Alyx VII

"It followed me home, honey," her husband said sheepishly, as if there wasn't a BIG BLACK DRAGON right behind him!

"I...I..." She couldn't speak. She couldn't think. Giants and mammoths were one thing, large hairy things to be sure, but ordinary, after a fashion. A dragon was something else.

"We're going to be hosting a Targaryen princess, I fear," he went on, as a lovely silver-haired young lady dismounted from the creature's back with Arya's help.

Well, wasn't it just one thing after another! Lady Bolton took a calming breath, though it availed her not at all. "You know, my lord, when I married you, I knew I would have to get used to many queer things, but this surpasses all!"

"I know, I know. Let's just focus on problems we can solve. The dragon has been fed, for now, and Princess Daenerys can control it, mostly." Domeric looked back on the ragged host he'd led to her doorstep. "Let's, uh, get inside. We had to march all the way back from the Wall, what's left of it, on foot. These boots are most likely a lost cause."

"Right, inside," Alyx said more to herself than to him. "The war is over, then? In the raven, you said you made a peace." How a peace could be made with demons of ice and snow, Alyx had no notion.

"That's right. One of the children, excuse me, one of the Singers of the Song of the Earth, acted as translator. We swore oaths before the gods and everything. Speaking of which, I'll be needing to speak with Mance and his folk. The deal concerns them most of all."

"Well, I'm just glad you've returned to us safe. Little Royce has been asking after you, and the other children as well. Ah, and the weather has been mad of late, snow and sun and slush. When shall the gods make up their minds? The Weeping Water is flooded again with snowmelt, though the giants dug half a hundred new channels. It's a deep, wide river now, faster flowing than ever it was."

"Hopefully things will even out. The Singer said that with the pact, a balance was restored. I'm hoping that means we'll get seasons of equal length," Dom said, kicking some of the slush off his awful, worn, rotten boots before entering the Dreadfort's north tower. After him came Alesander and Elia, Arya and Brad, Jack-o-nose, Obara, his wife, and all their Dreadfort soldiers. The flayed man badges on their surcoats were in as awful a state as her husband's boots. Most of it would have to be thrown away, she knew.

"To the great hall, I think," Alyx Bolton told the returning army. "You lot are like to catch a chill. Stand by a fire and dry off. I'll see about some hot food."

There wasn't time to exchange even pleasantries with the Targaryen princess. In this group were Umber and Karstark men who were unsure of what they might find when they returned to their own lands, and every needy guest had to be seen to. As Lady of the Dreadfort, it was her responsibility. She directed the servants in passing out tankards and goblets of hot mulled wine, and sent word down to the kitchens to prepare plain fare, and quite a lot of it. Their stores were ample, and these fighting men needed some fattening up by the looks of them. The people of the North, and all the realm besides, owed their lives to them.

Half a turn of the glass later, her husband returned with clean, dry clothes. Hopefully he'd thrown those boots away. Arya and the princess were wearing matching dresses. The fabric was pink, because everything in the Dreadfort was, and the Myrish lace about the sleeves and collar made the Targaryen girl look as pretty as a doll.

"My lady," greeted the dragon girl. Her head was about level with Alyx's chest, and her eyes seemed inclined to stay that way. Well, who could blame her? Alyx Bolton had just finished nursing a big, strong boy who had only started on solid food recently. She knew how big she was. "This is, er, a very large castle. Lord Domeric has a lordly seat!"

Arya sidled up to the princess. "Winterfell is larger, I'll grant, but the Dreadfort has no wasted space, no ruined towers. Dreadport Castle is the same, writ small. Personally, I like the style. Lord Domeric was telling me how we might feed Drogon. He suggested 'chumming' the waters with blood, fishheads, and so forth, to try to lure something big close to the surface. Then your dragon could swoop down and snatch it! Would he be alright dipping his head in the water?"

"I think so," the Targaryen said uncertainly. "We crossed the Narrow Sea in a single night, so we didn't get the chance, but I've known Drogon to eat fish when offered."

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"Great!" Arya said excitedly. "Brad and I have the run of the place, our own snug castle to ourselves, though I like visiting the Dreadfort often enough." Suddenly, she looked a little worried. "Do you like your dress? I had worried the pink would clash with your violet eyes. But, well, pink is Bolton colors, and Stark of Dreadport as well. We have pink silk, pink wool, and some pink cotton for summer dresses, though I suspect we'll not have need of those for some time."

"It's lovely," the princess assured her, "and comfortable as well. I don't know how I feel about fitting in the same dress as a maid of fourteen."

"I know I'm tall for my age!" Arya replied indignantly. "Brad likes it, I'll have you know. A tall wife means tall sons, they say."

Targaryen giggled. The sound of it was like music, tinkling chimes over flowing water. She looked up at Alyx, a cheeky grin growing on that pretty face. "Brad is your brother, I'm told. I can see the resemblance."

Was she calling Alyx fat? The insolence! Alyx Bolton was merely big boned. Alesander and Bradamar were big, strong warriors. Who could expect a girl of their same blood to be a dainty little flower? "He is. Fine matches we've made, all three. Elia is famous too, and has won tourneys in the south. A prince of Dorne is her father. She and Alesander are very happy."

The princess smiled politely. "I'm sure. Lady Lance is quite a fascinating person, I'll say. I've heard lots of talk of marriages between the North and Dorne. I should like to visit Dorne some day."

"We should!" agreed Arya enthusiastically. "My brother Jon lives in Dorne. He has three children I've never even met. They say the weather there has been just as queer."

While they talked of future plans, Alyx noticed her husband was having words with Mance and his little wildling court.

"Anyway, you can't go back. That was the agreement," Domeric said. "You have to stay here forever, you and your sons and daughters after."

"Truly?" asked the girl Ygritte, who was wild even for a wildling. "Hurray!" she cheered, dancing with the beauty Val.

Mance looked uncomfortable, and Domeric confused. "You aren't mad? Everything north of the Wall is forbidden to men from now on."

"Of course not," said Val, tall and blonde and beautiful. "These are fine, rich lands, and peaceful. Our folk are well content."

"The Domeric's justice isn't too much, neither. You stay out of hair long as we behave. I thought it would be worse in the south. The tales said you couldn't take a piss without the lord's leave," Ygritte added.

"Maybe in some places that's true," Domeric said. "I just thought you ought to know. You're here to stay. The Others want us out of their land as much as we want them out of ours. As long as we each stay in our own little corner, things should go fine."

"Fool!" thundered the red priestess. "You have doomed us all! The servants of the Great Other shall come again, in greater numbers. There can be no peace with death and darkness!" Alyx hadn't noticed her enter the hall.

"You're the fool," Arya Stark spoke up. "We could've beaten that army, but what about the next one, and the one after that? I saw their crystal city in my dreams. There are more of them, a lot more, and ten underground for every one on the surface. Fighting them all would mean a lifetime of war, and not just for the North. All the Seven Kingdoms put together might not be enough!"

Lady Melisandre dismissed her with a contemptuous wave of the hand. "Mayhaps not today, but people in another age will rue your decision, my lord. You have denied Azor Ahai his birthright. This was not your peace to make. I saw King Stannis in the flames, opposed by a dragon, and that was the last I saw." She gave the princess a dirty look. "Something is amiss here, but my powers desert me. Something happened that should not have happened. One of your dragons should've been his."

The Targaryen looked uncomfortable at the mention of the king. "I only have the one dragon, and I certainly didn't attack him. The other two were lost to me. I was waylaid by a sorcerer, a man with one eye. Anyway, it's clear I'm the prince that was promised. I woke dragons out of stone. How could he be Azor Ahai?"

The Red Woman looked thunderstruck. "You know of the prophecy?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" Targaryen answered. Melisandre had no answer to that. Alyx considered sending the priestess away. She would only cause trouble now that the war was over. She would discuss it with her husband later.