The Tensions of War and of the Past

A/N: Just wanted to take a moment to say that as of this moment, I have officially posted over 200 chapters on Chyoa! Thanks for all the support and interest that have helped me get to this point, guys. Much appreciated!

Epigraph:

To make matters worse, the Oracle of the Weirwood has been restored; it’s nature god that Greenseers used to worship finally awakening in full.

King Jon walked through the halls of New Castle, deep in thought. He had just parted ways with Margaery so that she could go back to her quarters in order to clean and compose herself after the news of her last husband's **** brought her to tears. Curiously enough, he realized that her emotional reaction to the demise of the Lannister king didn't bother him at all. Even if Tommen belonged to an enemy House that has brought his family nothing but grief in recent years, there was something strangely comforting in learning that his sister's close friend felt remorse and sadness for his ****, even if Margaery hadn't really loved him.

At the very least it made him less wary about the prospect of bringing her into his future marriage with Sansa than if she had just felt relieved at his passing, like if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders which made her free to marry again. Given what he had heard about the Tyrells ambitions, her moment of grief and regret for not warning him that they would find a way to escape the city, thereby contributing to Tommen's decision to kill himself, made her feel more...genuine to him. He felt like, for the first time, he was seeing a crack in the political mask she is used to wearing, and that moment, in turn, made him feel emotional himself. Which was why he had tried his best to comfort her and gave her his word that if she was actually cursed, even if he didn't really believe that himself, then he would find a way to break it with the new powers at his disposal.

But then, he saw...something...melt behind her eyes and their moment escalated when she kissed him with a passion. That had taken him off guard and he hesitated to return the feelings she was offering up to him, his mind going immediately to his beloved sister. But then he remembered Sansa's position when it came to her best friend and he finally allowed himself to kiss her back, his hand caressing the back of her head tenderly. And as the Golden Rose smiled through their liplock, he realized he was starting to find himself caring strongly for the woman he was embracing.

Jon sighed, rubbing his forehead and wondering not for the first time why exactly had the mightier deity that empowered him been so adamant at the idea of him getting a harem. At first, he had been worried he would not be able to have enough love in his heart for several women at once. But now, after his passionate moment with Margaery, he was growing concerned that he actually had enough space in his stabbed chest for all of them.

And that scared him because it meant he didn't know himself as much as he thought he did. After striving to follow his father's honorable example for much of his life, he would be lying if he said that he still didn't have some mixed feelings at the idea of marrying multiple wives even if they all agreed.

He was so deep in thought while walking that when he turned a corner and found himself staring at Sarella Sand, he almost failed to stop himself from crashing into her. Then he remembered that he had found the delightfully clever and intelligent woman intriguing since the moment he met her and almost bit his bottom lip, wondering yet again about the sense of humor of the higher god.

"My King," She said with a bow and a growing smile. "I am glad to have run into you before you left, as I have something for you."

The secret god tried to prevent the conflicted feelings he was experiencing, as a result of the excited smile she was beaming at him from her beautiful face to show on his own expression but he did give her a kind smile in return. For some reason, he tended to feel comfortable about Sarella.

"Maybe it's because we both grew up as bastards from one of the Great Houses," He considered as the stray thought came to his mind.

"Well, here I am," Jon ended up saying aloud. "And as always, it is good to see you, Sarella," He ended up admitting before he caught the words on the throat.

She tilted her head at that, and the delight from whatever was keeping her in a good mood shone brighter in her eyes. "I am pleased to hear that, your Grace."

And with that, she handed him over the letter she had been carrying on her right hand.

"I know you have to leave very soon to come to the aid of your army against the Bolton forces," She acknowledged. "But since you told me before leaving for Braavos to come up with names for your Ice Dragon to be ready upon your return, I decided to write down the reasoning for my suggestions in this letter to save you time. I hope you like my conclusions when you get the chance to read them."

The King of the North and the Trident blinked at that for a moment, remembering about the request he made of her, before taking the letter in his own hand. "That was considerate. And it shows initiative while obeying my commands. Thank you, my new advisor. I will be sure to read your ideas and give them the time they deserve as soon as I can."

The daughter of the late Prince of Dorne grinned even more widely at him, her clean, white teeth showing. "Thank you, your Grace. After being rejected by the Citadel due to my sex alone, I am really pleased to hear you appreciate my efforts."

Then she took a deep breath. "I am departing with another large group of riders and landed knights towards Winterfell in the morning. Some of the soldiers that Lord Wyman wasn't able to rally in time to obey your orders once he marched towards your home to clear it from any remaining Bolton soldiers now that the bulk of their army will clash with yours near Ironrath are now ready to go. We will reinforce the ruler of White Harbor if need be and if not, I intend to wait for my king's triumphant return to his ancestral seat. So...please don't die, your Grace," Sarella requested, her tone soft. "Maybe it sounds like too much wishful thinking since we hadn't known each other long but I hadn't felt so hopeful towards the future in a long, long time. And when I start dreaming at night, you are a big part why," She confessed, while holding his gaze.

Jon Stark inhaled deeply at her words and nodded slowly. "I thank you for being so honest with me. So, I give you my word as a Stark that you will see me again."

The Sand Snake gave him a fond look, her smile less wide but, somehow, even more affectionate. "I was going to say that in light of the coming conflict, that is not really up to you but somehow I believe you with every fiber of my being. Must be because of all the tales I have heard about you Starks being nothing if not relentless when trying to keep your oaths," She added with a light chuckle. "Thank you for putting my mind at ease, my King. That is much appreciated."

"You're welcome," Jon responded with a fond smile of his own. "Well, I need to go look for Arya to let her know we have to go but it was very good to see you. And when we meet again, I will tell you a bit more about some intelligence reports I learned from the Iron Bank of Braavos. They have me the impression that your cousin, Princess Arianne Martell is most likely still very much alive."

Sarella's eyes widened at that. "I am so glad to hear that! After the coup at Sunspear and her continued disappearance, I have feared the worst. All the more reason to ride as fast as I can on my way to Winterfell, then."

He chuckled. "I suppose. Until we meet again, my dear advisor. And just so you know...I meant it when I said that it's always good to see you."

They locked gazes for a moment longer before she inhaled sharply. "I could tell, your Grace. Thank you for your time and may fortune smile upon you in the battle to come."

And with that, she walked away heading further down the hall. Jon watched her go for a moment longer and sighed deeply, his conflicted feelings consuming his scarred chest again.

"Yeah, that god must definitely have a strange sense of humor," He muttered.

Then he shook his head and was off, getting back to looking for Arya.

Gwyn Whitehill looked on, grinning as Lady Sansa managed to raise the morale of their army into a battle-ready frenzy with her inspiring speech. Staring at her confident bearing while riding her mighty direwolf companion while they were both standing above a mammoth, no less, the new Lady of Highpoint was struck by how strong and regal her immediate liege looked; as if she were standing shoulder to shoulder with the legendary Stark kings of the past.

Gwyn smiled as the roars of the crowd grew louder still. "She has certainly come a long way since heading south all those years ago," She thought. "I guess there is a bit of truth in what my older brother said to me before going to the Citadel: what doesn't kill you can make you stronger."

The stray thoughts involving her older brother suddenly made her tense, as her position became clear in her mind once again, along with the dangers around her. With her vile and treacherous father dead, along with her brothers Karl and Torrhen, she was the only legal heir to House Whitehill left standing, due to Ebbert becoming a Maester and Gryff being sent to the Wall like the violent criminal he was after King Jon broke the siege of Ironrath on dragonback. And while she really want to marry her beloved Asher, she couldn't help but grieve at the idea of effectively becoming the last of her kind, even if that meant she could work to finally end the ancient blood feud between the Whitehills and Forresters.

"That is if we survive this battle," She thought, abruptly.

She clenched her jaw at the idea, feeling dread in her stomach once more as her eyes instinctively look for her betrothed. Because while she did believe there was a high chance they would be able to win the battle despite being outnumbered, it hadn't escaped her that there could be heavy losses to pay before it was over...some heavier than others were her own heart was concerned.

It was with that thought in mind that she finally spotted Asher, making his way to her and smiling warmly in the process.

Smiling back, with a tinge of sadness in her eyes, Gwyn realized that it still felt a bit surreal that she was now finally free to marry the love of her life. There was a part of her that still expected to wake up anytime now and realize she had dreamt the last week or so. And for a while there, she was almost certain that she was going to wake up after reaching the waked Old God her beloved's family had been apparently hiding and witnessing the incredible sight of the Burning Weirwood first hand.

But when it didn't, she understood that there was truly no going back. She was the future of her House by this point and she intended to intertwine it with Asher.

Assuming that monstrous Bolton doesn't interfere...

It was with that grim thought in mind that Asher reunited with her, the intense shouts from the army starting to quiet down by then.

"Well, that speech was certainly better than the ones I heard when working for a few Sellsword companies back on Essos," He acknowledged. "And more effective on morale too. I am glad we didn't miss it."

The Lady of Highpoint nodded in agreement but she also understood the implication from his words, which made her sigh. She had insisted on following Asher to their parley with Ramsay both to represent the path of House Whitehill despite their old allegiance to House Bolton and to stand with her betrothed for as long as she could before the battle actually begun. But now that both armies were bracing themselves for the fight to come, she was objectively much better off heading back to Ironrath. After all, she may be competent with her dagger but she was no soldier and she knew she wouldn't last long if she insisted on staying with the army. All the same, she couldn't help but grip her short blade's handle tightly, wishing there was more she could do.

Asher sighed, his eyes full of empathy at her concerned expression. "I am coming back, Gwyn."

"You don't know that," She responded, her lips quivering. "But I won't insult you and insist you shouldn't fight to protect your family and your home. I know I wish I had fought harder to convince my own to see reason and end the conflict between our Houses. Just...no unnecessary heroics, please?" She begged. "I don't want to become a widow before my actual wedding, especially after waiting so long for your return."

Asher was quiet for a long moment but then he got closer and locked his gaze with hers, placing his hands tenderly across her cheek. "You know," He said, his voice as soft as his touch, "I may have really liked Lady Sansa's speech but there was a part of it that gave me pause, because I realized that, even if we win this battle, I won't be able to greet the reaper with my chin held high if I die tonight. It would feel hollow for me because all I would be able to think is that I couldn't return to you and start that family I always dreamt of building with my beloved Gwyn."

The Lady of Highpoint started to tear up as she held his gaze but then he sighed once more, this time more heavily.

"You are right, I don't know if I will actually come back from the fight," The finest warrior of Ironrath admitted. "But I just know that there is a bright future waiting for us if the battle goes our way. So, when I look at you right now, I realize that my will to live has never been higher. And I will draw from that strength when the time comes so that I can do my best to fight my way home to you."

Gwyn's tears were now dropping to the snowy ground below and she started trembling but not from the cold. "Oh, Asher."

And with that, they embraced, expressing the years of a time long spent apart as their lips met.

She just hoped it wasn't for the last time.

King Jon found his little sister in one of the dining tables adjoined to the Great Hall of New Castle, having supper with the Hound, Lord Beric Dondarrion, and the Red Priest, Thoros of Myr. They hadn't noticed his presence still.

"...and that was when I told him, "don't look at me, I am the sister that wanted to see you hang,", Arya was saying.

The Red Priest and the revived Lord of Blackhaven exchanged an amused glance at that while the Hound scoffed.

"Hanging, such a wasteful method of execution," He muttered before putting another piece of chicken in his mouth and downing it with some wine.

Arya raised an eyebrow while Thoros shrugged. "He is still a little sore that we didn't let him use his ax to butcher the criminals who burned down the sept and villagers that had taken him in and chose to hang them quickly instead."

His sister looked at the Hound more firmly then, as if rethinking a few things with that new bit of information. If that was the case, however, she didn't elaborate. Jon decided to take that as his cue to clear his throat. They turned in his direction then and Arya brighten at the sight of him.

"Assuming you still want to come to the battle, then it's time to go," He announced.

"Of course I am coming!" She responded, sounding seemingly scandalized that he could consider the possibility that she had changed her mind. "I didn't spend years looking for my family and being too late to help them more than once only to find you and remain away while you fly straight into danger right away."

"I guess I can't argue with that," The secret god acknowledged. "But as you said, we are heading straight into a battle so allow me to repeat myself one more time: do your best to follow my lead when we get there."

The Hound snorted. "Good luck getting her to follow orders. I couldn't even convince her to kill me after I was gravely wounded."

Jon's eyes widened slightly at that and he turned to look at his sister for clarification. By way of answering, Arya turned back to Sandor Clegane rolled her eyes. "You are going to complain about that? Seriously?"

The scared man shrugged. "You have been talking for a while now, instead of hoarding your words like a nighttime mute. As you know, listening to talkers makes me thirsty. And getting drunk makes me complain more easily."

"Remind me not to give you more bottles of wine then," She muttered. "Well, until we meet again, I guess. Do try not to die. I want to see the look on your face when I beat Brienne of Tarth in a spar."

The former Lannister soldier tilted his head as he looked at her. "You are a vindictive girl, you know that?"

"And that's why you like," His sister added in an amused tone. "Try to keep him alive for me, will you?"

"I can't promise that my Lord of Light will accept my call of resurrection on his part should he fall," Thoros warned. "But I suppose I can try to keep him out of unnecessary trouble."

This was met with an expression of alarm by the Hound. "You keep your bloody prayers away from me, you hear me? Because I swear, if you actually manage to bring me back to life with the power of a fire god, I will literally come back to haunt you."

Lord Beric chuckled. "Careful, Clegane, your life-long fears are showing."

"Bah," He spat out and narrowed his eyes. "You be careful with your slippery tongue that spends so much time babbling about the Lord. I could always kill you a second time."

"Ah, I see now, that's the way you bond with people," Dondarrion responded with a look of dawning realization. "It warms my heart that you really want to be our friend."

The Hound shook his head while muttering about the madness of fire worshipers under his breath but said nothing else. Jon just felt bewildered at the exchange between the group, his eyes going back and forth as he watched them bicker and amuse each other. Then he shook his head and stared at the mighty warrior that once served the Lannisters.

"I have talked with Lady Wynafryd to get you out of the White Harbor prison," He reminded them. "Please try not to do anything to make me regret that while I am gone."

"We will behave," Thoros of Myr, replied as he raised his cup of wine. "Safe travels and victory to you, your Grace."

"And if you get in a position where you need to use it, best of fortune at wielding your new Valyrian Steel blade into battle, Lady Stark," Lord Beric added. "Something tells me that Dark Sister in your hand would be quite the sight to see."

Arya smirked at them. "Maybe one day I will be able to spare with you. Until then, try not to die a 7th time, will you?"

"I will do my best," He responded. "Take care."

And with that, Arya turned around and followed Jon to the hallway that lead to the large courtyard where his dragon had been sleeping. The king was the one that spoke first

"You have made some...interesting friends along the way," He said, slowly.

Arya just chuckled, the sound of her laughter filling the path.