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Ygritte, Castle Black – the Wall.

Much had changed in Ygritte's life.

The redheaded archer found that experience with death from a couple of weeks ago so distant now, ever since that experience with the beast disguised as a man who had killed Orell and nearly killed her and Tormund.

And ever since Ygritte had been stolen by her new man, Aemon Targaryen.

A powerful name, for a powerful man without a doubt.

Ygritte was not aware of how titles worked among the Southerners. To be honest, she cared little about it, but even in her ignorance, she knew that Aemon was an important and powerful person.

All she had to do was observe the way he moved, and she was not only referring to that magnificent carriage, filled with the most incredible luxuries she had ever seen, or the contingent of soldiers who accompanied him everywhere.

But rather the sway of his walk, his eyes always alert and his penetrating, solemn gaze observing everything around him in a calculating manner.

He was… extremely attractive to the young redhead.

Inevitably, what had to happen happened. Aemon stole her, and from then on, there was only one word with which Ygritte could be described.

His Whore.

Aemon fucked her every morning when he woke up, causing the fierce woman Ygritte was to transform into a needy and submissive bitch before his desires, always making sure to deposit his seed inside her, leaving her exhausted, dominated, and conquered in his enormous and comfortable bed. She had the rest of the day completely free, usually spending it practicing with her new bow, chatting with Tormund, or learning to read at Aemon's command, only to end her nights by being fucked by her man once again.

It was a simple life, much less dangerous than the one she was accustomed to in the North. Here, she did not have to hunt her food and cook it herself; instead, it was brought to her room, perfectly warm and delicious. She had tasted wine, cider, and an endless number of drinks she did not know, to the point that her previous extremely thin figure had begun to disappear.

Under Aemon's attentions, the redhead's small breasts had grown considerably, much to her satisfaction, and judging by the amount of time Aemon spent playing with them, also to her man's satisfaction. Her ass was fatter and bounced with a hypnotic sway every time Aemon possessed her as his woman. Her hair was no longer tangled and brittle, but silky, strong, and long.

Her old furs were gone. Aemon had burned them on the spot, declaring that they belonged to an old Ygritte. Now she proudly wore a black tunic with a white cloak that kept her much warmer than her old garments ever had.

Overall, life had improved greatly since Aemon stole her, and to be honest, she was in no hurry to return to the North, and she was sure Tormund wasn't either.

Ygritte rode Aemon's powerful horse, clinging to her man's strong, well-built torso while absentmindedly looking toward the Crows Aemon had taken prisoner.

Still remembering her man's actions in this… Mole Town with amusement.

Flashback.

"Everything ready?" Aemon asked solemnly, causing Ygritte, Tormund, and Viserys to nod softly, while the soldiers who would escort them prepared the carts with the supplies Aemon's father had sent for the Crows.

However, as they were preparing to leave, a loud crash followed by screams and pleas caught Ygritte's attention. She could not help but frown when she saw a trio of Crows emerge from a building, all three men laughing as they dragged a nearly naked young woman by her hair into the snow.

"PLEASE, STOP!" the young woman begged through her tears, while the animals only laughed harder as the supposed leader stepped forward, displaying a malicious and rotten smile toward the young woman.

"Who the fuck do you think you are to refuse to service me?" the pathetic man spat furiously, causing the helpless woman to cry harder before answering.

"I…I only clean the brothel! I'm not… AHHHHG!" she screamed in agony as the leader delivered a brutal blow to her face, sending her to the ground amid the laughter of the pathetic men.

"SHUT UP, BITCH! You have cunt and you work in a brothel, you're a whore!" the creature said as he began unbuttoning his tunic, and to Ygritte's disbelief, it did not seem as though anyone was going to do anything about it.

With only one exception.

Ygritte's man, Aemon.

Who was already walking with determination toward where the incident was taking place.

Ygritte watched with evident satisfaction as her man delivered a powerful kick to the Crow's body, followed by two powerful punches, so powerful that a fountain of blood erupted from the face of the beast disguised as a man, sending him to the ground, groaning in pain.

"Enough," Aemon spat, his face cold and his gaze furious as he watched the stunned man struggle to get back on his feet after the attack.

Immediately, the companions released the terrified young woman, their faces filled with fury.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, idiot? We're Rangers of the Night's Watch, and we—AGHHH!"

The Crow's words were interrupted by Ygritte's furious man, who did not hesitate to throw another punch into the coward's face, the man who only moments before had the young woman subdued, sending him to the ground with the most pathetic scream Ygritte had ever heard.

Faced with these actions, the other coward, now terrified and afraid, tried to get away from the place, only for Ghost to leap from the crowd, biting his arm and throwing him to the ground, directly into the perfect position for Aemon to stomp on the man's face, knocking him unconscious.

At Aemon's actions, all the kneelers present began whispering among themselves, looking toward her man with curiosity, which transformed into astonishment and relief when the direwolf banner appeared with the soldiers escorting Aemon.

"Chiara, these animals are our prisoners. Tie their hands and legs and secure them to the horses. They will walk with us to the Wall before being executed. If they behave like criminals, they will be treated as such," Aemon ordered, causing the warrior to nod softly, while all the inhabitants of the town looked at him with hope and relief in their eyes.

Flashback End.

"Move, dogs," Chiara spat, pulling the chain that had the exhausted Crows tied to it. They were tired, hungry, and begging for mercy over and over again.

Obviously, they found none. Aemon had been clear, and the walk through the merciless cold was part of these men's punishment. Although, to be honest, Ygritte did not know whether they were begging for the punishment to end or for their lives, remembering that Aemon had said they would be executed the moment they reached the Crows' castle.

And judging by the immense and terrifying sight of the Wall, as well as the tiny castle at its feet, the journey was over.

"We have arrived, Castle Black," Ygritte's man said solemnly as he slowly guided the caravan toward the gates.

Aemon and Viserys had dismounted from their respective horses, and to the redhead's curiosity, her man's uncle now wore his hair black.

"For safety," were the words the young warrior had used, although Ygritte did not really understand the reason.

Seconds after their arrival, the castle gates opened, allowing the supply carts to enter the castle's courtyard.

"So… this is Castle Black," Viserys said to himself, observing everything around him with a frown, shivering from the cold to Ygritte's amusement.

"The infamous nest of the Crows… I imagined it bigger," Tormund said, now wearing a heavy leather coat with an axe on his back, watching as their arrival caused an uproar in the courtyard.

Ygritte even caught sight of a tiny boy with a red cloak and golden hair at the top of the castle, but she paid him no attention, because before the Crows could react, Aemon began giving orders.

"Well, we've arrived. Bring a log to execute these vermin," he ordered calmly, causing the soldiers accompanying him to obey at once, while Chiara dragged the pleading and pathetic men toward the center of the courtyard.

"No, please!!"

"MERCY!! MERCY!!"

"NOO!!"

The rest of the Crows watched the three men with suspicion and some fear, as they were forced to kneel before Aemon, who observed them impassively.

Ygritte watched incredulously as the men began crying upon seeing one of the lycants carrying a large, heavy log, placing it directly in front of Aemon, who had drawn his sword, preparing to do what had to be done.

Until…

"What does this mean?" shouted an old voice, pushing its way through the group of Crows, revealing an old and bitter man with gray hair and a face only a mother could love. His skin was pale and he wore an unkempt beard, observing the three Crows on the ground, who looked at him with hope before focusing their gazes on Aemon, frowning with hatred at the direwolf banners.

The newcomer growled.

"Release these men. Who are you?" he demanded.

Aemon did not even flinch. He simply pushed one of the Crows onto the log, preparing him for execution.

"Me? My name is Jon Snow. I bring a shipment for the Watch and a message for the Old Bear," he said as he took his sword in both hands, to the terror of the man before him.

Ygritte and Tormund were confused upon hearing that name, but they had no time to ask about it, as they watched the decrepit old man fill his face with hatred before stepping forward and drawing his sword.

"Who the hell do you think you are, bastard? Those men belong to the Watch and—"

However, the man's words were interrupted by Chiara, who, with speed and ferocity, moved through the crowd, grabbing the old man by the neck and, to the disbelief and terror of everyone present, lifting the old Crow with one hand.

The reaction was instantaneous. The rest of the cowards took several steps backward, only to helplessly watch as the powerful warrior threw the impertinent old man to the side of the block, where the leading Crow, the one who had struck the young woman in Mole Town, was hunched over and crying, begging for mercy.

"Ser Alliser!! Please! Mercy! I…"

However, the man's words were drowned out by Aemon, who raised his sword and intoned.

"In the Name of Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Shield of the North, I declare you guilty of breaking your oath to the Night's Watch, sentencing you to Die."

Ygritte watched as the man gasped, undoubtedly preparing to beg, only for Aemon to separate his head from his neck an instant later, causing all the blood to bathe the face of the subdued old man, who could only stare in disbelief and helplessness, courtesy of Chiara's boot on his head.

Beside her, Tormund could not help but snort and whisper.

"Your man has the Crows terrified. Don't let him go to the true North or they'll try to steal him from you," the redhead joked, causing Ygritte to roll her eyes without responding.

The other two executions were carried out in silence. Aemon cleaned his sword on the cloak of one of the dead soldiers before looking at everyone gathered with an impassive and firm gaze.

"These three vermin were found in Mole Town, about to rape a young peasant girl, something that… according to the people of Mole Town, is quite common among the honorable brothers of the Watch," he said with evident mockery in his voice.

Ygritte watched with fascination as Aemon dominated the entire courtyard with his mere presence before pointing toward the nearest guard, a small boy with brown, curly hair.

"What is your name?" he asked, causing the boy to let out a surprised squeak before answering with a stammer.

"I… I'm Olly… my Lord," the boy said submissively.

Aemon merely nodded and ordered.

"Call the Lord Commander. I have a message from Lord Stark for him, as well as supplies for the Watch," Aemon ordered, while making a gesture, giving his men the signal to settle inside the castle.

"Look at them, like fawns before a predator," Tormund said with amusement, watching as the Crows moved out of the way of the imposing warriors in white and gray armor serving Aemon, who had practically taken possession of the castle.

Apparently, Ygritte's stay in the Crows' nest would be… more interesting than expected.

Margaery Tyrell, Highgarden – the Reach.

"Oh, it's beautiful, Marge!" said her little cousin Dana, who held up the beautiful dress Margaery had commissioned for her.

The Golden Rose of Highgarden smiled radiantly, watching with great warmth as the little girl played around the room with complete innocence, entirely unaware of the tense political atmosphere of the Kingdom.

Margaery remembered that time, the happiness of beauty and ignorance, before the Rose entered the Game of Thrones, before every smile or gesture became a political move rather than a genuine gesture of kindness and compassion.

Like her weekly excursions to the village of Root, situated at the foot of Highgarden, Margaery enjoyed tending to and managing the orphanage in the small town. Her heart filled with peace and warmth whenever she saw the children's faces, filled with hope and relief.

Of course, where Margaery saw a gesture of kindness and selflessness, her grandmother Olenna saw manipulation and opportunities, using Margaery's visits as a political tool to give House Tyrell a positive reputation throughout the Kingdom.

And speaking of her grandmother.

"Grandmother Olenna! Look at the dress Marge gave me!" said little Dana with a radiant smile.

Margaery watched her grandmother roll her eyes warmly and smile at the little Lady before responding.

"It's a beautiful dress. Why don't you go show it to your mother?" Lady Tyrell said naturally, evidently wanting to get rid of the girl gently.

Although, to Margaery's surprise and amusement, Dana simply rolled her eyes and replied.

"So you want to talk to Marge, I understand… I thought you had come for my name day. I won't bother you anymore, Lady Tyrell," said little Dana, saying goodbye to Margaery with a hug and completely ignoring Olenna, much to the latter's annoyance and pride.

Once they were alone, the woman spoke.

"She's an insolent little girl who always says exactly what she thinks. I like her, and she has potential. You should take her under your wing," Olenna said softly, as she sat beside Margaery and offered the Golden Rose a parchment.

Margaery rolled her eyes, but took the object as she answered.

"She's extremely bright. Perhaps in a couple of years," she said softly and sweetly as she began reading the message, causing her eyes to widen more and more with surprise.

"Is this real?" she asked softly, walking toward the balcony of her room and observing the beauty and immensity of the Reach's plains.

The very same plains that, before long, would apparently be filled with soldiers, Margaery thought as she looked at the note again.

"Completely real. Aemon Targaryen has emerged from the North, accompanied by Queen Rhaella, Prince Viserys, and Princess Daenerys, while the northern troops consolidate at Moat Cailin, including the Dragon King's personal army," her grandmother said calmly, walking toward the balcony and leaning against the stone structure, observing Margaery carefully.

"What will we do now?" the Golden Rose asked, looking at her grandmother with determination, her face solemn now that war was on the outskirts.

Her grandmother simply smiled and answered calmly.

"Now? Now we will attend the Tournament in King's Landing to celebrate Eddard Stark's appointment as Hand of the King, dear. Much is happening in the capital, and we cannot fall behind," Lady Olenna said with determination, causing Margaery to nod.

"One last thing, dear," her grandmother said, drawing the attention of the Rose of Highgarden.

"You have a dragon to dazzle. Use every single one of your weapons. From what I've heard… Aemon Targaryen is not easy to impress," the old woman said, causing Margaery to nod softly as she looked toward the horizon.

The pieces of the game were moving… The dragon lurked in the shadows, the Wolf prepared to sink its teeth into the Stag's neck, and the Lions were running out of allies.

The visit to King's Landing would be… very interesting.

She had much to prepare.