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Chapter Text

“War is the greatest plague that can afflict humanity, it destroys religion, it destroys states, it destroys families. Any scourge is preferable to it.”
Martin Luther

The mouse had one job and one job only: to watch. She -for it would be impolite to call such a lady ‘it’ -scurried around the whole day -avoiding guards and over zealous maids -just to observe what happened in the Citadel.

Now, this mouse wasn’t actually a spy. She wasn’t going around telling people the secrets of the city and its regent. No, sir. She only listened, just in case.

It was early in the year 3018, when the sons of the regent started speaking about strange dreams and travelling to places, and yet, the mouse only listened.

When those horrid creatures attacked and the sons fought to defend the border of their home, the mouse still only listened.

And finally, when the son of the regent -the eldest one, the most beloved one -left on a journey, it was then that the mouse thought maybe she should do more than just listen.

The day after the son had left, the mouse found a man tying a letter to a raven. That was when the mouse knew: she’d decided to talk a bit too late. Someone else out there had been watching as well.

Chapter Text

Cair Paravel, Narnia

Spying one neighbouring kingdoms wasn’t something the Queens and Kings of Narnia enjoyed doing. They actually went to great lengths to avoid it all together, especially when there wasn’t a formal treaty -or threat -between said kingdoms.

However, it had come to their attention -quite recently -that this might not have been a smart choice.

Two years prior, Westeros had been involved in a big war. Not just for the Iron Throne -as they called it -but also against the dead and an endless Winter.

Westeros could have been destroyed and they would’ve been next, and they hadn’t even known about it.

After that they had no choice. They put their trusted ones in key locations across neighbouring kingdoms with strict orders: unless something could affect Narnia, don’t get in touch.

Things had been going rather well in that sense, until they got a message from Minas Tirith.

Then one from Edoras.

Then another one from Isengard.

Whatever was happening there, it was not good; so they called a meeting.

King Peter sighed as he looked around the table; his siblings were all looking back at him. This was a hard choice, one he didn’t want to make.

Actually, the choice was already made, but he felt that as soon as he said it out loud it’d be too late to take anything back. Maybe if he held this moment, if he didn’t say the words, his siblings wouldn’t have to leave to fight another war.

“Susan.” He turned to his sister. “Are you going to Rohan?”

“Yes, Peter.” She was calm, elegant, and focused as usual. “The rumours we have heard about their King’s health are concerning.”

“Maybe I should go, then.” Lucy spoke up.

Susan shook her head. “There is something telling me to go there. You should go with Ed to Minas Tirith.”

Edmund also didn’t look happy with those events. “I know why we are doing this…” He sighed. “But I do not like it.”

“The dark power coming from Mordor is spreading like poison.” Lucy covered her brother’s hand with hers. “Maybe now they are looking at Gondor and Rohan, but darkness like that knows no borders. If we let them go…”

“They will get here.” Peter finished for her. It was time to say the words, time to make the call. “I will stay here and wait for your letters. If needed, our army will find you. Farewell to you.”

***

Once they left the meeting, Susan started walking down the corridor. Lucy reached her and intertwined her fingers to her sister’s without saying another word.

Susan let her do it, just holding Lucy’s small hand while they walked.

There were many things Susan wanted to say to her sister and to her brothers. Many fears she wished to share, but wouldn’t dare.

She’d had dreams about this. Dark, tempestuous dreams with horses running and fields burning. She’d wake up with the taste of smoke on her tongue and a name on her lips. She could never actually call it, she didn’t know who she was calling for, but she knew it meant something.

When the first message from Edoras came, Susan knew that this was the place she saw burning in her dreams. She just did. There was something there, and she needed to go and find it.

“What about the other spy?” Lucy suddenly said.

“The one we think might be from Westeros? There is not much we can do, besides hoping they either do not have the army or the interest in this war.”

“After what happened there, I doubt they already recovered their strength.” Lucy agreed. “However, there are rumours…”

“About the dragons?” Susan guessed.

“Dragons, Sue! Real dragons.”

“Let us hope that the rumours that the Dragon Queen is tired of wars is true. I am not saying she would not be helpful here…”

“But what if she decided to fight alongside the enemy?” Lucy completed what her sister couldn’t.

“Exactly.” Susan nodded. “The people of Westeros… I have heard stories, I read books… I do not wish to put my trust on them.”

“And the people of Rohan?”

“I hope we can help each other. As we discussed… We do not want this power to destroy the lands and then arrive here stronger.”

They had reached the garden, so Lucy stopped and turned to her sister. “I do not want you going alone.” She confessed, still holding her sister’s hand. “I fear that, if you leave, I will never see you again.”

Susan used her free hand to cup her sister’s face. “You will see me again, Lucy. If not in this world, in the next one. We are bound together and I will always come back to you.”

Lucy had tears in her eyes when she hugged her sister.

Chapter Text

White Harbour, The North

Queen Sansa Stark could still marvel at Tywin’s drive. She might despise the man for his family and on principle, but he’d been undeniably smart.

Smart to the point of being dead, and still having spies in neighbouring kingdoms. Although she had to wonder how good his spies were if they didn’t know that their lord was long gone.

Tyrion had been the one to write to her to let her know about the letter that had arrived from  Minas Tirith. Sansa hadn’t been particularly interested in that letter.

And then… News came in from the Riverlands.

And then from Narnia.

Honestly, everyone was way too eager to move around these days.

They had to meet and it had to be fast. Sansa wasn’t interested in going anywhere near King’s Landing again, but she was ready to compromise with Queen Daenerys.

She’d been surprised when they offered to meet in White Harbour. Tyrion probably had been the one to suggest it, but she was happy that they’d managed to agree on the place.

Arya was crackling with energy and Brienne had asked more than once if Sansa was fine. She trusted her people to keep her safe and she also believed that Daenerys wouldn’t invite her for a meeting only to kill her.

Not at this point, at least.

When Sansa arrived in New Castle, she heard that Daenerys was already there. She asked for just a few moments to refresh herself, and soon moved to join the others.

Sansa had nodded at Margaery when she’d entered the meeting room. The lady winked back from her place and Sansa had to prevent herself from smiling.

It wasn’t time for that.

Apparently, it was time for another war.

Sansa could see in all the faces in that room: they were all beyond tired of this.

However, guards had captured orcs in the Riverlands. Not a good sign.

When Daenerys entered the room, followed by Tyrion and Varys, greetings were exchanged. The two queens locked gazes.

“Queen Sansa.”

“Queen Daenerys.”

Sansa could feel Arya’s tension by her side. Although there were no hard feelings between the queens now, everybody was prepared for this to go badly.

It wouldn’t. Sansa knew her priorities.

“We have heard the reports about the Riverlands.” Sansa prompted.

“Yes.” Daenerys sighed. “We believe it was a scouting party.”

Jon frowned. “How many?”

“Twenty.” Tyrion was the one to answer.

“Is Mordor at war with its neighbouring kingdoms?” Jon pressed.

“That is the problem.” Varys was the one to speak. “We do not know exactly what is happening there.”

“However…” Tyrion spoke up. “If Mordor is readying itself for war, it would be foolish of us to think we will not be next.”

Yes, that was what Sansa thought as well. “You mentioned a letter from a spy.” She directed the sentence to Tyrion.

“Yes. However, we only know that the tension between kingdoms seems to be increasing. We do not know if war is imminent.”

“Do we truly care?” Daenerys asked the table. “This is my concern. I have heard stories about the evil from Mordor, that is true. But I have never imagined they were anything but scary stories to tell children.”

“We used to think the same about the Night King.” Jaime piped up from the back of the room. “He turned out to be quite real.”

Daenerys made a gesture as if to indicate that was her point.

“We could wait and see.” Jon pointed out. “If Mordor is going to start a war, they will start with the nearest kingdoms; Gondor and Rohan. This could give us more time to prepare, know our enemy, and think of strategies.”

So wait a bit more time before the next war? That sounded awful in Sansa’s opinion. And -as she locked eyes with Daenerys -she knew the other woman thought the same.

They needed to get rid of the men and talk better about this.

***

Margaery had never imagined herself in the current situation, but she couldn’t complain. At least she was alive.

Sansa beside her was drinking wine and pretending she couldn’t see Arya glaring at Daenerys. Brienne was guarding the door, but Margaery could see she was beyond curious. They all knew Daenerys hadn’t invited Sansa over for tea.

“What do you think of the meeting?” The Targaryen Queen asked Sansa directly.

“Waste of time.” Sansa looked at her. “The same as you.”

Daenerys nodded. “You also prefer if they fight away from us.”

“There is no army left here, no land that can withstand another war.” Sansa said exactly what Daenerys was thinking. “I do not want the North to go through that again.”

“I agree. The question is… What will we do?” Daenerys sighed. “Should we foment a war in another country to save ours?” She arched an eyebrow at Sansa.

“No.” Sansa was firm in her answer.

Daenerys grinned. “I am glad to see us agreeing on things.”

Sansa scoffed. “Yes.”

“If I may, Your Grace.” Margaery called from her place. “If Mordor is planning an attack, they will start with Gondor and Rohan, as we have previously discussed. Why don’t we make friends?”

“Enemy of my enemy?” Sansa said, clearly reading the intent behind Margaery’s words.

“Maybe we will be really good friends.” Margaery pointed out.

“I want to go.” Arya was quick to say, almost leaping from her chair.

Sansa gave her a look. “Are you serious?”

“I did not get to see the orcs in the Riverlands.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “I will go.” She decided. “Arya can come with me; Jon and Bran can take care of the North.”

Daenerys arched an eyebrow. “Why would you go personally?”

“This is a serious threat, and if we are going to need diplomacy to solve it, I would rather be the one taking care of it.”

Daenerys grinned. “I admire your drive.” She turned to Margaery. “How about you, Lady Tyrell? What do you think of a little journey?”

“I am always eager to serve, Your Grace.” Margaery replied easily.

“Then it is settled.” Daenerys decided. “I will stay and wait for news.” She nodded at the others, made a gesture for Missandei to follow her.

Sansa watched Daenerys leaving the room and sighed. “Now what?” She asked Margaery.

The lady got up and offered her arm to Sansa. “I will go to Minas Tirith and talk to Lord Denethor.”

Sansa accepted her friend’s arm and started walking with her. “Would you like me to go instead?”

She’d heard that Denethor wasn’t the easiest man to talk to.

“No.” Margaery made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “You should go to Rohan. You are better suited to talk to Théoden King. You strong Northern-types understand each other.”

Sansa arched an eyebrow. “Us strong Northern-types?”

“You know what I mean.” Margaery grinned at her.

Sansa pressed the bridge of her nose. “Those are strange times…”

“Oh I know that, darling.” Margaery patted her hand gently.

“When are you leaving?”

“Immediately. I want to get to Minas Tirith soon and start working my magic.” She grinned at Sansa. “How about you?”

“I need to take care of some things back at Winterfell before going. I will leave later.”

“Do not wait too long, or I might take over Gondor before you even set foot in Rohan.” Margery teased.

“I would not put it past you.”

Chapter Text

Margaery had always wanted to be Queen. Not a Queen, the Queen, as she’d said herself once -in what felt like another lifetime now.

She was willing to do whatever it took to wear that crown, and she’d almost died for it. She had her grandmother to thank for being alive: before the trial Olenna had sent people to get her and Loras out at any cost.

Margaery had protested, thinking it was the way to defeat Cersei. Then the Sept exploded, Tommen -thinking her dead- killed himself and Cersei became the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Margaery realised she’d grossly underestimated Cersei. She’d never imagined the woman would go that far for power, and she’d almost paid for it with her life.

Olenna had. When Jaime Lannister took HighGarden, her grandmother had been there and she was executed for treason.

When she finally managed to look at Jaime’s face long enough to have a conversation with him, he confessed to her what her grandmother had said about Joffrey. She knew Olenna would never go quietly. It made her proud.

Once Daenerys came around, it was all about surviving. Margaery realised she didn’t care about being a Queen anymore. Power might be fun, but it meant nothing if she had to spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder.

Maybe she wasn’t as smart as she’d thought before. Maybe that was fine.

She was alive and -at the end of the day, in Westeros -that was a blessing.

Besides, she didn’t mind serving Queen Daenerys at all. She was a brilliant woman and she had vision.

Therefore, if Daenerys wanted Margaery to go to another kingdom to talk to another leader… Why wouldn’t she go?

“This is all the information we managed to gather about Gondor.” Varys presented her the reports they had available. “It is not much, as we have never had that much contact or interest.”

“My father clearly had enough interest.” Tyrion commented from his place. “These are older, but they are more detailed.” He indicated the old letters in front of him.

For what they’d gathered, Lord Denethor was the Regent of Gondor. He was a widower, and had two sons: Boromir -his favoured child -and Faramir. There was a rough sketch of the family and some other accounts.

Apparently, Denethor had become a paranoid man over the years. There was a bitterness that clung to him, a certain desperation that was just always there. He wasn’t known as an easy man.

“It seems like I will have to keep both my eyes on him.” Margaery commented.

“You have a knack for controlling mad men.” Tyrion quipped from his place. “We have faith in you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I will take a small party.”

Daenerys nodded her approval. “Be careful.” She asked. “Don’t reveal too much. And if you feel like you are in danger, send me a message immediately. I do not care about Gondor, I will fly over in a dragon to get you out.”

Margaery curtsied. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

***

Loras groaned. “Gondor?”

Margaery gave him a look. “It is an adventure.”

“Since when do you care about adventures?” He wanted to know.

“I do not.” Margaery shrugged, because Loras knew her better than anyone, she had nothing to hide from him.

“Then why are you so interested in this?” He wanted to know. “And why do I have to go with you?”

Margaery sighed and turned to him. “I want to do something useful. I want to leave a mark in this new reign.” She put her hands on his shoulders. “And I am giving you the opportunity to help me.”

“How generous, sister.” He chuckled, then dropped a kiss to her forehead. “I will follow you to the ends of the world, Margaery.”

“Good thing I am only asking you to follow me to Minas Tirith.”

***

It was such a long way to Gondor that Margaery started wondering if this was really necessary. Certainly this evil lord wouldn’t think the effort to get to Westeros was worth it, right?

What was that interesting about Westeros anyway?

It was barely standing as it was.

They should arrive ‘soon’ in Minas Tirith, but Margaery realised her concept of ‘soon’ was being seriously challenged by this endeavour.

“Who goes there?” One of her men called.

***

Riddles didn’t make for good directions, Boromir was learning quite fast.

Well, not so fast, since he’d been wandering for three months now.

He was determined to find Rivendell, but his resolve was tested daily, especially after he lost his horse.

As things were… He shouldn’t be surprised to come across someone else out here.

And yet...

He hadn’t thought he’d find a party like this here. The guards were one thing -expected -but not the one ahead of them. “Those are dangerous times for a lady to be around like this.”

The lady in question -a beautiful young woman with catlike eyes -seemed amused by his observation. “Yet I am the one with guards and you are the one alone.”

She wasn’t wrong. If he counted correctly, her escort had around forty men. The one directly to her right was probably her kin, since they looked alike.  “It’s different.” He said politely.

She grinned. “Is that so?” She leaned a bit forward, as if she was humouring him. “Please, explain how.”

He looked around, then cleared his throat. “I meant no offence, my lady.”

“I am sure you did not, Lord Boromir.” She agreed way too easily.

That was when Boromir realised something. He’d never said his name, but she seemed to know him anyway. That was never a good sign. “It seems you have the advantage over me, my lady, for you know of me, but I cannot claim the same.”

She chuckled. “I do enjoy having advantage over men.” She looked over her shoulder. “Someone bring Lord Boromir a horse.” He could see the men hurrying to obey her. What an interesting person…

She told him -eventually -that her name was Margaery Tyrell, and she was from Westeros.

“Westeros?” Boromir was surprised. He’d never met anyone from the place. “But why are you here?”

“To meet your father.”

“You’re on your way to Minas Tirith?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Westeros needs new allies.” She told him easily. “New business. We had a war recently and we will need help to reconstruct.”

On the surface it seemed like a valid reason, and still… “It is quite far.”

“What is distance when there is friendship, Lord Boromir?”

He chuckled. “How did you know my name?” He asked the question that had been bothering him this whole time.

“There was a sketch of you. It was a bit old, but enough to let me recognize your features.”

“That must have been quite a sketch for you to know it was me, despite finding me in the middle of nowhere.”

“You have the same eyes, same nose…” She nodded towards his head. “A few more lines, I’ll admit.”

He felt she wasn’t telling him the whole truth, but if she wanted to hurt him, she could’ve done it any time. He was probably safe.

***

Margaery had been somewhat honest with Boromir. More than she’d have normally been to anyone else.

She was on a -somewhat- diplomatic mission.

She had seen a quite faithful sketch of him.

The only things she hadn’t mentioned were that she was there because a spy had warned them about a possible war, and that -although she hadn’t expected to meet him like this -she knew he was out and about alone.

He admitted he was lost, but also didn’t go into great details about where he was going. It was fine, she knew his destination -assuming said spy had been correct.

Elves. That was the type of being this land had.

Why not?

“What should I know about Gondor, my lord?” Margaery asked later when they’d made camp for the night.

“It is my land, and I love it dearly, my lady.” He told her honestly. “Other than that, I do not know what to tell you. The White City stands like a jewel and it has been the home of my ancestors for a long time. I wish I could describe it in a way that did it justice, but my brother Faramir is the scholar of the family. I am merely a soldier.”

Margaery made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “I find that very hard to believe. You do not strike me as ‘merely’ anything.”

Boromir chuckled. “You are too kind, my lady.”

Loras snorted.

“I heard that, Loras.” Margaery threw at her brother.

Boromir watched them, an amused smile on his lips. “I do find some relief in knowing you have your brother with you. These are dangerous roads.”

“And you have also said these are dangerous times.” She pointed out. “Should I be concerned?”

“You should always be on your guard, Lady Margaery.” Boromir told her honestly. “I do not say these words lightly. Things have been… Difficult.”

Margaery analysed him for a minute. This was a man burdened by his duties. She didn’t get the impression that he resented them; by all accounts Lord Boromir was loyal and brave. However, his life had been a constant struggle to protect his country, while the enemy stood so close. He was tired, and even though he was not hopeless -yet - Margaery felt he was losing faith in a simple solution.

He needed a new hope, something that would remind him what he was fighting for. Perhaps his father's leadership was what was dragging him down. He was faithful to a man that perhaps didn’t deserve -or couldn’t handle -that much.

Of course, these were impressions. Margaery couldn’t claim to know anything about him after so little time. He was also good at keeping things about himself quiet.

“I thank you for the advice, Lord Boromir.” She told him softly. “We will keep it in mind as we travel.”

He nodded solemnly. “Good.”

“But also…” She decided to see if she could make him smile again. He had a nice smile and she didn’t believe he had many chances to show it recently. “I hope you are aware that you are indebted to be now.”

He frowned. “My lady?”

“For the horse and especially the company.” She grinned at him. “I will take payment when you get back to Minas Tirith. I want you to show me what you love about your city.”

He did smile. “I will be happy to do it, my lady.

***

Boromir wasn’t going in the same direction they were, so it was obvious they’d have to part soon.

It still seemed too soon when they finally did.

“We part ways here, Lord Boromir.” Margaery smiled at the man. “It has been a pleasure.”

And it truly had. The two days she spent in his company had been interesting, and Margaery wasn’t the type of woman that used the word lightly.

“The pleasure has been mine, Lady Margaery.” He nodded at her, a perfect lord. “Thank you for the help given.”

“It was no mere charity.” She teased, as she’d been teasing him for the past days. “You should remember that you owe me now.”

He chuckled. “Yes. A visit to the White City.” He repeated the vow he’d made on the first day they met.

“A guided one.” She pushed with a grin.

She could almost hear Loras rolling his eyes.

“As soon as I get back, my lady.” Boromir promised.

“We are in agreement then.”

She watched as he took the horse he’d been given and continued his journey to Rivendell. But she did hope she’d get the chance to see him again.

***

After a way too long journey, Margaery was happy to see the walls that surrounded Minas Tirith, but she wasn’t in the mood to appreciate its beauty.

Especially because now came the hardest part.

Getting there was one thing, but she’d have to use all her wits to actually talk to the Regent.

The guards at the gate demanded to know who they were, since they couldn’t recognize their banner. Once Margaery explained who she was, whom she served and why she was there, she was told to wait.

Her party was escorted to an outpost in the first level of the city and told to wait. A soldier left -likely to warn someone else of their arrival.

At first, they were met with suspicion and caution, but in one hour Loras and Margaery had managed to put them all at ease and were given food and drink. Their horses were taken to a stable and their men were also resting.

Eventually, Lord Faramir arrived to talk to them.

“My Lord.” Margaery curtsied prettily.

“My Lady.” Faramir bowed his head to her and her brother. “I… I was truly surprised by the news of your visit. Was there a missive we missed?”

“Not at all. You will have to forgive us for showing up unannounced like this.” Margaery told him. “We did not know if any correspondence would actually reach you.”

“So you are from Westeros?” Faramir asked carefully.

Margaery passed to him a letter written by Daenerys. “Yes, My Lord. I would like to talk to your father, if possible.” She lowered her eyes. “I do understand if he does not wish to see us, since we came like this. If that is the case, I would ask you to kindly let us rest for a few days before leaving again.”

Margaery hoped she wasn’t overdoing it. She was convinced Loras was trying not to snort at her act.

Lord Faramir looked from the letter in his hand to their faces a few times, before sighing. “I will take you two to my father. He can make the decision.”

***

It took a while to go all the way up to the so-called citadel. It was in the seventh level of the city and it had an impressive view.

Once they reached the courtyard, Marge’s eyes were drawn to the mountains ahead. It was as if there was a shadow covering what came beyond them, a reign of darkness.

She shared a look with Loras, and she knew her brother was thinking the same: Mordor.

There was also a dead white tree in the middle of the courtyard and Marge concluded it was important, even though it looked like that.

She made a note to look into it later.

They were taken into what Faramir called the Tower of Ecthelion. Faramir was quiet as they walked behind him, and Margaery and Loras kept looking at each other.

This place was… Strange. There was something about these cold hallways that chilled Margaery. Perhaps she was being fanciful, but she felt strange there.

They were brought all the way to the throne room, where a white throne sat empty, while a man sat on a black chair on a low dais.

Lord Denethor II was hunched on his chair, his face marred by a serious frown as he watched Faramir bring the two inside the room. He was clearly displeased by their arrival.

Marge saw two people on the corner, watching from a safe distance. One was a young lady -really young -with long black hair, the other was a young man.

“Who are you?” Denethor demanded, bringing Margaery’s attention back to him.

“My Lord.” She bowed low, perfectly graceful. “I am Lady Margaery Tyrell, from Westeros. My Queen, Daenerys Targaryen, has sent me here to discuss a possible alliance between our kingdoms.”

The name captured Denethor’s attention. “Targaryen? From Westeros? I thought they were all dead.”

Faramir passed the letter Margaery had given him to his father.

“Who can truly defeat a dragon, my lord?” Margaery asked.

Denethor didn’t open the letter. His eyes focused on Margaery. “Does she have a dragon?”

Margaery’s smile was perfect. “No, my lord. She has two.”

***

Margaery knew that talking about the dragons was the right choice. Denethor had liked the idea of an ally with dragons.

He hadn’t said that, but Margaery could see the idea forming in his mind. He’d welcomed the two Tyrells and said he’d like to learn more about Westeros.

Margaery thanked him for his hospitality.

Faramir seemed cautious around them, but he introduced them to the other two people there: his cousins Lothíriel and Amrothos.

Margaery had been right about Lothíriel; she was truly young and naive. She became -quickly - Margaery’s best source of information. She was always talking. All the time.

She still didn’t know who was the spy from Westeros, since the person hadn’t revealed himself to her.

After one week there, Margaery sent Sansa a letter, telling her what she’d discovered so far. She told the Queen that there was no need to hurry on her journey to Rohan, as there wasn’t enough information yet.

What Margaery didn’t know was that, while she sat in her room writing her letter, a little mouse had watched her, then read it as it was left to dry.

The little mouse hurried to let her rulers know about the lady from Westeros who was conspiring with a Queen from the North.

Chapter Text

Sansa received Margaery’s message and thought long and hard before coming to a decision.

She called the people she trusted to her side. “I am leaving for Rohan soon.” She declared.

Bran nodded. “It is a good plan.”

Of course that was all he said and Sansa didn’t expect anything else from him.

“Let me go, Sansa.” Jon asked. “This can be dangerous.”

Sansa shook her head. “I would rather do this myself.” She told her cousin. “I know it is dangerous, but we are there to prevent a war, or at least prevent it from getting here. If you go, in a month you will be offering our army or at least vowing to go to war yourself.”

Arya snorted, and Jon looked mildly offended, but he probably knew she was right.

“Should we get soldiers to go with you, Your Grace?” Davos asked from his place.

“I do not want a big group.” She turned to Arya.” Would you like to go?”

Arya arched an eyebrow. “You are really asking me?”

“You said something about fighting orcs, but this will be a boring diplomatic mission. You might not get your wish.”

Arya considered this for a moment. “Either way, I will not let you go alone.”

Sansa didn’t want to be surprised by her sister’s vow, but she was a bit. Their relationship had never been easy, and only now it was mending. Arya had wished to travel after the war was over, but chose to stay for a while longer since the North was still suffering after the battle against the dead.

Sansa had taken many things for granted when she was younger, and the gods hadn’t been kind when they showed her how wrong she’d been. There were too many losses and so much pain in the past, that -most days -Sansa couldn’t even afford to look back.

She’d learned a lot, that was true. However, the cost of her learning was one she wasn’t about to be grateful for. 

The only blessing now was that she could protect her people, and the North was free. She also had family by her side, which was much more than she’d dared to hope for at some point.

“Ser Brienne, Ser Jaime?” She turned to them. “How about an adventure?”

Brienned bowed immediately. “I will go wherever you go, my queen.”

Jaime sighed dramatically. “Well, if I say ‘no’ now, I will look bad.”

Sansa ignored him and looked at Ser Clegane. “You?”

“I cannot let you two out of my sight.” He grumbled, indicating Arya and Sansa with his head.

“My Queen.” Theon took a step forward. “I would go too, if you would have me.”

Sansa smiled at him. “Of course I will have you, Theon.” She turned back to Jon. “As you can see, I have the best the North has to offer to keep me safe.”

“Charmer.” Jaime called from his place.

Jon sighed. “Maybe I should go as well.”

“No. I need you and Bran to stay and take care of the North for me.” She told him firmly. “The work is never done and the people trust you two. I trust both of you.”

Jon sighed once again. “Now I know how you felt when I said I was leaving.”

Her smile was cutting. “I am glad you do. We have a lot to prepare and not so much time. Let us get this done.”

***

“There are no orcs.” Arya grumbled from her horse.

“I have heard they walk only at night.” Jaime called from his horse. “Maybe one of these nights they will sneak in your tent and cut your throat, little wolf.”

Arya snorted. “They would not be able to sneak upon me. But I would let them cut your throat before waking the others up.”

Sansa snorted from her place, but didn’t get in between them. Arya and Jaime had a peculiar relationship, but it worked for them. At least her sister didn’t threaten to kill him anymore -very often- and Sansa considered this a win.

She turned her attention to Sandor, who was riding next to her. “Have you ever travelled to Rohan or Gondor?”

He shook his head. “Never needed to. The only thing I know about Rohan is that they love their horses. They are supposed to be really good horses. King Robert wanted one for himself, but it is a ridiculous idea to get a horse from so far away.”

Sansa nodded her agreement. “I have only heard stories from most of these places. To me, they are as distant as Essos is. And just as fantastical.”

“I used to think the same about dragons and the living dead, and look what that got me.”

Sansa smiled. “Yes, you are right.”

Sandor gave her a look. “Do you really think we can prevent a war here?”

“I have no idea.” She admitted. “To be quite honest, I do not understand exactly what this war is about. Some of it seems like the things you would read in a book; dark lords, vile creatures, magical rings…” She sighed. “If this is a diplomatic matter, maybe it can be solved. However, if it is not…”

Sandor hummed his understanding. “Right. But how long will we stay?”

Sansa understood his concern. They didn’t have an army and it would take a long time to get one here. If they were really on the brink of war, there’d be nothing to do, and Sansa couldn’t afford to be in such a dangerous situation.

“We will see what the people of Rohan have to tell us.” She told him firmly. “Then we might just leave.”

***

Rohan was a country of grassland. It was a green land, with plains sometimes as far as the eye could see. Sansa found the weather pleasing to her.

There weren’t many people or villages around, which made Sansa wonder if they were just distant, or if people were moving because of other difficulties.

When they finally caught sight of Edoras, Sansa thought about how it reminded her of Winterfell for some reason. They were vastly different places -Winterfell was a fortress of stone -but something about Edoras reminded her of the strength of the Northern people. Maybe she was just being fanciful.

She gave Arya a look, and her sister just nodded, before turning her horse around and separating herself from the group.

The rest of them made their way to the gate and asked to be let in. The guard gave them all a hard look and asked from where they hailed, then seemed really confused about their answer.

Once they were let in, Sansa pulled her hood down, revealing her crown. She hadn’t wanted to travel with it, but Jaime had pointed out it might be a good idea to have a firm reminder that she was also a Queen.

A guard asked them to follow him.

“Is it me…” Jaime murmured to Brienne, “or is this place very…”

“Sombre?” She offered.

“Yes.”

"It is not you.”

They were taken to stone steps that led to the King’s Hall. Sandor dismounted from his horse and helped Sansa next. The guard said that their horses would be taken care of, and that they should talk to a man named Háma before being allowed to enter.

Sansa climbed the steps with the others behind her, and was greeted by a man in armour.

“And who would you be?” He asked her as soon as she climbed the last steps.

“I am Queen Sansa Stark from the North.” She told him. “I seek an audience with your King.”

“North?” He seemed confused.

“We have recently become independent from Westeros, if that helps.”

The man’s eyebrows almost hit his hairline. “Westeros? You are a long way from home, Your Majesty.”

“It’s ‘Your Grace’, mate.” Sandor growled at him.

Sansa made a calming gesture to Sandor. “No harm done, Ser Clegane.” She gave the man in front of her a smile. “Is that a problem, lord…?”

“Háma, Your Ma… Your Grace.” He cleared his throat. “You cannot enter to see the king with your weapons.”

“Of course.” She turned to her people. “You heard him.”

Jaime seemed ready to say something about it, but a look from Sansa and he changed his mind. “Careful with that sword.” He told the man who took Oathkeeper from Brienne.

The man snorted and promptly ignored him.

Sansa was finally allowed to enter the hall. It was a large place, with its walls covered in beautifully woven tapestries. It was cold in there, even colder than outside. It was also dark, despite the day being bright outside. The hall felt suffocating despite its temperature, like the air was stagnat there.

On the throne sat the king. Sansa tried to remember how old he was supposed to be, since he seemed ancient.

He was old, so very old. Covered in furs, bending over as if there was a great weight on his shoulders. If someone told Sansa he was just a ghost, she’d believe it, because he seemed more spectre than man.

At his right there was a greasy fellow, sitting on a chair, very close to the King. As soon as his eyes took Sansa, he leaned and whispered in the King’s ear.

There were two other people that grabbed Sansa’s attention, since they were a bit behind the King’s throne. One was a young woman with pale hair, and next to her a tall man with a scary frown.

“Hail, Théoden King.” Sansa called as she approached. “It is an honour to be in front of such a king as yourself.”

“Sansa Stark.” The king’s voice was weak, distant. “I did not know there was a queen in the North.”

She could feel Brienne and Theon seething from his neglect to call her Queen. “It is a recent development, sir. It does not surprise me it has not reached Rohan.”

The black haired man once again leaned close to the King to whisper.

Interesting.

“And what does such a young queen want from us?” Théoden asked, his voice seeming even weaker than before.

“Friendship, sir.”

“Why should we become friends with the North, Queen Sansa?” The man in black finally chose to speak from himself, instead of feeding his words to the King.

“And who would you be?” She questioned, her tone icy.

The man bowed -clearly unhappy. “Gríma Wormtongue, Your Majesty. The king’s chief advisor.”

Sansa nodded her understanding. “The new Queen of Westeros is right now seeking a friendship with Gondor.” She informed the man. “As she seeks new allies, so do I. You never know when you may need them.”

Gríma studied her for a minute longer, then his eyes moved to those behind her. “Are these your people, my lady?”

“Yes, they are.”

His eyes were calculating. “Have you brought more people? We would need to accommodate them.”

“No, I have not. I brought just those I trust to keep me safe during the journey. This is merely a diplomatic trip.”

“It is curious that we seem to be receiving a lot of those now.” He commented. “Queen Susan from Narnia is also coming to Edoras. But she wrote a letter.”

Sansa saw from the corner of her eyes Sandor’s hand clenching. He wasn’t happy with the way this man was talking to her and it showed.

Sansa didn’t know about that. Why was the Queen of Narnia on her way to Edoras?

She knew less about Narnia than she did about Rohan, most of it was legends and tales. Therefore she couldn’t even guess what Queen Susan was after, or if her decision to come here was also related to the possible war.

“You know what they say about Narnians…” She said anyway. “They are all polite and proper, until they start shoving stories about magical lions down your throat.”

***

Éomer watched in silence as Gríma whispered venomously by his uncle’s ear. Éowyn -standing next to him -was so tense, it looked as if her body was about to break. Her eyes were on the woman with red hair.

Queen in the North.

Éomer didn’t like this, and didn't trust her at all. Her guards seemed more like hired-swords -especially the big one with the scar -and her words all seemed covered in a veil of deceit.

As if she said all of them in a way that would allow her to retract them as soon as possible.

“Éowyn.” He called softly to his sister. She just nodded to show him she was listening. “I have to leave. I need to find Théodred. Keep an eye on her.”

His sister just nodded again.

***

Sansa disliked Gríma on sight and she didn’t trust him at all.

Lord Éomer, the King’s nephew, had left before she could even be introduced to him. From what she heard, he hated Gríma with a passion, but was loyal to his uncle and country.

Sansa wished she’d had time to talk to him, because things were complicated in Rohan. People were unwilling to talk, and it was difficult to say if it was out of loyalty or fear.

The only person left to talk to was Lady Éowyn, the king’s niece and Éomer’s sister. However, she’d also been avoiding Sansa, which the Queen felt was quite telling.

Sansa had seen the way Gríma had watched Éowyn during dinner. It reminded her of Baelish and it made her skin crawl.

The Queen looked for the lady everywhere, until she finally found her, a sword in hand.

Éowyn seemed scared for a minute, surprised to be caught with it.

“That is a fine sword, Lady Éowyn.” Sansa told her easily. “Do you fight?”

The woman pressed her lips together, before giving Sansa her back. “You would not understand.” Éowyn said firmly as she put the sword away.

From what Sansa had understood, she likely did it to protect herself. Lady Éowyn probably didn’t want Gríma knowing about the sword she kept. Sansa had found her with it by pure luck.

She’d arrived the day before and had managed to talk to Gríma and figure some things out. He was controlling the country by controlling the King. She just didn’t know how.

Yet.

Arya hadn’t entered the city with her. She was walking around, trying to find information. Jaime was doing the same, but he wasn’t incognito like her sister. He was being his natural charming -but annoying -self. Theon and Brienne were sticking to her side, but it’d been Sandor -obviously -who’d bothered Gríma at first.

Then Sansa made the man believe Sandor was a hired sword and possibly her lover, and he let go of the subject.

Lady Éowyn clearly despised Gríma, but Sansa didn’t know if that made her an ally. She didn’t look like the ambitious type -as if she’d been coveting her uncle’s crown from behind the scenes -but it was always good to be careful.

“I would not understand?” Sansa spoke dryly. “Because I do not fight in battle?” Éowyn didn’t answer the question, and that was telling enough. “You are correct; I do not want to fight that way.”

Sansa wondered if Éowyn thought she was weak because of that. Not that she particularly cared. “But I do want to protect my people.” She continued. “Caring for them is a job without glory, but someone has to do it.”

Éowyn turned to her, a careful look in her eyes. “So no, I do not understand your desire for battle, but I can respect it. I just wish you would respect my choice to stay away from it.”

“It is not that.” Éowyn protested. “It is just hard not having a choice, having to do what is expected of you just because…”

“You were born a woman?” Sansa offered. “Because there are expectations that were thrown at you, and nobody ever bothered to ask you if you wanted them or not? Or maybe at some point you thought that was exactly what you wanted, but one day it was just not enough anymore, but you were still trapped under them?”

Éowyn was looking at her, somewhat startled.

“Trust me, Lady Éowyn, I know very well about the cages that trap women in this world.” Sansa told her. “I was in one for a long time.”

“And now you are free?”

“Duty is also a cage.” Sansa admitted. “However, this is the one I chose for myself. If I have to live for something, let it be my country and my family.” She gave Éowyn one last look. “If that is your choice, do it by sword or crown, but do not let anyone tell you that you cannot do it.”

***

Sansa had written a letter to Margaery as soon as she’d arrived in Edoras, letting her know about Queen Susan. 

Margaery’s letter said that the Queen’s siblings were already in Gondor, and by the time it arrived in Edoras, so had Queen Susan.

“I am sure you can be friends.” The letter said. “It would be better if it was one of her brothers, but you never know. She might have something in common with you.”

Sansa scoffed, thinking of the Queen she’d met days ago. “I do not think so.”

Chapter Text

Lucy enjoyed being in the sea greatly. The open expanse, the horizon always out of reach.

When she put herself in the front of the ship and felt the wind on her face, she imagined it was like flying.

Susan wasn’t much for ships, and Edmund was Edmund-which meant he liked acting as if he was above such concerns.

Once they received a missive talking about a woman from Westeros in Minas Tirith, the Pevensies had planned on leaving as soon as possible to Gondor and Rohan.

However, as Peter would be alone for the foreseeable future, they couldn’t just leave him to fend for himself. Between all the preparations necessary -and a storm that made leaving the shores impossible -it took longer than Susan would’ve wanted for them to leave.

Lucy didn’t know what was wrong with her sister, but she was clearly worried about something. Lucy wished she’d share her concerns, but Susan -on occasion -prefered to keep her thoughts to herself.

It was quite infuriating at times.

Once their ship reached the harbour, there were people waiting for them.

“Your Majesties.” An older man, with silver grey hair, bowed to them in respect. “I’m Prince Imrahil from Dol Amroth. It is a pleasure to meet you all.”

“Your Highness.” Lucy smiled at him. “How kind of you to receive us here.”

The prince cleared his throat, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Lord Denethor thought you would appreciate a reception.”

Susan and Edmund shared a look.

“How very… Kind of him.” Lucy said, her smile firmly in place.

“We shall escort you to Minas Tirith.” The Prince informed them.

Susan had to curb her desire to roll her eyes. “I wish you all a great journey then.”

“You are not coming, Your Majesty?” He asked carefully.

“I am actually on my way to Rohan, my lord.”

“Oh.” Prince Imrahil gave them a pleasing smile, one that clearly meant he had no idea about this, and was trying to figure out how to react. “If I may be so bold, madam.” He started. “Do you know these roads?”

What a curious question. “I cannot say I do, my lord.” Susan admitted.

“There are passages that are not safe to travel, especially for one that does not know them well.” He indicated. “If you come part of the way with us to Minas Tirith, it will be a longer way, but it will also be safer.”

Susan shared a silent look with Edmund.

“Unless, you are concerned about time.” The prince prodded.

“Not at all.” Susan gave him a polite smile. “I shall take your advice.”

***

Lucy thought Prince Imrahil to be a very interesting man.

He was the brother-in-law of the regent, and had told them -during the journey -that his daughter and one of his sons were living in Minas Tirith with their uncle. Lucy noticed quite fast that he was a good man, and that his soldiers were loyal to him exactly because of that.

She also noticed that there was some tension every time the name of the regent was mentioned. She could see her siblings noticing the same thing. What she didn’t know -yet- was the cause of such tension.

Did the prince dislike the Regent? Were they at odds? Was there something else at work?

Lucy was careful with the questions she asked, and the subjects she pushed. She didn’t want Imrahil to be wary of her -more than he already was. They knew the prince suspected they were planning something, but he hadn’t asked, so they continued to say this was a diplomatic visit.

It wasn’t a lie.

They weren’t there to spy or tell anyone how to rule their countries. They were there in hopes that they could prevent a war.

Yes, they had their own interests in preventing said war, but it didn’t mean they intended to scheme or undermine anyone’s authority.

They just wished to understand and help.

Lord Imrahil’s second son -Lord Erchirion -was also travelling with them, and he seemed beyond fascinated by the Narnians. He was constantly talking to the centaurs and fauns, and -most particularly -with Sir Reepicheep.

“A rapier.” Erchirion repeated as he analysed the blade. “I have never seen something so interesting.”

“It is a good sword, my lord.” Reep told him. “Good for fast strikes.”

“I will take your word for it.” Erchirion chuckled.

A few days before they reached Minas Tirith, Prince Imrahil asked his son to accompany Queen Susan until they entered Rohan.

Sir Reepicheep decided to follow the Gentle Queen and so the siblings parted.

Once they finally reached Minas Tirith, Lucy was in awe of the city. It was like nothing she’d ever seen.

“It is so white it hurts the eyes.” Edmund grumbled from her side and she elbowed his stomach.

They were escorted all the way to the highest level of the city. Most of their people had to stay behind, but Imrahil assured them they’d be fine.

Lucy wasn’t happy about any of this, and neither was Edmund. This all felt strange, like they weren’t welcome for whatever reason.

They were taken to meet the Regent; Lord Denethor was sitting on a chair, not a throne.

Behind him, Lucy could see four people. One of the men was clearly Imrahil’s son -he looked just like his father -and the girl with black hair had to be his daughter.

Which made the other two the people from Westeros, she was convinced.

“Lord Denethor.”

The man got up. “Queen Lucy, the Valiant, and King Edmund, the Just.” He said, his bow seeming like an afterthought. “Welcome to Minas Tirith.”

“It is very kind of you to receive us, my lord.” Lucy smiled at him.

Denethor grunted some reply, and turned to Imrahil. “How was the journey?”

“No problems, my lord.” Imrahil told him simply.

“There is someone I would like to introduce you to.” Denethor extended his hand and the -absolutely gorgeous -woman from Westeros came to him without another word being needed.

She delicately placed her hand on the Regent’s, the curtsied to them. “Your Majesties. It is a great honour to meet you. I am Lady Margaery Tyrell from Westeros.” She turned her eyes to Imrahil. “My prince. I have met your children, and they give you and your family credit.”

She was good. Not only was she beautiful and well dressed (that dress was quite daring), but she’d also managed to be perfectly charming to all of them; and do it all holding the hand of the Regent.

Lucy knew she would be a problem.

***

After they excused themselves and were taken to their rooms, Lucy gave Edmund a sign; they needed to talk.

She was leaving her room to talk to him, when she came across a man.

“Your Majesty.” His voice was soft and pleasant, and there was something appealing about his face and smile. “I am Faramir, Lord Denethor’s son.”

“My lord. It is a pleasure to meet you.” She felt her words were more honest this time. “Did I miss you when we were greeting your father?”

His eyes went to the ground and his shoulders slumped. “I was not told about the meeting.” He cleared his throat. “But I hope you have everything you need.”

“We do.” What was wrong with this place? “It is kind of you to worry about us.”

“If you need anything, please, let me know.”

“I shall.”

He stood there, looking down at her, but not saying another word. Lucy kept a smile on her face, because she knew there was something else he wanted to say, but just couldn’t put into words. She’d give him a chance.

“I would not wish to take more of your time…”

“Lord Faramir, please. You have received us in your home. If there is anything you would like to ask…” She let the sentence trail off.

“I have always heard tales about Narnia.” He spoke up carefully. “I just… Would you indulge me some time? Tell me about it? Your Majesty?” He cleared his throat.

“It would be a pleasure, my lord.”

***

“That woman is good.” Edmund said as soon as Lucy mentioned Margaery’s name. “She strikes me as someone who can get whatever she wants from a man.”

“That is what I feared.” Lucy sighed. “The thing is… What do you think she wants?”

“Yes… That is the problem.”

***

Lucy and Edmund were invited for dinner with the Regent and his family. Prince Imrahil was still there. He’d remain for another week in Minas Tirith and then return to Dol Amroth.

During dinner, it was clear he wanted to bring his children back home, but Lord Denethor wouldn’t hear of it. According to him, he needed Amrothos and Lothíriel there.

For some reason.

Margaery Tyrell kept the conversation light and easy the rest of the moments. Her brother, Loras, was also exceedingly good at doing so. They told stories, asked questions and just made everyone at ease.

It bothered Lucy deeply that she didn’t know what this woman wanted. She kept Denethor distracted throughout the dinner; times when it seemed he’d snap at Imrahil or Faramir for no reason, she’d redirect his attention.

It would be a good thing, if Lucy wasn’t convinced Margaery was just starting.

***

When Imrahil left, he took Amrothos and Lothíriel with him.

Lady Tyrell convinced Lord Denethor to allow it.

The Prince was beyond thankful to Lady Tyrell, and Lucy finally realised just how much power she had over the Regent.

***

The door to Margaery’s chambers was opened by a maid, who announced Queen Lucy would like to talk to her.

Margaery stood up to greet the Queen, then offered her tea. Lucy sat down and the lady had to hold in a grin.

Margaery was mildly amused by Queen Lucy. The younger woman had been trying to hound her for days, and now Margaery had finally allowed herself to be caught.

“So what exactly are you doing here?” The queen demanded without any preamble.

Margaery put her cup down. “Me? Well, I have heard the city is absolutely lovely this time of the year, and I was terribly bored.” She leaned back on her chair.

Lucy obviously didn’t buy it for a second. “Is that why you have been keeping Lord Denethor company?” She accused Margaery. “Because you are bored?”

“Hardly that.” Margaery made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “He is quite the interesting man.”

Lucy gasped. “He has lost his mind.” She pointed out.

Margaery smacked her lips. “Perhaps we can help him find it again.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes. “What game are you playing?”

Margaery smirked at the younger woman. “The same as you, Queen Lucy. I just choose which rules I wish to follow.”

Lucy wasn’t convinced. “Are you here because of the war?”

“I am here because My Queen has asked me to be here.” It was all Lucy would get from her at this point.

***

Edmund cleared his throat for the second time in five minutes.

Lucy had entered Margaery’s chamber, and Edmund decided to stay outside and wait for her. Loras -the brother -was also there, apparently guarding the door.

He seemed amused for no reason, and he was making Edmund uncomfortable.

“Would you like tea for your throat, Your Majesty?” Loras offered suddenly.

“I am fine.” Edmund said, then immediately cleared his throat again.

He could see Loras smirking from the corner of his eyes.

“Is being this serious a family trait?” Loras asked. “You have quite a frown.”

“I beg your pardon?” Edmund turned to him, agape.

“I am just saying, My King…” Loras gave him a sly look. “I am curious to see what a smile would do to your face.”

Edmund had to turn his head to the other side, because he was pretty sure he was flushed.

Chapter Text

Lord Erchirion -as promised -followed the second Narnian group until they reached Rohan. Well, he claimed it was the border between Rohan and Gondor.

He gave Susan a map that should guide them the rest of the way to Edoras.

“Your Majesty, if I may…” He seemed uncertain for a minute. “Please, be careful. There are many rumours about unrest in Rohan. Orcs attacking people as they see fit.”

Susan nodded at him. “Thank you for your warning, my lord. We will keep our eyes wide open.”

Erchirion seemed like he wanted to say something else, but chose not to. He turned to Reep, who’d been riding with the Queen. “My lord, it has been a pleasure.” He nodded at the mouse.

“The pleasure has been mine, sir!” Reep bowed charmingly. “I hope we meet again.”

Erchirion smiled at him. “So do I.”

Parting from Lord Erchirion gave Susan the opportunity to finally discuss with the other Narnians about her concerns.

“What should we do, my Queen?” Oreius asked Susan. “Do you think it is safe to continue?”

“At this point we have no choice. I will not turn back.” Susan couldn’t explain to them, but she felt she was getting closer to something.

“We can keep moving, but we have to be careful.” Asterius grumbled. “We need sentinels every time we camp.”

Susan nodded her agreement. “I want all of you to be careful. This is not a place where we can hope for the best.”

“My Queen.” Reep called. “What about Queen Lucy and King Edmund?”

“Yes… I do not like how we were received and escorted.” She admitted. “However, we are strangers that made contact for the first time out of nowhere.” She conceded. “Still, I will write to her as soon as we get to Edoras. Helga.” She turned to her advisor. “Get one of the falcons to go with you. Scout ahead.”

The leopard nodded her head. “Yes, My Queen.”

***

They were on the road for some days, when Byron -one of the falcons -came flying at her. “My Queen! There is a group of riders coming straight at us.”

“Human?”

“Yes.” He confirmed. “They carry the banner of the land.”

Susan sighed. “Let us see what they tell us.” She dismounted from her horse and turned to her people. “All of you, pull your hoods for a bit.” She asked. “And Jared.” She gave her horse a look. “Do not be a know-it-all.”

The horse snorted but agreed.

It wasn’t long before they could see the group of men coming in their direction. They were clearly interested in getting to the Narnians, so Susan just waited. She then watched as the éored circled her small party and pointed weapons at them. Her people lowered their heads because it would be difficult to explain fauns and talking animals to men of the Mark.

One of the riders talked to them. “Who are you?” He demanded.

Susan pushed her hood back. “Easy, Rider of Rohan. We are not enemies.”

He scoffed. “Yet you carry weapons.”

Susan held on to her diplomacy. “Those are difficult times and, can I point out you have over three hundred men behind you?”

“Would it be easier for you if I were alone?” He hissed at her.

What was wrong with this man? “Has anyone ever told you you are paranoid?”

He glared at her. “How often has your life been threatened, My Lady?”

“Often enough.” That was it. Diplomacy could take a rest. “And it is ‘Your Majesty’, rider.”

“Majesty?” He snorted. “And what place do you call home?”

“Narnia.” She told him simply.

“What is a Queen of Narnia doing so far from her land?” He wanted to know.

Susan arched an eyebrow at him. “Apparently, I am being interrogated.”

“What would you have me do?” He demanded. “Just accept strangers in our land?”

One of her people gasped in outrage at his tone, but Susan just tipped her head back. “You could get off that high horse of yours and talk to me.”

He gave her an incredulous look, but finally decided to dismount his horse. He took off his helmet, and Susan saw herself being pinned down by a pair of angry brown eyes. “Are you supposed to be the Gentle Queen?” He asked, showing that he knew a bit about Narnia.

“Trust me, Rider.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “If I give up on being gentle, you will be the first to know.”

He pressed his lips together, and Susan took the moment to take a deep breath in. “I do not want us to misunderstand each other.” She told him politely. “I am here as a possible friend. Would you give me your name, Rider?”

He gave her a sideways look, before he apparently remembered his manners. “Éomer, son of Éomund, Third Marshal of the Mark.” He bowed his head. “I apologise for my manners, Your Majesty.”

“No harm done.” She spoke, as she watched his men putting their spears down. “As I said, I am Queen Susan, from Narnia. I have come to visit.”

“I know. We have received your letter.” He said, revealing that his use of her title wasn’t a guess. His eyes still held some mistrust as he looked at her. “Are you on your way to Edoras?”

“Yes. These are my people.” She indicated the Narnians around her, and she could see the moment he finally noticed the centaurs.

“Are those…”

“Yes.” Susan gave him a polite smile. “Now, if you know about the letter, you were at Edoras when it arrived.”

“I am…” He had to pull his eyes away from the centaurs. “I am the King’s nephew.”

“I see. I think we should talk.”

***

Lord Éomer accepted Susan’s request for a talk, and his men prepared to set camp. Susan introduced him to her people. If she thought he was shocked by the centaurs before, there were no words to describe him finding out her horse could speak.

She let him have a few minutes to absorb all of this. She could see his men were also eyeing the other Narnias, and she wondered when they’d have the courage to just approach them and talk.

Finally he came to talk to her, and Susan introduced him to those closest to her on this journey.

“You wished to talk, Your Majesty.” He prompted her.

“Yes.” Susan had thought carefully about what she’d say now. “Am I correct in assuming you love your country, Lord Éomer?”

“Yes.” He replied immediately.

“And I suppose that this brewing darkness concerns you.”

“More so each day.” He looked at her in silence. “Is that why you are here?”

She nodded. “We have heard rumours of a Dark Lord gaining strength. I will admit I do not know the details of what ails this land, but we do know it is not only here. Gondor seems to be suffering as well, which means the enemy is powerful.”

“You seem to know a great deal, my lady.” Éomer said, and Susan could hear the accusation in his voice.

“I do.” She admitted. “My siblings are now in Gondor, trying to form an alliance with them, like I am here for. We want to help you prevent a war.”

Éomer scoffed. “We cannot prevent it, Queen Susan. War is imminent."

Susan sighed sadly. “I know you have no reason to trust me, my lord, but can you explain to me what is happening here?”

For a minute, she’d thought he wouldn’t. It didn’t seem like he wanted to tell her, probably out of loyalty to his country. She was a stranger and he didn’t know her true intentions.

Eventually he decided to tell her some things. It was obvious he was keeping parts of it to himself -probably the ones more closely related to the state of affairs in Rohan. However, what he told her gave Susan a partial scenario of what they were facing.

Orcs. Saruman. A possible betrayal.

He didn’t talk about his uncle, and Susan could see it pained him. Éomer briefly mentioned the King’s health was weak, but he also didn’t explain how.

“And you are not our only visitor. Queen Sansa from the North is here as well.”

“The North?”

“She said they are now independent from Westeros. She also said that a woman called Dragon Queen is seeking an alliance with Gondor, and that is why she is here.”

That wasn’t good. “Do you think she is trying to get allies against another Queen?” Susan asked, frowning.

“There is something about her…” Éomer snorted. “I do not trust her.”

Susan hummed her understanding. “Did she bring an army?”

“No. She brought a few people. Even less than you did.”

Susan didn’t want to make assumptions about Queen Sansa, but it was quite hard at this point.

“Only time can show us if someone is trustworthy or not.” Susan spoke softly. “Therefore, my lord, I hope time can show you that I am. I have no ill intentions towards your land.”

Éomer shook his head. “You should leave. This is not your land, this is not your battle. Go back to your people.”

Susan sighed. “Thank you for your concern, Lord Éomer, but I am exactly where I am meant to be.”

***

Susan knew -instinctively - that Lord Éomer wasn’t inclined to trust her. It went a bit beyond the fact they were strangers; he seemed determined to be wary of her.

He wasn’t extending the same courtesy to most of her people, though. He’d spent a long time talking to Jared -her horse -and the centaurs -especially Oreius.

Susan hadn’t interfered because she imagined that, if anyone could convince him of their good intentions, it would be her people.

It was quite later -when she was considering going to sleep -when he came and took a seat next to her.

“How was your talk with the others?” She asked politely.

“It was…” He shook his head, amazement clear in his expression. “It was like nothing I had ever thought I would see. The stories, the magic… This place must pale in comparison, and I cannot believe I am saying this about my country.”

Susan chuckled. “There are different types of magic and beauty out there, Lord Éomer. The Mark has plenty of both.

This time he was smiling when he looked at her. “You are very diplomatic, my lady.”

“I have been known to be stubborn sometimes.”

He sighed. “So have I. I apologise for how I treated you earlier.” He told her, and this time he sounded more honest about his apology.

“I understand the fear that grips you.” She told him, because it was the truth. “The inevitability of a battle, the fear of a war… Those things can eat away our trust, burden our shoulders. A man like you, a leader, has even more to worry about. There are no hard feelings.” She grinned at him. “But I admire your new found manners.”

He snorted, but kept on smiling.

It took Susan a while to realise they were looking at each other in absolute silence. She could almost believe Éomer was looking at her in distrust, if it wasn’t for the unguarded expression on his face.

She turned her face and cleared her throat. Susan could feel a blush coming on for whatever reason and she just hoped he couldn’t see it. “I should rest. We still have a long way to go.”

“Yes.” Éomer stood up. “I am sorry for keeping you, Your Majesty.” He bowed and left before she could say anything else.

And deep down Susan felt grateful, because she didn’t know what she would’ve said.

***

Éomer and his men left the next morning in a different direction and Susan continued on her way to Edoras. It was quite close now.

Eventually they could see the Golden Hall from afar, the city itself so close.

“My Queen?” Jared called when Susan didn’t make any motion to move. “Is everything alright?”

There was something…

“I need a minute.” Susan said.

She had chased a feeling all the way to Rohan. A dream about horses and fire, and it had served her well. She felt she was in the right place, there was something to be done there and it was the time.

Maybe her part in all of this was small, maybe it was just a small wave, but she had to be there.

But…

She turned to Asterius. “Asterius, I need you to do something for me.”

The minotaur nodded immediately. “Yes, My Queen.”

“Take ten others with you and go back to Gondor, to Queen Lucy and King Edmund.”

“My lady?” He was confused.

“I cannot explain it.” She sighed, somewhat frustrated. “I just feel this is what you have to do. Please.”

Asterius exchanged a look with Oreius, but then nodded again. “I will leave now, my queen.”

“And take this.” She took off her ring to pass to him.

“I cannot take this…”

“Take it.” Susan insisted.

Before they’d parted, Lucy had passed the ring to Susan. It contained a single drop of her cordial, and she’d given it to Susan to use in an emergency.

“My lady…” Asterius started. “You cannot give me this. If something happens to you…”

“Take this.” She insisted once again, this time her voice showing this wasn’t a request. “Use it when the right time comes. I have faith you will know when that is.”

Asterius didn’t seem convinced -or happy with his orders -however he trusted his Queen. He nodded, chose ten other companions and left.

***

Susan hadn’t expected a warm welcome, but she certainly had thought it’d be this bad.

People entered their houses as soon as they saw the Narnians walking down the streets. Doors were unceremoniously closed in their faces, as Susan made her way to the steps that led to the Golden Hall.

The man who received them by the door seemed unsure of what to do. He’d asked for their weapons, but then he looked at Helga -a leopard full of teeth-, then at Oreius -a centaur who was far taller than him- and probably realised it might not make a difference if they gave up their weapons or not.

Either way, Susan ordered her people to comply, but only a few of them entered behind her.

The first thing that hit her inside the hall was the smell. It smelt like decay, but she couldn’t point out where it came from.

The King was sitting on his throne, like a ghost with a dark shadow by his side.

Éomer had told her to be wary of Gríma.

“Hail, Théoden King.” Susan bowed her head to the man. “It is an honour to meet you.”

“Queen Susan of Narnia.” She barely heard his reply, his eyes didn’t move from the ground, he hardly moved.

Susan saw a young woman a bit behind the King, but she didn’t know who that was. Only then, she noticed in her peripheral vision another group of people. She wouldn’t move her head to look at them immediately, but she was convinced those were the people from Westeros. Or the North, or whatever they called themselves now.

She waited for the King to say something else, but it soon became clear it wouldn’t help. The man in black -Gríma - approached the King from the side and whispered by his ear, and Théoden just nodded.

“You honour us with your visit, Your Majesty.” Gríma finally said. He bowed to her, then introduced himself. “I hope your journey was uneventful.”

“It was, Lord Gríma.”

“You are probably tired. A maid will take you to your chambers so you can rest before the next meal.”

That seemed too easy.  

***

Susan was on her way to the hall for dinner, when she came face to face with Queen Sansa Stark. She had only two people behind her; a tall woman and a man.

“Queen Susan.”

“Queen Sansa.” The two Queens locked gazes.

Jaime, who was behind Sansa, found all this frost in the air amusing. He didn’t think the Narnians felt quite the same.

“What a surprise.” Susan continued. “I had heard you do not leave Winterfell that often.”

Sansa’s smile had an edge of ice. “Funny we should meet so far from our homes, is it not?”

Rohan probably wasn’t expecting two Queens of such power to visit and to stay there at times like these. 

“I find it less funny and more… Concerning.” Susan finally said.

Sansa nodded. “Those are dark times after all.”

“They are indeed.” Susan arched an eyebrow at the other woman. “But what brings you to Rohan?”

“The same as you, I would guess.”

Susan seemed surprised by the news. “So you will also fight this war.” It wasn’t a question, but Sansa knew she wasn’t convinced.

“What is one more at this point?”

Chapter Text

Éowyn would sometimes dream. She dreamed about many things: freedom, glory, peace… She dreamed about going back to simpler days, when she believed she’d always be happy.

As the days grew darker and more suffocating, she felt a hopelessness that both scared and depressed her.

Her uncle’s health was deteriorating fast, Éomer and Théodred were always away -fighting to defend the Mark -and at Edoras...

There were few places where Éowyn could find peace. She felt as if Gríma followed her every step and she was even more firmly stuck in a cage. It was like her feet were sinking in mud and she couldn’t run or save herself.

Picking herbs outside the walls of the city was one of the few activities she could do alone. She could run away from here, but… What about her uncle? She couldn’t leave him alone.

She was getting ready to get back inside when she saw the boy and the man on the horse.

“HELP!” The boy called as soon as he saw her. “HE IS HURT!”

Éowyn picked her skirts up and hurried towards them. The man had passed out behind the boy, his weight resting on him. “What are you two doing out here like this?” Éowyn asked, looking around, concerned about what could be hunting those two.

“Please!” The boy cried instead of answering. “You have to save him!”

Éowyn took a deep breath in. “Calm down, child. You need to tell me exactly what happened.”

There were many tears falling down the young boy’s face and Éowyn could see he was just a scared child. “He fought so many of them. It’s because of me. If I hadn’t…”

Éowyn had to cut his tirade. “No tears. Tears won’t help now.” She told him firmly but not unkindly. “We can shed them later, after we take care of your friend, right?”

The boy took a deep breath, then nodded. “Yes.”

Éowyn sighed in relief. “What’s your name?”

“Squirrel.”

“Hello, Squirrel. I’m Éowyn.”

Now… How was she going to get them both inside the city? Gríma had eyes everywhere, and he wouldn’t just allow outsiders inside Edoras. It left a bitter taste in Éowyn’s mouth acknowledging this fact, but this wasn’t the time to look upon things with anything but honesty.

“Come with me.” She pulled at the horse’s reins and guided them closer to the walls of the city.

“I need you to wait here for a bit.” She told the boy, once he was down from the horse. “Can you do that? I need to find a way to get you somewhere safe.”

He nodded immediately.

“All will be well.” She told him, hoping it wasn’t an empty promise. “Wait here.”

There weren’t many who were willing to openly defy Gríma these days -even those who believed he was controlling the King somehow. However, Éowyn was well loved and respected by the people, and she knew exactly who she could trust in a situation like this.

Léoith was an old woman who worked at the palace for a long time, until her knees started troubling her. She despised Gríma with a passion and constantly offered a helping hand to Éowyn.

The young lady didn’t have much time to explain what was the problem, but Léoith waved away her concern and ordered her older grandsons to go and help her bring the people to her house.

They got a cart and went outside. Squirrel and his friend were smuggled in and taken to the house.

“He’s in bad shape.” Léoith commented upon getting a proper look at the young man.

“Please, help him!” The boy asked once again. “This is my fault! If I hadn’t…”

“Hush, child.” Léoith shushed him. “Go wait outside.”

Squirrel seemed reluctant, but was eventually convinced that they could treat his friend -Lancelot, the boy said was his name -better if he didn’t distract them.

Léoith got Derngar to help them. He was as ancient as she was, but he’d been a healer for a long time. He had to stop working because his eyes weren’t as good as before, but between all of them, they’d have to figure something out.

Lancelot was truly hurt. There were many wounds, and some of them were infected. He had a fever and had lost a lot of blood. It was clear that, at some point, the boy had tried to care for his wounds, but didn’t have the necessary supplies.

They did the best they could, but Derngar wasn’t feeling hopeful. He said it really depended on how strong Lancelot was, and that they would keep a close eye on him, but…

Things didn’t look promising.

Éowyn could only think of the boy.

Léoith’s daughter told Éowyn she’d fed the boy and he was sleeping, clearly exhausted.

“Has he told you where he’s from?” Éowyn asked.

“No. It was really hard to get him to even sit to eat; he was so worried about his friend. Kept saying it was his fault.”

“They aren’t from here.” Éowyn could see this much.

“Do you think they’re from Gondor? Maybe Dunlendings?”

“I don’t think so.” Éowyn sighed. “I’ll be back here early tomorrow. If there’s any problem, let me know.”

***

Éowyn sneaked back into the palace, since it was late and her dress was covered in blood. Léoith had lent her a cloak, and she could hide behind it, but if anyone saw it, she’d have to explain what had happened.

She was almost at her chambers, when Gríma’s voice made her halt. “A late stroll, my lady?”

Éowyn took a deep breath in before turning. “I wished for some quiet.”

Gríma took a few steps closer. “You’ve been out most of the day.”

Éowyn raised her chin, unwilling to let him interrogate her inside her uncle’s hall. “I did not know I needed permission to go on walks.”

“I just worry about you, my lady.” Gríma told her, his voice deceptively soft. “So many dangers outside these walls… And we have a Queen coming to visit soon. Your uncle will need your help to receive the guest.”

She despised when Gríma used her uncle to make her feel guilty. She’d been acting like the lady of the keep for a long while now, and she knew her obligations. She didn’t need a man like Gríma to remind her.

“My uncle has nothing to worry about.”

***

Éowyn couldn’t go and check on the guests in the next morning. Everywhere she went she felt as if there were eyes following her.

It made her angry to feel this trapped inside her uncle’s house, but she had no choice. If she went to Léoith’s house now, Gríma’s men would find Squirrel and Lancelot.

Therefore, she took care of her duties, as she prepared a chamber for the Queen of Narnia, who should be there soon.

On the following morning she managed to sneak out. She wouldn’t be able to spend much time at Léoith’s, but she could check on the patient and the boy.

“He’s still alive.” Léoith said as a greeting. “The boy is a fighter.”

Éowyn sighed in relief. “How about Squirrel?”

“You mean Little Percival?” The older woman snorted. “That one is a hard nut to crack.”

Éowyn found Squirrel -Percival? -by Lancelot’s bad, veiling the man’s sleep. “Hello, Squirrel.”

“Lady Éowyn.” He got up quickly and presented this awkward bow to her. “Hi.”

Éowyn smiled kindly at him. “How are you?”

“Worried.” He confessed.

“Léoith told me your name is Percival.”

He groaned. “She said she wouldn’t feed a squirrel, only a boy with a real name.” Éowyn had to fight to not laugh. “But I don’t like that name.”

“I’ll call you Squirrel then.” She promised him. “But you need to be honest with me. What happened to you and your friend?”

He lowered his head, his shoulders slumping. “You’ll hate me if you know the truth.”

“Why?”

“Everyone in our country does. They hunted us, killed our families. I don’t even know if there’s anyone left.”

Éowyn could see as his eyes were filled with tears, but he tried to hold back. He was full of pride and really brave for his age, but he was still a child. She grabbed his hand and pulled him a bit closer.

“Squirrel, have you ever hurt someone weaker than you? Preyed on the innocent?”

“Never!” He stated immediately.

“Then I won’t hate you.” She promised. “Tell me what happened.”

He seemed conflicted, his eyes going to Lancelot. Then he sighed and started telling her.

***

Éomer had returned to Edoras, and Éowyn had asked him to stay just for a few days, so she could run freely. When her brother was around, Gríma dedicated all his attention to him.

Éomer wanted to know what she was doing that required distracting Gríma, but Éowyn was weary of telling him then. She promised to tell him as soon as she was sure it was safe.

Squirrel had told her he was a Fey, and his people had been hunted mercilessly at his country. His parents were dead and he didn’t know about his friends. He told her he’d been stupid and got captured, and Lancelot had risked his life to save him. That was why he was so hurt.

They’d ridden for days, but he didn’t even know they’d entered Rohan.

He was constantly worried about Lancelot. He’d insisted on sleeping next to him, and he kept vigil by his friend’s sick bed.

The same night Queen Sansa suddenly arrived in Edoras -and after Éomer had left -Éowyn went to Léoith’s house, only to find that Lancelot was burning with fever. He’d been doing much better recently, so this had come out of nowhere.

Éowyn couldn’t leave Léoith alone in this situation, so she spent the night there, helping in anyway she could, even when -at times -it meant just drying Squirrel’s tears.

She didn’t think Lancelot would survive that night.

***

Awareness washed over him, painful and bright. His whole body hurt and burned at the same time. “Where am I?” Lancelot -once the Weeping Monk -gasped as he tried to sit up.

“You’re awake.” A soft, female voice said from somewhere near. He felt a hand on his shoulder. “You’re safe.”

He was confused. “The boy…” Squirrel. Percival. “Where’s…”

“He’s sleeping on the bed next to yours.” The same voice told him. Lancelot tried to turn and see, but was unable. “He was afraid you might disappear if he closed his eyes, but exhaustion won in the end.”

He blinked, trying to clear the spots in his vision. “Is he hurt?”

“No.” She finally became clear to him. A woman with blond hair and sorrow in her eyes. “You, on the other hand, are lucky to be alive.”

He closed his eyes. “Is it really luck?”

Her movements stopped abruptly and a silence followed. “Have I wasted my efforts on someone who doesn’t wish to live?” Her words were acid.

He sighed. “Maybe I’m someone who doesn’t deserve to.”

He opened his eyes once again, and she was right there, close to him, looking down on him. “That boy cried the whole night by your bed.” She indicated the bed where Percival should be with her head. “Can you say that to him?” She demanded, but didn’t wait for an answer, because it was an obvious one. “Then don’t say it to yourself.”

***

Éowyn thanked Léoith as she passed her the fresh sheets, before she started hurrying back to Meduseld.

She climbed up the steps only to find Queen Susan outside, as if she was waiting for her. “Lady Éowyn.” Susan gave her a kind smile.

Éowyn cleared her throat. “Your Majesty.”

Éowyn didn’t understand the Queen very well. She’d arrived the day before -two days after Queen Sansa- and she’d been talking to Gríma and trying to talk to Théoden, but Éowyn never managed to know the content of those conversations.

“Would you walk with me?” Susan asked. “The court life here is much quieter than Cair Paravel and I feel bored.”

Éowyn pressed her lips together, unable to believe this woman would be so callous when it was obvious their kingdom was suffering and grieving.

However, Susan was a Queen, so Éowyn accepted the arm the woman offered her and they started walking.

They walked in silence for a good while. “Is this far enough that we can talk?” Susan suddenly asked, her tone low, her vague smile still on her face.

Éowyn’s whole body tensed. “Your Majesty?”

“Do you think Gríma has done something to your uncle?” Susan pushed, still with the same tone of voice and expression.

“There’s nothing I can prove.” Éowyn said carefully, since she didn’t know exactly what the woman wanted.

“Éowyn, I’m on your side.” Susan assured her.

“You don’t even know what side I’m on.” Éowyn told her through gritted teeth.

“We both know you’re here for your people and your uncle. Gríma doesn’t care about any of that.”

“And you do?”

“It may be hard to believe, but I do.”

Chapter Text

Their stay in Lórien had already reached its second week. Aragorn didn’t wish to linger, but they all needed the rest and the comfort.

Losing Gandalf had been a big hit to them all and he worried for the Fellowship.

Most of all, he worried about Boromir, which was why he tried to talk to the other man. He knew Boromir felt uncomfortable being there, as he was unable to forget Lady Galadriel’s voice whispering in his head.

Aragorn understood Boromir to an extent, and he could sympathize up to a point. He truly believed the Captain was a good man; he was just scared.

However, people could do dangerous things when they were scared. That was the problem.

“You are quiet.” He commented, approaching the man.

Boromir nodded absent-mindedly. “Do you know anything about Westeros?”

It was the last thing Aragorn had expected to hear from Boromir. “Westeros? The Seven Kingdoms?”

“Now it’s Six.”

Aragorn frowned and took a seat next to Boromir. “I have to admit… I’ve been there once, a long time ago. I’ve never returned, and I admit I haven’t thought about it in a good while.”

“There was a war.” Boromir informed him. “The North became independent.”

The North? Was this somehow connected to Lord Stark? “How do you know that?”

“When I was on my way to Rivendell I came across this woman.” Boromir told him. “Lady Tyrell. She was on her way to Minas Tirith to talk to my father. There’s a new Queen in Westeros, and she wants Gondor’s friendship.”

Aragorn was intrigued. “Why?”

“And why now?” Boromir threw back. “That was what I was thinking about. It only just occurred to me that this can’t be a coincidence. The time…”

“Do you think it has something to do with the One Ring?”

Boromir sighed. “It just occurred to me that the timing is suspicious.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Aragorn asked, no accusation in his voice.

“It slipped my mind.” Boromir admitted. “By the time I got to Rivendell we had the Council, then we were preparing for the journey… I pushed the encounter to the back of my mind.”

“Then why did you remember it now?”

Boromir indicated an elf maiden who was a few meters away from them. “Lady Tyrell was wearing a dress of the same color when we met.”

Aragorn looked from the maiden to Boromir, an eyebrow arched. “How pretty is this Lady Tyrell?”

Boromir snorted. “Plenty.” He confessed. “And she knows it.”

Aragorn couldn’t help but chuckle, but he soon became serious. “It is odd that they’re here now.” He agreed. “After all these years of distance, it makes little sense that Westeros chose to pursue any kind of alliance with us.”

Boromir just nodded his agreement. Aragorn put a hand on his shoulder. “However…” He continued. “We have our own concerns now and we should focus on the journey. Your father isn’t a foolish man; he can handle the people from Westeros.”

Chapter Text

They had been in Edoras for about a week, and Jaime wasn’t impressed.

“These people are depressing.”

Brienne gave Jaime a look. “Their circumstances are complicated.” She reminded him.

“I know.” He assured her. “But still… The smell of horse in the air is quite pungent.”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something?” She said pointedly.

“Are you suggesting I’m not attending to my tasks?” Jaime asked dramatically.

“Jaime…”

Jaime quickly leaned down and stole a kiss. “I’m working, wench. Don’t you worry.”

Brienne was fighting her smile when Theon arrived with his arms full of apples. “There you are.” He looked directly at Jaime. “Our Queen wants to talk to you.”

“That girl took over the role very easily. One would say she was born to boss people around.”

Theon snorted. “Bad thing you weren’t born with more common sense.” He threw an apple to Jaime. “Go do something useful.”

Jaime grumbled but left, and Theon offered an apple to Brienne. “Where did you get these?” She wanted to know.

“A lady gave them to me. She said I needed to eat more.”

“She isn’t wrong. You still look like a strong breeze could carry you away.”

Theon shrugged. “I don’t feel hungry most of the time.”

Brienne knew that. She also knew he was still recovering and he had many dark dreams because of what had happened to him, so she didn’t push it. But she was happy to see him eating an apple.

It was quite tasty.

***

Jaime had grown up with Tywin Lannister. His father was a brilliant politician, and he knew what it took to have power -and to keep it.

Jaime had made choices that probably frustrated his father to the Seven Hells and back -to put it mildly. As the years went by, he kept watching his father and learning from him, even if not for the reasons Tywin would expect.

Therefore, he’d seen his fair share of intrigue, treason and political webs woven around palaces… Whatever was happening in Edoras, it wasn’t exactly that.

Yes, it had to do with power and maybe even the crown, but it was not only that. There was malice in the air, there was something that wasn’t just common human greed. Whatever was at work there, it wasn’t… Natural.

Jaime wasn’t the type to believe in evil energies or whatever… But after the Night King and the dragons, he was willing to be more open-minded. He was starting to believe that the problems around this place were way worse that the Night King.

He didn’t want to think how that could even be possible.

He found Sansa sitting by the fire in the hall, her eyes watching the King.

“Have you called for me, my liege?” Jaime bowed dramatically to Sansa.

She turned her eyes to him. “Yes.” Sansa -as usual -pushed on, ignoring his way of speaking. “I need you to find something for me.”

“Yes?”

“Lady Éowyn is always going around secretly.” Sansa hummed. “I want to know where she’s going. It might be better to ask Arya to find out.”

“I am quite capable of doing this myself.” Jaime was almost pouting.

“You’re tall and good-looking, Jaime. You attract too much attention; not a good thing when you’re trying to spy on someone.”

“Oh, flattery will get you anything, my lady.” He grinned, then looked around. “Where’s Queen Susan?”

“Talking to Gríma.” Sansa didn’t seem bothered by the notion.

He snorted. “Is she still trying to convince him to accept Narnia’s help?”

“Yes. She is quite direct about it; she’s offered to bring part of their army here.”

Jaime hummed. “It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Why is he refusing this type of help?”

Sansa looked at him. “You know as well as I there’s only one reason for that.”

He nodded. “Obviously. But what does he tell her?”

“I do not know.” Sansa admitted. “She doesn’t share much with me.”

“You can be quite charming when you want to. Why don’t you try to get closer to her?”

Sansa sighed. “She doesn’t trust me very much. To be quite honest, I don’t know if I trust her. She is too much of an idealist.”

Jaime snickered. “Oh those wide-eyed believers…”

Sansa gave him a look. “Go. I’ll try talking to her later.”

Jaime bowed and left, and Sansa followed him with her eyes until he crossed the doors of the hall. Then she turned her eyes back to the King.

King Théoden was being tended by two women, who were feeding him. He looked particularly fragile just then, as if a sound above a whisper could break him.

Sansa had been thinking -for quite some time now -that he’d been poisoned. From what she’d heard, King Théodoen wasn’t that old or that fragile. People kept saying he was sick.

Sansa wondered at it. Was he truly sick, or was someone making him sick? It was true that maybe someone was just taking advantage of his bad health, but she didn’t think it was the case. She didn’t think it was just a coincidence, she believed someone had made the King sick.

Well, not someone. She was sure it was Gríma.

The only thing she didn’t understand was what he planned to do next. The King had heirs -more than one, for what she understood -and Gríma wasn’t exactly surrounded by allies. He didn’t strike her as someone like Baelish, who had a long plan, but had a plan.

There was something else at work here, and it bothered Sansa immensely that she couldn’t figure out what it was.

***

“A coin, my lord?”

Jaime looked at the old woman begging -more like a hag, really.

He pulled a coin from his pocket. “Lady Éowyn.” He said simply, and the woman just nodded.

It really unnerved him this thing that Arya did.

***

Susan groaned in frustration.

“Let me guess.” Helga growled. “Rohan does not want Narnia’s help.”

“According to Gríma, they don’t need it.” Susan informed the leopard.

Helga snorted.

“What now, My Lady?” Reep asked.

“He is definitely up to something.” Susan pressed her fingers to her temple. “I just can’t figure out what it is.”

“He must have someone behind him.” Reep pointed out. “He does not have power here. Most people don’t even like him.”

“But who is this person?” Susan pressed.

“The people from Westeros?” Helga suggested.

Susan became quiet.

“That is quite the accusation, Helga.” Reep said. “We cannot…”

“It is just a suggestion.” Helga cut him. “I am not saying they are the ones behind the scene, but it is suspicious that they are here now. I don’t think the Queen is telling the truth.”

“Neither do I.” Susan admitted. “But it wouldn’t make sense. The North has nothing to gain by interfering here in Rohan. Even as a political ally, Rohan cannot offer them anything.”

“Yes, Rohan can’t, but Sauron might be able to.”

Susan pressed her lips together and took a deep breath in. “I can’t believe in that without any evidence.”

Helga nodded.

“My Lady, we should contact Queen Lucy.” Reep urged her. “One of the rumors I heard was that Queen Sansa was here because Queen Daenerys had sent someone to Minas Tirith.”

“Enemy of my enemy?” Susan guessed.

“Yes, but she lied about that. One of mine caught her sending a letter to Lady Tyrell.”

Susan frowned. “They are communicating.”

“They are scheming.” 

Chapter Text

Faramir wasn’t quite sure how he got roped into taking Lady Margaery for a stroll through the gardens, but there he was.

Her brother was walking a few steps behind them, but the lady was paying him no mind. She was a pleasant coversionalist; charming and witty. He also wasn’t exactly certain of what she wanted.

“The gardens are lovely, my lord.” She told him.

“You are too kind, Lady Tyrell.” He nodded at her.

“Not at all.” She waved away his modesty. “It is impressive, as a matter of fact, and I am particularly knowledgeable on the subject.”

“Right. You have mentioned something of the sort.”

“Exactly.” She gave him a sunny smile.

Faramir cleared his throat. “My lady… I have heard you met my brother on the road.” She’d told his father something to that effect, but Faramir hadn’t wished to discuss it with Denethor.

“I have.”

“How was he?”

“He was quite lost.” She admitted. “And he did not have a horse anymore, but he was well. We gave him a horse to continue his journey.”

“That was very kind of you.”

“Oh no. I did do it for a price.” She whispered to him as if she was about to share a big secret.

“A price?” Faramir frowned.

“Yes. He was supposed to show me the city, so we will have to keep this garden stroll a secret when he returns.” She teased him.

A surprised chuckle left Faramir’s lips. “It will be our secret, my lady.”

***

There was something about Lady Tyrell that Queen Lucy didn’t trust -at all. Mostly it was because the woman wouldn’t tell the complete truth about anything. She was keeping her secrets -her mission -concealed, under the guise that the Dragon Queen was willing to help Gondor fight Mordor.

It seemed too good to be that simple, but Lucy didn’t know how she could talk about this without the other woman learning about her suspicions.

Edmund was… A tad more impatient.

“Our sister is in Rohan.” He said during dinner. “She said that Queen Sansa is also there.”

“I have heard rumours.” Margaery said politely.

“Do you know her?” Edmund pressed.

“I do. Although…” She put a hand to her chest. “It is a bit of a complicated story.”

“How so?”

“You see, my lord, I met Queen Sansa a long time ago, under… Complicated circumstances.”

“Such as?” Edmund was clearly intent on getting an answer out of her that night.

“Sansa was a political hostage after her father was accused of treason and executed for it.” She told them, her face the perfect semblance of sympathy. “She was but a girl at the time, and she was to be wed to the King who had ordered her father’s execution.”

“That must have been horrible for her.” Faramir said with a frown.

“It was.” Margaery conceded. “However, I was presented to the King as a better choice, and he decided to not marry her anymore.”

“You stole her betrothed?” Lucy couldn’t help but ask.

“Trust me, my lady, she did not mind it at all.” Margaery waved the concern away. “We became good friends.”

Now they were getting somewhere. “Have you remained friends?” Edmund wanted to know.

“As I said… It was complicated.” Margaery sighed sadly. “Joffrey -the King -was poisoned during our wedding feast, he died in his mother’s arms.”

“Oh my!” Lucy covered her mouth.

“Yes. It was quite horrifying.” Margaery nodded. “And Sansa was accused of doing it, but she escaped the city before they could get to her. We spent years apart after that, and only met briefly after the end of the war for the Iron Throne, when she came to bargain for the North’s indepence.” She took a sip from her wine.

“Why did the Dragon Queen allow it to happen?” Denethor spoke up for the first time in a while.

“It was an agreement based on a few things, but most of all no one desired to keep on fighting at that point.” Margaery told him. “King’s Landing was destroyed, the North was not in a better situation, so it was decided it was for the best if we laid down the weapons.”

“So you do not keep in touch with Queen Sansa?” Edmund pushed again.

“Queen Sansa has my respect, but Queen Daenerys has my loyalty.” She answered.

It didn’t escape the Pevensies’ attention that this wasn’t an answer.

***

“They do not trust us.” Loras commented once they were back from dinner.

“Would you?” Margaery wanted to know.

“Not particularly.” He admitted. “The questions about Queen Sansa… Do you think they know we are talking to her?”

“Maybe.” Margaery shrugged. “They might have spies here.”

“Have you found our spy?”

“No.” She sighed. “Maybe they heard that Twyin is not in power anymore and decided to leave their post.”

Loras hummed his agreement, then eyed his sisters as she prepared to leave. “Are you going to see the Regent again?”

“Lord Denethor has asked to see me after dinner.”

Loras frowned. “He is not… Doing anything to you, is he?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, he is not, Loras. I do not believe he has such interest in me. We just talk.”

“Just be careful.”

Margaery cupped his face. “Always, brother.”

***

Margaery had been in Minas Tirith for quite some time now, and she felt she had a good grasp on Lord Denethor’s personality.

He wasn’t a bad man and he also wasn’t a stupid one. She didn’t get the impression that Lord Denethor coveted the throne for himself.

There was something nervous, almost paranoid in him. There was a shadow of an honourable man, who’d once only wanted to protect his people, before the constant threat made him break.

Queen Lucy might have fantasies about Margaery whispering poisonous words in the Regent’s ears, but the truth was they just talked. A lot.

Denethor told her stories, she did the same. He did ask a lot of questions about Queen Daenerys' armies and dragons, but he’d probably had asked all of those when she arrived. Most of the time she spent with him now was just talking about many subjects -including gossip.

Of course, Denethor wasn’t a man without his flaws -like his glaring favouritism towards his older son.

“Are you communicating with Queen Sansa?” He asked her after a while.

Margaery had been expecting the question -as she’d said, he wasn’t stupid. She’d thought a lot about how she’d answer that when the time came.

Margaery had decided with a partial truth. “I am.”

“What do you talk about?” He gave her a firm look.

“She complains about the estate of things in Rohan, I tell her that the Queen of Narnia thinks I am a wicked witch putting a spell on you.”

Denethor snorted. “I see.” He took a sip from his wine. “What is she doing there?”

“The same I am doing here, I suppose.”

He pinned her with a serious look. “And is that exactly?”

“Offering aid.”

He hummed, but didn’t say anything else for a while and Margaery waited in silence. She knew that people would often say the wrong things when trying to fill the silence, so she avoided it all together.

“It is a sad state of affairs.” He said at last.

Margaery frowned. “My lord?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. It is late, child. Go back to your room.”

Margaery knew a dismissal when she heard one. She got up, curtised prettily and left the man alone.

Chapter Text

“How are you today, Squirrel?”

“Bored… Your ladyship.” He completed it quickly.

Éowyn touched his shoulder. “I can only imagine how you must feel being locked inside this little house, but it is for your protection.”

“I know.” He said, his voice morose. “The last time I did not hear the person trying to protect me, I got a lot of people hurt.” A sigh. “I have learned my lesson.”

It’s a good thing he wouldn’t wander, because Éowyn didn’t want Gríma to know about the two visitors, especially Lancelot. There was something different about him.

He’d arrived there in bad conditions, but after they treated his injuries and he survived the fever, he started to recover very fast.

Scaringly fast.

Squirrel had said they were Fey -whatever that meant -and maybe that was why his recovery was speedy. Éowyn didn’t have enough information to confirm that theory.

“Are you feeling better?” She asked Lancelot as she sat next to him.

Lancelot, quiet as usual, just nodded.

He hardly ever spoke, just answered her questions with his low voice. He always seemed like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and his eyes were so incredibly sad, that Éowyn felt her heart breaking every time she looked into them.

He also had scars on his back, scars that only a whip could create, according to Léoith. He had been hurt many times before this one, and some of those scars told horrible stories.

She’d never forget that one of the first things he said to her was to imply he might not deserve to be alive.

However, Squirrel had cried by his bedside, defended him. The boy was a good one, and if he trusted and loved this man Éowyn could give him the benefit of the doubt.

“You are recovering fast.” She commented, just to see what he’d say.

He was quiet for a while, and she thought Lancelot would just pretend he hadn’t heard her question. “I have Fey blood.” He finally said.

“Squirrel said you were Fey…” Éowyn admitted. “But I do not know what that means.”

He finally looked at her. “We are children of magic -but not wizards. We have a… A deep connection to nature.”

“Is that why you heal so fast?” She asked him.

“Yes.”

Éowyn was careful when she chose her next words. “Squirrel told me what happened to you. How you got hurt and why you rode so far from your country.”

His shoulders sagged impossibly low, his face turning from hers. “I am not a good person. I do not deserve…”

Éowyn covered his hand with hers. “That boy does not think so. He thinks you are worth saving.”

“I am…”

“Lady Éowyn!” Léoith hurried inside the small bedroom. “I am sorry, but… My nephews just came in to tell me.”

“What happened?” She got up immediately.

“Lord Éomer is back.”

***

Sansa was outside the King’s hall -in what could have once been called a garden -when a guard appeared.

“Your Grace.” He bowed quickly. “We have a situation, and the King has kindly asked you to retire to your chambers for now.” He seemed uncomfortable asking her that.

Sandor was glaring at the man, but Sansa thought about it for a minute. Théoden wasn’t in the position to ask anyone anything -kindly or not. However, she decided to go along with whatever this was for now.

“Of course.” She rose and turned to the maid who was also there. “Thank you for your company.”

Of course, the ‘maid’ was actually Arya wearing one of her faces. She’d been telling Sansa what she’d heard around the city, and it wasn’t good. Gríma was clearly ruling in Thédoen’s place and slowly -but surely- making life difficult for the people of the Mark. She’d also found something really interesting about Lady Éowyn.

“Let us go, Ser Clegane.”

“Your Grace.” He grumbled.

Arya would figure out what was happening for her.

***

Susan had been in her room for over three hours now. It was clear that Gríma didn’t want her to know about whatever ‘urgent business’ was being discussed.

However, he’d forgotten one thing: she had a mouse on her side.

“My Queen.” Reep hurried inside the room. “I bring dreadful news.”

Concern squeezed her chest. “What has happened?”

“Lord Éomer was here.” He started, his little body clearly weighted by what he’d learned. “He brought back the body of Prince Théodred, the King’s son.”

Susan covered her mouth.

“He was killed by orcs.” Reep continued. “Lord Éomer claims that those orcs follow Sauruman the White, but Gríma said he is a friend.”

“I know whom I believe in.” Helga grumbled.

“How did the King react to the news?” Susan wanted to know.

Reep sadly shook his head. “He did not react at all.”

Susan sighed. “This is sad news.”

“Actually, my lady, it is worse.” Reep offered. “This was not the end of it. Lord Éomer accused Gríma of being a traitor, and of serving Saruman. Gríma has now banished Éomer, claiming it was an order signed by the King himself.”

Susan couldn’t believe this. “He was banished?”

“Yes, my lady. Dragged away like a common criminal.”

“This is really bad.” Helga agreed. “Gríma has made his move -a bold one at that. This cannot bode well for the Mark.”

“What should we do, my lady?” Reep wanted to know.

Susan took a deep breath in. “I think it is time I talk to Queen Sansa. Properly.”

***

Sansa had been embroidering for what seemed like days when someone knocked on her door. Theon -who was closer to it -opened it, revealing Queen Susan and Helga.

Sansa stood up. “Queen Susan.”

“Queen Sansa.” Susan nodded at the other woman. “I have been terribly bored. Would you mind if I sat with you?”

Sansa didn’t react at all to the strange request. “Of course.”

Only then did Sansa notice the anxious guard behind Queen Susan, a man that was making sure she was going exactly where she said she was.

“Ser Clegane.” She looked at the man. “Can you wait outside so us ladies can talk about our things in private?”

Sandor snorted and didn’t even bother mentioning that it’d be hard for them to talk in private, since Jaime, Brienne and Theon were still there, but he knew what Sansa wanted. He just had to stand in front of the door and make sure the guard didn’t eavesdrop on the conversation.

“What can I do for you, Your Majesty?” Sansa asked as soon as the door closed.

“Can I trust you?” Susan asked directly. “Are you here to help this country? Do you care who sits on the throne?”

Sansa’s three guardians exchanged silent looks, but the Queen just kept her gaze firmly on Susan. “You are asking me whether Grímas has my support.”

Susan just nodded once.

“He does not.” Sansa answered simply. “I am not certain of his plans, but if he wants the throne… Well, he is definitely not suited for it. Rohan deserves a better king.”

“Rohan deserves its king.” Susan pointed out.

“What do I have to do with that?” Sansa wanted to know.

“Reepchip has come to me after hearing the conversation we were clearly excluded from.” Susan told her. “I am wondering if I should share.”

Sansa stared at Susan in silence, like she was trying to come to some decision.

“Shouldn’t we admit we want the same thing and make a truce?” The Narnian Queen pressed.

Sansa tried not to snort, but she did anyway. “It is not personal.” She told Queen Susan. “I just learned to keep my cards close to my chest.”

Susan looked at Helga, then sighed. She took a seat near the other Queen. “I can understand that. I have only heard stories, Queen Sansa. I do not know what really happened to you or your people, but it cannot have been easy. However… ” She hesitated. “I do believe we are here for the same reason, and we want the same thing. Something tells me you care about Lady Éowyn and the people of the Mark.”

The whole room became quiet, tense in waiting. Jaime was impressed by Queen Susan’s little speech. Yes, Narnians were perhaps too idealistic, but it came from a place of honour and legitimate concern. They weren’t sanctimonious or arrogant.

They were just nauseatingly good.

Sansa pressed her lips together. “What has Sir Reepchip found out?” She finally asked.

Susan explained to the other Queen about what the mouse had heard -the death of the prince, Éomer’s banishment, the accusations against Saruman and Gríma. Sansa heard everything in silence.

“What do you propose?” She asked Susan. 

“Lady Éowyn needs people on her side.” Susan said immediately. “She is alone here and her uncle is probably under a spell. She does not have many people she can trust, but if she can trust us…”

Sansa nodded her agreement. “I think you have better chances with her.” She admitted. “I think Lady Éowyn is not convinced she can trust me.”

“Well, you are…” Susan paused. “Guarded.”

Sansa chuckled. “Very diplomatic, Your Majesty.”

“Do you think there is anything else we can do?” Susan wanted to know.

“I could write to my cousin and ask him to send soldiers, but it would take months for him to get here.”

Susan frowned. “Do you think we need an army?”

“We might, if we wish to help the King to keep his crown.” Sansa became quiet for a minute. “There is something I wish to do…” She turned to her people. “Who is the best tracker amongst you?”

“The Hound.” Theon said almost immediately.

Jaime clicked his tongue. “As much as I hate to say this, probably Arya.”

Sansa nodded. “We need her.”

“Who is Arya?” Susan wanted to know, because she knew the tall woman was called Brienne.

“My sister.”

The Queen of Narnia arched an eyebrow. “I did not know your sister was here.”

“That was the plan.” Sansa confessed. Before Susan could ask more questions, she continued. “Have you met Lord Éomer?”

The Queen of Narnia blushed. “Briefly.”

Sansa arched an eyebrow, but didn’t ask. “I want someone to look for him. Try to bring him back to this place.”

“You do know he was just banished, right?”

“Yes, but now he is the heir to the throne.”

Susan’s eyes rounded. “Oh. I had… I had not thought of that yet.”

“That must be why Gríma banished him so fast.” Sansa carried on. “It was a big risk.”

“There would be no risk if they had him killed.” Jaime pointed out.

“We cannot be sure they will not.” Theon completed.

“We cannot go after him immediately. Gríma will keep his eyes on us for now.” Sansa decided. “We need to wait a few days before making a move.”

“Lord Éomer has his own éored and his own keep.” Jaime offered. “It is a place called Aldburg, southeast of here.”

Brienne shook her head. “He might avoid his keep if he thinks his life is endangered. And he was banished from Rohan, not only here.”

“He still has men on his side and a legitimate claim.” Theon said. “It might be enough to rally the people.”

Susan observed all of this with interested eyes. “Do you have a plan already?”

“Not a very well formed one, but we do need to wait a few days before bringing the subject up.” Sansa said calmly. “I believe I can convince Gríma to let me go out of the city, and from there we would have to hunt down a certain heir.”

“The longer we wait, the farther he gets.” Susan said.

“We have no choice. If we press too soon, Gríma will think we are planning something. We need to give it a few days.”

“Maybe I should go.” Susan mused. “I talked to Lord Éomer before, we had an understanding.”

“That might be, but someone needs to remain here with Lady Éowyn, and I believe she would rather it be you.” Sansa sighed. “Gríma is not fond of your Narnians. I do not think he would let you out of his sight.”

Susan sighed. “So we wait a few days?”

“And we make a truce.”

Susan chuckled. “I cannot believe I am doing this.”

“We do want the same things, Queen Susan.” Sansa assured her. “I do not wish to see this country destroyed by greed anymore than I wish to have this evil arriving at my home.”

“So you are here to prevent this from reaching the North.” Susan hummed.

“As I said… Just like you.”

***

Asterius was a proud Narnian, so it did chafe a bit to admit they were going in circles.

They were not completely lost -they had kept the map of the land -but they were having a hard time keeping a straight line to Gondor. There were foul creatures roaming this land freely, and they had to avoid them. They might be great warriors, but eleven Narnians were not enough to fight the bands of orcs running around.

The only thing that confused him was that they were under the impression that orcs didn’t commonly walk under the sunlight. But if that was the truth, then what were the creatures who didn’t fear the sun?

Asterius was frustrated and concerned. He hadn’t wanted to leave his Queen behind, but if she felt he needed to go, he’d follow her order. At the same time… There was a sense of urgency. As if something pushed him forward at all times. His mind was telling him to go -not back to Queen Susan -but somewhere.

After too many days on the road, they decided to find a way by river. The Anduin was somewhat close and they realised most of the orcs were not coming from that direction. The river also entered Gondor, so it might be a good alternative.

They were somewhat close to reaching the river, when Klaus -the falcon and their scout -came back. “There are orcs near the river.”

Asterius grumbled under his breath. “Those orcs that walk in the sunlight, I imagine.”

“Yes. But… They are in combat.” Klaus told him.

“Is there an army?”

“I could not see an army. I think it is not.” The falcon looked concerned. “I think it is a small group. They have no chance.”

Asterius did not want to make the choice of whether they should help or not. It was a big risk, and they were in a small…

The sound of a horn seemed to echo around them. The two foxes in the group -who had more acute hearing -were instantly on alert. It was a call for help.

The sound of it was so similar to Queen Susan’s horn that it spread an icy feeling throught his chest, even though he knew it wasn’t her.

The ten Narnians in the group turned to Asterius, waiting for his decision, as he was the one leading them.

He didn’t even have to think about it. “Go.”

The Narnians advanced through the threes, following the sound of the horn and battle. The foxes and the falcon were way ahead of the others.

Asterius came across his first orc, and used his axe to dispatch the odious creature. The others were also engaged in battle, and he saw one of the fauns advancing.

He turned, swung his axe, and hit another orc, just in time to see a man. The man looked at him in shock, his hand clenching on the handle of his sword, as if he was unsure whether Asterius was the foe.

“Man. Were you the one blowing the horn?” He demanded.

The man seemed to wake from his trance. “Boromir.” He said urgently, and took off running. Asterius followed after him.

They reached a clearing, finding another man on his knees, arrows on his chest, and a big orc preparing to end him.

The man that Asterius had found before was quick to attack the orc. The minotaur reached the wounded warrior and laid him down.

“Easy, son of men.” Asterius said when he seemed like he would resist. “I am a friend.”

“Who…?”

Just then, Serene -a centaur -arrived from the opposite direction. “They took someone. I think they were children.” She said to Asterius. “We could not give chase, there are too many of them.”

“The little ones.” The man gasped. “They took the little ones.”

Serene lowered herself next to the man and looked at Asterius. “He will not survive.” She spoke softly. “Those wounds are too deep.”

The man grabbed Asterius’ arm. “Leave me. Find them.”

Asterius looked down and saw the bracers in the man’s arms. They had the White Tree on them. “You are a man from Gondor.”

“Boromir!” The other man came closer, finally having killed the orc. Asterius gave him space to kneel next to his friend.

“Asterius…” Serene looked at him. “If you are going to do it…”

Queen Susan had told him he’d know when to use it. She’d had faith that he’d make the right choice at the right moment.

This felt like the right moment.

“Man.” He called the other warrior. “If you want to save his life, we need to pull the arrows. Now.”

The man frowned at him. “Who are you?”

“I am Asterius from Narnia, and we have no time. Hurry.”

The man nodded. Serene grabbed a small dagger and made Boromir bite down on its handle. They pulled the arrows out, knowing that whatever damage that could be done was already done either way.

The medicine would either work or not. However it was his only chance.

“What are you going to do?” The other man wanted to know.

Asterius grabbed the ring that Queen Susan had given him and passed it to Serene -her hands were far more delicate than his. “I will pass the grace that was given to me, and hope it will save him.”

The man watched in silence as Serene tilted Boromir’s head back. The stone on top of the ring was moved and from it a single drop of some liquid was dropped in Boromir’s mouth.

They waited in silence, in tense anticipation -both men probably unsure of what exactly. Seconds seemed to drag on for ages, while they waited to see if the potion would work, or if they were too late.

Finally, Boromir took a deep breath in, his eyes becoming round in shock. “How?”

“You are a lucky man, Boromir.” Serene smiled at him. “Queen Lucy’s potion has just saved your life.”

The other man was looking at them. “Did you say you were from Narnia?”

Asterius nodded. “I think we should talk.”

“Yes, we should.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Edoras

“Are you certain of this?”

“Not really. I dislike riding.” Sansa said as she put on her gloves.

Susan gave her a look. “You know that was not what I meant.”

“I do. And I even appreciate your concern.” Sansa said diplomatically. “However, it has already taken me too long to convince Gríma… I mean, the King, to let me go.” She gave Susan a meaningful look. “We cannot waste this opportunity.”

“Who are you taking with you?”

“I can only bring Brienne and Theon, apparently.” Sansa rolled her eyes. “Sandor and Jaime will stay here, but we will meet Arya outside.”

“The mysterious sister.”

Sansa nodded at the other Queen. “Yes.” The less said about Arya the better. Sansa had a feeling that the Queen from Narnia wouldn’t appreciate Arya’s ways of solving problems.

“Take Byron and Reepicheep with you.”

“You mean the falcon and the mouse?” Sansa tried to be as neutral as possible when she said that, but she obviously failed, because Susan frowned.

“Byron is a scout and can help you with your search.” Susan told her. “And Reep is a fighter and you might need help.”

It had taken days for things to settle down in court. Sansa and Susan weren’t talking about their alliance to anyone, and the Queen in the North was sure Lady Éowyn wasn’t aware of what they were doing.

Which explained why she’d been glaring at Sansa for a while now, but there was nothing she could do. Susan had offered to talk to Éowyn, but Sansa believed it was too risky letting more people know about their plan. She did know the lady would probably help them -seeing as they were trying to find her brother -but she still didn’t think it was safe to tell anyone else.

Besides, she didn’t need Lady Éowyn to like her.

Therefore, Sansa had spent her time putting up with Gríma until she managed to convince him she’d like to go for a ride, since she was oh-so-bored. The biggest problem with Gríma was that he was a snivelling rat. He was way too greedy, and he wasn’t even interesting.

But that was done, and Sansa had her permission to go out of the city for a ride. Brienne and Theon -probably those that Gríma deemed unthreatening -were allowed to go with her, and he’d also generously sent five more soldiers to go along with her.

Sansa had smiled and nodded, and now she was getting ready to leave. Arya would be waiting for them outside Edoras with provisions, since they were likely going to be missing for a few days.

“I will keep an eye on your people.” Susan offered.

“I appreciate that.” Sansa told her honestly. “Although, knowing Sandor, he might just bash a few heads in and go after us.”

Susan frowned. “Is that a jest?”

Sansa gave her a placid smile. “Take it whichever way makes you more comfortable.”

Susan narrowed her eyes at Sansa, but she had a place to go.

***

As much as Sansa agreed that Theon looked frail -and she did want him to eat more -he was no weakling. A fact that many weren’t aware of, which was very convenient.

Brienne was also very often discounted, even though she was extremely tall. Men tended to overlook her, just because she was a woman.

Those two things served Sansa very well, especially as they left Edoras with five of Gríma’s men behind them.

Lord Byron -yes, the falcon was a lord -was flying above them, while Reep was sitting on the horn of Sansa’s saddle, talking about Narnia. One of their guards had asked why the mouse was coming along, but the others clearly didn’t see a problem with his presence.

“You see, Your Grace, the trees dance.” He was telling her.

“Certainly no!” Sansa laughed, entertained despite herself. She didn’t expect to like Reep quite as much as she did.

“I do not jet, my lady.” He insisted. “You should see it. There is not a more beautiful sight in this whole world.”

“What do you think, Theon?” Sansa threw over her shoulder.

“I think it sounds terrifying.” He replied.

They’d lost sight of the city and rode a bit further when they came across an old woman with a lonely horse. She waved at them, and Sansa started moving towards her.

“Wait a moment…” The guard’s words were cut by the knife thrown at his chest.

A second knife hit another guard, before they even had time to react. Brienne had already pulled her sword out and Theon hit a third guard with an arrow.

Soon Gríma’s men were all dead.

“That was…” Reep looked around. “Brutal.”

“Necessary.” Sansa corrected. “Arya.”

Reep looked at the old woman, just to realise she wasn’t there anymore. In her place, a young woman was looking at them.

“Finally.” She grumbled.

“Arya, allow me to introduce you to Reepicheep.” Sansa indicated the mouse. “This is my sister, sir. Arya Stark.”

“My lady.” The mouse bowed.

Arya frowned. “Hello, sir.” She replied carefully.

“Let us carry on.” Sansa spoke up. “I fear we have a long way ahead.”

***

One hour later -and many questions exchanged between Arya and Reep -Lord Byron came down and landed on Brienne’s shoulder.

“There is a small group coming this way.” He informed them. “Four horses, but five people. I think one of them is a dwarf, another is an old man and the other three look like men.”

“Are they close?” Sansa wanted to know.

“They are coming straight at us.”

“What do we do, my lady?” Brienne asked.

Sansa looked at the falcon again. “Are they men from this land?”

“I do not believe so, my lady.”

“Let us wait and see, then.” She decided.

“Fine, but not here.” Arya cut in. “They will have a better position to take us, because they will come from the hill and will be against the sun. We should get to high ground.”

“You heard her. Lord Byron, take flight again.”

“Yes, my lady.” The falcon took flight and they moved to make their way up the hill.

Unfortunately, they didn’t manage to get to the top of it before they were faced with one figure on a horse.

“Who goes there?” The male voice demanded. As he was against the sun, Sansa couldn’t properly see his face, but she could make enough of his shape to know he had an arrow pointed at her.

She could almost hear Arya thinking about killing him. She raised her hand a bit, asking her sister to wait without words.

“I am not a threat.” Sansa called back to the man, even as three other figures appeared behind him.

“I will decide that.” He insisted. “Show me your face.”

Brienne gasped in outrage, but she would also wait. Sansa was almost sure of that. “Fine.” She conceded, pushing her hood back.

Whatever the man had expected, it clearly wasn’t a young woman, and his silence confirmed it. She could hear Brienne and Arya moving behind her, possibly also revealing their faces. 

“Satisfied?” She demanded from him.

The group moved from their higher position, so it became easier to see them. The man with a bow was no man. Sansa didn’t know how she knew that, she just did. The other two were obviously men, but not this one. And the one behind him… If she had to guess, definitely a dwarf.

“Those are dark times, my lady.” He spoke, his eyes fixed on her. “You should not be walking around alone.”

Arya scoffed behind her, but Sansa just looked at him. “Trust me. I am not doing this because I want to.”

“Then why are you here?” He demanded.

Sansa arched an eyebrow at him. “Now, why should I trust you?”

“We mean no harm, my lady.” The man with dark hair spoke. “However, my friend is right. And you are not from here.”

Sansa could play coy now, but she didn’t speak like the people from the Mark, and they both knew that.

“It seems we are at a stalemate, my lord.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Unless you plan on telling me why you are here, since you are also not a man of the Mark.”

He exchanged looks with the man closest to him, then with the older man. Sansa could feel the first one who talked to her staring at her, but she chose to ignore him. He’d put his bow down, so he wasn’t a threat at the moment.

“We are on our way to Edoras.” The dark haired one finally said. “We seek to talk to the King.”

“The King is not well, so you might not get your wish.”

“You have been to Edoras recently?” The man asked.

“Yes.”

“Is Queen Susan there?” The man to his right asked.

Sansa frowned. “How do you know the Queen of Narnia?” Sansa wanted to know.

“We have crossed paths with her people.” He explained.

“Asterius?” Reep demanded, jumping on the head of Arya’s horse, finally revealing his presence.

The man nodded. “Are you also from Narnia?”

“Yes.” Reep looked at Sansa. “Maybe we should talk to them, my lady?”

Sansa sighed. “I am Queen Sansa Stark from the North.” She finally said. “This is my sister, Arya. These are my companions, Brienne of Tarth and Theon Greyjoy. This is Sir Reepicheep from Narnia. Lord Byron is flying above.”

“Queen Stark?” The old man asked. “From Westeros?”

“We have become independent from Westeros, lord…”

“I am no lord, my lady.” He nodded at her. “I am Gandalf the White.” He indicated the others. “These are my friends, Legolas, son of Thranduil, Gimli, son of Glóin, Aragorn, son of Arathorn and Boromir, son of Denethor.”

Sansa’s eyes turned to Boromir. “I see.” She looked again at Gandalf. “Should we dismount and talk.”

“Yes, my lady.”

***

“So you have seen Lord Éomer?”

“Yes.” Aragorn confirmed. “He is headed North.”

“Were you really looking for him?” Boromir asked.

“It was the only solution we could think of.” Sansa explained to them. “He is the King’s heir now.”

“So Théodred is gone.” Gandalf sighed. “Those are indeed dark tidings.”

“How many people do you have in Edoras, my lady?” Aragorn wanted to know.

“Just two others. Queen Susan has maybe thirty Narnians with her.”

“Twenty-five actually.” Reepicheep informed them.

“Not exactly an army.” Sansa said, already imagining where they were going with these questions.

“As we are all on the same side…” Gandalf declared, already moving back to his horse. “We should hurry back to Edoras. You should come with us, Queen Sansa. There will be an attack against Rohan sooner rather than later. You should not be out at a time like this.”

Sansa exchanged  a look with her sister, then sighed. “Alright. Let us go.”

She moved to her horse, and her sister came to her side. “Hey, Sansa.”

“Yes?”

“Doesn’t he look a lot like father?” She indicated Boromir with her head.

Sansa smiled. “You are right, he does. Just not as…”

“Serious?”

“Northerner.”

They shared a grin. “Isn’t he the one Margaery met?”

“Yes.” She confirmed. “He made an impression.”

Arya snorted. “Poor fool. Someone should warn him.”

***

Sansa had expected the one called Aragorn to interrogate her. There was something about him that spoke of leadership, but perhaps she was wrong.

“I will confess I had not heard about the independence of the North.” Gandalf mused as he rode next to her.

“I imagine you have been occupied with other concerns.” She offered mildly.

He nodded. “I do find it curious that, so soon after such a big event, you are here.”

She looked at him for a minute, then turned back to look ahead. “It is exactly because of such a big event that I am here so soon.”

The wizard gave Aragorn a look. “What do you mean by that?” Gandalf asked the Queen.

“Have you ever heard the tales from Westeros? The dead that walked, the cold that never leaves… The Long Night?”

“I have heard tales.” Gandalf confessed.

“Tales.” Sansa hummed. “We almost had to live it. We defeated the Night King.” She turned to stare at Gandalf. “I am not about to let anyone else threaten my people.”

“You believe this could reach your people?” Aragorn finally asked.

“It already has.” She told him. “What pushed us to come here was the fact that orcs attacked Riverland.”

“Orcs arrived in Westeros?” Gandalf was in shock.

“Yes, they did. So you see… It is better for us to fight this now.”

“Far from your home.” Gandalf guessed.

She just shrugged.

***

Elves believed in souls that were made to meet, one person made for them. His father had told Legolas about it, about meeting his wife and knowing -from one glace -that she was meant for him.

Legolas hadn’t believed much in it.

Until he saw the Queen from the North.

“You are staring.” She told him.

Yes, he had been staring. He could not help himself, he couldn’t stop.

So this is what it felt like to be finally complete? “You are beautiful.” He told her simply.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Rohan, near Edoras

“I think the elf does not want to keep his eyes on his face.” Arya grumbled.

Sansa sighed. “Arya…”

Theon looked over towards the elf and the others. “Yes. Still looking.” He frowned. “Is this love at first sight?”

This time the Queen scoffed. “None of us is stupid enough to believe in such a tale, Theon.”

Brienne frowned, even as Arya made a face. “You used to believe in such things, Sansa.”

“I used to believe in many silly things, Arya. Now I am an adult.”

***

“Why are you looking at the lass?” Gimli asked from his place behind Legolas.

“Is it that obvious?” The elf wanted to know.

“Obvious?” Gimli scoffed. “I think her sister is about to throw a dagger at you.”

It did seem to be the case. “It is difficult to explain.”

As much as he’d heard about the stories, as much as he’d seen it happen before, he’d never thought he’d meet the other half of his soul. Especially like this.

Legolas also hadn’t expected feeling this way when it happened. It was such a strong force that pulled him to her. He could not stop looking at her, even when he knew he should. His eyes kept finding her, wanting to drink the sight of her.

He couldn’t remember a single woman that was more beautiful than her, one voice that sounded better. He was becoming a fool.

“I might not be as smart as you elves think you are, but even I don’t believe it is that hard to explain.” Gimli grumbled.

“I did not think it would be this way.” He confessed.

“No man ever does, lad.” Gimli patted him on the back.

***

They stopped over a hill outside Edoras, watching the city.

“Do not look for welcome here.” Gandalf told the others.

“Lord Byron.” Sansa looked at the falcon standing on the horn of her saddle. “Go ahead, let Queen Susan know we are coming with guests.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The falcon nodded at her before shaking his wings and taking flight.

Aragorn sighed. “This is… The falcon talks.”

“Not that much, in truth.” Reep offered from his place on Arya’s shoulder. “He is a quiet one.”

Aragorn just nodded, and Boromir looked bemused.

“What should we say about you?” Sansa asked Gandalf.

“If asked, tell them you were attacked and we came to your rescue. But I do not think they will care to ask.”

“You are expecting a fight.” Arya finally seemed interested in the proceedings.

“I hope it will not come to that.” Gandalf said.

“Arya, stay with them.” Sansa asked her sister. “You were not with us initially.”

“No problem there.” Arya grinned.

***

Susan found Sansa’s people and passed along what Lord Byron had told her.

Sandor and Jaime exchanged glances. “Do we interfere?” The taller man asked.

Jaime shook his head. “Let them do whatever they wish to. If they succeed, good for us. If they fail, we can keep our story.” Sandor snorted, but nodded.

“What will you do, Your Majesty?” Jaime asked Susan.

“I need to find Éowyn. Let her know what might happen.” She took a deep breath in.

“I recommend you hurry then, my lady.” Jaime told her. “They are probably almost upon us.”

Susan nodded at the two men and left in search of Éowyn. The poor woman hadn’t been well with everything that had transpired -for obvious reasons. She’d lost her cousin, her brother had been exiled and that worm wouldn’t leave her alone.

Sansa didn’t think Éowyn needed to know she was on their side, but Susan firmly believed it was time to tell the lady everything. She needed to know there were more people on her side.

Unfortunately she could not find Éowyn before the doors were opened and a group of people entered.

“The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King.” The old man with a white beard called. He was followed by three men, a dwarf and a young woman.

Susan noticed that Sansa had stayed well behind, by the closed doors with Brienne and Theon by her side. The two queens locked gazes and Sansa shook her head at Susan, who imagined she meant to not do anything to interfere.

“Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?” The king asked in his weak voice. It was one of the first times Susan had even heard him speaking, and it was clearly under the influence of Gríma.

The man in question didn’t even pretend not to be in command, when he came down from the dais and advanced against the one called Gandalf, calling him a ‘conjurer’ and ‘ill news’.

Susan saw Gríma’s men advancing slowly, following the group from the side, but it was clear they also saw it.

Susan’s attention was brought back to the newcomers when Gríma wailed about the staff the older man was carrying. His men hurried to attack them, but the group took them on, obviously intent on letting Gandalf march toward the King.

Susan realised that those who were loyal to the King took no action, and Hama himself made no gesture to intervene in the scene.

Gandalf advanced on Théoden, proclaiming to relieve him from the spell he was under. Susan held her breath as she waited for the result, as the king’s men crept closer, following the scene.

Then a chilling laughter cut through the air.

It was charged with malice and ill intention. “You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey.” The king’s voice was much firmer, different from before.

That was not Théoden.

Gandalf shed his cloak, and for some reason this frightened Théoden, as much as it made the room lighter. Susan didn’t hear what the wizard -for he could be nothing else -was saying to Théoden, because Éowyn appeared just then.

“Uncle!” She exclaimed.

Susan captured her hand. “Wait. I think he will help your uncle.” She told the other woman.

“If I go, Théoden dies.” The presence threatened and Susan had to tighten her hold on Éowyn.

“You did not kill me.” Gandalf said. “You will not kill him.”

Susan could feel in the air the moment Gandalf’s words and power had an effect. It was instantaneous: the room felt different and so did Théoden.

It was like he recovered years from his life as Éowyn hurried to him and held his body. For the first time in a long while when Éowyn looked at him, he looked back at her.

Then he asked about his son.

***

Théodred had been put to rest a few days before. Even though the King hadn’t reacted to the news of his death, they couldn’t just leave his body as it was. Éowyn had the help of the women and men to make a funeral for her cousin. Gandalf took the King to see where his son was now laid to rest, while they tried to give him privacy.

“Are you feeling better, Éowyn?” Susan asked the lady.

“Yes. It is a relief to see his face again. Hear his voice.” The Queen of Narnia put a hand to her shoulder, but Éowyn was looking at Sansa now. “I need to thank you, my lady. Your brought them here.”

Sansa inclined her head, acknowledging what she’d said. “It was not what we were trying to do, but I am glad we could help.”

“You could have told me you were trying to help.” Éowyn pointed out.

“I supposed I could.” Sansa conceded. “And Queen Susan thought it would be better, however I did not want to risk more people knowing what we planned. It was easier to take action first.”

“I guess we can all be friends now.” Susan proposed.

Sansa let out a startled gasp. “Let us be careful there, your majesty.”

This surprised a laughter out of Éowyn. “Oh. I had not expected that answer.”

“I am starting to believe that Queen Sansa enjoys acting as if she is a cold woman, when she is anything but.” Susan arched an eyebrow in the direction of the other woman.

Sansa didn’t say anything to that, just smirked at Susan.

“I do have one question, though.” Éowyn finally said.

“Yes?”

“Why does the elf keep staring at you?”

Sansa sighed. “I do not know.”  And just as Éowyn had said, the elf was a certain distance away, but his eyes were firmly on her.

“Maybe he thinks you are pretty.” Susan teased.

“I do not believe I am that pretty.” Sansa replied primly.

Before Susan could say anything to that statement, the doors to the hall were opened and two guards came in carrying two children, followed closely by Gandalf and Théoden.

Something had happened.

Chapter Text

Edoras

After Théoden said something about a place called Helm’s Deep, he left the room with Gandalf right after him. Sansa suspected the other man - and was he really a man? - was not done trying to persuade the king.

Honestly, Sansa could well understand Gandalf and Aragorn’s frustration at Théoden. She couldn’t claim to be a strategist, but all of this seemed like a bad idea.

She’d once been in a battle where the enemy came to them. She’d hidden down in the crypts with the others, waiting for a miracle. She’d been stuck in a place when the dead rose to kill them all.

Sansa was in no hurry to repeat the experience. She didn’t even need to look at Susan to know the other woman thought the same.

“Your Grace.” Theon hurried near, then bowed when he saw who else was there. “My lords. Your Majesty. I am sorry for interrupting, but…” Now he seemed like he didn’t want to speak.

Sansa immediately knew. “Arya or Jaime?” She asked with a sigh.

Theon cleared his throat. “Both. Arya is fighting the men and Jaime is taking bets.”

Sansa took a deep breath in, before turning to men who’d stayed behind  and Susan and giving them a polite - and brittle - smile. “If you excuse me, my lords, my lady.”

She didn’t need to look behind her to know they all came after her. She’d stepped out the hall and went down the stairs, only to find Arya holding a dagger to a man’s throat.

“Arya.” She called.

Her sister looked up. “Aye?”

She glared at her sister, then her eyes moved to Jaime, who was surrounded by other men. 

“Ser Jaime?”

“Your Grace.” He waved at her. “Next one is about to start. Would you like to make a bet?”

“What I want to know is why you are doing this.” She asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, Arya started it.” Jaime said shamelessly, making the younger Stark glare at him. “Someone said she could not fight being that small, she insisted she could…” He shrugged. “I was just exploring the business opportunities.”

“They have just disappeared.” She informed them both. “Get the others, meet me in my chambers. We have something to discuss.”

***

Susan imagined that Sansa had taken her people to talk about the next steps they’d take. She’d get Helga and the others to do the same. She wasn’t convinced they should go to Helm’s Deep. Perhaps, she should go and meet her siblings in Minas Tirith.

If the people of Rohan were planning on staying still for a while, there was nothing the Narnians could do to help. It seemed to her that going to Gondor might be a better use of her time.

She’d just turned into a hallway, when she saw Gandalf coming from the opposite direction.

“My lady.” The wizard came towards her. “It is an honour to meet a Queen of Narnia.” Gandalf bowed to Susan. “Stories from your land have always reached us.”

“The honour is mine.” Susan nodded at him. “The White Wizard. It is good to know someone deserving of the title now has it.”

“You are very kind, my Queen.” Gandalf gave her a small smile. “I was told you and Queen Sansa have been helping.”

“We did what we could, which was not much.” Susan sighed. “We could not prevent Lord Éomer’s banishment.”

Gandalf nodded gravely. “You cannot carry a whole kingdom on your shoulders, your majesty. Especially when there is such malice behind the happenings in here.”

Susan nodded. “I am glad you are here and that the King is back. The question is: now what?”

“Now I would like to ask for your continuous support.” Gandalf told her seriously. “I do not believe this will be as simple as going to Helm’s Deep, which - mind you - is not easy at all.”

Susan sighed. “I was planning on going to meet my siblings in Gondor.” She admitted to him.

“I would kindly ask you to wait for a bit.” The wizard spoke. “Follow us to Helm’s Deep. I have not given up on Théoden.”

Susan frowned. “Do you think my presence there would be of any help?”

“From what I gathered, you have been great company to Lady Éowyn and you have actively tried to help this whole time. I think Théoden might be open to hearing from you.”

Susan sighed one more time. “Fine. We will go.”

Gandalf bowed his head in her direction. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Do not thank me yet. I cannot promise anything.” She pointed out.

“Friends are hard to come by in dark times, my lady. The fact that you are here is already a great promise.”

***

Éowyn hurried to Léoith’s house. They were all leaving for Helm’s Deep soon and then they’d be faced with the question of the two ‘intruders’ in the middle of the city.

She didn’t even know how to explain their presence, even though there were so many outsiders in Edoras at this point it might be unfair to judge young Percival and Lancelot. On the other hand, in those uncertain times, more strangers might just be a problem.

“I heard the news.” Léoith said as soon as she walked in. “When do we have to leave?”

“The day after tomorrow.” Éowyn twisted her fingers. “How is he?”

“He is much better, but I am not sure if good enough to walk all the way to Helm’s Deep.”

Most people would have to. They’d save carts and horses for the elderly and the sick, and -even though Lancelot was still in recovery - it’d once again bring back the question of who he was and why he was there.

“Lady Éowyn.” Percival came running into the room. “Are we really leaving?”

She touched the boy’s shoulder. “Yes. We will need to find a way to get you and Lancelot in the middle of the group.”

“We could just leave.”

It was the first time she’d seen him standing up. Lancelot was a tall man, and he seemed much recovered; his skin had more colour in it and he seemed firm on his own legs.

Apparently he was also well enough to say absurd things. “Leave?” She repeated. “Where to?”

“I do not know.” He admitted. “But we have taken enough of your time and kindness. It might be time to be on our own.”

“You cannot expect to take this boy out there!” Léoith protested. “It was a miracle you managed to arrive here. It is not safe, there are too many orcs running free.”

Lancelot turned his eyes to Percival. “You are correct. Perhaps I should leave on my own.”

“No!” Percival protested immediately.

“Calm down.” Éowyn asked the boy, before turning to Lancelot. “You are not leaving on your own.”

Lancelot frowned. “No?”

“No.” She told him firmly. “You are not recovered and it is not safe.”

“But you know it will not be easy to explain where we came from.” He pointed out. “Your people will know we are not from here.”

Then it came to Éowyn. “But you are not the only outsiders,” which she had thought about before, but now it came with a different idea. “Who is to say you are not Narnians?”

***

“We will not make to Gondor.” Jaime pointed out, looking at the map. “It is a risk to move out there right now.”

Sansa sighed. “I will send a letter to Margaery now. She should know where we are headed.”

“I do not like this.” Brienne commented.

Sandor grunted what was probably an agreement.

Theon was quiet on a corner, and Sansa turned to him. “Theon?”

“I have a bad feeling.” He told her simply. “But I do agree that there is nothing we can do at this point. From what we have heard from Arya and even the people around the city, this land is covered in orcs and uruk-hais. We stand no chance on our own.”

“That is what I feared.” She looked at Jaime. “What do you think?”

“We are evacuating a city. There will be families, children, the elderly, the sick… Not everyone here is a fighter and I do not know how big of an army is left here. Any idiot would know this will be a slow moving group. I would attack us on the way.”

“We also do not know how big the army of the enemy is.” Brienne reminded him.

“No, we do not. And, as much as I hope they are no more than a hundred untrained idiots, I would not bet our safety on a hope.”

Sansa pinched the bridge of her nose. She was getting a headache and she had no time for this. “I will write to Margaery now. You go out there and find as much information as you can. Talk to the Narnians, talk to the Rohirrim, talk to the damn wizard if you must.” And she could not believe she was saying that. “Get me whatever you can, because I need to pass on the information to her, in case…” She pressed her lips together.

Arya frowned. “Sansa.”

“In case something happens.” She finished.

The others exchanged looks, but they nodded at her and left to do what was asked of them. Only when the door closed did Sansa notice that Arya had stayed behind.

“Are you feeling unwell?” Her sister wanted to know.

“It will pass.”

Arya snorted. “Do not start acting all prissy now.”

Sansa arched an eyebrow at her sister. “I am still your Queen.”

“Only when it is convenient.” She smirked.

Sansa snorted, her lips curling up. “I will be fine. I assure you.”

“Fine.” Arya seemed to finally accept her answer. “But, Sansa, on my word, say you want to leave and I will get you out. The others would not mind and you know that.”

“I do.”

Arya gave her a firm nod and left the room.

She walked down the hallways, looking for the others, but someone else found her first.

“Lady Arya.”

“Sir Reepichip. What is the news from your side?”

“We are all going to Helm’s Deep.” He informed her. “My Queen has just decided it.”

“So has Sansa. What do you know of the enemy?”

“Nothing more than a few tales. We should find a better source.”

They exchanged a look. “The dwarf.”

***

“What do you think of all these Queens here?” Boromir asked Aragorn, once they were alone.

“I am not sure.” He admitted. “Help is help, but I do wonder what they might be interested in. They all came from far away just to be here.”

“It is bad that we need to worry about war, but now we also have politics involved.”

Aragorn was bemused. “There is always politics involved, my friend.”

“Yes. My brother is the natural diplomat between us.” Boromir had a fond smile on his face as he spoke about Faramir. “I learned it because I must, but he just had something in him.”

“It will be a great pleasure to meet Lord Faramir.” He put a hand on his shoulder. “But back to the current situation…”

“Why don’t you talk to Queen Sansa’s people?” Boromir offered. “I knew Théodred, even if not that well, so I might try and talk to the King.”

Aragorn nodded. “Let us do this.”