#mine: brandon & rowan.

[arch-ellieswilliam]

pairs of siblings in santa guadalupe —

ANA JÚLIA & GUILHERME, shamans of humanity and funerals BRANDON & ROWAN, andromeda’s legacy MARGOT & ELI, the rogue ripleys TIBÉRIO & CÁSSIA, blessed by the sun

[xmymelosmile]

PLS POST, HERE R MINE :D ( and few from Cody and I think another person but idk them @inkoo000 ( I can't remember, Cody u only know )

Edward= Elizabeth ( Ellie )

Barry= Berry ( or Beth )

Isaac- Isabel ( Izzy )

Drew- Andrea ( Drea )

Nevin- Neveah ( Nev ) i think that was it, cody help

Stacy- Simon

Niki- Nikolas

Dez- Dean

Brinley- Brandon

Rachel- Ryan

Louis- Louise

Cody- Cindy

Justin- Jess

Evil Justin- Evil Jess ( lmao )

Felix- Frankie

James- Jasmine

Ethan- Ellie

edit: I forgot few

Charlie= Cassie

Chris- Christina ( Chris )

Freddie- Faith

Britney- Bryce

Xavier- Xanthie

Rose- Rowan

THERE R ALOT MORE BUT IDK

my silly ass resisting the urge to post my ibvs genderbend names headcanons

[browanedit]

‘you are in love with her.’ | browan in season 3 of ‘t@gged’

[cherieknots]

I don’t need you to defend me. I know.

[brookestilinskis]

[trashy-greyjoy]

t@gged // rowan fricks x brandon darrow

you say you’re a bad guy, but i don’t think you’re a bad guy i just think you kinda act like an asshole.

[goldscoyne]

#i love endgame

[chenslucy]

they will find their way back to each other cc 2words12letters

[turnaboutwriter]

If you're still writing minifics, would you consider an ikarishipping one? Love your Safe Travels and Bluebells fics and hope you update soon!!

Thank you! Anyway, this one needs a little context before I can dive right in — this summer in the ikarishipping discord, we were talking about an AU where where Brock is not the part of the traveling trio in the DP Series, but Paul is. So here are some brief glimpses (yeah, there’s more than one minific here; really it’s a collection) into that scenario, because I don’t have enough ideas to craft a full story. If you’re interested, I’ll be posting this on AO3 and (maybe) FFN and an appendix with little tidbits about the AU that couldn’t make it into the minifics at the end!

READ W/ APPENDIX: AO3

U-Turn - After making its attack, the user rushes back to switch places with a party Pokémon in waiting.

“Tch. Fine. Have it your way,” Paul grumbles to his Murkrow, whose beak is turned away defiantly from the poffin in his hand.

A sweet giggle comes from beside him. “Hey! Come on, guys, one at a time!” Hmph. Dawn’s Pokémon — and his and Ash’s, for that matter — are all over her poffins.

“Aww, c’mon, buddy! Mine can’t be as bad as Paul’s!”

“Pika … ” Pikachu looks apologetic as he makes a face at the taste of the burnt poffin in his mouth, before scampering to Dawn.

Murkrow, too, looks intrigued by the crowd forming around Dawn. “Krow!” he declares, before flying to her side like the rest of Paul and Ash’s Pokémon have.

“Aww, man … “ Ash bows down in defeat, before he looks back up, determined to prove his Pokémon wrong by trying one for himself. But as his Pokémon have indicated, he finds the taste to be awful, making a gagging sound and spitting it out into the nearest trash can.

Paul grimaces at the scene, but then turns back to his starter Pokémon, the only one who hasn’t flocked to Dawn’s poffins, and holds a poffin out to him. But Torterra, too, simply shakes his head, before moving to Dawn.

He lets out a sigh. He knew this was a bad idea — he told Dawn that making poffins was not something in his range — and questions why he listened to her pathetic idea in the first place.

.

He hates it every time she wears that stupid, short, and very pink outfit for his and Ash’s gym battles. He doesn’t need a cheerleader, and he especially doesn’t need her carrying pompoms.

.

Paul catches her curled up and crying to herself the night she loses the Solaceon Contest.

Dawn lifts her head up as he approaches her, sensing his presence.

Without looking at him, she whispers, “I’ve lost in only the appeals round two contests in a row.” From the soft glow of the bonfire starting to burn out, he sees tears rolling down her cheeks. She sniffles, but makes no move to wipe away the tears.

Paul stares at her wordlessly.

She whips her head up to him. “Why are you quiet?!” she cries. “Aren’t you going to say something? Tell me how pathetic I am like you normally do!” When he offers no response again, she lowers her head. “Forget it,” she mumbles, her eyes averting his. “It’s not your business to deal with, anyway.”

“ … You’re trying too hard to make your Pokémon look good.”

Surprised, Dawn looks up at him through her tears, with furrowed eyebrows. “Huh?”

“Isn’t a coordinator supposed to help enhance how good a Pokémon already looks?” he continues. There is no stern expression on his face like she expected, but, instead, a blank face. “You don’t appear to be very confident in how good they look. That’s not fair to them.”

It takes her a moment to process his words — she’s still in shock that he’s speaking her her. With a start, she she realizes that he’s right. Her mind begins to run through her mistakes during training and the past two contests, but Paul’s low murmur breaks her out of her thoughts.

“You need to have more confidence in your Pokémon … and in yourself.” He holds out a hand to her.

Dawn’s not a bad coordinator — in fact, Paul has learned many techniques through watching her contest battles — but, even to him, it is clear that she still has a lot to learn.

She quickly brushes away her tears with a hand before nodding.  With a newfound confidence, she takes his hand and allows him to help her up.

Since that day, he has pushed her to do better, in his own silent but supportive way.

—

A few days later, when she battles Maylene, the gym leader he deemed pathetic after crushing her in battle, Paul intently watches them display their strength on the sidelines with Reggie and Ash.

He gains a newfound respect for both Maylene and Dawn after that.

.

The corners of his lips twitch, threatening to turn upward.

He used to be completely uninterested by contests, and in fact, refused to come and see Ash and Dawn in the Jubilife City contest, until Dawn forced him to watch her participate in the Floaroma Contest. Impressed by how she handled her Pachirisu’s stage fright, he decided to continue attending her contests with Ash. Since then, he has learned many techniques from her — including counter-shield and evasion.

Next to him, Zoey — Dawn’s rival and friend, one he finds to be a nosy pest — and Ash cheer.

She did it. She won the Wallace Cup.

An unfamiliar feeling of pride bubbles up in his chest, and now he’s actually giving off a small smile, unable to suppress it any longer.

.

Paul holds some disdain for Ash and his training techniques, but has learned to tolerate him. Sure, they have their disagreements, but Dawn (who Paul gets along with the most), manages to mediate and helps them to understand that they are two different persons … not to mention that they happen to battle it out a lot as a way to see who is the stronger trainer. It is obvious to anyone that sees them fight on the battlefield that Ash and Paul clash in an equal battle of strength and power, each with their own radically different ideals.

Surprisingly though, it is with Dawn who Paul fights the most.

Whereas he mostly fights with Ash over major things that differentiate them as trainers, he and Dawn usually fight over little things when they travel — she’s loud and troublesome with no sense of direction (and a Togekiss who has his Honchkrow smitten), and he’s a grouch who is always in a rush to get to where he needs to be (and hates it when she spoils his Pokémon with her poffins).

There are times, though, where they have more serious fights, where Dawn will yell and maybe cry as well, and Paul will disappear for the remainder of the day (though he tends to do that when he gets into a more serious disagreement with Ash, too).

During the times he wanders off on his own, Paul wonders why he listened to Reggie and Professor Rowan’s idea in the first place and decided to travel with Ash and Dawn, but the thought of separating from them — and to his surprise, especially Dawn — unsettles him.

In the beginning, he clearly remembers trying to keep to his own, promising himself that after the first gym, he would part ways with them. Dawn and Ash were too rambunctious and distracting to travel with, anyway. There were always needless stops along the way and irritations like Team Rocket popping up were all a waste of Paul’s time.

And he nearly did leave after beating the Oreburgh Gym, but curiosity killed the Delcatty, since he decided to watch Ash’s first and second matches against Roark — though the second time was to examine the strength of Roark’s newly-evolved Rampardos. He planned to depart the day after Ash’s victory, but Dawn struggled to catch a Pachirisu, and then, that hunter, J, swiped his Elekid and Ash’s Pikachu, and then, they ran into a Coordinator with a very powerful Magikarp that all three of them were unable to defeat in battle …

Somewhere in between all of the events that grounded him to the group and made him stay, the lines he had so carefully drawn blurred, and he got used to having them by his side.

And that’s what brings him back to Ash and Dawn at the end of the day, and quietly resolve his disagreements with them.

.

The opened refrigerator greets her with a burst of cool air. Ignoring the shiver that runs down her arms, she immediately reaches for the orange juice.

“Huh? Orange juice? Who drinks that?”

With her hands on her hips, Dawn rolls her eyes at Ash. “Paul, of course!” she immediately answers. And then, her cheeks flame, realizing how attentive she has become to Paul’s likes and dislikes.

Isn’t that normal, though? she questions internally, seeing her reddened cheeks in the reflection of the refrigerator door. She’s been traveling with Paul and Ash for quite a few months now. Surely, it’s normal to know their favorite juice by now. But when she tries to think of what Ash’s favorite juice is, her mind draws a blank.

Why is it that she has subconsciously been focused on Paul more than Ash?

Averting her eyes from her reflection, she makes a mental note to learn what Ash’s favorite juice is.

.

“You battled well, Paul,” she says softly to Paul. She’s never seen such burning passion in his eyes before, and, frankly, it unsettles her a bit.

He jolts, turning away from his intent gaze on the Battle Pyramid and scowls at her. “I don’t need your pity. I lost today, but I will win against him next time.”

The pain she sees clouding in his stormy grey eyes also worries her.  

(She will find out the estranged, paternal relationship Brandon has with Paul is what lies beneath that pain — but only two years later in Kanto, a few nights before Paul’s final battle against the man.)

.

“I’m going to challenge Paul to a battle now. If I manage to win…”

“Then, what?”

“Then, Dawn, I want you and I to go on a journey together.”

“Journey?” She’s thoroughly surprised at this.

“I know this is out of nowhere, but I had to tell you how I feel!”

Paul, leaning against a nearby tree, watches as Kenny runs away and Dawn calls out after him.

He’s never liked Kenny.

During Flint and Jasmine’s battle, he, Dawn, and Ash were discussing Flint’s defensive style, when Paul noticed Kenny looking over Dawn — in his eyes, Paul easily identified envy.

And then those envy-filled eyes met Paul’s.

Paul will admit it to himself that afterwards, he leaned over to engage Dawn in further conversation regarding Jasmine’s Steelix, just to spite Kenny.

With the glare Kenny shot him in that moment, Paul got the feeling that Kenny’s never liked him either.

.

“When does Buneary’s Poké Chic campaign finish?” Paul asks Dawn quietly, as they watch the ship depart the port in the sunset. They have just bid Ash farewell, as he has gone back home to Kanto.

“Huh?” She turns to look at him, confusion crossing her face. “Um, in two weeks. Why do you ask?”

“I’m going to Hoenn in a few weeks. Come with me.”

[arch-ellieswilliam]

♫ + rowan & brandon

Send me a ♫ + a character’s name and I will respond with a song that reminds me of them. Send a ♫ + a ship and I will do the same.

The Mother We Share (CHVRCHES)

In the dying light, I’m the only one here And I will cover you, until you go-o-o-oh ‘Cause if I told the truth, I would always be free And keep a prize with me, until you go-o-o-oh

Come in misery, where you can seem as old as your omens And the mother we share Will never keep your proud head from falling The way is long, but you can make it easy on me And the mother we share Will never keep our cold heart from calling

Into the night, for once, we’re the only ones left I bet you even know where we could go-o-o-oh And when it all fucks up, you put your head in my hands It’s a souvenir for when you go-o-o-oh

[scvaqes]

*. ABOUT SHIPS && VERSES.

         i've decided to make this mainly so i can find an actual grip in organizing my muses' ships and the current verses they have. 

        another sidenote i should probably include here is how critical my muses' ships are to their character development. because as much as i write for them, my muses' CONNECTIONS with yours allow them to grow even more as a person, outside the realms of whichever background they have. so for allowing your muse to be part of mine’s JOURNEY in such a significant manner, i cannot THANK YOU enough !!

        LET’S START !!! the following are the MUMU verses where some of my muses are currently a part of. please note that i'll only be mentioning ships where my muses are involved and does not limit in any way from other active ships involved in each verse.

VERSE 01 - JUNSEO X EMERY MUMU; TIMELINE 01 - hanyeol x hajoon - ingrid x brandon - jeongwook x junhee - seungho x minhee - cross x emma - franco x cassie

VERSE 02 - #SQUAD MUMU; TIMELINE 02 - hanyeol x hajoon - ingrid x aspen - jeongwook x emery

VERSE 03 - LANDLORD'S HOUSE MUMU; TIMELINE TBD - maven x mingun - jayden x aera - arizona x ji yeong - chae-young x han kyul - ingrid x daeyeon - drew x eun chan - sofie x hyun jae

        for VERSE 03, this revolves around calli’s ( @resilientlyclever ) MAIN VERSE for her muses. therefore it is upon her final discretion whether the non-conflicting ships we have in this verse will overlap with the other verses in terms of timeline.

      next !! the SHIPS. note that multi-ship muses who have MAIN ships will be identified accordingly with their main s/o emphasized. i've also set caps for the number of ships each multi-ship muse can have.

DANIELLE (4) - cain ; @thenefelibatas - charles ; @multitudinouss - tbd. - tbd.

CROSS (5) - rowan ; @glgofrps - celena ; @elitiist - emma || ( v.01 ) ; @likecottxncandy - tbd. - tbd.

TIFFANY (5 -- this will be divided between her older and younger verses) - phoenix || ( older v., highschool v. ) ; @thenefelibatas​ - tbd. - tbd. - tbd. - tbd.

JAYDEN (3) - AE RA || ( v.03 ) ; @resilientlyclever​ - sunhwa ; @intcrweaved - tbd.

MAVEN (3) - MINGUN || ( v.03, mobster v., fallen v. ) ; @resilientlyclever - daejung ; @likecottxncandy - tbd.

SEUNGHO (3) - minhee || ( v.01 ) ; @intcrweaved​ - tbd. - tbd.

LEILA (3) - tbd. - tbd. - tbd.

FRANCO (3) - cassie || ( v.01 ) ; @likecottxncandy​  - tbd. - tbd.

INGRID (3) - brandon || (v.01) ; @likecottxncandy​ - aspen || (v.02) ; @heartfeltflowers​ - daeyeon || (v.03) ; @resilientlyclever​

DREW (4) - eun chan ; @resilientlyclever​ - emi ; @likecottxncandy​ - tbd. - tbd.

FIONA (3) - nathan ; @glgofrps​ - tbd. - tbd.

JEONGWOOK (4) - jinwoo ; @scrcndipty - junhee || ( v.01 ) ; @intcrweaved​  - emery || ( v.02 ) ; @heartfeltflowers​ - daeyoung ; @manticxre​

REINA (3) - everett ; @heartfeltflowers​  - tbd. - tbd.

SOFIE (3) - hyun jae || ( v.03 ) ; @resilientlyclever​ - bowie ; @ailaixi - tbd.

AJAX (3) - tbd. - tbd. - tbd. 

MIDAS (3) - dante ; @bottledlies - tbd. - tbd.

        please note that MAIN ships will ALWAYS be applicable for a muse unless they have another ship for a plotted au/verse. HOWEVER, if the muse does not have a main ship and there are no verses specified in PARENTHESIS, it means that the ships are, currently, either in a FREEVERSE, or the muns have yet to discuss whether they are to fall on a particular verse -- main or au, mumu or not. freeverse basically means that a ship is fair-game and do not coexist with a conflicting ship (whether for my muse or yours) in their set verse unless agreed upon to during plotting.

*. SINGLESHIPS

HANYEOL PARIS - hajoon ; @heartfeltflowers

ARIZONA - ji yeong ; @resilientlyclever​

CHAE-YOUNG - han kyul ; @resilientlyclever​

        there you have it !!! if you have any COMMENTS about the ships or the verses specified here please DO NOT HESITATE to @ me in the replies below ~ and if we have any ongoing interactions which you might want me to tag officially under my muse's ship OR if we have a ship that i forgot to include in this post please FEEL FREE to @ me or IM me for those as well !!!!

[browanedit]

Browan behind the scenes of ‘t@gged’ season 2

[cherieknots]

I don’t need you to protect me. Too bad.

[trumpetnista]

CMW2/Trumpetnista: Safe (7/?)

Summary from FFN: NOW A WIP: She was Olivia Pope, not Alex Jones, not Julia Baker, and she was a mess;In this AU of 4x16, instead of Alex seducing Russell to feel alive again, Olivia decides on a better course of action, a course of action that starts with a phone call to Fitz;HEAVY SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4 WITHIN;Rated for language, imagery, and later Olitz lovemaking;4th in my 2016 SSS Project

Teaser from Chapter 7: "Look, I know that I shouldn't have broken in but I've been worried about you. You won't take my calls. You won't answer my texts and when I tried to come see you at your office, I couldn't even get past the front door before Michael..."

"His name is Marcus."

"...stopped me. What did you tell him about me? What did you say to all of them?"

"Nothing other than if you came in, I didn't want to see you."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"...you and Fitz aren't going to last forever. You never do."

"Fitz has nothing to do with this. It's about you and the fact that you're not a good influence in my life. You're dangerous. You're unstable. You're B613. You're Rowan's puppet, his loyal little lapdog that he can order around at whim. You may think that you're free now, that he's forgotten all about you and maybe he has but I haven't. I know who you really are, Jake. I've seen who you really are and you are not someone that I want around me as a friend or as a lover, anymore. Now, I've got 5 more bullets and the next one is going in your head if you don't leave."

"You would kill me right now?"

"...not that head, Jake."

Disclaimer for the full story: “Honestly, it’s not mine!”

"Fitz, what's going on? Why are you whispering?"

"I'm hiding in the Residence from Mellie. She thinks I'm still in the Oval."

"Are you seriously hiding from your wife?"

"Olivia, she is drunk off moonshine, eating fried shrimp, and she's singing showtunes...butchering showtunes and... the last time she drank like this, she actually asked me to have sex with her on the dining room table and I just... yes, I'm seriously hiding from my wife. I'm scared and hiding and I'm waiting for her to pass out."

"You poor, poor soul...should I send some earplugs? Gettysburger? An Exorcism kit?"

"...you're not funny."

"I'm funnier than you."

Fitz's laughter was warm in her ear and she sighed, walking towards her office windows. She could see the White House in the distance, brightly lit and beautiful. Fitz had once referred to it as the Crown Jewel of the American Prison System and that label had merit. Yes, the White House was beautiful. Yes, being the President of the United States was a great honor, the pinnacle of Power but it changed everything.

There was no true privacy. Everywhere a President went, there were Agents, staff, members of the Press around. There was always a bubble. A President couldn't just go grocery shopping or just go and get a new phone without a big to-do. There were always schemers around, people who would stab you in the back just to get a slightly bigger piece of the pie. Every person had to be vetted. No one, not even family could be trusted.

It was one of the most noble and truly one of the loneliest Jobs in the world.

And if it wasn't the President themselves being targeted, it was their loved ones.

Gerry Grant had been murdered by Rowan because of his connection to Fitz, his connection to her. Karen Grant had been recorded and blackmailed while under the influence, while having sex because she was the President's daughter. The conspiracy to kidnap her had been in the name of the Presidency. Andrew Nichols and Elizabeth North had wanted the Power by any means necessary. Rowan had wanted Power and revenge for a perceived unreasonable slight against him. Fitz hadn't done anything wrong. Gerry hadn't done anything wrong. Karen hadn't done anything wrong and Olivia was growing to accept that she hadn't done anything wrong, either. She hadn't been the one to murder Gerry Grant, to put the sick idea into Rowan's mind. She hadn't asked to be kidnapped. She didn't deserve to be kidnapped, despite all the things she had done.

It wasn't her fault.

It wasn't her fault.

Not every bad thing that happened was her fault.

It was not her fault and it certainly wasn't Fitz's fault, despite what she had screamed to the contrary.

To monsters like Rowan, it wasn't about people, not as more than pieces on their chess boards.

It was all about hoarding & abusing Power. It was all about creating Legacies that they could leech off of. It was all about soothing their malignant egos, regardless of who or what was destroyed...

"If it helps, she didn't really lose by a large margin. She had good numbers. She could try again in a few years, maybe even sooner. Seats open up all of the time and once you're out of Office..."

"You know she doesn't care about any of that."

"What? Facts?"

"You might be hearing from her soon, Livvie. She made it pretty clear who she blames for this."

"You, me, Cyrus, God, Satan, the weather, the Patriarchy, a random passerby who just couldn't get to the Voter's Booth and secure her rightful place in history..."

Fitz snickered and she continued unrepentantly, "She can blame me and the World all she wants. I don't care. I told her that I wasn't going to help her. I told her that my helping her would be seen as nothing more than nepotism and that she needed to wait, build up her own political capital, and come up with a more approachable image. She didn't want to. She didn't want to put the work in. She wanted to cut corners. She wanted everyone to do the heavy lifting for her and give her cue cards so she could reap the benefits, just like before. I was right to say no and she was right to lose."

"Consider it Handled."

"Exactly."

"Are you still at the office?"

"Not for much longer. I wanted to help with the paperwork. You know how it is. Get rid of one stack..."

"...and three more appear. How is Quinn working out as Second in Command?"

"It's good. It's really good, Fitz...I'm glad that she stayed. She had every right to leave."

"OPA is her home. You and your Gladiators are home for her."

Olivia nodded and sighed again, looking wistfully at 1600 Penn...

"I wish I was there with you or that you were here with me."

"You really don't want to be here right now, Liv. She's gone from showtunes to Dolly Parton. Poor Jolene..."

She laughed and replied, "That's not what I meant and you know it, Mister."

"...I know. It'll happen, Livvie. We'll make it happen."

"I hope so. Well, tomorrow night, if you're still alive, I'd love to hear from you. Just don't make 23 people have to stay, okay?"

"All right. Bye, Liv."

"...bye."

It was still a bit of a novelty to be leaving OPA at a reasonable hour. By the time she got to her apartment, it would be a little past 8PM instead of midnight or in the pre-dawn hours. She would be able to watch live TV if she wanted to. She could watch actual, non DVR'd TV shows instead of the news, infomercials, or porn. She wouldn't feel strange about cooking or ordering in at an odd hour. She would be able to go to her apartment and actually relax.

She had taken some of the weight of the world off of her shoulders. Olivia was still The Fixer, the go-to for help when it hit the fan, but it wasn't all on her. It had never been all on her but she was accepting help now, allowing herself to trust and delegate...

…but never drop her guard.

Exiting the elevator, Olivia could see that her apartment door was slightly ajar. It wasn't supposed to be ajar. She had locked it before she left and she wasn't expecting company. Huck was at his Veteran's Group therapy session with Quinn supporting him. Marcus was meeting with some representatives from Jack and Jill, trying to get their support behind adding classes to teach inner city youth about their Rights. Abby was at the White House. She had texted her earlier about Cyrus' latest antics and the ongoing battle for the Brandon Bill. She had just talked to Fitz and as much as she wished that he was inside her place right now, he wasn't. He was hiding from Mellie in what sounded to be a walk-in closet, possibly a bathroom like last time.

That didn't leave many options left for who could be inside.

The options she had to choose from were all bad.

Slowly, she set her bag down and pulled out her Colt .45, fighting through the icy fear that was creeping down her spine. Whoever was in her place had to go. Whether they would run for it or she would have to put a bullet in them before calling the police remained to be seen. She was licensed to carry and even though there were no signs of a robbery in progress, it wouldn't take much to...

Shaking her head, she made sure the gun was loaded before sliding out of her heels. If she had to run or hide, she didn't want anything slowing her down. Seeing movement, she pushed the door open and raised the gun. As soon as the person turned around, she undid the safety, the icy fear replaced with hot rage.

"Get the hell out!"

"Liv..."

"Get out of my apartment, Jake. Now."

"You won't shoot..."

A vase behind him shattered and she quickly loaded another bullet, thankful for the silencer.

"You broke in here after I told you to leave me alone. I can and will shoot you. Get out."

"I'm not the enemy here, Olivia! I brought you some dinner and..."

"I'm not hungry. Take the food and go. This is the last time I'm going to say it."

"Look, I know that I shouldn't have broken in but I've been worried about you. You won't take my calls. You won't answer my texts and when I tried to come see you at your office, I couldn't even get past the front door before Michael..."

"His name is Marcus."

"...stopped me. What did you tell him about me? What did you say to all of them?"

"Nothing other than if you came in, I didn't want to see you."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"...you and Fitz aren't going to last forever. You never do."

"Fitz has nothing to do with this. It's about you and the fact that you're not a good influence in my life. You're dangerous. You're unstable. You're B613. You're Rowan's puppet, his loyal little lapdog that he can order around at whim. You may think that you're free now, that he's forgotten all about you and maybe he has but I haven't. I know who you really are, Jake. I've seen who you really are and you are not someone that I want around me as a friend or as a lover, anymore. Now, I've got 5 more bullets and the next one is going in your head if you don't leave."

"You would kill me right now?"

"...not that head, Jake."

"Olivia..."

"Leave and if I find any cameras in here or any of my things tampered with..."

"You're paranoid. You need to get some help."

"I am getting help. You just can't benefit from it. Leave!"

Jake flinched as a pillow exploded in feathers behind him and headed for the door, deliberately leaving the food on the counter. Although he was acting like he had made her a 5 course meal, it was Gettysburger and imported beer. The Gettysburger she didn't really mind but she hated beer. He knew that! He also knew that breaking in would make her uncomfortable, possibly trigger a full on panic attack but he didn't care. He was feeling scorned, feeling childish so he had pushed as many buttons as he could to get her attention.

He had gotten her attention but Olivia was certain that Jake had imagined a far different outcome.

He only cared about her when she was saving his fat from the fire or fucking him to forget.

Unless she was doing that, she was nothing to him, regardless of what he said.

His actions were his Truth.

Had he always been this immature?

As soon as he was in the vestibule, she slammed the door in his face and listened closely. He could decide to wait her out. He could decide to come back later, while she was sleeping and...

"Damn it!"

From the sound of it, Jake had punched the doors of the elevator as they closed and she was relieved that the fist hadn't touched her. Jake had pushed and choked her before. He had concussed her and pushed her into a puddle of glass shard filled water. He had pinned her to the wall by her throat in broad daylight. Punching her would be the next logical step in abusing her.

Some of their conversations involved manipulation on both of their ends. Nowadays, they ended with him yelling at her, judging her like the hypocrite he was or trying to derail her healing. Jake was dangerous. On more than one occasion, he had proven to be dangerous, lacking in humanity. Essentially, Jake Ballard (or whatever his real name was) was nothing more than a broken, rabid beast in human skin.

The fact that she had known all of that and yet still allowed him to touch her, be inside of her, and to be around her family & friends was even more proof of how disturbed she had become. How much farther would she have fallen had she not reached out to Fitz that night? If she had gone through with being Alex Jones, how much worse off would she be?

She didn't want to think about it.

She didn't want to think about hating herself and those around her that much.

Opening the door, she grabbed her bag and quickly went back inside, turning all of her locks. Jake had broken in. Only she and Huck had the keys. Huck wouldn't turn his over to Jake without her express say-so, a say-so that he'd never get again. As a matter of fact, she was tempted to call Huck and tell him what happened but that idea was quickly shelved. Part of delegating was allowing her people to have lives outside of the job. Yes, there was a rule that everyone had to be reachable and that after a certain amount of time, there was to be a search party formed.

What happened to Harrison, what Rowan had done to Harrison had been unavoidable but if she had followed the rule, if she had been thinking about more than herself, then Harrison's body would've been found sooner. However, it was no longer all about Fixing for herself or her People. And Huck was doing something at the moment to help himself get better. Olivia was not going to hinder that. That wouldn't be fair.

Still, something decisive had to be done about Jake Ballard.

It could wait until the morning.

For now, she had trash to throw out and a mess to clean up.

[foxrabbit92]

My Muses & Side Characters List - Update

Joseph Grave - Albino red fox Gabriella Grave - Black rabbit Yana Agapov - Silver marten rabbit Vlad Belov - Hotot Rabbit Kevin - Weasel; made by me, but donutsandpacifism helped developed Adrian - Rabbit; made by me, but donutsandpacifism helped developed Dominick Wilde - fox/rabbit hybrid Vash Grave - Corsac fox; made by me, but donutsandpacifism helped developed Eustace Grave - Red fox; made by me, but donutsandpacifism helped developed Charles Grave & ....... - red foxes Judith, Nicolas, Nathan, Naomi - Fennec foxes Mr. & Mrs. Clawson - wolves Zebadiah - rabbit Alex Craven - Grey fox David Coney - Harlquin rabbit; created by me, but donutsandpacifism helped developed him Rey - Red fox Henry Wolfgang - Wolf Marco - Black jaguar Adler Rubio - hare; donutsandpacifism helped with his creation (Rubio's full sister) - hare; donutsandpacifism helped with her creation Naomi, Alexander, & Malachi - rabbit/hare/fox hybrids Milly - tiger Dean & Zeb - ocelot Drake - black jaguar Vash - tiger Rose & Fred Dholson - dholes Jamie - hare Abbey Wolfgang - tan wolf Fabienne Growley - snow leopard Mikey Wolfard - raccoon/hare hybrid (baby names 3) - snow leopard/hybrids (1 wolf, 2 leopards): Aidan - wolf, Jacob - leopard, ? - (fab's sister) - snow leopard Atacus - black leopard Eric - dhole Derek Redcoat - dhole Derek's wife - dhole Emily Redcoat - dhole Gregory Timber Mara Crypt - Red wolf Sarah Crypt - wolf/rabbit hybrid Peter Crypt - grizzly bear/buffalo hybrid; more donutsandpacifism than mine, but we created him together Jonathan Crypt - dhole/rabbit hybrid Nurse Wright - timber wolf; made by me, but donutsandpacifism helped developed Brandon & Darla Crypt - red wolves Elisha Huff - cougar Roselee - leopard Bogo - cape buffalo Jackson Luckfoot (Jack Savage) - white rabbit with black stripes Willa Luckfoot (Druid) - white rabbit Marcus Luckfoot - grey rabbit Tulip Luckfoot - tan rabbit Lilly Luckfoot - grey rabbit Cecily - artic fox Chloe - artic fox Adely - artic fox Catherine - human Vadim Fedorov- artic wolf Viktor Morozov - artic/red fox hybrid; created by me, but msfovercast helped me develop him (another Russian fox) - artic fox Nina - Black wolf Norman Alcatraz - white house cat; the first name and species were first created by me and donutsandpacifism, but he was scrapped. Later on I brought him back and made a bunch of changes. Msfovercast has helped me develop him. Dellah - timber wolf Dellah's grandmother & father - timber wolves Julia Alcatraz - Black jaguar Einar - enflied (hawk/fox hybrid) Rowan - tiger/wolf hybrid (howler); created by me, but msfovercast helped me develop him Avalon - wolf/rabbit hybrid (howler) Eden & Stella - wolf/rabbit/house cat hybrids (howlers) Lilly Albin - Hare Agatha Weber - hare Jared Ringtail - raccoon. Jimmy Fanglon - Black bear Elsa Clawder - red panda Jeff Corton - Coyote Chris Buckley - Elk Adeline - white tail dear Joey Regal - cheetah Tommy King - lion Balder Beowolf - tundra wolf Zakhar - wolf Ivan - wolf Dillon Fellers Abram Volkov- artic fox Mae Greer- badger Sol Greer - badger/hyena hybrid Galen Greer- hyena

[readbookywooks]

Catelyn

It seemed a thousand years ago that Catelyn Stark had carried her infant son out of Riverrun, crossing the Tumblestone in a small boat to begin their journey north to Winterfell. And it was across the Tumblestone that they came home now, though the boy wore plate and mail in place of swaddling clothes. Robb sat in the bow with Grey Wind, his hand resting on his direwolf s head as the rowers pulled at their oars. Theon Greyjoy was with him. Her uncle Brynden would come behind in the second boat, with the Greatjon and Lord Karstark. Catelyn took a place toward the stern. They shot down the Tumblestone, letting the strong current push them past the looming WheelTower. The splash and rumble of the great waterwheel within was a sound from her girlhood that brought a sad smile to Catelyn's face. From the sandstone walls of the castle, soldiers and servants shouted down her name, and Robb's, and "Winterfell!" From every rampart waved the banner of House Tully: a leaping trout, silver, against a rippling blue-and-red field. It was a stirring sight, yet it did not lift her heart. She wondered if indeed her heart would ever lift again. Oh, Ned . . . Below the WheelTower, they made a wide turn and knifed through the churning water. The men put their backs into it. The wide arch of the Water Gate came into view, and she heard the creak of heavy chains as the great iron portcullis was winched upward. It rose slowly as they approached, and Catelyn saw that the lower half of it was red with rust. The bottom foot dripped brown mud on them as they passed underneath, the barbed spikes mere inches above their heads. Catelyn gazed up at the bars and wondered how deep the rust went and how well the portcullis would stand up to a ram and whether it ought to be replaced. Thoughts like that were seldom far from her mind these days. They passed beneath the arch and under the walls, moving from sunlight to shadow and back into sunlight. Boats large and small were tied up all around them, secured to iron rings set in the stone. Her father's guards waited on the water stair with her brother. Ser Edmure Tully was a stocky young man with a shaggy head of auburn hair and a fiery beard. His breastplate was scratched and dented from battle, his blue-and-red cloak stained by blood and smoke. At his side stood the Lord Tytos Blackwood, a hard pike of a man with close-cropped salt-and-pepper whiskers and a hook nose. His bright yellow armor was inlaid with jet in elaborate vine-and-leaf patterns, and a cloak sewn from raven feathers draped his thin shoulders. It had been Lord Tytos who led the sortie that plucked her brother from the Lannister camp. "Bring them in," Ser Edmure commanded. Three men scrambled down the stairs knee-deep in the water and pulled the boat close with long hooks. When Grey Wind bounded out, one of them dropped his pole and lurched back, stumbling and sitting down abruptly in the river. The others laughed, and the man got a sheepish look on his face. Theon Greyjoy vaulted over the side of the boat and lifted Catelyn by the waist, setting her on a dry step above him as water lapped around his boots. Edmure came down the steps to embrace her. "Sweet sister," he murmured hoarsely. He had deep blue eyes and a mouth made for smiles, but he was not smiling now. He looked worn and tired, battered by battle and haggard from strain. His neck was bandaged where he had taken a wound. Catelyn hugged him fiercely. "Your grief is mine, Cat," he said when they broke apart. "When we heard about Lord Eddard . . . the Lannisters will pay, I swear it, you will have your vengeance." "Will that bring Ned back to me?" she said sharply. The wound was still too fresh for softer words. She could not think about Ned now. She would not. It would not do. She had to be strong. "All that will keep. I must see Father." "He awaits you in his solar," Edmure said. "Lord Hoster is bedridden, my lady," her father's steward explained. When had that good man grown so old and grey? "He instructed me to bring you to him at once." "I'll take her." Edmure escorted her up the water stair and across the lower bailey, where Petyr Baelish and Brandon Stark had once crossed swords for her favor. The massive sandstone walls of the keep loomed above them. As they pushed through a door between two guardsmen in fish-crest helms, she asked, "How bad is he?" dreading the answer even as she said the words. Edmure's look was somber. "He will not be with us long, the maesters say. The pain is . . . constant, and grievous." A blind rage filled her, a rage at all the world; at her brother Edmure and her sister Lysa, at the Lannisters, at the maesters, at Ned and her father and the monstrous gods who would take them both away from her. "You should have told me," she said. "You should have sent word as soon as you knew." "He forbade it. He did not want his enemies to know that he was dying. With the realm so troubled, he feared that if the Lannisters suspected how frail he was . . . " " . . . they might attack?" Catelyn finished, hard. It was your doing, yours, a voice whispered inside her. If you had not taken it upon yourself to seize the dwarf . . . They climbed the spiral stair in silence. The keep was three-sided, like Riverrun itself, and Lord Hoster's solar was triangular as well, with a stone balcony that jutted out to the east like the prow of some great sandstone ship. From there the lord of the castle could look down on his walls and battlements, and beyond, to where the waters met. They had moved her father's bed out onto the balcony. "He likes to sit in the sun and watch the rivers," Edmure explained. "Father, see who I've brought. Cat has come to see you . . . " Hoster Tully had always been a big man; tall and broad in his youth, portly as he grew older. Now he seemed shrunken, the muscle and meat melted off his bones. Even his face sagged. The last time Catelyn had seen him, his hair and beard had been brown, well streaked with grey. Now they had gone white as snow. His eyes opened to the sound of Edmure's voice. "Little cat," he murmured in a voice thin and wispy and wracked by pain. "My little cat." A tremulous smile touched his face as his hand groped for hers. "I watched for you . . . " "I shall leave you to talk," her brother said, kissing their lord father gently on the brow before he withdrew. Catelyn knelt and took her father's hand in hers. It was a big hand, but fleshless now, the bones moving loosely under the skin, all the strength gone from it. "You should have told me," she said. "A rider, a raven . . . " "Riders are taken, questioned," he answered. "Ravens are brought down . . . " A spasm of pain took him, and his fingers clutched hers hard. "The crabs are in my belly . . . pinching, always pinching. Day and night. They have fierce claws, the crabs. Maester Vyman makes me dreamwine, milk of the poppy . . . I sleep a lot . . . but I wanted to be awake to see you, when you came. I was afraid . . . when the Lannisters took your brother, the camps all around us . . . was afraid I would go, before I could see you again . . . I was afraid . . . " "I'm here, Father," she said. "With Robb, my son. He'll want to see you too." "Your boy," he whispered. "He had my eyes, I remember . . . " "He did, and does. And we've brought you Jaime Lannister, in irons. Riverrun is free again, Father." Lord Hoster smiled. "I saw. Last night, when it began, I told them . . . had to see. They carried me to the gatehouse . . . watched from the battlements. Ah, that was beautiful . . . the torches came in a wave, I could hear the cries floating across the river . . . sweet cries . . . when that siege tower went up, gods . . . would have died then, and glad, if only I could have seen you children first. Was it your boy who did it? Was it your Robb?" "Yes," Catelyn said, fiercely proud. "It was Robb . . . and Brynden. Your brother is here as well, my lord." "Him." Her father's voice was a faint whisper. "The Blackfish . . . came back? From the Vale?" "Yes." "And Lysa?" A cool wind moved through his thin white hair. "Gods be good, your sister . . . did she come as well?" He sounded so full of hope and yearning that it was hard to tell the truth. "No. I'm sorry . . . " "Oh." His face fell, and some light went out of his eyes. "I'd hoped I would have liked to see her, before . . . " "She's with her son, in the Eyrie." Lord Hoster gave a weary nod. "Lord Robert now, poor Arryn's gone . . . I remember . . . why did she not come with you?" "She is frightened, my lord. In the Eyrie she feels safe." She kissed his wrinkled brow. "Robb will be waiting. Will you see him? And Brynden?" "Your son," he whispered. "Yes. Cat's child . . . he had my eyes, I remember. When he was born. Bring him . . . yes." "And your brother?" Her father glanced out over the rivers. "Blackfish," he said. "Has he wed yet? Taken some . . . girl to wife?" Even on his deathbed, Catelyn thought sadly. "He has not wed. You know that, Father. Nor will he ever." "I told him . . . commanded him. Marry! I was his lord. He knows. My right, to make his match. A good match. A Redwyne. Old House. Sweet girl, pretty . . . freckles . . . Bethany, yes. Poor child. Still waiting. Yes. Still . . . " "Bethany Redwyne wed Lord Rowan years ago," Catelyn reminded him. "She has three children by him." "Even so," Lord Hoster muttered. "Even so. Spit on the girl. The Redwynes. Spit on me. His lord, his brother . . . that Blackfish. I had other offers. Lord Bracken's girl. Walder Frey . . . any of three, he said . . . Has he wed? Anyone? Anyone?" "No one," Catelyn said, "yet he has come many leagues to see you, fighting his way back to Riverrun. I would not be here now, if Ser Brynden had not helped us." "He was ever a warrior," her father husked. "That he could do. Knight of the Gate, yes." He leaned back and closed his eyes, inutterably weary. "Send him. Later. I'll sleep now. Too sick to fight. Send him up later, the Blackfish . . . " Catelyn kissed him gently, smoothed his hair, and left him there in the shade of his keep, with his rivers flowing beneath. He was asleep before she left the solar. When she returned to the lower bailey, Ser Brynden Tully stood on the water stairs with wet boots, talking with the captain of Riverrun's guards. He came to her at once. "Is he—" "Dying," she said. "As we feared." Her uncle's craggy face showed his pain plain. He ran his fingers through his thick grey hair. "Will he see me?" She nodded. "He says he is too sick to fight." Brynden Blackfish chuckled. "I am too old a soldier to believe that. Hoster will be chiding me about the Redwyne girl even as we light his funeral pyre, damn his bones." Catelyn smiled, knowing it was true. "I do not see Robb." "He went with Greyjoy to the hall, I believe." Theon Greyjoy was seated on a bench in Riverrun's Great Hall, enjoying a horn of ale and regaling her father's garrison with an account of the slaughter in the Whispering Wood. "Some tried to flee, but we'd pinched the valley shut at both ends, and we rode out of the darkness with sword and lance. The Lannisters must have thought the Others themselves were on them when that wolf of Robb's got in among them. I saw him tear one man's arm from his shoulder, and their horses went mad at the scent of him. I couldn't tell you how many men were thrown—" "Theon," she interrupted, "where might I find my son?" "Lord Robb went to visit the godswood, my lady." It was what Ned would have done. He is his father's son as much as mine, I must remember. Oh, gods, Ned . . . She found Robb beneath the green canopy of leaves, surrounded by tall redwoods and great old elms, kneeling before the heart tree, a slender weirwood with a face more sad than fierce. His longsword was before him, the point thrust in the earth, his gloved hands clasped around the hilt. Around him others knelt: Greatjon Umber, Rickard Karstark, Maege Mormont, Galbart Glover, and more. Even Tytos Blackwood was among them, the great raven cloak fanned out behind him. These are the ones who keep the old gods, she realized. She asked herself what gods she kept these days, and could not find an answer. It would not do to disturb them at their prayers. The gods must have their due . . . even cruel gods who would take Ned from her, and her lord father as well. So Catelyn waited. The river wind moved through the high branches, and she could see the Wheel Tower to her right, ivy crawling up its side. As she stood there, all the memories came flooding back to her. Her father had taught her to ride amongst these trees, and that was the elm that Edmure had fallen from when he broke his arm, and over there, beneath that bower, she and Lysa had played at kissing with Petyr. She had not thought of that in years. How young they all had been—she no older than Sansa, Lysa younger than Arya, and Petyr younger still, yet eager. The girls had traded him between them, serious and giggling by turns. It came back to her so vividly she could almost feel his sweaty fingers on her shoulders and taste the mint on his breath. There was always mint growing in the godswood, and Petyr had liked to chew it. He had been such a bold little boy, always in trouble. "He tried to put his tongue in my mouth," Catelyn had confessed to her sister afterward, when they were alone. "He did with me too," Lysa had whispered, shy and breathless. "I liked it." Robb got to his feet slowly and sheathed his sword, and Catelyn found herself wondering whether her son had ever kissed a girl in the godswood. Surely he must have. She had seen Jeyne Poole giving him moist-eyed glances, and some of the serving girls, even ones as old as eighteen . . . he had ridden in battle and killed men with a sword, surely he had been kissed. There were tears in her eyes. She wiped them away angrily. "Mother," Robb said when he saw her standing there. "We must call a council. There are things to be decided." "Your grandfather would like to see you," she said. "Robb, he's very sick." "Ser Edmure told me. I am sorry, Mother . . . for Lord Hoster and for you. Yet first we must meet. We've had word from the south. Renly Baratheon has claimed his brother's crown." "Renly?" she said, shocked. "I had thought, surely it would be Lord Stannis . . . " "So did we all, my lady," Galbart Glover said. The war council convened in the Great Hall, at four long trestle tables arranged in a broken square. Lord Hoster was too weak to attend, asleep on his balcony, dreaming of the sun on the rivers of his youth. Edmure sat in the high seat of the Tullys, with Brynden Blackfish at his side, and his father's bannermen arrayed to right and left and along the side tables. Word of the victory at Riverrun had spread to the fugitive lords of the Trident, drawing them back. Karyl Vance came in, a lord now, his father dead beneath the Golden Tooth. Ser Marq Piper was with him, and they brought a Darry, Ser Raymun's son, a lad no older than Bran. Lord Jonos Bracken arrived from the ruins of Stone Hedge, glowering and blustering, and took a seat as far from Tytos Blackwood as the tables would permit. The northern lords sat opposite, with Catelyn and Robb facing her brother across the tables. They were fewer. The Greatjon sat at Robb's left hand, and then Theon Greyjoy; Galbart Glover and Lady Mormont were to the right of Catelyn. Lord Rickard Karstark, gaunt and hollow-eyed in his grief, took his seat like a man in a nightmare, his long beard uncombed and unwashed. He had left two sons dead in the Whispering Wood, and there was no word of the third, his eldest, who had led the Karstark spears against Tywin Lannister on the Green Fork. The arguing raged on late into the night. Each lord had a right to speak, and speak they did . . . and shout, and curse, and reason, and cajole, and jest, and bargain, and slam tankards on the table, and threaten, and walk out, and return sullen or smiling. Catelyn sat and listened to it all. Roose Bolton had re-formed the battered remnants of their other host at the mouth of the causeway. Ser Helman Tallhart and Walder Frey still held the Twins. Lord Tywin's army had crossed the Trident, and was making for Harrenhal. And there were two kings in the realm. Two kings, and no agreement. Many of the lords bannermen wanted to march on Harrenhal at once, to meet Lord Tywin and end Lannister power for all time. Young, hot-tempered Marq Piper urged a strike west at Casterly Rock instead. Still others counseled patience. Riverrun sat athwart the Lannister supply lines, Jason Mallister pointed out; let them bide their time, denying Lord Tywin fresh levies and provisions while they strengthened their defenses and rested their weary troops. Lord Blackwood would have none of it. They should finish the work they began in the Whispering Wood. March to Harrenhal and bring Roose Bolton's army down as well. What Blackwood urged, Bracken opposed, as ever; Lord Jonos Bracken rose to insist they ought pledge their fealty to King Renly, and move south to join their might to his. "Renly is not the king," Robb said. It was the first time her son had spoken. Like his father, he knew how to listen. "You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey, my lord," Galbart Glover said. "He put your father to death." "That makes him evil," Robb replied. "I do not know that it makes Renly king. Joffrey is still Robert's eldest trueborn son, so the throne is rightfully his by all the laws of the realm. Were he to die, and I mean to see that he does, he has a younger brother. Tommen is next in line after Joffrey." "Tommen is no less a Lannister," Ser Marq Piper snapped. "As you say," said Robb, troubled. "Yet if neither one is king, still, how could it be Lord Renly? He's Robert's younger brother. Bran can't be Lord of Winterfell before me, and Renly can't be king before Lord Stannis." Lady Mormont agreed. "Lord Stannis has the better claim." "Renly is crowned," said Marq Piper. "Highgarden and Storm's End support his claim, and the Dornishmen will not be laggardly. If Winterfell and Riverrun add their strength to his, he will have five of the seven great houses behind him. Six, if the Arryns bestir themselves! Six against the Rock! My lords, within the year, we will have all their heads on pikes, the queen and the boy king, Lord Tywin, the Imp, the Kingslayer, Ser Kevan, all of them! That is what we shall win if we join with King Renly. What does Lord Stannis have against that, that we should cast it all aside?" "The right," said Robb stubbornly. Catelyn thought he sounded eerily like his father as he said it. "So you mean us to declare for Stannis?" asked Edmure. "I don't know," said Robb. "I prayed to know what to do, but the gods did not answer. The Lannisters killed my father for a traitor, and we know that was a lie, but if Joffrey is the lawful king and we fight against him, we will be traitors." "My lord father would urge caution," aged Ser Stevron said, with the weaselly smile of a Frey. "Wait, let these two kings play their game of thrones. When they are done fighting, we can bend our knees to the victor, or oppose him, as we choose. With Renly arming, likely Lord Tywin would welcome a truce . . . and the safe return of his son. Noble lords, allow me to go to him at Harrenhal and arrange good terms and ransoms . . . " A roar of outrage drowned out his voice. "Craven!" the Greatjon thundered. "Begging for a truce will make us seem weak," declared Lady Mormont. "Ransoms be damned, we must not give up the Kingslayer," shouted Rickard Karstark. "Why not a peace?" Catelyn asked. The lords looked at her, but it was Robb's eyes she felt, his and his alone. "My lady, they murdered my lord father, your husband," he said grimly. He unsheathed his longsword and laid it on the table before him, the bright steel on the rough wood. "This is the only peace I have for Lannisters." The Greatjon bellowed his approval, and other men added their voices, shouting and drawing swords and pounding their fists on the table. Catelyn waited until they had quieted. "My lords," she said then, "Lord Eddard was your liege, but I shared his bed and bore his children. Do you think I love him any less than you?" Her voice almost broke with her grief, but Catelyn took a long breath and steadied herself. "Robb, if that sword could bring him back, I should never let you sheathe it until Ned stood at my side once more . . . but he is gone, and hundred Whispering Woods will not change that. Ned is gone, and Daryn Hornwood, and Lord Karstark's valiant sons, and many other good men besides, and none of them will return to us. Must we have more deaths still?" "You are a woman, my lady," the Greatjon rumbled in his deep voice. "Women do not understand these things." "You are the gentle sex," said Lord Karstark, with the lines of grief fresh on his face. "A man has a need for vengeance." "Give me Cersei Lannister, Lord Karstark, and you would see how gentle a woman can be," Catelyn replied. "Perhaps I do not understand tactics and strategy . . . but I understand futility. We went to war when Lannister armies were ravaging the riverlands, and Ned was a prisoner, falsely accused of treason. We fought to defend ourselves, and to win my lord's freedom. "Well, the one is done, and the other forever beyond our reach. I will mourn for Ned until the end of my days, but I must think of the living. I want my daughters back, and the queen holds them still. If I must trade our four Lannisters for their two Starks, I will call that a bargain and thank the gods. I want you safe, Robb, ruling at Winterfell from your father's seat. I want you to live your life, to kiss a girl and wed a woman and father a son. I want to write an end to this. I want to go home, my lords, and weep for my husband." The hall was very quiet when Catelyn finished speaking. "Peace," said her uncle Brynden. "Peace is sweet, my lady . . . but on what terms? It is no good hammering your sword into a plowshare if you must forge it again on the morrow." "What did Torrhen and my Eddard die for, if I am to return to Karhold with nothing but their bones?" asked Rickard Karstark. "Aye," said Lord Bracken. "Gregor Clegane laid waste to my fields, slaughtered my smallfolk, and left Stone Hedge a smoking ruin. Am I now to bend the knee to the ones who sent him? What have we fought for, if we are to put all back as it was before?" Lord Blackwood agreed, to Catelyn's surprise and dismay. "And if we do make peace with King Joffrey, are we not then traitors to King Renly? What if the stag should prevail against the lion, where would that leave us?" "Whatever you may decide for yourselves, I shall never call a Lannister my king," declared Marq Piper. "Nor I!" yelled the little Darry boy. "I never will!" Again the shouting began. Catelyn sat despairing. She had come so close, she thought. They had almost listened, almost . . . but the moment was gone. There would be no peace, no chance to heal, no safety. She looked at her son, watched him as he listened to the lords debate, frowning, troubled, yet wedded to his war. He had pledged himself to marry a daughter of Walder Frey, but she saw his true bride plain before her now: the sword he had laid on the table. Catelyn was thinking of her girls, wondering if she would ever see them again, when the Greatjon lurched to his feet. "MY LORDS!" he shouted, his voice booming off the rafters. "Here is what I say to these two kings!" He spat. " Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine, from some flowery seat in Highgarden or Dorne? What do they know of the Wall or the wolfswood or the barrows of the First Men? Even their gods are wrong. The Others take the Lannisters too, I've had a bellyful of them." He reached back over his shoulder and drew his immense two-handed greatsword. "Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we married, and the dragons are all dead!" He pointed at Robb with the blade. "There sits the only king I mean to bow my knee to, m'lords," he thundered. "The King in the North!" And he knelt, and laid his sword at her son's feet. "I'll have peace on those terms," Lord Karstark said. "They can keep their red castle and their iron chair as well." He eased his longsword from its scabbard. "The King in the North!" he said, kneeling beside the Greatjon. Maege Mormont stood. "The King of Winter!" she declared, and laid her spiked mace beside the swords. And the river lords were rising too, Blackwood and Bracken and Mallister, houses who had never been ruled from Winterfell, yet Catelyn watched them rise and draw their blades, bending their knees and shouting the old words that had not been heard in the realm for more than three hundred years, since Aegon the Dragon had come to make the Seven Kingdoms one . . . yet now were heard again, ringing from the timbers of her father's hall: "The King in the North!" "The King in the North!" "THE KING IN THE NORTH!"