#burnnouts

@burnnouts

Jane had been back in New York for three days, keeping her head down and blending in with the crowd while she staked out the apartment of a HYDRA operative who, records indicated, had played a role in designing HYDRA’s memory-wiping machine. She had some questions for him, and if she had her way he was going to give her answers, whether he wanted to or not.

It hadn't surprised her, when she'd first embarked on this self-imposed mission, that so many of her targets lived in New York or D.C.; after all, both cities were major hubs, home to millions of people, not to mention the tens of thousands of guests who passed through every day. Logic alone indicated that one small fish would be much harder to pick out if it were swimming in a big school.

But that wouldn’t be enough to keep Nicholas Evans safe – not when Jane had spent the past few months striking hard at every HYDRA cell she could find, scouring their records and reports for any useful information once the local operatives were dead. She had four flash drives full of general intel at the bottom of her bag, a decoy on a cord around her neck, and the most important one – the one containing every scrap of information that she could find about exactly what HYDRA had done to her – concealed within her prosthesis, behind the useful little access hatch in her shoulder that was so hard to see if you didn't already know that it was there.

By now, she knew an awful lot about what Nicholas Evans had been up to back in the late 1980s.

With her head tipped downward and her hands in her pockets, she ambled through the streets. They were dark, but hardly empty; this part of Queens had a vibrant nightlife, and there were often clusters of people on the sidewalks in front of the restaurants and bars. To them, Jane was just another passerby, an anonymous shape not worth paying any notice to.

That was exactly what she wanted, because if she had her way, Nicholas Evans would never see her coming. The deaths of his colleagues over the past couple of months would likely have made him wary, but most of HYDRA wasn't aware yet of who was targeting them, wasn't aware that the Winter Soldier was off her leash and coming for them. Hell, they were probably still assuming that whatever Maria Hill had salvaged from the remains of SHIELD was responsible for the deaths, and Jane had no intentions of disabusing them of that notion. She would do to Evans exactly what she'd done to all his colleagues -- find him, question him, and kill him.

the young, kraken prince has snuck into robb's bed chambers long after the rest of his house has gone to sleep. no candle is held to light his way, he'd walked darkened corridors by memory and instinct alone. a hand gently settles on the eldest stark's shoulder, shaking him.

"come, stark," whispers theon - a hint of mischief tinged in his tone. "i'm sneaking out to winter town, a secret rendezvous with ros. come with me, will you?" he offers a chance to be just themselves for a few hours - no duty or titles, just them as they are.

It had not been an easy trip. Karl had been determined to keep every one of Robb's people alive that he could. He---and the Seal Prince as well---had personally packed sledges and handed out food to the sicky, but it was a four day trek through the wilderness in the bitter cold. No matter how much magic or strength he possessed, Karl couldn't carry each mortal through the woods to safety. Some, the oldest of them and the youngest, were simply unfit to make such a journey. But those that did not make it into the depths of the forest and past the barrier had died with hope in their hearts. No death was easy, but surely this was better than being ripped apart by monsters--consumed by agony and horror. Karl told himself that over and over, but it couldn't quiet the deep sorrow in his heart.

Many made it. Most made it.

More witches had met them on the other side of the gateway. The Wolf King himself was there, though none of them saw him. Fenris Beck had erected a containment zone around the gateway in case any of the Ice Folk managed to cross through, and he was waiting personally to collapse the portal for good. Karl asked about him, but the priests said he would greet King Robb and the humans later, when the gateway was sealed and the Witch Wilds were safe from monsters.

Past the perimeter of the containment zone, sky ships waited to take the mortals to their temporary homes.

"This land is cold. Like your land is cold." Karl explained as he poured both Robb and himself a horn of wine. "In spring, we build houses, but now, there are places you can stay."

Desmond would explain it better (and sober) later, but Karl thought he might like to hear it from him first. Robb and Desmond hadn't exactly hit it off.

"It is good land. Beautiful land. You will-"

He was cut off by a knock on the door and a young woman entered quietly and extended a scroll to him. She kept her eyes down cast as she said, "The Seal Prince said you'd want to see this right away."

Karl thanked her, took the scroll, and unraveled it carefully. It was a royal decree, signed with Linnea Tandy's seal. She had written it herself. He recognized the crisp, painfully perfect script anywhere. A frown tugged at his lips as he read it aloud.

Greetings from the Fox Clan, and blessings upon you. You are hereby invited to the annual Tourney of the Red Blossoms. As King of the Bear Clan, I humbly request you select only the most suitable participants from your clan to participate as this year shall be my granddaughter's first year to host the games. Each aspect of the competition has been painstakingly orchestrated by her hand from the events to the grand prize. Participants must be of sound health and mind, between the ages of twenty and fifty, and---unwed?

Karl paused at that. He wasn't sure why Desmond had thought he needed to see this immediately. Nor why Linnea would hand write the invitation... and set such odd requirements. Besides, the annual Tourney of Red Blossoms was a summer affair. It was mid-winter. He let his eyes wander across the page to the date, and sure enough, it was less than a month away. What was Linnea up to? What was Beck up to?

He resumed reading:

Alongside the usual prestige that comes with the title of champion, this years top competitors will be afforded the chance to win the ultimate prize: my granddaughter's hand in marriage.

Now it made sense. Painful, terrible sense. The letter must have come while he was away, and he hadn't thought to check his mail before meeting with Robb this evening, but Desmond was obsessed with paperwork. He must have seen. Must have known...

She was trying her best to avoid everyone so she was sulking in a corner of the room watching the others dance. When Robb walks up she shoots him a glare. "If you are here to ask for a dance you can turn around now." She warns as she is in no mood to do that. She had already done enough by being here and being in the stupid dress she refused to dance.

Arya smiles brightly at the sight of her brother. It's been a long time, too long, since she's seen him. "Robb!" She calls out his name triumphantly. Overjoyed to see him. "How are you?"

Ciri feels her heart warm at Yennefer's words. She is grateful to her mother and all she has done for her. There is no doubt that anyone who came across the sorceress and got on her bad side would pay dearly, and yet---Ciri can't help but worry about her and Geralt in return. She couldn't bear losing another person to death, and at one point, Ciri thought she almost had with parents.