to find them right now." Said Cregan.

"What?" Asked the Stark heir.

"They... One of them plans to joust in the tourney and defend Howland Reed's honour." said Cregan, his voice strained. He hissed as he clutched his head tighter, but he kept talking.

"Brandon, they can't joust. Their too young. They might get hurt." Said Cregan.

"Look, Cregan. I doubt they are that stupid. Lyanna's a woman, she can't..." Said Brandon.

"She can and she will." Said Cregan. "She's going to joust as the knight of the laughing tree, and she's going to try and unhorse the knights the three squires that beat up Lord Reed squire for."

Brandon looked at Cregan as if he had gone insane.

"How do you know this?" He asked. He tried to sound humorous, but Cregan's genuine fear was unnerving the heir to the North.

"I overheard Benjen and Lyanna last night." Cregan lied. "Look, we have to find them and put a stop to this."

"Are you absolutely sure..."

Cregan slammed his bowel of porridge as he stood out of his seat. "Yes. We have to find them now."

Brandon slowly nodded, standing up to follow Cregan. Throwing on a cloak, Cregan rushed out of the the tent, pushing the flap open and rushing into the cool morning air.

"Any idea where to start?" Asked Cregan.

"Not a clue. You?" Asked Brandon. He shook his head.

"Somewhere they can grab some armour and a horse. Can't be Lyanna's unicorn..." Said Cregan.

"All right. There's a tent where we store some arms and armour. We can ask the quartermaster if Lyanna or Benjen talked to him." Said Brandon.

"Lead the way." Said Cregan, motioning with his hands. The two of them began to run off towards the castle itself, running and jumping over guidelines and swerving and weaving around people. Cregan's head screamed and he was being watched by everyone they passed, but he and Brandon Stark sped on.

Cregan tripped momentarily over Lord Buckler. He crawled through the dirt and slowly stood up as Brandon rushed ahead.

_____________________________

"No luck." Said Brandon. The two of them were leaning against one of the stone walls inside Harrenhal.

"The stable master, the quartermaster.... They must've worked quickly and early." Said Cregan as he wiped his forehead free of sweat.

"The jousts are about to begin, we are out of time." said Brandon.

"Are you jousting today?" Asked Cregan. Brandon shook his head. "We should wait by the one of the entrances to the field. If we spot a mystery knight with that painted weirwood shield that the quartermaster mentioned was missing we can grab them and stop them from jousting."

"Good idea." Said Brandon. The two of them caught their breath for a moment.

"Let's go." Said Brandon, briefly patting his longsword around his waist. Cregan felt for his own only to realise in his haste he had left it in his tent this morning. Probably just as well, bringing a weapon would've been frowned upon. Brandon was the son of a Warden, Cregan was a nobody.

The tow of them made their way to the tourney field and stands in one of the larger courtyards of Harrenhal.

They were almost stopped by a crossbow wielding guard wearing a tabard emblazoned with the nine bats of house Whent. But Brandon simply raised an eyebrow and another Crossbow wielding guard ordered him to let them pass. The walked into some tents, filled with men getting their squires to strap them into their armour. The two of them looked around, hoping that the knight of the laughing tree might have been stupid get ready in this tent. No such luck.

A bead of sweat dropped from Cregan's forehead.

"We wait then." Said Brandon. As the minutes turned to hours knight after knight came and went from the tent, from Florents to Estermont to Stokeworth to Darry to Hunter. But no mystery knight.

Brandon and Cregan took to leaning against the palisades just outside the tent, able to watch the jousts right from the field. They saw lance and shield clash again and again. Men cheered, won, lost and even got pretty badly injured, but still no mystery knight.

"Maybe they aren't stupid and didn't go ahead with the plan." Said Brandon, about thirty minutes after the jousts had finished the break for lunch.

A knight wearing a tabard proudly displaying a pitchfork came past the two of them. And on the opposite side of the tourney arena came his competitor.

The knight wore mismatched armour of various sizes. One shoulder plate was larger than the other, one gauntlet was enamelled green whilst the other was plain steel. And the knight's shield bore a weirwood tree with a laughing face.

"Fuck!" Brandon and Cregan shouted simultaneously.

Cregan made his way to march towards the mystery knight but Brandon held him back.

"It's too late now. We missed our chance." Said Brandon. "It's in the old gods hands now."

Cregan growled and tried to search the crowds for Howland Reed, but couldn't see him. There had to be some way to stop this.

"Brandon, it could be Lyanna in there. We have to..." Cregan began.

"At least Lyanna is a great rider. I'm more worried if it's Benjen." Said Brandon, still holding Cregan back.

Cregan finally relaxed.

"Fine." He said, lightly shrugging off Brandon's hold. But fear was still running through his veins. A looming shadow covered the tourney field, even in broad daylight.

The tilt began, the mystery knight charging forth, only hesitating for a second. The knight held the lance low, and as the two mounted warriors got close to each other the Mystery knight's lance rose up, catching the Pitchfork knight in his right breast, unable to bring his shield up fast enough to block it. The lance didn't look like it had much force behind it, but the the horse was well ridden, and essentially steered the pitchfork knight to fall off, dragging him out of his saddle and to the ground.

The Mystery knight dropped their lance, and a hooded squire ran forth carrying another.

"They're working together it seems." Said Brandon, his fists clenching. "They are both going to get a fucking talking to after this."

Cregan rubbed the back of his head as he looked up. The moon was missing, the tourney beyond it's sight. The weirwoods couldn't see here, and there were no fires lit. Only dark stars remained, hidden from sight.

As the mystery knight returned to the other end of the jousting field they spoke in a booming echoing voice.

"Ser Boros Blount!" The mystery knight shouted. "Come forth and answer for your Squire's crimes you craven!"

Cregan and Brandon turned around to see a portly man in his thirties angrily place his helmet over his head and march out of the tent, climbing atop a horse wearing a cloth displaying two black hedgehogs.

His Squire handed him his lance and walked forth with the horse, following the large knight.

A horn blew three times, and Boros kicked his feet, his steed charging forth. The mystery knight glanced down briefly but their gaze turned back to their competitor, and they kicked off, the ground shaking with every hoof beat. They got closer and closer to each other, the knight of the laughing tree lowering their lance, aiming squarely at Boros Blount's chest, who held his wooden shield square in front.

The two got close. Whilst the knight of the laughing tree lurched Cregan heard a terrible scream. Boros had lifted his lance, and a strange lurch or stumbled had meant that the lance had caught the mystery knight right in a gap in their mismatched armour, just below their left shoulder, above the heart. As the knight of the laughing Tree fell to the ground, three men ran towards them. As Benjen ran the hood of his cloak fell off.

Cregan was the last to arrive as Brandon removed the knights helmet, and long brown hair fell as he lifted the helm. There, lying in the dirt in a rapidly collecting pool of blood was Lyanna Stark. Boros Blount was still celebrating, unaware of the three Stark children.

Lyanna's eyes filled with tears as she gripped Brandon's hand. The wound on her throat was large, but for now she was still clinging to life. Cregan tried to remove the armour, but as he touched her skin, his fingers ran with blood. He called out for a maester, and finally the crowd noticed them, and noticed the long red/brown hair. Noticed the heir to the North cry silent tears as his sister whispered something to him.

Cregan was too busy trying to get the armour off and stem the river of blood flowing out of the girl, too busy crying out for a maester that he could not hear her words. He only caught the end.

"Promise me Brandon." Lyanna said, her voice weak and tired. As a man in dull drab clothing walked towards them as fast as he could Cregan felt her body get colder and colder. The breast plate finally off her, Cregan could see the full extent of the damage. A great hole straight through her body.

Lyanna turned briefly to him, and briefly placed a bloody hand on his chin, before repeating the action with Benjen. Two more people joined them around Lyanna. The Maester and a terrified and horrified Eddard.

The Maester simply stepped away from Lyanna. Knowing what that likely meant, Cregan stepped away, letting the siblings have one last moment with each other.

Cregan looked away, tears filling his eyes, looking at the dirt.

A terrible laugh cried out and Cregan looked towards the sound, to see a madly cackling man wearing a crown. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the heir to Winterfell grow furious, and place his hand on his sword.

__________________