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Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Crypts of wolves

Chapter 1: Crypts of wolves

My Watch has Ended.That was the last thought Jon had after trying to call for his wolf. That call was a plea more than anything. A hope. That Ghost would come with help so he could go fight for his sister. To defend the watch from the Boltons. It was a fancy to think it would have been fine. That he could have fought to save his sister, to avenge his family. It didn't matter at this point,my watch had ended,at this point there should be peace.

Jon got his nightmares instead. He got a trip to the crypts of Winterfell. It was almost the same nightmare that haunted him most of his life.So, this is death? A reminder of the place I never truly belonged.He could see the old ironwood door before him leading to the crypt. Jon didn't want to go down there, not in death. It might have been fine if he were a Stark but that's the one thing the crypts always reminded him of.I'm not a Stark, I never have been. Not even in Death.Though Jon's opinion didn't matter in this nightmare. It never did when the doors opened. Jon didn't want to go in, but he had to. Jon felt his body move towards the crypts. Jon also tasted blood in his mouth.

It felt different to normal though, it was like he was on all fours. Looking down he could see white paws. He was ghost.A Direwolf has more rights to be in this castle the I do.Jon had come to terms with his bastardry but the longing to be a Stark never left, not truly. Walking down the steps brought him closer to the dim lights in front of each Lord and King of winter which lit the crypt. It was unnerving to see it all lit, one normally had to walk with a torch to see the statues of the former Starks of Winterfell. He walked past them all; Brandon the Burner, Brandon the Shipwright, Cregan the old man of the north, Theon the hungry wolf. They would be all there, stretching from Brandon the builder to Grandfather Rickard, Uncle Brandon and Aunt Lyanna. Jon doubted that this nightmare would be kind enough for Father and Robb's statues to be there. It would have saddened him, even though it was their rightful place. Jon tasted blood again. They didn't truly deserve to be there as young as they were.

He walked aimlessly through the crypts looking at each Stark, growing older as he walked when heard them. It was the voices that had always marked the end of his dreams. When life afforded him the luxury of waking up. He could hear the voices of Robb and Father; sounding like they were at a feast. He'd heard it before, as if they were calling him to join but he knew he didn't belong. It went dark, but he kept walking. It was all that was allowed. The voices got louder and louder as he walked closer. Jon couldn't hear what was actually being said though. More voices could be heard, sounding like Bran and Rickon. They were dead too. Maybe this nightmare would end happily, joining his family in death. The voices got louder and angrier, as if whatever talk the voices were having had turned ugly. That went on until he heard her voice.Lady Catelyn. he heard the cold words of Lady Catelyn's words, "I don't need a bastard's absolution, I wish it was you." Then silence. Silence, Darkness and a small drip of blood from his mouth. Even in death Lady Catelyn had the final say.Even in death she would deny my family.Even in death she wished it was me who had died before everyone else. If only she knew I would have died for all of you to live.Jon would have shed a tear at that if he could.

Jon could only keep walking in the dark though. It felt like an age before light returned. Before he walked into a large room in the crypts, torches on all walls with statues at each side and a throne. A throne for the Kings of Winter. Jon wondered if this was an actual part of Winterfell's crypts. Maybe in its depths. That thought had left Jon when he saw that the throne of winter was occupied. The man had a large build and he could see the brown hair and grey eyes. He was a Stark, but not the one he had hoped to see. He was young as well, he hadn't aged. Walking closer he realised it was a Stark he was familiar with, not a one lost to history. Not a one with a weathered statue. It was a face that his father had called a brother.

Jon didn't know if he could speak in this wolf form. He was in the form of Ghost, a wolf that had never howled. He doubted if he could speak but tried, "Uncle Brandon?"

To his surprise he had spoken with his own voice, and looking down he could see he was on two legs. He was himself again. The Stark laughed and clapped his hands, getting up from the winter throne.

"The most recent Uncle Brandon in the Stark line!"

His Uncle's voice, with his northern accent like his own was deeper than Father's, and a lot more joyful. He was full of life for a dead man. He had a big smile, a wolfish one.

"It's good to finally meet you Jon! I've been waiting a long time to meet you! I wish it was under better terms but we can't always get what we want I suppose."

Jon was taken aback at that. He hadn't expected him to say that. It was sincere though. Jon could feel that, "I'm not sure how else we could have met Uncle Brandon."

Brandon laughed, "Aye you're right, we could only ever meet in death. I'd just hoped we'd have gotten to meet with you old and grey, dying happy…"

Brandon stopped for a moment, his face falling into a scowl "Not betrayed by your own men for doing what was right for the North. And the Watch."

For doing what was right.Jon didn't think someone had said that. He had thought he'd have been branded an oath breaker in death. A black bastard who had forsaken his vows. Vindication wasn't something Jon thought death was going to give him.You Know Nothing Jon Snow.

"Why are we here? What is this?" Jon asked

Brandon's smile returned a bit, though his eyes looked serious. He looked like Father in that moment, "As to what this is, well to you this has been your nightmare, the so-called proof that you're not a Stark. For me, and every other Stark of Winterfell, it's a place where long-dead Starks hold a connection to the living. It's a place to impart knowledge. In life and in death with each statue and spirit of the Starks. You usually only see it in your dreams. You know the words of the North?"

"The North remembers." Jon said solemnly. It was a strange comfort to say those words. A constant even in death.

Brandon's smile grew, but the eyes were fixed on him, "Exactly ma boy! The North Remembers! That is why we're here. The North needs reminding and I'm here to help you with that Jon. The North has been bled by Southerners, Freys, Damn Boltons and the others are coming!"

"But I'm dead. How am I to help as a corpse? I failed when I was alive." Jon said sadly/

Brandon laughed, "Aye you are dead for now. But the Old Gods have decided to speak on that matter though. Once this is over, you'll be returned to life, a matter of hours since the act. Not like those creatures that the others make, and not like the ones those red priests make.

He stopped for a moment and looked hard at him, "You'll have the life you had before. The scars from the knives will remain but it'll show your watch has ended. The North needs reminding and you're the son of house Stark to do it Jon."

That was a shock to Jon, he was to be returned to the living. He wasn't sure he wanted to though.

"But Why me though? Why not my brothers instead? Why not Robb? Why not a trueborn Stark?"

Brandon cursed, "Damn Tully bitch!"

The words seemed to echo throughout the crypt, like a battle cry.

Brandon looked at him again, "Jon, you're the only man of house Stark to do it! Robb is too far gone and made too many mistakes in the South. Sansa and Arya are spread to the winds, both forgotten who they are. And Bran and Rickon are too young."

Jon didn't understand how is Uncle could have this much faith in him.

Brandon then gave a sly smirk, "Besides, Bran and Rickon are alive so I think bringing them back from the dead is a bit pointless. I'm surprised you didn't realise that from your wolf dreams."

They were alive.It couldn't be.He had felt their wolves in his dreams as Ghost. He just thought only the wolves had survived.

"Where!?" Jon shouted, it was half a growl.

Brandon's laugh returned, louder than before, "Hahaha, that's it! There's the Wolfblood! That call for life! I knew you weren't ready to join us in death. I'd told Ned as much!"

Jon felt another growl escape from him, "Where!? This is no joke!"

Brandon chuckled, "It isn't no, I'm just happy son that you've got your will to fight! I wouldn't joke with you on the pack Jon. Bran's beyond the wall, sadly having to do a duty that we can't intervene in if the long night to come is to be stopped. Rickon though, he's safe on Skagos, protected by his wolf, a woman of the free folk, and the full might of Skagos. Stannis' former hand had been sent by Manderly to go retrieve him, to put a Stark in Winterfell. The boy's got a savage nature. Another Theon the Hungry Wolf in the making that boy when he becomes a man. A true Prince of Winter!"

Jon could hear the pride in his voice at that. He doubted father of what Rickon would become.

Before Jon could give his thoughts on the matter, his uncle continued.

"But the boy will only be a savage without a Cregan to guide him. And a Brandon the Breaker to beat back the Others. A king of winter. That's what you are. You've got the makings of one Jon. I saw the way you handled the Karstarks. I saw who you've treated with the free folk. Hells, I saw what you did with Mance's child! And your advice to Stannis was more than sound! A damn shame he didn't listen and only marched with the Karstarks, his sell swords and Southerners or he would have won!"

Jon was dumbfounded at the man's confidence him. The man spoke with more certainty than anyone before him. He didn't know who it could be true given the circumstances.

"But I died for all of that, how can I be Cregan come again if all that I did got me killed!" He bellowed into the hall, the noise bouncing off the winter throne and the statues. Jon could taste the blood in his mouth again. He went to wipe his mouth of it instinctively.

Brandon simply shrugged, then put a hand on his shoulder "You're right there. You just didn't trust your instincts Jon. You didn't listen to Ghost. You're a warg and an extension of each other. You'll have to trust that when you get back, Mind when you do come back, you'll feel a lot more wolfish. It'll be natural to follow that instinct and your bond."

Jon didn't know if that was true, he'd had trouble with that gift of his.You know nothing Jon Snow.

"Am I in Ghost now?" Jon asked, feeling he was right.

Brandon grinned, "Aye, most of you is, its why you keep getting spurts of blood out your mouth. Tormund, Val and Edd let him out. He or both of you have been savaging those who murdered you. He's guarding your body from the red witch and the Queen with the rest of the free folk and brothers of the watch. When you get back, you'll be taking some of that wolfishness with you. Give you that instinct to take back the North!"

"You really think I can do it don't you." Jon stated, it was hard to refute that his uncle was lying.

Brandon nodded, his face turning grim like his father, "That I do Jon. It takes a hard man to lead the North. My father was that in most regards, though blinded by Southern ambitions. I was too wild and Ned was too honour bound from living with the Arryn Lords. That honour hurt Robb in the end. Ned inspired loyalty but, in some ways, he forgot that our way is the old way. The North needs Starks of old. Kings in the North and Kings of Winter. And who better to bring that back than a Snow of House Stark who knows the pain of death?"

Father never said much about his siblings, barring Benjen; but he did say Brandon was a charmer. Jon couldn't help but agree with that. He knew how to sway people. Jon nodded at his Uncle,

"Then I'll do it Uncle Brandon. Winter is coming."

Brandon's face lit up again, "I had no doubt that you would Jon! You'll make us all proud!"

"Why are you the one telling me this though?" Jon asked abruptly.

Brandon turned grim again, "Well, I know Robb and Ned would have spoken to you. But to talk with the living in dreams and these unique circumstances, their bones need to be at Winterfell. They do say they are sorry though. That much they told me."

"There Must always be a Stark at Winterfell." Jon said sadly.

"Aye, that there must be. But the more important reason is because I wanted to meet my son before Ashara Dayne. I've wanted to meet you for a long time."

If Jon had had a beating heart in this crypt it had stopped.You know nothing Jon Snow.

"I'm sorry to be blunt there Jon. I always have been."

"Why did he lie?" Jon asked. He hoped it didn't sound like a child.

Brandon gave a sad smile, "Because you're my bastard son. A Snow but a one that would have been a larger threat than Ned's in the eyes of the South. A southerner like Lady Catelyn would have demanded you leave Winterfell as soon as possible, thinking you were a worse threat. Ned knew that and couldn't bare to lose someone else of his blood. He'll always be your Father. I'm just happy to meet you."

Jon should have been angry at the revelation that the one constant in his life had been taken from it. He wasn't Ned Stark's son. At least not by birth. Instead though, he felt a bit of peace. Jon had gotten an honest answer for once. His shoulders seemed to untense for once.

"And my mother?" Jon asked tentatively. He'd heard the rumours.

Brandon's sad smile stayed, "Ask Howland Reed. He'll tell you the full story. Its better to come from him on that matter."

There was a moment of silence between the two in the crypts, oddly peaceful for Jon. He'd rarely gotten that in life.

Brandon ended it with a small smile "Right son, I believe its time for you to return. You've been dead a few hours back there. Its time you returned."

Brandon put his hand out, "Its been a pleasure son. Go be the King of Winter. I look forward to your victories to come."

Jon grabbed it firmly, "I will… and Thank You Father."

He deserves to here that once. Ned may have been my father all my life. But in death he gave me peace.

Brandon's smile grew, "With pleasure! Go give them Hell! Winter is coming."

"Winter is coming"

Those were Jon's first words as his eyes opened, the first howl Ghost had ever given bringing him back to this world.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Execution

Chapter 2: Execution

Hope you all enjoy, feel free tae comment!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Edd

The Howl was a piercing one. That was Edd's first thought as he heard it. It sounded powerful too. It had shocked him and the group he was with, standing over the body of the late Lord Commander. They all knew that the Direwolf of Jon Snow, Ghost, was a silent one. It had never howled in its life. The Lord Commander had told him that he wondered if it was another reason for its mother to abandon it to death. It couldn't howl in answer to its mother. Edd wondered if the wolf had snapped at Jon's death. He'd seen it tear through Bowen Marsh and the killers of the Lord Commander after letting the wolf out like a vengeful son or brother.

Edd was wrong though when he saw the Lord Commander's eyes open, speaking a single sentence,

"Winter is Coming."

The words of House Stark were spoken as almost a snarl, almost a howl, it sounded feral. The Lord Commander's eyes flashed a deep red. Edd knew that colour. It was the colour of his wolf's eyes. It was the colour of the Weirwood Trees and the eyes of their faces. Edd had been raised on the faith, not that he was a believer, but he had been of the North long enough. He could see the signs of the old gods. Edd, Val and Tormund all stared at Jon Snow, clearly on edge, they'd all seen the dead at some point or another, though Edd had never heard one speak. They were worried he'd turned to them, watching as his Weirwood red eyes were fading in colour.Please don't turn blue.Edd didn't want to see a fellow brother and friend turn into a plaything of the others. To his relief, he watched the eyes turn grey, staring at the three of them and his wolf.

"Jon, is that you in there?" Edd asked tentatively.

Jon turned his attention to him solely. His face still looked feral. It looked wolfish. The commander nodded at him, slowly getting up, gripping his sword firmly,

"Aye Edd, I'm not touched by the others."

Edd heard Tormund's laugh, always booming, "HAR! Of course, its him Crow, the Others and their minions don't speak!"

He's gotten over the shock of man returning from death quickly.Edd thought to himself. Val didn't look it though.

Jon looked at the group, "Where's the Queen and her Red Witch?"

Edd could hear the snarl again. He answered, knowing the Lord Commander would want an answer.

"After hearing of Stannis' death they marched outside of Castle Black. They left us to find your killers to make a pyre for their Red God. A small group tried to fetch your body for that."

Val spoke darkly, "We killed those though."

Jon spat in the ground, "Tormund, go gather the free folk and Wun-Wun. The Red Witch and the Queen need to be dealt with. Edd, get the brothers of the watch as well. They're to come and aid their former commander."

Former Commander. His Watch has Ended.

"Is that wise King Crow? You've only just… returned" Val asked, almost a tentatively as he had. She was nervous for once. He'd never seen that on her.

Jon looked at her, giving a grin that he imagined Ghost would give, "The Old Gods have fixed me fine Val. There's work to be done."

The three simply nodded at him as they watched the former commander of the watch pet his wolf, giving another piercing howl, almost bouncing off the Wall and Castle Black. They weren't going to argue with a dead man.

The Knights that Stannis left at the wall were only a short distance from Castle Black. They clearly intended to come back. By the looks of it they needed the space to make a clearing… for a pyre. The group of free folk and black brothers could see the fire once they had left Castle Black. At least they could when they weren't stealing glances at Jon Snow and muttering amongst themselves. The man returned from the dead was something hard to ignore. Some of them probably didn't believe Jon had returned. Some may have believed that he'd only been wounded. But when they'd seen him after being gathered, with the former commander refusing to wear a tunic, showing the fatal wounds that killed them. They'd scarred perfectly, with the scars looking like branches. It was proof of a man returned from the dead. He'd remained without his tunic throughout the march, showing the scars as they marched towards the pyre, with his Direwolf close. The two looked almost merged. That was what Edd thought as he walked beside his friend.

It didn't take long for them to reach the pyre, with knights to the left and right. They'd moved faster when they heard the screams and the chanting. The closer they got to the pyre, the scream and chants got louder. As they arrived, Edd learnt where the screams were coming from. The pyre had been built to be large, almost 7 feet tall, with the Red Witch and the Queen chanting to the Red God. He could hear them chanting for the Prince that was promised. They had a lad in chains with a gag, trying to get to the pyre. At the top of the pyre was a screaming girl being surrounded by flames, slowly encroaching towards her. Edd looked in horror at the sight. The only girl at the wall was the Princess Shireen and she was close to being burnt. Ghost howled in response to the sight, with Jon giving a snarl, bringing all the knights attention to him. They all stared in shock at the Former Lord Commander. They could see the scars. The knights were nervous, and so was the Red Witch by the shocked look.

Jon only looked at her for a moment before turning to Wun-Wun, motioning towards the girl. The giant ran towards the pyre. One knight went to strike at the giant's leg but Ghost barrelled at the man, biting at his throat. Edd didn't hear Jon give the wolf the order to defend the giant. None of the other knights tried to help their fallen comrade or attack the giant as he effortless picked up the girl before the flames could get to her, taking the wooden stake she was attached to with her. The Queen gave a scream,

"You dare interfere Bastard! You Dare interrupt our work to return your rightful King!"

Jon looked at her hard. To Edd, it was a wolf eyeing up prey.

"Take all the knights as prisoners. If they fight back kill them. Apprehend the Queen and her Red Witch. They're to be executed."

Nobody disobeyed Jon's word. The feral growl imbued every word he spoke. The words felt like ice.

The Queen screeched, "Someone kill the bastard!"

One knight was foolish enough to try. Edd watched as the knight tried to charge at Jon who simply stepped to the side and cut his head off in one swing. The blood drenched the ground and knights near their fallen comrade. That had brought the Queen's screams to a halt. The other knights present let themselves get grabbed by Jon's forces. They knew a lost cause when they saw one. Edd watched as the knights were taken captive by his brothers. He watched as members of the free folk grabbed the queen and her Red Witch. Edd noticed that the shocked witch was now smiling.I wonder why? Jon's going to kill her, that much is obvious to any sane man.

Edd watched the Lord Commander give his ultimatum to the knights that had been put in chains in the courtyard of Castle Black, with a face like stone and a snarl permanently etched in it. To his side were the Queen and the Red Witch, both chained with their heads resting on blocks.

"You are all charged with the attempted murder of the Princess Shireen of the House Baratheon. Any who do not wish to take the black for your crimes will be executed alongside your monarch and priestess. Any who demand trial by combat will die by my hand and your entrails will be offered to the Old Gods. Does anyone wish to die by a bastard of House Stark?"

Edd watched as nobody dared to stand up.My new brothers it seems, now I can add zealots to the list of company.Edd mused gloomily.

Jon took a long look at the knights, "Good, now for the executions."

Edd saw Jon look Queen Selyse in the eye, "I Jon Snow, Bastard of House Stark and Former Commander of the Watch sentence you, Queen Selyse, to die. Any last words?"

"This is treason!" The Queen shouted.

Edd watched as Jon nodded and swung the sword. It was a clean beheading. Jon moved towards the Red Witch.

"Melisandre, I sentence you to die as your Queen any last words?"

"My God brought you back Jon Snow. You'd be a fool to let me die. I even warned you of traitors"

Edd watched as Jon growled at the woman, then spoke firmly, "You did warn me witch. But know that the Old Gods brought me back. Your Red God did nothing but try and burn a child to death. Hope that your Red God claims you, mine may not speak but I know they'll be wrathful."

Jon swung Longclaw again, taking the Red Witch's head off. The bodies were to be offered to the heart tree. Jon had told Edd on the walk back. Edd looked on as his friend walked to him, face still stony.

"Edd, I name you Lord Commander of the Watch until an election. All of Stannis' guard are to be excluded in it. My Watch has ended."

Edd didn't like the sound of the command, "You're naming me Lord Commander?"

Jon nodded, "Aye, I trust you to lead the watch. Recall Grenn and Pyp as well. Have allies close to you."

"Where are you going then?" Edd asked, having a feeling already of where.

Jon gave a savage grin, "Winterfell Edd. I have squids to kill and flayed men to tear apart. Winter is coming and with-it wolves."

Edd looked at his friend. His friend was still there but he knew things were different. He had a wolf in him and a thirst for vengeance. Edd would have shivered if he weren't his friend. This was something that bordered on ancient.

Edd could only agree with the former lord commander, "Aye Jon, winter is coming."

Jon's savage grin grew wider. And the White wolf Howled.

Bit of a slower one but it establishes what's happened at the wall, gets it all done and dusted.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 3: Prey

Hope you all enjoy, feel free tae comment!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Asha

Asha didn't expect the slaughter that came. It had been peaceful since Deepwood Motte had been taken, her Iron Born had grown complacent. The War of the Five Kings had left them untouched by the Wolves of the North. The Northerners had their own problems to deal with that made Deepwood Motte a lesser concern. It had given her time and comfort, a place of refuge after her failed attempt at becoming Queen of the Iron Islands. Her uncle Euron had taken that title. She didn't want to get in his way, not yet at least.When he dies from his foolishness and Victarion from his "vengeance" I'll be their only option.For now, she could wait in the Motte. That ended with the screams that came in the dead of the night.

She should have realised that something was wrong. The Wolfswood that surrounded the Motte had gradually grown louder. The wolves and their howls had always been heard in the night. Asha had gotten used to it. But then the howls were coming more frequently, day and night. It was almost constant. The sounds were piercing, almost haunting. She'd lost a large portion of scouts and hunters that she'd sent to investigate it. Most didn't come back, and the ones that did said that they'd found their bodies savaged by wolves. She ordered her Reavers to stay away from it. Asha should have taken that as a cue to leave the Motte but she thought against it. They were only wolves and there was nothing the Iron Born needed in the forest.Besides, where could I go anyway?Lord Harlaw might have been an option but she already had Lady Sybille Glover' children there as hostages. Lady Glover was in the Motte. Her assurance for when the Northerners came. A bargaining chip for her own plans.

Tonight though, what plans she had, had been shattered. She woke to screams in the middle of the night in the Motte. Asha hurried out of her bed, getting her armour on as quickly as possible. By the time she got ready, axe and dirk in hand, the screams had become deafening. It was clearly a panic.We're being attacked.As she rushed out of the Ironwood Keep, she was met with a slaughter. There were bodies everywhere at the wooden walls, all of them Iron Born. She didn't see in the dim light of the torches a body with armour that could indicate that they weren't hers. Asha looked around to see her Iron Born fleeing from a group of Northmen, more were climbing over the walls. Asha's stomach dropped,The Wolves have come.She watched the group of Iron Born get dropped by the Northmen, battle axes and swords cutting them to pieces. Not a single Northmen dropped.

Qarl the Maid, her fuck, ran out of the keep, clearly hearing the same thing from wherever he had drunkenly slept.

"How in the hells did we get caught off?!" Qarl yelled.

"The Northmen must have been the ones taking down the scouts and hunters, not the damned wolves!" Asha yelled back.

"You've seen the bodies Asha, they were killed by wolves not men."

"The Northmen might as well be wolves. They were ruled by them for long enough!"

Qarl gave a grim laugh, "Then its time we returned to the sea Asha, we need to get to our ships!"

Asha only nodded as they began to run, keeping as hidden as possible while they escaped the Motte. It was being filled by Northmen. She could hear the drums and pipes skirling as they ran. She could hear the howls of the wolves.They're making impossible to hear anything.The two had made out of the Motte well enough, climbing over the wooden walls like the Northmen had. They ran into the darkness. Other Iron Born must have had the same idea, she could faintly see their silhouettes, running towards the bay of ice, towards their ships. Iron Born didn't belong on the lands. Deepwood Motte was in war, being near the coast. But now that the Northmen were in the North, it was clearly a different matter. Asha had told Theon that once when he took Winterfell, acting like a Greenlander.And it got him flayed.Asha didn't plan on meeting that end as she ran with Qarl.

Luck seemed to be on their side as she began to feel the winds of the sea on her, and lights on the ships. Some of her Iron Born must have been preparing. She knew she would lose most of her ships. She had thirty and if the slaughter was any indication, she wouldn't have the men to mobilise them all.I'll be lucky to have four by the end of this night.Qarl looked hopeful, running with his axe in hand, much like herself. The drums and pipes were getting louder.They're hunting the stragglers now.The howling had gotten louder as well. It made her stop.

"Qarl!"

He stopped, "What woman?"

"The howling's in front of us Qarl!" She shouted.

Asha tried looking for the Iron Born in front of her. She couldn't see as many before. They were vanishing. Then she heard another scream and thrashing. One of the faint outlines had dropped to something.

"They've got wolves!" She shouted.

Qarl cursed, "shit, then what do we do?"

Asha didn't know. They were clearly being herded, trapped on all sides.

"Run forward, they'll step over us if we run any other direction! The boats are our best shot if we can get past! If not, we can treat!"

Qarl gave her a nod and they ran again into the darkness towards the howling. Asha noticed as she ran that she was going over bodies of her own men. She could smell the blood and shit. They had died terrified. As they got closer to the lights of the ship, Asha could make out banners. Banners with bears on.Mormonts.There were more men there than she could count. And at their feet were wolves, with a giant white one at its front. Even in dim torch light she could see the red eyes. Blood red eyes they were.

The two slowed down as they got closer, raising her hands. There was no way out of it. Asha shouted at the Northmen.

"Who leads you? I wish to treat!"

Asha watched as a woman marched to the front, buxom in the Northern way, with brown hair and brown eyes. She was in full armour.

"Alysane Mormont. Why should we treat with squids who reave our lands?"

Asha took a breath, "I have Lady Glover's children on my Uncle's island. My Uncle will trade me for them."

Alysane's face turned to a scowl, "And what's to stop us from taking the island without you? We have your ships?"

Asha smiled, "You don't know which island and My Uncle will kill them without me."

Asha was too busy to notice Qarl try and swing his axe at the Mormont, hoping to take a chance. He didn't make it as Asha heard his scream. She turned in horror to see Qarl's arm had been sliced clean off by the man who had come from behind. She watched as the Giant white wolf rushed forward, tearing into his throat. The blood spattered across her. She looked at the dead body, with the White Wolf staring at her, snarling. The beast looked like something out of a nightmare. She couldn't stop looking at it though, as she was being surrounded by all of the Northmen. When she finally looked up from the beast, she saw a man standing beside Alysanne Mormont.

The man was dressed in Northern attire, knife attached at the leg and sword at the hip. Looking at the man's face she could make out grey eyes and dark hair. The face was long. She remembered Eddard Stark's face when he took Pyke.A Stark.It was the same look, just different. It looked savage. The glint in the eyes looked angry. His mouth looked ready to give a snarl. He looked like he was going to tear into like the wolf. She was fucked.

The Stark before her said nothing, just looking at her hard. He was eyeing her. Not like men usually did though. Not a look of lust. She might have felt a little safer if it was. He looked like he was ready to kill her. He was looking at her like prey. The long-faced savage took one last look then motioned to the Mormont. Asha didn't notice the Mormont knock her into the ground with a fist. Asha was looking at the Stark, starting to give orders to his men as she drifted out of consciousness.This isn't the honourable Ned Stark. This is a wolf.

A shorter chapter but I thought a massacre should be a quick one. We'll be getting a longer wae Jon next to see how he got tae this point.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 4: War Plans

Hope you all enjoy! Feel Free ta comment as always!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Jon

The Squids of Deepwood Motte had been slaughtered. One Thousand Iron Born had been taken by the sword in the night. Only the Greyjoy Bitch had been left alive. A hostage until Glover's children could be returned. Not a single Northman had been lost in the battle, all as bloodthirsty as he was for the Squids. It had been a massacre by Jon's forces, bringing Deepwood Motte back into the hands of the North. The hands of Jon. The Ironwood Hall was his.It's a start, Jon thought as he prepared himself to meet with his army's leaders. The army was a strong one, being made of Umbers, Free-Folk, Mountain Clans, Mormonts and Forresters. Jon had gathered them all on his march from Castle Black, creating a force to be reckoned with.An army of the First Men and Women,Jon thought with a wolfish grin, as he walked through the Halls of Deepwood Motte with Ghost at his side.

A Pack leader by his own right.Marching through the Wolfswood ha given Ghost an opportunity to gather a pack of wolves, slowly growing as they went. Jon knew that as they marched South to Winterfell that number would only grow. Whatever solitary aspect of the wolf was gone. Ghost was as much a leader as Jon now. Entering the Motte's great hall, Jon was met with nods from the Lords, ladies and commanders present at the meeting, sat on both sides of the long table. Jon nodded back at them all, walking towards the middle of the table, back towards the fire, with Val to his right and the Lady Sybille at his left, with Laurence Snow, another captive of the Iron Born. Ghost strolled behind him, lying in front of the fire. Surrounding the table, Mors Umber, Alysane Mormont, Rodrik Forrester, Hugo Wull, Torren and Morgan Liddle, Torghen Flint and Brandon Norrey, alongside other heads of the mountain clans and the Lords sworn to House Glover. They were all tough bastards, he'd fought with half of them when rallying them to the fight against the Boltons.

Jon took a large swig from the tankard before beginning, "How many ships did we take from the Squid Alysane?"

The Mormont woman gave a toothy grin at him, "The Greyjoy Bitch had Thirty ships with her. The only ships she could keep after Euron's ascension. A good number to start a Northern fleet."

"Aye, will be nice to see the squids get attacked by their own ships" Rodrik said happily.

"This was the largest Iron Born infestation in the North, what's left of them won't have anyone to help them" The Liddle stated simply, drinking from his tankard.

Mormont nodded at the man, "Aye you're right, what's left are in villages along the stony shore and at Tallhart's Square. Not many of them to cause many problems."

"What if more return from the Iron Islands?" Lady Sybille asked, turning to Jon.

The thought of Iron Born coming made him snarl.

"If they come back to Deepwood Motte Lady Glover they'll see Five Hundred of their Reavers' heads at the Bay of Ice on spikes and they'll meet the same fate. If they meet our ships on the sea, they'll see the other five hundred on the long ships."

Jon watched as the Mountain Clan leaders smiled at the thought. Mormont's toothy grin was bigger.

"Deepwood Motte won't be ill defended either. Rodrik will lead the Motte's forces for you. The Forresters, House Bole, Woods and Branch will guard the Motte until your husband and his forces return."

Rodrik looked at Jon, "That can be done. How many of them will you want to take to Winterfell?"

Jon gave him a hard look. "None. I'll have enough to take Winterfell without Glover's Lords. They can stay and kill any squids that come looking for something to plunder."

Rodrik raised an eyebrow, "You think you can take Winterfell back from the Boltons with the forces we have?"

It was Val who answered with a laugh and a piercing smile, "Kneeler, you've only seen some of the Free-Folk fight, when we join up with the rest of our people, we won't need anyone else!"

Some of the Lords didn't look too comfortable with Val's comment. He knew well enough what they thought about fighting with the Free-Folk. When he was commander of the Watch, Jon had to discuss his actions with Norrey and Flint. They'd accepted it by the time Alys Karstark married Sigorn though.

Crowfood Umber slammed his tankard onto the table, "And you haven't seen us Umbers fight against a real enemy either. One Umber is worth Ten of you!"

That got a few laughs from the group, "Aye Crowfood, same goes for the mountain clans. You'll see what this greybeard can do when he bathes in Bolton Blood!"

Jon listened to them all give their boasts. As long as their words are as good as their actions. Jon had seen them fight though, they were eager, and aching for Bolton Blood. Jon could practically taste himself, as far away as they were, feasting in his home.

Alsyane Mormont broke the boasting, bringing it back to plans, "We'll have it easier now that we've seenthe Lady Stark."

Jon's face turned to a snarl. Ghost growled at the mention. The hall turned quiet, only the crackling fire and Ghost making a noise. Jon had met the girl Ramsay demanded in his letter at Last Hearth. She'd arrived not long after Jon had, with a member of Stannis' army. Jon only had to take long at the battered woman to see that she wasn't Arya. Her eyes were brown, not grey like his own. Umber could tell as well, like everyone else would that Arya Stark was Ned Stark's Daughter in all aspects. The Boltons had made an imposter of his sister. And with the girl that had mocked her in her youth,Jeyne Poole. The name made him angry. A spit in his sister's face. He'd brought her with him on his march, showing everyone that Bolton never had a Stark in his possession.They never will,Jon thought darkly.

"My brother, Whoresbane, will have seen Bolton's bride. He'll know the truth as well as us."

"Aye, I doubt any of the Lords that had sworn themselves to Bolton will have believed that farce. They're just biding their time." Flint added.

Jon looked at them all, snarl still etched on his face, "Then it is time they know the North doesn't have to wait."

Val looked at Jon with a mischievous grin, "You're going to tell them that we're coming?"

Jon gave her a wolfish grin in response, "Aye, no point hiding it. I'll send the Ravens before we leave. They'll find out sooner or later. I want everyone at Winterfell to know that we're coming to take Winterfell from the Boltons. And I'll send word to the rest of the North. Everyone will know what is coming for the Boltons. Winter is coming."

"And The North remembers." The Liddle said solemnly.

"What's our plan then The Jon for the Bolton Fucks?" Wull asked eagerly.

Jon kept his grin, "Me and the Umbers are going to meet with the Free-Folk and march South through the Wolfswood to Winterfell. I want you and the Lords of the Mountains to sail south with Lady Mormont on our ships, you're to meet us at Tallhart's Square."

Alsyane looked at him curiously, "Why split our forces?"

Jon looked at her, smile more wolfish, "I want rid of the Squids. You can kill what's left of them along the Stony Shore, then at Tallhart's Square. We'll rid the Squids completely from the North before ending the Boltons. Finish what Theon the Hungry Wolf Started."

Alsyane smiled but Jon wasn't done.

"And take the Greyjoy Bitch with you. Have her tied to the Bow as well. She'll make a good sight for the Reavers."

The Northerners started to laugh at the thought, clanking their tankards together as they drank. Jon joined them with Val, giving the woman a savage smile. It was a good night, drinking to the deaths of Squids and Boltons. How long he'd waited to bathe in their blood. For their atrocities to the North. It was good to see their heads on spikes, and their bodies burnt, as far away from their Drowned God. The Boltons would be next. Jon looked forward to what he intended to do to the Bolton and his bastard. The thought made him smile more, as he downed his tankard of ale.Winterfell is mine Bastard, come and see.

Hope you all enjoyed it. An establishment of Jon's plans. He wants the North to know what's coming. Troop numbers will come soon, as will some descriptions of Jon from other people. I wanted the taking of the Motte to be a complete massacre and for the Iron Born to really feel the might of the North.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 5: The White Wolf's Howl

Hope you all Enjoy! Feel free tae comment as always! This one was written a while back, so its up quicker than usual releases.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Barbrey Dustin

Winterfell was becoming like she remembered it. Before the wars. The walls were repaired, the keeps and towers rebuilt, even the ones that had fallen into disrepair before Robert's Rebellion. The Sept was no more as well. Roose Bolton had only done minimal repairs on first arrival, using the people of Wintertown and those who had taken shelter in Winterfell after the sack; and the Freys that had come North.

It was the Northern Lords that had brought it back to its glory, with Manderly, Whoresbane Umber, Cerwyn and Mazin at the fore. Her Father, Lord Ryswell had even helped. The Karstarks had also helped once they had betrayed Stannis and his southern army with not a single Northman but the Karstarks; not before he killed half of the Frey men, as Lord Manderly had said on his return with the bastard of Bolton.The one who stole my nephew,Lady Dustin thought bitterly. All the Lords present had brought supplies to rebuild Winterfell and it almost looked complete, almost the same too with the Direwolf statues fixed. Like the castle she once thought she might share with Brandon, barring the Bolton banners that adorned the walls.Another Northerner hurt by Southern Ambitions,Barbrey thought sadly at the thought of Brandon. The repaired Direwolves hadn't surprised her in truth. These Northmen were Stark men, even after their demise. Even the Northern Lords that had helped Bolton, albeit for the hostages he had, were not loyal to him. Lord Bolton didn't seem to mind though.

He always was an emotionless one.

The thought made her snort, as she walked towards the great hall of Winterfell, flayed men adorning the walls of Winterfell.Maybe he doesn't care, or he finds it fitting, a flayed man surrounded by Direwolves him and his son had flayed from existence.Every Northern Lord and Lady knew the truth of the sack, no matter what Bolton said of the Iron born. He had proclaimed it justice when they proclaimed that Theon Turn cloak had been executed by Stannis, although heloathednot doing it himself.Even though his bastard had kept him as a pet for so long.

The Bastard of Bolton had been in a mood despite his victory over Stannis. His Reek was dead and his bride had escaped, freed by Mance Rayder, according to the women who had accompanied him, tortured by the bastard in his so-called retribution. Mance was in a dungeon now for taking Bolton's bride, surrounded by the flayed skin of the women.A shame they had rescued a false Stark.Another thing every Northerner had known at the wedding before Stannis' arrival. The Arya Stark that didn't have her father's eyes.The eyes of the man who left my husband's bones in a Dornish Desert.The thought made her more bitter at the thought. Barbrey knew where the false stark would be taken. To the bastard of Ned Stark, Jon Snow.

Ramsay had sent a letter to him demanding her back. He'd threatened the Night's Watch according to one of the Maesters.Southern rats.Roose had kept it quiet, knowing how foolish it was to send such a letter. To threaten the Night's Watch was to threaten the wall, and the North valued the wall. Entering the great hall of Winterfell, she could see all the Lords present. Lords that were only in service to Bolton because of hostages held by the Freys. They were in a corner to themselves, what ones of House Frey were left. Barbrey could see the small smile on Lord Manderly's face at their dwindled sight. The hall was tense. It always was. Barbrey sat next to her father and the other Ryswell and Dustin men to wait for Lord Bolton to begin. She watched as Roose Bolton rose from his seat, flayed armour on. She could see those pale, almost milky eyes. They looked dead. His wife and bastard sat to his right and left. His bastard looked amused. The bastard's eyes weren't as pale as his father's but they were alive with a mad glint. She doubted he knew what was to be said. Her father didn't, she knew that much, and he was the closest Lord that could be said as loyal to the Boltons due to blood ties.

Barbrey watched as the flayed Lord waited for a moment before speaking, his voice soft and lifeless, "Months have passed since Stannis' defeat. The North is now secure from false Kings from the South. Winterfell, the heart of the North is rebuilt. Now, it is time to secure the North once and for all by driving out the Iron Born. House Bolton has removed them from Moat Cailin. We will do the same in Deepwood Motte, Torrhen's square and the Stony Shore. The men you have here will be a part of that, as will the other lords of the North that have yet to join us."

It was a simple speech. Lord Bolton was establishing that he was the only power in the North, the only one that could remove the Iron Born, the one that one day might call himself King in the North if he could remain unopposed.It might have been successful if he didn't have another problem.Dustin thought smugly.

"What of the Lady Arya, Lord Bolton? She hasn't been seen since the battle with Stannis?" Lord Cerwyn asked hesitantly.

Lady Dustin heard the grumbling begin. Lord Bolton may have been cunning and a terrifying creature, but the Northerners were never ones to cow at that. Especially when they knew Bolton's rule was tenuous. Asking about the false Stark girl was a good show of discontent.A poor start for Lord Roose,Barbrey thought.

The Leech Lord didn't raise his voice, he never did, "Lady Arya's disappearance will be dealt with. According to those who had taken her out of Winterfell, she was to be brought to the wall, where Stannis' former Queen and daughter reside."

"And her bastard brother, Jon Snow." The bastard of Bolton added disdainfully.

Barbrey wanted to laugh at how much contempt was in his voice when saying the word.He thinks because of a legitimisation and his "marriage" to the late Lady Hornwood makes him better than Ned Starks Bastard. He's a loon to think that. Even I think Ned Starks' bastard is better than him.

The Leech Lord gave his bastard a small look, then went on like nothing had happened, "Yes, to her bastard brother. The Lord Commander of the watch will not resist in returning her to her home. He knows his oaths to take no part in the affairs of the realm. "

"When will she be returned then?" Whoresbane asked, a lot less hesitant than Cerwyn and more impatient.

A true Umber.

"A contingent of Bolton men will be sent to collect her from her brother when the Iron Born are removed."

The grumbling started again in the hall. They probably didn't like the idea of Bolton men heading to the wall to meet the Lord Commander. He might not live for being Ned Stark's last son. Any son of Stark had power. The son that hadn't broken his oath to the watch, despite the offer that Stannis gave according to the Karstarks.Like his father for oaths, though if he'd broken them, the North would have flocked to him regardless.Better an oath breaker of the watch with Stark blood than a Bolton who would abandon guest rights.

"Then what is the plan to remove the squids from the North?" Lord Manderly asked.

Lord Bolton eyed the fat Lord of White Harbour, "There are few hideouts left for them, the biggest being Deepwood Motte, to the North West. We will take that, depriving their holdouts at Torrhen's square and the stony shore from any aid. They will quickly fall from that point."

"Who will be sent to do this task?" Lord Manderly asked again, keeping a positive voice. It was only when Freys started to speak he lost his poise somewhat. Barbrey could still see the small scar where a Frey had slashed not long before they battled against Stannis.

"Lord Manderly, you and Lord Umber will be sent. Once you've reclaimed Deepwood Motte you can assist Lady Dustin in taking back the Stony Shore when you send word of your victory. My own men, Ryswell, Dustin, Frey and Cerwyn will remain here until then. After we will take Torrhen's square."

Lord Bolton was being smart. Lady Dustin knew that. After half of the Freys died, by Stannis as Manderly"claimed," it was wiser to keep them away from each other. Sending off some of the larger houses was also smart in depleting their forces while keeping the Bolton army intact.Less troops to fight against Bolton rule, Barbrey noted.

Nobody seemed to disagree with Lord Bolton's strategy, they hated the squids almost as much as the Boltons. It seemed to be a done meeting, until one of the Maesters entered the room, holding a piece of parchment.

"My Lords and Ladies, we've received a missive from Deepwood Motte."

The Bolton bastard smirked, "Have the squids sent word of surrender?"

The Maester shook his head and spoke with a stutter, realising he had the bastard of Bolton's attention, "No My lord, Deepwood Motte has been taken from the Iron Born."

"By who?" One of the Northern Lords asked.

"Jon Snow, My Lord. He's the one who signed it."

The Northern Lords were silent.If they speak, they'll probably be cheering,Lady Dustin realised.

The bastard looked incredibly mad at the Maester. Lord Bolton remained passive, asking a simple question,

"What does it say?"

The Maester looked nervous, with all eyes on him. He cleared his throat.

"To the King Slayer, Lord Bolton and his bastard that sacked Winterfell, Ramsay Snow,

My Watch has ended on the wall as the North demanded it after your bastard's threats to the Night's Watch. Deepwood Motte has been taken from the squids. Their heads are on spikes, their entrails hung in the Godswood. I will do the same to you. I march for Winterfell to take it from you. If you have any wisdom, you would fight me in the old way by single combat. If not, you condemn your Bolton Army to slaughter by the full might of the North, by the full might of the First Men that remember there must always be a Stark in Winterfell. The North Remembers your crimes. The murder of King Robb Stark and his loyal lords and Ladies, the sacking of Winterfell and the impersonation of Arya Stark will be answered for with your blood. The Weirwood Tree of Winterfell will have it once me and my army are done bathing in it."

The Northern Lords were all listening intently to the words. Lady Dustin listened as well whilst watching in amusement as the Bolton Bastard got angrier at the words; clearly lacking the ability to control a response to being called a bastard. The moment that the Maester rat had said Jon Snow had taken the Motte, she knew he would be coming to Winterfell. As she listened, she noticed something about the words, they were odd. They spoke like a Stark with the Wolfblood in droves.No son of Ned Stark would write with such anger as this. No son of Ned Stark would revel as much in the blood, or sacrificing to the Old Gods in that fashion. He speaks with the Wolfblood.Lady Dustin hadn't heard a Stark to speak in that way for a long time. Not since Brandon.The last wolf in my eyes

Her attention was brought back to the Maester as he finished,"Winter is Coming Lord Bolton, Lord Snow. And with it comes the wolves.

Jon Snow, Son of Brandon Stark"

Barbrey had turned her attention to the Maester completely at that point.Son of Brandon? The bastard's lost his mind.Then it hit her. Of course, he was Brandon's. The honourable Ned Stark would never have sired a bastard. Brandon would though. Lady Dustin knew that much, remembering the man who had taken her maidenhead, a small smile tugging at her lips. It made sense that he was. It even made sense that Ned Stark claimed him as his own.A bastard of Brandon's would have been even more terrifying to the Tully Trout. Bastard of the first-born heir of Rickard.Ned Stark must have told him on his way to the wall, when it wouldn't matter that he was Brandon's son. The thought made her angry.

"You mean the son of Ned Stark?" Her father asked, clearly speaking with interest.

"It says Brandon Stark my Lord." The Maester said slowly

The Northern Lords were muttering amongst themselves. She swore that she could hear them coming to the same conclusion as Barbrey. They knew what Jon Snow had said was true. His parentage wasn't the only thing. One of the Northerners nearby uttered a whisper. "The North Remembers."The Bolton's hold on the North was getting weaker with one letter.

One of the Frey Lords present gave a shout, "What does it matter who fathered the bastard?! He's a traitor to the watch, an oath breaker and the blood of traitors to the Crown! He needs to be dealt with!"

Thewords were foolish ones to say for a Frey, she could here Whoresbane Umber smash his tankard on the table and growled. The other Lords present looked ready to slaughter the Freys. Lord Manderly was looking at Lord Bolton though.

"Now that DeepwoodMottehas been taken, what are our plans now?"

Lady Dustin could almost here the smugness that Manderly was hiding behind the fat.

Lord Bolton met the man with an empty stare, "The Oath Breaker is coming to Winterfell. Our army will crush his and he'll be executed for abandoning the wall. I'm sure all of you Lords of the North know what to do with a man who deserts the Night's Watch. The same will be done to those Lords which have made whatever army he claims to have."

The Northern Lords nodded.A mummer's farce if I've ever saw one,Lady Dustin knew.

The Leech Lord spoke one last time, "That will be all my Lords, we will convene again to discuss the upcoming battle."

The Lords all began to leave the great hall, Lady Barbrey walking with her father. The tension that had been in the hall was still there. It didn't matter what hostages the Freys had, it didn't matter that Jon Snow had left the watch. The Northerners were going to fight for Jon Snow. They were going to fight for a son of House Stark.And I will fight for Brandon's only son.That was a certainty for Lady Dustin.He can avenge my Domeric.

Hope you all enjoyed, felt like it was a good look into what's happened at Winterfell. Theon is dead btw,I went wae the whole sacrifice theory. Stannis does it before the battle, hoping Theon's head on a spike might turn the Northerners on the Bolton side. Theon's life paid for Jon's resurrection in this as a sacrifice to the old Gods. As tae why Jon said son of Brandon is twofold, reminds them of Ned Stark's character and a way of honouring Brandon fae giving him peace after he got stabbed tae death. And you can see the North's loyalties quite plainly in this as well. Oh and the entrails on the Godswood happens, will be mentioned in one of the next chapters, no embellishment in the letter Jon sends

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 6: Call to the North

Hope you all enjoy! Feel free tae comment as always! And if anyone got any bad comments from some randomer I'm sorry about that. He was doing that on my other story as well

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Maege Mormont

Maege listened intently to Howland Reed as he read the missive received from Deepwood Motte. Ravens in the North were trained to go into the Neck, but never specifically to Greywater Watch. Nobody knew where it was. Lords rarely sent their ravens, believing the ravens never found their destination. So, when Howland Reed said a raven had come, she had been surprised. The small Crannogman simply said that"the Crannogmen know how to find the ravens."The Ravens usually brought dark words in these times, this was different. Galbert Glover was leaning forward in his chair, clearly happy at the words. Deepwood Motte, his home, had been liberated. And his brother's wife freed. Maege was glad the Motte had been freed of the Squids which had plagued Bear Island and the North for millennia, if it was true. But that wasn't what had truly gotten her happy. No, what had gotten Maege's blood pumping was the fact that war had been openly declared on the Boltons and Jon Snow was marching to Winterfell.We know no King but the King in the North whose name is Stark.The King in the North's heir was on the warpath. If the raven was true at least.It could be a trap by the Boltons.It worried her, but it didn't feel like something Roose Bolton would write.

"Is it truly Jon Snow's words?" Galbert asked hesitantly. He clearly didn't want it to be a lie or it would mean the Motte was in Bolton hands.

Howland Reed was still looking at the missive, his face deep in thought.

"It is Lord Glover. The words are Jon's. Look at how he signed it."

Lord Reed put the missive on the desk. Maege looked straight to the bottom.

Jon Snow, Son of Brandon Stark.

Howland didn't give the two of them time to think on the words. "Only myself and Ned Stark knew that he was Brandon's. The only way anyone would know that is if Ned told him before the lad went to the wall. It's him."

Brandon's bastard. It still changes nothing. We all should have known that it was horseshit that Ned could have a bastard of his own.

"Then the words are true. Jon Snow's marching against the Boltons." Galbert stated with a smile.

"And it's about bloody time!" Maege practically bellowed, hand almost grabbing her mace. She could avenge her Dacey, avenge her fellow Northmen and avenge her King.

Howland nodded at the two, "Aye, it is. The Mummer's Farce is over. It is about time they were given to the Heart Tree at Winterfell, their entrails on the branches."

Maege was amused. Howland Reed was usually a quiet man and a kind one. Having met him in the rebellion and her time in the Neck. To hear the small man, speak of hanging Bolton's entrails to the trees with venom in his voice was not something to be taken lightly, at least for the Boltons and Freys. That's what amused her.

"So, what's our plan here? Do we march for Winterfell with our army? He added at the bottom that he would be at Torrhen's Square first." Galbert asked

Seven Thousand men of the Northern army. That was what Robb Stark had given Maege and Galbert control of to take Moat Cailin from the North before the Red Wedding. If they hadn't been sent ahead, Robb's Three Thousand Five Hundred would not have been outnumbered by the Bolton forces and the Freys. The rest of the Northern army was scattered in the Riverlands like the Riverland army was.

Maege shook her head, "No, our forces are large but it will take too long to reach the square or Winterfell, at least all of them anyway."

Galbert nodded, "But a small force of our army could join up with him though in time for the battle, shore up whatever forces he has. Say a thousand."

"I'll send some of my own forces with that group. We rarely leave the neck but ourtalentsshould be useful." Howland offered with a small smile.

"I'll lead those forces up. I want to fight with the man that freed my home." Galbert declared.

Maege turned to the Glover. "I'll lead that force Glover! I want vengeance for my Dacey!"

Before a row could start on who would join up with Jon, Howland intervened, "Galbert, I'd rather you stay and lead the other Six Thousand, you've had more experience leading larger forces from what I've heard."

Galbert turned back to Reed, "What are you thinking up Reed?"

Howland kept his small smile, "I don't want any Freys or Lannisters marching North once Jon takes back the North. I say we take Moat Cailin from the Boltons. I've been targeting their scouts and hunters since they took it from the Iron Born."

Maege grinned at the two, "And if any Freys or Lannisters come North, they'll die like the Andals did last time."

"I'll lead them to Moat Cailin then." Galbert said happily.

"Should I bring the will?" Maege asked.

The two lords shook their heads, Galbert answering, "Best it stays here until after the battle. No point risking it getting lost if you're ambushed before getting there."

Maege snarled and clipped his head hard. The Glover grunted. "Remember Glover, Bear Islanders are worth Ten mainlanders. And Mormont women are worth a hundred."

The Glover glared, then smirked.

"Leave it for now anyway. I'll bring it North after the battle. I'd like to have words with the lad." Howland said, face returning to a solemn one.

A rare thing when Howland Reed leaves the Neck.

Galbert looked at her with a smirk, grabbing one of the cups on Howland's desk, "To the King in the North then?"

Howland smiled, pouring drink into the cups, "Aye, to the King in the North."

Maege grinned, "The King in the North!"

Davos

Bring me my Liege Lord and I'll declare Stannis my King.Those had been Manderly's last words to Ser Davos before heading to Winterfell. The Lord of White harbour had given the man a small ship with a crew to bring the young Rickon Stark and his Direwolf to the North's mainland. There were no banners marking their loyalties, a simple merchant ship to the world and nothing more. The journey to Skagos on the Bay of Seals had been a simple one. It may have been icy but Davos had sailed under worse conditions. He'd manage to sail safely into Skagos, with its very rocky shore, with a couple of shipwrecks adorning the shoreline, and the great volcano, surrounded by woods. It had been simple for Davos getting there. Getting the Stark though, on an island of rumoured cannibals, that was the challenge Davos worried about.

Davos and three crew members had worked their way through the woods, aiming to find the villages. They had heard that there were coastal settlements as well but where they had landed was on the much rockier side of the island, a way to keep the ship hidden in case of the worst. It taken little over a week going through the forest before found people. Well, the Skagosi found them. A large group of them had surrounded them in the forest without them even knowing. Davos had done the only sensible thing and put his hands above his head before the Crewmen got any ideas. Davos wasn't much use in a fight, with a hand missing fingers down to the joints. That aside, he was a smuggler long before he was a Seaworth. The whole point of being a smuggler was to net get caught, or be able to talk his way out of it.They could have killed us without us every knowing,Davos thought hopefully as the group of Skagosi, covered in animal furs and simple armours approached them. The crewmen followed his lead on the matte, raising their arms slowly as the Skagosi took their weapons and began to put chains on them, including Davos.

The Group had been brought to a large settlement in the woods, the buildings were largely wooden, but some of the larger ones had been built with Stone. Davos and the group were met with wary stares from villagers, watching them. Davos had seen that stare before on his travels on the sea. He'd even seen it from the Lords and Ladies of the Southern Courts.We're outsiders here.Davos wasn't a particularly pious man but he prayed that his life would not end today, as he was brought into the long hall, brought in front of whoever was in charge of the settlement. The hall was warm, with a fire in the centre and tables to each side, filled with men and women, all carrying swords and axes on their person, some made of material as black as night. They all looked rough to Davos.They make the dangerous ones from Flea Bottom look like children,Davos thought to himself with a small smile. At the front was an older man, sitting on a simple chair with a drink in hand. He looked as rough as the rest of them, but with grey hair and a missing eye. It didn't take anything from his intimidating stature and a scowl. The man spoke with a deep, guttural voice,

"Are you with the black brothers the Magnars found on the shore mainlander?"

Davos shook his head, speaking with his own Flea Bottom accent, something else thought to be guttural,

"No milord, I'm not with the black brothers."

The Skagosi gave him an amused look before returning to a scowl, "You're here on your own business then. Not theirs."

"Aye. I'm here on behalf of Lord Manderly." Davos said confidently. He doubted the Skagosi knew who Stannis was, but a Northern house they might. And he doubted the group would like any lies. The stares were unnervingly penetrating.

The Skagosi kept his scowl, "The Manderly sent you to Skagos. We don't talk to them much, our Northern brothers. Why?"

"He asked me to return a lad back to the mainland. He has a wolf with him. I'm to bring him home."

That started muttering in the group. They knew there was a lad with a wolf on the island.At least Manderly was right, the lad didn't die at Winterfell.

"You want The Rickon then mainlander. So do the Black Brothers." The leader of the Skagosi group stated.

Davos wondered how the Black Brothers knew about Rickon. At least the Skagosi knew.

Then a shout came from one of the tables, "He wants to give him to the Flayers Crowl!"

"He'll kill The Stark and his Direwolf!"

"The flayers will put their skin on the floors!"

"Send him and the others to Cannibal's Cave!"

The shouts were angry ones. This lot were clearly wanting to protect the boy.A loyal lot for a group that doesn't speak with the mainland much.It was the only thought that went through his head, trying not to think of what Cannibal's Cave meant.

Davos decided to brave and shout before the lot decided he was a threat.I probably am for just being here.

"I'm not here for the Boltons! Manderly wants him so he can drive the bastards out of the North!"

The group kept shouting, it had moved to Liar now.

The older Skagosi leader, Crowl from what he heard, stood up, bringing the hall to silence, "We'll bring the mainlander to the Magnars at the shore! He can join the black brothers they have there and see what they really want with the Rickon! Send word to the Stanes as well! We move on the morn!"

The group of Skagosi started to grumble at the command but all seemed in agreement at least.I'm going to live for now at least,Davos thought, some air escaping from his lungs as they brought him out of the hall and into a small hut, with guards at the front.

This gathering to see the mainlanders was a lot larger than the one in the woods. Davos and his crew, along with a large number of the Skagosi from the settlement, had come to a coastal town. It was a lot less elaborate or built up than White Harbour but it was still large. The town was the Home of the Magnars according to the Skagosi that he'd talked with. Out on the coast, Davos could see a collection of ships anchored out there. Davos couldn't see the sails but he guessed they'd be black. The brothers had sent about half their fleet, Davos could tell. He'd seen the full fleet when he was at Eastwatch. Most of those ships they couldn't use. Not enough men.They must have been on a skeleton crew,Davos realised. It was always riskier, operating a ship with less men in case of pirates or a savage sea, but it could be done. Davos had done it enough times.

Davos and his crewmen had been brought to the centre of the town, surrounded by growing numbers of Skagosi, all looking straight at them. They had been placed to one of the Black Brothers, Cotter Pyke, the captain at Eastwatch and commander of the castle. They waited silently as the Skagosi gradually filled up the centre of the town. Davos and his crew had been unbound, much like Pyke.We don't have the numbers or the skill to escape if we tried.

Davos watched as three men and three women entered the clearing in the town, one of them being The Crowl. He guessed these were the Lords and Ladies of Skagos, or chiefs. He wasn't sure what their titles were besidesThe.They weren't the ones to bring silence to the large crowd that surrounded them. It was a howl, and a damn vicious one at that. Davos didn't know where the howl came from, but he had an idea what it was.The Direwolf is here.Davos watched as the crowd parted again, with a massive black wolf walking through them. Its teeth were bare and it was snarling. It was almost as big as a horse. To its side were a woman and a boy, both dressed in furs. The woman was slender with dark brown hair and crooked teeth. And there was the lad, with messy brownish red hair and light blue eyes, almost grey, face almost a snarl like his wolf.Rickon Stark.The boy looked young, no more than Nine by now if Davos remembered his dates right. For a boy though, he looked hardened, almost as savage as his wolf. Davos could see two knives strapped to the lad's side. One of bone and the other of black Dragon Glass. The three joined the chiefs, with the Direwolf staring right at him with big yellow eyes.

I'm fucked.That was Davos' first thought.I'm fucked and I'm probably going to be food.That was his second thought.

It was the Crowl that first spoke, almost to everyone, but his eye on the boy.

"These people have been looking for you The Rickon. The man I brought, missing a few fingers, says he's here for the Manderly."

It was the woman who spoke first, with a similar accent to the Northmen he had met, albeit a little thicker, "You met him once little Prince at the Harvest Feast."

She spoke softly to him, it reminded him of his wife. She had always been like that with the young.A nice thought to have if it all goes wrong, thinking of my wife on Cape Wrath with our sons Stannis and Steffon.

The young Stark looked deep in thought then nodded, his accent mixed, between Northmen and Skagosi "Aye, The Fat one with a bigger smile."

Davos had to hold back a laugh at that. Manderly had been intimidating when he put him in the Wolf's Den but to hear him reduced to that was a funny one.

It was one of the other chiefs who spoke, "And the one in Black claims to be here on your brother's orders."

"Which one? The one that marched South? He's dead. Bran? Gone so North I can't see him anymore."

It was the woman who spoke again "You have another Little Prince. Bran told us both of him. He joined the crows with his white wolf."

Rickon's eyes seemed to light up there for a moment, "You mean Da?"

"No little Prince, Jon. He left before we met. He just looks like him from what I'm told."

The lad doesn't remember his father's dead. And he thinks his half-brother is him.The thought made Davos sad, wondering if his youngest would think that of Devan who looked like him.

Rickon's face turned to a scowl, pointing his finger right at the black brother, "And you hurt him! You left him on the ice, covered in his blood! Crows killed my brother before he came back Magnar!"

Cotter Pyke's face went white at the lad's accusation. Davos would have called it a tantrum if it didn't sound as savage. The wolf was snarling as well, slowly approaching them, but focused on the black brother.

"I did nothing to Jon! I was in East Watch when that happened Boy! How could you know what happened?!"

The Direwolf was still approaching, snarl getting louder and louder. Davos was too focused to think on both of their words.

The Stark boy shouted louder, "I saw it in My Dreams! I saw the White Wolf fight them!"

One of the other women at the front turned to the lad, "Did you see him in your dreams lad?"

Rickon looked at Pyke deeply, then shook his head, clearly annoyed though, "No! Only Crows in Black!"

"Then it won't be him lad. If you saw the wolf fight them as well, they'll all be dead."

That seemed to calm the lad down at least. The wolf was next to them now, bared teeth and snarling and sniffing. It sniffed at the group for what seemed like an age before stopping, then returning to Rickon's side.

The Crowl raised an eyebrow, "A good sign for the lot of you. The last man the wolf didn't like died a slow death. Ripped apart like a cut of meat on a long winter's night."

The sentence didn't ease Davos' worries.

The Crowl kept talking to the group, "Davos wants you to go with him so Manderly can fight the Boltons."

The Magnar nodded, turning his head to the crow, "The Crow says similar. Speaks for The Rickon's brother. Tell us all what message you had."

Davos watched as Pyke took a relieved sigh, "Jon Snow told me to bring half of the fleet here and to bring his brother Rickon and your armies to the North. He wants his family back and for you to give the Boltons hell."

Davos could hear the Skagosi crowd start to speak amongst themselves. The chiefs looking at each other.

The Crowl spoke again, "The Rickon's brother wants us to fight on the mainland. A surprise. The Mainland thinks us as bad as the Squids."

Pyke shook his head, "Jon said in the missive that him and Rickon will let you have your ships back.To strengthen the might of the first men."

The chiefs were all looking to each other there. The sounds in the crowd sounded almost excited.

The Stane, who had been mostly quiet, finally raised his voice, "He trusts us? He doesn't think us scum like the Iron Born? He sees us as Northmen?"

Pyke spoke more calmly, "The missive he gave said you were loyal Stark men ever since they proved their might to you a century ago."

The Stane smiled, "The Jon understands then. I'll fight with him then."

The Crowl nodded his head, "I'll fight then, I'll fight with the Manderlys too. About time the North sees how Islanders fight!"

The Magnar looked to Rickon, "Do you want us to fight The Rickon?"

The woman who hadn't left the lad's sight bent down to Rickon, "Do you want to see Jon?"

Rickon nodded with a smile, "Aye, I want to see Jon Osha."

The Magnar shouted to the crowd, "Then We Fight!"

Davos felt relief. Rickon Stark was returning home, Manderly's words echoing in his head.The Mummer's Farce is almost done, bring me my Liege Lord and I will declare Stannis my King.The Manderlys will fight for Stannis now, and he has Jon Snow, Rickon Stark and Skagos behind him.Davos smiled as he was offered drink by the Skagosi. He wasn't sure if he'd earnt it yet though, not until Rickon was safely in the North. Davos drank as the massive wolf howled. They were going to take the North.

Hope you all enjoyed it. Went with the idea that a fair portion of the Northern army needed to be with Maege and Galbert for taking Moat Cailin on their side as well as the side Robb would have been on. The rest of the Northerners that went wae Robb are either dead from the war, Red Wedding or are Scattered. The Riverlands army is also scattered and had tae bend the knee tae Jamie like in the books. Also went wae the idea that Skagos when it rebelled a century ago did it in part tae test the Starks. It said at one point in the fiction they swore complete loyalty but were never called upon. Davos doesn't know what happened to Stannis yet but will very soon. Though he'll have the knowledge that Devan and Shireen are safe and alive.

The next chapter will be Val.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 7: The Northmen's March

Hope you all enjoy! Feel free tae comment as always!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Val

I wonder if this is what the Kings of Winter looked like when they weren't simply tales among the Free Folk.That was what Val thought as she marched ever closer to Torrhen's Square with Jon Snow, at the front of his army of Free Folk and Umbers in the snowy Wolfswood, unflinching in the wind. Everything about him screamed it in Val's head. His actions at Deepwood Motte, gutting the corpses of the Squids and offering it to the Heart Tree. How he got his army, fighting the toughest warriors they had, bare handed, proving his strength. His Northern attire, a mix of tartan, leather and chain mail, with a knife as black as night attached to his greaves, and Longclaw at his side, next to the guard on top of the tartan, all in dark colours or Stark Grey. A gift from the Umbers and the Mountain Clans. And his face, always etched with a sense of feral. It was there when his face was like ice, when he was angry and when he smiled. Always there, always wolfish. It all spoke of the tales of the Kings of Winter.

Val had wondered if it had always been in him before he died. She had seen the way he acted before his death, like he was holding back. Holding back his power as a Warg. Acting less because of the name Snow. Being completely reserved, almost isolated by the time he became King Crow. The wolfishness that had come after his death seemed to have taken that away. He looked relaxed in it, almost revelling in it. He looked truly alive in it all. Just like his wolf at the head of its pack. That had only kept growing as they marched through the wolfswood. Val was taken from her thoughts by Tormund's booming laugh.

"What do you find so funny Tormund?" Val asked, turning to the big man, who'd joined her at the front.

Tormund looked at her with an amused grin, "You looking at King Crow Val. You look like a wolf in heat! Har!"

Val gave Tormund a hard stare, "Go fuck another bear Tormund!"

Tormund laughed harder, "Har, Har! I might if I find one at Torrhen's Square. Or I might ask Wun-Wun if there are any giant women in that clan up at the wall that fancy a giant's member on a man!"

Val rolled her eyes at the man. She wondered how he had sons and daughters. "What do you think of snow now anyway Tormund? You've not said much on it."

Tormund raised his busy eyebrows then laughed again, "Aye you are wanting to fuck him! Har!"

"Answer the question Tormund or I'll geld you before you get your chances with the bears and giant women!"

Tormund laughed for a moment before calming down, "The lad's different, no denying that. I heard from the Umber lot what you all did at Deepwood Motte."

"You've been talking with the Umbers?" Val asked, not able to hide the surprise.

Tormund smiled, "A few fights first with them, then a few drinks but aye I have. Not a bad lot for kneelers that we've fought with for centuries."

Val nodded at him. She'd noticed that. The Free Folk and the Umbers were mingling. There'd been more than a few fights but nobody had been killed. A lot of testing each other's mettle. She wondered if it was because of how Jon acted with everyone. Or if it was because they we are the first men and women.

"But to Jon. The lad's got more than enough of his wolf in him now. A good thing for what's coming. We have a better shot of living through winter and long after it with him as he is now then before. And the lad was impressing me before then, for all his kneeler shit that he had!"

Val smiled at him, "Aye, damn good thing that he's lost that. Snow's not going to kneel to anyone anymore."

Tormund laughed again, "Assuming you don't steal him of course."

Val growled at Tormund, his grin widening.How has someone not killed you yet Tormund.

"See Val, I'm right. You're like a wolf in heat! Har!"

Tormund's laughter was interrupted by his son, Dryn, running towards them and shouting.

"Da!"

Tormund turned to the lad, "What is it son? You bit a kneeler?"

His son laughed like Tormund.

"Nah Da, I'm saving that for the Boltons. Jon says we're near Torrhen's Square. He wants us to get ready. One of the scouts says the army he sent by see is camped outside the walls waiting for us."

Tormund grinned at his son, "Sounds good son, been dying to show these Umbers and the rest of the kneelers what a proper son of the first men can do!"

Val smiled while shaking her head, "I doubt it'll come to a fight Tormund. You were at the camp with Jon. There are barely any of them in that one."

Tormund glared at her with his smirk, "Aye but it doesn't mean they won't shit themselves to death when they see me coming!"

Val snorted, "Well you are an ugly fuck Tormund."

Dryn laughed. Tormund glared at the two.

"I don't need to look as pretty as you Val. All I need is for you lasses to take a look at me member. All it took for me to get your mother dripping, Dryn."

Val laughed as the boy gave a disgusted look at his father.Maybe his son will kill him for that thought.

Val was surprised that the Squids hadn't surrendered yet. The forces Jon had sent by sea had wiped out any aid that would come from the stony shore and had taken the ships that had been docked in the lake. They had nowhere to go and had been surrounded for a week now.

"There's only 50 of them in the castle!?" Tormund exclaimed to the group of commanders as they approached the front of the siege

"Then why haven't they surrendered yet then if there's so few of them? Or why haven't you just taken it?" Val asked.

Alsyane laughed, "You don't know much about Castles Val. There aren't many of them and it would be easy enough to take it. But we'd lose more men storming those 30-foot walls to get the Squids."

"Besides the bigger issue is the hostages." Laurence said angrily.

Hugo Wull grunted in response, "Aye, the lad's got the right of it. Us Wulls and Flints could have climbed in at the dead of night and slaughtered the lot of them but they'd kill the Tallharts."

Norrey nodded "It's why we're stuck. If we move, they'll kill the Lady Eddara and Lords Brandon and Beron. But we don't want the fucks to leave as free men."

"We have the Greyjoy Bitch though. We could trade her." Val pointed out.

"Then we'd have nobody to trade for Glover's children." Alsyane reminded her.

Jon, who had been staring at the walls as they all talked, finally intervened.

"Have you told them we have the Squid?" Jon asked the group, that deep growl ever present.

Wull shook his head, "No, we've haven't shown her at all when Dagmer first showed his face to talk when we surrounded the castle."

Jon nodded. "Good. I don't want him to know. We don't need her for this lot. Did you get any squids at the stony shore alive?"

Liddle nodded, "A couple."

Jon smiled wolfishly at him, stroking his wolf's head. "Go get them."

He turned to Tormund, "Go bring Wun-Wun and some of the giants."

Dagmer Cleftjaw was an ugly one. Val could see that as she stood to Jon's right. Snow white hair, a scar that ran across his face and a jaw that looked like it had been broken one too many times. He was the last leader of the Iron Born in the North, with two men to his side. Val could see the other squids on top of the walls.

The Squid gave an uncomfortable look at Ghost, then gave Jon a dirty look, "I thought all you wolves were dead. I had drunk me fill knowing that. But here you are, a Stark in the flesh, just like Ned Stark at Pyke."

Val watched Jon eye him up like his wolf did prey, then snarled, "I have terms for your surrender Squid."

Dagmer looked unnerved at the snarl, "What are your terms then wolf? Do they involve what I demanded? Free passage for me and my men?"

"Surrender the castle and you'll be sent to the wall." Jon said with a low growl.

Dagmer looked annoyed, "Those aren't terms boy. Offering us a prison where I can't wet my cock. And they're foolish ones if you want to get the Tallharts back alive."

"They're your only terms Squid." Jon said, snarl growing louder.

Dagmer laughed, "Not a smart one then. You might change your mind after I fuck that Tallhart girl in front of your army. She's made a good saltwife, so eager to please to keep her cousins safe."

The thought of that made Val angry, like the other Northmen present. She'd been told what a saltwife was.A vile thing.It was Jon though that was making the squids uncomfortable. Val wasn't sure who was growling more, Jon or his wolf. But she could tell it was making the Squids behind Dagmer nervous.

The Squid then looked at her, "Might make you jealous. Such a pretty woman left with this pathetic lot."

Val almost reached for her knife to geld the bastard until Jon put his hand on her shoulder. She could feel the heat off him, the anger. He kept his hand there for a moment until a thundering started. Then he gave them all that feral grin she'd seen him wear so often. Val knew exactly why he was smiling, and the squids before her and on top of the walls were getting paler and paler. She turned to see Tormund and Morgan Liddle, holding a squid each, with the giants behind them. Tormund had brought twenty of the two hundred that were with the army, Wun-Wun at the front of them. They were all holding large wooden shields and wooden clubs with spikes. That had been Jon's idea, to give shields and improve their weapons to the giants, a race that mainly used their hands and bows. She knew he intended to make iron and steel weapons and armour. The Karstark and Umber keeps were already building them. Val turned back to the Iron Born as the thundering of fifteen-foot Giants got closer and closer. They were as white as ghost.

When the group of giants arrived, with Tormund and Morgan Liddle, the squids looked truly terrified. Jon's smile grew more and more. The Northmen all seemed to be enjoying the show. Dagmer broke the Iron Born's terrified silence.

"My men will still be able to kill the Tallhart's before they break through."

Dagmer didn't sound confident at all.

Jon smiled wolfishly at him.

"Liddle, put your squid in front of Wun-Wun."

Liddle brought the squid in front of the giant. He looked scared. The giant gave his club to one of the giants. Then picked the squid up. He screamed.

"Tormund, tell Wun-Wun to eat him in ten minutes."

Tormund laughed, "Har! I don't think he'll get much out of the squid."

Val had to hold back her laugh. She knew that giants were vegetarian. She knew the Northmen knew, they'd been told when they worried at the thought of fighting alongside them.But the squids wouldn't.

Jon looked up to the squids on the walls, "Open the gates and take the black, or wait and watch what the giants will do to you!"

Val watched the squids stare and shock as they looked at Wun-Wun eyeing up the Squid in his hand, who continued to scream. They started to move quickly. The two Iron Born behind Dagmer kneeled. Then the gates opened up. Val watched as the Iron Born slowly left, each kneeling in front of the Northmen. Dagmer looked astounded. He couldn't do anything. He was the last to kneel. Wun-Wun put the squid back down, giving a loud laugh.

Jon looked the lot of them for a moment.

"Are there any of you hiding in the castle?" Jon asked with that low growl.

One of them was brave enough to speak, albeit in a stutter. "No. We've all left the keep."

Ghost moved towards the squid, growling and giving a sniff at the man, then returned to Jon.I reckon that wolf would have tore his throat out if he were lying.

"And the Tallharts?" Jon asked, just as menacing as before.

"The dungeons." The squid slowly said.

Jon nodded, "Wull, Norrey, go bring the men into the keep. Alsyane, go get the Tallharts. And Tormund… keep the squids with the giants."

Tormund laughed as him and the giants looked at the squids.

Val watched Jon look at the squids, "You all surrendered! You'll be placed in cells then sent to take the black!"

Val watched him turn to Dagmer, "Your leader though, will be gelded and executed. He only knelt after you surrendered."

Dagmer looked angry. He went to get up but Val unsheathed her dagger and put it at his throat. She unsheathed the other and put it next to his manhood.

"You better watch yourself squid. I'll make a much messier job than Jon will when he gelds and kills you. Will be much slower."

Val heard the Northmen and Tormund laugh, Alsyane's the loudest.

Val held her daggers until a contingent of guards grabbed the man along with the squids. When she sheathed her daggers, she noticed that Jon was looking at her with that wolfish grin, before turning to enter the castle gates.

Once Jon entered the keep, she heard Tormund's boom,

"Har! Seems The Jon's also a wolf in heat!"

Val ignored him. Even if he was right. Jon's smile had something she hadn't seen on him without it being held back. Lust. Val smirked. She wondered which of them would manage to steal the other first.I stole Jarl first. I can steal the White Wolf of Winter.

Hope everyone enjoyed, went fae a lighter chapter. Felt like taking Torrhen's square needed to be quick. Saving for the battles to come. Wanted the removal of the squids to be quick. And the giants being used like that seemed like a good idea. Stopped the Iron Born immediately. Jon offering them the watch is as light a punishment as he's willing to give, also useful fae bolstering the wall. We'll see the more savage Jon when the battle for Winterfell takes place against the Boltons. We'll also get something interesting next chapter too.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 8: The Whispering of an Old Woman

Hope you all Enjoy! Feel Free tae comment as always!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Ben Bones

Ben was sick of her. The Old Woman that had been brought to the Dreadfort had been driving him mad. He was usually a Kennel Master but with the majority of the forces at Winterfell, including the bastard's dogs, he'd become a guard. The old hag had spoken to him every time he had to go into the cells to guard the prisoners. Of all the other prisoners, who were silent, who knew better, she kept rattling on. Always Mocking. Always taunting. Every time he entered, every time a guard told her to stop telling stories to the prisoners.

"The North Remembers little man."

"Winter is Coming for you dog boy."

"Have I ever told you the tale of the Rat Cook?"

"The tales of the Dreadfort always speak of it as such a terrifying place. Maybe it will be for you when the North decides to march on you."

"I wonder what story they'll tell about a dog master felled by wolves?"

"I dreamt of a wolf as big as a horse, with fur as black as night, and yellow eyes as piercing as the sun. I saw it tear your throat out. I look forward to seeing my little Prince again."

The woman was either mad or the most resistant woman in the Dreadfort, loyal to a bunch of dead Starks. He'd struck her once, expecting a hit on an old woman would have stopped her, she just spat in his face and made another comment with that almost toothless smile. Ben would have killed her if the bastard and Lord Bolton hadn't ordered the garrison to keep them alive. They were to be playthings for Roose or Ramsay. That gave him some comfort. Knowing what would happen to her. Women didn't survive the Dreadfort. Not even this old bitch. Regardless of that, the bitch had gotten under his skin, listening to her remarks. It was vexing having to listen until the Boltons returned to play with them.Maybe she'll shut up if I have my way with that Cassel girl.

Ben knew that the Castellan and Maesters hadn't received any ravens since news of Stannis' defeat. They knew very little of what was going on in the North. But then again, that was a norm for the Dreadfort. Not many truly wanted to contact them. He knew his Lords enjoyed that isolation. He quite enjoyed it truthfully. Even a kennel Master of the Dreadfort had power over the smallfolk.

The Dreadfort in the night was probably when it was at his most terrifying. Flayed banners dimly lit by torches. Small statues of flayed men on the tower walls. The penetrating blackness of the walls. It was a true castle to fear. It always emphasised screams. And that was what he heard on this night. It wasn't uncommon to hear screams in the Dreadfort. But those screams came from the dungeons, or Lord Bolton's private chambers. This time they were coming from the walls on the South Side of the fortress. Ben had hoped it was just some of the guards taking liberties with the servants in the night, as he walked towards the screaming. Ben knew it wasn't the moment he saw a large number of torches on the walls, and coming through the walls. Ben was looking at an army. And they'd managed to sneak into the Dreadfort and open the gates. It was a horde of soldiers screaming as they slaughtered the Bolton guards. He could see the banners of the Flints of Widow's Watch, the Hornwoods and House Locke up on the walls. There were banners he didn't recognise as well. Held by men and women that didn't dress like the regular soldiers. He could see a lot of pelts and furs covering their leather armours. And at the front was the banner of House Stark.

Fuck.Ben went white with dread. The Starks were dead, yet the banner was flying. He didn't believe it. Ben knew better than to fight this battle. They'd climbed the walls and gotten through the gates. It was a lost battle. Ben did the only sensible thing and ran, straight to the dungeons.I need a hostage.It was the only good move. To secure that'd he'd live. Ben knew well enough that Bolton men had a noose around their neck if Northmen still flew the banner of Stark.

Ben ran as fast as he could as he heard the growing screams of Bolton soldiers being cut down. They were swarming the castle. The noise didn't lessen as he made his way into the dungeons. The dungeons had become loud too, with a laugh.

"He's coming!"

"He's Coming!"

"A wild wolf returns!"

"Damn Hag Bitch!" Ben cursed as he ran down the stairs, sword unsheathed.I'll kill her then take another of the women as a hostage.The thought made him smile. He'd listened to her speak for too long, just like the other guards. As he walked past each cell, he could hear her laugh even more.

When he finally reached her cell, he could see the old hag in hysterics. She looked happy. Nobody was supposed to look that happy in the Dreadfort.

Ben had finally had enough, "I'll finally kill you hag! I've had enough!"

The old woman stopped laughing at him and just smiled, "Oh the Kennel Master comes to kill me. He knows he's no match for the wolves so comes to kill an old woman!"

She started to laugh again. Ben went to open the cell so he could kill her. A howl stopped him dead in his tracks. It wasn't the howl of a dog, Ben knew that sound too well. It wasn't the sound of a regular wolf either. It was too powerful. Ben slowly turned his head to face the howl. He'd heard stories of Robb Stark's Direwolf.The tales don't do them justice.The thing was massive, almost as big as a horse. Its fur was almost as black as the walls. Ben could see blood in its mouth, dripping on its teeth. The beast was snarling at him with solid yellow eyes looking straight at him.Those eyes are intelligent.He had no chance against this. He was stuck in his place. The Old woman was still laughing.How is she not afraid of this?

"The Kennel Master of the Dreadfort and the Direwolf. I look forward to telling the tale!" the Old woman cackled.

Ben wasn't truly listening as the Direwolf slowly moved down the halls.If I'm lucky I can stab it.

Luck wasn't on Ben's side. He barely saw it cover the distance as if it had taken a step, putting all of its weight on him, sending him to the floor with his sword fallen to the ground. He screamed as the Direwolf tore into him. He screamed until the wolf went for his throat. His eyes slowly darkened, but out of the corner he could see the old woman watching.

"My Little Prince has returned."

Bit of a short chapter which is why it is up so quick. Rickon was at the back of the army because he's 8 but he's a warg so he was partially in shaggy at the time. Thought Old Nan would be tougher than the dreadfort. In the books, theon thinks she's probably dead. I reckon she'd live out of spite and knowledge that the Starks weren't dead. Implied that she has the greensight in this story. This has also happened shortly before Jon takes Torrhen's square so Rickon and the Skagosi are too far away tae fight at winterfell, felt that had tae be solely jon's battle.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 9: Winterfell is mine

Hope you all enjoy! Feel free tae comment as always!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Jon

Winterfell had been restored. That was clear. The signs of the sack and the flames that went with it were gone. Jon had never seen Winterfell in that state of ruin. His bannermen had told him though what had been done to the Capital of the North. Looking at it now, Jon wouldn't have known that it had been taken by Theon Greyjoy. He wouldn't have known that the Boltons had sacked it. Jon could see the great towers, all in their prime, even those that had turned to ruin. The large imposing keeps, designed to keep all of its inhabitants warm It was home… Covered in the banners of Bolton. The sight of the flayed men on Winterfell's walls was more than enough for Jon to slaughter any Boltons where they stood.Let me drown them in their own blood.Jon would control himself in the parley that had been offered by a messenger, sent towards the Wolfswood, where his army lay waiting. Jon and the riders, Mors Umber and Tormund Giantsbane at his side, slowly approached the small group of Horsemen waiting on the moors, holding Bolton banners. Jon and Ghost snarled in unison at the sight as they approached.

As the horses came to a halt, Jon looked straight at the smiling man in the centre of the group. He was ugly, pale skin littered with red rashes. His smile looked off, with teeth mixed in colour, and lips that looked like worms. His eyes were an eyrie pale. His bearing was cocky, as if he ruled the world. The man was adorned in Bolton colours.Ramsay Snow, the bastard that sacked Winterfell.He was accompanied by three others, one in Umber colours,Whoresbane,with the same eyes every man and woman of the first men had given him, studying him. Then there was a man in Ryswell colours, looking uncomfortably at Ghost, and a woman in the Dustin colours. She was looking at him oddly, almost wistfully. That look vanished the moment Ramsay began.

"Ah, if it isn't the bastard of Winterfell in the flesh. The Great stain of House Stark. An Oath breaker and a deserter of the Watch! It's such a pleasure to meet you bastard. Have you come to bring my bride to me? Me and my Father have been most worried about Lady Arya's safety."

The bastard's a fool."Have you and Lord Bolton accepted my offer?"

Ramsay looked slightly confused, still giving that ugly smile, "You mean you were serious about single combat?! Ha! That had amused us all to no end, a desperate attempt from a bastard that knows he can't win a battle with an army of wildlings and traitors against the North! It had even made my father laugh!"

Jon looked at him through Ghost's eyes for a moment, using his wolf's senses. His Direwolf didn't like his smell, he would spit him out when he was done tearing him to pieces.A pathetic piece of prey.Jon smiled, baring his teeth.

"Then I'll see you and the army of the North tomorrow."

He turned his horse and began to ride back with his escort. The bastard shouted at him.

"Is that it bastard? I wonder why my father even wants us to fight you tomorrow on the field. Your army will starve before you even reach our gates in a siege."

Jon stopped his horse, his allies following suit. He looked back at the bastard and laughed as his wolf howled, filling the snowy moors surrounding Winterfell. "Spoken like a true Bastard of Bolton! Craven to the very core!"

Tormund and Mors started to laugh hard.

"Oh, the stories they'll tell, Boltons pissing their breeches as the wolves storm the walls, too craven to meet House Stark in battle!" Mors Bellowed.

Tormund was howling "Har! The Boltons have flayed their own bollocks off!"

Jon kicked his horse, bringing it back into motion as he looked back at the group of Boltons with a savage grin; Ramsay's face redder than his blotches, the Ryswell unnerved, Whoresbane stony and the Dustin woman smiling. Jon was happy,Tomorrow I return home, with Bolton blood covering the Snow. Winterfell is mine bastard. Come and see.

Val

It was snowing in the night as the group finished with the last of their plans, retiring for the night before battle. Val felt confident about it. The Snow was a welcome sight for her. She was at home in the snow, much like all the free folk, and all the North. And it meant a better field for the battle that she knew Jon intended to make. His force was prepared for what was to come on the morn. They'd done a final tally and his army was something close to Twelve Thousand strong. A strong force even though they were likely to be outnumbered by the host at Winterfell. Of the free folk he had some 6000 men and spear wives, and the 200 giants.

Not the full strength of the free folk, the giant clan of 2000 and the women and children of the free folk were still at the wall, waiting for more Free-folk to make it through the wall. And according to Jon, the North could rally some Forty-Five Thousand men given the time. His march and Robb's war in the South did not give him time to truly rally all of the North. Jon had 3500 Clansmen, 500 Umbers, 500 of Alsyane Mormont's bear islanders and Maege Mormont's force of 1000, alongside 300 of Lord Reed's Crannogmen.And Each Bear Islander among them worth ten men if Alsyane's mother is right.Maege's arrival had come with good news that the Moat had been put back under Stark control and that a large portion of Robb Stark's army was guarding it. She watched him smile when she had informed them that they had used some of Robb's plan to take it back. It had tuned into that savage grin when Maege said she was aching for Bolton blood.

"I'll have Roose's leached bollocks on my belt by tomorrow night! And his skull crushed by my Mace"She had announced proudly in the camp, ignoring the lust filled eyes of Tormund.

A woman that might make him want the bear again if he's fool enough to try something with her.Val mused as she walked in the night.

It made Val confident for the fight to come, even if she knew they would be outnumbered. The Boltons had much more time to gather forces than they had. Winterfell made a better position for gathering the North's host according to Jon, who she was watch stroll the camp in the night. He seemed content, albeit restless in the night.What keeps this wolf awake?

"Any reason you're following me in the dark Val?" Jon asked with a small smirk as he turned towards her.

Val smirked back at him, unsurprised that she would have been caught near him.He's got wolf senses now.

"Just wondering what the White Wolf is still doing up while everyone else sleeps. Not nervous for the battle, are you?"

Val smirked as he noticed her tone, playful mocking. Different to how she sounded when he was Lord Commander. Jon shrugged his shoulders at her, keeping his wolfish smirk, "Too eager Val, The Boltons have lived long enough, I look forward to taking my home back."

Val looked at him with her pale blue eyes, staring into those savage grey eyes.

"I hope being in your castle doesn't make you like you were before, acting all like one of Stannis' kneelers. Be a shame to see the White Wolf get tamed and gelded."

Jon raised his eyebrow, stepping slightly closer to her, "Having my home back won't do that to me. I won't be kneeling again."

He lowered his voice as he got a bit closer to her, almost able to touch her honey blonde hair that flowed to her waist, covering her daggers and blade.

"Are you worried? I remember you threatened to geld me Val. Have you changed your mind?"

A Wolf in heat.

Val gave a sly smile at him, "I did Jon, back when you were a Crow and a kneeler, I may still if you don't have a castle to steal me to. You're supposed to take me to your lands."

Jon stared at her lips as she spoke, he practically licked his own as he gave a low growl, "And what makes you think I plan on stealing you Val?"

Val gave a small snort, "I see the way you look at me, you want to rut with me like a wolf. You don't hide it in that wolfish gaze. You won't get me tonight. Not until you take that big castle of yours."

She came in close, she could feel the heat of his breath as she whispered to him, "Even then I'll be the one that steals you."

At that she turned and walked away to her tent, hips swaying with her blonde locks. Val smiled, knowing that Jon stood there for a moment with a low growl escaping his lips as it turned to a grin, piercing through the beard he had grown on the march.He's not the only one that can see out of the back of his head.

Jon

It was snowing lightly as Jon's army formed on the moor, waiting for the Bolton army to leave Winterfell. His forces were mainly foot, with some horse from the Umbers and what he'd taken from Stannis' remaining forces at the wall. Jon wasn't bothered by that in truth. It had been snowing heavy, it would slow any cavalry down on both sides. There would be more cavalry on the Bolton side. Having the castle meant they had less issue keeping larger amounts of horse. They would have larger numbers as well. Jon was ready though, he could feel his blood pumping as he waited. He could feel Ghost's blood going as well; waiting with the majority of the army, hidden in the woods. Waiting until the signal when the Bolton's got cocky, seeing the smaller host. His army was eager too, he could see it in their eyes; that need for vengeance and to spill Bolton and Frey blood. Jon could practically taste the blood that he was about to spill.

Everyone was confident, even if the host would be outnumbered on the battlefield most likely, with Bolton's forces being supported by a significant portion of the North and the Freys. Jon snarled at the thought. It didn't matter, his forces would win. And Whoresbane supports me, I could smell it on him. And strangely enough, he had on the Dustin woman. It was odd, the Dustin woman was a Ryswell by birth from what he'd been told by his banners, and sister of Roose's late wife. They were the most likely to be supporting the Boltons. Jon would trust the instinct though. His father had been right about that. It had been serving well.

"How long until they come?" Laurence asked as the army looked towards the front.

Maege laughed, "The Green Boy's eager for a fight here? Or are you shitting yourself knowing you're going into battle?"

Jon heard Mors and the clansmen start to laugh as well.

Laurence returned the laugh with a grim smile and nod, "Both. I know what the bastard did to my father's wife, My brother's mother."

Morgan Liddle gave a firm slap on Laurence's shoulder, "Don't fear the bastard of Bolton Laurence. Fear dying without giving vengeance to the fuck."

"Fear dying without Bathing in Bolton blood first, without tasting it on your lips for what they've done!" Hugo Wull boomed.

"Fear not living to have another fuck again!" Alsyane grinned, looking at Laurence like a piece of meat.

The lad gulped slightly at that. The Northmen started to laugh harder at it.I wonder if the next Mormont is going to be fathered by a moose.

Their laughter ended when the gates to Winterfell opened. Jon began to watch the Bolton army slowly leave Winterfell and form up opposite him. He snarled at the sight of Bolton and Frey banners, forming at the centre. They weren't the only banners that made up the army. Jon could see the banners of Cerwyn, Tallhart, Flint of Flint's finger, Karstark, Manderly and Umber among other Northern houses. It was a larger host than his own, having had more time to gather forces due to Stannis coming for Winterfell and the keep being designed to hold large quantities of people. Jon noticed that Whoresbane had positioned his forces as far away from where Mors was positioned as possible. Not that Jon planned on his army fighting anyone but Boltons and Freys. From the looking glass he had been given, he could see it was the bastard of Bolton that was to be leading the army. Jon growled at the sight of him, looking smug, as if his victory was assured.

You first Ramsay, then your King slaying father.

Both armies stood still, both sides completely silent as it snowed lightly. It was the first time that two Northern armies were fighting against each other. The last time that had happened was when the Boltons had rebelled. This would be their final rebellion. Jon grinned at the thought, turning his body towards his army.

"There are Freys in the North! They gave our kin a warm welcome at their home! I think we should give them one in return!"

Jon watched as his army began to give grins almost as savage as him. Then he heard the drums begin, and with it the voices of thousands of Northerners, singing in unison and bashing their shields.

Have you ever heard of House Frey?!

The North Remembers House Frey!

A House made of sister and brother fuckers!

Of Cunts and Cravens!

Have you ever heard of House Frey?!

The North Remembers House Frey!

Led by Old Fish Wife Walder!

Who sired an army of oathbreakers and traitors!

Have you ever heard of House Frey?!

The North Remembers House Frey!

They got into bed with House Bolton!

A house that flayed their own bollocks off!

They got into bed with House Bolton!

So, they could fuck something colder than a corpse!

Have you ever heard of House Frey?!

The North Remembers House Frey!

They live no more!

We slaughtered them all!

Frey and Bolton shits alike!

As vengeance for King Robb!

As Vengeance for their Red Wedding!

We fed them to wolves!

Only for them to spit them out!

The North Remembers!

The North Remembers!

The song of the Northern army got the response that Jon wanted. The chant had gotten the Freys in Bolton's army angry. And a contingent of them didn't hold it well either, with them beginning a charge straight across the moor towards them. Jon raised his hand for the pipes to start playing and for Laurence to prepare the archers. Jon watched happily as the Freys got closer to the centre of the field, the banners of the Crossing flowing in the air as their horses rode them towards their death. The front line didn't notice the wooden spears emerge from the thick snow, stabbing their horses in their bellies, causing them to buck and fall into the ground. The lines behind them didn't have time to stop, crashing into the mix of dead and dying horses. Frey soldiers either tried to keep control of their spooked horses, or flew from their horses, landing in the snow. His army gave a cheer and started to chant to the pipes.

"The North Remembers House Frey!"

Jon watched the Freys that hadn't snapped their necks or had been trampled, make for the horses that hadn't been spiked. They were slow, clearly wary. But not wary enough. More wooden spears and knives clawed out of the ground, stabbing at the Freys mercilessly. The Freys tried to stab back but they fell before they had a chance to miss. A few Freys were running towards the horses that were calm enough to ride. The horses bolted before they could get to them, leaving them stranded.A banger from the Crannogmen.Jon grinned as Frey blood gradually covered the snow, as the last Freys that had made a charge were cut down. It wasn't a large number of Bolton's army, a couple hundred at most, but it sent a message.Fear me.Jon could feel it in the enemy army. The Boltons and Freys were nervous. The bastard began to send half of the Frey Force to the left and the other to the right, clearly to circumnavigate the centre of the field. Bolton's pike men began to move forward in front of their horse, stabbing at the ground as they went.

"Bolton's Bastard throwing the Freys first! Piss easy work" The Norrey boomed.

"Doesn't want to waste Northerners, that's what it is!" Maege shouted back.

Jon laughed darkly,He thinks that sending Freys to their deaths while he secures the field will give him the support of the Northern houses. Mad fool.

As the Freys marched and rode around the centre of the field, coming closer, he heard Laurence on the left flank give orders to the archers.

"Knock!"

They waited for a moment.

"Loose!"

The arrows sung true, landing straight into the left flank of Freys. Jon decided he would deal with the right where the Frey Cavalry that wasn't part of the Bolton force.

"Maege, hold the main army! I'll take the horse, will be useless if its boxed in! Mors, we'll kill some Freys!"

The Umber and his horsemen gave a roar, as they thundered towards the Freys. Jon howled as the horses clashed with the Frey knights, clearly unused to the snows of the North. Jon laughed as he slashed through the Freys in the clash, cutting and stabbing at them wherever they were. His Northmen with him were doing the same, eager to avenge their fallen kin. The clash of horses was gradually drowned out by the screams of Freys as he tore through them, faster and more savagely. Jon could hear the Umbers bellowing at the Freys, Mors Umber the loudest.

"The North fucking Remembers Freys!"

"Sister fucking Andals!"

"The North is ours!"

The North had clearly been waiting for this moment.

One Frey Knight tried to strike at Jon's neck as his horse pushed through the Freys. Jon blocked it with Longclaw, pushing the Frey's sword back and then decapitating him in one motion, sending the armoured head flying into the Frey footmen as the horsemen broke, letting Jon and the Umber horsemen take the Frey footmen down, cutting into them like slabs of meat. The blood was flying everywhere as they screamed, trying to fight back against the fury of the North. Everyone that did got cut down harder and more brutally, blood splashing across Jon's face, with his bared teeth. They made short work of the Freys as they turned their attentions to the main force of the enemy.

The Boltons had finally gotten past the centre of the field and the spears of a few Free Folk and Crannogmen that had been hiding under the snow, having taking some more arrows. Nothing major though, being well armoured. Their pike men were now bashing at the shield wall of Jon's foot men, trying to break into their lines, while half their cavalry waited, clearly planning on charging through when the line broke. Ramsay was near the centre of the field, with a small group of archers and pike men, watching in glee.Craven fuck won't even fight with his men.

Jon could see for the briefest moment that his host was pushing back furiously on them, axes and swords slashing at the Boltons in every opportunity.I can smell Bolton blood.The other half was charging towards him, outnumbering his own horsemen.

Jon grinned at the sight of them coming before grabbing the reins, turning it in the opposite direction of them.

"Let's make the bastards work for it!" Jon snarled at his men, all turning their horses, making the Bolton cavalry make chase. He could hear the Boltons chanting as their horses thundered after them.

"Flay!"

"Flay!"

"Flay!"

Jon laughed at the sound of it as their horsemen rode faster, bringing them closer to a part of the woods. They were met with a piercing howl. That was the only signal for Jon to lead his men leftward as Ghost hurtled out of the wood, with hundreds of wolves behind him, snarling and howling as they ran and battered into the Bolton cavalry. Jon wondered if they would see any of Ghost in the cavalry turned to face the Boltons. For a moment he moved fully into Ghost's body; tasting their blood as he tore into their throats, horse and man alike. He could hear their screams as he spat out their flesh.

Then the Bolton cavalry break. Jon nodded towards Mors and his men, and charged straight into the fleeing Boltons with the wolves. Straight into the screaming and savagery. He wasn't surprised to see the flayed fucks break, fleeing back towards where the rest of the fighting was taking place.

Mors howled with laughter at the sight. "Who owns the North?!"

His men answered as they rode with Jon and the massive pack.

"Stark!"

"Stark!"

"Stark!"

Their horses and wolves charged and bolted across the snowy moors, growing bloodier and bloodier, back towards their main force. They were still holding but he could see that the Pike men were starting to tire those at the front, even in their bloodlust to push back and kill any Boltons and Freys in front of them. He noticed Laurence and the archers had pulled back, moving into the woods. Jon's wolfish grin widened.Winterfell is mine bastard, come and see.

Jon howled alongside his wolves charged into more horsemen as they desperately tried to form up as far away from the pike men so the Pike men didn't get targeted by Jon. The wolves and horsemen tore into them. Horses began to fall as the wolves bit into their legs, jumping at their throats. Ghost, the largest of them, was pulling the soldiers off by their legs, tearing them from their horses. Jon and the Umbers continued to slash and hack at them with axes and swords glistening with Bolton blood.

Then the screams were silenced, by a loud, guttural roar.

"Snow!"

Jon turned back to his army, seeing the giants and Free Folk thunder out of the forest, joining the back of the host, with Tormund and Val at the head. One of the giants had thrown a large branch at the Pike men, taking away their own unified formation. That was all the Northmen needed to break through and begin marching forward, with the giants banging their wooden shields as the horde of first men and women broke through the Bolton lines. They were being slaughtered as clansmen, Mormonts and Free Folk tore through the pike men closest, the rest of them starting to rout with the remaining horse, too afraid to stay and fight.

Jon let them run as he waited for his army to catch up to his own position. He looked to Ramsay at the centre. The bastard in all his ugliness looked nervous, motioning to fall back towards the rest of his army. Jon laughed darkly at the sight as he gradually positioned his horsemen at the head of his host. Bolton's bastard had used up what forces that would be loyal to him, thinking it would have been an easy fight. Now there were only the other Northern houses to rely on. And the booming chant that began opposite the field.

"WHO OWNS THE NORTH?!"

"STARK!"

"STARK!"

"STARK!"

That was followed by a volley of arrows and spears, aimed right at the Boltons.

Crowfood laughed loudly, "My brother's going to be pissed that it was him that had to pretend to be nice with the Boltons! Missed all the proper fighting! He only has to block the fuckers!"

Jon grinned as he sped up, starting right at the remaining Bolton and Frey force, looking directly at Ramsay, stuck between two armies of Northmen. The blood of the first men hunting the flayed bastard. Ghost barrelled into them. Red eyes staring at a mad man and bit.

Barbrey Dustin

"Who owns the North?!"

"Stark!"

The battle had been long lost before then. Barbrey had witnessed that on the ramparts. She'd known it as the houses of the North left with Ramsay. Ramsay's force of Freys and Bolton men would be cut down, whether Jon needed help from the Northern Houses that had been at Winterfell, or if he'd truly proven himself the King of Winter. It had turned to the latter and the Northern houses would be glad of it, even if they weren't allowed to fully take their revenge on House Bolton. Barbrey smiled happily, a first in a long time as the armies of the North united, mixed with giants, wolves and wildlings; all behind Brandon's boy.

Brandon, you always knew how to give the best gifts.

It was only a matter of Jon entering Winterfell now. Something which would require a siege. That had been Roose's true plan. He hadn't expected Ramsay to win; and he didn't want the Northern host to be within the walls when Jon won. Roose had wanted them to starve attempting a siege that would take them into Winter, or to disperse back to their keeps, knowing they'd have nowhere to go, with Winterfell, Moat Cailin and the Dreadfort being the only keeps to hold such a large force. The Leech Lord planned on waiting for Winter to come and go in Winterfell whilst the rest of the Northern forces dealt with winter, then let the Lannisters in and help break them. The losses of the Boltons and Freys given to Ramsay were acceptable. He had Bolton forces in the castle, alongside Barbrey's own and her father's.

Barbrey laughed.A shame for him that those blood ties died with Bethany and Domeric.

Barbrey had made short work of convincing her father and brothers to side with her, becoming all the easier with the Crannogmen that had somehow snuck into Winterfell, bringing news that Moat Cailin and the Dreadfort had fallen, with Torrhen's Square and the Stony shore rid of the squids. Her father had been quick to join her plans.

Barbrey walked down the ramparts with a smile, watching Bolton banners fall down the walls in the muddy snow outside of the castle, being replaced with Stark banners, hidden in the crypts by Northmen. She watched happily as drugged Bolton men got slaughtered by Ryswell and Dustin men alike.I wonder if this is what the Red Wedding was like when Tully and her whelp died, slaughtered.She snorted at the thought. She didn't like Tully and her children with Ned too much, their deaths didn't weigh on her. But betraying guest rights betrayed the North, something she would never tolerate.It isn't breaking of guest rights when the Boltons never belonged in Winterfell, a place of wolves.

Her smile grew as she saw her brother, Rickard, with the Crannogmen dragging Roose Bolton in chains towards the gate, a gift for Jon. The Lord look as emotionless as ever, though she swore there was a small look of surprise on his face. Roose was the worse of the two Boltons; infinitely crueller and more cunning than Ramsay, but even he had blind spots, assuming that Ryswell and Dustin would have the most to gain under Bolton rule. Barbrey's disdain for Ned Stark must have helped with that idea. Nobody truly liked the Boltons, even her ambitious father didn't truly.

"Comfortable Lord Bolton?" She asked innocently

Bolton looked at her with that emotionless expression, "More comfortable than Domeric was when he died by my bastard's hands."

Barbrey scowled at him. "I doubt you will soon. A Stark comes to kill you."

He turned to the gates, speaking quietly, "A quick death then."

Barbrey doubted that.

She heard the sound of the gates open as she took her position, smiling Roose Bolton with the rest of her family in the courtyard. It didn't take long for the Northmen to enter. She could all the ones that had stayed in Winterfell. Fat Wyman Manderly, grinning with the clansmen and Mormonts. Lord Cerwyn, with a look of relief on his face, free of Boltons. And Whoresbane Umber, laughing with his brother who was covered in Bolton and Frey Blood. The only Northmen that looked nervous were the Karstark lords, they weren't in chains though. She had seen their banners wait with the Manderly forces surrounding them in the battle. None of them mattered to her though. It was the blood drenched Northman that she had eyes on, with a horse sized Direwolf by his side. She could see that Stark look. Long face, hardened by the cold. A dark beard, drenched in blood, glistening on the hairs. And Grey eyes, with that wildness in them she had seen on Brandon. Barbrey's lips curved into a smile.

Brandon's son walked purposefully towards her, dragging Ramsay Snow with his hand. The bastard looked almost torn apart. She could see his tortured breathing, and a knife placed in his ribs. Jon was growling at Domeric's killer.

"Winterfell is Mine Bastard, Come and See."

She missed that deep growling voice. He never belonged at the wall.

Barbrey stepped forward to him, Rickard bringing Bolton forward.

"Winterfell is yours my King."

Jon looked at her funnily with a solemn face.I can see why they saw Ned Stark in him.Then she saw what she had been aching for, a savage grin. A wild one.

He turned his attention to Lord Bolton, with him and his wolf snarling at him. Bolton didn't flinch unsurprisingly.

Jon growled, "King slayer."

Barbrey watched as Jon didn't hesitate to grab the man by his chains. Dragging the two Boltons across the courtyard, in the direction of the Godswood. The Northern Lords and Ladies followed as troops slowly entered the keep. She followed quickly, listening to the pained moans of Ramsay Snow as Jon and his wolf led them into the wood. It didn't take long for them to reach the wood, and the heart tree opposite the small pond. Jon had dropped the two Boltons in front of them, the first men and women surrounding them.

Jon snarled at Ramsay.

"Words."

Ramsay tried to laugh through his pain. It turned to coughing up blood. Barbrey could see that the wolf had bitten him across his torso. And Jon must have beaten him some as well. Ramsay spoke slowly, rasping.

"Did you like what I did to Arya Stark? I heard she was your favourite sibling."

Jon removed the black knife that was in Ramsay's side then stabbed it right where his cock would be. The bastard screamed, coughing up more blood. Jon wasn't finished though, unsheathing his bloodied sword. He stopped for a moment, looking the bastard straight in the eyes as he gutted him, twisting the entrails around the sword and removing them slowly, before swinging the entrail covered sword at Ramsay's head, rolling in front of Roose Bolton.He's finally taken that smile away from the bastard's face.

Jon faced Lord Bolton, whose pale, dead face was now covered in his bastard's blood. Jon snarled more violently, his wolf echoing as it circled around Lord Bolton.

"Words King Slayer!"

Bolton was just silent. Jon stared angrily before nodding. He impaled Roose, moving the sword slowly down towards Roose's stomach, making the Bolton grunt. Jon removed the man's stomach, the cut Roose's head off. Barbrey didn't look away from any of it as Jon offered the entrails and heads to the heart tree, now drenched in Bolton blood. The face of the heart tree looked alive, as wild as Jon. Barbrey smiled.My sister's killer is dead and so is her son. And My Brandon's boy lives on.

"Welcome home King Jon Stark, son of Brandon."

Barbrey said cheerfully.A True Stark of Winterfell was home.

Hope you all enjoyed! Hope it went well, was a longer chapter and I hope I got the battle right. I went with the Northern conspiracy because it is evident in the books. It was something that had to exist. Hope I got a bloody and interesting battle fae you all. Took me a while tae write. We'll be getting reactions of the battle soon and a homecoming as well for Rickon. Some more interesting stuff will come with other characters a bit further away from the North.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 10: The Wolf and the Giant

Hope you all enjoy, feel free tae comment as always! Oh and sorry it came late, my laptop charger broke so needed tae get a new one before I could post, had no battery by the time I realised.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Arya

Serving the wine to the Freys at The Twins was another reminder that Arya Stark could never truly be no-one. There was too much that had been done to her family for her to truly forget who she was. She was a Northerner.And the North Remembers.It wasn't the knowledge that House Frey's crimes against House Stark that had brought Arya back to Westeros. It wasn't the Lannisters or the Boltons. It wasn't the Mountain and all the others on her list. It was the nightmare of Jon that had killed any hope of Arya Stark becoming no-one. Feeling the knives enter Jon's heart as his pale excuse for brothers killed him had brought a scream to her as she woke. Seeing those grey eyes turn lifeless was too much.The eyes we shared with Father.It had awoken her.

She was a Stark of the North. Arya didn't belong on the other side of the world, trying to forget herself. Jon needed her, whether it be for vengeance or to keep the daggers away from him. Jon had saved her more than she could believe, simply by giving her Needle. For understanding me all those years.Arya wouldn't allow her brother to go unavenged. Arya wouldn't allow her brother to die alone in the cold, surrounded by traitors.The Lone Wolf dies but the pack survives.

That nightmare of Jon had carried her all the way to the docks to secure passage home. It had carried her through her fight with the Waif; using Needle to send her to the Many-faced God. Ending her with needle felt like she had done it with Jon by her side. Arya had held it firmly when she made a pact in the House of Black and White. Arya Stark's freedom in exchange for an offering to the Many-Faced God. Her freedom demanded deaths. Arya knew who she would offer them.

"A family of Freys that betrayed Guest Rights will be my price for freedom. An offering to the Many-Faced God and fulfilment of contracts that many would place if they could afford it."

Arya promised that they would hear the tale from the merchants soon, as proof that she had completed her task. The Kindly Man believed her words, and let her go free. She had asked why, having expected him to refuse. He had only smiled sincerely, as he always had.

"A girl does not understand what this house is truly for. It is to make people no-one, whether in life or by death. What you offer is worth a girl becoming Arya Stark until death makes you no-one. A man can wait until death takes you."

"But not today."Arya had replied simply as she began to leave the house.

The Kindly man continued to smile."Not today No."

Her freedom had allowed Arya to truly enjoy her dreams again. Arya had dreamed a lot as she sailed Westward. She dreamt of the pack. She dreamt of her wolf; prowling the Riverlands with her pack, calling to her. The Night Wolf called to her and they reunited in the woods as she walked Northward. Arya had dreamed of Shaggy too. The youngest of the pack returned, heading homeward too. And it was Jon who She had dreamed of most once when she had reunited with Nymeria. Arya felt him with Ghost, marching Southward, with an army at his back. She could feel him changed, more like a wolf.I've changed too.It didn't matter though. He was home. At Winterfell. That had been all she needed to know that her Jon was not gone. It had made her smile.Some roads lead to the same castle and I'll join you soon.Arya thought as she finished her preparations for the evening in the Twins, looking at Walder Frey with a small smile.

The North Remembers Lord Frey,

Great Jon Umber

The Freys only dared to go near the Great Jon Umber's cell to bring food. Even then it was right next to the cell door. It had taken eight men to put him in chains. One had been killed by that toothpick of a sword he thought would contain a Northman. Three had been maimed with it and Great Jon Umber's teeth as well. Another two had been killed when they thought it wise to attach chains to the stone floors. The Great Jon had managed to get their throats with his teeth that time. Nobody came close after that, keeping close to the walls when they wanted to mock him and the few other hostages the Freys held.

"How glorious it was to see your son take a crossbow to the skull!"

"You missed our parade for the King in the North. We attached his wolf's head to him, was such a frightening sight!"

"The North belongs to Roose Bolton now, a loyal subject of the crown, about time the North was led by men and not wolves!

"I hear you have a second born son! I hope he's as loyal as you, then I'll get to kill him like your eldest. Then your daughters will be mine to wed!"

Jon wasn't silent when they spoke. He wasn't wailing with grief when they threw his son's bones into the cell. Umber only gave them rage. The Great Jon didn't give House Frey the satisfaction of breaking. A Frey couldn't break an Umber.Nobody breaks an Umber.He'd made them feel fear. He'd roared and he'd raged, pulling at his chains every time they came. He'd swore and he'd cursed.

"I'll gut you all with my bare hands and crush your skulls with my feet!"

"I'll tear your bridge down and use it to bury their corpses under the river!"

He wouldn't stop raging until he knew he would have the chance to kill them. He ate everything that came his way to keep his strength to do. He would kill them all. Then he would head North and drag Bolton to the wall just so he could smash his skull off it.

And the time had come.

Roslin Frey, now Tully, often came down to speak with her brother Olyvar, a fellow prisoner for trying to free what hostages the Freys had. A few nights ago, Lady Tully had come down with her new-born son, bringing news that Stark Banners were flying over Moat Cailin once again, no longer Squid or Bolton ones. Frey troops had been ambushed when they were marching North, bringing more of their brood to get prospective brides. Few had survived it, and those that did had been poisoned. Dying in the beds as they shit their guts outs That meant only one thing to the Great Jon.The will had made it to the wall!And a Stark was retaking the North.

He'd chanted every time the Freys entered the dungeon, alongside his fellow prisoners.; Olyvar Frey, Marq Piper; and Harrion Karstark who had been brought to the Twins as a punishment for his family offering support to Stannis. The hostages chanted the same words every time.

"The North Remembers! The King in the North!"

"The North Remembers! The King in the North!"

"The North Remembers! The King in the North!"

Then the Freys came to the dungeons, a group of ten, all looking nervous and drunk. They were coming for his cell. The Great Jon roared.

One tried to be brave and answer his roar, "You won't be snarling like an animal soon. We've been sent a letter from Winterfell covered in blood. Our family and the Boltons have been killed by a Stark bastard. I imagine your brood of savage giants were helping him. You and Karstark pay the price for the North misbehaving!"

Great Jon laughed, echoing the cells as they walked apprehensively. They all looked nervous, unsure how to proceed and give the killing blow to him. Umber wouldn't give them the chance.My family doesn't have house words; a picture paints a thousand words and we are giants breaking from chains.

He gave a blood curdling roar as he pulled at the chains, snapping the iron rings from the stone floor. He didn't give them the time to charge or move back as he whipped one of them in the face with the iron; then running at him and punching him in the jaw and sending him to the stone floor. He heard the man's skull crack against the stone. The Great Jon roared at the Freys, so clearly afraid as he snapped the nearest one's neck.

"UMBER!"

He roared his house name as he battered them, swatting their toothpick swords away with his irons, then disembowelling them with their own weapons and smashing their skulls against the iron cell doors.

"UMBER!"

One dared to get close to him; The Great Jon strangled him with his irons. He did the same with them all, using his hands, teeth and shit excuse for a sword to tear them apart. He made quick work of the guards, only two left alive, one breathing heavily on the floor, trying to crawl away. Umber placed his foot on the Frey's skull and crushed it, hearing the pathetic excuse of a man scream as he died. He didn't let the last Frey leave, grabbing him by his neck and raising him to his level. The Great Jon snarled at the screaming Frey. He clenched his right hand, missing two fingers, and punched the Frey repeatedly into the gut. He did it until he punched a cut in the skin. Then he tore at the cut, ripping flesh from his stomach. The Great Jon dropped the Frey and slammed his foot into his throat.

The Great Jon grabbed the keys to the cells then turned to his fellow hostages and gave them a grin as he released them. He was covered in blood.

Piper gave him a face mixed with relief and horror. The others had given similar looks. The Great Jon only grinned more.

"Your banners speak the truth then? You are descended from giants?"

The Great Jon laughed at the Riverman as he revelled in Frey blood.

"What's our plan then here Umber?" Harrion asked as he went to grab the dead Freys' swords from the blood drenched cell, handing them to the others.

"We kill every Frey in our path and head North to fight with our King! Then we come back with an army and slaughter the rest!"

"What of my sister?" Olyvar asked nervously.

"We go get her and your nephew lad and take her North too lad! Don't worry, we won't make you kill any of your kin! I'll be killing every Frey I see!"

Olyvar looked uncomfortable but nodded at him.

It had become apparent as the group made their way through their halls that the Freys must have been having a feast. The halls were quiet as they made there way to Roslin's chambers, getting her and the babe to bring North. It was going smoothly, with the group only having to kill small numbers of Freys. Then they heard the screams from the halls. And the sound of howling. The sound of wolves. The group walked slowly at this point. Something was happening in the hall and for their escape they would have to go past it. Even if it was dangerous. Great Jon led from the front with Karstark, whilst Olyvar and Piper guarded Roslin and their liege Lord's son from the back. As they slowly reached the hall, the Great Jon was given a bloody sight.

He could see all the Frey men being torn apart by wolves. A massive pack of them mauling the Freys at their tables. He could see some try to run, only to be jumped upon by more. It was a glorious sight.The North Remembers.And at the head table, he could see a Direwolf, almost as large as a horse, snarling at Walder Frey as he was being held by a girl with dark hair, holding a small sword. The Great Jon watched her whisper something into the old cunt's ear, then slit his throat, dropping the Old Lord into the table. The sight was a brutal one but it was just, the Freys had deserved every piece of it for breaking Guest Rights. The Direwolf turned its head to them, and all the wolves turned with it. They were staring at them.

The young woman looked towards them, then walked in front of the massive pack, speaking calmly.

"Lord Umber, I haven't seen you since the last feast of the bannermen at Winterfell. It is good to see you."

She was short, with long brown hair done in the Northern style and dressed in breeches. Her accent had a light Northern accent with some things slightly different. She looked familiar, almost like Lyanna Stark. As she got closer, he saw the eyes, Stark Grey. Great Jon kneeled before her, the rest of the group followed suit.

The Great Jon gave a joyous bellow into the hall despite the horror of it.

"Princess Arya Stark! House umber is yours!"

Arya smiled at him with an exasperated sigh. Her wolves prowling around her.Winter had come for House Frey.

Bit of a shorter one but I wanted rid of the Freys and tae have the whole faceless men thing dealt wae. The faceless men in this I tried tae give a short answer on what they want exactly. Arya hasnae learnt how tae steal faces and make them in this, she's just lethal as an assassin now. This has happened a bit after the events of the next chapter btw, hence the message the Freys got. Next chapter will return tae the North, starting wae Davos arriving at Winterfell alongsidee Rickon and the Skagosi.

The chapter after it will be the reaction chapters tae Jon taking back winterfell from the South properly. So Lannisters, Baelish and the Targaryens

Hope you all enjoyed it and feel free tae comment!

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 11: Pack

Hope you all enjoy, feel free tae comment as always!!!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Davos

There was an air of excitement within the Northern Host; to reach Winterfell and for Rickon Stark to be reunited with his brother, Jon Snow, the man that had taken the North back. Davos could see that happiness on Rickon’s face. Even if the lad kept calling Jon his father. It saddened him every time he heard the boy make the mistake when speaking with Osha, the Stark bannermen and the women that had been freed from the Dreadfort. The eldest of those hostages had been a help, telling the lad tales of Jon in his youth. He’d heard more than a few that had made the lad smile, of how the boy and Jon would be the Starks of Winterfell again.

Davos was anxious to reach Winterfell for different reasons. His King had died in battle before the Starks could reclaim the North. For all that Davos had succeeded in finding Rickon Stark, he wasn’t quick enough to secure Stannis’ survival. I’ve failed him like my eldest sons. Stannis’ death had brought questions too. Cotter Pyke knew little when he’d told him, having only read a brief statement from Jon in his missive stating that Stannis was dead. Davos didn’t know anything about his son, Devan. He can’t have died with Stannis. It hurt to think that he might have doomed another of his sons for committing to Stannis Baratheon.

And the princess. It would also kill him if Shireen had died with her father. Davos had cared for the girl a long time. She’d always been smart and sweet. He didn’t know whether the Princess Shireen lived either, now Queen Shireen, the only trueborn Baratheon left. Davos knew Stannis would have expected his hand to support Shireen’s right as the Hand of the King. And I would, she has the makings of a great Queen, good and kind, smart and brave for all she’s lived through. But Davos knew it would commit her to death now that Stannis was gone. Very little support from the Stormlands, the fact that she was a woman and a one marred with Greyscale on her cheek meant that she had no true support besides himself. And the March with Rickon’s host of Northern houses of the mainland and the Skagosi houses, numbering six thousand strong, had proven that she would not have the North either. We know no King but the King in the North whose name is Stark. Davos had heard that more than enough in the taking of the Dreadfort and in its aftermath. The Northmen were all set to declare Jon as the King in the North, and Rickon as his Prince and heir. If Shireen lived, Davos doubted she would have their support. If she lives, I promise I will protect her, I can do that, Davos had vowed to himself as they rode closer to the great walls of Winterfell, Stark banners flying on them.

“It’s good to be home, free of squids and flayers!”

Old Nan said with a smile as they entered through the gates, leading Beth Cassel and what few women with her. He heard a few of the Skagosi and Flints laugh with her. She was the most upbeat of the women that they had found in the cells of the Dreadfort. The one they said had driven the men of the Dreadfort mad with her constant berating of them. The woman had only given a toothless grin at their words when that had been said one night.

Davos could only nod as he watched Rickon move faster with that massive wolf of his beside him. The thing had been a savage at the Dreadfort, and he’d heard that his brother had one too. I wonder what the two wolves would be able to accomplish together. He was soon to get an answer as he entered the courtyard, seeing a small group waiting, with a dark-haired man and a blonde woman standing at the front. And a White wolf with blood red eyes by the man’s side. Davos was shocked, The Wolf’s bigger than Rickon’s and that’s the size of a small horse. Davos watched in silence, as did the courtyard as the White Wolf and ShaggyDog both moved slowly forward, leaving their masters, circling each other.

Old Nan whispered to him, “The two are assessing whose head of the Pack. I once saw Edwyle Stark do the same with his brother.”

Davos barely heard that as he watched Rickon’s wolf give a snarl and a rabid shout. The White wolf looked unimpressed, giving a howl louder than anything he’d ever heard, louder than any storm. Rickon’s wolf stared at the White Wolf for a second, then lay on its belly and wagged its tail. The giant White wolf approached, gave a sniff, then a lick on the top of its head. Both wolves wagged their tails and howled into the courtyard, then ran off, playing with each other. Davos was stunned. Old Nan simply smiled.

“They know they’re pack, brothers from birth until the end. And Shaggy knows who leads them.”

Davos wordlessly nodded as he turned his attention back to the wolves’ masters. He didn’t know much about Jon but from the way he looked and held himself, he could see how the lad had beaten back the Boltons. He looks ready for war. That didn’t matter to Rickon. Rickon had bolted towards Jon with a cry.

“Da! Jon!”

He watched as Jon, who was dressed for battle, crouch down as the lad engulfed him in a hug. Davos could hear the child sobbing. He wondered when the last time the child had cried, he’d been too hardened for an eight-year-old in Davos’ eyes. He hadn’t expected tears. Maybe the lad had cried from the nightmare he had told when we first met. Davos watched as Rickon sobbed in Jon’s arms for a long time, before calming himself to give pained words.

“I thought you were dead! I watched it in my dreams!”

Jon broke the hug, giving his brother a smile.

“I had thought you were dead too Rickon, I’m glad we’re both wrong.” Jon replied with the deep Northern accent.

The two hugged again for a moment, the courtyard watching. It ended with the two finally standing, Rickon with a tearful smile and Jon with a grin. The Skagosi will like him, that grin would be natural on that island. Davos waited as he watched the chiefs from Skagos, the Lockes and Flints and the hostages from the Dreadfort speak with Jon. He could see them all measure him up, then nod approvingly as they were offered guest rights into Winterfell. None of them kneeled, though Davos could see the respect they had for the man they were greeting. A rare thing for a bastard to get such respect from Lord, Davos thought as he watched them greet him. None of them Skagosi called him Lord, simply calling him The Jon. Davos was the last one to approach, after the rest gradually left. Only the blonde woman and Rickon were left standing with him; Rickon clinging to Jon’s side.

“The Jon.” Davos said, unsure on what way to address him properly.

Jon looked at him and gave him a grin, offering his hand, “Lord Manderly and the Lords you’ve been travelling with have told me about you Ser Davos. Know you and House Seaworth will always be welcome at Winterfell and in the North!”

Davos took the hand, Jon gripped his arm firmly. “I was doing my duty.”

Jon nodded at him becoming more serious, “Aye, I know, doing your duty for King Stannis.”

Not a cold comment, just a statement of fact.

“And now he is dead. I was hoping to find out what’s become of his family, and my son if they still live. Last, I had heard the Queen was at the wall. My son… he was Stannis’ squire.” Davos said, almost a nervous ramble.

Jon nodded. “The Queen and her Red Witch are dead Ser Davos. I killed them myself for trying to burn the Princess Shireen. They wanted to sacrifice her to revive Stannis. Her soldiers have taken the black for allowing it.”

Davos felt himself hold his breath as he listened to Jon speak of the event, a snarl in his voice like those wolves. Burnt alive by her own mother?

“The Princess Shireen lives, we managed to get there before the flames reached the pyre. She’s not long arrived at Winterfell with your son, Devan. A loyal lad.”

Davos felt his body unclench at the words and relief fill his face. “They both live.”

Jon gave him that almost savage grin, “Aye, and both well. I’ll have someone take you to their guest quarters. Much like yourself, they’ll always be welcome in the North.”

“Thank you” was all Davos could say to the man, the knowledge that his son and Shireen lived was all he could think of. It was all he could think of as he was guided through Winterfell, straight to them. My luck hasn’t run out just yet.

Jon

Being home in Winterfell was not a thing Jon expected to ever do again in his life. Feeling the warmth from the hot springs coursing through the walls. Walking in the Godswood, with the power of the Old Gods watching, ever-present. Being surrounded by Stark banners. The symbol of the North. It was Euphoric to be home, to have it no longer in the hands of squids and Flayed Fucks. Seeing all the Lords and Ladies of the North come to Winterfell in support of House Stark had made him grin. And having another member of the pack returned home had made it all the better; seeing his brother had brought him more joy than executing Bolton and his bastard had given him. Winterfell felt truly like home with one of his family returned, to have a part of the pack come back. “Winterfell is ours.” He had whispered to his brother as they had hugged in the Courtyard. Jon wouldn’t let it fall out of Stark hands again. The North wouldn’t fall into Southern hands. He had vowed it in his mind as he gutted the Boltons. And he would vow it again tonight at the first meeting of the banners when he showed them the bodies that had finally turned in the ice cells.

“Thinking about your kneelers again Jon?”

Val asked lightly with a smirk as she lay sprawled across the bed with him, her honey blonde hair flowing over her bare hips. She was stunning. Jon couldn’t help but look at her with lust filled eyes, roaming down her body as he lay beside her. I’m a wolf in heat. They’d been rutting like wolves since they’d taken back Winterfell, taking each other in the Lord’s chamber. Jon wasn’t sure who had managed to steal the other in the end. All he knew was it had ended with her riding him and his tongue. For Val, that seemed to be an indication that she’d stolen him. He thought otherwise every time she bucked her hips to him with her pupils dilating, filling the room and the halls of Winterfell as they grunted and screamed. Honestly, Jon didn’t care who had truly done the stealing; he was content, happy… alive .

Jon grinned at her as he placed his hand on her thigh, brushing it. He brought his grey eyes towards her blue and spoke almost lazily.

“A little, more that I’m hoping Tormund won’t do anything too brash at this.”

Val kept smirking, moving her eyes between him and his hand. “I’m sure the infamous she-bear will keep him in check.”

Jon couldn’t help but laugh at that. The stories of Shelia the bear had turned out to be an embellishment of the truth, having lain with the Lady of Bear Island in his past. And had become one of the answers to how Mormont women had children. Jon doubted that Maege’s youngest, Lyanna, would be pleased at the revelation that the bear who fathered her was the definition of a wildling.

“Aye, I doubt he’ll want to displease her if he wants to warm her bed again.”

Val brought her head back onto the pillow as she gave a full laugh. Jon laughed with her as he watched her hair shift to the side, showing her full cleavage rise with her chest.

“I wonder how the kneelers we haven’t fought beside think about us all.” She said lightly as they calmed down. He still had his hand on her thigh, moving ever further to her centre.

Jon might have worried about that once. But he’d seen them all mingle on the march and at Winterfell, each testing each other’s mettle as each of the Lords arrived. They were the blood of the First Men and it showed. And if any don’t, they will, Winter is Coming and I won’t have the blood of the First Men divided.

Jon shook his head with a smile. “There won’t be any problems. You’re all blood of the First Men, of the North, just like them. Besides, there won’t be any arguments when they see you at my side.”

Val gave a flirtatious smile, “I look forward to seeing their faces when they see that their leader has been stolen by me.”

Jon gave a lust filled grin, “I think they’ll see it the other way around Val.”

He didn’t let her respond as he cupped her face and kissed her deeply, then slowly moving down to her teats and curves. Jon grinned as he made his way further down, enjoying her body and her growing moans. They’ll know I’ve stolen you when they walk these halls as you scream in joy.

Davos

The Northern bannermen made a loud bunch in the Great Keep of Winterfell. The mix of Mainlanders, Free Folk and the Skagosi had made the occasion a raucous one. Davos wasn’t sure whether the affair would have turned to bloodshed. He knew how they had all viewed each other. But it hadn’t come to that amazingly. The fact that they were all blood of the first men seemed to prevent that, or it least resulted in fights being a way of testing each other as Northmen. Davos had seen the Locke, Flint and Hornwood troops do the same when they had met the Skagosi for the first time.

And that had worked out well in the end.

Davos thought with a smile as he sat with his son and Shireen, happy to be with the two despite the hardships they had all suffered. You might not have thought it the way Shireen speaks. Shireen had been happily teaching him and Devan all of the Sigils of the Northern Houses that were in the hall. Something they needed. They were the only three of the Baratheon party left, and the only ones from the South of the Neck in the room. It didn’t seem to matter to anyone in the hall, Davos knew, much like them, knew that Shireen would not be making her claim. The Princess didn’t particularly want to either. “I’d rather not go South where everyone shunned my father. I only will if the realm requires it.” Davos had smiled at the words. They weren’t ones for debate, she had been very much like her Father in that moment. For now, the Princess Shireen and House Seaworth to be guests of the North, free to leave if they pleased, but the North was the safest, even with the threat that Stannis had been warned about was coming.

Davos continued drinking with his family as he listened to the Lords starting to argue about where to start fighting, whether it be the Freys at the Crossing, the Squids on the Iron Islands.

“They’re out for blood.” Shireen said quietly.

Davos could only agree with that. “Aye they are, you haven’t seen them all fight. They’ve got a bloodlust on them for vengeance.”

“Where do you think the North will strike first?” His son asked.

Shireen gave an answer, having clearly thought about it. “The Crossing. I would say there. It is the nearest to the North and with a large portion of their armies destroyed here, the Freys will be most vulnerable. And they have the most blood on their hands directly.”

Davos couldn’t help but smile, “The Red Wedding was a death sentence for House Frey. They just didn’t know it.”

Davos took a drink, watching the hall quieten as Jon stood from his seat at the head table, in response to Lords’ argument. He’d spent most of the night speaking with any Lord or Lady that approached his table, recently though he had been speaking with a black brother. Davos could see that the Hall was completely silent. I can see why the Lords say he’s a terror in the battlefield, Davos thought as he looked at Jon Snow. Once again, Rickon’s brother, cousin in truth as the Lords all say, was dressed for battle; full Northern attire with stark colours, sword at the hip and knife at the leg, with a long face etched with a savagery to it, even in its serious form. The Northmen were all looking to the head table now, with Jon at the centre, Rickon to his right and Val, the wildling woman to his left. The two Direwolves were lounging by their side. Jon’s voice was calm, but it projected across the walls.

“The Boltons betrayed us. They’re dead. The Squids that infested the North are dead. The Freys that came North to take our lands are dead.”

Davos watched the Lords and Ladies in the room clank their tankards at the words.

Jon’s face turned to a snarl as he spoke. He heard the two Direwolves growl with him.

“And I know just like everyone one of you here that more blood needs to be spilled. Walder Frey and his crossing still stands, Pyke and the Squids still stand on their islands. And Cersei Lannister and her brood of incestuous Lannisters still live in King’s Landing. We’ll make them suffer.”

Davos could hear the Lords getting riled up at the thought of the Lannisters.

“But not with the bulk of our forces. Winter is Coming, and the North must be prepared for it. I won’t have us starve in Winter… I won’t have the North fall to the Others.”

A lot of the Free-Folk seemed to tense. Some of the Northern Lords were looking at him with a grimace. Others looked slightly confused at the final remark. Jon didn’t give them time to respond, motioning for one of the guards to open the doorway. A piercing screech came as the door opened. The wolves were starting to growl. A group of ten black brothers had entered, some holding lit sconces and swords. The others, they were holding the chains of the three screeching corpses. Corpses that were trying to free themselves, trying to claw at anything and everyone. They were not of this world. The childhood stories of the Others were true. Dead men

It was a terrifying sight, seeing corpses of men, with a mix of visible bone and rotting skin, with bright blue eyes shining. They were a horrific sight as they tried to claw at them. The men and women in the hall looked at them grimly, some going pale, others not hiding their fear. Davos watched his son go white as a sheet. He placed his hand on the lad’s shoulder. It wasn’t much comfort in Davos’ eyes, he was as terrified as everyone else in the hall. Davos turned back to Jon, he looked angry as he stared at the dead men.

Two of the brothers edged closer, bringing their sconces to one of them. It set alight and burned until it turned to ash. The two others were screeching.

“Take the other two back to the cells, keep them in the coldest part!” Jon bellowed.

The black brothers nodded, dragging the dead men back out of the hall, he could hear the screeching until the door shut. The hall was tense and silent, all staring at the ashen pile, then towards Jon. The Crowl was the first to speak.

“How many are there?” The Old Skagosi asked.

One of the Free Folk responded, “Enough to make us try and break through the wall.”

Jon answered calmly,

“The brothers at the watch that survived at the Fist of the First Men said there were thousands of them. They weren’t sure how much of their army even attacked them.”

“Is fire how we kill them then?” Lord Manderly asked with a shaken voice.

Jon nodded, “Fire and hacking them to bits with our swords and axes kills the Wights. The things that command them though, only Dragon Glass is known to do it. Maybe Valyrian Steel if the records at the wall.”

The hall started grumbling at that. Shireen leaned in to them. “Father had been sending Obsidian to the wall from Dragon Stone when he was told by Jon. It only comes from volcanic areas.”

“Skagos will have some then, I’ve seen them wield daggers made from it.” Davos whispered to her.

Lord Cerwyn spoke up, “Do we have a chance against them?”

The hall went silent for a long moment, then he heard a bellowing laugh from down his table. It was Crowfood and Whoresbane Umber, with the young Ned Umber nestled in between. Whoresbane stood up, waving his tankard.

“Aye we do Cerwyn! We’re Northmen for fuck’s sake! The Blood of the First Men! Those dead men might have made us piss our breeches but we beat them once! We’ll do it to the Cunts again!”

Davos heard some of the Northerners and Free-Folk bang their tankards off the table in approval.

Lord Wull of the clans stood up, raising his tankard to Jon “And we’ve all seen The Jon fight the Boltons! He’ll make Brandon the Breaker look like a Green Boy when he’s done with the others!”

The clansmen started chanting with him.

“The Jon!”

“The Jon!”

“The Jon!”

Lady Mormont seemed to take that as a cue to speak, shouting over them, “It’s time we reminded the Others who the King of Winter is!”

She then turned to Lord Reed, a short man. “You have the will.”

Davos looked at Jon, he looked interested.

Lord Reed nodded, “As some of you know, King Robb had made a will before his death, declaring Jon as his heir to the North. The King in the North should Robb fall. A Stark in name as well as his blood. I intend to support it, we need a man of house Stark to do it.”

At the head table, Jon Snow gave a smile.

“We don’t need the will to say that. King Jon Stark did that the moment he took the squids out od Deepwood Motte. I declared him a King the moment he walked through Winterfell.” Lady Dustin stated firmly. She got up from her table, motioning for one of her men to give her his sword. She placed it into the ground, facing Jon.

“King Jon Stark, son of Brandon, The King in the North!!!” She shouted.

Lord Manderly followed, “You avenged my son, I fight with the King in the North!!!”

Davos watched as one by one, everyone in the hall did the same, declaring for Jon Snow, now Stark. Even the young Rickon was shouting with them.

“The King in the North!!!”

“The King in the North!!!”

“The Jon!!!”

“The King of Winter!!!!”

“The King in the North!!!”

“The King in the North!!!”

Davos stood alongside his son and the Princess Shireen among the chants of the first men, declaring for the King of Winter. To his surprise the Princess Shireen started to chant as well. I wonder what she’s thinking. Davos smiled, with him and his son following the Princess. And once again I’ve committed myself to another King. Stannis hoped to beat back the Long Night, we will help fulfil that duty. Davos promised as he chanted.

“The King in the North!!!”

Hope you all enjoyed it! I wanted tae have the Northmen fully aware of the threat beyond the wall. And in the books Jon had put dead men in ice cells tae wait fir them tae turn so I thought it would work quite nicely. Hope everyone liked the reunion between Jon and Rickon, wasn't sure on where tae go wae that exactly, just wanted it tae be a happier one. This happened before the previous chapter and the reason I chose this order was because Arya had been on her way since Jon got stabbed so it made sense fir covering what she was up tae in that time. Same wae the Great Jon, being a hostage.

There will be attacks on the Southern Kingdoms, dinnae worry there will be. He isnae leaving them, just won't be using the bulk of his forces.

Jon plans on making the South suffer in Winter.

If anyone has questions, please ask, though I won't be spoiling my plans

The next chapter is the reaction fae the realm tae a new King in the North

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 12: A Reminder

Hope you all enjoy! Feel free tae comment as always, I had a bit of time so I've managed tae release this earlier than usual!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Asha

Tied to the bow of one of her own ships was a humiliation. An Ironborn no longer in command of her ships, used as a show of victory for the Northmen. Asha felt that humiliation every time she was tied to the front when the Northmen sailed the seas, with her crew’s heads on spikes covering the ships. She’d had no real protection from the sea, not like she was captain. Asha felt every crash of waves as the ships cut through the sea. She felt every cold wind, as sharp as her blades, strike her face. It was a brutal punishment, only being taken off the bow at night to be fed, and in the dungeons when brought to land. The only consolation for her was that she’d not been tortured or raped. They’d just taken all of her dignity instead, reduced to nothing more than a hostage. The last weeks had been no different in suffering for Asha, feeling every wave hit her as they sailed for the Ten Towers. Her Uncle’s lands. Seeing them had brought a weak smile to her face. I’m home, and far from the North.

“Squid, Glover’s children better be alive or your head will be joining your crew.” Alsyane growled as she clapped her in irons.

Asha was to be returned to her Uncle in exchange for Robett Glover’s children. Him and that She bear that had knocked her out at the Motte had brought her back. She was the one grabbing her firmly as they dragged her in from of her Uncle, waiting at the dock with Glover’s children. The boy was holding his sister tightly. None of the Northmen were pleased to be letting her go, but the prospect of returning Glover’s children was what had stayed every Northman’s hand. Asha made to walk proudly along the dock, but the journey had drained her. It had taken an effort to just walk. She tried to give a smile to her Uncle. It felt pained as she did it.

“Lord Harlaw, your niece is alive and well. Hand over my children.” Robett growled to the man.

Her Uncle nodded, motioning the child forward. The boy ran quickly to his father.

“And my niece now.” Harlaw said calmly. Alsyane pushed her over, Asha stumbled over the last few steps of the dock to her Uncle and his men. She turned to see Robett holding his son and daughter tightly, he was still glaring at her though. The two groups stared at each other for a moment, before the Northerners gave a growl and returned to their ships. Asha and her Uncle waited until the ships left.

The reader looked at her solemnly, “It is good to see you home Asha. Better in this state than as a head on the spikes of the Northmen’s ships.”

“My ships.” Asha angrily pointed out. It tired her saying it.

Her uncle shook his head, “No, the Northmen’s ships. They took them by the Iron Price.”

Asha could only nod, thinking of the amount of dead Iron Born she’d seen at Deepwood Motte.

“The North is in the hands of Wolves again.” Asha stated.

“And do we fear a reckoning from it?” Harlaw asked.

Asha stared hard at her uncle. “We do. The Stark that leads them now won’t ever forget what my brother did at Winterfell. The Northmen will come one day to end us.”

Asha, for all her bravery, wasn’t able to hide the hint of fear in her voice. All I see is those predatory eyes when I close my own.

Jon Connington

It was always the wolves. The fucking wolves had ruined everything, causing Rhaegar’s death. That wolf bitch had ensnared the Silver Prince. Her brother and father had started a war. And Ned Stark had come South and stopped his victory over Robert, leading to Rhaegar’s death. And Varys’ little birds were telling the same story. Their pups were ruining things. Sansa Stark with the Vale, and Jon Snow in the North. I’ve had enough of them, more things for Aegon to deal with. He could see him debating the news, another matter that he would have to deal with to take the realm.

“Will we be able to take the North when I unite everything south of it?” Aegon asked the group.

To his surprise, the septa Lenore answered with a smile. She was the beauty of the group, dark hair and blue eyes, almost as ethereal as the Targaryens were. “I once met a group of Northmen. They told me of their homeland. The North once defeated the entirety of the South when the Andals came at Moat Cailin. And even if you could get through that, the North in winter would freeze your forces your grace. The Northmen are not people to be dealt with. Better to treat.”

“I doubt they will though. They’ve been a pain for over twenty years.” Connington spat.

“Perhaps it is best you offer marriage to your aunt? The dragons would help in your goals.” Varys offered.

Aegon nodded at him, “They would, but she would not likely accept being put to the side-lines. You say yourself she claims the throne by right even though my claim is greater.”

Varys tutted slightly, “You could still rule when married to her. You can rule even with the title of Prince-Consort. She will know little of Westeros whereas you have been trained and born for rule since birth. The title would not matter. The realm would know. You are the blood of the dragon too; the beasts are yours as much as hers.”

Aegon gave a smile, so like Rhaegar’s.

“Then we’ll send a message to my future wife. She will need my guidance if we are to unite the realm.”

Jon smiled at the man he had raised like a son. He’s like you my silver Prince, knowing what is best for the realm, even if the Greyscale kills me before I see it.

“I’m sure the Northmen will bend when they see dragons behind you. If not, fire and blood upon them.” Connington said with a grin. He noticed the group of advisors and Aegon all smile in response, all but the Septa Lenore.

Daenerys

Daenerys had been born here, in the castle of Dragon Stone. It was fitting really, she was born in the place where her ancestor had conquered the realm. It would be where she would reconquer the realm. The realm that was hers by right. I’m glad to be home. And that was the truth. There was a time she wanted the House with the Red door but that wasn’t home, it was too small for a dragon. And so was the east. Yunkai and Astapor had not followed her will and had fallen for it. And Daenerys had grown sick of ruling Meeren. She’d grown tired of their complaints. They called her mother for freeing them yet they grumbled and complained when she made them do works in the city. They complained when her dragons, the ones that had freed them from bondage, had eaten their sheep. I’ve had enough, I do not care for their complaints. I am a dragon. And she had reminded them of it when she had taken the city again with her Khalasar, with her dragons. With Fire and Blood. I will do the same here if they do not submit to their Queen.

Daenerys smiled at the thought as she looked over the Painted Table, showing her realm. A realm that had plunged into chaos without her family. Daenerys looked around the table, seeing her allies. Loyal Jorah, her Queen’s guard Ser Barristan, Missandei and Greyworm, her Lord Reaper Victarion Greyjoy, Olenna Tyrell and Loras Tyrell, emissaries for Willas Tyrell, Ellaria Sand, ambassador of Dorne. And Tyrion Lannister, her hand. The group was waiting for her to begin. I am the Queen, Mother of Dragons.

“What news of my realm?” Daenerys asked the group.

Her hand was the first to respond. “We’ve received news of the capital your grace. My sister has declared herself Queen now that her children are dead. She sits your throne. She is our main threat.”

Tyrion spoke bitterly of his sister. He always did.

“We already know who sits my throne. I would like to know more of the realm. Who else are we likely to face?”

“My brother for a start. Euron will do as he likes. He is not your friend and I have half a mind to believe that he has some plan to beat you. I would burn his fleet the moment you see him.” Victarion spat out.

Olenna spoke sharply, “That Ironborn has been terrorising our coasts. But in the grand scheme of things he is nothing more than a nuisance, just like the rest of your people. You have more threats to the realm in the land. The Vale Knights have finally got off their arses, taking the Riverlands and rallying around them. You might be able to make cause with them, they have been fighting the Lannisters.”

“Kingdoms that betrayed my father and brother?” Daenerys asked with a slight heat in her voice.

Olenna shrugged, “If your family had dragons then, they wouldn’t have rebelled in the first place. They’ll bend to you when they see your forces I imagine, people tend to prefer their skin not melted.”

“You also have the North to deal with.” Jorah pointed out.

“The usurper’s dogs are all dead. I’m sure the Boltons will want to side with the victors.”

Daenerys didn’t fail to notice Ser Barristan sigh at that. I don’t understand his defence of Ned Stark. He ruined the family that Ser Barristan serves.

“That’s not the case I’m afraid.” Loras said. She could hear the grief in his voice. His sister had been killed by Cersei Lannister. Though from what I heard, the Lady Tyrell was another False Queen.

Daenerys turned her attention to him.

“A raven came. I believe to all the Kingdoms. It was covered in bloodstains stating that the North belonged to wolves, not Freys, Squids or Boltons. The bastard of Winterfell has returned from the wall and declared himself King in the North, much like his brother Robb did when he marched south.”

Olenna gave a small chuckle, “Cousin, Loras. you read the same missive as all of us boy. It seems Ned Stark could lie; the bastard is by Ned’s older brother Brandon.”

“It doesn’t matter which Stark sired him, he’s still a threat. He’s wiped out both my men and the Boltons in a relatively short time. The bastard’s a problem.” Victarion bluntly said.

“Will Brandon’s son be more likely to bend than a child of his usurper brother?” Daenerys asked Jorah.

The gruff Northman shook his head. “It doesn’t matter Your Grace. The North is loyal to Starks and only Starks. He won’t bend to you. Not after everything that’s happened since the rebellion and the war in the realm. None of my people will want to do anything in the South. And in Winter none of our armies will be able to fight in the North, let alone stay in it.”

“Brandon’s son might have more cause to not bend as well. Your Father hung him whilst burning his grandfather alive. The Starks have every reason not to support you.” Ser Barristan added somewhat forcefully.

He’ll bend like his ancestors. And I’ll have Jorah replace him anyway. I have no need for usurpers.

“The North is a challenge for a united realm, something that could be achieved if you consent to marrying your nephew. He offers a marriage, for the two of you to rule the crown as Prince Consort and Queen.” Ellaria purred with her Dornish drawl.

The one who challenges my right so directly, who thinks fire and blood are his. He doesn’t understand those words like me.

“And why should I do that? Do we know if he is my nephew like you claim?”

“I’d seen him before meeting you. He has your look.” Tyrion pointed out.

“And the Princess Arianne says the same. She can see his Dornish features.” Ellaria added.

“What would he offer us? We have dragons, an army and the Reach behind our Queen. We don’t need him to unite the realm.” Olenna retorted harshly.

“He offers Dorne, the Golden Company and the Reachmen that have already betrayed you. Tarly among them. And he offers to be a Prince Consort, you would have Queenship.” Ellaria retorted snidely.

“Marrying him would secure any claim that you are usurping your nephew. And it would be a return of continuity for the masses. A prevention of a dance of dragons.” Tyrion offered her.

Daenerys was annoyed at that. It was her realm and her nephew knew it. I am the mother of Dragons. She nodded though. Daenerys knew what she could do with him. He can have title as Prince Consort. But if he tries to rule, I will not let him. Everyone will know that when he learns that my dragons only obey me, with only the blood of Valyria.

“I will marry him. He can help me to unite the realm as Prince Consort. He will not rule though. That is mine by right.”

She let them absorb it before speaking. “It is time we begin.”

Sansa

News of Stannis Baratheon’s demise had allowed for Sansa to no longer be Alayne. Petyr no longer needed her as his bastard daughter when the key to the North was much more valuable. A tool that would give him another Kingdom for his plans. She needed to be revealed to the Vale, something which had gone splendidly according to Petyr. It had been a long time since Sansa had seen her own red hair, her Tully locks. For those that had known her mother and Aunt Lysa, it was obvious who she was. It had made arranging the marriage to Harry, now Lord Arryn due to her cousin slipping into a sleep he was not like to wake up from. Something Petyr will surely arrange to stay true.

Her marriage to a man who had notorious affairs was not something Sansa wanted. It wasn’t something she liked every time they bedded. He’s not a good man, he uses me for my claim and beds every woman he can with his new titles, Lord of the Vale and soon to be Lord of Winterfell. Sansa hated the thought of him. She hated his touch as he climbed on top of her for heirs. But it had served a purpose. She had an army behind her, growing larger as they helped to relieve the Riverlands with her Uncle and Great Uncle. They were singing Petyr’s tune though. The army could be hers if she could get rid of Baelish. That was what she wanted. Sansa had figured out that the man was not to be trusted. What he wanted were things that did not ever belong to him. Including me, Sansa thought coldly as she remembered those kisses and words of how much she was like her mother, or his promises to get rid of Harry for her once he’d given her an heir or two. When he was no longer useful for her plans. Baelish was looking too calm and happy as men rode to war for his plans, cleaning up a mess that he had started.

Today though was different. She could see it when he walked into her tent as she supped alone. My family off sorting out the host and My husband in a whore. Sansa took a good look at her, keeping that innocent look he loved. He was clearly off, she could see an air of annoyance to him behind the smile. Something had disturbed his plans. Sansa wanted to give a smile her wolf might have given once. Instead she chose the one of a bird.

“What is it Petyr?” She asked in a timid voice.

Petry sighed and gave a smile, she could still see that annoyance, “Lady Sansa, I’ve received news from the North.”

Sansa didn’t hide her intrigue, “What of the North, are the Boltons marching South to aid the Lannisters against us?”

Petry shook his head, “I’m afraid not. They’ve been killed. The North has rebelled against them.”

Robb has been avenged. Mother has been avenged.

“What worries you? Won’t that make it easier for us to reclaim my home?” She asked ever so sweetly. It tasted like poison to her.

“It would if the Boltons had only been killed only by your bannermen. They were led by your bastard brother, Jon Snow. He’s declared himself King in the North.”

Sansa’s heart leapt at the mention of Jon. She had thought often of Jon in the Vale as Alayne. Of how sweet it would be to see him, so like her father. She wanted to apologise so much, and to have a true family member with her. Another Stark. Sansa kept her emotions concealed.

“My Mother always feared that my half brother would do this one day to me and my siblings.” Sansa said solemnly,

Petyr seemed convinced, although she never knew whether he actually was. “Your mother was a wise woman.”

He paused for a moment, “And from what word that has come, it turns out he isn’t your half-brother. Word tells that he is your cousin, a bastard of Brandon Stark. Your father hid a worse threat to your claim in your home.”

Sansa didn’t know how to react to that news. Instead, she focused on Baelish. Sansa could hear the annoyance much more clearly at the mention of her deceased Uncle. What did my Uncle do to rile you so? Sansa thought. She would have to ask her Uncle and Great Uncle when time gave them privacy.

“What will we do?” Sansa asked.

Petyr returned to that friendly façade. “My sweet Sansa, we continue with our plans. We march North now that the Riverlands is free. The North will return to you once they are presented with the only trueborn child of Stark left.”

Sansa smiled at him sweetly as he kissed her head, knowing he couldn’t try to do more in a war camp. The march will give me time to plan. I can beat you now that something has gone wrong with your plan. The Lone Wolf Dies but the Pack Survives.

Cersei

Enemies to the South. Enemies to the East. Enemies to the West. And now enemies to the North. Cersei looked at the bloodstained letter signed by the Bastard of Winterfell and scowled. It would be another wolf, they started this and now they are here at the end. The bastard of Winterfell had destroyed her Father’s work to put the North to heel, to have them know their place under House Lannister. Father hadn’t gone far enough in his age, I’ll do what he did to House Reyne and Tarbeck. The Northmen will be no more, the Reachmen will be no more, the Dornish and their Pretender Prince will be no more. That bitch Sansa and her Knights. And the Dragon whore will be no more. Only Lannisters would be left to rule the realm when she was done. She had beaten the faith, and brought the capital back to herself. She would win. The thought made her smile as she sat the Iron Throne waiting for Ser Jamie to approach, having finally returned from the Riverlands. Too late to have saved her from the faith. She would make him remember that, he would be spending years to make it up to her. He might not have been much use anyway, for all he loves me Jamie has become much less useful without his hand.

Jamie’s walk to her throne was a long one. Cersei noted that he had taken a much more serious face, ever since Father had died. Guilt for freeing that monster. He looked apprehensive as he kneeled before her.

“Your Grace.”

Cersei raised her hand and the court slowly left the throne room, leaving only them and her loyal Queen’s guard. Ser Robert Strong had proven a loyal tool since being brought to her by her new hand. Cersei walked the steps from the throne room, accentuating her power. This is my realm. She watched as Jamie had risen, still looking solemn. It didn’t suit him. He should be pleased, reunited with his sister, his other half, who’s been with him since birth, hand gripping my ankle from the womb.

Cersei gave him a cold smile, she would make him work for her forgiveness and her pleasure again.

“You were too late to save me from the filth.” She said coolly.

Jamie looked unsure how to respond, “I was securing the Riverlands for King Tommen, for the realm, for you.”

Cersei kept her cold gaze, “While your other half suffered at the hands of the Faith and the Tyrells. You left me to walk through the streets like a common whore. I had to save myself and secure our reign. You should have returned.”

“Where’s Tommen?” Jamie asked quietly.

Cersei didn’t flinch, “Dead. Killed by our enemies. You should have been there to protect him.”

Jamie’s shoulders slumped, “Is Myrcella to be recalled to take her throne?”

Cersei slapped him. He didn’t flinch at least. He still has that Lannister Pride, Hear me Roar.

“Dead too. Killed by Dorne, for all that they claim it was an accident. That was Tyrion’s doing, for sending her to Dorne. Something that wouldn’t have been needed if you had been with us, like a King’s guard should.”

Jamie’s face still looked sombre. Though she could see him in deep thought.

“We are at war then.” He simply stated.

Cersei walked past him, making him follow as she walked the length of the throne room towards the newly painted map of the realm.

She took another look at him, he wasn’t wearing Widow’s Wail, Joffrey’s sword of Valyrian Steel.

“Where is your sword?” She demanded.

“I lost it to prove my word is worth something.”

Was there a sense of pride in that? He’s lost two swords for his word. I wonder what father saw in you as an heir.

“It didn’t work. Sansa, the bitch that killed our son, has been moving into the Riverlands with the Vale. The Riverlords will be flocking to her I don’t doubt. And she is not the only one. We have enemies everywhere. The False Dragon has taken the Stormlands. The Dornish will flock to him. The Dragon whore has landed at Dragon Stone. She fancies herself the conqueror come again. The Reach rebels against us. And the Bastard of Winterfell has taken the North.”

Cersei looked at the hulking landmass that was the North. I hope winter freezes you all to death.

“Most of the realm is against us.” Jamie said bluntly.

“It is. But House Lannister will prevail. You will be leading our armies. It is time you do what Father expected of you. The realm is mine and you will help to return it to me. I want the dragons’ heads. I want that bitch’s head. I want the Tyrells’ heads. I want the wolves skinned. I want them all dead.”

“You expect me to beat dragons?! You expect me to fight an entire realm that hates us?! You expect me to march into the North, a land that has never been held or taken by anyone else but the wolves?! In Winter no less?!!! He asked heatedly.

Cersei looked at the map, then him coldly, “I do. They’re all traitors! And all traitors to us must die! I suggest you think the same if you want me to forgive you.”

She hesitated for a moment then gave a graceful, predatory smile. I am the Queen. I will take what is mine.

“You’ll come to my chambers tonight.”

Then she walked off, leaving her brother to look at the map. She would have him later to use. He won’t deny me my pleasure, even if he is not forgiven. I am the Queen.

Harwin

The Riverlands had become much more active again. Once more a war zone, Harwin thought as he made his way back to the camp. Between the eradication of House Frey, the arrival of the Vale knights fighting against the Lannisters, and the rebelling Riverlords led by Brynden and Edmure, newly freed by his Uncle. The land was in chaos. The Brotherhood had added to it, killing any Frey prior to the wolves ending them, and now any Lannister troops. The Riverlands had become a bloody mess. And they’d gotten news on who was leading the Knights of the Vale, the new Lord Arryn and his wife Sansa Stark. That had been a shock to Harwin, that the girl he once knew was still alive and no longer a pawn of the Lannisters. Maybe that’ll make the Lady smile a true one, and not a bitter one that she always seems to give. Harwin doubted it in truth. He wasn’t truly sure if the Lady Catelyn could do that anymore. Though she only ever gave a true one to her children.

The camp was busy with movement. They were all packing their things quickly. Have we been found? Harwin trudged to the only tent of the camp, where the Lady would be. The Northman strode in to see that Tom Sevenstrings was talking quietly with the Lady and Thoros of Myr. He noticed the Lady Brienne was standing behind her as well, two swords by her side. A gift from the King slayer to save his own life. By the looks of the former lady of Winterfell she was displeased. It didn’t much differ to that judging look he had seen her wear in her past life. It was just made more telling now. Harwin could see the slit in her throat throb and the pale skin look reddish. She wasn’t pleased at all.

“Why are we moving, we haven’t been here long?” Harwin asked bluntly.

Thoros was the one to respond, “We’re heading to meet with the Vale and Riverlords, we’re to pledge our fealty to them before they march Northward.”

Harwin understood immediately. The Lady wanted to be with her daughter, and help take back the North. The last news they had heard was that Stannis had died at Winterfell. Other than that, his homeland was too far to get regular information. He missed his home, though the thought of Boltons ruling Winterfell and the North sickened him.

“We’re to fight the Boltons then?” Harwin asked eagerly.

Thoros shook his head, “No, we’ve finally gotten news on what’s happened in the North. The Boltons are no more. The Northern Lords have taken them to the sword.”

Harwin felt a smile emerge. He’d served at Winterfell just like his father and ancestors. It was not a place for flayed men. Only wolves.

Thoros wasn’t finished though. “They were led by Jon Snow, he’s the King in the North.”

Harwin’s attention turned directly to Lady Catelyn as she gave a pained, angry rasp, blood dripping from her cut throat, and eyes filling with hate. It was rare for her to be able to speak completely coherently. In most cases she motioned or had written on paper. This though, Harwin heard as clear as day, making his face fall as she uttered a single hate-filled word.

“Usurper.”

Hope you all enjoyed it! I wanted tae give as much coverage of all things south of the neck there as possible. Hope it paid off. There will be more things in future, Arianne will be mentioned more fir example, only name dropped her because these povs were meant tae be short. When a chapter comes you'll get more on certain people. Though there won't be any Asha ones fir a while, her story is done fir now.

And in regards tae both aegon and daenerys agreeing tae the marriage between them, I hope I got both of their machinations. They're both arrogant and prideful but they think they'll be able tae control or manipulate the other one. Something that will be seen later on in the story.

And I hope people picked up on septa lenore too

Feel free tae comment and question as always

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 13: Family

Hope you all enjoy, feel free tae comment as always!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Arya

The sight of Stark banners on Moat Cailin had brought joy to the small group of Northmen and Riverlords. And news that the Boltons and Freys in the North had been slaughtered had made the Great Jon’s laugh boom across the great castle and probably all of the neck. Knowledge that Rickon lived had added to that.

“Starks are fucking hard to kill!” The Great Jon had proclaimed that night, as happy as he was when he’d seen the sight of dead Freys.

It was a good sign for the group, they would have sanctuary in the North. For the Rivermen, they would most likely be staying at Moat Cailin, both so Arya’s new cousin Hoster would not have to make the long trip North. And should the Riverlands return to Tully hands, they would be much nearer to return to Riverrun. But for Arya, Great Jon Umber and Harrion Karstark, they would be making for Winterfell soon. The three longed to travel, albeit for different reasons. The Great Jon was eager to make his way for Winterfell and meet his family and the new King in the North. Arya had asked how he knew that his family would be with Jon. The Great Jon had just grinned.

“If my Uncles and son haven’t been fighting with the King in the North, I’ll be smashing their heads together. They’ll have known that!”

For Harrion, it was to see his sister and to help prevent the name Karstark from being further besmirched. Galbert Glover had informed him of what they had done to Stannis in Winterfell. Harrion had been quick to figure out why they had done that. “To kill me for Karhold.” What grudges Harrion had for Robb killing his father would have to be put aside to help fix his house’s standing in the North.

It was simple for Arya though. I long for pack, I long for home. I long for Jon.

But the group would have to wait until they could all regain their strength. The wait was excruciating though, with Arya resorting to training and hunting with Nymeria to keep herself busy. She at least knew that Jon would know that she was coming. Galbert Glover had sent a missive by raven, detailing of the hostages’ release and the end of House Frey. Arya had gotten him to write something specific, so he know it was her. A thank you for my needle.

Arya smiled at the thought as she sat on a bench with the rescued hostages and some of the soldiers from the garrison. Arya watched with an amused look as she watched the group from the Twins gorge themselves. They’d apparently not been fed well. Something which was obvious on all but the Great Jon who looked no different to how she’d seen him at a feast in Winterfell. Half-starved and he is still a giant.

“Winter’s finally here.” Harrion Karstark said solemnly as he looked out towards the light snow. It would only get heavier the further North they went.

“Aye, I doubt this will be a short one either. A ten-year summer we’ve just had.” One of the Northern soldiers added.

Great Jon nodded, “Aye, means we won’t have to deal with any Southerners for a while. The Andals will freeze their bollocks off just getting to the Moat!”

“Do you think the King in the North will march South like King Robb?” Marq Piper asked the group.

Harrion shook his head, “Not according to Galbert, he’d been ordered to guard the Moat, only to have a small force ready for taking only the Twins.”

“And now that the Freys are dead, the King won’t be marching South.” Olyvar stated. Arya could hear the discomfort in his voice, knowing his family had been wiped out. It did not give Arya guilt.

“Father once told me that it was never wise for anyone to go to war in Winter. Only Northmen who were willing to die so our families could be fed would wage war. Jon will be thinking of feeding us all through winter instead of looking Southward.” Arya said quietly.

Thinking of Father always hurts.

Great Jon downed his drink in one before slamming it, “Don’t worry Piper! Us Northmen will not be forgetting the Lannister Cunts! They don’t understand what winter does, they’ll be starving by the time Spring comes and we’ll be eager to get warm killing the fucks!”

The group all chuckled at the Umber. Arya turned to the door as she heard a guard enter. Leaving the door open behind him she could hear that there was a commotion outside.

“Princess Arya, there’s an army approaching the Moat.”

Arya kept the distaste at being called Princess hidden.

“Are the Lannisters stupid enough to battle against the Moat?” Harrion asked.

Great Jon laughed, “If they are it means I can crush their skulls earlier.”

The guard shook his head, “They’re not Lannister colours. They’re Vale and Riverland Banners. Arryn and Tully.”

“Then it’s best you show us.” Arya said calmly.

The Vale and Tully Banners had offered a white flag to parley with them. The Northmen were all on edge despite the banners waving. Nobody wanted to deal with another betrayal or trap by the Lannisters. Arya had no intention of that as she rode with Glover, Umber and her wolf Pack. Arya doubted anyone would try anything with a free Direwolf her massive pack behind her. It seemed to assure the soldiers with her.

As they rode, she could see a small group of people at the front, mostly Valemen by the banners and crescents on their armour.

Glover was glaring hard at the Vale banners. “These men were supposedly friends of your Father once. He said they were honourable

Great Jon spat onto the ground as they rode nearer. “If they were friends of Ned Stark, they would have fought with us the moment he’d been taken by the Lannisters. They’re craven cunts!”

The Vale has no friends here anymore. Arya thought darkly.

As they got towards the group of Vale banners, Arya could also see someone she hadn’t expected. Petyr Baelish.

Nymeria gave a low growl. I remember you from the capital and Harrenhal. You stood there when father was beheaded. You served the Lannisters. What are you doing here?

Baelish seemed to show surprise and then smiled. Arya didn’t like that smile.

“Is that the Lady Arya Stark?” He asked in such a friendly manner. Arya felt Nymeria’s pack grow tense.

“Lord Baelish.” Arya said coldly.

Her wolves were growling.

Baelish kept smiling, Arya could see the falsity in it. The Faceless men told me how to see lies. You’re not happy to see me it all.

“I’m so glad you remember me Lady Arya. I feared that you had died, or that you had been given to the Boltons. Your Father would be glad to know that another of his children lived.”

“Did he tell you that when you watched his head get cut off beside Joffrey?” Arya asked icily.

Nymeria was eyeing up Baelish. Great Jon and Glover had their hands on their swords. Arya could hear that the Great Jon unsheathe half of his great sword.

Baelish eyed them all more warily. “I’m sorry to hear that you had witnessed your father’s execution. Much like your sister, I was a hostage there. To have not obeyed the King would have meant the same fate.”

Lie. The Pack of wolves were snarling. The Vale knights with him were looking nervous.

“What brings a Lannister cunt and a bunch of cravens to the North then?!” Great Jon Umber boomed, anger amplifying his voice.

The Vale Knights didn’t like the comment.

Baelish kept his composure, “I’m not a Lannister sympathiser. I’ve come to aid the North. Much like the Knights of the Vale. We wish to restore the Lady Sansa to her rightful seat and to bring the North into the fight against the Lannister again. Until now we were only aware that she was the only trueborn child of Ned Stark left. She’ll be delighted to know her sister lives.”

The Lords and soldiers bristled at the words. He wants to hurt Jon. He lies and he threatens my brother. I will kill you.

“You don’t have the Lady Sansa Stark. She hasn’t been heard from since you Lannisters married her off to the dwarf.” Glover said with venom.

Baelish began to smile, turning to one of the Vale Knights. “Go Fetch Lady Sansa Stark and her husband Lord Arryn. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to see her sister.”

The Vale Knight seemed eager to leave the parley, riding back to the main force of Vale and Tully banners. The group waited silently for the Knight to return with her sister. The Northmen were given deathly stares to the Vale banners and Baelish. Arya was thinking as her wolves snarled for her.

Arya knew that he did not know about Rickon being with Jon by the way he spoke. But the lord clearly knew that Jon was at Winterfell. Her thoughts drifted to Sansa. Does he truly have my sister? And is she willing to hurt Jon?

The thought of Sansa harming Jon made her angry. I won’t let you if you try.

They waited for a few more minutes before she could see horses approaching, carrying Tully, Arryn and Stark banners. As Arya looked at the group, she could see that of Baelish’s lies there was one truth. He has my sister. Sansa lives.

Arya could recognise the auburn hair, the slender figure and the Tully blue eyes. It was clearly her, only a woman grown. Much like herself. Arya kept herself composed as the group stopped in front of them. Arya could see the shock on her sister’s face. She knew that face, the one that assumed Arya Stark had died. I live just like you.

Beside her stood a man in Arryn colours with Sandy hair and blue eyes. He’s not my cousin. I heard he was sickly and had dark hair. Is he dead too?

Baelish looked smug, “May I present the lady Sansa Stark and her husband Lord Harold Arryn. The Rightful Lady of Winterfell and the Lord of the Vale.”

Arya and the Northmen turned to her sister. Have you betrayed us?

Sansa looked back and smiled. It was a genuine one. “I thought you had died after they killed Father.”

Arya could see her hold back tears. She could also hear the regret.

Arya smiled at her sister, “Starks are hard to kill Sansa. I haven’t seen you since Father died.”

Baelish grinned. A fake one. He doesn’t like my presence. “You see I speak the truth Lady Arya, I simply seek to restore your sister to her rightful seat. We seek want to enter the North, then the banners can be called to Winterfell for the march south.”

The Great Jon looked like he had enough. “I won’t have any of you Vale shits in the North, threatening the King in the North!”

He’d unsheathed the Great Sword fully. The Vale Knights had stepped back. Glover had moved his horse so he could put a hand on the man to calm him. It didn’t work. Arya gave the Lord a look instead. He held for a moment.

“We’ve been ordered by the King in the North to not let any armies North of the Neck.” Glover said.

“And those are the words of a bastard and an oath breaker. Not your trueborn lady.” Lord Arryn said arrogantly.

I’ll kill you too.

Arya looked at her sister. “What do you want Sansa?”

Sansa’s face had turned from a smile to a stern face. “I seek to take my rightful place as the Lady of Winterfell Arya. I seek to take my place where the bastard of Winterfell sits.”

Arya might have believed those words if she was still a child. Sansa had never been close to Jon, not like her. But this, Arya knew better. I know when people are lying. My sister is doing that now. She doesn’t want this.

Arya turned to Baelish, “You will not have passage into the North. We know no King but the King in the North whose name is Stark. I won’t have anyone threaten my brother.”

At that she turned her horse, wolves following with the Lords.

“We need to send work to the king.” Glover stated.

The Great Jon grinned, “Aye, he can come down and join us in smashing that Lannister cunt’s face!”

“And we can get Princess Sansa back.” Arya affirmed.

The two nodded with smiles as they rode. Nymeria and the pack were howling loudly.

I won’t let them hurt you Jon. The Lone wolf dies but the pack survives.

Jon

“Keep your Shield up!” Jon said with a grin as he practiced with his brother, snowing gently dropping on their heads as dawn broke over Winterfell.

Rickon grunted and went back into his stance, practice sword in his right hand, shield in the left. He raised it begrudgingly as he looked up to him.

“I’ll beat you this time.” Rickon said with all the seriousness an eight-year-old could have.

Jon laughed as his brother’s face turned to a determined scowl. He looks like Robb when I sparred with him, with that long face showing behind those Tully locks.

“Maybe Rickon, only if you can keep your shield up or you’ll get knocked on your arse.”

Rickon grinned briefly before returning to an angry scowl. His younger brother started their spar again, going through his forms for battle with Jon teaching the lad. This had become a routine of theirs ever since Rickon’s return to Winterfell, getting up at dawn to practice combat by themselves before they broke their fast and begin each day’s work. It had served as both a way for Jon to spend time with his brother and a good way to start giving Rickon more control of that savage nature he’d picked up from being a lone wolf. Jon could see that every time him and Rickon sparred, his younger brother fighting with a temper behind each blow.

Today was no different, as Jon parried and blocked each of Rickon’s strikes, each and every one hitting with a ferocity behind him. The ferocity was not something Jon would train out of the boy. It has served me well and it will him. But what he was training out of him was the sloppiness that came with it. It was a gradual process but he could see his brother thinking more. When he was of age Jon had confidence that his brother would make a fine Prince of Winter. Jon grinned as his brother attempted to catch him off his guard, going for a lower blow with his sword. A good idea but he lowered his shield. Jon quickly deflected it and brought his practice sword through the opening Rickon had made.

Jon grinned at his brother with the sword before going to the weapon’s rack. Rickon followed. “You have to keep your shield up brother. You made a smart move but you have to keep yourself defended while doing it.”

Rickon nodded, still a scowl on his face from being beaten.

Jon crouched down, “When you can defend yourself properly with a shield; I’ll be able to teach you how to batter someone with it at the same time. You did good though today, you might get me one day.”

Rickon started to smile. “I will one day. Sooner than you think.”

Jon raised his eyebrows the picked him up before Rickon could respond, putting him on his shoulders. He could hear him start to laugh.

“Now then, lets go eat before the day begins!”

Rickon gave a groan between laughs as they made their way inward. His younger brother’s life had become a lot busier since his return. Their lessons before dawn were simply a good way of calming him for the day to come. He’s missed to much from this war, I’ll give as much back as I can, Jon had resolved upon their reunion. Rickon was to sit in with any petitioners that Jon had. To train with the master of Arms and the other children around the castle.

And to sit in his lessons. The lessons had been the hardest until Jon had decided to have Old Nan lead them with help from the princess Shireen. How Old Nan lives still I will never know. Though Jon was glad of it; her presence and the princess had seemed to calm his brother. And Sam returning will no doubt be a boon. Jon smiled at the thought of his friend, a raven had come stating that he had found what was needed. He knew Jon was at Winterfell and that he would be recalled to Winterfell. The Boltons’ Maester has been sent to the wall, I’ll have another friend at my side instead.

Jon grinned at the thought of that as the two Starks made their way into the Great Hall. Rickon had climbed off, running towards Osha, Old Nan and Val at the head table. More would be coming soon, and with it the day would begin. And today I can finally speak with Howland Reed.

Jon had been busy ever since his crowning to have a proper conversation with the man. There was too much to be done to sit idly and talk about a woman he’d never met. There was too much to be dealt with; from preparing for winter, making plans for the war to come and spending time with Val and Rickon. Winterfell and the King in the North could not be still. But with Lord Robett Glover and Alsyane had returned recently with Robett’s son Gawen and new born daughter Erena, preparations for obtaining dragon glass on Skagos underway, and the deal with the Iron Bank made to last throughout winter; Jon had time.

Jon sat in his solar as he waited for Lord Reed to arrive. The thought of gaining more knowledge on his mother was something Jon had wanted for a long time before his death. His birth father giving him a name had been more than he had come to terms with when he was at the Wall. A name alone had given Jon a sense of peace. Whatever the tale was at this point, Jon was simply glad to know it. An end to a story that had hovered over him since birth.

Lord Reed entered the solar quietly, taking his seat opposite Jon. Jon poured him a drink for him. The man was short like his people but had brought great things in Jon’s eyes since his arrival at Winterfell. The lord of the Neck had brought Robb’s will, a last gift from his brother. Who’d always seen me as a brother. He had also brought Hallis Mollen, the guard that had been protecting his father’s bones. Jon had almost hugged both of them for that. Jon had appointed Mollen captain of the guard, for guarding and returning Ned Stark’s bones.

For all that I am Brandon’s son I will always be Ned’s too. Even if I don’t follow his path now.

Lord Reed looked at him with pensive green eyes as he took a sip. The eyes had a sense of otherness to him.

“My King” he said humbly.

Jon shook his head, “Jon is fine Lord Reed.”

Lord Reed gave a small smile, “Then call me Howland. Brandon was like that when I met him, never one for formal titles. I see that wildness is in you. Though when Ned wrote of you, he always said you were like him.”

Jon smiled back, “Aye, well you’ve seen the scars like everyone else. Death doesn’t leave us unscathed.”

Howland’s face turned solemn, “A fair point. And this war has done much to change us all. And the war with the dead I imagine will do the same to us.”

Jon nodded to him, “Aye, though it won’t change that we are Northmen.”

Howland sipped from his cup and the two took a moment of comfortable silence.

“It wasn’t Ned who told you about Brandon being your father was it?” Howland asked.

He figured that out quick.

“No, I met Brandon in the crypts. He was the one to tell me. He was also the one to tell me to ask you about Ashara. Our time was too short.”

Howland took another sip, keeping his solemn face, “What I know from the tourney was Brandon and Ashara’s relationship was nothing more than a dalliance. They were both wilful people, charmers and ones who preferred to enjoy life over duties. The two gravitated in that time.”

Jon listened as he drank slowly. The news hadn’t surprised him, he had known Brandon’s reputation for a long time. That didn’t bother him in the slightest.

“I didn’t see your mother again until after the war had ended. Not until after seeing the horrors that Rhaegar had done to Lyanna in Dorne. We had only come to Starfall out of duty, to return Dawn to House Dayne and hopefully gain a ship to bring Lyanna’s bones home. That was where we had found you with your mother.”

Jon looked at the man intently. He could see the sadness in Howland’s eyes.

“She was different when we met you. The Ashara we had met at the Tourney was beautiful, vibrant and alive. The woman we met at Starfall looked almost a ghost. Ashara had been traumatised by the losses. She’d told us she had been forced to see Brandon and Rickard die and the news of Elia and her children had broken her.”

“I didn’t expect this to be a happy tale.” Jon said grimly.

Howland sighed then took a long drink.

“Your mother was not in a fit state. We had heard her ramble about whispers telling her of Elia and her children. That had been when she said for Ned take you North. Ned had already spoken of doing that, to have another of his blood with him and to keep you safe. He didn’t trust her with you. Ashara offering only made it all the simpler to take you to Winterfell, even if it came with the price of claiming you as his to his wife.”

Howland paused and smiled slightly, “Though I doubt the man ever regretted taking you as his son.”

Jon gave a small smile of his own before taking a large drink. “And what happened to my mother.”

“She left on another ship, heading east. Neither of us understood why. She only said that it was to find justice. I know she didn’t kill herself as the stories tell. Even as she was, there was a sense of purpose to her when she had said that.”

“Do you know where she went?” Jon asked quietly, almost like a boy.

Howland shook his head, “I don’t I’m afraid. Only that she went East. I believe that was why Ned never mentioned her sooner. He didn’t want to speak without knowing where she was first.”

The two returned to silence for a long while drinking as Jon mused on his mother. Maybe I’ll know you in another life. But my duties come first.

Jon spoke calmly after finishing his drink.

“Thank you, Howland. Thank you for telling me.”

“You had a right to know by now.” Howland simply stated.

Jon poured another drink for the two. “There’s another matter I would like to talk with you too. Something in regards to South.”

“Of course, what can I do to help?” Howland offered as he took a more measured drink.

Jon smiled, “You’ve heard that me and Lord Manderly have finished bargaining with the Iron Bank?”

Howland nodded, “Aye, the first shipments will come in a moon’s turn. How much did they damage us to help keep our bellies full for the Long night?”

Jon grimaced, “The terms were not bad considering it will give us more to fill our stores permanently. It will still take every piece of gold and silver from the North.”

That wasn’t an exaggeration. Jon and Lord Manderly’s dealings with Tycho Nestoris to expand the deal Jon had done at the wall was expensive. Every piece of coinage in the coffers of the North would have to be given. Jon was happy to get rid of all the North’s gold and sliver coins to keep all his people alive and fed during the Long Night. The Northmen were after seeing the dead men. Jon had happy to have Manderly’s presence to help with the negotiation. His knowledge on trade and the East was invaluable. And the twenty-three warships he had built for Robb, increasing the Western navy to sixty ships, would be essential for helping ferry the supplies to the North. Manderly had also been right to suggest they pay it in instalments as opposed to a loan. “It is better to pay the bank than takes loans, they’ll own us forever if we take one out.”

“You can’t eat gold and silver.” Howland stated.

“No, we can’t. But it is useful, something that the Lannisters always claim to know.”

Jon started to grin as Howland gave him a curious look.

“What would you have me do?”

Jon’s grin turned savage, “The people of the Neck are the best scouts in the North, and the most lethal scouts in the realm. Find a way into the Rock. I’ll send Maege and some forces with you. We’ll take every last bit of gold in that castle. It can help rebuild the North and keep us warm.”

Howland looked at him and smiled, “I swear that we’ll take it. By Earth and Water. By Bronze and Iron. By Ice and Fire.”

Jon offered his hand and they shook firmly. You Lannisters will suffer.

The two were interrupted by a knock on the door. One of the castle guards entered.

“My King, there are two ravens for you from moat Cailin.”

The guard passed the missives to him. One line stood out above the rest. “My Needle has served me well, thank you for teaching me to stick them with the pointy end.”

Arya. You’re home.

Hope you all enjoy, wanted tae setup the conflict between the North and Baelish there. As you can see, the Vale and Riverlords don't get past the neck in this, that's as far in the North as they go. Also wanted the Northmen tae be pissed at the vale fir not fighting first time around. Felt that they rightfully should be, even though they are unaware as tae why exactly. Fae the Northern perspective, they betrayed Ned by not fighting tae free and avenge him.

The next couple of chapters will move south before returning to Moat Cailin because the conflict in the South is ongoing.

If anyone has questions please ask.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 14: The Remnants of Valyria

Hope you all enjoy, feel free tae comment as always!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Daenerys

The war had truly begun now for Daenerys. With alliances made and the issue of her “nephew” dealt with through a marriage once they met at King’s Landing; the conquest could begin. Her armies of Dothraki, Unsullied, Freed men, Tyrells and Iron Born would go unopposed. Half of her Unsullied and all her freed men had been sent west by ship to take control of the west. Tyrion had promised an easy way into the Rock, only known by him. Her Dothraki led by Jorah had been sailed over onto the Southern Riverlands, where their forces would push westward, blocking the Westerlands from moving their armies and the Riverlands to boot. Daenerys felt particular comfortable with that knowledge. The Dothraki were unmatched. And while they prevented her from being attacked from behind, she would be taking the city with her nephew. Ser Barristan and the Sand Snakes had been sent ahead to confirm the alliance. Maybe he’ll be late. I’ll take it before he arrives, have him kneel by my feet.

Daenerys smiled at the thought as she sailed through the night. Her dragons above her, alongside the Iron Born and the Tyrell forces that had accompanied Olenna. Her second son Garlan would be leading the Tyrell forces that had remained at High Garden. And the other half of the Reach was likely to follow now that an alliance had been made. Half of the Reach army had already declared for Aegon directly so would be joining them at King’s Landing. I can remind them of their oaths.

“You’re looking forward to this aren’t you my Queen?” Olenna asked wryly.

Daenerys looked at the old woman, “I am. It is my birth right. I look forward to taking back what is mine.”

Olenna snorted, “A true dragon then. I wonder if your nephew has that same fire.”

Daenerys frowned, “My brother called himself a dragon. He was just a snake. I most likely expect my nephew to be the same.”

Olenna raised her eyebrow at her. “How do you intend to prove that?”

Daenerys looked upwards, “I’ll let my dragons decide whether he is my blood.”

Olenna looked upwards like her Queen. Only Queen.

“I’m sure they’ll know who the true dragon is.” Olenna said shortly.

Daenerys looked at the old woman. “You may leave now.”

Olenna bowed shortly then walked off. She was glad to be alone, only her dragons’ roars in the night giving her comfort. My children long for home like me. To give fire and blood to those that wronged us and our family.

The peace of the night ended with a violent crash as one of her ships rammed into her own. Daenerys could barely keep herself stood from the crash, holding to the rails. It was followed by another, a ship to her right had as well. Then the screams started. Her ship wasn’t the only one being crashed into. As she looked out towards her fleet, Daenerys could see more ships targeting the fleet. They’re black as night. Some of the fleet tried to avoid the incoming ships but it was too late for them as more ships appeared, blockading them. Then the screams began across the fleet. Thousands of screams coming from her army as the attackers flooded them. Torches were gradually lighting across the ships, all showing complete chaos. Daenerys’ unsullied and Tyrells were starting to rally but the surprise had taken a toll. Daenerys heard a commotion on her own ship as Victarion and Tyrion joined her on the deck. Victarion looked furious.

“How the fuck did my brother find us?!!” He yelled it repeatedly as he barked orders on his ship, getting the men to rally as they started to prepare for the incoming attackers on their ship. Victarion had been paranoid of his brother ever since she’d met him when he burnt the horn called dragon binder in front of her as a show of loyalty. He’d insisted on sailing with no sconces lit or candles in the cabins. They were to be in complete darkness at all times when sailing at night, and always alert during the day.

“Shouldn’t the dragons have attacked during the day if he were near us?” Tyrion asked.

Daenerys nodded as she watched the combat. “They would have seen them following us.”

“Do Dragons recognise banners if they’re the same as ours?!” Victarion asked heatedly as he pointed to the enemy ships that were circling, fires illuminating their sails. They’d been adorned with Targaryen banners as well as Greyjoy.

“You can shout all you like about them being intelligent but not that much!” He yelled as he through his dirk into one of the boarding party’s throats. The Iron Born dropped to the ground. She didn’t hear a scream though. Victarion jumped down and began hacking his way through the Iron Born with Loras Tyrell cutting through them like they were butter. Some of the Unsullied began to circle around, protecting Tyrion, Missandei, Olenna and herself. It was carnage, with the only the screams coming from her own forces.

“It looks like the tide’s turning in our favour.” Tyrion said hopefully as he looked to their ship and other surrounding them. The Unsullied, Iron Born and Tyrell forces were holding them off and pushing them back. My forces are much more skilled than Euron’s Iron Born. It seemed to be going well for them, until some of the Iron Born among her forces began to turn on each other. It was evident on her own ship as she watched her corsairs start stabbing unsullied and Tyrells. One had stabbed Victarion in the leg. The Lord Reaper gave a scream as he hacked at the man, impaling him with his sword. The traitor died silently.

“Traitors.” Daenerys said harshly as the Tyrells and Unsullied started to fight them off too. Unsullied spears reforming their lines as the Tyrells reformed behind them.

“More likely spies your grace.” Tyrion pointed out as they watched their guards push back more Iron born.

Whatever Daenerys planned on saying in response to that was the appearance of another ship, crashing right into the prow of her own ship. It was a blood red ship with a single black sail. The torch lights showed a man and a woman tied to the prow. The ship was large and powerful. Daenerys could feel it as it hit her own flagship, causing the crew to once again shake. Then a swarm of Iron Born flowed onto her ship slaughtering more and more. They look like savages. Her men were holding, until her guards got filled with arrows from above her cabin. The archers jumped onto the deck aiming them at her advisors. Daenerys could see all of her soldiers surrendering as they realised their Queen was surrounded. The battle had eventually turned to silence. All but an amused laugh.

The laughing man walked her ship casually with a smile on his face as his Iron Born brought Victarion with them. Looking at the man, Daenerys could see he was handsome. Dark hair, a black beard, lean, muscled frame and a piercing right blue eye. The left was covered in a patch. His appearance was pleasing. Though it won’t save him, Daenerys thought, standing proudly as Euron Greyjoy approached her at the wheel. He gave her a devilish smile.

“Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen! It’s such a pleasure to meet you! A shame though that my brother forced us to do it this way!”

At mention of his brother the Iron Born punched Victarion in the gut. He spat at them.

“Traitorous wretches!” He yelled.

Euron laughed, keeping his bright blue eye on her. “They were never yours to begin with dear brother! You should never trust a silent Iron Born, it isn’t in our nature to be quiet!”

Daenerys gave a heated glare to the Greyjoy. “And in what way did another usurper plan on meeting me?”

Euron smiled genuinely. It was a dark thing.

“Well I expected it with you agreeing to my terms of marriage. I hope to be your dear husband after all. I dream of us taking the Seven Kingdoms. You on your throne and on Dragon back. And me leading your navies. The sea, the land and sky would be ours!”

Daenerys couldn’t help but admire his charm. She smiled in turn. “Your brother put it a lot more crudely. And I have to agree with him. This is no way to treat your rightful Queen.”

Euron kept smiling as he looked her up and down. She could see the lust in his eye. “No, I suppose it isn’t. But my brother left me little choice but to follow the old way with you. Not that I dislike the old way but I hoped to do better than to make a saltwife of you by the Iron price. The Mother of Dragons deserves so much better than that though!”

Daenerys’ smile turned cruel. I am the dragon. “You make a fair point. I am the mother of dragons. You threatened them with that horn of yours. A shame your brother burnt it. I won’t forget any that dare harm my children.”

She hesitated for a moment then gave an almighty shout to the sky with a grin. “Dracarys!!”

It was answered with an almighty roar as her dragons swooped down, starting to burn ships as they circled them. Her fleet and armies may have failed her but her children never would. She looked towards her advisors. They looked nervous as the fires started to consume ships. They burn unlike me. She knew she would just have to wait for the Iron Born on this ship to break and then her forces would make short work of Euron Greyjoy.

Daenerys looked back towards Euron, expecting him on his knees. Instead, he was laughing and grinning is if it were a joke. She scowled at him.

“You think this is funny, watching your men burn? You should be afraid. I am the Mother of Dragons! The Unburnt! Breaker of Chains! Queen of the Seven Kingdoms! The Khaleesi that mounts the world!”

Euron’s laughter calmed as chaos erupted on the other ships as they fought to regain control. Her dragons circling near to make another attack.

“I’m sorry my Queen. It’s just that you and my brother think ill of me. I would never give the real horn. I just wanted to see if Victarion would use it to take you for himself. It would have failed and you’d have killed him.”

He grinned then clapped. Daenerys and her advisors turned their heads as a group of Iron Born brought a massive six-foot horn onto her ship, bringing it to Euron. She noticed it wasn’t just squids. She could see the blue lips of warlocks from the east. More traitors.

“It won’t work. I am their mother.” She said firmly.

Euron shook his head and grinned. “You are their mother but I’ll be their master.”

As he said it, the Iron Born slit the throats of the warlocks. Blood dripped onto the horn, flowing onto the Valyrian markings.

“I only needed them for help in understanding it. But I wanted them to see you one last time. I know they wanted that. Shame only I can speak on the silence. I’m sure they would have had plenty to say to you if I hadn’t taken their tongues after they talked.”

He grabbed Olenna and forcefully brought her to the horn. Daenerys could see Viserion coming closer to try and help his mother. If he burns the ship, I’m likely to drown. I’ll wait until it fails, then my men will strike.

“What are you doing squid?” Olenna asked angrily as she was placed in front of the horn.

Euron grinned at the old Tyrell, “I’ve sailed across all the seas in this world. I’ve explored everything from West to East. I have said Old Valyria itself where I found this beauty. I have seen more things in this world than you can possibly imagine. And now I know how this works. The spells I found in Oldtown helped with that. I am the horn’s master. But to blow the horn it requires a life. No point wasting two beautiful women and a dwarf I can put on the prow.”

He moved towards Olenna then whispered something in her ear. The woman’s resistance evaporated in an instance. She pursed her lips, the blew on the horn. Daenerys watched as the markings burned red and Olenna Tyrell screamed soot and skin burning. The woman dropped dead. Viserion reacted to the noise, landing on the adjacent ship. Her child was looking directly at Euron.

Greyjoy clapped his hands and approached her dragon, walking quickly towards him. Daenerys gave a shout to her dragon. “Dracarys!”

Her dragon did nothing. Her other she heard roaring. They were circling back towards her.

“It is a shame the horn only works on one. But I think one is ample. With the blood magics I know. This great beast will be the largest and most vicious the world has ever seen! A fitting gift for me!”

“You’re not my child’s master!” She spat as Euron mounted her child. Viserion was compliant.

“Oh, but I am Salt wife. I am master of the seas and now the sky. The Storm God will fear me, and when I am done killing him. I will awake the Drowned God!”

Euron looked at her and smiled. “Fly”

Viserion started to beat his wings flying into the air as Drogon and Rhaegal returned. They roared at their brother. Euron grinned.

“What was it? Dracarys!”

Viserion breathed fire at her own brothers. Daenerys screamed.

Ser Barristan

It had been a long time since Ser Barristan had been in the Stormlands, his homeland. The last time would have been when King Robert visited. And the last time Robert had visited was when he still looked like the Demon of the Trident. It had been many years. And once again I am here to serve a different monarch . Barristan sighed at the thought of it as he walked through Storm’s End to meet the new Prince-Consort. The garrison had been filled with the Golden Company and the field surrounding the great castle was surrounded by the Dornish and Reachmen, all ready to serve the so-called son of Rhaegar. Barristan hadn’t been there when they had been killed, or when the bodies were presented. It would be joyful if this was truly Rhaegar’s son.

It’ll be nice to know I hadn’t completely failed the man, though I doubt my Queen will like that all. Barristan thought as he walked with Ellaria and her Sand Snakes to the hall of Storm’s End. Targaryen banners were adorning every wall he went past. It sent a strong message that it was no longer a Baratheon place. The group walked slowly as they entered the hall, walking through the Dornish and Reach courtiers, making their way towards Aegon Targaryen, 6th of his name. Barristan could see him sitting on his throne, laughing amicably with a beautiful Dornish woman in a free-flowing dress covered in Martell colours. The Princess Arianne.

The Sand Snakes were giving her a wry smirk as they looked at the sight. It was something his Queen would not like. She also wouldn’t like the fact that her husband clearly had the Targaryen look. It was a hard thing to dispute. Long white hair. The Violet eyes and slightly ethereal skin. The boy had dragon blood and that couldn’t be denied. Barristan knew the boy could be a Blackfyre. They were Targaryens too no matter how much the mainline disagreed. But Barristan had killed the last Blackfyre. I doubt this is a Blackfyre.

Barristan and the Sand Snakes kneeled before the Targaryen when the Prince noticed their arrival. Aegon gave a warm smile to them, standing from his throne. Barristan noted that he had a regal walk as he approached them, Arianne following alongside Jon Connington, another he had thought was long dead. You were always close to Rhaegar, you would know if this was his son.

“You may rise Ser Barristan and dear cousins.” He said with an air of authority.

He speaks well. Barristan noted as he took his stance, looking at Aegon.

“Your Grace. It is an honour to serve you.” Barristan said solemnly.

“I am glad to know me and my future wife have the great Ser Barristan on our side. Your feats as a King’s guard are legendary.” Aegon said kindly.

“I was simply doing my duty Your Grace.” Barristan said simply.

“You did your duty for the usurper too.” Jon Connington added.

Aegon waved Jon off in an almost joking manner, “And he left when he knew that House Targaryen was the rightful heir. I’m sure Ser Barristan would have come to myself and my aunt sooner if he had known I lived and where she was. I’ve heard tales she was on the move in her youth.”

The courtiers all seemed to be in his palm. They all smiled at his words.

He knows how to play the game.

Aegon turned his attention back to him, smile filled with charm. “Now, Ser Barristan. I received a raven detailing Daenerys’ acceptance of a match. Have you brought news of her plans?”

Barristan nodded, “Queen Daenerys has sent her Dothraki and Unsullied to attack the West and keep the Riverlords and Knights of the Vale from joining the fray. She intends to meet you at King’s Landing where you’ll take the city together.”

Though I doubt she will wait if she gets there first. Barristan thought glumly.

Aegon listened thoughtfully then nodded, “A sound plan. Our forces are ready to march for the capital and will soon. Though maybe if we’re lucky I can take the city first as a wedding present for my wife!”

Barristan heard the cheers of the courtiers. He wants to take it alone himself. My Queen will not be happy if he does.

That wasn’t a good start for the newly betrothed couple.

Aegon clasped his hand and escorted him to the head table. “I’ll have you sit in honour Lord Commander. I would have you tell me of my wife tonight whilst we celebrate my betrothal!”

The courtiers gave another cheer as they began to sit at their tables. Barristan sighed internally at the thought of speaking of his Queen. There had been many things that Ser Barristan had admired about his Queen. She had an intelligence to her which he had seen in her ability to absorb languages. And her willingness to free the slaves in the East had shown a compassion for the common people that he had not heard of since Aegon the Unlikely. Daenerys could inspire loyalty in her army too, something he had seen with her unsullied.

But for all of that, Barristan had seen more than enough to worry him. Having an army of Dothraki in Westeros, an army that was well known for its practices was not something Barristan approved of. Nor was the gradual abandonment for caring about people. Barristan had heard her rants on the freed men when they stated she acted like a master, something that he had been inclined to agree with. Something he had admired about her had gradually gone over time as her rule in Meeren had proven to be tenuous at best. It had ended in his eyes when she had left as soon as possible after the siege of Meereen, abandoning the people completely, leaving burnt ruins. Her compassion had been replaced with an unwillingness to adapt and an ignorance to the effects of her actions. It had turned into the same displeased look at the mention of those she called usurper. She has a similar temper to Robert. And no Jon Arryn or Ned Stark to calm it.

Barristan smiled outwardly, holding his tongue, “She’s beautiful you Grace. No man can deny that.”

Aegon smiled as he escorted him to his seat.

“A wonderful thing to hear about my Queen. I’m sure the courtiers and the common people will adore her.”

Barristan nodded as he took his seat. “I hope so to your Grace.”

Aegon grinned, “I look forward to my wedding more and more ser Barristan!”

Barristan heard another cheer from the courtiers as Aegon moved to take his place along the seat. Barristan looked down on the table. He could see among the table Connington, Lord Tarly, Arianne Martell and other notable figures of the land. Even Varys, the infamous master of whispers. But there was one woman that had caught Barristan’s eyes, dressed in the outfit of a Septa. And a one that the Dornish were looking at curiously in the room. He knew why immediately as she turned slightly. He could see the dark wisps off hair creeping out of her scarf, those great purple eyes and beautiful smile. Time had not truly changed her. She was as beautiful as she was when he had last seen her. He had first met her and spoke with her when she had joined Elia’s ladies. Her presence had made him regret his vows. I’d grown to love you when we spoke over time. How my vows hurt when we did speak. Ashara was a woman he had loved and mourned a long time ago. And she was here.

Ashara Dayne turned towards him and gave him a small smile. Her eyes could tell that she knew he’d recognised her. Though she kept it quiet. Barristan only smiled dumbly in response. Then something horrible churned in his stomach as he realised the truth of Ashara’s babe. This is the King in the North’s mother. She doesn’t know how much danger she is in. My Queen will not like this if she finds out who you are.

Barristan took a long drink as the celebration began. His oaths started to hurt once more.

Tyrion

Daenerys’ scream shot through Tyrion’s ears as he watched Euron control one of her dragons. It was breathing fire it its own kin. The sight was horrid yet fascinating. The Greyjoy has actually tamed a Dragon. It was amazing to see, for all that it might doom him. For all it will take my chances of killing my whore of a sister.

The other two Dragons roared fire back at their brother as Viserion flew to meet them properly. It would be a hard battle. Drogon was the largest of the dragons but the size difference wasn’t too much. He imagined this would be a hard battle. And the Maesters called this a dance. They’re fools. Tyrion thought as he listened to Daenerys scream through the night.

“Drogon!” She screamed into the night. Tyrion doubted the dragon would hear her but he did, swooping down, leaving Rhaegal to fight Viserion and Euron, lighting the night with flames. Much like their ships were. Not a single person was moving as they all watched the grand fight. There was an almighty shake as Drogon landed on the ship that Viserion had sat on, now sinking. Daenerys ran to him in a mad fury, climbing onto his back and setting him off to fly. The adjacent ship fully sank as the great black dragon returned to the skies. Tyrion heard a single cry from his Queen.

“Dracarys!!”

The Great Dragon breathed fire like it was the Doom at Viserion, trying to aim at Euron Greyjoy. Their claws were meeting each other in the sky, battering each other. Tyrion was transfixed as he stood with Missandei, watching the dragons fight. Then he heard movement on the decks. Victarion was livid as he broke free from the Iron Born, gutting them with their swords. He tried to set the horn alight to stop whatever spell had done this. It didn’t even singe. Permanent.

Victarion kicked it angrily.

“Get the fuck off my ships!”

The Reaper resumed combat, the Tyrells and Unsullied following suit. It had turned to chaos again on the ships as they began to fight amongst the burnt ships. Half of the navy’s been wiped out in one attack. Tyrion realised as he continued watching the sight above him. The fight in the sky was a violent one, watching dragon claws go underneath each other’s scales, ripping at the flesh as they tried to bite each other. From what Tyrion had seen at the Siege of Meeren, Drogon had been the most powerful, the most aggressive. But Viserion was acting much more violent than he expected. Much more vicious as he tore at Rhaegal and bit at Drogon. He looked almost bigger. What in the Hells did Euron do?

Tyrion honestly didn’t know the answer to that. He had studied and read more than most. This was impossible to do. To turn an animal like this in almost a matter of moments. Only magics could do that. Another eruption of dragon fire splattered into the night after Viserion tried to bite into Rhaegal and its wings. Drogon answering it with a burst of flame of his own. Then Viserion swooped down towards the ships and breathed fire on them. Tyrion swore he could hear a faint laughter from Euron. It sounded joyous as Viserion glided over the burning ships. To Tyrion’s horror Daenerys had followed on Drogon, breathing fire in response. Most hit the wreckage of ships. It was going on forever, the first battle of Dragons since the Dance. With no party truly winning. But she’s holding back.

That changed when Euron seemed to get cocky, bringing Viserion under Drogon to claw and burn his underbelly. Daenerys swiftly motioned her dragon to move, gliding to her right as Viserion flew upward, Greyjoy on its back. Viserion had hit briefly if the scream of Drogon was any indicator. Though it wasn’t enough. Drogon jammed his fangs right in Viserion’s leg. Rhaegal following on the other. The two Dragons started to thrash as they tore into the legs. Viserion was screaming violently as it tried to break free. It only screamed louder as Drogon tore off the leg. Making it scream more. Drogon clearly wasn’t done, turning its attention to the wing, grabbing it as Viserion lost control. Drogon tore viciously at the wing, creating more screams and roars into the night. Rhaegal had tired of his leg, ripping it off then flying in the face of Viserion. It breathed fire right into the head where Euron was. Tyrion could see that the fire had briefly hit Drogon as well, who finally let go of the wing.

A body dropped off the back of Viserion, hurtling into the water. Viserion still tried to attack the other dragons. Viserion tried to keep itself balance as it did but was falling with a broken wing. Drogon tore at its throat in descent. It hurtled down, crashing into the ocean. Tyrion looked in shock, as did everyone else among the burning ships and dragons in the sky. And a dead dragon sinking to the depths.

Only a dragon can kill a dragon. Tyrion hoped as he hobbled to the cabin, hoping to find a drink.

Hope you all enjoyed, I wanted coverage of both Targaryen claimants in this, and tae showcase Barristan's thoughts. In the books it is suggested that he had feelings fir ashara and was aware of her being pregnant so in this he puts two and two together very quickly.

I know euron I probably didn't dae justice tae, though I tried.This story won't be as extensive as my other fiction will be. A side note on that. I intend tae give Euron a good role in that hopefully.

In this story I wanted tae show that Euron could be successful in regards tae dragonbinder and that dragons can be killed. It will also fit nicely wae what I have planned further along in the story.

Wasn't sure how tae dae a dragon fight, hope it went well!

If anyone has questions feel free tae ask!

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 15: A Lannister's Debts Must Always be Paid

Hope you all enjoy! Feel free tae comment as always!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Maege

Casterly Rock was an impressive sight on the great cliff. Maege had to admit that when their ships first arrived in the Westerlands. Maege could see the great white walls adorned with gold and red. Gods she wanted to burn it down. But that would make what they planned obvious to the Westerlands. What they intended needed to be quiet until the very end. Her 3000 men would do it though. When every bit of gold in Casterly Rock was on their ships. Maege grinned at the thought. They’ll pay some of their debts to the North tonight.

Howland Reed and his scouts had been searching the area for a week and had found a feasible entrance through the sewage system within the caves, unguarded and otherwise unknown. According to Howland, the Lannisters possessed a similar system to the pipes at Winterfell for moving water around. The Crannogman had given a devilish smile when he said that made it all the easier to poison the well. Anyone within the castle was most likely to be shitting their guts out in the night.

It also taken them another week before they could strike. The Lannisters had been preparing their forces to march out of the Rock. They were going to war again. I’ve heard of everything from Tyrells to Dragons are at war with them. They won’t be winning this war.

“Are we ready to begin?” Maege asked Howland.

Howland looked out towards the sky. Darkness had completely fallen. “Aye, we can begin. The poison will have taken affect and I’ve sent my scouts ahead to take the rookery and bell tower.”

Maege grinned “Let’s go kill the fucks while they’re shitting more gold.”

“Har! If a man can’t fight while he’s shitting his guts out, he’s no true fighter” Tormund almost shouted.

She clubbed him over the head to shut him up. The wildling had insisted on joining her, not willing to part with his she bear. The revelation that the two had a long history of fucks beyond the wall had been an amusement to her daughters. Though it won’t be when Lyanna finds out this is the bear that should be called father. Maege groaned internally at the thought.

Tormund didn’t seem bothered by the club. He just offered a lust filled smile and shut up as they began their ascent up through the tunnels.

The Tunnels were unguarded for the most part, only nearer to the top was any form of resistance. Though they had already had their throats slit. Entering the castle proper showed that the great castle was more lavish than the outside. Great white marble walls, adorned with Lannister banners. Paintings in golden frames. Grand rugs. It all screamed of wealth. The wealth we steal may barely scratch them. But it would still hurt them, not being able to keep their own wealth safe.

The force of Northmen moved quietly throughout the keep, killing any Lannister on guard. Maege could see that Howland’s poisons had taken effect. The Lannisters looked ill. Maege could feel the joy of the Northmen as they stormed through the castle, killing every Lannister that came into sight. Maege grinned as her mace slammed into a Lannister’s skull, bits of blood splattering the white walls. Making their way through was gradually making more noise. Guards were becoming more and more aware, trying to form. She’d heard no bell though. As the Northmen turned one corner, they were finally met with a group of soldiers that could give them a fight.

Tormund gave a great laugh at the sight of the Lannisters, axes in hand. Maege gave her own roar.

“Bear Island!”

“The North Remembers!”

The Northmen charged right into the Lannisters slashing and hacking violently. Maege rammed her shoulder into the guards as she brought her mace into another’s side. The battle was turning to carnage, with Lannister blood and flesh falling to the floor as the Northmen hacked them to bits. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Tormund’s white beard covered in blood as his axes tore through a man’s neck and balls. He did the same to the cannibals of the ice river clans once.

Maege grinned at the memory as they finished hacking at the guards, leaving a bloodied mess. Only one was left. She grabbed the broken man.

“Take us to the Mausoleum!” She growled into the man’s ear.

He gave a whimper then nodded.

The guard was practically hobbling as they brought their contingent of Northmen to the Mausoleum. The rest were securing the keep’s servants and any Lannister soldiers. Even in the North they had heard of how golden armour was forged for each Lannister on display outside of their tomb. It would be their main haul while the rest of their numbers took anything else made of gold on the walls and tables.

She could see Tormund Grin every time they faced down soldiers as he tore through them.

“Gods these Andals are fucking useless!!” Tormund bellowed as his axe beheaded a man.

Maege was happy to agree in this case. They had taken them completely by surprise. In battle they were harder/ She’d fought them on the battle and knew that Lannister soldiers were well armoured and trained. But they’re not as tough as Northmen, and never as tough as Mormont women.

Reaching the Mausoleum had taken time but it was worth it in Maege’s eyes. Looking along the long chambers she could see golden armour and swords shining in front of each tomb. Tormund looked at the armour confusedly.

“What’s the fucking point of armour when you’re dead!” He bellowed.

Howland Reed smiled, “It doesn’t matter, it won’t be theirs anymore.”

Maege shook her head. “No, it won’t. Howland, go back and make sure that the castle is secure. Then we can start reclaiming what the Lannisters owe us.”

Howland nodded as he went off with some guards. Tormund turned to her with lust filled eyes.

Maege rolled her eyes, “Is that all you can think of?”

Tormund nodded with a smile, “How do you think I have so many children, including that daughter of yours! Fighting with a beautiful woman gets me member going!”

She heard some the forces give a small snigger behind. Maege gave them a glare. They shut up.

Maege turned her glare back to Tormund whispering to him. It was almost a bear’s growl. “If you don’t keep quiet Tormund, I’ll bite harder than the last time when you fought to be on top.”

Tormund just grinned at her, “Gods I’ve missed you she-bear!”

Maege clubbed him again as they waited for the all clear. Howland returned with a few more men and allowance to begin.

Maege shouted to the group “Let’s take every bit of gold in this tomb!”

It had taken a night to secure the grand castle and four nights to unload everything onto the ships. None had tried to take a tally but it didn’t matter. They’d taken plenty of it. Enough to show the Lannisters that they could be touched. Maege grinned as she left Casterly Rock. They were leaving it with less gold, a burnt great hall and a message carved into its floors for the servants and remaining guards to see.

The North Remembers.

Maege grinned at the thought as her ships sailed homewards, with gold filling them. The Lannisters have paid one debt in gold, and when Winter ends it will be in blood.

Hope you all enjoyed! They used Tyrion's whore tunnel fir this and made it there earlier than the Unsullied and Freed Men considering Dragonstone is East not West. I felt like wae the wars prior and the fact that they're fighting most of the South, the Lannisters should be spread thin, making this more possible. I will note that they couldn't take all the gold in the castle. Just as much as they could carry. And wear which includes all of the golden armour of dead lannisters. So they'll have got a lot. It is more a message fir all that the Northmen are pissed.

Next chapter returns to Moat Cailin. We will be there fir two or three chapters I think. Hope everyone enjoys that when it comes!

Feel free tae comment as always!

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 16: A Meeting of Stark and Arryn

Hope you all enjoy, feel free tae comment as always!

was on a bit of a roll so managed tae get this up a bit early, might have ta wait a week or two fir the next one though. Final stages of ma dissertation!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Jon

Moat Cailin was a sight that the small group was ready for when they finally reached its gates. Jon more than most. News of the army’s presence, Sansa and most importantly Arya had spurned him to action. It had been why he had only ridden with a small party of Northmen including Val, Whoresbane Umber, Sigorn of Thenn and Barbrey Dustin. And guards to hold the dead wights. He had also ridden with Ghost and some of the pack. The rest staying with Shaggydog and Rickon. His brother had been annoyed that he was leaving. Though Jon had promised that he wasn’t going South of the Neck, something which eased the lad. He remembers what happened to Robb for all that he can barely remember his eldest brother. Crowfood Umber had been made a Castellan of Winterfell for while he was gone.

Jon gave a sigh in relief as he looked at the Great Moat. Ready to defend the North from the South. Already defending Arya. How much I’ve missed you.

Val gave a small whistle. “And I thought Winterfell was large. You kneelers know how to make big castles.”

Jon grinned at the sound of her voice as they rode into Moat Cailin.

“Aye, and it would have been bigger in its prime. Twenty Towers all designed to choke any invading army that intended to harm the North.”

“An impressive ruin then.” Sigorn noted as he looked around, seeing the large garrison of Northmen running it.

“And still a dangerous one. Even in this state it can drive any army of Southerners back.” Barbrey added.

“Maybe we can rebuild it when winter ends.” Whoresbane said hopefully.

Jon nodded, “When the dead are dealt with and winter is over. Aye, we’ll rebuild it.”

As the party got further into Moat Cailin, Jon noticed that Ghost was searching for someone, sniffing and increasing in pace. Jon warged into him briefly, he was smelling for Nymeria. She was near. Arya’s near. Jon picked up the pace as they made their way into the courtyard, Ghost bounding ahead. They were met with a small group of Lords. Galbert Glover, Harrion Karstark and The Great Jon Umber, as big as his uncles. Jon could remember some from feasts when he was young. But it was the young woman with a pack of wolves surrounding her, standing further forward than the rest. And staring at him with Stark Grey eyes. Our Eyes. Jon had practically jumped off his horse as she started to run to him. Fuck propriety. He wrapped her in a full bear hug, picking her up like he had the last time. I’ve missed you. She could feel him hug back as fiercely as he was her.

They stood in the great Courtyard like that for what felt like age before the two broke the hug, Jon putting his little sister down. She was smiling at him. He looked her up and down, seeing her in breeches, tunic in Stark colours and Needle at her belt. Jon could only grin at her and ruffle her hair. She gave a playful scowl.

“I’ve missed you Little Sister.” Jon said almost breathlessly.

Arya’s playful scowl turned back to a smile. “I haven’t stopped missing you since I left Winterfell Jon.”

Jon’s grin grew, “Did you remember your first lesson with Needle?”

Arya nodded firmly, moving in for another hug, “Every time it saved me since I left.”

Jon returned the hug again before the two finally broke again, returning to everyone else. Ghost and Nymeria’s reunion had been similar to their own, the two wolves playing as if they hadn’t left each other for years. He could hear their joyous howls. Jon turned to the waiting Lords and soldiers; he could see them making them taking a knee. Then he heard the slam of swords into the ground. And a thundering boom from The Great Jon Umber.

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!!!!”

Then the Lords and soldiers followed suit, giving the same chant he’d heard at Winterfell. Jon looked around the courtyard before raising his hand for them to stop and get up. He whispered to Arya before the Northern Lords approached. “I’m still not used to that.”

Arya smirked, “Nor me with Princess.”

Jon started to laugh as he smiled at his bannermen, then back to his sister. You’re where you belong Arya.

Meeting with the newly freed hostages and talking with the Garrison at Moat Cailin had taken time. Informing Galbert Glover that his niece and nephew were safe at Winterfell. Making sure Harrion Karstark was in full support of him. The man had grievances due to Robb’s actions, and his own for marrying Alys to Sigorn. But the Lord had time to mull over his cousins’ crimes since reaching the Moat. and given his full support. The Great Jon had also given his full support, though he had tested both him and Val. That hadn’t surprised him. It was the way of the First Men. The meeting and showing them the wights had taken time.

But it had come to an end and he’d finally been allowed to speak with Arya into the night with Val. The two had told each other everything as they sat in front of a fire and drank slowly. From every good thing to the horrible. Jon couldn’t judge what Arya had done to keep herself alive. He’d done just as bad in different ways. Being reunited was all that had mattered. They were together and he would soon bring her home to Rickon. And Sansa if possible.

“Are you sure she was lying when she spoke to you?” Jon asked her.

Arya nodded at him as they looked into the fire.

“She doesn’t want to harm any of us. I can tell.”

“Are these kneelers going to hurt Sansa if Jon doesn’t do what they want?” Val asked Arya.

Jon growled into his drink.

Arya shook her head. “I doubt it. I think they need her too much. They want the North.”

Val laughed. “They think the First Men will bend to them! They don’t understand us much then. We’ll eat them alive.”

Arya looked at Val and then Jon, giving a knowing smirk. She likes her.

“What can you tell me about Baelish and her husband?” Jon asked, almost snarling at the mention of them.

Arya thought from a moment. “I don’t know much about the Arryn. He has a strut though and an arrogant voice. Baelish though, I remember from King’s Landing. I’ve met people like him in Braavos. He’s a snake.”

“Then we’ll kill them.” Val said confidently.

Jon and Arya both smiled at that.

“Glover told me that Baelish expected him to let him straight through. I’m guessing that’s already set him back.” Jon pointed out.

“He didn’t like my presence either. He thought Sansa was the only one left. He said she was the rightful Lady of Winterfell.” Arya said sadly.

“So, he doesn’t know about your brother then.” Val stated

“He wants us all dead but Sansa most likely.” Arya mused.

Jon felt his blood pump harder at the thought of it. I’ll kill them all when I get the chance. The Andals will be reminded what happens when they threaten the First Men.

Brienne

Riding with Sansa Stark and the party of Arryn and Tully men was something Brienne was glad for. Brienne had fulfilled a part of her oath, serving one of the Stark daughters. She’d been met with the usual stares from everyone but the Lady Sansa had accepted. And Lord Baelish had been keener once he realised that she carried both of the swords made from Ice, the Stark Valyrian sword. “A further show of the Lady Sansa’s legitimacy.” Brienne didn’t like the man. But it didn’t matter. She’d finally done what she’d promised. Both to Jamie and the former Lady Stark. The Lady Catelyn, or Stoneheart as the brotherhood called her, had sent her off to fulfil her duty. The brotherhood would keep their distance for now until they felt it easier to give their pledges. Or maybe she doesn’t want her daughter to see what she’s become.

Brienne had seen the cruelty and the callousness that had consumed the woman, with her slit throat pulsating whenever she grew truly angry. Something she had seen at the mention of Ser Jamie and his trial. She was lucky that the two had both lived, only getting away by mercy of the other members of the Brotherhood. They had believed him when he offered twin sword of Oath Keeper. Nobody gives away a Valyrian Steel Sword. Brienne had admired him for it. He’d proven he valued oaths over a sword worth more than most things in this world. I hope the war treats you well Ser Jamie. She sighed. And I hope we are not on the other side of the war to come. They would be marching South once they had the North to add to their forces. Once Sansa had taken her seat back. Brienne hoped that her cousin would agree to bend to her at the Parley. Our armies will get slaughtered at those walls.

Brienne rode in silence with the party, making their way to the meeting point, not far from the great castle of Moat Cailin. Brienne realised they would be the first at the meeting point as she dismounted. The party of Lords and Soldiers followed suit. Among them was the Lady Sansa, her husband Lord Arryn her Uncles Edmure and Brynden, Lord Blackwood and Lord Mallister, Lord Royce, Lady Waynwood, Lyn Corbray and Lord Baelish. Lord Baelish, Lord of Harrenhal and advisor to Lord Arryn, would most likely be leading this talk.

They didn’t have to wait long for long as the sound of hooves hammered across the Northern terrain. Brienne to her astonishment could see that it was more than just horses. She could see a large number of wolves and two Direwolves at the head. It made the group of Northmen look more fearsome. As they arrived, and began to dismount, Brienne made a count of who was present. Excluding the soldiers and wolves, there nine people. Five Men and Four women, the bulk of them not looking too fondly at the Vale Lords in the party. It didn’t take long for Brienne to discern which ones were Jon Snow and Arya Stark. With two Direwolves flanking them and their clothing adorned in Stark banners, it would be hard to dispute. Brienne took a long look at Arya. She was dressed in practical breeches, much like the other women in the party, with a sword and knife at her hip. She stood confidently. Her grey eyes were calm and collected, assessing everyone in the group. She was beautiful too. Brienne could feel the men in her group noticing her. Turning to Jon Snow, Brienne could see the same dark hair and grey eyes that Arya possessed. His face looked much harder than Arya’s. And much angrier. Almost as if he was ready to fight an instant. Almost ready to explode. His Great White Wolf was snarling at Baelish and Lord Arryn at the front. The King in the North turned, pointing that anger towards them. She could swear he was snarling as well. His eyes seemed looked furious. Brienne noticed a twitch in Baelish’s posture before he smiled at the group of Northmen.

Jon Snow ignored the smile and turned his attention to Sansa.

“Are you alright Sansa?”

For a moment his features softened. But Brienne could hear a growl in his voice.

Baelish didn’t give her time to answer. “The Lady Sansa is fine Snow. She has her husband, her uncles and the might of the Vale and Riverlands behind her.”

Brienne heard Jon snarl at Baelish. His hand was on his sword. Two of the Lords in his party, the largest of them, were following suit.

“He wasn’t asking you Lord Baelish.” Arya stated coldly.

Brienne felt slightly cold. She could hear the malice behind them.

Sansa answered before Baelish could make a retort. “I am well Jon. Though I would prefer it if you referred to my title.”

“My wife speaks true Snow . You should speak to your trueborn cousin with her rightful titles.” Lord Harry Arryn added.

Jon turned his glare towards Lord Arryn. He looked him up and down and his face etched into a scowl. The Northmen had turned their glares towards Arryn. One Lord, dressed in leathers with bronze scales and bronze greaves spat into the ground before speaking with a thick accent.

“And you should address him as King boy.”

The woman by his side, slender and with a coltish look seemed to agree “Better yet, he should be grovelling for forgiveness on behalf of the Vale for failing to fight the Lannisters.”

Most of the Vale Lords present look displeased at that. Lord Royce looked guilty. The Riverland bannermen present were murmuring with the Tully Lords. Baelish was quick to intercede before Lord Arryn sauntered over. Brienne noticed that Sansa wasn’t trying to calm her husband.

“My Lords and Ladies, I was hoping we would not have to resort to such harsh words as early. I was hoping for a much more peaceful discord.”

“Then keep your mouth shut and let my sister speak” Jon said firmly. His teeth were baring.

He’s half wolf.

Baelish made a mock of being affronted but motioned Sansa to the centre. Her husband by her side. Brienne made sure she was near as possible. Sansa stood firmly as she looked at Jon Snow. She looked regal like her mother.

“Jon, I want to thank you for taking Winterfell away from the Boltons. You proved yourself loyal to House Stark and the North for doing that. But now that I have returned, The North should be returned to the rightful heir of House Stark. I would have you return my titles and bend to me. I would have you as a commander in the Northern army. We can march south together and avenge Father.”

Sansa spoke firmly and with conviction. Her words were polite and well meaning. Brienne was impressed.

Jon looked at her hard. “Speak our House’s words Sansa.”

It wasn’t a question.

Sansa followed the command. “Winter is Coming.”

“Those words are a warning Sansa. A warning that Winter is hardship and suffering for the North. And now that Winter is here, I won’t be marching the blood of the First Men South. It is not the time for it.”

Lord Baelish smiled at that. “The Vale has an abundance of resources, and my time as Master of Coin has afforded me some connections. I’m sure I would be able to feed the North in both winter and war.”

The largest of the Northmen glared at the Vale Lords then exploded into a shout.

“I WON’T TRUST A FUCKING VALE LORD!!! You betrayed Ned Stark the moment you didn’t fight with his son!!”

The North Remembers, the saying is true then. Brienne realised as she looked at the Northmen. The large lord had turned his glare to the Riverlords, glaring at Edmure Tully.

“AND WHAT OF YOU!!! You declared for Robb!! You bled with him and he saved your arse from the Lannisters! Is this how you repay him by betraying his heir and King!”

This isn’t going well at all. Brienne could see that the Northmen were not going to be cordial or willing at all. They were clearly more willing to have an illegitimate son of Stark if they didn’t have to deal with people who they believed were threatening them.

Edmure Tully made to speak firmly with the large man. “Lord Umber, we are fighting with Robb’s heir. Only Sansa and Arya are left and she is the eldest. That makes her the legal heir.”

One of the women in the Northern party, with dark hair and sharp features gave a small chuckle. “I’m afraid that’s not true in any case Lord Tully .”

She spat the word Tully as if it were a plague. Brienne noted.

The woman looked straight at Sansa. “You see, when Robb Stark had heard that you had been married to a Lannister, he made a will that disinherited you because he didn’t want a Lannister at Winterfell. He instead named King Jon Stark as his heir. He legitimised him and released him from his vows. He is the rightful King in the North.”

Baelish’s smile broke slightly before recomposing itself. “That sounds like a grand tale to me. And even if that did exist, Sansa never consummated with the Lannister and is now married to an Arryn, an ally of House Stark.”

The second Umber as Brienne guessed was quick to grab something out of his pocket, giving it to the lady Sansa.

The lady Sansa read it with a grim expression.

The second Umber spoke firmly and proudly. “Lady Dustin speaks true. As you’ll see that is signed by your brother, noted by many Northern Lords to boot. Lord Umber here among them. And with our King being Brandon’s son, it puts him ahead of both Sansa and Arya as well.”

The Blonde woman smiled darkly at Baelish. “That piece of kneeler words doesn’t really matter either. He took the North with strength as a First Man and a Northman.”

The Vale and Riverlords were silent for a moment. Baelish, the most talkative of the Lords usually, had as well. The wolves were snarling at him. Then he gave a small smile. “Did you know about that Will when you left the watch. Or did that only happen after?”

Jon’s snarl grew louder. He looked ready to rip into the man’s throat. Baelish seemed to smile. “I don’t think you did then? In my eyes that would still make you an oathbreaker.”

Jon looked at Baelish with eyes like the wolf. Almost predatory. “I fulfilled my vows Lord Baelish before marching to gut the Flayers and Squids. You march on Moat Cailin and threaten my family and I’ll do worse to you.”

There was a certain finality to those. It wasn’t arrogant or cocky. It was a promise.

Lyn Corbray didn’t seem to believe the words. He smiled at Lord Baelish, then to Jon.

“I disagree. Your savages for Lords have thrown insults at the Vale. Speaking of how we did nothing to fight with Robb. I would argue that you did exactly what they claim of us. You only broke your oath when everyone of the trueborn were thought to be dead. When your claim would be undisputed. You live up to the name of a bastard.”

Brienne didn’t see the punch Lord Umber had thrown at Corbray. What she did see was Lord Corbray hit the ground with a large thud and a scream.

“Insult my King again boy and I’ll make you an ugly corpse!!”

She could see blood flowing freely out of his mouth, teeth smashed to bits. The jaw was the same. The entourage of Lords and Ladies looked uncomfortable at the sight of bone piercing through the skin of Lord Corbray. Brienne hadn’t even seen the hulking Northman get that close to him. The Vale and Riverlords had all unsheathed their swords, looking directly at lord Umber. The Northmen had done the same, and the pack of wolves were prowling, teeth bared. Lord Arryn was furious.

“One of your traitors just struck my bannermen at a Parley! My wife has offered you fair terms, more than fair terms considering your broken oaths. Instead you refuse. You don’t know true honour Snow and clearly don’t wish to resolve this peacefully. Do you want war when Stark and Arryn have been friends for so long?”

Brienne could see the Lord was speaking eloquently, trying to prove himself the better. The Vale Lords seemed to like the appeal to honour.

Jon stepped forward to Lord Arryn with an angry scowl. He stood scowling at the Lord for a long moment, his sword in hand. Then the face turned solemn. His body relaxed for a single moment.

“I have an offer for you lord Arryn.”

“And what is that?” Lord Arryn asked.

“You want the North. You can have it if you defeat me in single combat tomorrow. I won’t waste your armies’ lives trying to do something that’ll get them slaughtered.” Jon said simply.

He’s willing to bet the North on combat.

Lord Arryn smiled. “That is quite an honourable offer. A trial by combat should be more accurate though. If you win you will be seen as innocent of oath breaking and stealing your cousins’ claim. And you will die guilty should you lose.”

Jon snarled. “If you want it to be trial by combat then call it that.”

Brienne looked at Sansa. She could see some nerves on her lady.

“I guess that Lord Umber will be your champion.” Lord Arryn stated.

“I fight myself. Pick one for yourself if you’re craven.” Jon stated bluntly.

Brienne motioned to offer herself as Sansa’s champion for her claim. Sansa gripped her arm for a moment. For the briefest moment she could see a shake in Sansa’s head.

Lord Arryn grinned. “No need Snow. I’m no craven. I am a knight and lord of the Vale. I will defend my wife’s claim.”

The Lord went and gave a kiss to the Lady Sansa. Jon Snow snarled at that. He then turned to her. He pointed at Widow’s Wail. Brienne gave the sword to him reluctantly.

Baelish smirked and decided to speak again. “You see that Snow. This is one half of Ned Stark’s sword. Ice. The Lannisters forged that and the Lady Brienne’s other sword out of it. I think it is fitting that Lord Arryn made the excellent choice of wielding it. A good show that he is the true defender of the Lady Sansa.”

Jon started to growl before looking back towards Sansa. “I’m sorry for what comes on the morn.”

Sansa gave him a cold glare. “Don’t be. You’ve proven yourself a traitor to the North.”

Brienne looked on at the group. None of the Northmen looked pleased as they began to mount their horses. Only the Lady Arya had a small smile on her face before leaving with Jon Snow.

The Last to mount was Lady Dustin. She was looking at Baelish with a devilish smile.

“You know Brandon Stark told me of the duel he once had with you. It was a great Jape. He told me of how he almost cut you in half with one half-arsed swing. I think his son is going to do one better.”

The Lady Dustin started to laugh as she rode off with the Northmen, starting to join her chuckles. Baelish’s smile had completely vanished.

Brienne looked at her Lady. “Are you ok my Lady?”

Sansa nodded. “I’ll be better once justice has been served for House Stark.”

Brienne nodded as they began the ride back to camp. Lord Arryn looked confident as did the other Lords and Ladies that could still smile. Sansa was smiling at her husband. Why do I think that smile is not a true one? Brienne wondered as she pondered her Lady’s words to her.

Hope you all enjoyed, the fight will be next chapter. I felt like Harry would feel compelled to dae the fighting, as proof that he is honourable, instead of letting others fight fir him. Even though he is an arrogant tool as shown in Sansa's pov and in the actual canon. Baelish as you can see had no control at all in this. No Northmen likes him at all, they dinnae know what he has done specifically but in general they see him as Lannister at worst or another Vale Lord that betrayed them.

If anyone has questions feel free tae ask!

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 17: To Rip off a Bird's Wings

Hope you all enjoy, feel free tae comment! Got it out a bit earlier because dissertation is going really well! So had time tae dae this chapter!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Harwin

Harwin was regretting asking for Lady Catelyn to be returned to life. Because Ned Stark would not have wished this fate upon his wife. But it was a mistake. Harwin knew that all too well. The monster that she was could be tolerated when they were killing Freys. But what they were planning now. No, Harwin could not do it. I won’t. The brotherhood had assimilated quietly into the camp, with one of their own quietly approaching Lord Arryn to inform them they would be supporting them. They had been left mostly alone, hidden in the encampment. Away from those that would recognise Lady Stoneheart for who she once was.

Until someone had approached them, someone who Harwin had remembered to be Master of coin. The man had offered Thoros, the Lady’s voice to keep herself hidden, a job for them. A trial by combat was to take place between the King in the North and Lord Arryn. If Lord Arryn was to lose, they would kill Jon. The Lady had been eager to accept the offer, to protect her daughter’s claim. And now that task had made them hide in wait at the designated point where the trial would take place. Harwin would not be a part of it. He hadn’t argued with the Lady, knowing her answer would still be to kill him. He was a usurper in her eyes. He’s the King that avenged Robb and the North in mine. Harwin had fought with the brotherhood to help the smallfolk. He had told that to Arya Stark once. This would not help the smallfolk of the North. And not the ones that will be hurt in this war to come.

I just have to wait for the right moment, then I can stop this from happening.

Harwin hoped he could as the Brotherhood waited in the darkness for the dawn.

Val

They had fucked each other hard that night. They had filled the Moat and the Neck with their voices as they rutted like animals. They’d truly been like wolves after the meeting with the South. After meeting the prey that thought to harm the North. Thought to harm the pack as Arya had said. The two had barely got themselves back to their quarters. But the two didn’t really care. He was the King in the North, and She was the Queen in the North according to Jon. A title that Val did not need, but a one Jon had insisted she take after wedding under the Heart Tree upon their return to Winterfell. Val hadn’t been able to deny it as Jon gave the Lord’s Kiss. If he wants me in the kneeler way as well, so be it. I’ve stolen him the true way. It would be another incentive for Jon to win the fight. Not that he needed it. Her Jon had been furious with Baelish and Arryn. She could see the anger that he had at the sight of Squids and Flayed Men. He wanted them dead. Maybe not as much as he had the Squids Boltons, she could see that he didn’t need to make as much effort in controlling himself when the threat had been in the North. But the desire to kill those that what hurting his family was present.

They’ll regret what they did today.

Val knew well enough that today Jon intended to prove a point to Baelish and the Lord Arryn. The ones that Arya believed had forced Sansa into the marriage would be learning a lesson. And a painful one Val imagined. Val turned her attention to Jon as they prepared for the ride to the meeting point. He was wearing that Northern attire he had been gifted. The only thing he had chosen not to wear of it was the Tunic. He was showing his scars, with their Weirwood branch pattern. A show of the Old Gods returning him to life. Only the Tartan banner in Stark colours covered his torso. Everywhere else was armoured, sword at hip, knife on leg and shield at the ready.

Val smiled at him as he embraced her for a moment. “I see you’re showing them your scars today.”

Jon’s grinned like his wolf. “Aye, might as well let them think on it. Give them more harrowing tales of the North.”

Val laughed, “They’ll have too many by the end of this day.”

Jon nodded. “Good, I’ll have them know of the North. And what we do to those that threaten it.”

Val smiled as she kissed him deeply. The kneelers will remember this day if they do not want it in droves.

Sansa

Sansa had never liked the way her people acted when she was young. Never truly understanding why the courts of the South were frowned upon in the North. The bluntness of the North and the lack of Southern spectacle had been one of the things that had made her yearn for the South. But to see the way Northmen acted towards the Game yesterday had made her regret her childish dreams of the South all the more. The complete hatred for the courtly games of the South had never been more apparent. It had been glorious. And watching Jon and the Northmen wipe the smirk off Baelish was worth all the hells he’s put me through. Baelish had come face to face with a group of people that could not be bought or wooed by pretty words. His false promises were seen for what they are, falsities. Sansa had never been prouder of her family and to be of the North, no matter how much it put them in a dangerous position.

Sansa knew that Baelish would be plotting. To find a way to make things right should lord Arryn fail to defeat The King in the North. Sansa smiled to herself at the thought as the bannermen of the Vale and Riverlands waited for Jon. I hope you kill him, please don’t die to a man who thinks he has the right to father’s sword. She didn’t know how this fight would end but she hoped her brother would win. Another thing that would go against Baelish, Lord Arryn being dead too soon without an heir to the Vale. I want to thank you and Arya so much Jon. Sansa thought sadly. But she wouldn’t be able to do that. Sansa had to look like the enemy here. No matter how much it hurts. Both for her own protection and to keep Baelish happy. Until I can get rid of him anyway. Sansa would lose her family doing this, she knew that much when she’d seen Arya’s smile. A confirmation that Arya had always been right about her. That she was no true Stark. It didn’t matter, Sansa would keep the North safe from the South. She’d learnt too much of the Game to be useful in the North. I can only protect it from outside the North even if this piece of the Neck and Moat Cailin is all I ever see of it again.

“Are you alright Little Cat?” Great Uncle Brynden asked kindly.

Sansa smiled kindly at the man. “I am Uncle, just impatient for seeing the victor of the duel to come.”

Brynden raised his eyebrow then smiled wryly. “I’m sure the winner will do justice for House Stark.”

Sansa nodded at her Great Uncle. “I look forward to seeing justice for House Stark.”

Brynden smirked as they both looked at her husband speaking with the lords and Baelish. Brynden was the only other Riverlord besides Lord Blackwood who had been aware of the will revealed earlier. He had spoken of it to her in a rare moment where they could be alone in Riverrun. Her Uncle obeyed Robb’s words, even if he knew how her mother had disapproved of it then. Even now he would make sure his King’s decree was upheld, just like Sansa wanted. Family, Duty, Honour, he knows them well.

The presence of Stark and Northern Banners made the Lords of the Vale and Riverlands form up. Her brother’s arrival was much similar to the one yesterday. Him riding at the front with a small number of Northern Lords, Arya, soldiers and the pack of Direwolves. Seeing both Ghost and Nymeria made her melancholic for Lady. But to see the wolves alive and so big that they could eat a man whole gave her comfort. They would protect them.

Sansa’s patient wait was interrupted by Harry. He was dressed in full Vale armour, proudly wearing the Arryn colours. He would have looked gallant if he wasn’t an arse. Her husband came towards her and kissed her as the Northmen arrived. Sansa feigned a smile.

“Is my Lady going to give me her favour today?” Lord Arryn asked sweetly. Sweet as Sick.

Sansa smiled demurely as she offered a handkerchief with her initials and colours, also intertwined with Arryn ones.

“Of course, dear husband. I doubt that you will need it.”

Lord Arryn grinned, taking another kiss. “I will make it merciful for you.”

As he finished kissing her, and began to walk to the field of combat, Sansa heard the same snarling that Jon and the wolves were making the day before. Or Jon will kill you brutally. Brutal was a word that seemed to describe her brother now. There wasn’t much difference between him in ghost in terms of facial expression. It screamed of wolfishness and a hardness she had only seen on the statues in the crypts. Sansa could still see pieces of the solemn boy she had known, when it softened at the sight of her. But Sansa could see the world had hardened him, had brought a savagery to him that was not likely to ever leave. Sansa imagined the Boltons, Freys and Iron Born would have been terrified at this sight. Our family’s suffering has made you part wolf brother, I hope it serves you well.

Her brother was speaking with his Lords and Ladies whilst her husband stood preparing. Jon’s appearance had brought shocked murmurings to the crowd. He was dressed the same as yesterday, albeit without the Tunic. Only the tartan banner adorned his torso. And the scars across his chest. Sansa could see five large scars across her brother’s body. They had clearly healed, albeit in an unusual pattern, but they looked much larger than normal. And one was right over his heart, the largest one. Sansa gasped as she looked at it. Brynden put his hand to her shoulder.

“What’s happened to him?” Sansa barely whispered.

“They’re stab wounds Sansa.” Brynden said. He was looking hard at the scars.

“He should be dead from those wounds.” Edmure stated as he stood beside Brynden.

“You have the right of it, he should be dead. I’ve seen men die from less and never survive wounds like that.”

What happened to you brother? Sansa asked to herself as she stared, transfixed at the scars. Transfixed at him. In the cold she can see that her brother was breathing. His skin a slight red from exertion. His heart must be beating. He was alive.

“The scars look familiar.” Sansa realised. There was something about them that reminded her of something.

Lord Blackwood seemed to have an answer. “They have the pattern of Weirwood Branches Lady Sansa.”

Another symbol of home.

“A tattoo over his scars?” Sansa asked the Rivermen.

They all seemed to shake their head.

“I’d say your Jon Snow is touched by the Old Gods. Those scars have healed to look like branches of the Weirwood. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Blackwood sounded almost reverent as he said it. He’s of the First Men and a follower of the Old Gods. He must think those scars a sign.

“You think the Gods healed his scars?” Sansa asked him.

Blackwood looked pensively at her then shook his head. “I think they brought him back from death. He said he fulfilled his vows.”

Sansa heard Edmure give a snort but Brynden looked like he was agreeing with Blackwood. “That he did Tytos.”

Who did that to you Jon? Sansa wondered as she took another look at the scars as her brother spoke with his Lords. He seemed to have let them all murmur about them. He wanted us to see them, do you want us to know you died? Or do you want to show you have survived worse than Arryn can give?”

Jon finally turned his attention to the Vale and Rivermen. He was looking directly at Edmure.

“Lord Tully!” He shouted forcefully. The growl was there. Edmure looked back at her brother. He was nervous at her brother’s attention.

Jon looked back towards the Lords and a woman and a young man walked slowly over the field towards her and Edmure. They were also followed by a man with blonde hair, looking out into the crowd. Sansa noticed the woman was carrying a babe. She could hear it squealing. Edmure seemed to recognise her as he almost ran to meet. He was looking right at the babe. Edmure looked almost in tears as he stared at the babe and woman.

Then Sansa heard a shout from Lord Piper in the crowd as he made his way to the front, shouting to the man.

“Son!”

The two Pipers both hugged before breaking when the King in the North spoke to Edmure again.

“Arya Stark freed your wife and child them from the Twins after executing the Freys.”

Edmure looked at her brother. Sansa could see he didn’t know how to respond. Instead just nodding to him as the group of rivermen re-joined the crowd. Edmure taking his place again besides Brynden. This time with his wife Roslin, child and a young lad she didn’t know. Looking at the child Sansa could see the Tully look was strong in him, clearly Edmure’s son. He would have made a better hostage brother. But returning the heir to the Riverlands and House Tully won’t be forgotten either I imagine.

Sansa looked towards her husband, the Vale Lords and Baelish. Her husband looked confused, Lord Royce was one of the few Vale Lords to look pleased and Baelish looked annoyed. Sansa could guess why, the Rivermen were murmuring again.

Her husband decided to finally speak. “I believe it is time we begin the trial now. Are you ready Snow?”

Jon just growled at her husband, putting a shield in his left and unsheathing his sword as he made his way towards the centre of the field. Her husband strutted towards the centre proudly. Baelish had moved himself to her side among the mix of Vale and Rivermen. Much to her displeasure. The entire group of Northmen were keeping their distance, on the opposite side of the circle that was forming around Jon and Lord Arryn. Before the Trial would begin. Her husband looked confident as they waited for the bout to be announced. He was holding a part of Father’s sword as if it was his by every right. Jon on the other hand looked predatory as he waited. He was wielding a Valyrian steel bastard sword as well according to Brynden.

“Quite the sight. A bastard wolf and the Falcon of Arryn.” Baelish said calmly as they waited for the Septon that had joined them from the quiet isle to announce the “trial” was to begin.

“It is my Lord. Do you have confidence that my husband will win?” Sansa asked in a worried tone.

Baelish smiled and patted her shoulder as if he believed the worry was for her husband. “Of course, my lady. I believe a knight of the Vale will be more than a match for your bastard cousin. I’ve been thinking he relies on that pack of wolves too much than fair combat.”

Sansa hoped that wasn’t the case. “I’m sure you are right my Lord.”

“And if you’re wrong this might turn into a repeat of the duel you once had Lord Baelish.” Brynden stated dryly.

Baelish’s smile vanished. The Septon finally spoke. “The trial of Jon Snow on claims of oath breaking and usurping his cousins’ claims will begin. May the Seven decide who lives and is innocent!”

Jon growled at mention of the seven as the wolf of House Stark and the Falcon of House Arryn began to circle each other.

“A champion of the Old Gods against a Champion of the Seven.” Lord Blackwood whispered into the crowd.

The two circled shortly before her husband made the first move with Widow’s Wail. He went for a thrust into Jon’s chest. The part of him Jon had left unarmoured. Jon sidestepped him quickly before he could hit anything. He didn’t break his stare at her husband. His Stark Grey eyes looked angry as he. Lord Arryn quickly turned, having expected a blow to strike him. Jon had done nothing. He was just staring into Lord Arryn’s blue eyes with venom. Lord Arryn went to repeat himself. Making thrusts and stabs, trying to get close and do damage to her brother. Jon dodged every single one without having to use his sword or shield. His predatory look hadn’t changed.

This went on for some time, with Jon not even making much effort as Lord Arryn grew more frustrated with him. Something which could be seen by her husband deciding to speak. Sansa sighed internally.

“Why do you not fight Snow? Do you already accept your fate? Or can you not fight without a wolf?”

Sansa didn’t find the words charming or inflammatory. Some of Baelish’s lackeys and Lords in the pocket gave a cheer though. Jon didn’t make a reaction towards the word. He hadn’t become more hateful and angry with Harry than he already was. He simply grunted and made another dodge as her husband made another futile physical jab with Widow’s Wail.

“I wonder why he is not fighting back.” Sansa wondered as the Jon continued to avoid Lord Arryn at every turn.

“I think me and your husband have the right of it. He cannot fight without his wolf.” Baelish said somewhat smugly.

To her surprise both Edmure and Brynden snorted. A rare thing for the two to be in complete agreement.

“You still don’t know much about combat Lord Baelish.” Edmure said as he looked between his child and the fight.

“I’ve never seen someone as bored in a fight. Lord Arryn isn’t shown much skill at all and the bastard can see that. I believe the bastard is going to prove that soon.” Brynden said with a small smile.

He’s waiting to do something. Sansa realised as she watched Jon dodged once again. A small smile. A feral smile starting to curve his lips.

Baelish’s face faltered again as he returned to the fight. Her husband was growing more annoyed.

“A bastard and a craven too!” He shouted as he aimed for a quick strike at Jon.

Jon finally blocked it with his sword. The block had clearly knocked Arryn off guard as the clash of Valyrian Steel final happened. Then Jon pushed back Harry Arryn’s sword firmly with force. It sent Arryn backwards. Then Jon’s shield smashed into Arryn’s face, knocking him off balance. There was a gasp from the Vale Lords as watched Harry Arryn almost fall. Then there was another smash as Jon hammered his sword into Arryn’s shield. Sansa heard a large crack and then a scream from her husband.

“He’s broken the arm!” Lord Piper exclaimed.

Jon’s smile erupted into a feral grin as he smashed the shield again as Lord Arryn tried to put the shield in front of him. He screamed again as the shield broke.

The Northmen were cheering. Her sister loudest of all.

“The Jon!!”

“The Jon!!”

“The Jon!!”

Her husband started to move away from Jon, trying to recompose himself as his shield dropped to the field. He was wielding Widow’s wail shakily. Clearly in pain. Then Jon moved in, wolfish eyes looking at Arryn like a slab of meat. His bastard sword striking Widow’s Wail every time. Then Jon let Arryn make an attempt at a parry. Widow’s Wail met the Stark shield instead. Direwolf almost eating the sword as it lodged into the shield. Then Jon pushed the shield upwards with the sword lodged momentarily. Her husband lost his grip on the sword, falling out of his hand and into the ground. Jon smashed the shield across Arryn’s face. Blood splattered everywhere as her husband’s teeth were knocked out. There was a lot of blood flowing from Arryn as he frantically tried to pick up the sword with his right arm. Screaming unintelligible words as he did. Blood splattering out of his mouth.

“Your husband’s bit his tongue off there.” Brynden noted.

Good. About time he shut up. Sansa thought as she started to feign tears.

Jon didn’t let him pick the sword up. He’d sheathed his own sword and had picked Widow’s Wail up. He then kicked the Lord of the Vale and sent him to the floor. Jon grabbed him by the neck and dragged him to the centre. Sansa watched with fake tears in her eyes as he dragged him, growls of Jon and the wolves behind the Northmen. Arryn was resisting on his knees. It wasn’t working. Sansa looked to the Northern group. Her sister was moving to the ring with a wooden block. The block brought her back to King’s Landing on that horrible day.

“He’s going to execute him!” She screamed in mock terror as she feigned an attempt at going to her husband. The Lords grabbed her to stop it. They knew a trial by combat was binding. Baelish’s face looked distraught.

Jon pushed Arryn onto the block with his shield. Her husband was screaming blood out of his mouth. There was too much blood and not enough teeth for him to say yield. Not that Jon will let him. He’s going to give me justice.

Jon took the shield off. Looked at Arryn angrily, then swung her Father’s Valyrian Steel sword into Harry Arryn’s neck. The head dropped off instantly. Jon hadn’t even broken a sweat in the entire fight. It was effortless.

The crowd had turned silent. Then the Septon spoke. “The Gods declare Jon Stark, The King in the North, innocent of all crimes!”

Sansa feigned a pained wail as Baelish’s face turned to a beautiful, scornful frown.

Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! I wanted Jon tae execute him wae Widow's Wail because it is made fae Ice. Made the execution much more fitting in my mind. Was the main reason he waited as long, just dodging. He wanted tae get the sword and make it hurt.

Sansa is very focused on the fight in this but I should note that she has been plotting against Littlefinger. Harry's death helps wae that massively.

And as you can see Brynden obeys Robb tae the end. And Jon gave the Riverlords and Edmure's wife and child back as a show that the north remembers fighting with the Tullies, fir all that he has no blood ties wae them.

Next chapter will be Arya's. You will find out the aftermath of the execution.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 18: Even the Dead can cause suffering

Hope you all enjoy, feel free tae comment as always!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Arya

Harry Arryn’s execution by Jon was something the Northmen had been happy to see. He’d turned a trial by combat into an execution by the Old Way. And the Vale and Rivermen were honour bound to obey the outcome. Arya and Jon doubted they would keep their word on that matter. The Northmen had just killed the Lord of the Vale, for all that he was using Sansa and threatening the North. Lord Baelish had a mixture of fury annoyance and nervousness on his face as her brother proved himself the King in the North. It was beautiful. He wasn’t the only one that was displeased. The Vale Lords were not happy at all as Lord Arryn’s head rolled onto the field as her sister made fake wails of grief. Her sister made a great mummer, the Vale and Rivermen seeming to believe every tear. Arya knew better though. Every tear was either fake or a tear of joy. Sansa Stark wanted that outcome. And sadly, she wanted to stay with the Lords of the Vale and Riverlands. Arya had seen the hurt on Jon’s face as she made her claims that she would never return to Winterfell and that his offer to take her home was meaningless.

“I don’t need to hear a bastard give me absolution for being married to an Arryn. It should have been you dead on the floor!”

Arya had told him any word she said against us would be a lie, a mummer’s farce to make the Southerners believe her for whatever plans she had. But the words seemed to shock him briefly as the Lords of the Vale formed up around her, the widowed Lady of the Vale. That shock had only been for a moment, ending as Jon growled and sent for the soldiers to get the Wights. That had brought the fake tears and shouts of war to silence. The Vale and Rivermen had been terrified at the sight. It was a hard thing to see them, and impossible to call it a trick when Jon cut a leg off one and it kept moving. Littlefinger had no response for what had been placed in front of him. For a moment at least.

“You may reconsider our offer when you realise you need allies.” Baelish had said, trying to regain that easy-going façade.

Val had responded harshly to him. “We’re not after allies. There’s enough Dragon Glass to kill the others for the Northern army. What we’re telling you to stay out of our way or you’ll be looking like that.”

Most of the Lords present had seemed fine with that. They probably want us all dead after this. All but two Lords had offered and insisted on aid. Lord Blackwood and his force of five hundred men, mostly archers, had decided to come North. And Lord Royce was to send his Robar, his second born and five hundred as well. The rest of his forces were to stay South until he could send more. Those two houses were of the First Men. And the wolves had trusted their words so Jon and the Northmen had accepted. And now they were riding for the Moat, to wait for the forces of the Vale to leave and the extra support to come.

Jon was looking slightly pensive as they rode.

“You know she was just playing a farce, don’t you?” Arya asked him.

Jon nodded and smiled. “Aye, Arya. I know. She reminded me of words said a long time ago. Words that don’t bother me anymore.”

She remembered how the term bastard had affected him when he was younger. It was good that he didn’t care about those words anymore. He’s always been my brother. I’m glad those words no longer harm you.

Jon then started to grin. Wolfish to the core. “I was more surprised that she wanted to stay with them. I could barely stand most of them.”

“They’ll probably hate you more now that you’ve made them keep the Wights.” Val said lightly as she rode up beside Ghost.

Arya could hear some of the group start to snigger at that. Arya started to laugh as well.

Jon grinned. “I’m sure they can keep them under control. Something to make Baelish nervous about if he ever comes North.”

The Northmen started to laugh louder as they rode nearer to the Moat. The group was enjoying themselves after seeing the fight. Great Jon Umber and Harrion Karstark had been pleased to see the King was a fighter. And the Northmen in general had been happy to see the Vale Lords punished in some form for not fighting with Robb. And what better way than to kill their liege Lord? Arya thought as she rode. Then she felt something from Nymeria. Looking to her she was on alert. Jon had must have felt the same from Ghost. The wolves in the pack were all alert. Jon motioned for the group to stop.

“Everyone close in. Someone’s after us out there.” Jon said firmly.

The Northmen all followed suit. They all formed up, unsheathing their weaponry as they waited. The wolf pack had made a strong formation around the horses, sniffing out for threats. Arya listened for something. She could hear the winds. Through Nymeria she could smell people watching them in the woods that marked the border between the marshes of the Neck and the fields of the North.

The silence was broken by a Northman shouting up front. Running towards them and shaking his hands.

“Ambushers!!! They mean to kill you!!”

The Northman’s voice was cut short as an arrow pierced his throat, sending the Northman to the ground. Blood spurted out of his throat as he died. Jon snarled viciously.

“Shields up!” He roared to the Northmen.

Arrows started to Volley in the air. The wolves started to move and dodge them whilst the rest battered onto their shields. Whoresbane covering both himself and Arya under his. The volleys went on for a few moments before the ambushers seemed to tire of it. Instead moving out of the shadows. There were about a hundred of them, some on horse and none in any recognisable colours. Though there was one she did recognise among them. Thoros of Myr.

Arya didn’t have time to shout curses at the brotherhood without banners as Jon shouted loudly, almost a howling like the wolves.

“Kill the bastards!!”

It was met from a roar from the Northmen as they started to ride into them. Arya among them. This would be her first proper battle, the rest being either one on one or much smaller groups. She unsheathed Needle as she charged into the Brotherhood. The Brotherhood wasn’t any real match for her as she made quick stabs at their necks as Nymeria and the pack hammered into them.

“Winterfell!!” She shouted as she stabbed one that thought to knock her off her horse. She kept doing the same with each and every one, parrying quickly and getting past their defences as they made strikes and thrusts at her. It was short work for the Northmen. The brotherhood had skill but nothing compared to the Northern Lords and soldiers, all veterans in some form. Arya smiled as she made her way through the brotherhood and Nymeria at her side. How she imagined it since Nymeria came into her life. It was becoming a massacre for Brotherhood.

To the right, Arya could see Great Jon Umber and Whoresbane Umber brutally hacking at their attackers with their Great swords with the soldiers. They looked furious at the attack. Harrion Karstark and Sigorn were both defending their sister as they fended off the attackers. Alys was holding a knife behind her brothers. She was stabbing any that were trying to come near their horse. Jon looked like Theon the hungry as he rode into them, gutting them where they stood with Long claw, Widow’s Wail at his back. Val was much the same as her knives cut through them all while the wolves were tearing at them.

Arya and the group made short work of their attackers, leaving only five that had surrendered. Before meeting their captives, she went to see who had warned them. Looking at the dead man she realised it was Harwin. The one who had chosen to stay with the brotherhood, wanting to protect the smallfolk. She felt a wave of sadness at him. He’d wanted to save them before the brotherhood could do anything. Arya closed his eyelids for him and muttered a silent prayer. All men must die but it is all the sadder when they were trying to do right.

Arya turned ice cold as she made her way to the captives. Jon and the Northern Lords looked angry. The wolves were snarling. Ghost and Nymeria especially. They almost looked rabid. Only two Northmen had been killed and four had been injured. And five members of the brotherhood were captive. Thos that were left were being dragged to the front, Thoros among them. One was hooded. Ghost and Nymeria seemed to be snarling most at the hooded one as Arya took her place beside Jon, Val and the Lords. Jon was snarling at Thoros.

“Red Priest.”

Arya heard Jon spit the words with rage.

Thoros, a usually jovial man from her memories, looked uncomfortable in Jon’s presence.

“You’ve met one before?” He asked nervously.

Jon growled. “A priestess, tried to burn a girl alive. I cut her head off.”

Thoros’ darker skin paled.

“Who ordered this?!” Sigorn shouted angrily. Bronze dagger in hand.

Thoros went silent. Karstark punched him.

“Answer the question!” He yelled.

They were answered by a pained rasp from the hooded one. It was only a single word. A woman’s voice.

“Usurper.”

The wolves had started to snarl much louder at the woman. Val unhooded her, revealing her mother. Arya took a step back. You died with Robb.

The Northern lords all looked shocked. Val and Sigorn looked confused at the reaction. Her mother looked at her in a sparing, unimpressed glance then stared hatefully at Jon. Her mother’s face had turned bitter. She could see age lines, a scowl at her lips and bits of skin that didn’t look fresh. It looked dry and dead in some places. Her hair looked much the same. Looking further down she could see her neck, slit to the bone. It was pulsating with blood dripping. It wasn’t natural. Jon was staring at her mother solemnly.

“But your mother died at the wedding.” Great Jon said, shock evident in his voice.

“Red priests can bring people back from the dead.”

Arya said as she looked at her mother. Her mother turned and gave another unimpressed stare at her. She felt uncomfortable under it.

Thoros nodded, “Beric gave his own life for hers after Harwin asked. Though he clearly regretted it. She was too far gone in my eyes.”

“A Red Priest can’t properly bring someone to life.” Jon said quietly.

Her mother sent more pained rasps towards Jon.

“Oath Breaker.”

“Usurper.”

“Traitor.”

Lady Catelyn’s hateful words got angrier with each word. Did you think this of him before? Was it more than coldness? Arya questioned sadly as she looked at her mother. If she could be called that.

“Murderer.”

“Thief.”

“Bastard.”

More blood was oozing from the slit throat as the words became more spiteful. Jon didn’t flinch. He just looked at her with solemn grey eyes as the wolves snarled. He doesn’t care at all what she says anymore. He’s just judging her actions now. All Men must die and Jon won’t tolerate someone who tried to kill us.

Why did you do it? Arya thought as she looked sadly at her mother. She’d had a cruel fate done to her at the Red Wedding. And now a crueller one brought back like this. I want you to turn back to how I remember you, even if you tried to kill Jon.

In her sadness she almost didn’t see the knife her mother had hidden, thrusting up to attack Jon. He and the wolves were quick to see it but Arya was nearer to her mother as she used needle to deflect the knife. Arya didn’t realise she had countered until she had taken Needle out of her mother’s chest. Arya moved herself away in horror as she realised, she’d done it. Her mother looked surprised for a moment as she started to fall forward in pain. Blood was oozing more out of her throat at another pained rasp.

“Traitor.”

Her mother had placed her hand over the bleeding wound. Her other hand on the ground as she bent over, trying not to die. Arya couldn’t look away as her mother’ face looked up, staring bitterly between Jon and her. Then she heard Jon’s furious snarl and the sound of steel unsheathing. Jon had unsheathed Longclaw and swung his sword cleanly at her mother’s head. It dropped quickly, leaving separated blood and puss.

“The blood’s thick. She’s been long dead on the inside.” Sigorn stated glumly.

Arya barely heard it as she felt Jon embrace her in a tight hug after ordering the body burnt. She sobbed for her dead mother. All men must die but it doesn’t stop the pain.

Hope you liked the chapter. To any that would expect the crannogmen tae have dealt wae them before this. They took out about half of the brotherhood that had been hidden before the ambush. Lady Stoneheart didn't know that until they started tae attack.

I felt that arya stabbing stoneheart in the heart would be a good choice, dealing the killing blow tae someone she doesn't want to. Also felt like Jon would be furious that catelyn would put arya in that position. And he cut the head as both an execution and fir everyone tae see it as him that did the killing blow.

If anyone has any questions, feel free tae ask

we'll be going south fir a bit now in the next two chapters.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 19: A Betrayal for Love

Hope you all enjoy! Had most of this one written fir a while hence an earlier one. That and the dissertation is done except fir referencing and boring shite like that. Though it will be a week until the next one while I get all that done in one go.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Jon Connington

The March to the Outskirts of King’s Landing and the King’s road, where they were to meet with Daenerys, was a glorious thing to see. Aegon in all of his finery at the head of the armies of the Golden Company, Dorne and most of the Reach. Targaryen banners were flying proudly above it all. And Rhaegar’s son would soon be restored to his rightful place. The Lannisters would soon die and the Realm would see its true monarch. Jon had never been prouder of the man he had raised. Aegon spoke well with all of his Lords and Ladies, playing the courtly game well for someone has lived far from it. He was able to keep peace between the armies from two kingdoms with old enmities and a company that had a poor history with the realm. He fought well with the Lords. And had proven himself a good commander both in taking Storm’s End and killing mace Tyrell. Rhaegar would be proud. I hope I have done you justice by your son Rhaegar.

He was a true King. There was only one thing that annoyed him about Aegon as Jon watched him laugh animatedly with the Princess Arianne on horseback. The two had been nigh inseparable since her arrival with the Dornish forces. The Dornish woman had gained his attention from the start. Her sultry appearance with lightly fitting dresses, her Dornish drawl and her wits had charmed Aegon. Even after the declaration of a marriage between Daenerys and him, the two hadn’t separated. If anything, the Princess Arianne had stayed with him even more. It wasn’t uncommon for a King to have a mistress, or the Dornish to have paramours, but he doubted the Mother of Dragons would approve if Aegon decided to restore the old Targaryen tradition of having two wives.

Something to discuss with Varys Perhaps. Jon mused as they started to camp on the King’s road, beginning the siege preparations for the capital.

Daenerys

Viserion’s death had truly hurt. She hadn’t felt pain for loss for a long time. Not truly since Rhaego and Drogo. Seeing her child turn on her and continue to even after Euron had burnt had been almost unbearable. Seeing him fall into the ocean to sink was a despairing sight. No Dragon had deserved that fate, falling to the depths of the ocean away from the skies. No child of hers had done that. Grief at her child’s death had only turned to anger. Daenerys had every last one of Euron’s pirates thrown onto a ship and burnt alive by Drogon and Rhaegal. Rats like that deserved worse for daring to harm her child. For their master to dare think he can tame a dragon, and to kill another with fire. Fire cannot kill a dragon.

And I am a dragon. Daenerys thought to herself proudly as she rode with her armies to meet with her nephew and future husband. He would know and see that as she marched to join his forces for the taking of King’s Landing. She had sailed from Dragon Stone with 20,000 men and had lost 12,000 to Euron’s attack and half of her fleet. But that did not matter. Some of Euron’s ships, including the silence to Victarion’s joy, had been commandeered. Daenerys was able to join up with her khalasar that had blocked the Lannisters and the other half of the Unsullied and Freed men who had taken the rock, making her force 80,000 strong. An army fit for the dragon. Jorah had told her of his successes in harrying Lannister lines with the Dothraki, routing and breaking forces that were to head for the capital. And the Unsullied and Freed men had followed Tyrion’s plan, taking the Rock.

But to hers and Tyrion’s ere, not the first. The Northmen had found the same passage according to the reports, slaughtering most of the guards left and stealing as much as they could carry in gold and supplies. The North Remembers had been written in blood across the walls and banners inside the Great Castle. Tyrion had been furious that his seat of power had been desecrated in such a way, to be humiliated like that by the Northmen. He had been especially wroth at the removal of all the golden armour of long dead Lannisters. “A spit in the face of House Lannister.”

He may hate his family but he is clearly still a Lannister. Daenerys had seen by his attitude towards the affront. It was an affront to her as well, for taking the gold that was rightfully hers. A recompense for usurping. But the Northmen had taken that right from her as well. The Usurpers have never stopped causing me problems. It would not matter in the long term. They would be bend or burn. Approaching the siege showed her “nephew” had an impressive force, blocking the city from having any help from the outside.

“It’s a strong army Khaleesi.” Jorah pointed out.

“It is. An excellent addition to my forces.” Daenerys agreed with her loyal knight. My betrothed had best remember that fact.

“Our armies will be more than enough to take the capital from my bitch sister. It will be quick” Tyrion said with a mix of happiness and forcefulness.

“True, but a siege always does more damage to the invading army, especially if we rush it. There is both the city and the fortress to take.” Jorah countered to her hand.

Tyrion scowled slightly, clearly not liking being counselled on battle tactics.

“The sight of my dragons circling the city will ensure us an even quicker. What forces your siblings have will bend at their sight.” Daenerys said confidently. What is a lion to a dragon? Only another sheep.

Tyrion nodded as he took a sip from his wine flask “Of course your grace. I think it best that we discuss how to approach the oncoming meeting with Prince Aegon and his forces.”

Daenerys sighed at that. “Is it not a simple matter of them bending the knee to me? I am their Queen. Should they not be the ones making sure they approach me correctly?”

“A fair point Your Grace but you must be seen as the healer of the realm. Approachable. The one that will end the chaos the realm has fallen into. You can’t just be powerful; you must recognise their woes and grievances and be able to solve them.”

“What grievances could the Lords have?” Daenerys asked hotly.

Tyrion snorted. “Many Your Grace. Even with Dragons the Lords will still air their grievances. Once the city is taken, you’ll have the Reach to deal with first. There are many tensions there.”

Daenerys looked coldly at her hand. “You mean the grievance caused by Aegon for killing Mace Tyrell in battle? Where half of the Reach abandoned the Tyrells at the beginning of the Battle in favour of him and refused my call and that of the liege lord Willas?”

Tyrion nodded. “It is a solution that needs fixing, regardless of the cause. The Reach has turned into factions between the Tyrell supporters and those behind House Tarly. As the Queen you will need to handle that. Both sides have fair grievances that are unlikely to resolved with a simple verdict.”

An issue that I should not have to deal with.

“Those grievance can wait until our Queen is returned to her seat.” Jorah stated simply.

Daenerys smiled at Jorah’s words. He understands

“Ser Jorah is right. This is something that should be dealt with when all of my Kingdoms are back under control.” Daenerys decided.

Tyrion was wise enough to shut up, turning his attention back to the wine.

“Your Grace! Prince Aegon and his party have arrived to meet with you!” Loras Tyrell shouted as he rode towards them.

Daenerys gave an almost displeased smile. Let me see my future betrothed. If I am lucky my dragons will burn him alive, showing he is no true dragon. Daenerys winced slightly as her own thoughts sent pain towards a mark on her back.

Her future husband had the Valyrian look. Daenerys could see that much in his ethereal appearance, standing out among his advisors on the field. The Prince Aegon had a slender figure, sharp cheek bone, white hair and light violet eyes. He looked vaguely liked Viserys in a certain light. Though with a lot less of the madness by his composure. Tyrion and the Dornish had been right to say that he had the Targaryen look. That annoyed Daenerys. They already think him a true dragon.

Daenerys stood proudly with her own advisors as they approached her. They will come to me for I am the Queen by Right.

Her husband strode over to her confidently with his advisors. He lowered himself slightly and took her hand, giving it a gentle kiss before returning upright.

“It is an honour to meet you my Queen. It is so good to be with a fellow Targaryen. And such a beautiful one. Ser Barristan’s words do not do my betrothed justice.”

Daenerys smiled faintly before Tyrion could give a withering look. “Thank you Prince Aegon. Your words are very kind. A good sign for our betrothal and House Targaryen.”

Aegon seemed to like the words as he smiled at her. “I couldn’t agree more my Queen. And it will be all the better once we regain the capital.”

“Yes, a true start to my reign.” Daenerys said as she stared intensely at her nephew.

Her betrothed’s smile faltered for a moment, as did some of his advisors. She noticed some were staring uncomfortably at the Dothraki and Unsullied commanders she had brought. Others were staring at Loras Tyrell. And a bald man was staring directly at her. There was an air of displeasure surrounding them all. I’m sure that will end soon.

“I would also like to offer my condolences as well Your Grace. We were all saddened to hear about what Euron had done to Viserion.”

Daenerys lost her smile. Who betrayed me and informed them?

“I thank you for that. All you need know as that my child was avenged with fire and blood.”

Daenerys said the words with force. They were her words. Words of the Dragon.

There was a moment of silence before an almighty roar came from above as her dragons began to descend. The advisors in Aegon’s court looked nervous.

“Would you like to see my dragons Prince Aegon?” Daenerys asked. A true smile coming to her face now.

The Dragons landed near them on the field. It made a grand sound as the earth shook.

Aegon held his nerves to her chagrin. “I would be honoured to meet them Your Grace.”

Their two groups walked together behind them as they looked at her children. The symbol of her reign as rightful monarch. The Queen of the throne.

Drogon was looking particularly powerful today as he stood beside Rhaegal. He looked at Aegon viciously. Rhaegal was sniffing. Daenerys was smiling. Do my children sense him as a usurper? A fake? A mummer’s Dragon? I hope so.

Aegon turned to her as they stood before them. His face was awestruck. “May I ask which is which Your Grace?”

Daenerys nodded as her lips curved more. “Drogon is the black scaled dragon, I’m his rider. The Green is Rhaegal. You may get nearer if you like. You are the blood of the dragon.”

And you will burn if not.

Aegon nodded and strode confidently towards the two, specifically at Rhaegal. Drogon was staring hatefully at him. Rhaegal was sniffing, eyeing up the prince. She could see some smoke coming from his mouth. Aegon had made his way to stand directly in front of Rhaegal. He stood firmly as he put his hand out to the dragon. Daenerys could feel the tension of Aegon’s advisors as they watched. Daenerys was waiting for Rhaegal to prove him to not be a dragon.

Then to her horror, Rhaegal lowered his head, allowing the Prince to touch him. No. The Prince touched his snout. The Dragon let him keep his hand there for a moment, before lowering his neck further. Aegon took that as a sign, making his way onto the Dragon’s back. He is not a dragon. You will fly up and throw him off, show he is not worthy.

Then she heard him say a single word in High Valyrian. “Fly!”

And Rhaegal did it, flying into the air and circling for a few moments. She heard the cheers of Aegon’s advisors as Aegon made his spectacle around them. Cheers for the son of Rhaegar. Daenerys wanted to scream. He steals my child!!!

“I suppose it is fitting, the son of Rhaegal riding his father’s namesake.” Someone whispered into her ear.

She wanted to kill whoever had, but couldn’t see who in the crowd. A usurper.

Aegon finally landed Rhaegal next to Drogon, disembarking proudly. There were cheers among the crowd still. He made his way over to her and kissed her cheek before addressing everyone.

“I thank you my Queen! You’ve given me back a piece of my Father! And House Targaryen restored to her glory, I promise you that!

His words were met with more cheers. Daenerys did her best to hide her displeasure. She was surrounded by usurpers who wanted her throne. And my child I loved has betrayed me for one of them. Daenerys thought angrily as she remembered Quaith’s warning as the burn mark on her back seared.

Jamie

The Defence of King’s Landing was proving to be impossible as Jamie watched his men getting slaughtered by the armies of House Targaryen as dragons circled them. He was glad that they hadn’t decided to join in with fire and blood. Not that House Targaryen needed it. The city was being overrun by Reach men, the Dornish, the Golden Company, Unsullied, Dothraki and gods only knew what else. His defence of the city walls and the gates would only hold for so long, for all that he’d seen his men fell as many of the enemy as possible. There weren’t enough arrows to volley, not enough hot oil to drop, and 20,000 men was not enough to hold back over 100,000 permanently.

That was why Jamie had ordered a retreat as soon as he had seen a larger number of soldiers hit the gates. 2000 had been left behind to cover their escape to the Red Keep, with Gregor Clegane, or Robert Strong as Cersei called him, at their head. That monster of Qyburn’s would keep them at bay long enough to make a suitable defence in the keep. It would give him the time to treat. Jamie hoped that would be possible anyway as he listened to the screams echoing in the city as he rode his forces into the keep. The only place he imagined where they would not try to burn. Where the throne was. He’d lost half of his army. This is a mess. A hopeless mess.

Jamie had wanted to treat from the beginning. Make peace with Aegon or Daenerys, whichever one that would come to their doors. But no, Cersei had not allowed that. And he couldn’t do anything about it while that monster dogged her steps. She had instead called the banners of the Westerlands, all they had left. Most of what was left of their forces hadn’t even made it to the capital. Felled by Dothraki and Unsullied. Daven had been a part of that host. Another family member lost. The Westerlands had burnt under them and the Rock had been taken twice. It meant they had even less to rely on. A quarter of their army in this defence were city folk, forced into the fight by the Queen. He’d seen a number of those die quickly on the walls, despite his efforts to have them placed with properly trained forces. It doesn’t matter anyway if we can’t treat.

Jamie made his way to the throne room as quickly as possible to Cersei with Marbrand and some men. They were to stay outside. As he entered, Jamie saw his twin sitting on the throne. The only place she would be. He could see her face. It looked smug. Even with the armies of realms upon us you look smug.

She beckoned him to come up the stairs. Jamie walked slowly.

“Have the armies of the Dragon Whore and the pretender made their way into the city Jamie?” she asked.

There was no worry in her voice. No fear. Only confidence.

“They are. I’ve left Clegane to hold them back in the city.” Jamie replied.

Cersei’s lips curved into a smile. “I see you finally see the value in him.”

“He will give us time so we can surrender and save more men.” Jamie said firmly, stepping closer to the throne.

Cersei’s smile didn’t leave. “And why we surrender when I have them where I want them?”

Jamie’s grim face turned darker. Seeing a smile that he had once loved for what it truly was. Toxic.

Cersei stood from the throne. Ever so close to him. “Have you not figured it out Ser Jamie? Now that our forces are safe and they think us running we will burn them with the substance. Then we will clean up the ashes.”

Jamie sighed for a moment. Cersei seemed to think it was because he hadn’t figured out what she had planned. He’d known since he had seen what she had done to the Sept. Is this my fate every time in this city?

He feigned a smile. “I’ve always been a bit slow haven’t I dear sister?”

Cersei placed herself every closer, pushing her figure towards him. “You have, but I’ve always been there to help you. Ever since your hand grabbed my ankle at birth, following me into this world.”

Jamie could smell the wine on her breath. He held his smile, placing his only real hand to her face. He then kissed her as he once did. One last one for her as he moved his hand down to her neck and put pressure on. It was too late for her to realise what he’d done, attempting a scream that met no ears but his own. And that ended as her eyes started to glaze and her body went limp. He kept his hold as he gently placed her body onto the throne. There were tears in Jamie’s eyes as he looked at his sister before informing Marbrand to wave white flags for a surrender, only to return back to his sister’s side.

A King slayer, A Queen Slayer and a Kin Slayer. Nobody in this world will understand that. Only Brienne. I hope she knows that I have kept my oaths as a knight in the end.

Tyrion

The taking of King’s Landing was a bloody one as Tyrion rode with Daenerys and Aegon through the city. Flanked by a mix of Dothraki blood riders, Tyrells It hadn’t taken them long to get over the walls and into the city. The Lannister men left at the city gates had put up a good fight, with Clegane he presumed putting up the greatest fight, felling more men than any of the host he had been given. He’d even felled Loras Tyrell, who’d somehow ended up fighting him alone for a time. The true fight worth watching was the Mountain that rides fighting the Dornish. Tyrion had seen from a safe distance the brutality and ferocity of both sides in that moment. Spears had clashed angrily into him.

“For Elia!”

“For Oberyn!”

He’d heard their names so many times until the Sand Snakes and Lord Dayne stepped into the fight.

They had been the ones to defeat him, with Dayne using Dawn to cut a leg off and the sand snakes spearing everywhere else. He’d never seen more blood flow out of a man, and never so sickly looking either. Like poison. Tyrion didn’t care about that though. It had been an excellent sight to see the man who had almost condemned him to death get brutally speared and stabbed to death. With only Ellaria Sand and Obara falling with the other nameless warriors and Loras Tyrell.

A telling for the ages. But I’m sure Cersei’s will be better. Tyrion thought almost giddily as he made his way through the battered streets. Tyrion was marching triumphantly as Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West and Hand of the Queen. And two dragons circling the city, roaring victoriously. That was what Cersei would see before she was brought to the black cells. He would enjoy taking his time with Cersei. She deserved every foul torture a man could think of and more. She would die a broken woman. A fair price for all that pain she has caused me.

Jamie though he would give a quick death. His brother had been kind to him most of his life. All except for Tysha. That would not be forgiven and deserved death. I’m already a kin slayer. What is two more?

It didn’t take them long to reach the keep, meeting Lannister banners and white flags of surrender. Tyrion had expected Cersei to fight more. Maybe Jamie has finally put some sense in her.

Tyrion heard a shout from above. Marbrand if he was right.

“We are willing to surrender! As long as none of the soldiers are harmed!”

“A fair request my Queen do you not think?” Aegon asked kindly.

He’ll make her look bad if she disagrees. He’s playing the game here. More in his head than I thought the last time.

Daenerys was glaring coldly up at the keep instead of her future husband. She doesn’t hide her displeasure well.

“I think you are right. Open the gates and surrender your arms and you will all be spared. Though your False Queen will not!”

They waited for a moment before the gates opened. And weapons on the fortress walls slowly dropped down to the ground.

Daenerys had a self-satisfied smirk on her, as did Aegon. And soon I will too.

It hadn’t taken long at all for them to secure the keep as Daenerys and her husband rode triumphantly to the Iron Throne’s hall. The Lannister soldiers and Lords hadn’t put up any fight, true to their word. The same had applied for the courtiers too. Many had kneeled immediately to the Targaryens. Cersei had inspired no loyalty in the court. And soon they will see you die a broken woman.

Opening the great doors to the doors felt triumphant for Tyrion as he rode into the throne room. As the Dwarf that had cast the largest shadow. The shadow of the Queen’s hand. Tyrion noted as they entered that the hall was empty. There was not a single guard or soldier for the Queen and Aegon’s men to fight. There was all but two people up near the throne, neither of them moving. The group of dismounted from their horses, Daenerys leading the walk up the steps towards the Throne. As they got closer, Tyrion could see the two unmoving people properly. Sitting on the Iron throne was his sister, emerald eyes looking shocked and betrayed. Looking down he could see strangle marks. And at the foot of the throne was his brother Jamie, with a short sword impaled in his gut. His face looked sad yet peaceful in death. There was none of the smugness on his face that he was associated with. He looked almost solemn. It doesn’t suit him. Tyrion though as his face contorted into an angry scowl.

Cersei was dead. And Jamie had taken that pleasure for himself. He’d taken Tysha from his as well, and now this. It was infuriating. Father denied me my rights. Cersei and her spawn Joffrey humiliated me. The Northmen stole from me. And you abandoned me and took away my vengeance, my glorious moment.

Tyrion wanted to scream as he looked at his dead kin while the Queen and Prince looked at the bodies.

“They deserved worse Your Grace.” Tyrion said angrily.

Daenerys seemed to be in agreement. “They deserved to burn. A false Queen and the King Slayer. Even now they desecrate the throne.”

“What do you want done with the bodies Your Grace?” Ser Barristan asked.

“String them up and march them around the Red Keep. The Small folk will know they have been liberated.” Daenerys said with a hint of cheers amidst the smugness.

Tyrion scowled as he started to drink again. They were supposed to be mine.

Hope you all enjoyed it! Sorry fir anyone who likes Jamie. I didnae really have anything tae dae wae him hin this story. His arc doesn't really go beyond this here. I went with book tyrion here but he does have his more redeemable qualities as you see when he's talking politics wae Daenerys.

As you can see Daenerys got burnt by viserion and euron. Also Rhaegal likes Aegon because he has dragon blood in droves and a valyrian look. Everyone thinks that further cements he is the son of Rhaegar. Danerys isnae happy about that.

Any questions, feel free tae ask!

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 20: Toppling The Titan

Hope you all enjoy! Feel free tae comment as always!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Sansa

In her naivety, Sansa once assumed that Littlefinger’s plans were etched in stone. Immutable and impossible to defeat. She once thought that he had everyone dancing to his tune, all falling into the places that he wanted them. All so he could use the North, Riverlands and Vale to seize power. But ever since his announcement of Jon taking back the North, that assumption of Baelish was proven to be false. Littlefinger was clever, he knew people, what they wanted and how they were most likely to react to situations. But it didn’t mean those things were a guarantee. They weren’t made a certainty for all that he had started a war. He couldn’t think of every possibility that had come from it. Nor could he think of the variables that he was unaware of or had written off; viewing them as insignificant to his plans. Petyr Baelish couldn’t control every piece on the board.

That was becoming more and more abundantly clear to her as she sat in her quarters at Riverrun, waiting for Baelish to meet her. Sansa was sure of that. Harry’s untimely execution had lost him the North and made his position as an advisor to the Vale much more unstable. It was made even shakier by the arrival of the heads of the brotherhood and a blubbering wreck of a man claiming that Baelish had ordered him to kill her brother. Baelish had only avoided execution from Lord Royce because it was the word of a man who nobody knew had followed the army against a Lord that still had some level of control over those that owed him. But there was blood in the water now. Sansa could see that and it had given her more room to topple Baelish.

His entrance was announced by a gentle knock. Sansa had sent Brienne off to fetch the Vale Lords and her uncles. She gave a soft command.

“Enter.”

Lord Baelish entered the room with his fake smile. Sansa could see in his eyes that he was annoyed. News from King’s Landing of both Aegon and Daenerys Targaryen sieging the capital. Another thing he did not expect.

Sansa smiled softly towards him, motioning for him to sit opposite her. He seemed to calm.

“Lady Sansa, I’m very glad you asked to see me. It has been a long time since we could be both alone.”

“It has Lord Petyr. I felt it was time that was rectified. I was hoping we could speak about what comes in the future.” Sansa said calmly.

Petyr seemed to like her words as he poured himself a glass of wine. “Of course, may I ask though how you are feeling? The loss of Lord Arryn must be hard.”

Sansa softened her features to make herself look more vulnerable.

“It is Petyr. Though what position it leaves me is forcing me to move past my grief faster than one would allow.”

A lie over grief but a truth over the position. Her position as the widow of Lord Arryn gave her some power, secured for now due to lord Royce and his followers’ support and those Baelish had under control. Though she would have had much more if she were pregnant. But then I would be pregnant with Lord Arryn’s child. Emotions aside, it would have secured herself as regent of the Vale.

“Yes, that is true. Lord Arryn failing to give you an heir is troublesome. Though I believe your solution has been quite well supported by the Vale.” Petyr said confidently.

Sansa was pleased with the approval. She could tell that he wasn’t lying and undermining her in this moment. Lord Arryn’s extra-marital pursuits had proven to be useful. Lord Arryn had two bastard daughters and word had come that the second was also a girl. Sansa had been slowly politicking the lords to get them on board with them being raised to Arryns. It had worked well, mainly due to the knowledge that one of their sons or grandsons would ultimately marry the girl, ending House Arryn and legitimately replacing them with their own house. A much more pleasing idea and prospect for the Lords than having an Arryn of Gull town who were only merchants. The only real obstacle to that was Lady Waynwood, their grandmother. Though she was agreeable after some subtle promises of positions in the Vale court.

“I’m glad you think so Petyr. It makes me happy to know that it will not be a problem.”

Petyr offered her a glass. She took it, gently caressing his hand with hers. “You are so much like your mother. Willing to have your husband’s bastards in your household takes a great deal of humbleness for all the hardship it can cause.”

Sansa nodded, “Though at least these children will serve a much greater purpose.”

Baelish chuckled lightly. Though Sansa could see the discomfort at reference of Jon. Thank you so much for giving me this gift Jon. “That is a fair point my lady. May I ask what you have thought of the Targaryens?”

Sansa shook her head, letting Baelish feel in control.

Baelish’s smile grew as his eyes wandered over her. “Well, I believe it is best that we bend the knee. There is no point fighting dragons and I believe they will be more than accommodating towards us. Though there is an issue.”

Sansa feigned confusion. “What issue do you see Petyr?”

She placed her hands onto his. He didn’t move away. Not that I expected him to. Even if he disgusts me so.

“I suppose it is to do with you. The Targaryens will see your widowed status and seek to marry you to one of their own as a way of securing the regency through you as well as an heir to the North. I doubt they would give you much grace period in haste to secure their reign.”

Sansa nodded sadly. “I was hoping I would have more time to process the loss. And more time to secure the Vale.”

Petyr moved his hands to wrap around hers. It felt vile as he started to move himself closer. She could bare it though for now.

“I know. The Targaryens have hastened that possibility. Though I have a solution.”

His eyes tried to look predatory for a moment. Sansa didn’t think it had worked. She’d seen a true predator’s eyes.

“And what is that Petyr?” Sansa asked tentatively. His fingers were dancing over her hands like a spider. She made her eyes flutter ever so slightly. Cersei’s words were echoing through her. A woman’s weapon.

“I am a Lord of high standing and well known by the Vale. I am also well known to you. We could marry and secure our titles from them.”

And then he kissed her. Much like he did in the Vale. It felt as disgusting as then as he placed his hands towards her hips and motioning for her to come up from the chair. She could feel him trying to guide her towards the bed as he kissed her. Every moment of it was disgusting as Sansa feigned interest in the Vile man, just like she had with Arryn. I just have to wait.

Sansa felt herself pushed onto the bed as Littlefinger started to disrobe himself. She could see a giant scar from his navel to shoulder. A gift from her Uncle Brandon. He was starting to do the same, lifting the frills of her dress and unfastening a part her smallclothes. Sansa could see the lust in his eyes as he made another kiss before whispering into her ear.

“So much like your mother yet so much better as well.”

His voice sounded like sandpaper as he unfastened his breeches with one hand. He had made her dress dishevelled as touched her and fondled with the other. Then Sansa heard the footsteps she had been waiting for. She hoped it was Brienne and not a servant. I’ve used my weapon long enough; I won’t have him touch me further. I won’t have him enter me like he wants.

Sansa screamed her lungs out. As loud as she could for everyone in the walls of Riverrun to hear it. Littlefinger looked surprised and annoyed at her as he made to disrobe her more and putting his hand over her mouth. It was too late for that though as Brienne barged through the door, Uncle Brynden in tow with The Vale and Riverlords behind to witness it. There was no hiding what he was trying to do. No way to try and worm his way out of it. Sansa could see the faces of angry lords. Before Baelish could try and speak Brienne had brutally gelded him with Oath Keeper. He screamed hard before Brienne hammered the Pommel of her sword into Littlefinger’s head, sending his bleeding, unconscious body to the floor.

Sansa could feel the hands of her Uncle and Brienne as they asked if she was well. Sansa dried her tears as guards dragged Littlefinger’s unconscious form off. She wanted to smile like a wolf. Instead, she spoke of how Littlefinger tried to have his way with the Lady of The Vale with the voice of a bird.

There was no refuting what Littlefinger had tried to do to the widowed Lady of the Vale. Too many Vale and Riverlords had seen it. Too many of those indebted to Littlefinger saw it as a way out of their debts. And too many hated him. The Lord of the Fingers was trapped. He was easy prey for Sansa and she loved it. How I look forward to Brienne taking your head. Littlefinger’s only option was a Trial by Combat if he wanted to try and avoid execution. But the likes of Brienne, Brynden Tully and Yohn Royce made his chances of victory impossible, with nobody willing to defend him as a champion.

But of course, Littlefinger had one friend with Lyn Corbray attempting an escape from Riverrun. Lyn and his smashed face had managed to make their way out of the Tully home quietly. But it had went wrong they made it through the camp. Lyn Corbray had met his end trying to escape through a sparser part of the camp where the Elder brother and some his followers were. Corbray and Littlefinger must have been surprised to be stopped by a Gravedigger. She knew that much when Sansa had seen his head being brought back in one of the Gravedigger’s hands, and the snivelling Littlefinger in the other. It made quite a sight when he presented both the head and Littlefinger to her in front of the Vale and Riverlords.

Sansa had enjoyed the sight, smiling briefly as she noticed the burn marks hidden by his hood. And now I have two loyal knights in my service, even though neither are called that. The Elder brother had been kind enough to explain that the Gravedigger had taken a vow of silence for a time and that he wished to remain hooded. A show that everyone was the same in the eyes of the Gods. It was hard to argue with a man of the faith, so they couldn’t really say anything if they thought they had figured out his identity. It wouldn’t matter though. Sansa would just pardon Sandor for any slights the Vale or Riverlords felt they had with him. There was none that he was directly a part of as far as she could know. And he’s hastened the end for Littlefinger.

His execution had been brought ahead earlier after the escape. It was starting to snow lightly in the Riverlands now as the Tully guards brought him into the Courtyard. He was snivelling and crying. Sansa had found it funny. The man that wanted to be her father and so much more was a pale imitation of a man, crying and begging despite all that he had done. Her father had never done that in the face of death. He was innocent and still didn’t flinch when Joffrey declared he would die. Sansa knew that it would be good to see Brienne take his head with a part of Father’s sword.

Sansa looked coldly at Littlefinger as he snivelled on his knees. “Lord Baelish, you are stood accused and found guilty of attempting to harm and rape the Lady of The Vale. Do you demand a Trial by Combat?”

Littlefinger started to beg. “Please Lady Sansa! You know I’ve always cared for you, protected you and loved you! Please don’t do this, you need me!”

Sansa looked at him with an empty stare, “Are those your final words?”

Littlefinger kept blubbering as one of the guards brought him to the block. Sansa nodded at Brienne, taking her place and unsheathing Oath Keeper.

“I, Lady Sansa Arryn, Regent of the Vale, sentence you to die.”

Sansa managed to project her voice over the wails of Littlefinger as she said the words. Then oath Keeper swung cleanly through the Former Lord Protector’s head. Littlefinger was a scrawny man, making it a quick job. His head hit the floor in a face mixed with pain and fear. Sansa stared at master of coin for a moment before walking off, a small smile curving onto her lips. He was a small titan in the end.

Hope you all enjoyed! I wanted Littlefinger's death tae be done by Sansa, not sure how they're gonnae dae it in the books so I just went wae the idea that Sansa has used cersei and littlefinger's words tae her advantage. And she secures power through raising the bastard daughters as Arryns and acts as regent. Felt like it was a plausible solution.

We'll be returning tae the North next chapter, specifically beyond the wall which should be quite interesting. We'll be back in the North fir a few chapters before going South again.

Any questions feel free tae ask!

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Happy new year 2025 wishes everyone!

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 21: Lost Secrets

Hope you all enjoyed it! Feel free tae comment as always! Dissertation is finished btw!

And on a Game of Thrones note, I'm feeling very justified in regards tae Daenerys.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Meera

Fear had overwhelmed Meera as she frantically pulled Bran’s sledge through the cold snows beyond the wall, wights running behind them in force through the trees. Terror consumed her every time she had to slash at one of them with a lit torch. The prospect of dying by them was much more harrowing in Meera’s eyes. The thought of dying after all the tragedies that had befallen them in the cave. Jojen, Summer and Hodor had died. Jojen, weak and broken, barely lucid. Summer, ripped apart by Wights. How he whined as he tore into a Wight with his last breaths. And Hodor she hadn’t seen fall, only seeing his face clawed through the door he held valiantly. His screams echoing as she ran until there was nothing. Even the Children had died. Though she felt less pity for them, even if they had been deceived by Blood Raven. He’d deceived them all, letting them think he was the three eyed crow. How wrong they’d all been.

Blood Raven had betrayed the Three Eyed Crow when he first met his predecessor. After learning all there was to know of his green seeing abilities, he had abandoned The Three Eyed Crow’s duties, using Valyrian Blood Magic to avoid the fate, having more eyes than he ever did as Hand of the King. That was what Bran had seen with his own Green Sight. The fate of the last Three Eyed Crow to Blood Raven, suffering a worse fate than any before him. What they planned on doing to Jojen. From that point it had led to chaos. Whatever was happening between Bran and Blood Raven in the Green Sight had led to the Others coming. And from that point on there was only death and blood. Meera had lost everyone in a single swoop.

And Bran most of all.

His body lived but Bran was gone. There was only the Three Eyed Crow now. That was the sacrifice that Blood Raven avoided, taking all of the knowledge that came from it but taking none of the burden and duty. Bran had done it though. He’d died a Stark, doing what was right for the North, even if it took him from her, and her from him. She just had to hope she would live to protect the Three Eyed Crow. No matter how tired she was.

I just have to keep running. Meera thought as she ran through the snow, legs becoming heavier at every step. Her flight ended once she realised that there were Wights in front of her, behind her and to her sides. Meera was surrounded. I will be brave, even when afraid. Meera thought to herself as she held her spear and sconce. Her Father had told her those words. Words he had told Ned Stark once.

Meera didn’t give the Wights a chance as she rammed her spear into one of the Wights, lighting it aflame with the sconce before repeating with the next, jabbing at them both as much as possible until they stayed dead before trying with the other Wights as they began to storm her. She held her ground as much as possible, stabbing and burning them. Keeping them away from Bran. To her horror she heard thuds of hooves. Only the Others rode anything. Meera started to stab more violently, hoping to make a route of escape. But that was failing. There were too many and she could barely guard the Three Eyed Crow and herself. The hooves had got louder, two sets of them. One to her joy was an elk and the other a living horse. Cold Hands had come with an ally, both clad in back and wielding chains with flaming metal balls attached. The two figures clad in black stormed through the Wights. Fiery Iron slammed into the circling horde like a knife through butter, sending Wights into burning messes on the floor. Meera saw her opening and started to stab her way through, making a gap to push the sled through, bringing the Three Eyed Crow to safety whilst her allies continued burning the dead. It had taken time but the screams of the Wights had finally abated, leaving only the howling wind and the beats of hooves.

Cold Hands didn’t give Meera any time to give thanks, simply grabbing her in one swoop, placing her on the Elk with him. The Other rider had done the same with Bran. The two then started a gallop as Meera held on. Tiredness bringing her to sleep.

Meera woke to the smell of fire and cooked rabbit. It was a nice smell in harshness that was winter beyond the wall. She stirred from the dry spot she had been placed in. Meera quickly looked for Bran. Three Eyed Crow. Meera reminded herself sadly. He was sat opposite her, eyes glazed over in his Green Sight. Either that or he had skin changed. She hoped it was the latter. That was something Bran enjoyed. Sitting around the fire was Cold Hands and another man. Only the man was eating, clearly hungry. Cold Hands looked to her in his masked face and nodded.

“You did well to survive as long as you did.” He said simply.

Meera nodded mutely as she joined the two to eat something before speaking.

“Where were you when they came?” She asked.

Cold hands looked at her, pieces of his deadened face showing through the scarf. “Scouting the Others. They’ve been moving more now that Winter is here.”

“Easier for them to move South now that it’s colder.” The other man said.

His accent’s northern. Meera realised immediately.

“Did you know about Blood Raven?” Meera asked.

Cold Hands went to answer but The Three Eyed Crow answered, not even leaving his trance. “He didn’t.”

Meera felt tears drip at the lack of emotion in his voice. Bran was truly dead. The other man’s shoulders slumped.

“I was as fooled as everyone else. He was clever at making his summons seem like the Crow’s.” Cold Hands said darkly.

“Maybe eating the last one allowed that.” Meera muttered in the same dark tone.

There was a silence before the Northmen spoke. Looking closely, she could see grey eyes and a long, scarred face. His hair was dark in most places, but there were patches of white. His features screamed of a Stark like in Father’s descriptions of Ned. He’s too old to be Jon.

“Benjen Stark?” Meera asked quietly.

Benjen nodded. “Aye, that I am. You’re the first human company I’ve had for a long time. Even if it means one of my nephews is lost to the Crow.”

Meera could hear the pain there as he spoke. He wasn’t happy either about Bran’s death. There was another silence before Cold Hands spoke again.

“I’ll be taking you to the Wall and Benjen will take you through it. The magics of the wall will keep you protected. Here is no longer a home for the living.”

“We’ll ride soon and hopefully we’ll be able to get help from my brother.” Benjen said hopefully.

Meera’s heart broke at the words. He doesn’t know about him.

“Ned Stark is dead Benjen. It is Jon we will be speaking with. He needs to know everything.” The Three Eyed Crow said with an empty voice.

A voice dulled by the knowledge of a thousand generations. Meera felt herself weep as Benjen Stark’s face dropped.

Wylis Manderly

Wylis had never thought he would be on Skagos in his life. He’d never thought to ever be working with the Skagosi. The Blood of the First Men that had been called savages and cannibals by the First Men of the North. But times were changing. Winter was here, the dead were coming and the Skagosi had turned out to be loyal to House Stark. Protecting Rickon Stark and then storming the Dreadfort had shown they were Northmen. A harsh and blunt lot, much like him and his fellow mainlanders. Wylis was just thankful that they weren’t Cannibals.

Father had tasked him with helping to retrieve the Dragon Glass, shipping it from Skagos to the mainland where it was to become weapons. He had loved the task from the start. It had given him the freedom to sail on ships and feel the air on him. Something he had truly missed as a hostage. Something Wendel will never feel again, Wylis thought sadly as he watched the crates go onto the Galley. This was all that was left that could be found on the island. Wylis had been told by the Crowl that there was more. Located in a cave within the Volcano. But he had been told not to go. Cannibal’s Cave.

Thought of the name made him shudder. Wylis had been foolish enough in the beginning to have a look at the cave with a few men, to see whether a large force could wipe them out so they could get more. He had been more foolish when the cave didn’t look like it had been entered in years. It had made him think that the Cannibals must have eaten each other by this point. Wylis had sent for a few more men and then they entered the cave. They had found more bones than Wylis had seen in his life. And burn marks on the wall. He had thought it was from cooking until he heard the almighty roar and the screams of three of his men. Wylis had barely seen them vanish into whatever it was. For a brief moment he saw bright yellow eyes. Wild eyes almost like the Stark wolves. Then he felt heat enter the cave and flames starting to hit one of the caverns. Him and his men ran a fast as they could before they could burn. All the way to the outside. Wylis had lost five men to Cannibal’s cave and had more than earnt the scolding from the Crowl.

It had been enough to make him settle for the Dragon Glass they could find on the island. It would be more than enough. And I don’t want to see those yellow eyes again. The eyes of something that might only be described as a monster.

Hope you all enjoyed!

More info on the others and three eyed raven will come. Same fir Benjen. In this him and cold hands are different people. Meera and Bran were a thing btw but Bran actually becomes the three eyed raven unlike blood raven who cheats it. You will learn what his agenda was too.

And Wylis has found Cannibal.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 22: Honour

Hope you all enjoy! Feel free tae comment as always!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Ser Barristan

The City was once again under the control of House Targaryen, taken with a lot of blood. Thankfully no dragon fire had been used. Military might and the surrender of the Lannister forces had taken away the need for the dragons, leaving them to simply soar over the city. That did not mean there had been problems. The city was damaged heavily, both from Cersei destroying the Sept and from their own forces. He’d also had to contend with the looters and rapers. Barristan had worked hard in the battle to stop anyone from taking the liberties that the Lannisters had done in the sack of King’s Landing. Especially in the case of the Dothraki. They may be loyal to Daenerys but it did not stop their ways. He’d killed his fair share of them when he saw them attack the city-folk as was his duty as a knight. The Lannister Twins had also died before Daenerys could get her hands on them, annoying his Queen. Cersei strangled and Jamie killing himself after the fact. Barristan didn’t know what to make of the sight, marking almost a repeat in history. All he knew was that the Lannister reign had ended and the realm was ruled by dragons again.

Sadly, it is never that simple. That was a lesson that Ser Barristan had slowly over the years. The wedding between the two Targaryens hadn’t taken away the factions and their tensions. There were still Kingdoms that needed to be brought into the fold. And Winter was here and supplies were needed. Barristan was learning that lesson all the more, especially when he had seen a lad called Gendry, newly knighted by Lord Edric Dayne and the spitting image of King Robert Baratheon. The sight of him had left a bad feeling in his gut, remembering what had happened to the rest of Robert Baratheon’s bastards. Would my monarchs allow him to live if they were informed of him? Barristan hadn’t pondered the question, instead he had just acted on an instinct and decided to get the boy out of the city as quickly as possible. I owe it to his Father; a King I had failed. And I owe it as a knight to protect the innocent. Barristan had thought when he approached Lord Dayne a subtly as possible to avoid Varys and his cursed whisperers. Edric had been unaware of who Gendry’s father was, but the young Lord clearly considered him a friend. The two had apparently been a part of the brotherhood without banners before leaving when Lord Dondarrion had died. Barristan and Edric had sent a few men with Gendry, taking him to Starfall where nobody would expect a Baratheon bastard to be.

Barristan hadn’t been caught as far as he was aware, still maintaining his position, guarding Aegon and Daenerys, the two giving the appearance of a happily married couple as they entered the small council chambers. Both of them want to rule alone, the other is just a means of getting an heir to the throne. Barristan thought sadly as the two made their seats at the head of the table. The Small Council was made up of both factions, made more evident by them sitting on opposing sides. To Aegon’s left, there was Varys as Master of Whispers, Randyll Tarly as Master of Laws, Harry Strickland as the Master of Coin and Jon Connington as the hand of the King. Many have already called Aegon King despite plans for being Prince-consort. It was inevitable the moment he rode Rhaegal. To Daenerys’ right, there was Tyrion Lannister as Hand of the Queen, Victarion Greyjoy as Master of Ships and Garlan Tyrell as an ambassador for Willas Tyrell. They weren’t the only ones at the table, with Arianne Martell among them, a Khal of the Dothraki, Jorah Mormont, Greyworm of the Unsullied and the Lady Missandei.

“Your Graces” The Council said in unison with their heads bowing. Daenerys and Aegon seemed pleased as they looked at them.

“What news of my realm?” Daenerys asked first.

And now the bickering begins.

“Now that the capital has been taken and your wedding held, there are many things that need to do to secure your reign.” Randyll Tarly stated bluntly, looking more to Aegon than Daenerys.

“Lord Tarly is right. We have many things that need to be put right. The Crown’s finances among them.” Harry Strickland agreed.

Daenerys looked unimpressed with that. “And what financial problems do we have? We have only just arrived and the wedding’s expense were not grand.”

Harry Strickland shook his head. “I’m afraid that is not true. Damages done to the city in the battle will cost money and more importantly we are heavily in debt to the Iron Bank. Six Million Dragons at this point.”

“That debt was due to the Lannisters and Baratheons. A debt I have had no part in.” Daenerys said forcefully.

“I’m afraid we do my wife. Those debts were made to the Crown. The Iron Bank is not foolish enough to make deals solely with the house that sits on the throne.” Aegon said calmly to her.

“I’m sure they will wipe that debt should they see my dragons.” Daenerys responded simply.

“Even Aegon the Conqueror knew to fear the Iron Bank Your Grace and he had dragons. Your father did as well. It would be wise to figure out a way to pay them, lest they decide to fund someone else to take the throne.” Varys said softly.

Wise words. The Iron Bank always gets what it is owed, regardless of dragons. Barristan thought as he listened to the conversation.

“I’m sure in time we will be able to find an adequate solution. Perhaps we should move onto something else?” Tyrion suggested.

Aegon smiled, “I believe that’s an excellent idea. Personally, I believe those debts will be impossible to pay if we have not got a working small-folk. How many supplies do we have for our people and armies?”

“Yes, with the presence of the Dothraki and Unsullied, we’ll need ample supplies to keep them fed.” Daenerys agreed.

A little bit late to be asking that question now that Winter is here. It should have been considered before invading. Barristan noted.

“The Reach should have ample food to supply us Your Graces. House Tyrell will gladly be able to supply both our own Kingdom the City and the armies. As well as supplementing other kingdoms if necessary.” Garlan said confidently, looking at Daenerys.

Barristan noticed a scowl on Tarly’s face. “The Reach may do it Lord Garlan as long as we are assured that the Dothraki horde is kept as far away from our lands as possible. I’ve seen how they acted in the taking of the city and in the encampment. I won’t be feeding or housing them, much like other Reach Houses won’t.”

“Last I remembered Tarly, you were my brother’s bannerman, and my father’s before you abandoned him. You’ll do as House Tyrell and the Crown asks.” Garlan said harshly.

There was a mumbling among the group as the two Reach Lords glared at each other. It was ended by Daenerys.

“The Dothraki are a part of the realm Tarly. The Reach will provide its grain in full for my forces as well as the city.”

Her words were blunt and final, sending the room to a silence before Aegon interjected.

“Lord Tarly, I assure you that the Dothraki will be kept from your lands. I won’t have a loyal bannerman harmed. The Dothraki will be kept within the Crownlands for the time being. The Lannisters have left many abandoned lands in this region that should be able to house them for the time being.”

“And they won’t be settling for some time yet. There are other Kingdoms that have yet to submit to their rightful Queen.” Daenerys added.

“You currently have the Stormlands, Crownlands, Iron Islands, Dorne and the Reach under your command. There is only the Vale, Riverlands and the North that have yet to return to the fold.” Jon said with distaste at the rebelling Kingdoms.

“Our last reports tell us that the Vale and Riverlords were at Riverrun. I believe they may have been planning on attacking the city before our arrival.” Tyrion offered.

“Was it to take it for themselves like last time?” Daenerys asked coldly.

“Most likely to fight my sister.” Tyrion replied. “They had just as many reasons to hate her as you do.”

“I imagine they will bend the knee your graces. They will be a formidable force but won’t fight most of the realm, or dragons for that matter.” Tarly stated.

“They were disloyal once. I will expect them to come south soon to ask for my forgiveness when they bend. And to swear loyalty in front of my dragons as well.” Daenerys said bluntly.

That’s one solution I suppose. Aegon used his dragons in a similar way. And Aerys with his wildfire. None of those Kingdoms will ever forget that, the North especially.

“And what of the North? I’m surprised they aren’t with their old allies.” Aegon asked the group.

“My little birds have heard nothing of the North since the message that was sent south by them. Maybe a rumour of a meeting with the Vale and Riverlands but nothing else.” Varys answered easily.

“They are the most direct in challenging us. By declaring the first King in the North since Torrhen, they disregard my claim to the throne. I won’t stand for that.” Daenerys said with an anger to her voice.

“I’m afraid they will be a problem for after winter. I would not advise a military conquest of the North in winter. Our armies would freeze and the North is too large to hold a supply line or navigate without help.” Tarly advised.

The man knew military matters. It was not something to argue with.

“My dragons will melt the snow if that’s what bothers you Lord Tarly.” Daenerys replied dryly.

“But we won’t be able to hold the North once those dragons return to the capital.” Tarly stated.

Daenerys glared at him.

“I’m not sure why we are speaking of this in truth. The North bent the knee to dragons once because they knew what they could do. They usurped my Father only because the Dragons were gone. Now that we are returned, they should remember that wisdom.”

She still won’t listen. Thought Barristan as he decided to do something that he had never done at a Small Council Meeting. Speak.

“With all do respect you Grace. I don’t believe the North has forgotten what the dragons can do. The North Remembers You Grace. That applies to both your dragons and what your father did to Rickard and Brandon Stark… and what Rhaegar did to Lyanna. They’ll remember that Ned Stark died wrongly by the hands of the South. I dare say that would incense them to fight regardless of dragon fire and the might of the South.”

The Small Council had all looked to him in silence. Some agreeing with him, others keeping their opinions masked. Daenerys didn’t seem to like his comment by the disapproving look.

“Then what can we do if they are unwilling to bend to wisdom?” Aegon asked, clearly flustered.

“We could starve them. Have every kingdom south of the neck deny them trade.” Strickland said.

“I could attack what ships they have, meagre as their navy will be.” Victarion said happily, almost puffing his chest with the Valyrian Steel armour he had acquired from his brother’s former ship.

“All excellent ideas but I may have a much simpler solution. We already have a hostage that could make the King in the North bend.” Varys said softly, everyone turning to him.

Barristan paled. He knows of Ashara.

“Who?” Aegon asked as he leaned forward.

Varys gave a sad look to Aegon. “The Septa Lemore Your Grace. I’m sorry to have not informed any of you but that is not her real name. She was once the Lady Ashara Dayne before joining with you. And she is also Jon Snow’s mother.”

You’re not sorry at all. Just another tool for you. Barristan thought angrily.

“Father told me that she killed herself.” Arianne muttered.

“No, she has remained a loyal retainer of Elia all these years. I had sent word that his grace lived and she came eager to serve. But a new name was necessary lest Robert’s spies and assassins found him through her name. Her being Jon Snow’s mother had never really been important, especially when he had gone to the wall.” Varys answered calmly.

“You don’t mean to threaten her death to get him to bend?” Aegon asked with a small waver in his voice.

“You might want to consider it Your Grace. She was the one who had advised us to treat with the Northmen when we were at Storm’s End. She could very well be a traitor now that her blood has a crown on his head.” Jon Connington said angrily.

“She’s been loyal to us for years Lord Connington.” Aegon said with a hint of doubt.

“We won’t kill her most likely. Death would take away our hostage. The threat of it will make him bend.” Varys said softly.

The words seemed to ease Aegon’s body, having tensed at the mention of it. Then Daenerys smiled at the council and spoke firmly before Aegon could speak.

“Send word to the bastard of Winterfell. Tell him to come South and Bend the Knee for his mother’s sake.”

Barristan almost stormed off from the meeting, instead holding his anger at the two Targaryens.

Ashara had not been happy when they had told her the situation. In true Dornish spirit she had shown her anger at the two for doing that to her despite her loyalty to Aegon for so long. She’d shown her annoyance that her house stood idly by as House Targaryen commanded it. And she’d shown her rage when Daenerys called her son a usurper and an oath breaker. Ashara had been practically dragged out of the court as she made her scene in front of the Lords that were now aware of her being alive. Barristan hoped that the court would remember the day that Ashara Dayne almost managed to slap the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

The crown had put her under guard in her quarters. Ashara was no longer allowed out of her chambers without an escort. The guards at her door were currently unsullied and would be there for half the night before a changeover. Barristan made short work of them, cutting through them deftly with his sword. They weren’t effective outside of a formation. Barristan entered her chambers slowly, seeing the Dornish Woman drinking sadly from her cup. She looked beautiful even when she was miserable.

“My Lady.” He said, announcing his presence.

Ashara looked up and stood with giving a bitter smile. He could see the “Are you to be my guard for the night?”

Barristan shook his head. “No, I am to be one of your rescuers. I’ve booked you onto a ship to Gull town. A group of your nephew’s men will escort you. From there I advise you go to the North.”

Ashara’s face softened and her eyes turning confused. “You’re defying your King and Queen?”

Barristan sighed. He’d mulled this over in his head ever since the small council meeting. He knew well enough that he was disobeying his oaths as a King’s guard.

“Do you know how many monarchs I have served my Lady?”

Ashara shook her head.

“I’ve served five. And none of them have been particularly special, yet I served them all dutifully, even the ones the sit the throne now. But I am also a knight and will not stand idly be while an innocent suffers. Especially when that is you. This is a choice I will make gladly for you.”

Barristan felt her softness as she hugged him and kissed his cheek then a one to the lips. Barristan felt his face warm for the first time in years.

“You always have been Bold, even before you were a knight.” She said sweetly with tears. Her breath still on his lips even as she parted.

Barristan nodded wordlessly, surprised at her actions before bringing the dead guards into the chamber. In another life if we had met before my oaths.

Escorting Ashara through the keep was a relatively easy feat. His position as a King’s Guard had allowed him complete access to the keep without being bothered. Nobody questioned him or who the woman was, face hidden by her scarf. They’d made their way out of the city and two the docks where Edric Dayne awaited with the guards that would escort her.

“Thank you, Ser Barristan, for bringing my aunt here.” He said kindly as his aunt hugged him. The first time since his birth I imagine

“It was my pleasure.” Ser Barristan said in return.

Lord Dayne nodded. “The galley will leave shortly along with others. Most are Dornish heading to bring supplies. This ship should go undetected among them.”

“Thank you Edric. I am sorry I spoke harshly of you in the court. Though I want to scold you for meeting us here.” Ashara said with a wry smile.

Gods it is nice to hear your words even if it is for a short time.

“I wanted to see my aunt properly at least once. I also wanted you to give a message on my behalf for my cousin. I’d like him to know he has friends and family in Dorne, should we ever be lucky enough to meet in peace.”

He handed her a scroll. Ashara smiled as she grabbed it before hugging him once more. “I will, now I suggest you go before anyone realises what you’ve been up to.”

Edric returned the hug before walking away from them, keeping himself hidden in his blackened clothes, leaving himself, the guards and Ashara Dayne.

“I believe it is time I say goodbye my Lady.” Barristan said sadly.

“You’re staying? What if Varys finds out?” Ashara asked worriedly.

“He would find you quicker if I were with you. And I would rather give you plenty of time to make an escape.” Barristan said, placing an arm to her shoulder as comfort.

“You’re going to let them know it was you!” She almost shouted into the night.

Barristan couldn’t help but admire her temper. “Yes, my Lady. The second shift of guards will arrive at your chambers shortly. I intend to take the trail away from you.”

Ashara looked displeased with his plan. Barristan decided to do something bold as he kissed her. Something I should have done in younger years.

As he parted from her, he smiled. “I wish you luck my lady. And your son as well.”

He walked away proudly, knowing he’d done the right thing. I’ve served more than enough Kings. I believe it is only right I die for someone better than them.

Jon Connington

The alarm bells had started ringing and one of the guards had reported that Ser Barristan Selmy had released Ashara Dayne. The words made him angry. He betrayed Rhaegar for Robert once and now he betrays us for the bastard wolf’s mother. Jon was furious as he joined the escort of guards taking him to the chambers where Selmy was reportedly fighting. Upon his arrival he was met with a bloody sight. The mixture of Dothraki, Unsullied and Reachmen were being slaughtered in the corridor by a single knight. Barristan’s white beard and hair were being covered with blood as he effortless cut through the guards, protecting the doorway to Ashara’s chambers. His white cloak had fallen to the floor, covered in blood.

Connington roared angrily as he rushed in to join the fight. “Traitor!!!!”

Ser Barristan didn’t look perturbed by the words as he effortless parried one man and then killed him and another in quick succession before meeting Connington’s blade. He could feel the power behind the blade as it pushed him back onto the floor so Barristan could deal with someone else. Barristan killed a Dothraki after cutting the man’s wrist off.

That annoyed Connington as he moved in on Selmy, slashing and stabbing as much as possible. Selmy avoided them all effortlessly, once again pushing him back onto the floor to deal with someone else. As Jon fell onto the floor, he saw another three men drop. This time Dothraki. The bodies were quickly piling up with terrified faces etched to them. The guards were running to get more fighters. They were all afraid of him, even the Dothraki.

“I am not afraid of Barristan the Old!”

Jon rose angrily, once again meeting Barristan’s blade. This time he met him properly, going for attacks instead of simply pushing him away. Barristan’s face was stoic as he ruthlessly bombarded Jon. Connington was barely able to block the onslaught of attacks as Selmy attacked relentlessly. Jon made an attempt at sidestepping Barristan so he could strike but it was met with another parry and a counterthrust. The thrust hit him in the chest. And the second one cut him at the neck. Connington dropped to the floor, hands grabbing his throat to prevent the blood from leaving him. It wasn’t working. Not while this traitor lives. Jon thought as the blood spattered out.

As his eyes started to fade, he watched the fight continue to unfold. Barristan Selmy gradually growing more tired as the guards piled up. He had felled another ten before the Unsullied guards arrived, forming a spear formation. Connington held on long enough to see the spears finally make their mark, impaling him before a Dothraki took his head. Connington’s eyes darkened as the guards failed to treat him and others shouting that Ashara was gone. I got your son to his place Rhaegar. I hope you aren’t disappointed that I couldn’t do more when we meet. He smiled at the thought of meeting the silver prince as he died and knowing that Barristan would suffer in the Seven Hells as a traitor and oath breaker.

Hope you all enjoyed! I felt this chapter fit better here than later. Especially because we are going tae be in the north fir 3 chapters so it is necessary tae see the aftermath of taking King's Landing.

Fir anyone who thinks Barristan is out of character. It is implied in the books that he did love ashara so this event was enough to break the camel's back. That and he is the symbol of Knighthood in the books. Will do what is right for the innocent.

And the marriage between aegon and daenerys has happened but it hasnae ended the factions within their allies.

Any questions, feel free tae ask

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 23: The Pack Prepares

Hope you all enjoy! Feel Free tae comment as always!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Jon

Returning to Winterfell with his sister was something that Jon had never been happier to do. It had seemed to lift her spirits being in the Walls of Winterfell again with him, Rickon and the wolves. Jon knew her mother in that state would never leave her but seeing her no longer grief stricken like she was at Moat Cailin was something he was more than glad for. I will never forgive that thing for what she made my sister do. Jon had thought to himself as he held her on that day. He’d made his peace with Lady Catelyn in death but her actions, whether it be hers or whatever emerged from her resurrection, was unforgiveable in Jon’s eyes. Jon had buried Harwin and the Northmen she had killed in the Lich yard of Winterfell. A place for those loyal to Winterfell. May they rest and never be brought back like that monster.

The thought of monsters was something Jon’s focus had returned to. With the problems to the South dealt with for the foreseeable future, there was only the threat North of the Wall to deal with. Word had come of Hard Home that the Others had been spotted. The Watch and some of the Free-Folk had managed to get about 10,000 people, mostly women and children, before the place was starting to get overrun. The thought of more turned to Wights was worrying but Jon was glad he’d managed to get as many of the free-folk in the North. News from Hard Home had made the preparations all the more valuable. Dragon Glass from Skagos had all arrived and the supplies from the East were steadily entering the North. Pitch and tar were being made in bulk and arrows for the archers. The Wall would be well manned and defended. Jon knew that with his forces, reaching almost 50,000, mixed between the Houses of the Mainland, Skagosi, Free-Folk and Giants. It gave him hope that they could beat them back.

And hopefully Sam will have more knowledge. His brother of the watch had returned with Gilly and Val’s nephew. He had seemed confident upon his arrival and Jon hoped that whatever he had found would be useful as the two sat in his solar. His friend looked much the same, albeit more relaxed. His nerves seemed less frayed than they were on the wall. He could take a guess why.

“I see time away from the wall with Gilly has done you good Sam.” Jon said with a slightly knowing look.

Sam reddened at his words before raising his eyebrows at him. “I suppose it has for you as well, King in the North and bedding a woman that had once threatened to kill anyone who came close to her.”

Jon started to laugh, his friend joining him.

“It’s good to have you back in the North Sam.” Jon said happily.

“Aside from the dead coming for us and the fact that it is freezing. So am I.” Sam said lightly.

Jon smirked before turning to a more serious topic. “What did you find then?”

Sam smiled. “Lots of things despite the fact that most of the Maesters weren’t exactly helpful. I had to steal most of the books I brought with me or I would have to wait until I was Maester Aemon’s age before even seeing them.”

Jon grinned at the thought of his friend stealing. His friend had grown in courage over the years. There was no denying that. Self-Confessed Craven my arse.

“But once I got a hold of them, and correctly translated half of the scrolls, it was much easier to get use out of the Citadel’s knowledge. You have no idea how lazy there are. Half of it has been untouched for centuries at least. It is a complete waste.”

Jon took a small drink before cutting his friend off as he rambled about the problems with the Maesters. “Sam, besides terrible Maesters, what did you find?”

Sam nodded at him. “Sorry Jon. You just have no idea what they’re like. But anyway. On a practical level I know how to refine obsidian so it is less brittle.”

Jon smiled. “I’m sure the men will appreciate that. It isn’t the most durable of weapons. So will the blacksmiths.”

“I also know how to make an oil which will burn longer. Not as dangerous as wildfire but it will continue to burn on the arrow for longer. I imagine it might be good for keeping everyone warm for longer in winter.”

Sam went on for some time, going through the solutions that he would have put in place. It didn’t surprise him that his friend had found so much. He’s not one to do things by half measures.

His friend kept going before speaking about something slightly different.

“I also found some things on the first long night.”

Jon could see the excitement on Sam’s face. “Something more than the tales tell of how they were beat?”

Sam hesitated, taking a breath before beginning a speech. “Surprisingly yes. Sort of at least. The citadel came to be when the Andals invaded but they had managed to gather some useful documents in their founding about the first men. It wasn’t much but the sources all speak of a pact.”

“You mean the pact with the children?” Jon asked, remembering Old Nan’s stories. Maybe Sam should speak to her for more knowledge.

Sam shook his head. “No, the runes and scrolls I found discuss the pact to beat the others in detail and that pact is always during or before the Long Night, depending on the source. It is never the ending point in these runes. The pact that ends it is much further along in the telling, and that is much vaguer. Lost to translations most likely… or they didn’t like how we won.”

“Did it say who we made the pact with?”

Sam shook his head again but his face remained excited. “Not exactly but I’ve been able to make a guess from how the tales are written. I think the first men made a pact with the others.”

“You think the first men made a pact with the others.” Jon said, unable to hide his shock.

Sam nodded, face turning more serious. “I do. It would explain why they are still here and not gone. We treated with them and made peace somehow.”

“They haven’t given us any options to treat so far.” Jon said darkly.

“You’re right but if I’m right there must have been something that forced them into it.” Sam said, clearly musing on it.

Jon sighed and took a drink. An enemy that doesn’t sleep, eat or drink. An enemy that kills indiscriminately. How do you treat with it?

“I’ll have you speak with Old Nan. She knows many old tales. And speak with as many Northmen as you can. We’ve grown up around the runes that cover the North’s stones. One of them might have read something once that has more to it.” Jon offered hopefully.

Sam seemed excited by the prospect of conversation. He could tell as his smile grew at the thought.

“I imagine I’ll have to wait until after your wedding though. I don’t think any of the North will sit and talk runes with me.”

Jon chuckled. “No, but us Northmen like a good tale when we drink. I’m sure you’ll find things of interest besides a brawl between the Great Jon and Tormund.”

Sam blanched at the thought before smiling. “We’ve come along way from the wall.”

“Aye, that we have. All the more reason to win when the war comes for us.”

And I will. Brandon the Breaker did it. And I will too.

Arya

The wedding was a short one in the Godswood of Winterfell as all Northern weddings were. But it was still a special one. The wedding of Jon and Val was the first Stark wedding to be held in the North since her Grandfather. Something the Northern Bannermen had been pleased with as they gathered around the Heart Tree. It also cemented Val’s place as Queen in the North and a member of House Stark. From what she’d been told by Val, she’d already stolen him by free-folk tradition but Jon had insisted on the wedding in front of the Heart Tree to make her position undisputed by any.

Arya looked happily as the two kissed deeply in front of the Heart Tree. It was quite the sight, the King and Queen in the North, surrounded by Direwolves, snow and the blood of the First Men. The sight was met with applause before a call for the wedding feast. It would most likely be the last one until after the fight against the others. The armies of the First Men would be marching for the wall when the Night’s watch called for them. Jon felt like that would be soon. The distance from Hard Home to the wall was long but the dead didn’t sleep. “All the more reason for the North to celebrate.” Arya had said to him.

And the North was celebrating. That much she could see as she looked around the hall. The Mountain Clans were drinking with the Glovers. Laurence Snow, now Hornwood, was stuck in a dance with the Lady Alsyane Mormont. Great Jon Umber had got into a drinking competition with the Skagosi as they told tales of their adventures until they were interrupted by Maege Mormont and Tormund, clearly planning on wiping the floor with the lot of them. Both in drink and tales. The two had tough ones to beat, being part of the group that had robbed from the Lannisters. Arya hadn’t believed it until she’d seen the golden armours. Umber looked eager for the challenge, clearly wanting to prove he could hold his own better than the wildling as he glared at him. Arya wasn’t the only one watching the scene unfold as she noticed Lyanna Mormont scowling at her mother and newly revealed father. That scowl would have broken Septa Mordane.

Arya smiled at the thought of it as she looked at the Mormont, sitting with the other Lords’ children and heirs. Rickon Stark among them.

“It’s good to see the young Prince with people. There was a time when it was just me and the wolf he would talk to.” Osha said as she walked up towards her.

Arya could only agree with that as she looked at her brother and young pack of his own. It was made up of Gawen Glover, Ned Umber, Tormund’s son Dryn and daughter Lyanna Mormont, Sons and daughters of the Skagosi Lords and the Princess Shireen and Devan Seaworth. It made quite the group.

“He’s got something lost from the war.” Arya said with a smile.

“It might keep him sane when you and your brother both have to go to war.” Osha bluntly said.

Arya nodded. “He won’t like it still when that day comes.”

She’d been home enough to know Rickon had a temper. He’d been away from his family a long time. He had gained the Wolfblood in droves and had been unchecked. Though Jon had been doing well to focus it in their sparring in the mornings, or at the very least tire him out for the day’s duties. Arya had happily joined in that routine.

“And it’ll be me that will have to keep him from acting like a savage.” Osha sighed in mock annoyance.

Arya heard Jon laugh as he came over to them. He was giving them both a wolfish grin. He’s got that Wolfblood as well.

“You’ll have more than enough help. Val and Old Nan will keep him in line. If not, I’m sure the Lady Lyanna and Shireen will keep him from too much.”

Osha snorted as she walked to join some of the free-folk, leaving Arya with her brother.

“You’re leaving Val here when we eventually go North?” Arya asked.

Jon nodded. “Aye, one of us has to be at Winterfell when we march. I trust her to run the North and look after Rickon should the worst happen while we’re at the wall.”

“And you’re not going to try and convince me to stay here?” Arya asked teasingly.

Jon started to laugh again and ruffled her hair. “You’re too stubborn for that. Besides, you’re doing well learning what works best from everyone whose faced them. The war would be lost without you.”

“I’m glad you see it that way.” Arya said happily.

The two both smiled at each other until Jon looked at her seriously. “As much as I’d want to keep you from harm, I know that you’ll not want to be left behind.”

Arya hugged her brother. “I don’t want you to get hurt again either. I saw the knives at the wall. I won’t let it happen again.”

Jon nodded as they hugged. It was broken with a loud call from the Liddle. “I think it’s time for the bedding! See who dares strip the Queen in the North to her chambers!!

The chant was met with a cheer as a small group of men went towards Val. Arya expected a few to get a black eye in the process. To her amusement, it wasn’t Val that they would have to worry about, Ghost had joined the group. He was eyeing them wearily. It had forced them to only pick her up instead of the usual activities. Arya could see the satisfaction on Val’s face from ghost’s presence. She’s one of the wolves now.

Arya looked to Jon before he was carted off by the women, giving quick look to the wolf then with that wolfish smile. Arya grinned back as she realised what he’d done. He barely seems to leave when he changes into Ghost.

The two groups made their way of, with bawdy songs being sung and cheers for the King and Queen in the North. Arya smiled at the sight before looking to join Rickon. I’ll not let anyone hurt us Jon. I won’t have anyone threaten our pack.

Hope you all enjoyed it! Bit of a lighter chapter this time around. The next time we see Jon he will be back at the wall. The fight wae the others will be soon. Next chapter will be a Val one. Any questions fee free tae ask.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 24: A Fallen Star

Hope you all enjoy! Feel Free tae comment as always!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

A Fallen Star

Val

25,000 men had marched to the wall, two moons after her wedding to Jon when news came of his brother being found. Half of the army of the North would be fighting at the Wall. She would have gone with them if Jon hadn’t won that bet at the wedding feast. Fuck you Tormund, you had to pass out before Maege did from the drink. The Northern forces left behind would either be guarding the women and children; brought South to Winterfell and The Dreadfort. Or they were guarding the North from the South at Moat Cailin. And I’m charge of everyone not fighting at the wall. That was her job as the Queen in the North and the last defence in case it all went wrong. Something she wasn’t prepared for. Val could listen to problems and deal with feuds, something she had seen Mance do and had done herself when getting Tormund to treat with Jon. Val could even deal with the young Prince of Winterfell. But having to prepare food stocks, armies and run a castle. I have no clue. Those were things Val never expected to have to do in her life. He better live so I can slap him for making me his Queen. Val thought with a smirk as she walked the halls.

Her husband had been kind enough to make Jonelle Cerwyn, Jorelle Mormont, Wyman Manderly and Brandon Norrey as advisors for her among the Lords and Ladies that would be with her. Jonelle Cerwyn was meant to be the head of her kneeler house until her father had a son, making her handy for managing the food stocks. And Manderly had a penchant for the numbers whilst Mormont and Norrey were best suited for the armies. They were all things she was having to learn as she did the duties with them. It might not matter if we lose. Val thought darkly as she practiced reading through the stores book with Alys Karstark.

“Why do you kneelers do this to yourselves?” She asked in exasperated tone.

Alys laughed lightly at her frustration. “Sigorn has been the same while we were at Karhold. He was gladder than my brother was about no longer having to be Lord of Karhold.”

Val snorted and smirked. “Good. I’d have thought a Thenn would have had an easier job. They always loved to say how they had laws unlike the rest of us. Nice to know he’s suffering as much as me.”

Alys smiled. “You’re doing a fair job of it so far.”

Val smiled in appreciation. “Maybe. But I still prefer fighting for my own meals instead of managing everyone else’s.”

“Would you rather be fighting the Others?” Alys asked.

“I would. Much simpler. Either we win or we die. I’d rather be fighting.” Val said simply.

Alys looked at her with approving eyes. “A true Queen in the North then.”

“Jon best remember that when he comes back. I plan on letting him know he’s leaving me alone with all the shit again.” Val said with mirth.

The two began to laugh until she was summoned to the Hall to deal with petitioners. She sat in Jon’s seat with Rickon by her side for the day. Neither of them was particularly pleased having to do it, though they both needed to learn. I don’t like this but I can do it, I’m Queen now so best get used to it. Luckily for them both there weren’t many. And it was mainly to do with the influx of small folk and free folk families coming to Winterfell. Not too big a problem due to Winterfell apparently built for situations like this. It was mainly a few fights between families or an accusation of theft. Nothing too serious. The only real issue came from where to settle the giant clan whilst they were here instead of the gift. Two thousand Giant women and Children was a bit more of a challenge.

“Wintertown isn’t suited for the giants. The Streets aren’t large enough and we’re running out of space with the new longhouses being built.” Old Lord Locke said.

“Same for the moors around Winterfell. Our encampments and cattle will be disrupted by the mammoths.” Lord Manderly added.

“They helped take back Winterfell. There will be a place for them.” Rickon said with as much authority and strength a child could muster. He’s listening though. Jon will be happy with that.

“Are there any places near Winterfell where we can have them?” Val asked the Lords present.

Eddara Tallhart, Lady of Torrhen’s Square spoke up loudly. “The giants could encamp around Torrhen’s Square My Queen. We have large flat ground for the Mammoths despite the snows and they can settle outside and within my walls for the time being.”

Val smiled at the Lady of Torrhen’s Square. The woman still looked slender and meek after her time with the Squids but her voice was louder and bolder than it had been when Jon had found her. I wonder if she’s doing this a thank you. Or if she wants them there in case any Squids come back. The thought of Jon’s threat to the Squids still made her smile. A King of Winter indeed.

“We’ll have them at Torrhen’s Square then since it pleases The Tallhart. Thank you for the offer.” Val said in

Eddara bowed her head slightly before taking her seat with her two cousins. Val looked around the hall.

“Is there any other business that needs sorting?” Val asked the group.

The Lords, free-folk and small folk either shook their heads or remained silent.

“Then the petitions are over for the day” Val said simply.

She heard a few my Queens as the group bowed and slowly walked out of the room.

“That was long.” Rickon said with a yawn.

Val nodded in agreement. “I wish I could disagree with you Little Prince.”

“Jon says we have to do it though.” Rickon said sadly as he stroked Shaggy’s head, clearly missing his brother.

“And why is that?” Val asked, prompting the young Stark to remember what Jon had said to them.

“Because we’re Starks of Winterfell and we have to do what’s best for the North, even when he’s gone. Which is what Jon and Arya are doing too!” Rickon said with pride.

“Aye, very good. It also means you have your lessons next.” Val reminded him.

Rickon scowled instantly, his wolf starting to growl.

Val smirked. I know what will make you want to go. “Sorry Little Prince. But if you want to steal the Baratheon and Mormont girls one day, you’re going to have to do more than just fight well with a sword and your wolf.”

Rickon went red for a moment before nodding and running off with the giant Direwolf, joining with Brandon and Beron Tallhart as they left. Val laughed quietly to herself at the thought of her good brother attempting to steal the two women. He’ll be in for a challenge. Val thought happily as she left to go walk the walls. To feel the cool air after being stuck with the petitioners. The snows of the North fell almost constantly these days. I love it though, seeing us all continue living in spite of it being the Long Night come again. She could see that now as she watched work being done around Winterfell and Wintertown and different banners of the North covering the encampments. That was another thing she was learning, all the different sigils of the North. Val had done well so far, learning them as she marched to take back Winterfell and when the Lords convened. Though there were still some she had yet to commit to memory. Fucking Flints all having different banners because they’re all over the North. Val thought as she watched another banner that she didn’t recognise ride towards Winterfell’s gates with a Manderly escort. Purple background, pale sword and a falling star.

“That’s not a branch of the Karstarks is it?” Val asked Hallis Mollen, captain of the guard.

Hallis looked confused as he looked at the banners. “It isn’t a Northern Banner My Queen. It is House Dayne’s of Dorne. I haven’t seen that banner since the Trident.”

Val froze at the name. That’s Jon’s mother’s family banner.

The two were sitting in the warmest rooms of Winterfell. Some of the Northern Lords were also present. The Dornish Woman sitting before her had never been North and was shivering upon her arrival. A poor time to come North in Winter. But these were odd times and the woman before her was Ashara Dayne. The Mother to my husband. Her greeting to the North had been an unsure one, with Rickon and his wolf looking weary, as were the Northmen. Very few had contact with House Dayne outside of Robert’s Rebellion, when they were on opposing sides. And anything else had been rumours, turned to truth about Jon’s mother. The woman in question had also been unsure. She was expecting to see her son, not his wife.

The two women were sitting silently, both staring at each other. Val was surprised more than anything as she looked at Ashara Dayne. Val expected there may have been more similarities to her son. But the woman before her hadn’t left much of herself in Jon. Her long hair, haunting violet eyes, sun kissed skin and heart shaped face were nothing like Jon. The only similarities were the curls and slightly leaner frame. Other than that, she could see nothing.

“You don’t look like him.” Val stated bluntly.

Ashara smiled sadly. “He didn’t when he was born. A Stark through and through. I’m hoping I might see something of my brother in my son when I see him.”

“Why are you here?” Val asked. Why waste time?

“To see my son.” Ashara responded quickly.

“And?” Val asked forcefully. I’m the Queen in the North. I need to know if she’s a problem.

Ashara sighed. “I’m here for protection from House Targaryen. I was once in their service until they found out about being Jon’s mother. Barristan Selmy and my nephew rescued me.”

My Jon might have made peace with what Howland told him but he won’t be happy about this.

And the Northern Lords here weren’t happy with that either. Lord Manderly, Alys Karstark, Jorelle Mormont and Jonelle Cerwyn were all frowning at the woman.

“Not a good sign for the dragons if the most honourable knight of the South saw fit to disobey them.” Manderly muttered.

Norrey made his displeasure much more bluntly as he spat at her accusingly.

“You worked for the dragons when you knew your own blood would be against them!”

Ashara seemed to flare with anger at that. “I did no such thing! I was avenging Elia and her daughter, not waging war with the Starks, let alone my own blood!”

“It sounds like the Targaryens want war with us my Queen. They want the North to bend.” Manderly pointed out.

Lady Ashara turned to the fat Lord of White Harbour, speaking defensively. “But not with blood at least. Aegon would have done it much more peacefully if his wife and advisors wanted otherwise.”

“You don’t sound sure of that.” Lady Cerwyn noted.

Val could see it too. She looked uncomfortable at the mention of Aegon Targaryen, looking into her glass. He clearly betrayed you too.

“It also sounds like you still want them to win.” Jorelle Mormont added.

Ashara looked at the woman angrily. “I want peace and my son not to burn by two dragons. And I don’t think the North would want to burn either.”

Val raised her eyebrow. “Jon told me there were three.”

“One was killed before Daenerys met with Aegon.” Ashara said warily.

They can die then.

“Then we can kill two. Dorne killed a dragon once if I remember rightly. We can do this same if they enter the North. Especially in Winter.” Brandon Norrey said confidently.

Ashara looked dumbfounded. “Meraxes killed thousands before it was felled! And in my lessons, I was taught Torrhen bent the knee out of knowledge of the field of fire. Have you all forgotten that?!”

Lord Manderly was the one to answer, speaking darkly instead of his usual jovial tone. “The North does remember Lady Dayne. Torrhen was wise then but we’ve had 300 years to know the folly of a Dragon ruling us in the South. Only one Dragon ever provided for us during winter and he died of the same madness that was a part of most Targaryen monarchs. We haven’t forgotten what Aerys and Rhaegar did to House Stark twenty years ago. And we haven’t forgotten that dragons have been extinct once, by the hands of man and their own kin. It is because we remember that we will not bend.”

The North Remembers. Words said on both sides of the wall. Val thought as she nodded in agreement with Manderly like everyone else in the room. Ashara sighed in defeat.

“Guests rights have been given. You’re welcome to stay.” Val said simply.

Ashara nodded thankfully as the other Lords left, leaving the two alone.

Val watched the Lady drink from her tankard as she looked at Val more appraisingly. Another southerner judging a woman of the North.

“I never expected to meet my son’s wife before him. I hadn’t known he was wed.” Ashara said lightly.

“I never expected to meet you at all.” Val replied.

Ashara smiled. “Blunt. The last Northerner I spoke with was Eddard Stark. He was much the same. And so was Jon’s Father. Charming but blunt. You Northmen don’t play the game.”

Val shook her head. “No, we don’t. The last people who played the Game in the North were slaughtered outside of these walls and gutted in front of the Heart Tree.”

Ashara frowned. “It is true then? My son did gut Roose Bolton and his bastard like that and tell the South of it in their blood?”

Val nodded, “His brother was betrayed and killed. His sister was supposedly in the hands of a madman who had sacked his home and scattered his family to the winds. It was the way of the First men. Wouldn’t you do the same?”

Ashara began to frown more deeply at her question. “I suppose intended something similar after I left Jon with Ned. With fire and blood.”

“But not by your own hand.” Val replied judgingly.

Ashara spoke quietly, almost to herself. “I did help raise him. I would say with my own hand.”

Then the woman went silent. The woman can brood like Jon when he’s thinking, maybe that’s something they share. At least he isn’t over his regrets anymore like she clearly is.

Val stood from her chair. I have nothing to say to the woman. She’s said enough about why she’s here and I have things to do for the North. “This room is yours for the time being.”

Ashara spoke softly. “Tell me of my son.”

Val stopped at the door and turned. “He’s a wolf of the North and mine. He won’t dance to whatever tune you play over the dragons. You best remember that.”

Val walked out of the room. Just another kneeler.

Hope you all enjoyed it! Wanted tae show how Val is managing as the Queen. If anyone wants tae know whether she can read aye she can. In this she was taught by Mance like his wife.

Ashara in this is conflicted. Angry at the betrayal by aegon but still hopeful fir peace because she raised him. Makes her more defensive over him. Val sees that and just sees her as a kneeler. Val doesn't really have an opinion of the woman. She doesnae care.

Next chapter will be Jon at the Wall meeting Bran and Benjen. After that is Daenerys. Then we have the fight wae the others at the wall!

Any questions feel free tae ask!

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 25: Meeting the Three Eyed Crow

Hope you all enjoy! Feel Free tae comment as always! I was on a bit of a roll

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Jon

The Wall and Castle Black wasn’t much different to when Jon had left it. Same Icy Wall and black cloaks of the watch. Jon wasn’t pleased to be back despite the necessity. Thought of the knives that stabbed him made him growl angrily. The growls also came from the former Queen’s Men and Squids that were present. Many had moved away at the sight of him, Ghost, Arya and Nymeria. I’ll have to thank Edd for spreading them across the castles of the Wall. Jon thought as he walked towards the King’s tower with Arya, Samwell Tarly and Howland Reed. The rest of his banners were settling in and preparing their troops for when the Others came.

“You didn’t belong here.” Arya said to him sadly.

“You’re right I didn’t.” Sam replied lightly.

Jon and Arya both laughed at his words. He’d offered his friend the option to stay at Winterfell with Gilly, Little Sam and the young Aemon but Sam had insisted otherwise. Braver than he gives himself credit for.

Sam continued on as they walked. “It wasn’t all bad I suppose. I wouldn’t have met any of you or Gilly.”

“Lucky for some. You two were the ones that got women and a chance to leave. Me, Grenn and Pyp haven’t had that option.” Edd said darkly as he greeted them at the foot of the tower. Jon took the man’s hand firmly before hugging his friend. I will once this is over.

“It’s good to see you Edd. As glum as ever.” Jon said happily.

Edd grunted. “I see you still have that feral grin since getting back up. That’ll make the others scared.”

“I hear you’re Lord Commander.” Sam said as he greeted his friend in turn.

Edd nodded sadly, “Aye, both by Jon’s choosing and the vote. The world must be ending if that’s the case. Mind, I think they’ll demand another vote now that your Uncle is back.”

“And where is our Uncle and Bran?” Arya asked Edd, clearly impatient.

“And my daughter?” Howland asked as well.

“Just inside the rooms opposite the door.” Edd answered as he brought them in.

News of Bran at the Wall with his Uncle and Lady Meera Reed had come not long after his wedding. It came as good news amongst the bad that the Others were being spotted more and more. Though news of Bran’s return wasn’t exactly the greatest. He’d be warned in the raven that his brother had something off about. What have you seen brother?

As Jon entered the room, he was met by three figures sitting by the fire, all in furs. Uncle Benjen and Lady Meera had stood and ran to greet them; Benjen towards him and Arya whilst Lady Meera for her father. Jon and Arya met their Uncle with a firm hug. As they broke, Jon got a better look of his uncle. His Uncle was a lot skinnier than the last time he had seen him and he could see scars over his hands and face. Beyond the Wall had aged him, with patches of white in his dark hair. We’ve all aged from this.

Benjen smiled at the two with sad eyes. “It’s good to see the both of you. Most nights I thought I would never see any of you again.”

“I thought the same.” Jon replied with a smile.

“I don’t think any of us ever thought to see our own blood again.” Arya added sadly.

Benjen’s sad eyes deepened. “My brother didn’t deserve his fate. And neither did any of you.”

Jon noticed him turn towards Bran at his last words. His brother hadn’t said anything from his chair. He’d just been staring at them with dead eyes and an emotionless face. Arya was also looking at him intently.

“Bran?” She asked hesitantly.

“Bran died in a cave beyond the wall. I am the Three Eyed Crow.” Bran responded, voice dull and dead.

The room had turned to silence, with both Benjen and Meera’s face growing sadder. Sam was looking both confused yet intrigued. Arya and Jon looked at each other grimly.

“But you’re Bran.” Arya said defiantly as she sat beside her brother. Jon and the group followed suit.

Bran didn’t flinch or change his emotionless face at the more powerful words. He just shook his head.

“Brandon Stark died so the Three Eyed Crow could live. He knew that I was needed in the long night so did what was necessary. He did something that his expected predecessor failed in.”

A dead voice. There’s nothing of Bran there. Just his face. My brother’s dead. Jon thought with anger. Ghost growling in response.

“What is the Three Eyed Crow?” Sam asked quietly.

“Before the first long night I was simply the memory of the world. A child of the forest gifted with Green sight would give themselves to me and provide the children the knowledge of the world. But when the Long Night came, I became something more than that. I became the bridge between man and the others to keep the peace. A mediator between the First Men and the Others.” Bran answered emotionlessly.

The group was silent. Sam was right.

“Why did you take Bran then if it was originally the Children who became you?” Jon asked angrily.

“It was a condition of the pact. The children had created the Others from man so were no longer allowed the chance. It was agreed by both the First Men and the Others as punishment. It was in part why the children slept with man. To pass the green sight into the first men so any gifted with the sight could become me.” Bran answered.

“But why you?” Arya asked as angrily as himself. Nymeria growling alongside him and ghost.

“Because Bran had the strongest Green Sight at the time. And he was a Stark. He knew what was best for the North. He died fixing the Three Eyed Crow’s mistake with Blood Raven.” Meera answered mournfully as her father held her.

“Blood Raven. The Targaryen bastard with a thousand and one eyes!” Sam exclaimed in shock.

Benjen nodded, speaking sadly. “He had been called to be the Three Eyed Crow before Bran from what I had been told. He didn’t do his duty.”

“And Bran did it instead.” Arya answered sadly.

Jon put his arm to hers. We’ve lost two brothers now.

“Why did Blood Raven not give himself up?” Sam asked.

Bran turned his dead gaze to Sam. “Because he is of dragon blood. I had hoped he would have been able to make the Targaryens understand the pact if dragons ever returned. But all Targaryens serve the dragons and fire regardless of duty as I learnt. They see it as power. He would have destroyed the others given the chance.”

“The Others being gone doesn’t sound like a bad thing.” Edd muttered as the group looked to Bran.

I’m inclined to agree.

Bran shook his head. “Because the others have personified Ice. They are a part of that element now. Not even the Old Gods can separate it. To kill them is to kill the cold that makes the rain that replenishes our crops.”

“And the dragons are the same for fire then.” Sam stated.

For a moment there was a flicker of a smile on Bran’s face. It isn’t Bran’s smile. His lit up a room. That ghostly one is whatever has taken him. Jon thought with a scowl.

“You are right. They were born on the far side of the world from the volcanoes as a war cry against the Others, embedding themselves in fire.”

“Were dragons involved in forcing the pact?” Jon asked warily, not wanting to deal with the Targaryens. They’ll want us to bend regardless of them dying if we lose.

Bran shook his head. “They never met in the first long night. None of this would have happened if they were. Neither side wants peace truly even if they have held off for self-preservation or the pact in the case of the Others. Each wants the death of the other.”

“And we’re all stuck in the middle.” Jon answered bitterly.

“Especially now. The moment Aegon the Conqueror landed with his dragons; the two sides became much more engaged with the war. Both sides increased their numbers with them so close to each other.”

“And the Others kept doing it after the dragons died! The extinction of dragons is what made the others break the pact. They saw it as confirmation that they’d won and wanted to finish us.” Sam finished excitedly.

“Not quite. Most of the dragons were gone from the wars within each other, the hand of man and the tampering of Maesters. One lived despite that, lying relatively dormant. The Others broke the pact to kill it, thinking humanity wouldn’t be able to win after so long. If the dragons were all gone, they would have won.” Bran corrected.

“And now there are three more. We’re going to have to fight them too and make a pact.” Arya realised.

Bran shook his head. “Only two more. One was killed. As long as the dragons don’t make their way North, they won’t attack. The Dragons will want to preserve themselves with less numbers. But if they meet, they won’t hesitate to fight.”

“And we’re fucked if either side wins.” Edd replied glumly.

Jon wanted to bang his head off the wall. They were stuck between Ice and Fire and both wanted to kill each other. The North Remembers and we’ve forgotten this. Jon realised darkly. The North was supposed to remember the pact but 8000 years and the mortality of everyone had taken the knowledge away, all it left to a Three Eyed Crow nobody had ever heard of. And now we only learn of it with them breathing down our necks and the dragons a stone’s throw away to make it all the worse.

“We have to restore the pact and the balance between ice and fire then.” Howland surmised.

“Yes. There is a leader among them. The first other to be turned by the Children and creator of the rest. He is the one that we must definitely keep alive.” Bran replied.

Jon stood and spoke with strength. “We need to break the others to make them obey the pact again. Make them fear the first men and have them remember the pact. Kill enough of them and make the rest go as far North as possible away from the dragons.”

“We break them when they come for the wall.” Arya said, looking at him with confidence.

“You will also require me to renew the pact. I will have to be at a Weirwood tree to do so.” Bran said calmly.

“Then we’ll get you to Last Hearth or Karhold.” Jon replied.

“No, that is too far. You would have to let the Others through for that. I must be at the Weirwood beyond the wall. He will hunt for me anyway to kill me and prevent another pact. That will bring the first other to us.” Bran said simply.

“We won’t risk you!” Arya shouted.

“Bran won’t come back when this over. He died. You only doom yourself by thinking otherwise.” Bran said emptily.

Those words had brought silence to the room. Only the wolves were growling at the three eyed crow in anger at the death of their pack member. He isn’t Bran. Jon heard Meera speak, voice teary.

“Bran wanted us to live so we will do what he would have wanted. I won’t have him die without us winning.”

“Then we guard the crow at the Weirwood and keep you safe. Lure the First Other in and break him. We’ll plan in the morning with the bannermen.” Jon said with a snarl as he stormed off. My brother is dead.

Staring at the world from the wall gave a small measure of peace after seeing what had happened to his brother. Sparring in the yard with Arya and as many of his banners as possible had soothed him more. We’ll need to be at our best. In less than a moon’s turn they will be here. Jon mused sadly as he watched the snows fall onto the ground far below him. He could see men of the Watch and his banners preparing the battle lines for the numbers that would have to be on the ground. He could feel himself inside Ghost as well, hunting with Nymeria and their pack and scouting for the others. Jon wasn’t alone, standing with Arya by his side. Both of them were mournful over Bran. Just like Rickon and Sansa would be. Just like Meera and Benjen were.

“He didn’t deserve to become that.” Jon said harshly into the wind.

“We’ll avenge him though when the Others come.” Arya replied coldly.

“Aye, we’ll break them and make sure they never break the pact again.” Jon vowed.

Arya put her hand to his shoulder and spoke kindly. “We’ll win for Bran.”

Jon smiled at his sister. “We will for Bran.”

And we’ll win for everyone. I want to go home to my wife and live with my family. I’ll make sure the North never forgets so this doesn’t happen again.

Hope you all enjoyed! If there is any confusion, feel free tae ask and will answer the best I can. Basically, I've made it so the others are a part of the fabric of the world now, same fir the dragons. Killing either entirely, or both sides, wipes out everything. The Others made a pact with humanity tae preserve themselves after being almost beat and the three eyed crow realising what would happen to the world if they went. The children not being allowed tae be the crow came because humans had friends turned tae others and the others remembered that happening tae them.

Also, in my head canon fir this, the Valyrians made their own pact wae dragons inadvertently by sort of taming them. However, they were more aligned wae dragons because they want power and dominion so are less aware of that.

Anyway, any questions feel free tae ask!

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 26: The Prince that was Promised

Hope you all enjoy! Feel Free tae comment as always!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Daenerys

The people of King’s Landing had rioted when she displayed Ser Barristan’s head on a spike with his bloodied white cloak wrapped around the spike. The crowd of common folk had erupted into violence, shouting in fury and demanding justice for Ser Barristan. Some had been daring enough to call for Daenerys’ and Aegon’s head. It had taken the presence of Drogon to shut them up before the Unsullied and Dothraki could bring order to the city. The people had not balked in front of her forces, the greatest army the world had known. I have subjects that cry against a traitor’s death. Not even the common folk of this land or loyal. Daenerys thought darkly as she sat on her throne. Ser Barristan had proven himself to be another usurper; taking the Lady Ashara Dayne out of their hands and killing One Hundred and Fifty of her men with little effort in the process.

Her husband’s hand had been amongst the dead. She hadn’t been sad to see the man gone. He wanted it to be solely Aegon ruling. But his death had somehow been her fault according to Aegon, his whore of a cousin and the council members that were his. And he was the one that had been raised by her enemy’s mother and had an advisor with greyscale. They had been lucky he hadn’t spread the disease. Her husband hadn’t liked it when she pointed out those facts to him, with anger and grief consuming his face at the time. She hadn’t seen him after that until he came to her chambers to make an heir. And after fucking his Dornish whore of a cousin. Daenerys had realised bitterly. The Princess of Dorne had her own eyes on the throne and had sunk her fangs into Aegon. Daenerys might not have cared about the woman if she wasn’t threatening her rule. When the Witch is proved wrong and I gain my heir she won’t be able to do anything. Daenerys thought confidently as she watched her husband enter the room in a regal manner. Daenerys held back her scowl as he approached, instead giving a smile and a bitter kiss. She did not get up, forcing him to stand beside the throne today whilst the courtiers entered. You don’t belong on it.

“The Lords of the Vale and the Riverlands will be entering the throne room soon dear wife.” Aegon said in mock pleasantry.

“The Kingdoms that usurped me once husband. I should have them stripped of their titles.” Daenerys replied coldly.

“They could say the same of us for what Aerys did. It will be a poor move to strip House Tully and Arryn of their positions. Especially when the Lady Arryn may be favourable to us.”

Daenerys looked coldly at her husband. “And why would that be? She’s related to the one that take half of my kingdom,”

Aegon smiled. “The Lady Sansa was recently widowed by her cousin’s hand. The bastard of Winterfell killed the Lord Arryn in a trial by combat. She’ll be more favourable to us in getting her homeland back.”

You think yourself smarter than me.

“I would rather have Jorah as my Lord of the North than her in control of two Kingdoms and tied to a third by blood. Though she could be married off to him.” Daenerys mused as she looked at her subjects.

“It would give us control of both the North and the Vale’s regency.” Aegon agreed.

“The North will be grateful to us when their new Warden arrives after they starve throughout winter.” Daenerys said confidently.

She’d decided on that. If the armies were unwilling to march into the cold North to hold it, she would starve them out instead. They would be less willing to fight a fully provisioned army and two dragons after they had no food from the South. Maybe the Lords will overthrow the bastard when he can’t feed them.

Daenerys’ thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of the Vale and Riverlords. At their head she could see four figures, three men and one woman. The woman was dressed in Arryn colours and her red hair was set down simply. The Lady Sansa Stark. The eldest two of the group were dressed in full armour, one black with a trout and the other in strange patterns. The youngest male also was in full armour, though covered in Tully colours. Edmure Tully.

The small group of Lords and Ladies stood below the steps of the throne, surrounded by her courtiers and advisors. Missandei introduced her.

“May I present Queen Daenerys Storm born of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt and the Breaker of Chains!”

Daenerys smiled at her advisor’s words. It faltered as one of Aegon’s advisors spoke.

“And may I present King Aegon Targaryen VI, Rightful King of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, conqueror of Storm’s End and King’s Landing and the symbol of a united realm!”

The Vale Lords and Riverlords looked at the silently. The Lords looked uncomfortable in her eyes… wary. Good, you usurped me once. The head four of the group began to kneel, as did those behind them. Daenerys smiled smugly at the sight as she waited for a moment to let them rise and welcome them to the realm again no matter how begrudgingly. Betray me again and there will be fire and blood.

To her ire, Aegon spoke first.

“Rise! And return to the realm as lords under House Targaryen!”

The Lords and Ladies rose from their positions slowly. Daenerys glared for a moment at her husband before speaking. I will lead this conversation and terms.

“It is under the good graces of House Targaryen that I allow you to return to the realm. I have forgiven the crimes that you have committed in usurping me once. You were wise to return to the realm peacefully.”

The Lady Sansa was the first to speak Out of the group, curtsying demurely. “Thank You your Grace, on behalf of House Arryn and the Vale I would like to thank you for recognising that it was not the fault of us for our Fathers’ rebellion.”

Daenerys’ smile faltered. She thinks herself blameless. Her house benefited from my fall.

“And I thank you for recognising that the faults of my father were not my own.” Daenerys replied tightly.

She noticed some of the Vale and Riverlords look warily at the mention of her father. Is it guilt for killing your King or regret that your assassins didn’t kill me?

Her husband stepped forward and smiled broadly. “It was a shame that you were not able to join us sooner. I know you had similar grievances to us with House Lannister. I would have enjoyed fighting alongside you.”

Edmure bowed in thanks. “I appreciate the sentiment your grace. Though I’ll admit that I don’t think you needed us. The presence of your dragons must have been enough.”

Aegon smiled more at that. Thief.

“I would have enjoyed fighting alongside you. I had heard of Ser Barristan joining your ranks. It would have been good to fight with an old friend.” The man in black added, staring coldly at her.

Daenerys scowled at the mention of Ser Barristan. “Ser Barristan is dead. He proved himself to be a dishonourable traitor for freeing a hostage of the crown.”

The man in black’s face turned from cold to angry, as did the older man beside him. Some of the Lords behind them started to mumble. She went to stand and silence them but the Lady Sansa had turned, bringing them to quiet.

“I am sorry to hear that he betrayed you your grace. Ser Barristan had been a kind man when I knew him and my Great Uncle Brynden has fought beside him many times. Though Ser Barristan had misplaced his loyalties once to the false King Joffrey and King Robert.” Sansa replied politely.

“We should have been more aware of that My Lady.” Aegon said softly as he looked to Daenerys with a glare.

Daenerys glared back before staring at the group. “I believe Ser Barristan’s death should be a lesson on what happens to those that are disloyal to House Targaryen. It is something you will all remember lest you wish to lose your lives and titles. I believe hostages may be in order.”

“You already have hostages from the Riverlands Your Grace. The Lannisters had taken some to the capital. How long will they be under your control?” Edmure asked tentatively.

The ones that were killed by House Lannister in the conquest of the city. You will need to provide others.

“I’m afraid those hostages were killed my Lord when we took the city. The Lannisters were the ones did that.” Aegon said sadly.

Daenerys watched as some of the group’s faces turned grief-stricken. Brynden and the man with strange armour looked suspicious. You think I killed them, don’t you? You think me your enemy!

“Perhaps it is better that hostages are not taken for now dear wife? They have clearly suffered without house Targaryen?” Aegon asked her kindly.

Make me look the villain and set yourself as the Binder of the realm.

Daenerys stood from walked slowly and elegantly as she continued addressing her new subjects.

“I believe that is an excellent idea husband. As long as it inspires loyalty to my rule. Loyalty is important to me and something I expect from you all. You must remember that the realm is mine and it is by my kindness that you keep your positions and your families together.”

Daenerys walked directly in front of Sansa Stark. “I will expect that loyalty for the wars to come. The North has yet to heel.”

Lady Sansa did not flinch as she stood in front of her. The woman nodded firmly with some tears. “You have my support your grace. The vale has suffered the loss of its liege and for me my husband. Though may I offer you some advice on the North if that is not an issue?”

Daenerys smiled genuinely. She speaks well like Missandei and Jorah will find you pretty once you are over your grief. “I would appreciate it my Lady. My advisors have heard very little of the North.”

That Eunuch has heard nothing and the last to give any advice was the usurper’s mother.

Sansa smiled as she dried her tears. “I would advise a more patient tact your grace. My bastard cousin will not balk at dragons sadly, no matter how many of my people will suffer. It is also winter, a time where the North suffers from lack of food. That problem will increase sympathies towards you if you continue to offer food should my bastard cousin bend. But there is something else that may further weaken the North to make them more susceptible to you.”

Daenerys raised her eyebrow. “And what might that be?”

“It is better if I show you if I may?” Sansa asked politely.

Daenerys nodded and a small group of Lords left. They waited for some time until she started to hear screams as the doors opened. Daenerys looked in horror at the screaming, rotting things that were trying to break free of their chains. They looked horrible. Her courtiers and advisors were gasping in shock.

“What are they?” Aegon asked as he walked closer in a show of bravery. Daenerys was doing the same as she walked closer to them.

“They’re wights your grace. Dead men under the thrall of the Others. My Cousin is fighting them during winter. He says there are over one hundred thousand of them.”

“And he asked you to warn the realm?” Aegon asked.

Sansa shook her head. “No. He told me and everyone south of the Neck to stay out of his way while he beat them.”

“You believe he can beat them?” Daenerys asked.

Sansa nodded. “I do. My bastard cousin is a usurper and a savage but I know he can. I believed him when he said everything which could beat them. It will weaken the North further for you your grace when he does. That war will kill many Northmen and maybe even him so you can take it afterwards.”

I could let the Northerners all die and then solve the problem myself. Or I can beat the dead myself and force the North to bend because I’ve saved them. They won’t stand against their rightful Queen after that and be grateful for it.

“You speak fairly of your bastard cousin Lady Sansa. But I believe a dragon can do what he intends much better. I will burn these dead men with my dragons. I can save my Northern subjects from them and the fool that is your cousin!”

Her courtiers began to cheer as she walked out of the throne room, commanding them to follow. “I will burn these wights with Drogon and show you that fire and blood will save the realm!!!”

I am the Princess that was Promised that the Red Witches of the East Speak of. I will take my Kingdom and save the realm.

Hope you all enjoyed it! Sansa had tae go south because dragons make it hard tae hole up instead. Hence the public bending of the knee. She was also trying tae get Daenerys tae leave the North alone. Sansa clocks what she's like very quickly. It just backfires sadly. And Brynden, Lord Royce and most of the Lords are pissed at barristan dying. They were aware of him being dead when entering the city but wanted tae know why. Calling him dishonourable was a poor choice of words in their eyes.

Daenerys and aegon will be bringing some troops too. This happens round about the time Jon leaves for the wall, a little before. So travel time there

The Battle at the Wall will be next! I know it isnae winterfell but I still intend tae dae it justice instead of the shit that was the tv. So if it takes a while longer I am sorry.

Any questions, feel free tae ask!

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 27: The Battle of The Wall Part 1

Hope you all enjoy! Feel Free tae comment as always!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Arya

Arya stood proudly with her fellow Northmen as they waited for the dead to appear out of the woods. This was what she had always wanted, to fight like her brothers. And her first battle would be against the oldest enemy of the North. As terrifying as it was, knowing that she would be facing the God of Death incarnate and that failure meant extinction… it was satisfying to be fighting with her people. And with her brother. We’ll beat them and have them remember the North. Arya thought as she waited below the wall with 10,000 of the 25,000 strong army.

As much as everyone would prefer to stay above on the wall, and the bulk of the army was, a portion would have to be on the ground for the plan to work and to prevent any of the Others reaching the wall. The Three Eyed Crow that had killed her brother had warned them that the magics of the wall had weakened considerably, meaning that the Other could pass through the gates. The magics of the wall were connected to the brothers at the wall. Depleting numbers of the watch had made the magics start to fail, something that would only heal with more men joining the watch. It was something that could only be done with time though, meaning it was the strength of the First Men that would be winning the day and pushing them back. At least we aren’t completely on flat ground. Arya thought as she surveyed the ground before her in wait. The Northmen had been busy since arrival, finishing and adding to the Watch’s work by digging deeper trenches at the border of the forest, building more wooden spikes, oiling the ground and creating a large elevation for the men on the ground. The embankment put them ten foot above the dead, giving an advantage for spears and shields. The only place not elevated was for the men was right at the gate, allowing for cavalry to make there way onto the field through the opening on the east side when the time was right. When Jon enters the field.

They’d made it the best place to defend the wall, knowing they would go wherever the Three Eyed Crow was before killing everything else. The Watch had also made it the only place to get through, freezing all other gates along the wall. Only the gate of Castle Black was open so the crow could reach the Godswood. The dead could only enter one way, unless they waited for the seas to freeze. A long wait for them but it’s getting cold enough. Arya thought as she waited alongside the Northmen.

“I fucking hate the wait.” Hugo Wull said as he looked between the group then out towards to the forest.

“Ha! You don’t know what wait is Wull! I’ve been waiting for a proper fight since the Twins! Those Frey and brotherhood shits were barely worth the time! At least you got to fight the Boltons!” Umber boomed into the deathly cold.

“Neither of you know what waiting feels like.” Cold hands said bluntly, looking forwards as he spoke.

His words brought a moment of silence to the Northmen. The Crow’s servant was a tale of Old Nan’s that had come to life for the Northmen. The Infamous Thirteenth Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. He was the Lord Commander that had fallen in love with the only woman that had been turned into one of the Others by the Children. Benjen had told her of it one night after meeting him, that the female other and a few of her kind had sought to disobey the pact, weakening the watch by corrupting it, something the Lord Commander had happily obliged in until he was defeated. His punishment had been eternal service to the watch and the Crow, knowing that his Queen was dead. The Dead man was no friend to the Others for what had happened to him. He can neither live nor die, simply serve the watch.

“You might get what you want this day.” Arya said to Cold Hands.

Cold Hands just grunted in response, walking over to some of the giants that were also on the ground, clad in armour mixed with iron and leather. Twenty of them on the ground for any of their dead kin and the rest as archers.

“We are truly in the age of heroes again. We fight with the Night’s King and giants against death itself.” Alsyane said almost reverently.

“Aye! We’ll be making corpses of corpses and I’ll be showing my kin what true giants are! Umber bellowed into field with his Uncles hammering their shields.

“You know, I always wondered whether your voice could wake the dead Umber. It seems it’s true now that the long Night’s here.” Maege said dryly.

“Har! My Lady’s got the right of it. You’re a loud fucker even for a free-folk!” Tormund agreed as he laughed alongside the Northmen.

Arya smiled as Maege smacked him on the head. “None of that my lady bollocks Tormund. Or you’ll be joining the dead sooner than you’d hope.”

“Har! I killed a giant at ten and I bed you she-bear!” Tormund shot back in challenge.

The Northmen smiled until the horns brought them to silence. They’re here. Arya could see faint images within the woods, most barely noticeable except for the odd dead giant amongst them. It felt colder before as the two sides seemed to wait. The Others bring the Cold. Arya thought as she stared coldly into the darkened woods. Neither side was moving, both waiting to see who would make the first move. It could only be the dead to move. An advance would kill the North’s chances. The Northmen were all silent as they waited for the dead to move.

“What do we say to the God of Death?” Arya asked them all loudly.

The Northmen looked at her. She wasn’t commanding the army like Maege and Great Jon but she was a Stark of Winterfell and they listened.

“Not today!” Arya shouted.

The Northmen roared in response.

“What do we say to the God of death?!!!” She shouted again.

“Not today!!!!” The chorus of Northerners yelled.

The shields of the Northmen started banging across their embankment. Then the dead began to move forward quickly. Arya watched them finally come into proper vision as they ran out of the forest. They were no faster or slower than men and women, just not stopping. The dead men ran quickly into the long trench, slowly filling it. The archers wouldn’t let them fill it so the rest could get passed though as Arya watched the sky light up with thousands of flaming arrows, some larger than others thanks to the giants. There was something oddly beautiful seeing over 10,000 arrows flying almost in unison. The volley landed firmly into the trench, hitting into the screaming dead men and setting them alight… and the oil at the bottom of the trench. The fires of the trench burnt through the screaming dead men and eventually putting the army to a stop briefly. The Northmen roared again.

“Not a bad start.” Arya said quietly as she watched the flames dance in the trench, ending the dead men’s screams. The Northmen on the wall were going to be the best for thinning the enemy forces considerably having the height advantage. The forces under Lord Glover, Cerwyn and Blackwood’s command would be keeping the dead off them as long as possible and keeping the numbers from overwhelming them. We’ll be clashing eventually though.

The fires were slowly fading, returning the field to a darkness dimly lit by their own sconces and the embers of the trench. To the Northmen’s joy, none of the dead that had fallen in the trench had got back up. A good sign that the flaming arrows had worked. Within the flickers of fire Arya could see that none of the Others were visible yet, only dead men.

“They’re moving again!” Maege shouted as the dead started piling on top of the permanent corpses in the trench. Some of them were filling it up so the rest of the army could traverse across. Another great volley of arrows struck into the Wights as they clambered over the trench. The Volley struck the dead men once again, further lighting the field of the dead in flames. It wasn’t as effective as before but the flames were dropping the dead men and thinning numbers. Though there were clearly not in short supply as the horde ran through the flames that were consuming the arrow pierced Wights. The dead men’s screams as they were getting closer and the screams more piercing as they moved nearer and near, some of their forces only being stopped by the volleys of arrows. Until they hit the spike nearing the centre of the battlefield. Arya could hear a thousand bone crunching noises as the dead men hit the spikes, still moving as they screamed on the barricades. Some of the dead men tore in half at the contact, torsos flying off and still moving. Other met with their heads and stopped. The rest began to climb over.

Another burst of flew over the Northmen as the arrows let loose across the sky while the barricade held temporarily.

“It’s breaking!” Whoresbane yelled as the dead men climbed over the corpses and crushed the barricade into the ground. Giant Wights tearing through some parts of it quicker than others. The dead were running into the centre of the field. This was the bit that everyone dreaded. The archers were to wait until as many of the dead were on the centre before firing. If it worked, they would be able to thin the numbers a lot more. If they’re too soon it won’t do enough and if they’re too late then we’re going to have even more to overrun us.

“Remember! The archers are waiting not fucking us over!!!!” Tormund yelled into the army.

“And if they do fuck us over then we throw the cunts off the wall after we clean up their mess!!!” Umber boomed as he held his Great Sword firmly.

Arya watched intently as the hordes of the dead in their thousands made their way into the field. She could see rotting men, women, children and giants all coming for them. None of the Others were present yet. They must be at the back, Arya realised as the numbers kept coming. She was staring death in the face and it just kept growing.

“Come on ya bastard archers!!!!” Wull yelled upwards as the thousands got closer.

Arya felt the same as she looked at the screaming rot before her. But then she saw the flames above them. Only one hundred were flying through the air but they were much bigger, that of the giants up on the wall. The giant arrows struck into the giant Wights and the ground, lighting the oil that had been placed across the entirety of the centre. The fires from each arrow spread violently across the centre of the field, consuming the entire field. Once again, the freezing night had been illuminated and warmed up as the dead were held in their tracks. Thousands upon thousands were burning and screaming. Some were turning to ashes and others were just dropping to the ground. And other dead men hadn’t stopped in time, adding to the carnage.

“Do they feel pain?” Arya asked to herself as she listened to the screams.

“They feel nothing. The screams are just used for fear and to inform their masters of things. They’ll be coming soon now that you’re proving to be a bother.” Cold hands answered as he looked on before moving towards his elk behind the embankment.

“About time we see these fucks!!!” Crowfood shouted angrily into the army.

“They’re here.” Arya whispered as she watched them walk out of the forest, flames showing their image.

The Northmen turned to silence as they entered the field, parting through the dead men that had stopped at the foot of the flames. There were one hundred of them by Arya’s count, some on horseback. They were dressed in black leather armour, wielding great spears of Ice in their hands. Their entire faces were an icy blue, faces emotionless and dark horns at the top of their skills. A face of death. Arya thought with a chill. The Others made no sound as they made their way to the front, being led by one of them, not much different to his kin except for more armour on his person. Arya watched as the others looked at the flames that lit the centre of the field for a moment before the well armoured other raised his hand. She could feel the cold from here as whatever he was doing slowly brought the flames to an end.

“He can quell the flames.” One Northman muttered in fear.

“And we can break the cunts!” Tormund replied loudly.

Volleys of arrows started again as Tormund yellow, flames hitting the dead men but not doing much to the Others. They can’t stop the flames if it comes to quickly. Arya realised as most flaming arrows didn’t dissipate to whatever the others were doing, only those around them.

“DO DEAD MEN OWN THE NORTH?!!! Umber yelled as the armies of the dead and some of the Others made their way forward, getting closer.

“NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!” The Northmen roared in response.

“WHO OWNS THE NORTH?!!!!!” Maege shouted as the thousands hit the barricade below them, Wights climbing over their dead.

“US!!!!!!!!!” The Northmen roared as they prepared their shields and weapons.

Arya roared with them as they prepared. More Volleys of flaming arrows hurtled across the sky into the dead sprinting out of the forest. The archers would be thinning numbers but the clash was inevitable. We won’t be overrun. Arya thought as she took a deep breath.

Then the clash of screaming dead men hit their shields when they finally made their way up the embankment. Arya felt the power their as thousands of Wights put pressure on each other to get to them. It felt horrible as their weight lumbered on the shields, with the screaming ring at them. Arya wasn’t going to let the noise deter her though as she slammed her obsidian tipped spear into a Wight’s head through the shields. Every Northman with spears was doing the same, shields pushing forward to send the dead hurtling back. The sound of spears and swords bashing into bones. Could be heard across the entire line.

“Winterfell!!!” Arya shouted as her spear thrust into another Wight’s face as it tried to push through. Great Jon answered her shout with his own as his giant Great sword cleaved three heads off in one swing.

“UMBER!!!!”

The Northmen were hacking violently at every Wight that kept coming at them. Arms, legs and heads were flying everywhere before them as dead men dropped to the ground permanently. Others less so as Arya saw half a torso try and grab a Northman’s foot. Arya stabbed the Wight in the neck and pulled the head back, severing it from the head and dulling its blue eyes to nothing. Out of the back, Arya could hear the giants roaring as they prevented the Wights from coming up the East and West sides of the embankment, giant spiked clubs smashing into the hordes The Northmen were doing well but their efforts and that of the archers were being overshadowed by the fact that they were outnumbered. And the Others hadn’t decided join the fray after removing the fire from the field. They needed them to get closer so they could use their dragon glass on them and thin them out. There are too many for now though. Arya thought as she kept hacking at the dead. Then she heard the howls of the wolves and felt Nymeria’s presence and smiled.

Nymeria and her pack had been sent with Benjen and the Black Brothers to the Night fort some time prior to ride through the secret passageway. Arya briefly looked through Nymeria, seeing Benjen and a group of riders in black, all wielding chains with a flaming iron ball attached. Benjen had Widow’s Wail in hand and chain in the other as the riders and the wolves tore into Wights for a quick attack to distract the Wights. More arrows volleyed on the eastern side as far away from the riders as possible. Arya felt Nymeria tear dead men in half as Benjen and his black brothers smash into the dead men, Benjen making his way for one of the Others that was approaching the rider. Benjen and Nymeria didn’t give the Others time to properly engage as Widow’s Wail cut through the Other’s head and Nymeria smashed into another, a rider ending it with a dragon glass. Arya grinned as the Northmen cheered at her Uncle killing the other and starting to split the enemy’s forces. The cheers as they fought was met with another piercing howl from behind and chants.

“The Jon!!!!”

“The Jon!!!!”

“The Jon!!!!”

Jon had entered through the gate with his own cavalry and wolves, made up of Robar Royce’s knights and Northern cavalry. Cold Hands was joining them, taking the crow off the back of Jon’s horse for his elk.” Arya turned back to see that they were charging out of the small opening on the east embankment that was guarded by the giants smashing a clearing for them. She could see the snarl on Jon’s face, illuminated by a torch. The Heavy cavalry charged through them, lances piercing through dead men as they hurtled through the battlefield, wolves ripping heads off alongside. She could see Jon wield Longclaw on his horse, savagely cutting through the dead men as he led the charge. He still won’t use a Lance. He’d got a group of others’ attentions, some riding to meet the cavalry. Arya made her way as close to the east side as possible and flung an obsidian dagger into one of them before it could get closer, turning it to nothing. Jon impaled another brutally with Longclaw as he pushed further into the distance.

The first other must have realised that Jon had the Crow, following suit on a dead horse with group of others and dead men. It had worked. Jon had split some of the Others albeit it to confront the first Other and forge the pact again. He’ll do it. Arya thought determinedly as she stabbed another Wight.

“He’s split the bastards up!!” Tormund yelled cheerfully.

“The King in the North!!!!” Arya yelled.

The Northmen roared again as they pushed their shields at the Wights and stabbed. “The King of Winter!!!!!”

“Stark!!!!!”

“Stark!!!!!”

“Stark!!!!!”

“Stark!!!!!”

The Dead Men screamed in response as the others joined them on the embankment. Not today. Arya repeated to herself as she thrust her spear forward.

Jon

Jon snarled angrily as he impaled the pale blue other with Longclaw before kicking his horse to go faster, hacking at the Wights as he rode. There were more dead men than any had imagined but Jon didn’t care. He’d kill as many of them as possible and make it permanent. Jon and Ghost howled as they hacked a large Wight to bits. The riders finally pushed through the Wights and had an opening to ride as fast as possible to the Godswood. The Lancers and war thuribles that the riders were using had proven to be effective in clearing a pathway through the dead after the giants gave them the opening. Jon had seen his forces cut through heads like they were butter whilst Ghost and the pack tore through the Wights, adding to the carnage.

Jon heard Robar Royce, Cley Cerwyn, Grenn and the riders cheer as the field opened up to them, allowing them and the horse to move much more quickly to the Godswood. Now they’ll be chasing us. Jon thought as he looked back, seeing that the bulk of the Others and some dead men were chasing after them. But that was the plan though, getting the Others to him for making the pact and preventing all of their army from attacking solely him or the army guarding the gate. If all of the dead followed him then Arya, Maege and the Great Jon could cut them down from behind. And letting the Crow go free was too much of a risk to be left free. The Others are smart enough to realise that. Jon thought as he rode forward. Looking back once more he saw a volley of arrows struck into some but the fires quelled near the Others.

“Faster!!!!” Jon growled as he kicked his horses.

The horses and the wolves picked up the pace, gradually running out of the range of the archers. They would be focusing on thinning the horde that was attacking the men and women below the wall. Two Thousand had also been sent out to reinforce Arya’s position to make sure the infantry didn’t get overrun. They’ll hold and if they’re lucky start to push forward. And I’ll break them here. Jon vowed as he rode onwards into the night, wolves howling against the screams as they rode on. To his side he could see Cold Hands and The Three Eyed Crow riding on the elk. Having the Crow with them was the biggest risk but ultimately necessary. They needed him here to make the pact and Jon wasn’t planning on letting him die. You killed my brother. You better be speaking true. Jon thought with a growl escaping his lips as they kept going.

Their horses had managed to make a lead on the Others and the Wights, though Jon could see that the Others were still visible out of them. Jon looked hard at the one leading them, blue skin the most ice like from Jon’s perception. He was well armoured and broader shouldered than the rest. His face was emotionless but its stare was penetrating. Jon gripped Longclaw tighter with rage as he kept moving. That was the one he had to break. He was the most powerful of them, being the first created from the hatred of the children. It made him more durable to Obsidian and Valyrian Steel according to the Crow and most likely to be more durable to dragon fire. Jon had thought it better that the first other should die so he could treat with one of the weaker ones but the Crow had advised against it. If the First Other fell then the side of Ice would be much weaker against the dragons if the worst ever came and that would mean extinction regardless.

It didn’t take them long for the riders to reach the Godswood, Red Leaves and Weirwood face being illuminated by their fires. Jon would have had people here waiting for them but there would have been too much of a risk of them being found if the dead scouted them. The group of riders prepared quickly, getting off their horses to form up around the Weirwood with the Crow at the centre. The horses had been sent off. The Crow would return them after the battle.

Jon watched the men prepare themselves as the Others and Wights got closer. They were only a few minutes away from looking through Ghost’s eyes. The wolf pack was howling and growling as they prepared. He could barely see anyone in the dark and snow. His men were faintly visible by what fire weapons they had. But he could feel their fear as the thundering of dead hooves and the patter of scattered dead feet became much louder. One clearly of a dead giant. Jon snarled at the dead as they came into view. The Others were at the front, looking at them with dead eyes, knowing they would be surrounding them. The two groups stared at each other.

“FOR THE PACK!!!!” Jon howled, breaking the silence of his men.

“FOR WAYMAR!!!” Robar Shouted.

“FOR JEOR!!!” Grenn shouted.

“FOR THE NORTH!!!!” Everyone roared with the wolves growling.

The Others began to ride forward on their horses to break the line. Ghost responded in kind by charging at them, his wolf pack hitting both the dead horses and the Wights. The dead horses kept moving as wolves tore at their legs until they managed to bring some of them down, running off to fight the Wights when the Others started to kill their pack. Ghost ripped through the first other’s horse before running tearing at a Wight’s head and helping to scatter the horde. Jon could taste the rotting flesh in his mouth, feeling Ghost’s bloodlust. They weren’t the only animals attacking the dead, with a murder of crows swooping down and clawing at dead eyes and heads. The Others didn’t seem to like them as they walked forward, leading the charge instead of waiting back.

“Break the fuckers!!” Jon snarled, slashing through the Other in a charge as some of his men followed whilst others formed up around the Crow.

The Wights and Others were hitting them hard, attacking them as ruthlessly as they were. Jon hacked Longclaw through the Wights in front of them as he pushed forward into the horde for the Wights towards one of the Others. The Great Icy blade clashed with his own, the two having a short parry before Jon sidestepped and cut the Other’s hand off before its body turned to icy water. Jon shot forward through the dead, cutting them down as Ghost joined him, tearing at any coming from his side. Jon grinned savagely as he fought with his wolf and the warriors. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Grenn and a group of brothers fighting a giant Wight with Cold Hands, trying to break the right flank to get to the Crow. To his front Robar had felled one Other with an obsidian blade as he fought alongside Cerwyn but they were getting overwhelmed as more Others and Wights began to attack them. Ghost and Jon worked in unison as the wolf pulled the Wights off Cerwyn, allowing for the young Northman to get back up, being pulled up by Torghen Flint and his son Artos. Jon joined Robar in engaging the Others, both of them parrying furiously as Cerwyn and the Flints smashed their axes into the Wights.

“We Remember!!!” Robar yelled as he thrusted into another Other, breaking his guard and turning another to water. But his own guard had opened ul, allowing for an icy blade to impale his side, sending him to the ground dead. Jon snarled, cutting at the Other in front of him before taking Robar’s head off and attacking the Other that killed him with wild blows. The horned monster tried to break his attacks but Jon kept pushing him back as the wolves and Northmen took care of the Wights around them. Every attack Jon gave, he felt a growl escape his lips as the Wolfblood coursed through his veins. Eventually the emotionless creature didn’t block quick enough, allowing Jon to break through him and chop at its head, sending cold ice water into the air.

“We need to get to the Weirwood!!!” Cerwyn shouted as he cut a Wight’s head off.

Jon turned in the direction of the wood, seeing that the giant Wight had fallen finally, but it had taken half of the brothers and Grenn to kill. Your watch has ended. Jon howled at his fallen brother’s loss, charging forward with Ghost, followed by wolves and men alike.

“TO THE WEIRWOOD!!!” Jon yelled into the night.

Cold Hands and the men guarding the Crow were being attacked by the others, not making much damage as they tried to get an opening. For a moment Jon saw a dagger strike the first Other’s face only for it to leave a cut. He’s more durable than the rest. Jon confirmed as he barrelled forward, taking more and more heads in the horde that was between them and the remaining Others. Some of which had been his own men moments ago. Ghost and the wolves ran into the backs of Others, pushing them forward before putting their fangs into their armour dragging them back to be killed by his men. Some of his men and wolves weren’t as lucky as the Others got up, impaling their blades into Torghen Flint and some of the Wolves. He heard an angry cry from Artos Flint as slammed his obsidian axe into the Other that killed his father whilst the remaining wolves and men made an opening for Jon. Jon and Ghost ran at the First Other, Ghost for the legs and Jon to the head. To his shock, the First Other turned from Cold Hands and blocked him and kicked Ghost back.

Jon growled as he felt Ghost’s pain form having the wind knocked out of him. The First Other turned his attention to him fully.

“PROTECT THE CROW!!!” Jon ordered his men and Cold Hands as he raised his sword to the first Other. The Other raised its spear in response, moving forward. The two began to circle as each side’s forces fought to keep the enemy from joining.

Jon looked at the Other before him. He was better armoured than the rest, adorned with thick black armour and the faint shape of an eye at the breastplate. His blue skin seemed brighter and more ice like than the rest. His black eyes were focused but seemed to hold a hint of something else in them that Jon couldn’t quite figure out. But that didn’t matter to Jon, it was the cut on his cheek that was interesting, bleeding a mix of red and wet snow. How many cuts will I have to give before you break? Jon wondered as he snarled, running forward to clash with the First Other. Longclaw met the large Ice Spear once again, an unnatural clang penetrating the night. The Other pushed backwards and started a relentless barrage of strike at Jon. Jon blocked as many of them as possible before moving to the side and slashing at the arm and cutting a part of the leather. It gets colder with every swing of the spear. Jon thought angrily as he thrust angrily at the Other’s throat before it was effortlessly blocked, pushing his sword back to him and making Jon stagger slightly.

The Other made an attempt to impale him but Jon stepped backward and smashed his sword down onto the spear with force and pushing it into the ground. Jon grinned as he took the brief moment to cut at the leather again. This time it got through, leaving another cut on the Other’s body. Longclaw went to strike the Other’s throat again but was blocked by the Icy spear as it effortlessly left the ground. The Other’s face remained emotionless despite the cut and began to engage again, managing to cut at Jon’s face and pushing him backwards again. Jon grunted at the cut, colder than anything he had felt beyond the wall. He could feel some drops of blood turn to ice as they escaped the cut and dropped to the ground. The Other went for another cut at Jon but Jon deflected it, though feeling another freezing cut to his hand.

“I WILL END YOU!!!” Jon roared in response, resuming their battle.

Both of them deflected and parried each other, neither giving much ground. Jon snarled at every clash of cold Ice against him. The fight needed to be quicker than this or he would eventually slow down. The Others don’t tire like us . Jon thought as he blocked another blow and countered. I won’t tire either. Jon thought as he ducked under the Other’s spear and slashed at his stomach, making another cut through the leather and into the icy skin. Ghost and a smaller murder of crows attacked at the same time, Ghost sinking its fangs into the cut arm and the crows clawing at its skull. The Other went to smack his wolf off but Jon kicked the Other backwards as Ghost let go. Jon threw his black obsidian dagger into the Other’s eye as it fought the crows. The obsidian dagger jammed into the black eye, turning the Other’s face angry. Jon wasn’t going to let him strike back though, starting another reign of blows. This time Jon was making more opening and cuts into the Other’s armour and skin. Red and snow blood was starting to leak through the armour now. Then the Icy spear cut across and through Jon’s armour, making a long cut across Jon’s skin. It would have been deep without the armour. Jon thought as he heard Ghost’s angry snarl.

His loyal wolf charged in once again, trying to grab at the Other’s leg. The Other pivoted his body to stab Ghost. Jon saw red before he got the attempt, bringing his sword low and cutting at the Other’s kneecap, striking through the greaves and halfway through the Other’s leg. The Other dropped onto the leg that Ghost was tearing, spear turning into a crutch. Jon snarled at the Other before him, ripping out the black dagger and putting it to its throat. He looked around briefly to see that there were only Others left engaging his allies and that they had stopped. All were looking at the Other kneeling on the ground with two blood and death covered wolves stood over it. Jon and Ghost looked at the other and gave deathly growls.

“YIELD!!!!” Jon shouted at the Other, Ghost and what remaining wolves howling with his shout.

The Other looked at him for a moment, returning from a state of anger to something else in the icy façade. Something that would look like shock and fear on the living. The moment lasted for an age before the Other nodded. Then Jon watched the Other’s face twist in pain, Jon felt it too as he heard the dead voice of the crow speak.

“And now we will remake the pact.”

Hope you all enjoyed! I hope the strategy fir this was good. We'll be going back tae Arya next chapter. Nothing's finished just yet though. The battle isnae over. And I felt wae giants around and the North aware there have been loads of preparations on the wall to build an embankment and some traps and large amounts of oil. Common sense stuff fir a siege in my mind. Any questions feel free tae ask.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 28: The Battle of The Wall Part 2

Hope you all enjoy! Feel Free tae comment as always!!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Great Jon Umber

There were thousands of them. The horde of corpses didn’t seem to stop despite the reign of lit arrows coming from above them and the Northmen hacking them to pieces for every life they took from their lines. But they were thinning out. And the Great Jon was making sure of that as his Great Sword cleaved corpses into bits from his position on the embankment. The corpses were easy work in Jon’s eyes. The bodies of men and women but with none of the talent. It was the Others that were the problem that Jon wanted dealt with. They had initially joined their horde in attacking the lines after The King in the North’s charge but had quickly moved back to let their numbers overwhelm them when a few of them got turned to icy water by the Northmen. That meant they were shit fighters when the odds were evened.

Great Jon Umber and his Uncles all roared in unison as another wave of Wights struck at their lines. The Three Umbers slashed their swords through the screaming corpses, sending heads and torsos flying back as the shields in front of him pushed back. Umber grinned into the blue eyes of the dead as he swung again and again. Another volley of flaming arrows hitting the dead at the back. The line of didn’t feed into the forest anymore. It was just below the centre of the field.

“THESE CORPSES WERE KILLED BY LESSER MEN!! THE CORPSES I MAKE STAY CORPSES!!!!” Umber roared over the screaming Wights.

His Uncles both laughed as they continued hacking, shouting their own chances.

“THIS MIGHT HAVE BEEN A CHALLENGE IF THE OTHERS COULD ACTUALLY FIGHT!! Crowfood yelled.

“WHEN THIS NIGHT’S OVER THEY’LL CALL ME OTHERSBANE UMBER!!! Whoresbane shouted.

His Uncle had been the first Umber to kill one of the Others when they had hit their lines to Great Jon’s annoyance. I’ve killed more Wights than the both of them. When I get the chance, I’ll have more Other dead than half the army. The Great Jon thought as he sliced another corpse to pieces.

And that came when Benjen’s horses were finally killed, bringing the riders to the ground. They’d kept harrying the dead’s lines with the wolves, riding off before they could get overwhelmed and then coming back to deal more damage. Now they were on the ground and fighting to stop the dead from overwhelming them as the wolves tore at dead legs and torsos.

“PUSH FORWARD!!!” Maege growled from her flank as her mace smashed into a Wight’s skull, sending the body straight into the ground. The west flank started to push forward. Maege, Alsyane, Tormund and Sigorn moving first. The Great Jon grinned at the words. About fucking time.

“YOU HEARD THE MORMONT!!!!!” The Great Jon roared as he hurtled through the shields and ran into the dead men. Umbers weren’t meant to stay in line long. Too big and eager to fight to stay in the lines forever. The freedom was invigorating as he ran down the embankment, leading the Northerners as his sword tore through the dead men. Umber laughed as the corpses before him turned to slabs of rotten meat and bone by his sword. This is a proper fight. The Northmen hadn’t given the dead the chance to overwhelm their lines as their shields pushed them back and their swords took heads off. He could see Hugo Wull and his battle axe crush through a Wight’s chest as he joined the giants on the east flank that were making paste with their clubs before smashing them into a giant Wight’s skull.

The Northern army was in the thick of the corpses now as they pushed onwards towards the Others who finally had to fight. A group of them were heading towards Benjen and the wolves. And the Princess Arya was charging towards them. She was quick as she moved through the dead, dodging and weaving through the horde. The Great Jon turned his bloodlust in that direction to help thin the horde for her and kill some Others.

“THOSE HORNED FUCKS ARE MINE!!!!!” Great Jon bellowed as him and his Uncles began a merciless assault. His sword making a semicircle of headless corpses as he turned to his left. He ran fast as he cut a rotten pathway in the night. His sword carved through them. He could feel some that hadn’t stayed dead trying to grab and bite his legs and torso. My family doesn’t have house words; a picture paints a thousand words and we are giants breaking from chains. Umber thought happily as he flung them off his body and crushed them with his boots as he ran right into the Other that had just killed a black brother with its ice spear. Great Jon gave a blood curdling roar as he unsheathed the obsidian axe in one hand as he held his Great Sword with the other. He swung violently at the Other’s head, forcing it to duck from his Great sword and attempt a block. Umber brought the Great sword back before it could collide with the ice spear and smashed the axe into the chest, turning the Other into nothing but water.

Great Jon laughed as smashed into more Wights as he carved his way forward again. The Princess had managed to get herself close to her Uncle, her wolves having joined her in their assault. The wolves were now tearing into the Wights as a group of Others were circling them. The Others were keeping Arya and Benjen from striking with their spears defending them against Valyrian Steel and Obsidian.

“WHO OWNS THE NORTH?!!!” Great Jon boomed as he threw his entire weight into one of the Others before and beheading another Other with his axe.

“STARK!!!”

His Greybeard Uncles answered as their obsidian blades clashed with the Others as they turned from their circle. Arya and Benjen charging at them. Benjen’s sword meeting an Ice Spear before parrying and cutting at the neck. The Other he had knocked over had got back up, thrusting his spear towards him. Great Jon deflected it with force, sending the freezing cold spear vanish out of his hand and cutting the black brother’s head off before it could be raised again. The Other’s face remained emotionless as a new spear began to form out of its hand. Umber didn’t give it the chance as his blade stabbed through its forehead, quickly proceeding to gut another to in succession. Umber quickly turned and engaged another two foes that were trying to get behind Arya as she effortlessly ducked and stabbed her dagger into one of the Others in front of her. Great Jon Umber put his sword in front of a spear and pushed it back onto the Other with all his might as Arya Stark turned and put a dagger into its thigh and killing it.

The Great Jon grinned at the young Stark woman as the two started to cut down the rest with his uncles and her uncle.

“My father always said Umbers were giants!” Arya shouted as they all tore through them.

“So, did mine!” Benjen replied as they joined up with the Direwolf and her pack, once again dealing with only Wights.

The Umbers all grinned as the group tore into the Wights. As Great Jon tore through more corpses than he could count, he could see that the Northmen were doing well as they hacked their way through. The archers had stopped sending arrows into the fight now with the First Men and Women in the thick of battle but it was mattering less and less. They had evened the odds and were starting to overwhelm the dead despite their own losses. He could see Maege and Tormund fighting wildly as clansmen covered their sides. Skagosi were pushing further on behind the giants as they kept Wights off giants that were fighting dead ones. We’re fucking winning.

And then he heard two large roars from above. Looking up he saw two large Dragons, one black and Green as they came from the West.

“DRAGONS!!!!!!!!!!!!” Great Jon boomed angrily.

Arya

“GET BACK TO THE WALL!!!!” Maege yelled as she clubbed another Wight into the ground.

The Dragons were here and that meant fire and blood. And death for everyone if they killed the Others. Arya and the Northmen started to run as the dragons flew over, roaring and breathing fire onto the battlefield. The bursts of dragon fire lit up the night, revealing the carnage that the dragons were creating on the battlefield. Wights were turning to ash and the Others that had attempted to throw spears melted before them. But they weren’t the only ones getting hit with the flames. The Northmen were too. She could hear her people burning to the flames. It was horrific.

“FASTER!!!” Arya yelled as her and Nymeria ran forward towards the embankment. The Giants were grabbing as many of the living beside them as they ran to the wall. Hugo Wull and Torren Liddle were holding off the Wights that were still attacking until another bout of flames came, turning them to ash alongside a giant that had grabbed Duncan Liddle. They’re killing everyone. Arya thought with panic as the flames consumed another group of Wights and Northmen alike.

Every burst of flames brought more death to the battlefield as she ran in horror. She could faintly see thousands of arrows attacking the dragons to try and stop them from the wall. Some had clearly hit by the pained roars from above. It didn’t stop them from attacking them below. They weren’t targeting the wall thankfully. Maybe the archers can down one. Arya hoped as she heard another pained roar from a dragon as it circled over them.

“WE’RE GETTING CLOSER!!!” Great Jon Umber boomed as they made it up to the embankment. Arya stopped on the embankment with her Uncle as her people kept running to get behind the embankment away from the flames. She could feel the heat clashing with the cold as more flames engulfed the battlefield. Giants and Umbers were running backwards and forwards to grab as many as possible in between bouts of hellfire. Arya couldn’t tell who had died and who lived as her people kept running. Thousands had been killed. More from the flames than the dead. Then she saw Maege and Tormund holding an injured Alsyane and SIgorn as they ran towards them. They were all bloodied and bruised from the battle and were tiring. Wights still chasing at them that hadn’t been burnt. Arya and Nymeria were already down the embankment with Benjen and Morgan Liddle by her side as they ran to help them. Benjen grabbing Sigorn and putting him on his shoulders whilst Morgan did the same with Alsyane. Tormund and Maege both turned to fight the Wights that had come from behind. Arya slashed at the incoming Wights with them. They were all fighting sluggishly now having fought long through the night. The heat of the flames was no help at all.

“DRAGONS AND THE DEAD ARE NO MATCH FOR A MORMONT AND A GIANTSBANE!!!!” Tormund and Maege almost said in unison as they fought together, trying to pull back.

Another volley of arrows had hit the dragons, forcing one to fly back westward whilst the black dragon stayed, roaring more angrily than before. The Flames of it seemed to get hotter as it raged at a large arrow striking into its scales. The flames were coming closer towards them.

“WE NEED TO GET BACK!!!” Maege roared to the few survivors left on the field. The survivors started to scramble whilst Arya, Maege and Tormund held what Wights left back. A Wight on the ground clawed at Tormund’s leg got sending him to the ground as he stabbed it in pain. Maege bolted forward to bring him up just as the flames hit. Arya screamed as she watched them burn into ashes, nothing but their armours still staying together. Arya and Nymeria started to run back with the last of the survivors. Arya daren’t look back to see if any Wights or Others were following. She imagined that they were either all dead or had ran. The dragons haven’t gone to Jon though so we aren’t doomed. Arya thought as she ran on, Nymeria ahead of her. Then a volley of arrows struck from above, making the dragon roar even more. It looked demented to Arya as she looked up to see it swooping downward and bursting flames ever closer.

And then she felt searing pain as the flames hit her before she could reach the embankment, dropping Needle to the ground. Time seemed to slow as the fires consumed her body and melted her. Arya screamed as she fell to her knees in the flames. She screamed until the flames took her body, leaving nothing but a charred corpse and needle behind.

The surviving Northmen all looked in horror at the burnt battlefield, almost in silence. The Dragon following the other back West. Benjen was screaming, having been held back by The Crowl and Liddle as he tried to save his niece. But it was too late for that. Arya was dead.

Nymeria whimpered as Arya had fallen, feeling every bit of pain as their minds joined together. Nymeria howled mournfully into the sky as what was left of her pack. My body is gone. Arya whimpered as she and Nymeria became one and the vengeful cries of First Men and Giants flooded the world.

Jon

The pain that came from the Crow’s voice blurred Jon’s vision. Though it cleared as quickly as it blurred, leaving Jon with a different view to the one he’d left behind. They were in the same snowy Godswood but instead of the mass of dead bodies and his allies, there was nobody. Nobody but the Three Eyed crow sitting by the Weirwood and a man with a bright blue eye before him. It didn’t take time for Jon to realise that this was the Other that he had fought with. Jon could see what he had done, looking at battered and broken man with cut wounds across his body and an eye that was completely gone. He was looking at both Jon and the Crow darkly as he stood in pain.

“I never forgot the pain when the Crow entered my mind the first time. I’d hoped to kill you this time.” The First Other said angrily.

The Crow didn’t look perturbed by the comment. Not an emotion playing across his dead brother’s face. “And here we are again to remake the pact that was broken.”

The First Other scowled as he turned his full attention to Jon.

“You have the same look as your ancestor. Grim and Savage. I’m surprised you haven’t turned that to the Crow. I can see that body he has taken is Stark too. Does it not make you vengeful that he took your kin from you?”

Jon snarled at the Other, gripping his throat before he could react.

“He wouldn’t have had to become that if you didn’t break the pact.” Jon growled darkly.

The Other couldn’t respond as he gripped harder. Jon only let go when he saw the fear in the blue eye, letting him go only then.

The Other took a large breath once Jon released him. “I did break the Pact. I didn’t keep to the Lands of Always Winter, I made new kin from Craster’s sons and I went to kill every last of the living. But your people broke your side of it too. You forgot us. You thought us all dead and let your strength drop at that Wall. You forgot what deterred us. I was tempted to strike a few centuries past but the dragons came, the enemy I never knew I had until I felt their presence.”

“And then they fell to almost nothing.” Jon finished.

The first other smiled darkly. “A perfect storm. My ancient enemy of man forgetting us and the eternal enemy I never knew almost dead. What better way to turn everything into eternal cold?”

The North Remembers was another warning like our words. Jon thought as he listened to the Other speak.

“Both sides have broken the pact then by your eyes?” The Crow asked the Other.

The Other nodded with a scowl.

“Then terms need to be made so this pact lasts on both sides.” The Crow said simply

“Aye, I won’t have my people slaughtered to this again.” Jon agreed.

“What terms does Light Bringer want to make with the Others?” The Crow asked him.

Jon hadn’t expected to be called that. Though the Crow had spoken of it when Sam had asked about Stannis’ sword. “A name coined for Brandon the Builder or Azor Ahai as the Red Priests call him. He brought the dawn and light so they called him that.”

“The Others weren’t seen for thousands of years. The memory of man doesn’t last that long. I would have some of your kind come to the Wall once a decade as a reminder to us that you live beyond the Wall.” Jon said first.

“Either myself or one of my kind will appear once a decade. Will the people that have lived on the Wall threaten us on our march?” The Other responded.

Jon shook his head. “Nobody will live beyond the wall anymore. All of the First Men and Women are of the North. If there are any still left beyond the Wall, I will send rangers to collect them. Only rangers will be beyond the Wall and. Or my banners if you break the pact.”

The Other nodded though much more grimly. “You would cripple any army I could make against you and your descendants. Though if you break that it will not matter.”

Jon growled at the Other. The Other stepped back slightly.

“Nobody will be beyond the wall to increase your armies or people but I want you back in the Lands of Always Winter except for once a decade so you’re as far from the North as possible.” Jon added.

The Other looked coldly at him as he spoke “And what guarantees will I get that you remember the pact besides our appearance once a decade?”

Jon looked hard at the Other. “The Watch and the Wall will be fully armed with what can kill you at all times. It will be fully manned to restore the magics of the Wall. And the First Men will all come on your arrival each decade as a reminder to ourselves as well as the Watch.”

“I believe those to be fair terms.” The Crow said.

The Other smiled grimly. “Fair terms for between man and Other. But no reference to the dragons.”

The Crow seemed displeased. “It is impossible for Ice and Fire to treat like this.”

“But what will the First Men do to assure the dragons don’t come North?” The Other asked.

Jon growled at the Other. I know well enough about the dragons. They were only three according to the Crow. The Crow informing him of one of the Targaryen dragons dying had been a small relief to Jon, meaning there was one less to deal with and only two that were a problem. Dealing with them was still a problem he needed to sort out. They can die but I need to finish the plan properly. Jon thought as he spoke.

“I will deal with the dragons before the end of Spring and Winter is over. I have a plan to deal with them so neither side goes extinct and dooms us.”

The Other scowled. “That’s not good enough.”

Jon knocked the Other into the ground as his growl grew louder. “It is for now. You will agree with this pact between human and other or I will kill you and have one of your people decide.”

“You would weaken us more by doing that.” The Other spat fearfully.

Jon snarled in response. The Other looked at him until he offered his hand.

“Fine. I agree to the pact. But I will return to know of what you have done with the dragons.” The Other said forcefully.

Jon nodded as the two turned to the Crow.

“The terms of the pact have been agreed then. Place a hand on the Heart Tree.”

The two placed a hand on the Tree. It pulsated for a moment and Jon felt a small bit of blood leave his hand.

“It is done. The pact has been remade. The Old Gods have viewed it and will remember as will I. Both sides will hold to the pact. If it is broken then war will come until a new one is forged.” The Crow said simply.

There was a silence before two large guttural roars could be heard. They’re here. The Other looked angry.

“The Dragons are here! My people must kill them!”

“Your side will lose and doom everyone to fire.” The Crow said with a small hint of nerves. If either side wins we’re fucked.

Jon grabbed the Other again. “NO!! YOU WILL RUN AS FAR NORTH AS POSSIBLE AND THE FIRST MEN WILL DEAL WITH THEM!!”

The Other looked afraid of him and nodded.

“You will return when the King of Winter solves the problem of the dragons come Spring.” The Crow commanded.

His words held power, bringing them back to their last moment in the dark with Jon holding Long claw and an obsidian dagger to the Other’s throat. He could hear the roars in the area of the army. That got the Wolfblood pumping hard. Jon glared at the Other. He got up slowly and started to run with his brethren following. Jon turned to his own forces.

“GET TO THE HORSES NOW!!!!!!”

Jon rode hard with the men back to the battlefield with Ghost and the wolves running as fast as the horses. He could see short bursts of dragon fire along the way The Dragons were here and that meant they could cause the end of everyone. I’ll kill them if they’ve doomed us. Jon thought angrily as he rode hard to the battlefield. The closer he got the more he could smell smoke and ash on the cold winds. Ghost and the wolves were sniffing warily as they gradually approached.

“Burnt Corpses.” Artos and Cerwyn both said grimly.

Jon spurred his horse on faster at the words. Dragon Fire and roars of fury and pain consumed the night. Jon was oblivious to it. I need to get to my people. I need to get to Arya. It was all Jon could think of as he rode faster and faster. Soon the roars and flames had stopped as they got closer. The smell of burnt death on the cold winds did not dissipate though. Only getting stronger. Ghost had got ahead with the pack so Jon saw through his eyes. Ghost was at the battlefield.

It was worse to smell through Ghost’s eyes. The smell of thousands upon thousands of burnt, charred and ashen corpses. The sight of it was worse. It wasn’t just Wights. It was his own men and women by the thousands. Looking up he could see the faint outlines of the soldiers from atop the wall. Numbers looked the same but Ghost could feel the anger and loss on them both from above and on the ground… Ghost ran further onwards, seeing the survivors that had been fighting on the ground. There had been Twelve Thousand Men and women fighting on the ground whilst Thirteen Thousand were garrisoned above the wall. The survivors that were walking on to the battlefield barely numbered a thousand and ten of the twenty giants he had on the ground. Ghost ran further onward, the Northmen seeing the wolf and its pack.

A circle was formed before him. Ghost could sense Nymeria and what was left of her wolves with them as he bounded forward. He could feel the rage and sadness growing as he got closer. Among the group was great Jon Umber, Morgan Liddle, Donnel Flint Alsyane Mormont and Sigorn of Thenn. But Ghost’s gaze was on Benjen’s. His face completely grief stricken as he looked down at a charred corpse with Nymeria by his side. She was whimpering at the body before turning towards Ghost and nudging her head at his. Looking into the eyes he could see pain and mourning. And below him was a blackened Needle.

Ghost howled in pain as Jon wept.

Full names of who died will come in time.

Any questions, feel free tae ask.

I will also note that I had this planned pretty much fae the start. Not a reaction tae the show even though I've said my piece on it. I had played about in my head wae which stark should die in this fiction. I'd thought about val and rickon being burnt at Winterfell fir Jon and Arya tae come back tae. I thought about Sansa getting killed accidently in the South wae Daenerys and Aegon thinking she was going tae war wae them. I thought about Jon dying by dragons and Arya going fir vengeance. but Arya was the most powerful in my eyes. Jon died because he wanted tae save his sister and came back tae wage war fir her. It had tae be her in this one.

And the arrows did damage tae the dragons.

Daenerys meets Jon next chapter btw

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 29: Signed and Sealed in Blood

Hope you all enjoy! Feel Free tae comment as always!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Daenerys

Her Dragons being harmed had forced her to leave the battlefield. Whoever was on the wall had thought her a threat and had volleyed arrows at them repeatedly. Some arrows had been much larger than she had thought possible as they jammed into Drogon and Rhaegal’s scales. She had heard their pain as they were struck by them. They will beg for forgiveness once they realise that I saved them. Daenerys thought as she inspected Drogon and Rhaegal from the ground, seeing the many arrows that had managed to pierce the scales, mainly the larger arrows. Aegon was also doing the same much to her annoyance. Not a single arrow could have killed my husband. Daenerys thought with displeasure. It didn’t matter. She would find a way to get rid of him once he gave her an heir. Daenerys turned her attention back to her children. They had fought with a fury and passion she had never seen as much. The fires had seemed to burn all the hotter as they consumed the Wights and Others before them. She had revelled in the power of it as she brought light to the darkness. It was what she was meant to do. Be the Saviour of this realm. And that was what she had done. Daenerys doubted that any of the Others had survived despite the dragons’ need to keep fighting, only stopping when the arrows had hit much more frequently.

“The Northmen that were here will come to bend the knee now that they have been saved.” Daenerys said confidently as her group of Unsullied, Iron Born and small number of Dothraki prepared.

The Dothraki were looking at their breath strangely as they saw their breath, something they’d been doing since reaching the North. Most of her army had been shivering uncontrollably on the journey by sail and upon landing. Some had even died from the cold as they rode from West Watch.

“They will dear wife. We saved them and our realm from the dead.” Aegon said smiling as Reach Men prepared near Rhaegal.

I saved the realm with dragons I birthed. You simply stole my child as he betrayed me.

Daenerys smiled anyway at her husband. The two kissing as a show for what Lords were present. He doesn’t have his Dornish whore to fuck here either. Only his rightful Queen as he should to secure my line.

“The men are all prepared Your Grace.” Randyll Tarly said to Aegon as he shivered.

They had brought Fifteen Thousand Men Up North by Iron Born ships. It was a relatively small part of her army but all they could do at such short notice and the Redwyne fleet not ready to join up with Victarion. It would be enough though with her dragons.

“Then let us ride to Castle Black. I imagine the false King will be there to bend to us in thanks.” Daenerys replied as she made her way back to Drogon, making her way up his scaled neck. She could still see some arrows lodged in along his back and side. Some had been removed already but it would take time to remove them all, much like with Rhaegal who had been hit as much. Daenerys could feel the pain of her children as they rose again into the sky. They were slower and lower as they flew over her army to where the battle had taken place. The fires had quelled leaving only the sight of burnt corpses on the ground as the cold snows landing on the field. Daenerys could smell the corpses even from above as she made her descent as her army formed in front of the wall. Daenerys could faintly see that the archers were still on the wall as dawn broke. It wasn’t bright enough to truly illuminate them. They weren’t firing now. They know better now that I’ve saved them, Daenerys noted as she landed behind her armies. As far away from the archers in case they tried something.

Daenerys smiled as she felt the power of her dragons landing on the ground; Drogon lowering her neck to allow her down. Rhaegal doing the same for Aegon. Her soldiers opened a line for her to walk forward. She ignored their shivering as she walked to the front, still warmed by her child’s body. Daenerys stood proudly at the front of her army as Aegon joined her to see the Northmen before her. There weren’t many on the ground. No more than a thousand by the look of it. To her shock she could see things bigger than men among them. Much bigger. All of them were staring at Daenerys, Aegon and her armies. They will come to me. Daenerys thought to herself. She was the dragon.

And sure enough, the Northmen did, walking slowly down the embankment and over the burnt, charred bodies. She could hear loud steps of the giants as they all walked forward silently. There was one man leading at the front of them, with two large dogs beside him. As they got closer, she realised they were wolves, one white as the snow with blood red eyes and the other grey and with golden eyes. Both as big as horses and more wolves behind him. What’s a wolf to a dragon? The Northmen were finally a few feet away from her forces. They all looked gore drenched as she looked across them. Men, women, wolves and giants all covered in snow, death and ash. Not a single one looked grateful to her. All of them were staring angrily at her. She could see the hate and contempt on their faces. I save you and you look at me like those corpses I saved you from?

Daenerys turned her gaze back to the Northman at the front of his rabble in Stark colours. The Bastard Usurper. He didn’t look much different to the other Northerners. He was covered in gore and snow, landing on his dark beard and shoulders. His face was stony. There was not an emotion on his face his grey eyes stared at her dragons behind the army then herself and Aegon intently. The Northman stood still until he unfastened his sword and handed it to a woman behind him before walking forward with the two wolves. More following alongside his host.

Daenerys and Aegon both smiled. He had disarmed himself and was wearing no crown. It was a good sign. The bastard walked slowly, stopping at the middle of the corpse filled battlefield. The Northmen and wolves were all eyeing them up silently. The Hulking giants were all wielding bows and clubs. She held back a scowl at them, remembering the larger arrows that had also pierced her children. Daenerys and Aegon both walked forward to the middle of the field with Jorah and her guards following behind them. The Targaryens stood silently, waiting for the bastard to bend. He stood looking at them icily. Aegon to her annoyance spoke first.

“Jon Snow, I Aegon of House Targaryen…”

Her husband didn’t get to finish his words as snarls erupted from the bastard and his wolves as the bastard’s fist connected with Aegon’s jaw, sending him to the ground. The bastard kneeled over her husband and started punching him repeatedly in the face, snarling viciously with every strike. She could see his face consumed with pure rage as he savagely beat her husband, snarling with every punch as blood splattered over the snow and his beard. Jorah and her guards went to get the bastard off him but the wolves and Northmen didn’t give them the chance. Two large Northmen cleaved two shivering Dothraki in half that had placed a sword at the bastard’s neck. And the woman that the bastard had given the sword to had put a sword to Jorah’s throat. The woman yelled at him with anger.

“KIN SLAYER!!”

It was almost drowned out by the wolves were snarling at the guards, and the giants roaring at the armies. Her forces couldn’t charge or she would die.

Daenerys was about to shout before the bastard came up rapidly after smashing Aegon’s head on the ground and picked Daenerys up with a hand to choke her. Daenerys squirmed in his hand as she struggled for breath. Her men unable to do anything without killing her and dragons too far behind. He strangled her like that for a moment, snarling angrily with hate filled eyes and teeth bared with Aegon’s blood dripping off his chin. He only let her go when the grey wolf nudged him and he stopped, putting her down as he growled. Daenerys took a gasp for breath, more than ready to shout for her dragons to burn through her armies in front to burn him as well. But the bastard and his northerners were too near her. And she remembered the burn on her back. The bastard stopping had finally allowed her forces to move, bringing more guards to her side and to take Aegon’s groaning form behind the lines as the bastard and the Northmen formed up with the wolves.

Daenerys looked at him with unimpressed, angry eyes. He was looking at her with fists clenched and feral growls escaping his lips. A savage. His people will be grateful when I get rid of him and these followers of him.

“You struck your Queen!! A member of the house that saved you!! Is this how you treat your rightful Queen?” She shouted with force, her dragons roaring behind the army in emphasis.

The Northmen behind the bastard started to yell and snarl in response.

“YOU KILLED THOUSANDS OF US!!!”

“YOU BURNT OUR PEOPLE!!!!”

“YOU ALMOST DOOMED US!!!!”

“THE NORTH REMEMBERS ARYA STARK!!!!”

The final chant started to repeat itself along the thousand northerners, spreading to whatever men were up on the wall in response to her dragons’ roars. Then they all went silent as the bastard’s hand rose, leaving only her dragons and the sounds of her shivering army.

“Leave the North now.” The bastard said with a low, menacing growl.

Daenerys looked at him with contempt. “Not until you bend the knee.”

The Northmen behind him answered instead. “WE KNOW NO KING BUT THE KING IN THE NORTH WHOSE NAME IS STARK!!!”

The bastard growled again. “Leave the North Now.”

Daenerys stood her ground as she stared contemptuously at the savage. The Northmen were still chanting angrily.

“WE KNOW NO KING BUT THE KING IN THE NORTH WHOSE NAME IS STARK!!!”

“THE NORTH REMEMBERS ARYA STARK!!!!”

“WE KNOW NO KING BUT THE KING IN THE NORTH WHOSE NAME IS STARK!!!”

“THE NORTH REMEMBERS ARYA STARK!!!!”

“WE KNOW NO KING BUT THE KING IN THE NORTH WHOSE NAME IS STARK!!!”

“THE NORTH REMEMBERS ARYA STARK!!!!”

Daenerys looked past the bastard usurper.

“You stand behind the usurper now! You will bend when you starve!!!”

And with that Daenerys turned. Walking through her lines back to Drogon. If she attacked now those arrows would hurt her child more. She would do what was advised by her council instead. She would starve the North from Southern foods. When her subjects tired of the bastard being unable to feed them, they would revolt against him. They would kneel to her to get rid of him and gain her mercy. I’ll send word in a year offering them a chance to bend. Daenerys thought kindly as she mounted her dragon; flying off west to her fleet as the army began to follow on the ground. She looked down on the Northmen as her army left. All of them looking up. They would bend before the spring. Or they would burn after it. I am the blood of the dragon.

Shorter chapter! Daenerys and aegon got less than deserved but fir now Jon held back because he didnae want his forces on the ground dead. That being said he lost control when near them. Was very lucky they were too close and that would mean their deaths if the host daenerys brought tried anything. And the archers had hit which is why she held back after flying off.

Reactions tae the events at the wall come next.

If you have any questions ask as always!

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 30: The Cold Winds of Winter

Hope you all enjoy! Feel free tae comment as always!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Sansa

Word had come to the Vale of Daenerys Targaryen’s “victory” in the North against the Others by raven. The parchment had spoken of how House Targaryen had defeated the army of the dead with fire and blood, ending the threat beyond the Wall. It had spoke of how the Northmen refused to bend despite her acts as their “saviour” and that by Royal decree no Kingdom could trade with them until they bent the knee.

Sansa knew those words to be a lie. She killed Arya. The three words that her brother had written. Words that Jon would never lie about. Words that made her weep alone through the night as Brienne guarded her chambers. The Dragons had killed my sister. And it’s my fault.

Sansa had worried ever since meeting the Dragon Queen. She had hoped that the King and Queen would see the Wights as an unintended ally. A way of weakening the North or at best removing them from the game so the Targaryens wouldn’t need to go North and Jon and Arya wouldn’t have to fight on two fronts in Winter. She had heard enough about how the Queen had abandoned Astapor and Yunkai to ruin from Baelish whenever he talked about something beyond Westeros.

It didn’t matter what she had planned though to keep the dragons from going North in winter. They had done it and took her sister away from her. They had taken her away from her with fire and blood. They’d taken any chance of Sansa being able to tell her that every word she said at Moat Cailin was a lie. That she wasn’t betraying her family, only keeping the vultures away from them. She’d died believing I’d abandoned them. It was a horrible thing, knowing she was gone. Knowing that she didn’t get to live long after surviving whatever hells she had. And they’ve taken her from Jon. Whatever devastation Sansa felt for her sister as she mourned would be worse for Jon. They were always close from the moment that Arya had been born. And the way she had seen Jon at Moat Cailin with her late husband and Baelish… Not even dragons will stop him from doing worse than what he did to my ignorant fool of a husband. The thought of the lengths Jon would go to avenge another pack member made Sansa shudder. She’d heard what he had done to the Iron Born and Boltons for killing Robb, Bran and Rickon. He’d brutalised her husband for the crimes he had done to Sansa. He And now he was a lone wolf without a pack. He wouldn’t stop and neither would the Northmen behind him. And Neither will I.

She had called to meet with Brienne once she had regained some level of composure, a week after the news. Brienne sat opposite her, waiting patiently. She was the only one aware of what had been sent by raven until the Vale was informed. Sansa looked at her calmly.

“Lady Brienne, I have a task of you. Something that I can’t do personally even though I want to.”

“Whatever my Lady commands.” Brienne replied quickly.

“I need you to go North and speak with my brother on my behalf. I want to know everything that happened beyond the wall and what he plans so I can prepare.” Sansa said simply.

Brienne was silent for a moment before replying. “Do you think he will trust my presence? The Northmen might think you’ve sent me to kill him for killing Lord Arryn.”

Sansa curved her lips slightly. Brienne was aware now of Lord Arryn being someone Sansa had no feelings for. But Jon and the North didn’t know that.

“You told me of how Ser Jamie gave Widow’s Wail as proof of his word to the brotherhood. I would advise you do the same.”

Brienne nodded. “I will give him Oath Keeper as a sign of our word.”

Sansa shook her head. “No, you’ll be giving him a part of Ice. And he will use it.”

The Lone wolf dies but the pack survives. I won’t let you be alone Jon.

Tyrion

Looking over King’s Landing as it snowed lightly was a new sight for Tyrion. Winter had truly come for the realm. And now food stores will be another problem to add the list. Tyrion thought to himself as he looked over the city with Varys.

“It’s a shame snow isn’t a purifying thing like in the songs but the warning the Starks always say. It would be so much nicer to look at if it wasn’t something that made food so scarce.” Tyrion said wistfully as he took a drink.

Varys sighed. “Why do I think that no Lords in their halls will be the ones to starve? Food will be expensive but still acquirable for you. It will be the smallfolk that suffer. Unprepared Lords will not have enough stores for all of them. You may feel yourself get a bit skinnier but you’re likely to live through it.”

Ah, the not so subtle reminder that Varys serves the realm not his own self-interest.

“You are a Lord as well Varys. You may be a Eunuch of low birth but a member of the small council nonetheless. I imagine you will survive winter as well unlike many of the smallfolk that you speak of.” Tyrion reminded Varys.

Varys smiled. “Perhaps. But I still serve them.”

“And does supporting the murmurings of a faction to remove our Queen and her dragon serve the realm?” Tyrion asked dryly.

You serve yourself like everyone here friend. From the Martells and the throne all the way to myself and having the Rock and a position I deserve that I intend to keep.

“A bold comment my Lord.” Varys responded softly.

“A true comment. Though one I can’t act on unfortunately. They are only murmurings. Besides, I wouldn’t have anyone I like to drink with without paying for whores and I won’t be able to do that as much once the King and Queen return.”

Varys nodded. “And perhaps they will return with peace. It will temper those murmurings.”

Tyrion laughed. “But not stop them.”

Varys chuckled faintly. “No, they will not.”

The game always plays. I just have to manage what pieces suit myself best as Lord Lannister and take away any that end me. The two returned to a comfortable silence as they watched the snow before the sound of dragons over them. The Targaryens had returned. Maybe they have returned with my gold. Tyrion thought wryly as a black crow landed above the balcony.

They hadn’t. What was expected to be a way of returning the North into the realm by saving them had failed. He only needed to look at Aegon’s broken face, the Queen’s bruised neck and the murmurings of Northern savages with wolves bigger than horses and creatures larger than men to know that it had failed. As to why had been a different matter. Those that were blindly loyal and oblivious to the finer details had said that the Northmen were ungrateful and would bend after starving, parroting the words of Daenerys Targaryen and Aegon once his jaw had healed enough to speak. Others that were a bit more observant in their time beyond the wall and spoke of things that had worried him. Randyll Tarly had mentioned the Northmen’s cries of thousands being burnt by the dragons. And Jorah Mormont had told them why the King in the North that had stolen from him had beat The King ugly. “The dragons killed Arya Stark.”

It was the first time he had heard fear in the gruff Northman’s voice.

Tyrion had not met the young Stark girl, neither at Winterfell or the Capital. She was the girl that everyone had assumed to be dead. Even Father couldn’t find her, replacing her with a fraud. She was bad now and that didn’t bode well for the Targaryens. It had alienated the North for now and had anger the King in the North. One only had to look at the King’s visage to know that; more scars, broken bones and less teeth from one savage beating than any battle that Aegon had fought in. It spoke volumes of the hatred the King in the North had for them; willing to fight regardless of the threat of dragons. The solemn boy that went to the Watch is dead. Tyrion had realised. The court spoke confidently of starving them, seeing the chances of the Northmen bending and Jon Snow killed by his own men during the winter being high. The ones that knew of the North’s history had thought otherwise, instead advising to prepare for a war come Spring when the Northmen didn’t have winter to deal with. Tyrion had agreed with them. The Starks are known for their warnings of Winter. They’ve survived them for 8000 years after all. And they’ve went to war over Stark girls twice before. A dead one will be worse.

The thought of a war with the Starks was worrying. They had won once in Robert’s Rebellion. And they had come close when it was just the North and Riverlands against Tywin. When that war came it would most likely be the North, Riverlands and Vale fighting against them. For all that Sansa Stark claimed she hated her brother when she came to court, I don’t really believe it. But that didn’t really matter now. War wouldn’t come in winter. Regardless of rumour that the North had giants. There were other matters that needed attending to. A Kingdom to run. Maybe I can put it back together before the spring.

Val

Val knew something was wrong when a guard had knocked on her door informing her that Rickon and his Direwolf had been spotted running into the Godswood in the dead of night. Screams and sobs apparently alerting them to it. Val had quickly got dressed and told the guard to get Old Nan and Osha. The old woman and free-folk had a knack for calming the lad. The three women had walked quickly into the night with the guards, leaving them at the entrance of the Godswood in case Shaggy decided he didn’t want them near Rickon. They could hear the flutter of wings, sobs and a low howl coming from the centre of the Godswood by the Heart Tree.

“The boy has had Green Dreams before. And every one has never boded well.” Old Nan whispered as they walked forward, torches lighting the way.

Val nodded, hiding her worries if that was the case. Has Jon fallen to the Others?

The sobs got louder as they found the boy and his wolf, lighting a couple of braziers to see better. She could see Rickon curled up with his wolf, sobbing into the great big Direwolf’s fur as it howled mournfully in the snow. He looked defeated. The face of the Weirwood looked almost as sad as the boy in the night.

“Rickon.” Val said softly to the lad as she put the torch down.

The boy looked up from his wolf, tears running down his eyes. They hadn’t frozen thankfully. He was lucky the Godswood was warmer than most, being on a hot spring. The yellow eyes of Shaggy turned to her. They looked as mournful as Rickon’s blue-grey eyes. Rickon started to sob more. She moved herself closer to him, knowing what the wolf had a temper like his master. Osha and Old Nan followed suit, with Old Nan touching the wolf gently. The wolf seemed to still for her, allowing the two women to get close to Rickon.

“Did you see you something in your dreams at the wall little Prince?” Osha asked kindly.

Rickon answered it with a sob as he nodded.

“Stroke your wolf Rickon. Calm yourself before you speak.” Old Nan said calmly.

Rickon did as Old Nan said, running his hand through Shaggy’s fur as he started to breathe deeply. He did that for a few moments until his sobs turned to sniffles.

“What did you see at the wall?” Val asked quietly as she placed her hand to his face to wipe his tears.

Rickon stifled a sob. His eyes were wetter than the rivers. “Arya died. They burnt her and took her from me and Jon. She’s dead.”

Val hugged him as he started to sob again, one of his arms around her waist and the other at his wolf. The sounds of Rickon’s sobs muffled in the embrace but she could still feel the power behind them.

“She died by fire?” Osha asked quietly.

Rickon pulled away from Val as he started to sob louder. “Dragons flew and burnt her! I heard her scream as she died!!”

The Three women were silent at the boy’s words. The face of the Heart Tree seemed to become sadder as it watched over Rickon. The sobs and snarls of the Direwolf could be heard across the Godswood as crows flew into the air. Val wished these were nightmares but knew better. He’d seen Jon’s death, his brother Robb’s and his father before that. He had Green Dreams. A cruel fate for a lad when all it shows him is pain. Val thought as she sat on the floor of the Godswood beside Rickon as Osha held him. Old Nan started to sing softly to him as she brushed his head. A song about Theon the Hungry Wolf. They all stayed there through the night until Rickon had calmed enough for them to bring him back inside with the Wolf. Val and Old Nan closed the door quietly as they left Rickon in his room with Osha and Shaggy. Neither wolf nor free-folk willing to part from the now asleep Prince.

“The flames are a cruel fate. I have lost two children to that now.” Old Nan said mournfully.

“I don’t want his dreams to be true.” Val replied quietly. Jon’s died for her once. To lose her after thinking her dead so long will hurt him more than the pain me and Rickon feel.

Old Nan turned to her as she wiped a tear from her wrinkled face. “And we wish for winter to never come too.”

And Andals and Dragons will wish they had never come North.

“I want vengeance for this. I want blood.” Val said firmly.

Old Nan smiled ruefully. “Good. Wolves are at their most deadly when they want the same thing. I just wish I will live to see it as wolves rip them to shreds for my children. I hope the Old Gods grant me that one gift.”

“We will have justice for Arya.” Val affirmed. Come Home Jon. Return to us and the pack.

Ashara

Ashara hadn’t imagined the first time she would see her son would be with guards escorting her to his solar. But the news that had come from the Northern army had sealed that fate. Twenty-Five Thousand Northmen had gone to fight at the wall. Eleven thousand had died and Fourteen Thousand had come back speaking of them same thing with grief and rage mixed in their voice. Dragons. They had taken more friends and family than the Others according to the Northmen as they spoke grief and rage. And Arya Stark had been one of them. A procession led by Benjen Stark had brought her charred corpse into Winterfell. And it had turned all the Northmen silent. A silence Ashara hadn’t felt since Elia had died.

Her son hadn’t been there with his army or the procession. He had gone to Skagos. Only the tales of the King in the North came to Winterfell. Of the King that had beat back death and forged a pact with death only to have his sister ripped away from him. Tales of the Stark that beat the Dragonspawn of Rhaegar Targaryen ugly with his bare hands and almost choked the life out the Dragon whore that had birthed monsters. And the vow that the White Wolf would march South with the North behind him come Spring to drench the South in Dragon Blood as justice for the fallen Northerners. They were tales that made Ashara shudder as she overheard the hate filled cries of the Northerners. You’ve done something terrible Aegon.

Jon had returned a fortnight after the Northern army, coming from White Harbour with a Manderly, Skagosi Lords and a large pack of wolves; led by two Direwolves that were at either side of him. She’d seen him enter the courtyard from her window. His wife and cousin embracing him as the wolves howled mournfully. She hadn’t even seen that much of her son from there.

But now I will. Ashara thought as she entered the solar, guards waiting outside. Her son was sitting waiting. Very little of herself had emerged in Jon over the years as she looked at him. A little leaner than Brandon and a bit darker hair. But Jon’s appearance was not a Dayne one. It was the Stark one that she had barely been able to look at when he was born. The one that reminded her of flames and death. And Elia’s death that came because of it. Ashara thought as she looked at her son’s face. A face that would never have suited a Dayne name if Ashara had ever been able to give him once in the months after his birth. His thick beard didn’t hide the scars on his face, both new and old. It didn’t hide the stony and stoic face that he wore either. There was no emotion on his face as Stark grey eyes looked at her as she sat. Ned looked at me like that when he brought Dawn back and I gave him Jon. Ashara thought as she felt another shudder come to her.

She could feel the same silence that had plagued the courtyard when Arya’s body was brought home. Aegon couldn’t have done that. It must have been Daenerys. Ashara hoped as she looked down at the table, away from those grey eyes, seeing a crown of bronze and iron adorned with wolves. Nobody speaks of Jon wearing a crown. A King that didn’t need one is what everyone here says of him.

Then there was a thud as a thin sword was placed on the table beside it with a blackened hilt. It brought Ashara back to her son’s face. It was cold like the North.

“You have the Stark look. It hasn’t changed since you were born.” Ashara said carefully, unsure as to what to say to her son.

“Good.” Jon responded lowly, a deep growl hugging his Northern Voice. His gaze was fixed on her as his fingers ran over the sword and crown. That does not surprise me. I deserve that for leaving him.

“You need to understand…” Ashara began. Jon cut her off with a growl.

“I had made my peace with you when Howland told me what had happened. He told me of a broken woman that only had enough of her wits to know that she couldn’t raise me and that Ned Stark would regardless of the consequences. I understood that. And I made peace with it…” Jon said solemnly, face so like Ned Stark’s.

It erupted into Brandon’s in an instant as a snarl erupted and teeth baring. ‘But I will not make peace with the bitch that raised one of my sister’s killers at her tit and claims it to be saving the realm!!!’

I haven’t seen that face since Brandon hung. Ashara realised as she looked at the wolf blooded Stark before her. The savagery of a wolf was all over his face, mixed with pain in those grey eyes.

“Aegon wouldn’t have done this.” Ashara defended hotly, thinking of the King she had raised. He betrayed me but he must have been convinced by his wife and the Council.

Jon snarled again. “Like he wouldn’t betray you.”

Ashara didn’t like thinking about that. It must have been Daenerys. I can make peace between the two if I can convince him it was her.

“It was Daenerys that will have forced his hand. It was her that was last to leave the field according to you people!” Ashara replied quickly.

The snarl grew louder, echoing across the room as he stood up from his chair. “IT WAS TWO DRAGONS THAT KILLED THOUSANDS OF MY PEOPLE!!!! IT WAS TWO OF THEIR SPAWN THAT DEMANDED WE BEND AND CALL THEM SAVIOUR!!!! THEY BOTH KILLED MY SISTER!!!”

Her son’s rage had stunned her to silence. She remembered his father’s shouts for Aegon to come out an die. How he had cursed and snarled as he hung and Jon’s Grandfather burnt. Even Rickard had that same look on his face before the wildfire consumed him. It was of a wolf that would eat the world.

“You’ll doom yourself like this. Ned should have taught you better!” Ashara shouted back, hoping it would put some sense into him.

Jon’s face turned even more wolfish in that moment, a cold rage sweeping across his body.

“THE FATHER THAT RAISED ME WENT TO WAR FOR HIS SISTER!!! I’LL DO THE SAME FOR HIS DAUGHTER AND FINISH WHAT THE FATHER THAT MADE ME PLANNED!!!!”

Her son stood over her like that for some time, anger vibrating from his body. Then he calmed, returning to his seat as an icy face merged with the wolfish one. His grey eyes were still looking at her with hate. Could you not have tempered this Ned?

The two were silent, Jon’s hands were on the sword and crown. He wants a war with them.

“What are you going to do to them?” Ashara asked. They’ve all promised blood. I can’t stop this.

Jon stared at her and then the crown. “My brother died wearing that crown. I gutted the man that killed him and fed his head and blood to the heart tree.”

He stopped for a moment and growled. “I’ll do worse for taking my sister from the pack.”

Ashara felt herself shudder at her son’s promise.

“Two of your guards will be going home to Starfall. My cousin has given his support for House Stark in that scroll you brought for what he did to you. I will inform him of what I plan come spring.” Jon said briefly.

“And what of me?” Ashara asked.

“Your guards will take you to Castle Cerwyn or anywhere you want in the North. But I won’t have you near the pack.” Jon answered with a snarl.

Ashara stood up to leave. “Your Father died against Targaryens for acting foolish. Don’t doom thousands for something you can’t guarantee winning. Dorne lost thousands to kill one dragon.”

“The North Remembers Arya Stark.” Jon growled as she left the room, guards escorting her to her chambers.

He’s going to go to war for her. And I have lost both my sons. Ashara mourned as she felt the cold winds blow over her in the courtyard.

Hope you all enjoyed it!! Some POVs fir this were harder than others. There will be one more chapter before a time jump. And fir anyone that wants a list of names fir who died. That will come in the time jump. I have something planned in illustrating that.

And Ashara is free tae go where she wants in the North but Jon cannae look at her waeout getting angry.

Any questions, feel free tae ask.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 31: Predators

Hope you all enjoy it! It is a short chapter but it has tae be. I have an exam on tuesday so wanted something up before it.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Jon

Cannibal’s cave was dark and warm. And with every step onward it got warmer. His torch dimly lit the way as he went onward; walking over bones of men, women and animals alike. Jon could only see Arya’s charred body on the ground. I’ll slaughter them all. Her corpse burnt almost beyond recognition. I’ll rip their hearts out and throw them off the Wall. Only her grey eyes and Needle could be seen. I will drown them in their own blood. Another bone crushed under boots of Skagosi and wolves as they got deeper into the cave. I’ll break every bone. Nymeria nuzzled his hand. I’ll avenge you and make the Southerners never forget.

The crushing of bones was answered with a deafening roar, echoing across the cave as a burst of flame shot out of a tunnel in the cave. The wolf pack howled and snarled in response, echoing back towards the source of the flames. Another burst of flames came from the turning point. And then a bloodcurdling roar of pain. Jon walked forward with his wolves as the Skagosi watched from behind. There was another burst of flames coming from the right tunnel. And then another pained roar and shaking ground. There wasn’t another burst of flames after that, only pained screams. Jon turned into the tunnel, burn marks covering the wall and ash on the floor. Ghost and Nymeria snarled as they walked on each side of Jon. I will avenge you. The tunnel was short, taking them to an opening of the volcano and revealing what Jon needed.

Cannibal was larger than the dragons that their spawn rode, black as coal and with furious yellow eyes as it thrashed violently in the volcano, magma spurting along the walls below it. Its giant form was three times their size easily. It looked big enough to blot out the sun. Its scales looked thicker than plate armour and its teeth looked like Great Swords of Giants. Everything about the beast spoke of a savage. Something to be feared and avoided at all costs. The Skagosi were wise to stay away from this beast until now. But now it is needed. Jon looked right into the dragon’s eyes as it started to was its thrashing. Jon could see the pain in its yellow eyes as the Three Eyed Crow entered its mind from a Weirwood on Skagos. It was trying and failing to resist the Crow’s power. It didn’t take long for those furious yellow eyes to finally milk over. Jon understood that pain as the Crow did the same to him. It was a scratch compared to Arya’s death.

Once again, they were in A Weirwood grove. The Three Eyed Crow sitting by the Heart Tree, its face watching intently like the Crow’s. And before Jon was the Great Black Dragon as dark as night with yellow eyes as powerful as suns. It tried to breathe flames but the Crow’s power stopped that. The dragon roared in anger. It was snarling at him as its wings expanded. The beast was growling and roaring at him. Jon snarled back at it.

Cannibal roared at Jon and The Crow. “WHAT IS THIS SHEEP?!”

“An offer for you.” The Crow responded.

The black dragon roared more. “SHEEP ARE FOOD TO CANNIBAL!!”

Jon walked forward, snarling and growling in the face of the Great Black Dragon. “You will listen!!!”

The dragon roared again. “SHEEP THINKS HE HAS FANGS!! NOTHING TO CANNIBAL!!”

The Crow used its power on the dragon again, making it scream in pain, claws gripping into the ground. Jon jammed Longclaw into its foot. No damage happens in this place but pain can still be felt. The Dragon roared angrily as the crow started to speak emotionlessly.

“We have come to give you an offer. To make a pact between man and dragon.”

“SHEEP NOT EQUAL TO CANNIBAL!” The dragon roared.

Jon jammed Longclaw into the foot further before twisting as he removed it.

“You will stay away from the Wall or beyond it. You will stay away from the realms of Men and you will not fight the Others.” The Crow finished emptily.

The dragon seemed to laugh in its roar. “CANNIBAL NOT GO NORTH ALREADY!!! ICE NOT FOOD!!! CANNIBAL WILL NOT STAY AWAY FROM PREY!!!”

Jon stabbed longclaw into its foot again. Its towering body trembled with rage as it screamed. Jon growled.

“You will make this pact or I will cripple you.” Both in this realm and the real one. You only need to be alive to save the realms of men.

The Cannibal snarled back at him until another invasion of the crow made him roar in pain.

“AND WHAT DOES A SHEEP OFFER CANNIBAL?!!”

Jon looked at him savagely “I offer you prey. I offer you the kin you love to feast on. The dragons that gave you your name. I offer you a feast.”

Cannibal stopped roaring and thrashing. It brought its giant head down towards Jon, yellow eyes looking at him curiously.

“YOU OFFER KIN TO HUNT?!!!” The Dragon shouted, a hint of joy in his voice.

“Every dragon in this land in Spring.” Jon replied grimly. Feast on them until there is nothing left of Arya’s killers.

“And whatever ones that are beyond it until there are few. Then do it again when their numbers grow.” The crow added.

The Dragon’s mouth seemed to curve, revealing all of its giant teeth as a snort of smoke left its snout. Jon snarled back at it, never flinching as it circled him before roaring.

“PREDATOR OFFERS PREY!!! CANNIBAL FEAST ON KIN!!!”

And I’ll slaughter their spawn. Jon thought as they forged the pact, the world around them trembling as wolves howled and dragons roared. The North Remembers Arya Stark.

Hope you all enjoyed it. As you can see Cannibal has been given a pact. The next chapter will be when winter ends and Spring has come. if you have any questions feel free tae ask.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 32: Extinction

Hope you all enjoy! Sorry it was a bit later than usual, had an exam but it is done, finished ma bachelor's degree!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Asha

The winds are a little warmer. Asha noted as her ship sailed in view of Pyke. The winds and the waters had been getting a little warmer the past few months now. If only by the smallest amounts. It was still fucking cold on the seas and any fool that fell in them was still likely to freeze as he met the Drowned God. But a little less bite to the winds and waves meant that winter was soon to be over and the Citadel would soon send their ravens to announce Spring. Asha wasn’t sure the cold would ever leave her body though. It’s been fifteen years of this fucking cold. Not even dragon fire will warm me up. Asha thought angrily as her crew began to dock. Pyke looked no different than when she’d last seen it. Poorly maintained, walls crumbling and unrepaired since before the Greyjoy rebellion and tattered banners of House Greyjoy. A pale shadow in comparison to their ships when they weren’t depleted.

“Still a dour shit hole.” Asha muttered under her breath as she disembarked onto the dock, off to meet the other Iron Born that had been called to make preparations for the fleet against the North in Spring.

This was the first time Asha had been on Pyke since having to go and give support for her Brutish Uncle Victarion Greyjoy; the new Lord Reaper and Master of Ships. Asha could still remember the smug look on his face as he sat on the sea stone chair with Euron Greyjoy’s Valyrian armour adorning him, the Silence in his dock and the dragons in King’s Landing if any Lords or captains didn’t like him. Not there were many sadly. It made her glad that she didn’t have to stay on Pyke through the winter; instead living at the Ten Towers with her Uncle Harlaw and then becoming the Lady Harlaw after his death. She had been glad his offer still stood after refusing it before the Kings moot. It gave Asha ships and a richer island in the kingdom away from the Lord Reaper. Though I’ve still had to follow his orders. The Lord Reaper had been given leave to Reave as many Northern ships as the Iron Born liked throughout the winter on both the Western and Eastern Coasts. All as a way to keep any food from coming into the North.

A damned fool’s errand that had been as well. Asha thought smugly as she made her way into the castle and through the corridors. The prospect of reaving had pleased the Iron Born; they could take by the Iron Price and live by the Old Way. But Asha knew better than to reave the North. She could still feel ropes and chains that had bound her to her own ship in the freezing cold. She could still see those wolfish eyes at Deepwood Motte. That had been enough to hold back what captains would listen to her from the Ten Towers in joining the other Iron Born. Those captains had grumbled at first thinking that another Reader had become their Lady. But that gradually stopped over the years when more and more captains returned missing more than half their crews from a raid on the West Coast of the North; notorious for being without a proper defence. They spoke of giants walking into the sea and dragging ships onto the ground. Of Iron Born heads being put on spikes along the coast and wolves dragging gutted corpses to the highest hills and mountains as far from the sea as possible. And the ones that had sailed all the way to the East coast rarely come back. Especially after Victarion attacking a convoy from Braavos. Asha hadn’t heard of any successful attacks on the East Coast after that.

“I haven’t been here since the King’s Moot.” Sigfry Stone Tree cheerily pointed out as he looked at the dour corridors.

“I could have stayed from these halls a lot longer.” Asha replied, still annoyed to be in these halls.

“There was a time you wanted to sit on the throne here.” Sigfry replied with a wry smile.

“And that was a time when we might have had a chance to do better for ourselves. No reaving and getting nothing in return. Victarion’s stuck to my dead father’s plans and doomed us for it.” Asha shot back.

The Northmen will come one day floated in her head as she said the words. Sigfry didn’t notice the bit of fear that was in her eyes, smiling cheerfully instead.

“I guess that’s true. We’re still a poor lot. Reaving for Pine cones and snow hasn’t made these halls wealthy.” Sigfry replied wryly.

That brought a smile to her lips as her bannerman chuckled at his own words. He hasn’t even taken Pine Cones by the Iron price. Asha thought smugly as they entered the throne room. Her dullard of an Uncle was standing over a table, dressed in full armour, axe and dirk with his kraken helmet left on the sea stone chair as he looked at a map. There were other Lords and Captains surrounding the table as well. Victarion looked up at her and scowled.

“About fucking time woman.” Victarion spat as Asha took a place around the table, her captains in tow.

Asha scowled at her Uncle. “I was told to bring all my ships and that takes time. I did better than others. I don’t see Lord Blacktyde or Drumm here yet.”

Victarion grunted at her before looking at everyone else. “The Dragon Queen has started to prepare her fleets from the Greenlanders for when Spring comes. We’re to do the same and show them what true sailors look like when we invade the North’s shores and rivers.”

Asha looked around to see worry on few faces. Support from dragons makes them brave.

“I take it we’re hitting the western coast.” Lord Botley said.

“Aye but deeper. We’re going to hit everything on the West with the full fleet instead of just their coastal villages. I want Barrow town looted of everything and Deepwood Motte burnt to the ground. Make chaos for the Northerners before the Greenlanders get there. Split up whatever’s left of them from winter trying to drive us off.”

“Are we ferrying the Greenlanders in Reaper?” Lord Tawney asked.

Victarion nodded, “Aye, we’re going to ferry some in and take Moat Cailin again from behind and open the North up for the South. We’ll also be sending some up to Torrhen’s Square. We’re going to burn it to the ground and take every village surrounding it to the sword.”

“We do not sow.” Some of the captains said happily. Fucking idiots.

“The Northmen won’t fall for the same trick twice at Moat Cailin. The wolves will have it well guarded after what you did.” Asha warned.

“And they have taken ships from us in the War of the Five Kings and every time we’ve went raiding since.” One of her captains added.

Victarion laughed. “You think I haven’t judged what the wolves can do! That bastard is a menace but a one weakened by winter. He’ll have his forces further inland than out in the barren bogs where there’s no food or on the seas where they have no skill.”

You haven’t seen them fight in their lands Greyjoy. They breathe the cold like we breathe the sea.

‘And more importantly I have control over not just the Iron Fleet but the pathetic Greenlander one as well. Once their sails come North in Spring it will be a larger fleet than both of my brothers!”

Asha knew better as the Iron Born started shouting in agreement. He was right that the fleet would be larger with Greenlander ships as well. But the Iron Fleet hadn’t recovered as much since the wolves and Northmen. And over the years they had lost ships even if they were given wood from the South to replace them. The Iron Fleet was something close to sixty ships. And the ships of the individual lords had gradually depleted from the numerous wars since the Greyjoy Rebellion. From one hundred ships per island it was closer to forty with the amount of men they could field. And more will get destroyed for fucking Pine Cones. Asha thought as she thought of the two hundred ships docked at Pyke.

“My ships will head for Flint’s Fingers if you wish Lord Reaper.” Asha offered. I can sail back once the rest of the fleet fucks off inland and dies.”

Victarion looked at her darkly. “You were around your craven uncle too much before he died. Only ten of your ships will accompany you for that. The rest will join me and show you how true Iron Born fight.”

Asha nodded as the droning on of Iron Born went on. She wasn’t happy with this at all. It would not end well, even with dragons. More men would meet the drowned God than live to take meagre spoils from the North. If the wolves allow us to drown in the sea.

It hadn’t taken long for things to go South at Pyke; starting with the burning of their fleet. Asha had been woken in the dead of night to witness from her chambers the docks of Pyke and every longboat and war galley aflame from burning ships that had sailed in too quickly to be stopped. The Iron Born had all turned silent when they realised that truth as their ships burnt; trapping them on Pyke. It was a horrifying sight for an Iron Born to see the very thing that gave them strength burn away into nothing. Even the silence had burnt to Victarion’s rage; almost as powerful as the flames that dominated the night. Asha felt the same sense of dread from all those years ago attached to the prow of her ship.

Then the ravens started to flutter into Pyke. Ravens from Blacktyde, Old Wyk, Orkmont, Great Wyk, Saltcliffe and even Harlaw. All of them came with letters drenched in Iron Born blood. The wolves are coming. It told everyone on Pyke that there would be no help from their islands that they had sailed from for they had been taken by the sword. It told them that House Drumm and House Blacktyde would not join them for they had died by the wolves before getting the chance. It told them that the Iron Born would be alone on Pyke to fight the wolves. Victarion had sent ravens south of course as a call for aid to get the dragons. But even the ravens had turned against them, flying North instead of South.

Even the birds are afraid of the wolves. Asha thought angrily as she helped make preparations in Pyke which was clearly lacking in comparison to that of the wolves. It was clear to Asha that the wolves had been watching and planning this for some time to invade the Iron Islands. It wouldn’t be possible to burn their ships and massacre their islands without knowing when and where everyone was. The wolves had planned and spied on them with every one of the Iron Born unaware of it. And now I’m having to take orders from Victarion on how to prepare for a fucking siege. Asha’s advice on how to prepare had been repeatedly ignored despite being the only one that had survived a siege of the Northmen, even if it hadn’t been much of a siege and more a quick assault. Only her captains from Harlaw listened to her, the rest listening to her uncle; The man that was neither besieged at Pyke or Moat Cailin. He fucked off both times before he had to be under one. Asha thought bitterly as she looked around Pyke’s defences. Too many of them were out on the crumbling walls, not enough men in the castle could use a fucking bow and not enough food to last in a siege amongst a people that would squabble and kill each other as soon as the drink went.

“They’ve been spotted coming from the west!” One captain shouted behind her.

A few Iron Born shouted back at the captain. “How many?”

“Looks like fifteen thousand of them!”

Asha felt a sense of dread tingle down her spine again at the words. The wolves were here.

“We’re fucked, aren’t we?” Sigfrey asked as they boarded up a window.

Asha nodded grimly. “We’ll put up a good fight but we’re fucked.”

“But you don’t think it will be a long one.” Sigfrey stated bluntly.

Asha nodded. “It will be quick. If we’re lucky I’ll live to see uncle get ripped out of that Valyrian armour by the wolves. I’ll die happy seeing that.”

Sigfrey laughed darkly, still holding the cheer in his voice. “Well, we wouldn’t be Iron Born if we didn’t want to see some of our own die brutally! You may wind up the first Lady Reaper for all of two minutes when they come.”

Asha didn’t get to respond to that as guttural howls filled the air. I haven’t heard that since the Motte. Asha thought with a hint of fear as she moved to a vantage point to look at them. Asha could see thousands of Northerners below as the wolves marched ever closer, howls and skirling of pipes getting louder and louder as they approached. They’d already got through the first walls, Iron Born already dead on the ground before they could fire. Some of the banners raised above the army before her from when they had attacked her at the Motte. Umber, Mormont, Flint and Wull. There were also Banners of Glovers, Tallharts and Flints of the Fingers here in vengeance for what had been done in the War of the Five Kings. And above them all at the front was a single banner of a snarling Direwolf running a field. Here for vengeance for my brother taking Winterfell.

“We best get down to the hall. Your Uncle’s put Tawney in charge of the archers.” Sigfrey said as Asha tried to see where the King in the North and his wolf were below their banner. Where are those red eyes and wild eyes?

Asha nodded wordlessly as they made their way to the hall; Iron Born banging their axes and chanting with Victarion as he shouted.

“WE’RE GOING TO FUCK THESE GREENLANDERS AND THROW THEM INTO THE SEA!!”

“FUCK THE GREENLANDERS!” The Iron Born roared back.

“WE’RE GOING TO TAKE EVERYTHING FROM THEM BY THE IRON PRICE AND HAVE THEIR WOMEN AS SALT WIVES!”

Bullshit, I settle for killing some with my dirk before and not dying by wolf.

“WE DO NOT SOW!!” The thousands of Iron Born shouted as the gates opened for a charge.

Asha charged with them into the cold air as their axes raised in the air. It was a stupid attack rushing an army with no cavalry and a lack of archers behind them when they could have tried to make a proper defence. Asha looked up as she ran to see that the archers from Pyke weren’t doing any damage, arrows either missing their mark or archers being shot down onto the ground. It would only be their steel on the ground it seemed as they charged forward. Before her Asha could see that the Iron Born had met the wolves, clashing their axes into Northern shields. The Iron Born’s chants of taking by the Iron price were quickly replaced with screams as Northern axes and swords pushed forward; cutting down her people with no mercy. Asha could hear thousands of angry snarls as Iron Born forces were being cut down like they were nothing; the stark banner pushing further forward.

Victarion’s foolhardy charge quickly turned into a defeat as she watched Botley and a few Ironmakers get savaged by a tall Northman with thick red hair and a giant bead, and a young Umber bigger than anyone else with a Great sword. One of the Iron Born at the front started to run, being followed by a Mormont woman that jammed her mace halfway through his side.

“GET BACK!!!” Asha ordered as she started to run backwards, throwing a dirk into a Northman’s arm.

The Iron Born started to run with her back towards the gates of Pyke, wolves behind them as they chanted and howled.

“THE NORTH REMEMBERS!!!”

“VENGEANCE FOR WINTERFELL!!

“VENGEANCE FOR DEEPWOOD MOTTE!!!”

“VENGEANCE FOR TORRHEN’S SQUARE!!!”

“VENEGANCE FOR MOAT CAILIN!!!”

All were places of the North that the Iron Born had raided; their chants getting louder and louder as they ran behind them. Asha looked back to see more of her forces being dragged down into the ground by Northerners. It was turning into a massacre as Asha made it through the doors. Victarion was shouting orders for them to close them as fast as possible. The Direwolves didn’t let them as two ran in, tearing the Iron Born at the doors. limb from limb. Asha looked in horror at the two. One had the same colouring as the King in the North’s, thick white fur covered in Iron Born blood and haunting red eyes with an uncontained savageness. She could only tell that the wolf wasn’t the King’s due to its size, only that of a small pony. It wasn’t fully grown to the size of a large horse like its packmate with black fur and savage yellow eyes. Some Iron Born tried to attack the two large wolves, ending with their heads falling to the ground and blood spurting on the wolves’ snouts. The two wolves started to snarl loudly as Northmen flooded in to kill them all.

“Greenlander bastards!!!”

Victarion roared as he ran at the large Direwolf, axe aiming for the head of the giant wolf. The wolf didn’t even need to move as the axe met Valyrian steel and a snarl as vicious as the wolves before them. Asha recognised the sword an instant. The sword was the same bastard and a half with a that had cut through Qarl’s arm like it was butter at the Motte; only wielded by a different wolf. This one was younger with reddish brown hair, broader build and blue grey eyes. But the long face was there and the savagery was in his eyes. It was a stark, shouting with a loud guttural Northern accent.

“SQUID!!!!!”

The stark slammed his shield into Victarion’s Kraken helmet as he pushed the axe back onto her uncle with his sword. Victarion looked angry as the two fought. The large Direwolf darted into the chaos, savaging more corpses alongside its packmate whilst the Stark engaged Victarion. He was attacking her uncle as violently and as brutally as the wolves, dismembering and gutting any Iron Born that tried to defend the reaper as they engaged in combat. Asha turned her attention back to the fight that was before her as thousands of Northerners overwhelmed them, disembowelling her people with fury. Asha did her best, cutting down some Northmen before the woman in Mormont colours and bear furs arrived with a blood drenched mace in her hand. She looked similar to the one that had been at the Motte with brown hair, brown eyes, and big teats. This one’s eyes were fiercer and had a much sterner expression as she raised her mace with her powerful arms to fight her.

“Here I Stand Squid and Here you fall!!!” The Mormont screamed above the sounds of everyone else.

Asha’s axe just met the bear islander as the two started to fight. Both were quick as their weapons clashed with each other within the chaos, Iron Born numbers becoming less and less within the halls as more Northmen flooded in. The bear islander attacked her relentlessly as the two clashed with their axes. Asha could feel herself as she tried to break the woman’s defence. The two were roughly the same size but the Mormont was clearly the stronger than her as the mace wore her down more and more as Asha got pushed into a corner. Asha deflected another furious blow from the Mace as three of her crew tried to stab her from behind. Her crew’s attempt was answered with the White Wolf’s snarls and a growling young man with Stark grey eyes.

“AUNT LYANNA!!!”

Mormont ducked an axe and pushed forward as the white wolf and Stark tore through her crew. The Mormont grinned without even looking at the sight behind her and smashed her mace through her axe and then slamming the mace into her side repeatedly until she decided to smash the mace into her legs. Asha fell to the ground with blood spurting out of her mouth as the Mormont took another swing at her side, breaking more ribs. Looking around with blackening eyes, Asha could see not an Iron Born standing as the thousands of Northmen watched Victarion and the wild Stark fight.

The Stark was blood drenched and covered in gore but didn’t seem fazed at all as he snarled almost loud as the Direwolves. Victarion was fighting furiously against the Stark, trying to get through the wolf’s shield and sword to no avail. The Stark was getting blows in every time he struck but the Valyrian plate armour that adorned Victarion’s torso was preventing him from getting through. Asha watched the fight intensely as her wounds slowly killed her. The two weren’t letting up… not until the Stark lowered his shield. Victarion started to angrily attack at the new opening as he pushed forward but the Stark simply ducked and dodged before the axe could make its way into the opening. The Stark from a lower position slashed his sword through Victarion’s leg braces; sending her uncle to the floor as Blood spurted out of his lost leg. The Northmen started chanting.

“The Hungry Wolf Reborn!”

“Squid Slayer!!!”

“The Wild Wolf!!!”

The Stark grinned savagely as he slashed the other leg off as her uncle screamed. More blood covered the Stark as he thrust the sword through the small gap between the Kraken helmet and plate armour. The wolves howled and the Northmen started to chant.

“The Rickon!!!”

“The Rickon!!!”

“The Rickon!!!”

The chants were all that Asha heard before the Mormont realised that she was still alive, slamming her mace into Asha’s skull.

Hope everyone enjoyed! As you can see Winter has been fir 15 years and Rickon's killing squids. You'll find out more information as we go about the time in between. As you can see the squids have been reaving and have been preparing fir war.

Tyrion is next.

If anyone has any questions feel free too ask

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 33: Spring

Very sorry I am later than usual. Currently in Morocco atm so have been busy and lacking good wifi tae post. I will be more regular again soon so dinnae worry. Hope you all enjoy and feel free tae comment as always.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Tyrion

It was strangely refreshing to see King’s Landing free of the snow with only shit and blood in the streets again. You could see whose murdered corpse was on the road or which streets had no sewerage running down it again. Spring was finally here after fifteen excruciating years. No doubt ordered by his father who had most likely been made Hand to the Father to spite him and Aerys’ s children. But why do I still feel cold winds and ice down my spine? It wasn’t a hard question to answer really. Tyrion had seen the five war galleys that had been sailed and ditched in King’s Landing with inverted Greyjoy banners. Their contents had made a disgusting sight; three galleys filled to the brim with Iron Born heads and disembowelled torsos. Tyrion had vomited from the smell of it. The last two ships had been filled with the old crones of the Iron Born. The Last of the Iron Born. He had heard wails for sons and daughters that had been cut down fighting the wolves, their corpses either loaded into the galleys before him now or put on spikes across the Iron Islands. They had wailed of grandsons shipped off to the Wall and granddaughters to Bear Island to be turned into bears. And they had screamed every time they mentioned the wolves and how all they did was disembowel and behead them because “Squids are only good enough for dying by Northern Steel just like everyone else that wrongs the North.”

They had all slit their throats after that on the docks for everyone to see after saying that. The Unsullied hadn’t had enough time to stop them as the Last of the Iron Born fell dead in sight of every dock worker and passer-by. Tyrion hadn’t stopped feeling the Ice run down his neck since. He could feel it now as he sat at the Small Council table to discuss the war with the North. He didn’t doubt that this would be a tense meeting. He could feel the tension in the room already with only the councillors present. It would be a hard meeting. But when are they ever?

Tyrion’s work hadn’t been easy for the last fifteen years. Winter alone had caused problems for an unprepared realm that had focused on war and power plays over food stores. Only Dorne and the Southern most parts of the Reach had been untouched by the snow and had limited what food they could get from Westeros. That meant that to supplement the lack of food that could be grown they would have to get food from Essos. In one regard that had been easy. Meereen hadn’t suffered as much as the other cities Daenerys had “liberated” and the city was still terrified enough of the Dragon Queen that they provided some foods. But that was still not enough to feed the realm’s Lords and Knights which required other cities to trade with in the East. And all of them decided to band together behind the Iron Bank. That had been one of the worst missives he had received in his life. Trade would only come if they paid the Bank what was due. Six Million Dragons of fucking misery. Dealing with the Iron Bank made Tarly’s disputes with the Dothraki whenever they entered the Reach look tame. The Targaryens’ annoyance that the usurpers’ debts came to them because the Bank was smart enough to deal with the crown not the family name and the Bank’s power over food had forced tense negotiations; made worse by Victarion attacking a convey of Braavosi merchants ships that had been sighted on the East coast heading North. In the end they had got a deal for food but it had involved heavy taxes across the realm to pay instalments to the bank; already increased to support Daenerys’ armies and fill the royal coffers. Including my own Kingdom; not as much as that on the Riverlands and Vale but my gold mines are now empty paying a debt that we’ve only just paid half of.

The thought of his lost wealth had made Tyrion take another drink. He knew he would be needing more as soon as he saw his Queen and King enter the room. Daenerys’ face seemed to match the flames of her dragons as she strode in with a furious expression. Her husband’s face looked similarly angry if not worse but that might have just been due to the litany of scars across his face that made the King of the Seven Kingdoms look a lot less ethereal in beauty and less like his Father. Neither of them looked in a particularly negotiable mood as they sat down. At least they are in agreement instead of arguing over the realm and Aegon’s bastard sons and daughters with the Princess of Dorne.

The Queen didn’t give them the chance to mutter your Grace as she spoke demandingly.

“I want answers for how my Iron Fleet has been destroyed without us knowing!”

Tyrion sighed and took another drink as Varys answered calmly. “It appears your Grace that the Northmen have managed to take the Iron Islands by surprise. No word came at all to suggest this.”

Daenerys scowled at the Master of Whispers.

“And how does the Master of Whispers not know the goings on of my realm!?”

Her shout was a powerful one. And a very petulant one as Father would say though.

Varys sighed. “My little birds on the Iron Islands did not send any missives Your Grace. Nor were there any ravens from the Lords of an attack. And winter has been hard on my birds North of the Neck. Not a word has come from them in order for us to pre-empt this.”

“We know nothing of the North except for their dead.” Harry Strickland muttered.

Tyrion watched Daenerys’ skin flare at that comment; turning as red as dragon flame. It’s true though. All we know is who was killed by Dragons. Those ravens remind us of that much. It had started a year into winter when the Targaryens received ravens from the North. They had smugly expected it to be the Northern houses informing them they no longer backed the King in the North and had overthrown him. They had all been wrong. Every house in the North from Winterfell to Last Hearth and the Mountains to Skagos had sent ravens listing their dead, both low and high born from Daenerys’ “war for the dawn.” There were thousands of names that had come by raven, repeating every year of winter that passed and increasing both Daenerys and Aegon’s fury. The North Remembers Hugo Wull. The North Remembers Torren and Duncan Liddle. The North Remembers Tormund Giantsbane. The North Remembers Maege Mormont. The North Remembers Crowfood Umber.

The North Remembers Arya Stark. That one name out of thousands always came written in blood from Winterfell with Targaryen heraldry stamped upside down with a wolf snarling above it.

“They will all be dead once me and my dragons are done!” Daenerys screamed.

The small council had turned silent for a moment. Tyrion took another drink. How did I wind up in service to another Tyrant?

Aegon spoke slowly after his wife’s outburst. “How goes the invasion plans?”

Tyrion looked at them grimly as he ignored the click of Aegon’s jaw. “With the Iron Born Fleet, we’ll only have the Crown and Redwyne Fleet to bring the Unsullied into Moat Cailin. We also won’t have Iron Born to reave the West Coast either. The chances of us being able to open a gateway to the North for the entire army and to divide the Northmen are much slimmer.”

“They would still have been slim with the Iron Born. Reavers make useless soldiers. It is better that they are gone to no longer cause us any suffering.” Randyll Tarly said bluntly.

Daenerys didn’t seem to like that answer. But then again, she didn’t like the Warden of the South; a title given by Aegon and leaving the Tyrells only with the Lord Paramountcy.

“My dragons can burn where the Iron Born intended and all of the North if need be.” Daenerys replied heatedly.

“And they will die if you do. The Northmen were able to put arrows both normal and giant through your beasts’ scales and they will have prepared themselves to drop them from the sky from whatever keep in the North and we would lose any advantage over the skies.” Randyll Tarly responded simply.

Daenerys looked even more infuriated with Tarly.

“He has a fair point. I would not have our dragons at risk. Nor our armies when I command them on the field.” Aegon agreed.

You want to fight on the field to prove yourself a warrior as well as a King. You fought to take King’s Landing but the scars on your face make you look weak. Tyrion thought to himself.

“You speak like we should let them invade us Tarly?” Daenerys said darkly.

“I do Your Grace. The Northmen will be too secure in their lands. It is better to have them come South where we know the territory and it is easier to control supply chains. If we fight wisely on the field, we will be able to trap them and either beat them with our forces or your dragons. I would rather have control of the environment than march the might of the Reach into a land bigger than six Kingdoms and much more dangerous.” Randyll answered calmly.

“You would willingly risk our lands Tarly?” Garlan Tyrell asked angrily.

You’ll be fighting under Tarly in this war. How it must annoy you so.

“I would. The might of the Reach, Dorne and the Golden Company will be better suited in our own lands in the South against the Northerners and their allies.” Tarly responded emotionlessly.

“You still expect the Vale and Riverlands to side with the Northmen against dragons.” Aegon stated with another click in the jaw.

Tyrion nodded. “He’s right to Your Graces. As much as we’ve been unable to prove anything in regards to the Lady Stark. I imagine she or those allied to her will come to aid you. Whether they side with the Northmen is debatable. Lady Stark is more likely to see sense on fighting dragons.”

“The Northmen are willing to go South regardless of the lack of advantage in foreign soil if the Iron Islands tell us anything.” Strickland pointed out.

Do Giants make them that confident on felling dragons? All it would take is a surprise and the giants would be made

“You have such little faith in my reign Lord Tarly. You speak like all of the realm is in rebellion.” Daenerys said coldly.

“It is better you have less control than you have and more knowledge on your enemies. I wouldn’t be the only one slighted by your Dothraki Savages or Unsullied. One need only look at the Knights of the Bold in this city to see that.” Tarly said wisely.

My sister had the faith militant. I have a group of smallfolk in the city that want justice for Ser Barristan and all those killed and raped by Dothraki in the taking of king’s Landing. I’m not sure which is worse.

“The Bold are nothing more than looters who question the truth and the authority of the city watch. They wouldn’t dare if near my children.” Daenerys responded bluntly.

“And yet they have killed over one hundred Unsullied and the same in Dothraki in back alleys in the snow.” Randyll shot back.

Daenerys looked ready to attack the man and declare him a traitor. He was in a certain way, bringing one of Dickon’s daughters in contact with Aegon’s eldest bastard and having had his son marry a Hightower girl to secure power in the Reach. Tyrion doubted the man wanted to overthrow Daenerys but he wanted to secure the Reach and throne when she was dead. And have the Tyrells punished for being poor Liege Lords since Robert’s Rebellion. Aegon interrupted thankfully before she exploded.

“How many Kingdoms do you think we have Lord Tyrion?” Aegon questioned with a hint of distaste. He didn’t like Tarly’s words as much as Daenerys but hid it well behind all the scars. He needs to listen because he wants to prove himself on the field against Snow.

“I would say you have four not including the Crownlands. You have the Stormlands via the Company, Dorne through your relations, the Reach and the Westerlands.” Tyrion replied easily.

Though

“And what are the numbers?” Aegon asked.

“You currently have access to 8000 men and one hundred surviving elephants in Dorne. Whether that will increase from the Storm lords is debatable but they have been repeatedly spent since the War of the Five Kings and winter. It wouldn’t amount to more than six thousand after all of that.” Strickland said confidently.

Arianne answered her paramour sweetly. Like a Viper’s poison her words. “You will have Dorne and twenty-five thousand spears. I have sent Dark star South to muster them.”

“The Reach has some forty thousand men at the most. Winter and your Dothraki raiders have reduced our small folk significantly.”

Still the largest here though. Tyrion thought as they all turned to him. “The Westerlands number some ten thousand at the most. My forces have been hit very hard over the years.

I’m lucky to have that many these days. The Westerlands had been smashed by Robb Stark until his death and had been damaged further holding the reign together under Cersei. They had become even more diminished after Daenerys’ conquest.

“It is still more than the Northerners will ever have even without my 10,000 Dothraki and 3000 unsullied in the war.” Daenerys added confidently. Maybe if her Dothraki numbered 40,000 and her Unsullied 8000 like they once were I would be more confident. Winter and hatred of them has not been kind to them.

Randyll Tarly scowled at the mention of Dothraki. “With the Vale and Riverlands the Northerners are likely to still have some sixty thousand men. Potentially more if they use all of their reserves. We will have to plan accordingly.”

“Then myself and Lord Tarly will work on strategy whilst the rest of you muster our forces.” Aegon said before Daenerys could to her irritancy.

Daenerys look displeased as she stood. “You are all dismissed.”

And with the Dragon Queen left abruptly, followed by Aegon in the opposite direction. Tyrion stayed until there was just him and Varys. Tyrion took another long sip.

“That went better than expected.” Tyrion started.

“There have been worse Small Council Meetings. Though ones for war always feel particularly painful.” Varys replied calmly.

“Will your faction to remove Daenerys suspend for the war? I would rather have our forces united against the North.” Tyrion asked coyly.

He knew well enough that Varys had been stirring. He hadn’t been the one to start the Bold but had spread whispers that it was the Dragon Queen and her Dothraki’s fault. He’d encouraged Aegon to keep all his bastards in court and to have the eldest betrothed soon as well. And they were the only whisper Tyrion could find over the years. Even though there were more than could be imagined.

Varys smiled. “Perhaps. I believe for the good of the realm it is best to portray a united front. I will not meddle with Lords against Daenerys for the time being.”

That’s a lie. Tyrion thought to himself as Varys continued.

“And will you bring all of your forces to this war? Or do you intend to do something akin to your Father and the Late Mace Tyrell.”

Tyrion smiled wryly. Internally he was angry. How did he know I had considered that very notion? Tyrion had contemplated sending his most disloyal lords to die. Win or lose he would have less to deal with in his position of power.

“I’m not my father.” Tyrion said bluntly.

“And yet you act so similar.” Varys said simply as he floated off, leaving Tyrion alone to his drink.

War is here and the realm will be torn apart again. May we be the victor and have the Northmen fall once and for all. Tyrion thought as he felt another chill down his spine.

Hope you all enjoyed it! As you can see Tyrion has been busy wae the realm. More info on the realm will come but you can see winter has been harsh and the bank worse.

Feel free too ask any questions that come too mind.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 34: A Time of War

Hope you all enjoy! Feel free tae comment as always!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Sansa

The Dothraki were starting to move into the Riverlands. From what Sansa could gather from Lord Royce’s tactical knowledge; they were being sent in to weaken the Riverlands whilst the proper armies of the South mustered. It had been a pre-emptive strike on the Riverlands. The Targaryens had clearly thought that the Riverlands would side with the Northmen when they came South. Something that was inevitable now that the word had come of the Northmen ending the Iron Islands for good. According to Lord Royce the strategy was effective for weakening an enemy’s ability for forming a host but Sansa knew that not giving any Riverlords the chance to openly defect to the crown meant that they had lost any River houses that may have supported them. Sansa hoped that her Uncle Edmure had managed to get as much of his banners to Riverrun to avoid their forces being completely ravaged by them. Please don’t make the same mistake you had before the war of five Kings Uncle. Sansa hoped as the knights of the Vale made their way through the bloody gate in aid of her Uncle and brother when he arrived in the South. The Vale was to bring Thirty Thousand soldiers to this war. It would not be said that the Vale did not join this war to end the dragons. They had abandoned Robb when he fought for her and Father but they would not now. They would fight to avenge Arya Stark on their former Lady Regent’s behalf. This is their last obligation to me. Sansa thought as she rode onwards.

Sansa had spent the last fifteen years ruling the vale on the behalf of her late husband’s bastard daughters, legitimised by both the Vale and House Targaryen. They had proved to be the best option due to the lack of appeal for the Arryns of Gull Town, the extinction of all other Arryns due to Baelish and the knowledge that whatever house married Alys would become the leading House of the Vale. As the widow of Lord Arryn, she’d been the only real choice for regent and she had both House Arryn’s forces and Lord Royce’s forces to secure that. Her regency had ended though with the marriage of Andar Royce’s son Robar to Alys but House Royce and the girl she had raised as a daughter were willing to keep her in a position of power. As did much of the Vale that had seen her rule and successfully worm her way out of marriages that were offered by the crown due a few well bribed Maesters to say that she was barren. It saddened her that she had to do that but Alys and Minisa had become her children. Though with Alys wed and Minisa soon to be married to her cousin Hoster Tully, Sansa would soon have no true ties to the Vale. Instead, she would be re-joined with the Pack.

She had yearned for it for so long. To be re-joined with Jon and Rickon. The news that her youngest brother lived from Brienne all of those years ago had brought some joy out of the grief over Arya’s death. The pack had survived more than she had expected and her and Jon weren’t as alone as she had first thought. Soon Sansa would be home to see her brothers and her nieces and nephews she had learnt of every time Brienne had been sent North to discuss the plans of the King in the North. Sansa had 5 nephews and nieces by Jon and Val and three by Rickon and Lyanna. Rickard, Brandon, Lyarra, Eddard and Robb. Maege, Tormund and Dacey. Sansa looked forward to knowing them all by more than their names. And she longed to have them know that their aunt had stood with their Mothers and Fathers. For Arya.

Davos

Davos smiled proudly as he watched his son Devan, the new Lord of Rainwood, captain their ship through the harsh seas of the Stormlands. It filled him with joy to see his eldest living son completely attuned to the sea and the ships. His younger sons were much the same, having taken command of ships within the Northern Navy on the East and West coast and given coastal lands to run. The seas were in his sons’ blood. But looking at them now makes me wish I was that young to be able to do that as effortlessly. Davos thought somewhat enviously as he made his way into Shireen’s Quarters on the Storm Shatterer. He knew he should be more accepting of time making him older and turning his hair as white as snow and his bones creakier than a door in flea bottom. But seeing his sons fully grown and able to do what he could once with ease made him feel it nonetheless.

“Uncle Davos is coming!”

And these two make me feel even older. Davos thought wryly as he saw two twin eight-year-olds sitting outside Shireen’s Quarters. The twin sons of Shireen clearly had the Baratheon look with thick black hair, the makings of the strong jawline and deep Baratheon blue eyes. Very little of their father had been left in them but you could see bits of him if you knew where to look. The speckle of blue-grey at the centre of their deep blue eyes, fairer skin and a longer face than usual in a Baratheon were enough for any Northmen to know that the wild wolf Davos had brought home had fathered them. It was something that had transpired after the newly-wed wolf and she-bear had invited Shireen on a hunt. The two women had come back pregnant after that and Toregg and Dryn had both been guessing whether it was the wolf or the She-bear that had initiated it. Davos honestly didn’t want to know, simply being content with seeing the young Shireen happy.

Stannis, the elder of the two, had shouted excitedly through the open cabin door before running towards him with his brother Davos.

Davos grinned at the young Baratheon’s words before the twins barged into him and gave him a hug.

“How are my young Princes?” Davos asked kindly.

His namesake was the first to answer him, looking at him with a cheerful smile.

“Excellent Uncle Davos! We’re no longer sea sick!”

Davos chuckled. “Well, I would hope my namesake would be at home on the sea.”

“Will you or Devan teach us to climb the rigging?” Stannis asked eagerly.

Davos smiled. “Go run up the deck now and I’m sure Devan will be happy to show you. The sea is a bit harsh but there are no storms to cause any problems.”

“Our ancestors fought the Storms Uncle Davos! They’re nothing for a Baratheon!” Stannis exclaimed happily as the two twins charged up to the deck, leaving Davos facing Shireen by the door. She was smiling sweetly at him.

“I sometimes feel like they want to follow in your steps rather than be Princes of the Six Kingdoms. They love the tale of how you smuggled onions in for Father.”

Davos smiled at the woman before him. It was still strange to see her as a woman grown and not the child but it warmed him that she had lived when life had repeatedly been unkind to her before Winter. In truth, Davos shouldn’t have been surprised. The Queen of the Six Kingdoms was her Father’s daughter. Too stubborn to let the storms weather her.

“I wouldn’t worry Your Grace. You’ve taught them well enough that smuggling is no business for them.”

“And what will I say to them when they learn that taking back Storm’s End required us being smuggled in once the Golden Company has left for war? They’ll have two stories of how brilliant the smugglers life is.” Shireen asked wryly.

Davos simply raised his fingerless hand. “And I believe I’ve shown them the consequences of a long-term smuggling more than enough times.”

Shireen laughed kindly as the to took a seat in her quarters. Davos could see maps and blocks with different houses in the Stormlands. It was quite a detailed map too, listing the various house numbers and their strength that had been gathered in preparation for taking back the Stormlands. The years had not been kind to the Stormlands with their forces only amounting to just over six thousand fighting men. It was a small army but well equipped thanks to years of smuggling weapons in from the North in Shireen’s name. And thankfully that force would be aided by themselves, bringing a thousand Northmen and the Manderly Navy to take Storm’s End from the small Garrison that would be left by the Golden Company. They would have the support of Edric Storm. Robert Baratheon’s bastard that Davos had sent off in a boat had been found three years back in the East with a two thousand strong sell sword group. Shireen and the King in the North had brought them to the North bringing them South to assimilate with the Storm lords on Shireen’s behalf. He would be the one to gather the banners and pledge them to Shireen once Davos had smuggled her into Storm’s End.

“I’m nervous about this Davos.” Shireen admitted as they both looked at the map.

“The plan is a sound plan that you worked on your Grace. And a one that doesn’t require much from the Stormlands in this war until the end when the Northmen have won. Davos replied confidently in hopes to assure her.

Shireen nodded. “I’m more concerned on whether Edric will decide he wants to be King or the Storm Lords will decide that for him. A sensible option would have been to marry him but our children would be behind in the succession unless I declared Stannis and Davos illegitimate. It is risky me demanding he settle for being the Lord of Storm’s End.”

She’s always been a smart one. Thinking of every possible risk. “I have no worries Your Grace. I doubt the Storm Lords will survive you if they demand they make Stannis and Davos bastards.”

Nor would they survive the wolf and she-bear should they hear it.

“Ours is the fury.” Shireen replied with a smile returning to her lips.

Davos smiled as the tow started to look over plans again for putting the rightful Queen into power. She looked as stern as her father in that moment. I may not have been able to make her Queen of the Seven my King. But I’ve helped keep her safe all these years and will make her Queen of the Six.

Val

The war had truly begun with Rickon’s victorious return from the Iron Islands. The Prince of Winterfell and defender of Moat Cailin had earnt his name as the Hungry Wolf Reborn through his extinction of the squids. Every Northman had come back with skulls strapped to their horses. Rickon had taken Victarion’s skull. His wife Lyanna had taken Asha Greyjoy’s skull, wearing it at the hip of her new Valyrian Steel armour adorned in the colours of House Stark and Mormont. And her eldest son of her 5 children, Rickard, had brought the head of Lord Drumm home on his horse and Lord Drumm’s sword at his hip, looking solemn until he greeted them. Val and Jon had both been proud of their son in that moment as her husband had greeted him with a bear hug. It was their son’s first true taste of war outside of the skirmishes they had taken him on and their son had learnt the horrors of it and the necessities that came of it. The Man who passes the sentence must swing the sword. Their son knew the ways of the first men and how to be a warrior of the first men. He will guard the North and the children well while me and Jon fight the Southerners. Val thought proudly as she walked through the silent Godswood to find her husband. He had left quickly after speaking with all of the bannermen on the war to come after the victory feast.

Val knew he would be in the Godswood. It was where he went for solace or whenever a bout of mourning and rage consumed him that not even fighting bandits and squids could temper. Fifteen years had passed, and although the King in the North had been able to live despite the pain, the loss of Arya had never ebbed and the hate of the dragons had only grown. It had stayed strong within the ice and Wolfblood that flowed through his veins, much like it did in herself and every other Northerner that had lost to the dragons. The North will never forget, the King in the North most of all.

The silence of the Godswood was broken by the padding of Frost towards Val. The Direwolf was her daughter Lyarra’s. He’s asking for the sword back. Val realised as Frost guided her towards the Heart Tree where her husband and daughter sat. Val smiled as she looked at her husband in a more relaxed, joyful manner. Something only reserved for family and the banners when time allowed. When the savage white wolf of winter and King in the North was not needed. Her husband’s hair was still mostly dark brown hair but faint lines of white were starting to show on his sides and within his beard. It made him look more at one with the snows of the north. His grey eyes had become harder and more savage ever since Arya’s death; something that had never left him even when he was at his most joyful with the pack and people. The scars across his face had whitened over time but looked no less fearsome. Especially the scar across his face from the First Other. It sometimes felt cold to touch in comparison to the Weirwood branch scars across his chest which let Val feel his savage heartbeat. The proof that the Wolfblood pumped strong around his body and was blessed with life by the Old Gods.

Lyarra, with her honey blonde hair and grey eyes, looked up intently at her father as she slowly handed needle back to her Father. He had given it to her on her seventh name-day for her to learn to fight. She had spent three years now with it in her hand and this would be the first time it had left. And he will give it back to her once blood has been spilt with it. Val knew as he heard him make that vow quietly before giving his daughter a hug and sending her off running into the Godswood. Frost decided to follow her Stark eagerly. Her husband’s gaze had turned to needle, and his face had turned from kind and solemn into that of his wolf in instant. Ghost and Nymeria had come to sit beside him, both growling alongside their King.

“We’re at war now love.” Val said simply as she sat beside him in front of the Heart Tree.

Jon kept his eyes transfixed on needle. She could still see the bits of blackened char at the hilt which had never quite left. He spoke with a low, guttural growl.

“Aye. I’ve waited long enough. I’ve held back long enough. I look forward to going South. I want to hunt.”

His eyes flashed like Ghost’s eyes for a moment as he said those last words. Val put her hand to his face and pulled him up from needle. His eyes softened slightly despite the snarl and teeth being almost bare.

“I do too. It is about time kneelers see the Queen of Winter. I can show them what true women are made of.”

Jon started to smile wolfishly at her as he put a hand around her face. “It’s time the South remembered for a change.”

And with what you want to do to the dragons, I doubt the kneelers will ever forget. Val thought as the two kissed deeply with the wolves howling in the Godswood. They’ll never forget either of us and the North.

Wylis

The bulk of his navy had gone South to help take Storm’s End and eventually besiege the capital’s ports when the time came. The rest of Wylis’ fleet was currently helping the Skagosi fleet bring their soldiers to the mainland for the war against the dragons. The King in the North had called the rest of the banners after Prince Rickon’s ending of the Squids. Twenty-Five Thousand Northmen would be marching South with Fifteen Thousand left in the North under Crown Prince Rickard’s control and one thousand at Storm’s End. The might of the Vale and Riverlands would be joining them as well. They would have near enough to sixty thousand men, women, wolves and giants to beat the dragons and the Lord of White harbour was proud to be a part of it. The North will not bend. Wylis thought to himself before he heard the almighty, guttural roar from Skagos that turned everyone on the Lord of White Harbour’s ships silent.

The Sound had come from the Volcano at the centre of the island. It was primal and powerful as it got louder and louder; and nearer and nearer as small bursts of flame erupted from the mountain, spewing on the tops of the Volcano. It was followed by a large tremor as the top quarter of the Volcano burst open, sending rocks tumbling down the mountain. The roar became almost deafening as giant coal black wings flew upwards into the sky with giant yellow eyes joining the sky. The monster that Wylis had been warned of all of those years ago by the Crowl was free. The further up the great beast got, the darker it became for their ships. It’s big enough to blot out the sun. Wylis thought with a cold terror as the giant flew in the sky. Darkness turned to fire as the Dragon breathed upwards, sending a large cyclone of flames upwards towards the sun like it was a challenge before beginning to fly Southward, returning the light to Manderly and his navy. Cannibal’s joined the Northern army. Wylis thought with both dread and excitement flowing through his veins as he watched the great demon fly away, roaring louder than any crashing wave the Lord of White Harbour had come up against.

Hope you all enjoyed it!! As you can see there are plans afoot everywhere. The North hasnae been idle these last fifteen years and are out fir blood. If you have any questions feel free tae ask. The next chapter is gonnae be a battle and will be fae Gendry's POV.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 35: The Battle of Prince's Pass

Hope you all enjoy it!! Feel free tae comment as always!!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Gendry

The Prince’s Pass was one of two ways that you could enter or leave Dorne by foot if you were commanding a host of soldiers. It made Dorne much more defensible from the Northern Kingdoms and allowed for less men to be able to hold the pass against the North. The Bone way also served the same purpose. At least that was what Gendry had been taught during his time in Dorne as he looked over the Dornish army that was marching through the pass. There was something close to twenty-five thousand men under the command of Gerold Dayne and Daemon Sand; heading North to fight on behalf of Princess Arianne and House Targaryen against the Starks. It was an impressive host that even included the company’s elephants. But it was a host that had taken a lot longer to forge than usual for Dorne. And that was because of Lord Yronwood and Lord Dayne, his closest friend.

Ever since the taking of King’s Landing and the attempted use of Ashara Dayne as a hostage, and my own heritage forcing me to be smuggled out, Edric Dayne had become a very unsupportive Dornish Lord in regards to the Targaryen reign. His friend hadn’t been able to do much in the early years of winter in action against the dragons but time had been merciful for him due to Arianne’s prolonged presence in the courts. The Princess had changed her tune apparently from when she was young and had committed herself to wanting to rule the Seven Kingdoms; something she had gone a long way in doing by giving potential heirs where Daenerys Targaryen had given none. Her Long-term absences allowed for House Yronwood to more openly express its displeasure at Daenerys Targaryen inadvertently killing Quentyn Martell in Meereen without a strong Martell presence to remind them who ran Dorne. That had led to Edric marrying the Lady Gwyneth Yronwood as a show of support. More minor houses in Dorne had started singing similar tunes when they had nobody but Manfrey Martell to petition to who had very little power as Castellan at Sunspear despite being known to have done his best under the circumstances.

It had become a perfect storm and when Arianne called the banners to march North; houses refused and forced more loyal houses to give all of their levies instead of it being more spread out across the Lords of Dorne. Those that had refused the call had answered Lord Dayne and Lord Yronwood’s though under the position of making Manfrey Martell the Prince of Dorne. They had slowly but surely made a host of ten thousand to take control. But today there’s only one thousand of us. Gendry thought as he looked to where one thousand Spears and knights stood ready at the bottom of the pass. It was all that could be snuck into the pass unnoticed. He would join them soon once Edric and him had finished scouting the enemy army.

Gendry felt a pat on his shoulder as his friend came up to him. His friend had a grin on his face as he looked over the battlefield and to him. He could see Dawn shining at his hip. The sword that had helped to slay the Mountain.

“You look tense Bullhorns. A bit nervous for this?”

Gendry grinned at the nickname. It was the name he had chosen once Edric had knighted him. It suited his bull helmet.

“You know as well as I do that this will end in a defeat. You should be too Ned.” Gendry responded, albeit light-heartedly.

Edric smiled. “I suppose that’s true. But we have faced worse. We were both at the taking of King’s Landing and if I remember rightly it was you that returned to help train members of the Knights of the Bold despite the risk.”

Gendry smiled sadly at the memory. He had gone back to do that to help his people as a knight should. He’d helped train men to use the sword and hammer with Brynden Tully whenever the old Blackfish had snuck himself into the city. He’d also had to carry his body to the sea to be buried without anyone knowing he’d been in the city after he passed defending members of the Bold from an Unsullied raid on a training session. Gendry had smashed his hammer into the rest of the Unsullied that Brynden hadn’t got to keep Brynden’s involvement hidden.

“Well, I suppose I’m just a stubborn risk-taker. Must be in the flea bottom blood.”

Edric nodded at the words. He knew better than to make a comment about being Robert Baratheon’s son. I’m no King or Lord. Just a knighted Blacksmith.

“It’s in the Dornish blood as well. The fight’s going to be a tough one even if we have to break so they’ve got something to chase.”

Gendry took another look down at their small host. They all knew that they had to rout at a certain point of the battle and get away enough for the Dornish to give chase. They needed the Dornish army out of Dorne as quickly as possible so no forces could be sent back to deal with Yronwood as he took Sky Reach from House Fowler; securing both passes into Dorne by land.

“And who better to chase than Ned Dayne, Sword of the Morning.” Gendry replied wryly

“And his bull-headed friend, Ser Gendry Bullhorns.” Edric finished.

The two laughed as they made to re-join their force as they spotted the final portion of the large host.

The Dornish spears before Gendry looked all the more fearsome than they did from above. You couldn’t see the entirety of the enemy but you could feel their power all the more. He could tell the one thousand men here were feeling the same for all they knew what was soon to happen. Gendry could see the odd few shake the spears and swords slightly from behind. The riders were calming their horses in response to the thousands of steps and hooves. They would all calm once the battle started though. Edric had picked mostly greybeards and veterans for this battle. Experienced Soldiers will be good for this. Gendry thought as he watched a small parley banner head to the centre to meet with Edric. The scouts had found the army and Daemon Sand and the Dark Star Dayne wanted to treat. More likely Sand. The Dark Star’s a piece of work if Edric’s right. Gendry had heard that Doran had planned on having the man executed for killing Myrcella Baratheon which resulted in Prince Trystane’s eventually suicide from a broken heart. But upon Doran’s death, shortly after King’s Landing had been taken, Arianne had changed the order and kept him as a guard.

Edric’s words seemed to be true if appearance was anything to go by. His combed sandy blonde hair, high cheek bones and regal pose all screamed the part of an arrogant cunt. Edric’s great cousin looked looked at both Edric and Gendry with both disdain and haughtiness in those purple eyes. It was a look he had seen on so many arrogant Lords he had come across in his life from his time in Flea Bottom and on the roads.

“I see my Great cousin has decided to betray Dorne. That’s two Swords of the Morning to have done that. I’m looking forward to taking Dawn from you after I cut it from your traitorous hands.” Gerold Dayne said first before Daemon Sand could speak.

Prick.

Edric didn’t look fazed as he turned his attention to Daemon and ignoring the Dark Star. “I won’t have Dorne fight against my kin from the North. And I won’t allow the injustice done to my Aunt Ashara go unpunished. I can’t allow you to pass Ser Daemon.”

Daemon looked saddened by that. “I want this to be peaceful Edric. You just have to let us pass and we can forget this. Princess Arianne would understand why you have not joined your banners with Dorne. Princess Arianne would not have you be seen as a traitor to Dorne.”

“Princess Arianne betrayed Dorne when she let the Targaryens attempt to turn my Aunt into a hostage. She has betrayed Dorne the past fifteen years from ruling from afar and leaving Dorne to rely on a Castellan that she refused to give more power to. Arianne is my enemy as well.” Edric replied calmly.

Daemon sighed but nodded. Gerold smiled arrogantly. How is Edric kin to this? Gendry thought. The two had similar sandy hair and Edric’s eyes almost look purple in certain lights but the two Daynes were complete opposites. Like day and night. Like Dawn and Dusk.

“I can’t wait to take Dawn and Starfall from you and your sons and daughters Cousin.”

Edric looked at him calmly. “I wish you good luck in the wars to come. You’ll need it.”

And with that, Edric turned his horse. Gendry followed suit to join the lines that would be fighting in a matter of hours. Most likely less.

The Spears were approaching quickly as Gendry too his place with the men on the ground. He would use horse in the retreat alongside Edric as the main group for the host to chase out of Dorne whilst the rest gradually disappeared into mountains. Gendry gripped the Warhammer he had forged hard as the spears came closer. He could feel his blood start to pump as the spears of Dorne got closer. Gendry kept a calm demeanour like Edric which seemed to spread to their forces. They were ready for the hit and had the advantage of defending their piece of the pass in the valley over attacking. They just had to hold instead of push.

And all hell broke loose as Dornish Spears met Dornish Spears and Swords. The known passion for fighting in Dorne seemed to erupt in an instant as the two sides clashed. Gendry felt the push of the spears on them as they tried to break their lines. Their lines wouldn’t break until ready though. Gendry wouldn’t fail his friend as he struck his Warhammer into a Dornish skull before him; blood and skull drenching Dornish soldiers around his kill. Gendry took that as an opening for him to do more damage, swinging the great Warhammer quickly and efficiently into their skulls as well. Spears dropped to the ground as Gendry continued to fight. He could feel his blood pumping quicker and quicker with every kill. Each strike of his hammer feeling more powerful as he swung it into Spears, shields and the Dornish. It was always thrilling once he got started in the fight. Gendry had learnt that in the taking of King’s Landing and his time with the bold. Today was no different as he fought harder and harder with every single one of the men beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, Gendry could see his thousand Dornish soldiers holding their lines’ each man fighting quickly and efficiently as new spears replaced the ones they had cut down. They all looked impressive in their bloodlust.

And none looked more impressive than Ned Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Dawn glistened with blood as Edric cut through spears as if they were made of butter. It almost looked like a Dance when watching Ned fight. His parries and strikes were all elegant, smooth and quick as he cut through the lines. That was how he had cut the Mountain’s Leg off and helped to end that beast. He was quicker than everyone else with the sword. It never ceased to amaze Gendry at how his friend could do that. I prefer my hammer though. Gendry thought as he smashed at a man’s armour repeatedly until it broke apart, allowing Gendry to take another smash through the ribs. The spearman fell to the ground, the hammer smashing the breath out of him. Gendry finished it quickly as he moved onto the next one. Both hosts were making their own chants as they tried to cut down the other.

“FOR DORNE!!”

“FOR PRINCESS ARIANNE!”

“FOR THE SWORD OF THE MORNING!”

“FOR VENGEANCE!”

The chants and noises all blurred in the clashes of steel as they kept attacking each other furiously. Neither side was giving up, instead tearing into each other repeatedly. Gendry could feel himself standing in gore where their lines were. It was a bloodbath as soldiers kept coming at them until Gerold Dayne rode through the lines towards Edric. The arrogant Dark Star got off his horse and joined his way to the front to meet Edric’s sword. Gendry turned himself towards the oncoming conflict as he smashed his hammer into another spear. He could hear Dark Star’s voice as the two Dayne’s clashed, louder than everyone else’s on the front.

“I can’t wait to melt that sword down and turn it into my own blade cousin!!!”

Gendry could hear the glee in his enemy’s voice as he slashed at Ned. His friend was deflecting the blows calmly, not speaking as he fought with Dark Star. Gerold Dayne was clearly a talented… and aggressive fighter. Each blow was quick but extremely forceful as his sword tried to get through Ned’s guard. It was clear that his friend was making more of an effort with Dark Star but Ned still looked graceful as he deflected every blow. He looked at ease and calm. Gerold is talented but Ned is clearly the better. Gendry thought confidently as he watched the fight out of the corner of his eye. His thoughts were proving to be true with Ned changing from a defensive form to offensive. It seemed like he had got quicker in an instant as he reigned down multiple strikes on the Dark Star and any spear around them trying to kill the Lord of Starfall. It was almost like lightning. Bodies dropped faster than they could be replaced as dawn moved through them like they were air. Gerold was deflecting what blows he could but the speed of Ned had turned the clash of Daynes from a fight to a decimation. Every strike pushed Dark Star into a weaker position. He was gradually being cornered and left with no options to attack whilst all the sword of the morning did was assault. His friend was winning. And pushing forward too. Not enough to get lost within enemy lines but enough to make the royal host nervous. Ned’s men started to chant as their spears and swords pushed forward with more power.

“Dawn!!”

“Dawn!!”

“Dawn!!”

The ancient sword seemed to answer the cries of the soldiers, effortlessly disarming the Dark Star and bringing him onto the ground. Gendry roared in victory of the sight, sending his hammer into another spear attacking the lines. His blood was pumping faster. Just kill him and get back to the lines now. His friend kicked Dark Star in the face instead to Gendry’s brief annoyance and started to push back to his own lines. He won’t slay kin. Gendry realised as Dawn once again cut through spears to get back. Ned was focused on dealing with the spears as he made his way back. He didn’t see the Dark Star had recovered from behind, knifing Ned in the back of his leg and then the arm. The knife had clearly got through the armour as Ned dropped to the ground, now parrying from below. Dark star and Dornish spears were all trying to break through the weakening sword of the Morning’s defence.

Gendry saw red at Gerold’s dark grin and roared.

“NED!!”

Everyone but Dark Star’s face had disappeared in an instant as Gendry charged forward like a bull. All thoughts had left him and only rage was with him. His hammer crushed every skull before him like they were paste as he kept charging. It kept getting redder and redder for Gendry as he made his way closer. Seeing nothing but Dark Star and hearing only the screams as he kept going through whatever was before him. His heart was beating furiously alongside each swing of the Warhammer. It was red too. And it became redder when he got to those that dared harm his brother. Gendry’s Warhammer smashed against the Dornish around Ned. Their spears turned to ruin and their bones to dust as he cleared an opening for his friend to get up. His brother nodded gratefully as he started to gracefully cut back to the lines.

Gendry could barely see that nod for the blood, continuing to tear forward and at Dark Star. He wouldn’t stop until the shit was dead. Until he’d gored him He could see a hint of fear in his eyes as the hammer swung towards Dayne. Gendry roared as he smashed at the sword again and again. Pushing Dark Star further and further back; more blood joining with Gendry’s hammer. Each strike of the hammer felt more brutal and punishing as it hit the steel sword. And then the hammer broke the sword in half. Gendry roared again as he smashed the hammer into Dark Star’s terrified face. Gerold Dayne wasn’t quick enough to duck as the hammer cleaved the top half of his skull off. Gendry roared again as his vision turned redder, turning his attention to the Dornish around him. He swung again and again until a piercing shout came from his brother.

“Retreat!!!!! Fall Back Bullhorns!!!!”

The words brought him back for a moment to see that the men were running into the mountains and the riders were powering along. Only Edric and a few riders were waiting for him on horseback with a horse for himself. Gendry bolted towards them, running across a litter of bodies from a distance he didn’t think he’d covered. The lines had done better than expected.

“How did you not hear the horn for retreat??!” Ned yelled in astonishment as Gendry got on his horse and started to ride with speed in the pass.

“I didn’t hear it! The enemy must have been too loud!” Gendry answered.

Ned looked at him in disbelief. “You turned the battlefield silent with that hammer! You gave the men more time to fall back than we’d hoped!”

Gendry didn’t believe him as they rode away. The sound of Cavalry starting to come from behind.

“Your plan worked then! We’ve got them on our arses! Where now?”

Ned was still looking at him with disbelief. “We keep riding brother. All the way to Black Haven where we can hide until Yronwood does his part!”

Gendry smiled at his brother as the group rode away from the Dornish army that would be dogging their steps.

Hope you all enjoyed it!!! This is a short battle but we're getting closer tae the big battle. I just want ate show other things are going on across the realm. In this case, because Arianne hasnae been able tae manage both Dorne and the court at King's Landing. Some Lords have discontent and are backing Manfrey as a viable alternative. Dayne convinced Yrownwood tae dae this so they could get more houses to support them. Yronwood would have wanted tae take Dorne fir himself.

And the strategy was all about making the Dornish host look forward instead of behind. If they were going at a normal pace they could have had a better chance of receiving news and sending troops back once sky reach had been sieged and taken.

I wanted tae show that Edric is the honourable sword of the morning. Brill warrior but wasnae going tae be a kinslayer. ANd Gendry is his Father's son fir all that he is happy being a commoner and knight.

Next chapter is Sansa which will be a reunion wae the pack

Feel free tae comment and ask questions as always.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 36: A Return to the Pack

Hope you all enjoy it! Feel free tae comment as always. Sorry I'm a wee bit late, currently in Austria and been busy.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Sansa

The ride through the Riverlands had shown Sansa what the Dothraki had been doing. She had seen all of the towns and villages that had been razed to the ground and looted of anything of value. It made Sansa understand why her Uncle Edmure had decided to send small parties to defend whatever towns he could. He cares about his smallfolk. Edmure Tully had done something similar when the Lannisters had started burning the Riverlands before the War of the Five Kings. It was admirable but prevented the River lord from having a full host when the Lannisters came in force and had ultimately trapped him until Robb came. History had seemingly repeated itself with only half of Edmure’s Ten Thousand Men being at Riverrun when she arrived. A quarter of his force was scattered defending villages to the East. The other quarter was primarily foot and stuck at Sea Guard by the bulk of Dothraki that had snuck North to Oldstones. It would be a death sentence to leave Sea Guard and risk being ambushed by cavalry.

It wasn’t a good start for the war and the Dothraki being that far North would give them the chance to raze the Northern Riverlands as they pleased. The reveal at Riverrun had forced a very quick wedding between Hoster Tully and Minisa Arryn to renew the two Kingdoms’ alliance before going Northward to fight the Dothraki and thus regain a quarter of the Riverlands army. Sansa was currently riding Northward with her Uncle Edmure’s forces and ten thousand of the knights of the Vale to meet the Dothraki in battle; with the Lady Regent observing the battle from a safe distance. I know I can’t fight but I will be there. Sansa thought as she rode with her Uncle Edmure and Lord Royce; the two Lords’ sons and grandson leading the host from the front. She wished her Uncle Brynden was still alive. He would have been too old to fight but she knew he would have been a part of it regardless of age. It was why he had trained knights of the bold in King’s Landing and it ultimately killed him. I hope you made better knights than the ones that plagued the capital in my time Uncle.

“One of the Lannister hosts had been defeated by the Dothraki. Do you feel confident about the Knights of the Vale meeting the Dothraki on the field Lord Royce?” Edmure asked, Tully blue eyes turning to the old Lord of Runestone.

Yohn nodded, his aged face only showing confidence. “I am Lord Tully. As should you. The Dothraki may have a talent for riding on horseback and breaking unprepared foot soldiers or unguarded villages but they have not adapted to dealing with armour and better equipment. Our armoured knights will be more than a match for them alongside good strategy.”

Sansa smiled at the Old Lord’s words. The aging Lord of Runestone’s knowledge on military tactics made her feel all the more confident on the battle to come.

“Randyll Tarly has proven himself quite adequate in dealing with Dothraki raiding parties over the years too.” Edmure said with some confidence after hearing the old Lord’s words.

“And the Lannisters were only defeated by them due to being attacked in an open position by surprise if I remember from news of the Targaryen Restoration.” Sansa added.

Edmure nodded. His gaze had turned to their armies at the front. “I’m lucky in a way that the Dothraki were sent into the Riverlands. I don’t think I’d have been able to gather most of my banners otherwise to fight your brother’s war based on Lord Blackwood and his men’s words that the Northmen command giants. Even with news of him wiping out the Iron Born permanently.”

“Our war Uncle Edmure. They killed my sister and your niece.” Sansa said sharply.

It was our war they moment they burnt her alive without a care. And it was our war before that because the North Remembers.

Edmure sighed. “I haven’t forgotten that Sansa. I mourn her as much as you do or as much as Cat would. But this is still a war that your brother started nonetheless. A one that could very well get us all killed for him being foolish enough to dare fight dragons.”

Sansa knew that her Uncle had a point. She knew her histories and Arya’s death were more than enough proof of the power of dragons. They did risk a field of fire. Sansa had heard it enough when she had called the banners as her last act as Lady Regent. Lords and Ladies of the Vale had been reluctant to support it. Many for the same reason that Edmure pointed out as well as the memory of what Jon did to her late husband despite knowledge that their liege lord had been a puppet of Littlefinger. It had taken the words of the knights Yohn Royce had sent North of giants and arrows by both men and giant piercing dragon scales, Sansa’s own politicking and the fact that the dragons had taxed them harshly throughout winter to get them on board. Her unwavering conviction that Jon had a solution and her own desire for justice gave more steel to her words. Arya would have wanted that from me and Jon gave his word to Brienne that he had every means to give us justice for the pack.

“My brother has not taken us on a fool’s errand Uncle. If Jon wanted a fool’s errand, he wouldn’t have waited for fifteen years to exterminate the Iron Born root and stem to start a war. He could have killed the Targaryens at the Wall if he wanted to commit his surviving forces to death and let dragons reign fire upon us all wherever they pleased because they were no longer under control. Jon did none of those things except wait.” Sansa responded firmly.

“You believe he has the means to win.” Edmure stated.

Sansa nodded. “He loved Arya more than anyone else in this world. Jon wouldn’t stop until he had a way of avenging her. I have no doubts.”

And with that Sansa pushed her horse forward with the host as thoughts of Arya consumed her. We will avenge her.

The hill Sansa was stood a top of gave a clear view of the battle that was taking place. It was also far enough away for her and Lord Royce to be safe with only a few guards which had allowed for the Lady Brienne and Sandor Clegane, her personal guards, to join the fight even if it was to the former’s chagrin on not guarding Sansa. She also wants to prove herself as capable as any knight. I don’t doubt she’ll regret that once the battle is won.

Lord Royce’s plan had involved goading the Dothraki to abandon their raiding and reform into their larger Khalasar by sending in small hosts of knights led by Andar, Robar, Hoster and Brienne. The knights would engage the Dothraki parties then feign a retreat, luring them towards the main host of the Riverlands and Vale that would trap them and smash the Dothraki. Sansa was aware from lord Royce that the Dothraki would have engaged them regardless in battle but by doing this they would reduce the number of their own lost and in the process round up most, if not all, of the Dothraki in one move.

I hope you’re right. Sansa thought with a hint of worry as she looked down at the waiting host of knights. It made an imposing sight, seeing thousands of Vale and Tully men at the ready but it did not ease her worries. This was the first true battle she would witness. The relieving of the Riverlands from the Lannisters had been a quick affair and a one that her husband and Baelish had kept her eyes from, only bringing her in when the deed was done. This was the first time she would truly see a battle unfold in all of its horror. Sansa turned her gaze to her aging friend instead. Looking at Lord Royce, Sansa could see the calm on his face as he looked over the host of men at the bottom of the hill. He almost looked relaxed except for the grasping of his sword; something that wasn’t a sign of nerves but a longing to fight with his son and eldest Grandson. Too old to fight but not old enough to not long for it.

Sansa’s thoughts were broken by the sounds of hooves pounding quickly into the clearing. She could see that the four parties of knights had merged into one at this point as their horses sped across the fields. They were moving extremely fast, galloping harder than she’d seen any rider. The beating of hooves almost sounded like thunder.

“Are they supposed to be coming in this fast Lord Royce?” Sansa asked tentatively, neither of their gazes leaving the battlefield.

“It means they’ve succeeded in their part of the plan my lady.” Lord Royce answered calmly.

It only took a moment for him to be proven right as the sounds of thousands of screams in a foreign tongue rolled through the air, followed by thousands more hooves. The Dothraki were here and there were thousands of them. They’ve done too well in goading them all. Sansa hadn’t seen them before on the field, having only seen them in Daenerys’ court when she had come to bend the knee. They looked fearsome then but this was something else as she watched ten thousand Dothraki ride across the field like a knife would across butter. The riders rode effortlessly as if they were born on the horses, gradually gaining on the escaping host. They were also poorly armoured. That was something else that was clear even from above when compared to the forces of the Vale and Riverlands. She could barely see any chain or plate armour glistening off them. Barely any furs either. It more than explained why many Dothraki had died during the winter. They weren’t prepared for it. And Sansa doubted they would be prepared for her armoured knights when her forces began to charge, becoming sooner and sooner as the small host started to split into two so it could join the east and west flank that would be used for trapping the Dothraki in a circle. The Dothraki were hurtling behind them though, not far from the small host.

“The men will charge now.” Lord Royce said calmly.

Sansa’s gaze turned back to the main host; beginning their charge into the Dothraki. They were moving fast. Faster than the small host Brienne had been a part of due to being better rested. The Dothraki had finally realised that there was a large host before them as the last of the host moved to the sides. It clearly didn’t deter them as their screams loudened and their horses grew faster. Arrows started to fly on the Dothraki side as their archers started to volley arrows into the knights of the Vale.

“They’re going to charge straight into the Knights of the Vale.” Sansa said incredulously.

Lord Royce leaned forward on his horse to look closer at the charge. “The Dothraki don’t miss a fight head on. Charging forward is their primary tactic.”

Sansa simply nodded as she watched more arrows fly into her host. The arrows did very little damage though as the two sides kept charging. And then they clashed. From Sansa’s perspective it looked almost like two large fists colliding with each other. And it felt like it too. She could swear that she felt the vibrations even from above, adding to the power of the Dothraki’s screams. It looked like a stalemate from her perspective too as Sansa watched both sides merge on the front of each host. Neither side was giving leave for the other as the two battered into each other. It felt like that for an age until her host started to push forward in complete unison.

Sansa breathed a sigh of relief as she watched her forces start to move into the Dothraki lines, the east and west flank joining the fight to box the Dothraki in. Pike men would be moving in shortly from the South to prevent the Dothraki from escaping if they tried.

“How long did the two sides hold like that?” Sansa asked.

Lord Royce chuckled slightly as he looked at their army pushing further into the Dothraki lines. The Dothraki were still screaming furiously as they fought from three sides.

“Less time than you would think. It was only a few minutes. More than to be expected given the lack of armour on the Dothraki side but something they make up for in their abilities on the horse.”

“It felt like an age.” Sansa said solemnly as she watched her knights continue to fight the Dothraki. It felt good to watch them gradually get pushed back and their army grow smaller. The Dothraki had been there when Arya had been killed. Arya always dreamt of commanding armies.

“The first time you see two hosts clash always feels like an age Lady Sansa. The reality is much quicker.” Lord Royce said sagely.

“Especially when we’re winning.” Sansa said confidently.

It was hard to deny it. The Dothraki were growing smaller as the knights of the Vale and Riverlands army cut into their forces. You couldn’t argue that the Dothraki weren’t fighting hard. Sansa could feel their fury from above as they cut down knights that had less armour on than others. But that was the Dothraki’s problem tenfold. They weren’t armoured enough to defend themselves and that was cutting numbers down on their part. And to her shock it had broken their morale from the back as a group of one thousand Dothraki turned and galloped off. The Dothraki never retreat.

“Maybe time here has given these savages some sense.” Lord Royce said as he watched the group ride Southward while the rest of the Dothraki continued fighting and losing.

“Where’s the Southern Flank?” Sansa asked with worry as she watched the Dothraki run at speed.

Lord Royce looked annoyed as he realised the same thing. “We need that flank to come quickly.”

If we lose them, it will take time to find them again and they’ll have raided more and delayed the forces at Sea Guard again. Sansa thought with anger as she watched the Dothraki escape; their horses going even faster than in the charge. They were going to make it out of the trap.

And then she heard the roars of giants as they charged out of the Southern flank with crows flying above them. Sansa’s mouth was agape. Sansa hadn’t seen the giants once, having only heard of them from Brienne’s words and that of the Blackwood and Royce men. Their words weren’t good enough in describing them as she watched them run into the shocked Dothraki; giant great swords cutting through multiple horses at once as arrows didn’t even lock into their steel armour covered in leather. Sansa watched in awe as the fifteen-foot Giants turned Dothraki into broken corpses with Giant Great Swords, Steel Maces and shields blazing with the Stark Direwolf. It looked like one of Old Nan’s tales come to life as they made short work of the Dothraki, killing almost every man but a few stragglers that tried to get behind the giants. Those were met with wolves led by a small group of riders; their howls filling the clearing as they ripped into what was left of the Dothraki with the giants. She knew one of the riders would be Jon. She could see three giant Direwolves with him the size of horses at the head of the slaughter they were making. Howls and roars filled the air as Dothraki blood covered the ground. He’s not taking prisoners. Sansa realised as every straggler fell dead to the floor. Torsos split from limbs and blood drenching giant armour and wolf fur.

Lord Royce was watching in shock at the sight. And so was everyone else on the battlefield now that the Dothraki had been wiped out, crows pecking at their corpses. The battle had ended in silence at the sight of giants and wolves. Sansa’s lips curved into a smile. It felt wolfish. My Pack’s here.

*

Jon or the giants and wolves hadn’t stayed after taking their part in the battle. He’d simply left a rider to inform them the Northern host wasn’t far away and he wanted to lead them to their encampment. The rider had quickly ridden away after the details had been given by her and Lord Royce; leaving an army of stunned Riverlords and Vale men. Any doubts of Brienne’s words and that of those who had been North had been squashed in an instant. Sansa had seen the mix of fear, awe and astonishment on the men, Uncle Edmure included, from the sight upon her descent to the battlefield. She’d seen it on the men who were supposed to have guarded the Southern Flank as well; shocked at the sight and unable to refuse Jon’s offer to cover the Southern Flank. That shock was still there in the encampment as they waited for the Northern army to come.

Sansa expected it to be a tense affair. For all that they were allies; there were still Lords of the Vale that held a grudge at Jon killing their liege Lord despite their knowledge that he was nothing more than a puppet of Little Finger. And the Northmen would still not have forgotten the Vale’s lack of involvement in trying to free her father and fighting with Robb. But they would work together for this war. There would be no other option at this point. It was Win or Die. But for now, I see my family. Sansa thought with more than a hint of excitement. She wanted to see her brothers and pack.

Her hopes seemed to be answered with a series of howls that turned the Lords towards the direction of the makeshift entrance to the camp. The Northern army had come. Sansa smiled as she took a horse to greet them. The closer she got to the entrance, the more she could hear the feet of giants, the howls of wolves and the chatter Northmen, accents so like her father’s. Sansa could feel herself spur her horse onward. It was instinctive as if she were answering the call to go home for all that it was her people coming south for war.

And war they were clearly planning for by the looks of them as Sansa finally got to see her people from a raised part of the camp. There were thousands of Northmen at the ready in their mail and leather; their house banners attached to their attire and flying above them. Sansa could see a mix of men and women with faces that looked hard and determined regardless of age. “Winter does not allow for Green Boys and children of summer.” Her Father’s words echoed through her mind as she looked at the procession of grizzled Northmen. Sansa turned her horse so she could get to the front of her own Lords that were forming up. Her own men gradually cleared a path for her and took her horse from her once she got to the centre. Directly opposite to Jon and Rickon at the front of the Northern Army, Three Direwolves at their side and two fearsome women in Stark colours and armour.

Sansa hadn’t seen Rickon since leaving Winterfell but she could tell it was him in an instant. She could see his reddish-brown hair and broad build with a long Stark face behind those Tully locks. He looked like Robb even in the eyes despite the tinges of grey within the Tully Blue. He was truly alive and before Sansa as she watched him share a grin with a woman dressed in the colours of House Mormont and Stark over her armour. Lyanna Mormont. The wife Brienne mentioned on one of her visits North for me. Sansa thought with a smile as she tried to hold back the tears of joy at her youngest brother being before her.

“That woman’s wearing Valyrian Steel armour.” One of the Lords whispered with a hint of distaste as they looked at Rickon’s wife.

Sansa ignored the comment as she turned her gaze directly to Jon. The King in the North was wearing similar attire in their last meeting at Moat Cailin with Stark coloured Tartan adorning his breastplate. His savage appearance hadn’t left him either, seeming to look more fearsome with the strands of white along the sides of his hair and within his beard. The only true difference Sansa noted in her brother was his weapons. There were two strapped to his back. One that looked to small for him to use and too thin for war. The second weapon though… That almost made her gasp as she looked at the great sword strapped to his back. She knew it in an instant by the pommel. “Ice.” Sansa whispered almost reverently as she looked at the sword and her brother. His grey eyes so like Father’s met hers. Sansa didn’t break her stare with her brother as he raised his hand for the Northern army to stop. She could see his savage side soften to solemn. He looked like Father then. Rickon’s gaze turned to her as well, face looking like he had seen a ghost. The Northern army had turned silent as Jon and Rickon got off their horses.

Sansa started to walk forward slowly for a formal welcoming to the camp. Her youngest brother seemed to disagree on formal as he started sprinting towards her and a shout coming off his lips; his accent thick with the North.

“Fuck Propriety!”

And then Rickon had her in a bear hug within an instant. She could feel his grip as he hugged her tightly like the world would end if he didn’t. She could feel two Direwolves licking her hands behind Rickon’s back. The two hugged like that in silence until she felt another strong hand on her shoulder. Sansa looked to see her eldest brother with a wolfish grin on his face; Ghost by his side. Sansa answered it with her own smile.

“The Knights of the Vale and Riverlands are yours Your Grace.”

Jon didn’t answer her as he gave his own bear hug, the world seeming to erase around them. All but the pack was there as Sansa felt the wolves come together again. We’ll avenge you Arya. The Lone wolf dies but the pack survives. Sansa repeated to herself as she looked into the bright, joyful yellow eyes of Nymeria.

Hope you all enjoyed it! As you can see this is the bulk of the Dothraki dead. What is left is inconsequential now. Edmure in this made the same cock up the first time around but there was good reason fir it. In the books in some part it is more because he wanted tae protect his lands as well as bad strategy. Sansa has managed tae keep lords in line wae some littlefinger tactics and it has paid off now that the Northmen have shown giants. They will know about cannibal soon too.

The Next chapter is Jon and Daenerys. After we have the big battle.

Feel free tae comment as always and ask any questions!

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 37: The Eve of Battle

Hope you all enjoy it! feel free tae comment as always! Very sorry it is late. I've been busy on ma travels. Just been through Germany and in France. It was very hot and killed ma brain fir writing. I didnae want tae put anything out I wasnae happy wae. It is also a bit shorter but that next few chapters will be quite long because it is the big battle. Be warned it is gonnae be a two parter and there will be a couple of conclusion chapters tae the battle and setting up how the realm will be in the end. I'll also be back in the UK on the 12th so one will either be released before then or after that date. Hopefully before.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Daenerys

Daenerys was sick of waiting to deal with the Northmen. She was sick of their rebellion against the Queen that had saved them from the dead and won the war for dawn. And she was sick of the ravens that came every year. The North Remembers Arya Stark. Every year those words came from Winterfell and every other house in the North with names of Northerners she had apparently killed in saving them. They would have all been dead if it wasn’t for me. Daenerys had raged angrily every time those words came of a dead girl that had most likely died by one of those Wights. I saved them all. The urge to fly Northward and burn Winterfell and any Northern House that didn’t accept her rightful reign had only grown over the fifteen years of winter; only ever stalled due to the ever-demanding needs of the realm, the inability to mobilise forces due to winter and those that disputed her decisions in the council.

But now she could reclaim half her Kingdom. There were no more excuses that her Lords could give now that winter had ended and the Northerners had turned one of her kingdoms to ruin. I will take what is mine. Daenerys thought confidently as she flew over her army on Drogon. Below her was a host numbered close to Eighty Thousand. It was mostly from Westeros with only two thousand Unsullied present whilst the other one thousand unsullied and one thousand freed men guarded the capital. And my Dothraki gone. Daenerys thought grimly of her Dothraki being gone; something she didn’t think possible when she had sent them North to raid.

Nonetheless, her host made an impressive force from all of her kingdoms. Forty Thousand from the Reach. Eight Thousand of the Golden Company and their one hundred elephants. Seven Thousand from the Westerlands. And Twenty-Two Thousand from Dorne.

The Dornish had taken losses due to House Dayne’s short-lived attempt at preventing her host from leaving Dorne on behalf of his cousin. But her forces had routed them despite the losses and had chased them off into the mountains. It was another victory for Daenerys. And he will die alongside that bull-headed monster the Dornish spoke of once I’ve killed his cousin. Daenerys thought confidently as she enjoyed her flight.

Riding Drogon gave Daenerys comfort. He was the child that hadn’t betrayed her. He protected her above all else. He was loyal to her alone and not her husband like Rhaegal had become. The bastard that fathered children on that Dornish whore and left me with no heirs. She knew not to trust him or his advisors. If they had their way, they would have given me their choice of guards and handmaidens and poisoned me years ago. But Daenerys hadn’t allowed that. Jorah guarded her with Grey Worm and Missandei had control over all her handmaidens; making sure they were either Dothraki or the daughters of freed men. It had kept her power and kept those armies below her loyal. As much as they craved Aegon to rule alone they could not. Drogon was the larger dragon of the two and they knew Rhaegal would lose. Play their courtly games. I have real power.

And soon she would show it in truth. The usurpers had been found to be near God’s Eye. It was the last place where the Weirwood Trees grew in the South. Daenerys would burn it in front of what was left of them. Let them remember what I can do on a whim. But that would happen after she burnt the bastard of Winterfell and everyone loyal to him. They would see her end a false King and by reminded that she was their liberator. I have liberated everywhere from Meereen to the Wall. Let the North Remember that and know it was due to fire and blood. Drogon seemed to answer her thoughts as he roared into the sky and sending a jet of flames up towards the sun. What is a to a dragon? Prey.

Jon

Jon hadn’t stopped sparring with his fellow Northerners since starting the march South. Jon hadn’t stopped fighting for the last fifteen years of winter in truth. He’d fought the squids. He’d fought bandits. And he’d fought with every Northerner to train them and himself for what was about to come. Fighting at every opportunity had become a constant like breathing air for Jon. But the fighting felt different now as he sparred with more ferocity and animalistic savagery than all of Ghost’s wolf pack. He felt raw and primal. Jon knew why. It feels like when Arya died again.

Arya’s death had never left him. Her burnt corpse hadn’t left his memory. His wife, growing pack of Starks and the North had given him joy and comfort but the grief and the rage had never ebbed since the Wall. Time hadn’t weakened or healed the pain. And Winter hadn’t buried it either; Only freezing it.

It was his worst scar.

And now the Wolfblood had thawed the pain and had it pushing through his veins as he fought in the training grounds of Harrenhal with Ice in hand against the Great Jon, Ned Umber, Harrion Karstark with Sigorn and Alsyane Mormont by his side. Jon could feel the rage growing as he deflected a furious blow from the Great Jon before countering and pushing forward against the greying giant. The blood red tip of Ice, the last remnant of the Lannister colouring that had desecrated it, glistened in the sun as it held against Umber’s sword. The Great Jon didn’t let up, using his height and bulk to keep the King in the North off him before pushing Jon off him again. Jon growled as the two continued to trade blows, nearly ignoring their fellow partners that were engaged in their own fights. Never one to make it an easy fight Umber.

The Lord of Last hearth and Whoresbane Umber had become his training partners the moment the Braavosi had finished re-forging Ice so Jon could fight as effectively as possible with his ancestral sword. Ned Umber had replaced his great-uncle when Whoresbane had become too old to use a Great Sword. Jon had thought it a wise decision over the years. Jon knew he would never have the skill with the Great sword like the Umbers, giants or Tormund’s brood but they had trained him well with it. He would never be as fast as he was with Longclaw or be able to use a shield alongside the sword but Jon could fight well with the sword. It felt like it was a part of him now. Jon could feel that as he rained down heavy blows against the Umber once again until the two Great Swords clashed violently. Neither side was giving ground, Jon snarling and the Great Jon almost roaring. The two held like that for a moment until the Great Jon laughed as Ned Umber got floored by Alsyane Mormont.

“Ha! What have I told you son about watching your feet against a Mormont’s Mace?!”

His son grunted as the group finished their spar, Jon unsheathing Ice and looking around the courtyard to look for another sparring partner until he caught Sansa watching the Northerners spar from above on the small balcony overlooking the courtyard. Jon smiled as his sister turned her gaze towards him briefly. He could feel the rage temper as he went to join his sister; hugging her before the two looked over the courtyard.

“I shouldn’t have been surprised that your wife was a fighter.”

Sansa said kindly as she stood watching his wife spar with her nephew Aemon Steel Song. The Queen in the North was not pulling any punches with her blood as her spear pushed through his defence before putting the butt of the spear into his gut; sending him to the floor. Jon could hear his wife chuckle lightly before pointing her spear at Gawen Glover for the next bout. A couple of Spear wives, the Crowl and Stane started chuckling as Gawen walked towards the Queen in the North.

Jon smiled in response. “I wouldn’t call what she’s doing now fighting. When the Lady Lyanna is finished fighting with her sisters and Rickon, you’ll see her give a proper fight.”

You’ll see it all the time when you are home with us and the rest of the pack.

Sansa responded with a bemused yet understanding expression as the two stood in comfortable silence watching many of the Northerners training in the large courtyard of Harrenhal. Sansa had made a habit of coming to watch Jon, Rickon and their fellow Northmen train since they had reunited. One of them would usually speak with their sister whilst the other trained with their people. But Sansa had been speaking with some of the Vale and Riverlords so both Jon and Rickon had trained in the courtyard without waiting. Rickon was currently in the courtyard, practicing with Longclaw in his hand, the Mormont women opposite him, and Ned Umber and Dryn by his side for a bout.

“How did the meeting with the Southerners go?” Jon asked his sister.

Sansa smiled. He could see the wolf in it despite her hiding it. “It went well Jon. They’re nervous about that demon you’ve brought with you but they’re more confident about what is to come.”

Jon grinned wolfishly. It had been at Riverrun when he had introduced Cannibal to the Southern forces. They had been discussing their strategy for the war when one of the Lords had asked about how capable the giants would be in keeping the dragon fire focused on them and not the host. It had led to a few Lords grumbling that the giants wouldn’t be able to. Jon had decided it was a perfect time to get the Lords acquainted with the beast that would be flying above them and keeping them from being burnt from above. He’d seen more than enough terror on their faces when looking up at those giant black wings; almost like an abyss. They needed to get used to its presence. It would do no good for them to be afraid of Cannibal in battle.

“Good.” Jon replied simply.

Sansa leaned onto the balcony bar; looking between the courtyard and him. She was looking at him pensively. “What are you planning on doing with them when you get your hands on them?”

Jon looked hard at his sister. “They die.”

Sansa turned her attention completely towards him. “I know they will die. But the way you were fighting down there… It was more ferocious than when you killed Lord Arryn. It speaks of you doing more than simply executing them like Father would.”

Jon knew she was speaking the truth. He knew well enough how he would kill them both. But words didn’t couldn’t really describe how he intended to execute them for what they had done to Arya.

“They will die in the North Sansa. That much I can say. Just know they will deserve what I do to them.” Jon said as he gritted his teeth.

Sansa put her hand over his on the balcony. “I know. We won’t let them go unpunished.”

The two returned to silence as they watched the Northerners fight. They stood there until a horn blasted for a returning scout. A scout that had confirmed the Targaryen host was approaching the God’s Eye. Jon felt his blood pounding at the news. The time had come and the Old Gods would see it. It’s time Arya. Jon thought as he warged into Ghost to hunt with the pack. He wanted the taste of blood in his mouth until he could truly taste dragon blood on the field.

Hope you all enjoyed! Feel free tae comment if you have any questions!

Daenerys' pov was short but you will get a lot more of her soon so dinnae worry. All you need tae know is she is pissed and wants tae be ruthless here. Also barely trusts anyone but her core followers. She is also unaware that Edric Dayne had planned tae be routed. She has no idea that a coup is taking place in Dorne and neither does Arianne or any of the Dornish present.

As fir Jon. Jon's still grieving but being productive about it.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 38: The Battle of God's Eye: Part One

Sorry fir the delay! I got back on monday and have been very busy. I also wanted tae get this done as well as possible! Know that the second chapter will be out this week! I'm on a roll. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it and feel free tae coment as always!!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Val

The wait for the battle was the worst as the Northern, Vale and Riverlands forces waited with the God’s Eye to their left. Val could feel the itch to fight and lead her people into battle with Jon. She could see that itch to fight on every Northerner from the Skagosi to Mainlanders and Free-Folk as well. There would be no parley or peace before blood was spilt. The Blood of the First Men was too eager for this fight. Too longing to drown in the blood that killed their kin. And there was nobody more eager than her husband as she looked at him by her side at the front. Both hands were firmly clenched around Ice and his eyes were harder and more wolf like than ever; firmly fixed on the approaching army as they made their positions on the opposite side of the field. She could hear the snarl escaping from his lips as the enemy started to form up; banners of Targaryen, Lannister, Martell, Tyrell and Tarly all flying in the daylight. How many of those houses will we feast on today? Val wondered to herself as she looked forward.

“Only the dragons are left to show on the field.” Harrion Karstark said from the Northern lines.

Jon spoke with a constant growl. “The Dragon Bitch and her children aren’t here yet. Her husband is on the field though. I can smell him.”

Rickon grinned at his brother’s words, his eyes half glazed over from warging into his giant wolf. “And I can see him brother. The Great Jon’s stories don’t do justice to what you did to him. He looks uglier than half of the squids on Pyke.”

Val smiled darkly at her husband as she heard the Northmen that had wiped out the squids laugh at Rickon’s words. “He wants to prove himself on the field then after what you did to him.”

“A brave move from him… And a poor one.” Alsyane added.

The Northmen all started to laugh darkly at those words whilst Jon kept his gaze and growl towards the enemy. He was unmoving on his horse with Ghost and Nymeria much the same by his side. How many times has he killed him today in his head? Val knew it would be more than anyone could count. She wondered how he would bring him back North alive too. He can control himself. I know that. He’ll have me, Rickon and the North to remind him of how the dragons should die if need be. But it won’t come to that. What Jon and the North demanded for the Dragons’ crimes couldn’t allow for them to die in battle. It was too honourable for the Targaryens. Too painless.

Great Jon Umber’s boom broke Val from her thoughts as he made his way from the giants’ position with Tormund’s son Toregg. “The Southerners are all on the field my King!!! Us Umbers and Giants are ready.”

“And us Giants banes are eager to kill some elephants!!!”” Toregg shouted.

The words started to spread amongst the Northmen, increasing their anger as the pipes and. Val could hear the mountain clansmen and Free-folk start shouting about how many Dornish they would kill. Karstarks, Glovers and Hornwoods were banging their swords against their shields as they howled for dead Lannisters. The Skagosi yelling about how many flowery fucks they would dismember. Mormonts were shouting for vengeance for their mother. Words of vengeance started to spread across the Northmen, matching the beats of the drum and the skirling of the pipes. “The North Remembers Hugo Wull. The North Remembers Crowfood Umber. The North Remembers Tormund Giantsbane. The North Remembers Maege Mormont. The North Remembers Torren and Duncan Liddle.”

The chant inevitably ended with the words that had been a part of her husband since the battle at the wall.

“The North Remembers Arya Stark!!”

Those words in Northern unison finally turned Jon’s gaze towards his brethren. The Northmen turned silent for a moment, looking at the Wolf King eagerly. His voice erupted into a vicious howl.

“THE NORTH REMEMBERS ALL THESE FUCKERS HAVE TOOK FROM US!!! WE FIGHT FOR OUR KIN TODAY!!! WE AVENGE THEM WITH SOUTHERN BLOOD DRENCHING OUR SWORDS!!! WE AVENGE THEM WITH BONES BROKEN BY OUR FISTS AND FLESH TORN APART BY OUR TEETH!!! WE RIP THEM APART UNTIL THERE IS NOTHING LEFT AND EVERY NORTHMEN IS AVENGED!!!”

The Pipes started skirling and the drums got louder. The Northmen were banging their shields with fervour. Val gave her own howl with her husband.

“WHAT IS A DRAGON TO A PACK OF WOLVES?!!!”

The Northmen knew the answer as they drowned out the world with a single word.

“PREY!!!!!”

The Northmen were ready for war as they chanted that word again and again.

“PREY!!!!!!!”

“PREY!!!!!!!!!!”

“PREY!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Louder and Louder. Louder even than the roars of the dragons as they finally flew over the Southern Army. Our roar is louder. Val thought as she unsheathed her spear and joined her husband’s side as the leaders of the pack.

Tyrion

Near enough to Eighty Thousand Men were in the Royal Host. About one thousand off that from the toll. Tyrion thought as he sat on his horse surveying the army from the rear. There would have been over Eighty Thousand men in this host if Dorne hadn’t suffered three thousand losses in the Prince’s Pass against the legendary Sword of the Morning and the bull-headed “monster” the soldiers claimed Edric Dayne had under his command. Something still feels off about that whole fight for all that it was a victory for us.

And Tyrion himself could have brought another three thousand men to this war but had thought better of it. He’d mostly brought more disloyal houses from the Westerlands to be depleted at the front whilst the loyal ones were either guarding the Westerlands or guarding himself from the rear. This victory might as well be useful in further strengthening my position as well as bringing the North to heel. Tyrion had thought; reasoning that it would give him more power in the Westerlands that would require him to depend less on his position as Hand and the dragons’ protection. A warden and paramount must be supreme in his lands and not be reliant on the crown for internal matters.

Although it would be obviously noted that Tyrion had brought less men. It didn’t matter with the size of their force; clearly outnumbering the rebels who Tyrion had estimated possessed a force just under sixty thousand. It was still an intimidating force and a one not to be underestimated. One only needed to look at the giants that could be seen from afar and the faint outline of wolves in their ranks to know that. One only needed to hear the Northmen chanting and it spreading the Vale and Rivermen to know that as well. But the royal host had been prepared by Tarly for tactics and with the presence of Daenerys’ dragons… We control the skies and will force the giants and their archers to focus upwards. Tyrion doubted that the giants and the rebel archers would be as effective as they had been at the Wall where they had a better position to do consistent damage against dragons that weren’t looking to attack them. Tyrion felt confident for this battle. But I have seen a dragon die. Tyrion shook the thought from his head as two grand roars in answer to the Northmen’s chants.

Looking up, Tyrion could see the faint outline of his Queen in all of her glory on Drogon with Rhaegal by their side. This is her at her most natural unlike in the courts. Tyrion mused as he looked in awe at the sight of the black and green dragons. The two looked large and fearsome as they circled over the royal host; bringing morale to the men as he heard their cheers that had been started by Aegon at the front. The dragons had grown these past fifteen years. It would take over a century before reaching the black dread’s size but Tyrion felt that these beasts could eat the world if they wanted. I’ll settle them for burning and eating the North. Maybe they’ll shit my gold back out.

The dragons’ circling ended as they roared into the bright sky before flying over the lake towards the island that gave God’s Eye its name. Daenerys intended to burn the island that held the largest Weirwood Grove in the South and the only place where the Old Gods held any sway besides the lands of House Blackwood. Tyrion had initially heard her say she would do it in front of the survivors after their victory. It seems she’s changed her mind. Maybe it will enrage the Northmen into charging. The thought of that made a shiver run down his spine. The same one he’d had when news came of the Iron Born extermination. The fires will warm me up and take away my worries . Tyrion reassured himself as he looked at the dragons approaching the island. He could hear the chants of the Northmen growing more and more feral as they realised what was happening. Jorah Mormont, looking more like his father now, was looking away from his position not far from his own before the flames inevitably left the dragons’ mouths. Show them the power of the crown. Tyrion thought as he looked up at the sight of the dragons. One on each side of the Island. Their great necks started to move backwards as they sucked in great amounts of air. Their wings beating with more power as they brought more and more air in to release flames more powerful than wildfire. Flames that would burn a symbol of the Old Gods into ash.

But then the roar came that stopped the dragons in their tracks. It was louder than anything than Tyrion had ever heard. A large chill went down his spine, spreading across his body in waves of cold as more roars came. Getting louder and louder. More and more bloodcurdling and savage. What was that? The cheers of the Royal Host had stopped. They had turned silent from the bloodcurdling roars that had stopped two dragons in their tracks. The dragons had turned their gaze in its direction. Tyrion and the Royal army followed suit; turning their gaze towards the Rebel Host. And above it…

The waves of cold grew colder and colder as a giant darkness flew slowly and powerfully into view from behind the rebel host. Tyrion’s mouth was agape as he looked at the roaring monstrosity that was coming towards them; covering the rebel host in darkness as it flew towards the Queen’s dragons. Only the great roar of flame that had come from the beast’s mouth gave any light to the rebel host. Tyrion didn’t want to see their faces in that moment. He couldn’t anyway as his eyes were firmly fixed on the beast above him that the Northmen had somehow acquired with teeth larger than the Mountain was. A blind man would call it a dragon. But comparing it to the Queen’s dragons… Tyrion could only see a Monster. That was the only way Tyrion could describe the great beast with scales blacker than midnight and wings larger than castle walls and bright yellow eyes that looked like crueller imitations of the sun.

The monster gave another chilling roar in the air. Daenerys’ dragons answered with their own as they flew at speed towards the great dragon. Rhaegal arrived first and its mouth let off a great burst off fire at the beast’s head whilst Drogon went underneath and burst flame onto its underbelly. The flames did nothing as it made its midnight scales glisten in the darkness it had created. Tyrion swore the monster was grinning as the dragons attempted another attack in unison on the underbelly. Once again it did nothing with the monster’s teeth baring more and more. It looks like it’s enjoying itself. Tyrion felt with horror as he looked transfixed at the battle unfurling above him and ignoring the one that had begun on the ground as the Golden Company’s Elephants were released.

Great Jon Umber

“CANNIBAL!!!”

“CANNIBAL!!!!”

“CANNIBAL!!!!”

The Northern Dragon’s name had joined the chants of the Northmen. It had got the Great Jon’s blood pumping faster and faster. His Great Sword singing for blood. I feel like I’m in my twenties again. Great Jon thought with savage joy as he looked at the Targaryen army; and the war elephants that they had released onto the field to try and break their infantry’s lines. It made the Great Jon grin. They weren’t going to be craven and deny him a fight for vengeance. Freys And Lannisters killed my eldest. Targaryens and Southerners killed my Uncle and fellow Northmen. They killed my Princess. I’ll rip them all apart.

“I can smell the piss coming from their breeches already!!” Great Jon roared at the men and giants he was with as the elephants came closer.

“HA!! The Mammoth’ bairns are fucking bigger than these!!” Theo Wull, Lord of House Wull after his father’s death belted out.

“They’re not even as big as me member!!” Dryn, son of Tormund howled.

Great Jon grinned at the Northmen’s words, clearly eager. He would give the command to charge the elephants and cut them down with the giants soon before they could reach the infantry flank they were targeting. But only when they think the arrows have failed. Great Jon thought eagerly.

“Get here faster you SOUTHERN FUCKS!!!” Great Jon bellowed.

The King in the North had given him command of some of the largest Northerners from the mainland, Skagosi, clansmen and free-folk alongside Wun-Wun and the one hundred giants that would be fighting on the lines to break up any southern defences. It was the best position for him. The Great Jon didn’t have to hold any lines. He just got to smash the enemy ones to bits and turn cravens into carved up corpses. A perfect place for an Umber though I’m sure my Ned will do plenty fine in the Vanguard. Great Jon thought happily as the elephants got closer. Their roars were nothing in comparison to that of the skirling of the pipes, the howls of wolves and Northmen alike and the deafening roar of cannibal.

And now I fucking end their horseshit roars.

“WUN-WUN!!!! CHARGE THE BASTARDS!!!!”

Great Jon Umber’s words did not to be repeated despite the noise as one hundred armoured giants charged forward. Their feet creating thunder as they ran directly towards the elephants. It was clear that the fifteen-foot giants were the larger of the two forces; towering over the war elephants and their archers’ tents. The arrows being fired from the elephants’ riders deflected effortlessly off the giants’ shields and armour as the two groups got nearer and nearer. Umber grinned more as he watched the clash begin. Some giants had chosen to bash the elephants with their shields before the elephants could ram them. And with enough force to snap their necks in full or to send them running to the side and almost charging into the other elephants. Other giants had taken a more direct approach with their swords; impaling the elephants as quickly as possible and cutting the archers’ tents off to make them lose control. It was Wun-Wun that Great Jon admired most in the great clash, ducking down and grabbing his elephant by the legs and flipping its back and the archer’s tent onto the ground. He could hear the crushing of bones in that instant as elephants fell dead to the ground or crippled and wailing before the giants had put them out of their misery. The ground was already covered in blood as the battle truly began.

Great Jon took a quick glance behind the giants to see that the enemy was starting to push forward in some areas. Cavalry was riding hard for the Northern and Rivermen infantry whilst the Reach and Lannister men were preparing to protect their men from the oncoming Vale Knights that were starting their ride. The Vale cunts are finally useful for something again. Great Jon thought quickly and bitterly. The giants would help to smash those Dornish lines now that the elephants were down. Wun-Wun was already leading them on. Great Jon charged forward as he shouted and bellowed.

“CHARGE NOW!!!! SMASH AS MANY SOUTHERNERS AND KEEP THE FUCKS FROM CIRCLING THE GIANTS ONCE WE’RE PISSING ON THEIR LINES!!!!”

The Northmen answered with a blood curdling roar as they ran behind the Great Jon and the giants. They would have to catch up though. It would be Great Jon Umber that got there first after the giants that had broken through the spear line. I’m not waiting any longer. Great Jon thought with joy as his sword connected with the first three men that had come into his vision in the broken mess. Their swords and spears tried to strike him but his sword had cleaved two before they could even reach him. The third simply hit his sword like a twig to a stone. Jon roared at the little man as he pushed the man’s twig back effortlessly before smashing his skull off in one bloody blow before charging into the next five men. My family doesn’t have house words; a picture paints a thousand words and we are giants breaking from chains.

“UMBER!!!” Jon boomed as his sword met Southern Steel. His Great Sword cutting limbs off every time they struck at him; spraying him with blood before they hit the soft ground.

It hadn’t taken long for Umber to become covered in Andal blood as he pushed forward. He could feel the gore consume his body as he cleaved through the unending masses of prissy southerners. It was fucking glorious as he carved through limbs and torsos like they were water. Jon could see his men in the same bloodlust as him as they cut through the southerners that were trying to make a circle around the giants with their spears. Bones were breaking and being crushed by both the giants and Northmen as they ripped them apart like their King had commanded. Great Jon Umber laughed as he tore through a small wall of men with the Great Sword. They were nothing but sacks of tender meat with fearful faces by the end of their struggle with the Great Jon’s strength. Nothing to an Umber.

And nothing to any Northmen. The Southerners looked like shit in comparison to his Northmen in the Great Jon’s bloodlust eyes. Aye, they had good steel and could fight well but what was an Andal to winter? What was and Andal to the dead? Just another corpse for a Northman. The Great Jon answered as he smashed through the walls of Southerners that he towered over. Their blood joining their fellow soldiers on his sword and whiting beard and hair until he created a lull in enemies to kill. It gave him a moment to see a large volley of arrows fly up toward the battle in the sky and another come immediately after.

Whoresbane is being as relentless as me. Jon thought with a grin as he pushed forward to find more corpses with his Northmen and giants. His only living Uncle was too old to fight now. He was turning into a greybeard before the dragons had come and at this point, he could no longer lift a Great Sword for long without putting strain on him. But that hadn’t stopped his uncle from being a part of this fight. Far from it with his Uncle joining the other one hundred giants and archers in their host under the command of Lord Robbet Glover, Lord Brynden Blackwood and Lord Laurence Hornwood. His Uncle was commanding the giants specifically in hopes of downing or at least harming the dragons. Vengeance for Uncle Mors. It hadn’t surprised Jon that his last living Uncle would be like this. His uncles had bickered all of his life and when Great Jon’s father had been alive, all three of the Umber brothers had. But it should never be said that they weren’t brothers. The grief that had come when his father died hadn’t left Mors and Hother. And it hadn’t left for Hother now that he was the last of them. Nor had the giant’s rage. The rage that was coursing through the Lord of Last Hearth’s veins.

“Come and fight me you fucks!!!!” Great Jon and his forces boomed as he pushed into another line of Southerners before a mix of Vale and Northern Cavalry charged through into the enemy’s left flank. My King will charge the front soon with the wolves next. Great Jon thought happily. The howls of wolves from the king in the North’s Vanguard answered his thoughts as they started a thundering charge from their own lines.

Great Jon Umber smashed his skull against a Southerner he had picked up as he watched his King ride for the Targaryens from a distance. The Great Jon grinned a blood-soaked smile. As Howls filling the air.

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!!!!”

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!!!!”

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!!!!”

Daenerys

Daenerys had smirked at first upon seeing the great beast fly over the rebel host. It had felt like the gods had answered and provided her with another child that had been searching to join her and end the usurpers. Another child to bring fire and blood. A child to secure her reign above all else. That had changed in an instant as she felt the heat and hatred practically oozing from its giant yellow eyes as it looked directly at her dragons. Her smirk vanished when she realised that it was roaring a challenge against her children. When the fire was not directed towards the usurpers but her children and Against her. Hot anger seeped through Daenerys as her children had answered it with their own roars.

And her anger had turned to fury now in the air as she went to attack the usurper.

Daenerys felt more furious than the flames of her children as she circled around the behemoth that had betrayed its kin for the usurpers. Betrayed me. Daenerys thought angrily as she watched another burst of flames hit the giant dragon and dodged a volley of giant and human arrows that had flown through the skies towards her. The dragon seemed unfazed by the flames. It didn’t seem fazed by the stray arrows that hit its scales with them bouncing off the beast. The beast was simply snarling and grinning as it circled around and tried to swipe her with its claws. Drogon moved quickly to avoid it and another volley of arrows but Daenerys could feel the power behind the swipe as its savage claws went above her and Drogon. Power that should belong to me. It was unnatural for a dragon to betray her. Dragons belonged to the Valyrians and Targaryens were the last true Dragon Lords. She was the last true dragon so it should have bent to her. It was only Euron’s blood magic that had perverted Viserion into the beast she had to put down. It was Aegon’s drop of dragon blood that had allowed him to ride Rhaegal and split her child’s loyalties. And now it is Northern magic that steals another of my children.

“Dracarys!!!!”

The word burst from her lips like the flames that followed as Rhaegal and Drogon breathed at the traitor. Once again, the great black dragon seemed unperturbed by the power of her flames. She wasn’t surprised. Fire couldn’t truly harm a dragon. Daenerys just wanted to prove the strength of her children’s flames against this great beast. And now she would use that power to distract the traitor that was clawing at her children with predatory eyes fixed on them. It was large but slower than her dragons. Its size would be its weakness and Drogon would prove himself the most powerful. The Stallion that Mounts the World.

“DRACARYS!!!””

Another great burst of flames erupted from her dragons. This time from above on the beast’s back. The dragon once again looked unbothered as its hulking body and wings changed direction so it could fly upward and meet her challenge. Daenerys smirked as she directed Drogon and Rhaegal to fly down whilst it readjusted, going behind its tower like tail and down towards its underbelly. To her shock, the belly looked scaled like the rest of its body. It wouldn’t matter. It was still the underbelly and would be softer like the neck. Her children knew what to do for her as they instinctively started clawing at the underbelly with the fury the same fury that was coursing through her veins. I am your master. She felt powerful as the two clawed relentlessly at the beast’s belly until it gave a deafening roar that signalled for her dragons to move away. My children only ever roared like that when in pain.

“Downward!!!” Daenerys shouted in High Valyrian as an idea came to her head.

Her dragons dived down on command, heading straight to the battle below her. Daenerys could release a burst fire onto the battle below to prove that she could contend with both a dragon and the usurpers’ army. Daenerys smiled as her children dived down into the air, feeling the power of the air around them as she flanked to avoid another volley of arrows. I’ll burn them first. Daenerys thought as she flew downward to the screams of battle. The usurper above was still circling itself. She flew downward until an arrow hit Drogon in his back foot. Daenerys cursed as she saw the giant arrow that had lodged through her child and caused it to roar angrily. Her child started to level and fly upward to regain a distance before diving back towards the battle at a better angle. Rhaegal followed suit until another deafening roar consumed the world. Daenerys only needed to look up to see that the beast had finished repositioning itself and was coming down towards her.

Daenerys flew her children upwards towards the usurper. I’ll burn them the next time after tricking the beast again. Daenerys vowed as her dragons moved upwards, getting faster and faster. She was going to claw past the belly again at any open wounds she had created before flying above the dragon whilst it descended. Keeping her ahead of its every move. What is a dragon if it cannot dominate the skies in speed? Nothing. That was Daenerys’ answer as her dragons made their way to the underbelly again. That isn’t right. Daenerys thought furiously as her dragons went close to the underbelly and started to claw viciously. There were no open wounds on the beast. No fallen scales or blood dripping from her previous attack. There were barely scratches on the midnight scales from her view. There wasn’t a wound made or being made as her dragons clawed away and tried to tear with their teeth. The black dragon gave another deafening roar. It sounds like it is in pain though. Daenerys thought as she directed her dragons upward behind its gargantuan tail.

I’ll go for the neck this time and have its corpse crush the usurpers and any that would try. Daenerys decided as she shouted more commands to her dragons. And then another volley of arrows came up into the sky. Daenerys watched Drogon dodge the large arrows with ease, only taking minor hits from smaller arrows that didn’t even do damage. Drogon’s scales had become thicker over time. As had Rhaegal’s; effortlessly avoiding the mortal arrows until she heard a roar of pain from a giant arrow that had went through its right thigh. Her child roared in pain as it readjusted itself.

The pained roar was drowned out by the behemoth as it flew up, its claws at the head as it charged right at Rhaegal. Her child tried to dodge but the claws were at Rhaegal’s tail before it could move. Daenerys watched in fury as one claw grabbed the tail completely without the need of the other. Its yellows glinted with savage glee as it held Rhaegal’s tail while her child struggled to break free from its grip. But Rhaegal wasn’t strong enough and the claw too powerful… Too savage and vicious as it slowly put more and more pressure on the tail. She could see the blood seeping out of the scales. But She couldn’t hear her dragon’s screams over that relentless roar. Daenerys tried to charge at the gleefully vicious eyes but the other claw swiper Drogon back to the side. Drogon roared angrily at this and charged again only for the claw to swipe again whilst the monster bared its teeth further.

And then Rhaegal’s scream overwhelmed the deafening roar of the monster for a moment as the dragon ripped Rhaegal’s tail off violently in one swift motion. Daenerys watched in fury as dragon blood spluttered out of her child into the sky as Rhaegal flew away from the monster and back to Drogon’s side. Daenerys could see the blood out of her child’s tail flowing freely as it flew.

“Dracarys!!” Daenerys shouted in hopes that fire could cauterise dragon flesh once the scales had been ripped apart.

Drogon’s flames poured over the wound. Rhaegal screamed from the fire but to her relief the bleeding stopped at the wound. Rhaegal’s wings steadied as its screams subsided. The great dragon’s roars didn’t as it beat its great wings like thunder in the air. Daenerys turned her gaze back to the monster. Its yellow eyes had a savage joy to them as it looked at the tai it was still holding like a prize before throwing it above into the air. Daenerys followed the tail with her eyes, dropping downward as the beast opened its giant mouth and grabbed the tail with its teeth, spearing into the scales. Daenerys looked in disgust as the beast ripped and bit into the tail until there was nothing left of it. All of it had been eaten with a savage hunger her children had never had.

It’s a Cannibal. A monster. Daenerys realised with renewed fury as two hungry eyes looked at her children like prey.

Jorah

It had been nearly four decades since Robert’s Rebellion when Jorah was a man of fifteen and not inn his fifties. But the memory of when the raven had come from the Mad King informing all Northern houses of what he had done was still as clear as day in his mind. His Father and Aunt Maege had been furious. Words could not describe the rage that had practically pulsated off the two as they read the words in the long hall of Bear Island. His Father and Aunt had stormed out of the hall after giving a half-growled order for him to run the hall and gather the men in the port and have the ships ready within a fortnight. Jorah hadn’t dared question his father and Aunt on where they were going. He didn’t see them until two weeks later with an army at their back. The two had went around the entire island and gathered as many Bear Islanders as they could possibly find and spare. They’d gathered the Mormont army personally without sending riders to villages or sending ravens. The Mormonts had their forces ready to move to the mainland by the time the ravens had come from Winterfell and the Vale from Benjen and Ned Stark.

Bear Island was not a populous Island. But it was a large one and the fact that two furious Mormonts had covered the island in that time and rallied as many men and women spoke volumes of what a Northman could do when threatened. That was what Jorah had feared the moment he realised what his Queen had accidently done by burning Arya Stark and Thousands of Northmen to death at the wall. His Aunt included. She would have been the one calling me kin slayer that if she had been alive. Daenerys Targaryen had woken that action by bringing fire and blood.

And they have brought something from nightmares to show the North Remembers. Jorah thought as he looked momentarily at the great black behemoth that was three times the size of Drogon. It was a miracle that their forces hadn’t fled at the sight. Some had tried from behind but Tarly placed commanders at the rear and had cut them down as a message. Aegon had rallied the men at the front as well which had prevented any routs. Jorah didn’t think running would make a difference for the men. If his Queen lost, they would still die by Northern hands. The North Remembers. And should his Queen win, they would be burnt or executed for fleeing.

It would make fighting in battle the easiest choice for them. Even if it was against Northmen, Rivermen, Vale men, Wolves and Giants. Jorah didn’t truly have a choice like all of the other men in the host. He loved his Queen and would be loyal to her. He had chosen that long ago and would not shirk from it. Even if she didn’t make it easy. What she had done at the Wall had further driven a wedge between him and his family who had all but disowned him for a crime he had committed. It was my decision. Daenerys’ actions are as much mine as hers. Jorah knew Mormont banners would be hunting him on this field. And Daenerys’ attempt to burn God’s Eye went against his own faith. Jorah hadn’t been able to look at her attempt before Cannibal’s arrival. Looking away. Another thing Father wouldn’t approve of. Jorah thought solemnly as he battled away.

Jorah was currently near the front; having moved there once the battle had begun where he could get a clear view of the battle. Jorah was also near the King as he ordered commands along the lines. The Royal Host was doing its best to follow the orders as they followed the plan concocted by Tarly and Aegon. The plan to push back the enemy cavalry and eventually encircle the host between the army and the lake after harrying the enemy infantry with their cavalry. It was an effective one due to the number of Dornish Spears and Pike Men from the Reach and superior numbers to trap them there. And thankfully a one that didn’t require the need for dragons on the field to press an advantage. Tarly never once mentioned the dragons in the meeting. Jorah remembered. Although it had been assumed by some in the Queen’s camp that the dragons would be able to help with the push after burning a large portion of the enemy; making their work redundant. He was glad of it as he caught a glimpse of the hard battle that was going on above.

You will win Khaleesi. Jorah hoped. As would the Royal Host if it could be helped. From Jorah’s vantage point, he could see that certain elements of the plan were holding. Jorah could see some Lannister and Reach lines holding against the Vale cavalry and Rivermen’s horses. His own lines with the company and King weren’t yet touched. But it was hard to ignore the ferocity of the rebel host as giants and Northmen tore into the mix of Dornish and Reach lines after cutting down the elephants that had been sent to break the lines. The sight of giants on the field had been planned for by Tarly but the presence of Northmen behind the giants had prevented the Pike Men and spearmen from encircling and spearing them from behind. The Giants had thoroughly smashed through the lines and had made the Dornish fight more individually. And for a mix of Northern and Vale cavalry to cut in at their flank for the company.

“REINFORCE THE LEFT FLANK!!” Aegon yelled at the Company and Reach Men near him.

Jorah was looking forward though to where the howls were coming from. The bulk of the Northern infantry and an enormous pack of wolves was charging at them to attack from the front as well as the left flank. And at the head of them was a pack of riders. Jorah could see a mix of shields with the colours from the North and others he did not recognise. Umber, Karstark, Glover, Norrey, Flint and Mormont. All of the Vanguard brought a bit of fear to Jorah’s body as he fought. But it was the wolves in the centre wearing Stark colours that brought them the most.

They’re charging for the King. Jorah knew as he listened to the King in the North’s howl before their clash.

Hope you all enjoyed it! As you can see the battle is unfurling at all angles here and I've tried tae get as many perspectives as possible. Next chapter is the second part of the battle where you'll see Jon versus Aegon and more of Daenerys versus Cannibal.

Feel free tae comment and ask questions as always.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 39: The Battle of God's Eye: Part Two

Very sorry fir the delay. This chapter took quite a bit. It is the last major battle of the story and Jon and Daenery' POVS took some thinking.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it!!

Feel free tae comment as always.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Daenerys

Daenerys was furious as her children fought the monster before them. The one that dared eat a part of her child. It had forced Daenerys to think more clearly on how to kill a dragon bigger than her own. With Viserion; Drogon and Rhaegal had proven to be the larger and more ferocious even with Euron’s blood magics. And Daenerys had thought the same if the time came where she would have to end Rhaegal to end her husband; loathe as she was to kill her child even if it had betrayed her. But now she was facing something bigger than Drogon and with thicker scales than she possibly imagined.

This will prove I am the true dragon all the more when I kill it. Daenerys assured herself as she flew upwards and above the great monstrosity that was savagely grinning at Rhaegal as it watched him struggle to fly well with the loss of her child’s tail. I am not prey. I am your Queen. Daenerys had decided her best chance at defeating the beast was to blind it first. Blinding those demonic yellow eyes would give her the reign to move as she liked without a problem. Then she would cripple its wings and sending it falling to the ground. Right into the army below her. Its hulking mass would crush her enemies on both sides.

Daenerys commanded her dragons to dive downward so they could claw at its eyes as the monster flew upward. Daenerys could feel the speed of Drogon as they hurtled down to claw and rip at the beast’s left eye. She knew her child would enjoy it proving he was the Dragon that would conquer even this. Rhaegal followed more clumsily as it tried to dive down in a straight line towards the right eye.

“DRACARYS!!!” Daenerys commanded.

Her children burst flames as they came downward; hoping to distract the monster of its intentions. The monster didn’t seem perturbed or aware of her plans as its powerful wings continued to bring it upward instead of avoiding her attack. As it opened its mouth… Almost as if it was beckoning for her to become food at will. Daenerys scowled. I will burn your bones when I am done.

They were nearly there at those eyes. Daenerys could feel the heat from the monster’s mouth as she got closer to its head. She was almost close enough to hit the eyes.

And then the beast rolled. Daenerys looked with shock as the beast rolled out of her way in the air with a speed, she did not expect from such a great beast. It was still a slower roll than any of her children but it was enough to completely avoid her dive; forcing Drogon to pull up. Rhaegal followed suit; albeit much slower as it tried to regain balance.

The Monster was above them now; looking down on them like they were prey. Only its bright yellow eyes illuminated anything.

“I am the dragon!!” Daenerys spat back into the sky.

The monster roared in response. It felt like it was mocking its Queen.

And so were the crows as she noticed a murder flying upwards from God’s Eye towards her. Daenerys cursed as the murder flew up around her children; consuming them in more darkness. Her children started clawing at the crows as they swarmed around them. She felt another giant arrow her child’s foot before Daenerys gave another shout.

“DRACARYS!!!”

The fires burst some of the crows into flames; giving a clearer view and sending them downward again towards the God’s Eye. It gave her enough time for Drogon to dodge the great claw of the monster that came for her. Drogon managed to evade the creature as it went for them; roaring angrily at the demon with pain. As she looked back, Daenerys could see that the claw had made its way through her child’s back. Daenerys could see the claw had ripped flesh. She could see the other giant arrow that had went through her child’s foot alongside a hail of other normal sized ones.

Rhaegal looked worse as Daenerys caught a glimpse of her other child. The crows and Rhaegal’s lost tail had given the archers a more stationary target; allowing more arrows to penetrate her child. She could see arrows that had pierced where Rhaegal’s tail used to be. Giant arrows lodged in its feet. And in Rhaegal’s wings. Her child was struggling now as it roared in pain; scales falling and blood dripping out of its wounds.

Daenerys screamed angrily as she shouted for her children to fly upward again towards the beast. Drogon moved with speed up and around the great monstrosity. Daenerys could feel the power and anger of her child as it did that. Drogon was as angry as her. Rhaegal sounded more whining than angry as it tried to ascend with her; Drogon speeding far from his brother. Good.

That was what Daenerys needed now. Her child would have to be the distraction for the monster whilst Drogon clawed its eyes out. A penance for betraying me for Aegon. Daenerys thought as she pushed back the love for Rhaegal that she offered whenever Aegon was not near her child in order to coax it back to her. Drogon flew up as the monster moved towards Rhaegal; her child still trying to fly up now that Drogon was above the beast and ready to fly down and succeed.

Drogon dived downwards towards the monster whilst it looked gleefully at Rhaegal; giant claws and wings beating towards it. Daenerys felt the power of her child once again as they cut through the sky down towards her prey; getting closer and closer to the monster. It isn’t looking this time to see me. It won’t be able to stop us.

The monster rolled, roared and slammed its claws into Drogon’s torso; pushing her child and some of his scales far away from her target.

And away from Rhaegal as it was grabbed by the other giant’s claws. This time grabbing Rhaegal by the neck. Blood shot out of Rhaegal’s mouth like a fountain as the life left its eyes in an instant. The sound of the windpipe crushing into nothing could be heard throughout the sky. Daenerys looked with transfixed eyes as Rhaegal’s roars and screams ended with a single crush to its neck. The Monster roared joyously at the sound; bringing her child to its mouth and beginning the process of devouring her child with the speed of a starved animal.

It was unnatural and horrifying to watch as the monster ripped and tore at Rhaegal with an eagerness that Daenerys had never seen on anything. Green scales and flesh ripped off her child like they were nothing as they fell into the monster’s mouth. Blood dropped by the gallon as wings were ripped off and bones were spat back out and down to the lake as the great beast feasted; yellow eyes glistening in ecstasy as it took every piece of flesh from Rhaegal’s body. Then it clawed and Rhaegal’s head. Ripping each eye out individually before using its teeth to crack the skull open and feast on the brain. More blood falling into the sky until there was no flesh on the skull that dropped into the lake. The Monster turned towards them; its teeth covered in blood and its yellow eyes brighter and more savage than before. Its wings beating more powerfully. Daenerys was speechless. The monster had done it so fast that Daenerys had been unable to stop it. Unable to command Drogon to make another move whilst it feasted. They had simply hovered in the sky and watched as a monster devoured her child.

Daenerys screamed with rage as the Giant arrows struck Drogon’s wings.

Jon

Ghost was the first to smash at the Golden Company’s lines at the right flank in the hunt for the Southern King. For Prey. The weight of his body had crushed and crippled two of the soldiers holding shields at the front in the charge. Ghost could hear their screams before one of his pack jammed its teeth into the crippled soldier to feast on whilst Ghost ripped the other’s throat out. Blood dripped from Ghost’s mouth; his teeth glistening with blood. The entire pack was be the same as the wolves of the North howled and clawed at the Southerners that they had waited so long to feast on. Ghost wouldn’t feast truly yet though. Not until he got to their leader. For the pack murderer . Thought of the killer of his kin made Ghost charge faster; his teeth slamming into more throats and torsos with their flesh flying into the air once Ghost was done with it.

Ghost howled angrily; charging and mauling another piece of prey as he hunted for the King.

His littermates answered it with their own howls as Shaggydog and Nymeria cut through their prey to join him at his sides. Their prey tried to strike at Shaggy with spears but Nymeria answered it by jumping onto them as Shaggy tore into them. Nymeria was the most protective of his littermates and the Direwolves that had been sired by Ghost and Shaggy’s mates. The most defensive of any of the wolves that were a part of the pack. Something from her nature and their dead kin that had joined her for a time before fading into the crypts. Ghost howled with his kin as the two joined him; their furs as bloody as him. The howl was more than enough to spur his kin onward, three sets of teeth baring as they ripped corpses apart. For the Pack.

The taste of blood was already in Jon’s mouth before the vanguard and the infantry behind him smashed the opening lines of the enemy. Joining with Ghost when the Direwolf and the pack tore into the front lines of the right flank. It had been instinctive to do it for Jon. He couldn’t wait any longer to taste blood.

“CHARGE THE FUCKERS!!!!” Jon howled as his Vanguard battered into the lines before him; Ice decapitating any corpse that came near to them. His horse pushing forward with the same fury that Jon felt coursing through his veins as he cut through the men before him as brutally and quickly as possible. He could hear every pained wail as he gutted them to death and dismembered them alongside his fellow Northmen. Jon didn’t care about the pain they felt as he rode through them and drenched Ice in Southern blood. All he could see was the thousands of charred bodies of his people. All he could see was Arya’s burnt corpse as Nymeria howled and Uncle Benjen wept in the ashes and snow.

Jon snarled uncontrollably; impaling a man with Ice and unsheathing it from the man’s right side. Guts and blood fell to the field. It hadn’t taken long for this part of the field to turn into a bloody mess. Jon wasn’t the only one feeling ruthless in the Vanguard as they rode forward. One only needed to look at his wife and Rickon to see that; teeth bared like the wolves they were. Val piercing men’s throats with her spear and Rickon impaling men in abundance.

“COME OUT AND DIE AEGON!!!” Jon bellowed as he cut through more of the lines; his sword becoming bloodier and bloodier.

His Birth Father had said similar words when Lyanna Stark had been taken by Rhaegar. I’ll get the justice you demanded with his spawn. Jon thought as Ice drew more blood. The chant spread amongst the Vanguard. Rickon, Val, Ned Umber, Aemon Steel Song, Toregg the Tall, Gawen Glover, Beron Talhart, Sigorn’s son Mance and Alsyane’s son Jeor and daughter Dacey. Everyone of them chanted the words as they thundered forward; joined by the Vale and Northern cavalry that had come from the left flank. Joined by the howls of the wolves to the right flank and the roars of Cannibal above.

“COME OUT AND DIE AEGON!!!”

“COME OUT AND DIE AEGON!!!”

“COME OUT AND DIE AEGON!!!”

Jon could smell their fear on them. They were shaken by Cannibal and him ripping Rhaegal’s tail off to feast on. They were afraid of the wolves and Giants. Afraid of Northmen. Afraid of him. But none of that mattered to Jon. Not when he could see Aegon finally coming forward on his horse. Jon snarled at the sight of him; adorned in a black and red armour surrounded by white cloaks of the King’s Guard and their reserve cavalry behind. He could hear him giving orders to push back. Nobody in the army would let that happen from lord Royce’s Vale knights to the Tully rivermen to Jon’s Northmen. They’ll die. Jon’s growl grew louder as he continued to charge. He could feel the urge to push himself further forward from the Vanguard than he already was.

“VAL!!!! LEAVE THE VAN AND TAKE COMMAND OF THE INFANTRY AND HAVE THEM SLAUGHTER EVERYONE ON THE GROUND!!!!” Jon roared at his wife.

Val simply grinned at him as she slowed her horse; bellowing orders at the infantry behind them to slow and move positions. He was confident with her in charge of them alongside Cerwyn the Flint brothers and Lady Lyessa Flint.

“AND ME BROTHER?!!!” Rickon bellowed back as his horse pulled up beside him; his face and blue-grey eyes filled with a savage rage almost akin to Jon. He lost Arya too.

Jon grinned at his brother. “COMMAND THE VANGUARD!!! HELP ME GET TO HIM AND SLAUGHTER HIS RESERVES AFTER THE KING’S GUARD WITH THE VALE!!!!”

His brother grinned back as he redirected his horse to start carving a path; the Vanguard following. Jon kept pushing forward and cutting more corpses; Aegon getting closer and closer. He could hear Ghost and the pack all howling. They know he’s here.

The vanguard didn’t take long to reach Aegon’s King’s Guard and cavalry; with Rickon stabbing Longclaw right through one of the White cloaks’ eyes and Gawen Glover at the same time cutting the man’s arm off. All of his Vanguard was firmly focused on the King’s Guard and cavalry in front of them. Jon could see their ferocity as they carved through the riders and split them off. Jon continued riding forward through the growing gap in the carnage; eyes firmly fixed on Aegon.

“COME OUT AND DIE AEGON!!!!” Jon howled at the spawn opposite him.

And the spawn answered; charging with a lance. Jon snarled and charged at the spawn as Aegon rode towards him. Jon held Ice firmly as he rode. A part of Jon wished this were Robb here instead. He was the better of the two in fighting with and against a lance. I promised you vengeance as well brother in the crypts. I’ll not fail here. He could smell the charred corpses again as his blood started pumping faster and faster. He could hear the screams Jon had imagined his sister giving as the fire consumed her. Howls escaping his lips as the wolf and dragon charged at each other. Then Jon stopped dead the horse dead in his tracks once the two were extremely close. It was a trick Robb had used on him when they were young. It always knocked him off trying to readjust and avoid crashing into Robb’s horse; and allowed Robb to knock Jon off his horse with the lance from the side. Jon had never been able to repeat it with a lance; taking too much concentration between horse and a lance he’d never been able to use well. But as a skin changer. And with Ice…

Aegon’s stature changed in the ride to prevent himself from slamming into a stopped horse; moving further to the side and repositioning his lance to strike at a less awkward angle. Jon howled in response; kicking the horse forward slightly into Aegon’s horse and swinging Ice directly at the lance. Ice broke it in half. Jon growled and swung Ice again before Aegon could push his horse away and cut the horse’s neck. The horse went down as it wailed; Aegon holding on as the horse hit the ground. Jon howled as he dismounted from his own horse; feet landing into the blood and gore as the Vanguard and cavalry formed a line in front of them to keep them from getting to him. But they’ll see the longer they live. Jon thought as he bellowed at Aemon and Toregg whilst waiting for the spawn to get back up off his dead horse. Give me a fight.

“GO GET SOME INFANTRY NOW TO DRAG THE SPAWN BACK!!!!”

His nephew and Toregg did not hesitate; spurring their forces away from the clashing cavalry and towards his Northern footmen. Jon looked at Aegon with contempt and hate as the spawn of the South stood and unsheathed his sword. The spawn was wearing a helmet so Jon couldn’t see his reaction to him. He couldn’t see the scars he had given him for what he’d taken. Jon could smell the anger though on him as he made a stance. Mine’s worse. Jon’s Wolfblood raged through him; howls getting louder as he ran at him and swung with Ice. The spawn dodged it quickly and aimed to parry him with his sword. Jon deflected it quickly with Ice. Aegon grunted angrily and started sending angry blows towards him. Aegon was quick and efficient. Talented. Jon could see that much on the dragon spawn with each strike, parry and thrust. Arya would have been better. Jon howled as he deflected every blow of Aegon; the two swords singing as they collided with each other. Aegon kept going at Jon relentlessly; occasionally getting a strike to Jon’s armour; albeit never enough to do anything but get Jon’s blood pumping faster. Umber had trained him to understand that wielding a Great Sword meant that enemies with tooth picks for weapons could get in every now again through defences. But that didn’t mean Jon wasn’t quick enough to prevent damage. Jon was quick enough to shift Aegon’s sword at the hardest pieces of his Northern armour so it wouldn’t pierce and instead wear at Aegon’s sword and reserves of energy. And make me angrier with every moment he breathes easy.

Jon growled again as Aegon made another attempt at striking his armour. Jon didn’t hesitate to dodge and duck with speed; smashing Ice right in Aegon’s torso. The black and red armour smashed as Aegon grunted in pain. Jon barely gave him time to react; howling as he relentlessly hammered Ice into Aegon’s sword and forcing the spawn that burnt his people to move backwards. Jon’s growls grew angrier with every strike; feeling the steel before him wear to Valyrian Steel. The spawn finally formed up and sidestepped him. Jon followed suit with Ice swinging into the dragon’s ribcage. The armour cracked at the side as Aegon gasped in pain. He screamed when Ice smashed into the armour again a second later. Not enough pain as the pain my sister felt. Jon howled again as he struck the cracking armour at his side; sending Aegon back again and again until the spawn managed to duck before Ice could arrive and attempt another strike. Jon simply moved back as Aegon made the attempt and swung at the spawn’s dragon helmet. It cracked too and forced Aegon further backwards. The spawn was still in pain from Jon’s attacks to make a true move; taking his damaged helmet off. Jon could see the scars he had given him all of those years ago. The not quite healed jaw. The slightly odd nose. Ugly lines across his face; barely hidden by that ethereal hair. You did worse when you burnt my people. You made my sister a burnt corpse. The hatred was coursing through Jon’s blood. And he could see the dripping of blood from the spawn’s side as he made a distance for himself to recompose. I won’t let him breathe. Jon thought as he started to charge and make another relentless barrage against him. I’ll make you look worse for what you did.

And then the downpour of blood came from above. It came down like rain; covering the cavalry before them. Covering Jon and the spawn. Jon could see Aegon and the cavalry look up in hope that it was Cannibal’s blood. The Northern and Vale cavalry didn’t look up. And neither did Jon. They didn’t need to when that hope turned to horror in an instant. The Dragon Spawn’s face was especially mournful. His died first. Aegon screamed as he charged at him; coming at him with speed and ferocity. Jon grinned and snarled as he quickly dodged, taking Ice in one hand so he could punch the spawn in the face. The force of it knocked what teeth had been left in the Dragon Spawn as he barrelled over to the side. Jon grabbed Ice with both hands again and bashed the hilt of the ancestral sword onto his spine.

The Dragon Spawn crashed to the ground. Sword dropping out of his hand. Jon growled as he kicked the dragon’s sword away; dragon blood still falling from the sky as he moved to kick Aegon onto his back. The King of the South tried to reach on his back for the sword; unaware that Jon had kicked it away. Jon jammed Ice into the reaching hand; piercing through the red gauntlets. Aegon screamed painfully. Not enough. Jon unsheathed needle from his back; taking Arya’s sword and jamming it into Aegon’s other hand and locking him firmly into the ground. He tried to kick as he screamed. You killed my people. You burnt them. Jon removed the black knife from his greaves; jamming it into a crack in the armour and right into the ribcage. Aegon screamed as Jon used the knife as leverage to rip some of the armour off; snarls dominating the air.

And then Jon kneeled; slamming his right knee into Aegon’s stomach before punching him in the face repeatedly with fury. All thoughts left Jon’s mind as he punched his prey. Blood spurting out of the spawn’s face. Only a single word left in his mind and voice as he punched.

“ARYA!!!!”

Jon howled the name as he ripped the King of the South’s ears and nose off; spitting them back into his face one at a time before punching again and again.

Val

How many Andals have I slain now? Val wondered as she removed her spear from another Southerner; his corpse dripping to the ground like the rest that had fallen either by her spear or that of the Northern infantry she was commanding whilst the vanguard harried Aegon’s reserve cavalry with the wolves and Vale cavalry. And while Jon deals with Aegon. Val had seen the flash in his eyes when he had seen the dragon and told her to command the infantry. His eyes had looked more feral than she’d ever seen in him. And the dragon blood dropping from the sky will have made him more bloodthirsty. Rhaegal’s death by Cannibal and the blood that had fallen over the battle had invigorated the Northmen and put her people into more of a frenzy than before; fighting more harshly and brutally than they already were. Val had heard their chants for Cannibal. Their chants for the Northern archers and giants that had been hammering arrows of Weirwood and Ironwood into the dragons’ wings. Their chants for her and Jon.

Our Chants for victory and Vengeance. Val thought proudly. The fight was in their favour. The Northmen and the Southerners that Sansa had rallied knew it as they continued to split and cut the enemy lines; some herding Targaryen loyalists towards the lake, other crushing them into each other only to be savaged by the pack of wolves. And the Mormonts hunting their traitorous kin. Val thought as she saw the group of Bear Islanders charging forward with the Karstarks and Thenns.

The enemy knew the battle was in the North’s favour as well as she saw the increasing fear in their eyes before striking them down with her spear. That fear didn’t leave their eyes when they hit the ground. They died afraid of what was happening. Val grinned as she powered on through the increasingly smashed lines; blood splattering over her armour as her and her forces turned the lines into stragglers on this flank.

Then her nephew and Toregg rode towards her with blood-soaked grins on their faces; their swords and spears dripping with blood as the two tore through Southerners to reach her position.

“Jon’s got the kneeler down!!!!”

Her Nephew’s words got the Northmen roaring again as they cut down the last stragglers of the flank; their faces turned to dread as they got cut down.

“FUCKING KNEELERS!!! THEY’VE GOT NO FIGHT LEFT IN THEM!!!!” Val shouted with her spear raised in the air to the Northmen behind her.

“THE QUEEN IN THE NORTH!!!!”

“THE QUEEN IN THE NORTH!!!!”

Val grinned as she turned her gaze to her nephew; his smile like Mance’s.

“Was the fight over between the two?” Val asked quickly.

Aemon shook his head. “Uncle Jon and the bastard were on the ground after Jon got him off his horse. He ordered me to get some people to carry the bastard back once he’d beat him.”

Val nodded before barking at some of the Northern commanders in the infantry.

“CERWYN AND FLINT! TAKE COMMAND OF THE INFANTRY AND FLANK THE ANDALS TO THE RIGHT!!”

Cley Cerwyn and Donnel Flint nodded as they started to rally the Northmen. It didn’t take much as she saw them run forward to help finish some of the more intact lines; leaving Val with Aemon, Toregg, Artos Flint and her spear wives headed by Karsi. Val didn’t need to give the orders as they started to run in the direction of the battle Aemon had come from. She could hear the clashes of steel, howling of wolves and thundering of hooves merging with Cannibal’s massive roars above them. It was the bloodiest battle Val had ever been a part of.

Val was riding at speed from the front with the horse Aemon had given her. She didn’t need to be the one to go bring Aegon back into their camp. Not out of worry for Jon being defeated on the ground. That wasn’t a possibility. They’d trained too long for that. It was whether he went too far and killed him in battle. She’d seen the Wolfblood erupt in the Vanguard. She’d seen his eyes flash Weirwood red like they had when he’d returned from the dead. Her husband had waited a long time for this and Val could see him finally slipping and beating the dragons to death when he got a hold of them both. And he’ll regret it if he goes too far. Val knew that much too. Jon wanted them to die in the North and not have an honourable death in battle. “Too good for the spawn that burnt my sister to a husk.”

Words she had heard that were colder than winter beyond the wall.

“Faster!!” Val yelled as she got closer towards the large mass of cavalry before her. And in front of Jon.

The Northern and Vale Cavalry that had been under command of Lord Andar Royce and his son had joined up with the Northern Vanguard being led by Rickon; savaging as many Southerners as possible. Longclaw looking as bloody as ever like all of the army from dead Andals to the blood of Rhaegal. The wolves were there too; Ghost, Shaggy and Nymeria leading their pack into the horses’ throats. She could see their lines keep moving forward; chants for Jon escaping with their growls.

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!!!!!”

Pushing the Southerners to oblivion.

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!!!!!!”

Leaving them to only watch hopelessly as Jon savagely beat one of the dragons that killed thousands of Northerners.

“ARYA!!!!”

Val could hear Jon’s howls for his sister as he repeatedly punched Aegon’s body and face. Needle jammed in one hand and Ice in the other. The black knife of Jon’s kilt rammed into the left side of his ribcage. Half of Aegon’s armour smashed and ripped open. She could just hear Aegon’s screams underneath Jon’s snarls and howls.

Val quickly dismounted towards her husband, drenched in the blood of Aegon and Rhaegal as he continued to make the King of the South suffer.

“JON!!!” Val yelled.

He didn’t hear as he stood up; taking Ice out of Aegon’s hand and jamming it in his kneecap before repeating it with Needle. He howled again as he resumed punching the dragon’s ribs. It looked like he was close to trying to rip them out.

“JON!!!!” Val Yelled again as she got closer to him with her group.

He didn’t hear as he punched again and again.

Fifteen years of holding back vengeance. We should have thought about him losing control when he finally had one of them in his hands. Val thought as she got to him. Aegon’s screams were getting weaker. Artos and Toregg arrived and both grabbed Jon’ arms to pull him off. She could see them struggling as Val got in front of Jon.

“KING CROW!!!!” Val bellowed at Jon once she slapped him.

Nobody had called him that in years. The Free Folk all called him The Jon once he had become the King in the North. Val only ever called him it whenever the two had an argument or if the two were feeling like teasing the other.

It seemed to get him to recognise that people were here with him. She only ever called him it in private.

Looking at his face as he looked upward; she could see the savage that had awoken in Jon when he had been brought back from the dead. She could see the flashes of Weirwood red in his feral grey eyes as he looked at her; blood covering the white in his dark beard and hair. Covering the other’s scar over his eye. His bared teeth were covered in blood as well. She’d said he looked like the Old Kings of Winter once when they took back the North. And her people had said the same of him at the wall. But this was what the King of Winter truly looked like when he’d been wronged and allowed to thaw out of the ice. It was primal brutality.

Val glared at him as he stared at her; his eyes turning back to purely savage grey as the red faded. Artos and Toregg moved up to allow their King to stand. He stood quickly; ripping Ice and Needle out of Aegon as he got up. Val took his hand and brought him a few steps away towards the horses. She could see Aemon skin changing to get them under control for the two.

“There’s still the dragon bitch and these kneelers for us to kill.” Val said to him.

“Thank you.” Jon whispered into her ear whilst her forces grabbed Aegon; his breathing ragged and strained as they ran to get him back to the camp. Jon picked her up and put her on one of the horses; his face a snarl and a smile. Val grinned.

“Should we show these kneelers what true leaders look like? And me show you who the better warrior of the two?” Val asked as he mounted his horse.

Jon answered it with another savage grin as the two rode forward; the Vale and Northmen opening up to allow them through. Val could see the fear on the enemy as they realised what was coming; more terrifying than the dragon above.

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!!!!”

“THE QUEEN IN THE NORTH!!!”

Jon howled in response to the chant; ice glistening as the two re-joined the Vanguard to fight the kneelers. Their howls as loud as Cannibal’s roars. And Drogon’s screams.

Daenerys

The giant arrows had finally landed a powerful blow to her child; sending Daenerys and her child into a downward spiral as they lost air. Drogon was screaming in pain as her child hurriedly tried to level out and glide. Daenerys was screaming to at her child’s pain as she held on helplessly. That monster dared harm a true dragon. Dared feast on my child and its kin like the sheep below us. We will destroy it once you have those arrows removed from you. Daenerys clung on to that as they got closer to the ground. Drogon finally levelling out to glide over her army and behind them away from the usurpers before crashing into the ground with little grace; taking some of the camp with them. Daenerys felt the connection with the earth as her entire body shuddered with Drogon until they stopped. Daenerys felt pain in her bones as she stumbled off her child; Drogon managing to lower his neck for her.

“I can’t think about the pain.” Daenerys said to herself as she hastily when to the right wing to begin moving the arrows that had pierced it.

Daenerys looked angrily at the blood that was dripping from her child’s body from both small and large arrows as she found the nearest arrow to remove. Drogon roared in pain as she pulled it out as quickly as possible. It’ll take too long to get them all out alone. Daenerys realised as she threw the first arrow away.

But the Gods were on her side as the sounds of her protector roared into the air.

“KHALEESI!!”

“Jorah!!!!” Daenerys shouted back as she ran to see him approach from the battlefield.

Her protector was covered in blood with his now white hair covered in blood. She could see he was serving her well by that and the presence of Grey worm and the Unsullied behind him. He was the only Northman in the world she trusted. And one of the few people she could trust ever.

Jorah had rushed off his horse and hugged her before shouting orders at the Unsullied to get the arrows out and find as many horses as possible.

“Are you hurt my Queen?” Jorah asked as he let go and reached for an arrow in Drogon to remove.

Daenerys shook her head as she helped with another one.

“I’m angry Jorah. We need to get Drogon in the air to end this. I need to get back up.”

Jorah nodded as he removed another arrow. Drogon screaming but his wings flapping more powerfully as the Unsullied and her loyal knight did their work. They worked fast to remove the arrows from Drogon’s sides and wings; giving the dragon the ability to move its wings again at a better pace. Drogon rose back to its feet; black scales covered in blood as it turned and roared before moving at sped despite the limp. The Unsullied moved out of the way and Jorah pulled her back before she could get her child to pick her up as Drogon flew without her; his eyes alight with feral rage as he flew up shakily towards the monster.

“He needs me up there!” Daenerys exclaimed.

Jorah shook his head. “He wants you safe while he fights for you. The fall could have killed you if you were unlucky.”

“Drogon would have stopped that from happening at any point.” Daenerys replied confidently.

Jorah simply looked up as he spoke; watching Drogon slowly rise towards the monster. “I hope Drogon can win Khaleesi. The battle is not in our favour.”

“Drogon will burn them when this is over. Usurpers and those that didn’t fight like you for their Queen.” Daenerys replied.

We’ll burn the usurpers and those that didn’t fight as loyally as they should once the monster is gone. Daenerys thought as she watched her child roaring flames in challenge.

The monster responded with its own giant breath of fire; flying through it like a demon might in the seven hells. Drogon shakily dodged the beast; flying upwards slowly to try for the eyes again. She could see the pain in her child as Drogon used all of its effort to get towards the eyes and claw. The monster flew downward in response to it; creating a large distance between her child and the monster. Then it turned and flew up slowly; mouth opening once again and breathing fire upwards. Yellow eyes blazing through the flames. Drogon started flying to the left side to avoid the slowly rising monster.

And the arrows struck once again.

This time it didn’t seem like a single arrow had missed as they all landed into Drogon’s wings; sending skin and blood flying into the air as her child’s were shred into nothing but bone. Drogon’s roars were more than pained. Daenerys’ screams at her child were excruciating as she watched the wings turn into nothing but blood.

For her child’s neck to get grabbed by the monster’s fangs.

It wasn’t as forceful as with Rhaegal. Not enough power to crush the windpipe. Daenerys could hear her only child’s screams to know that. It was the only thing that could be heard except for the monster’s roars and the howls of wolves.

Crushing the windpipe had been intentional. The monster wanted a slow feast as it used its claws to slowly rip the black scales from Drogon’s torso and pick at the flesh whilst her child screamed slowly. To rip each leg off and individually and eating it with its back teeth while the front held Drogon in place. To slowly pick out his blood red eyes and eat them slowly. To eat a dragon raw and alive. The monster had clearly avoided the organs that would kill Drogon as it focused on everything else as it gradually deboned her child. Blood falling to the lake and earth. Her child screaming in pain as its body turned to bone.

The last thing Daenerys saw of her child was the monster rip Drogon’s heart out. Drogon gave one last scream before the monster gleefully took the rest of the flesh from his head and other parts of the body. Leaving only bones in the lake and dragon blood over her army.

Daenerys stood firmly in the ground as her tears fell to the earth. The world felt like it was gone until Jorah shouted at her with Grey Worm bringing her a horse.

“YOU NEED TO GO NOW!!!” Jorah bellowed as he pulled her up; hugging and kissing her forehead briefly before putting her on a horse.

Daenerys didn’t get time to respond as he slapped her horse and sent her off with Grey Worm and most of the Unsullied; her protector heading back to the battlefield with a small number of Unsullied.

“My children are dead.” Daenerys muttered to herself as she whimpered. Her horse thundering away as crows followed from above.

Tyrion

Seeing the Queen’s Dragon return to the air with arrows piercing its sides and wings only for more of the rebels’ arrows to shred the wings was tragic… For the monster to grab Drogon’s neck by its fangs and start ripping flesh apart with its claws; gradually and ferociously eating every bit of Drogon’s body until there was nothing but gallons of blood and piles of bones falling into the lake where Rhaegal’s bones had fallen only a few minutes ago. It was horrific. The worst thing he had seen in his life. But it didn’t match the screams that had come from Drogon as the Northern monster slowly feasted. Taking its time and making Drogon’s death that of an age instead of a quick death that Rhaegal had gained. It’s savouring the meal… Tyrion realised as his gaze turned to the second worst thing he had seen in his life.

The battlefield was in ruins. The relentless assault of the rebel host, the King in the North’s mauling of Aegon and the monster’s feast had broken the royal host. It wasn’t possible at this point to stop soldiers from running from the rear where Tyrion was now. There were just too many of them to stop that at this point. Tyrion could see them trying to run nearer the front as well but the wolves weren’t letting that happen as they cut them down with a viciousness that seemed to match the beast above them.

“At least my plan to deplete my least loyal banners worked.” Tyrion whispered to himself, knowing that those Lords and their soldiers he had mixed in at the front would all be dead or dying at this point.

His joke to himself felt hollow and empty. He could hear his own strained and almost teary voice. The chances of his survival were slim to none here. Retreating with the Queen would only doom him to a vicious end further along the line. Fleeing to Casterly Rock would not save him from that monster. And the Iron Bank would probably find him and send him back to the North if he fled to the East. Tyrion had no doubts that they would have backed this massacre. I’ve got by in life by finding out and knowing what people want and crave. How do I win with that when I know what the King in the North wants is all of us dead?

There was only one real answer in this moment for Tyrion.

“Dip Your banners and fly the white flag Lannister Men!!!” Tyrion shouted as loudly as possible from his horse, almost overwhelmed by the chants of the Northmen and the roars of the monster circling above with blood dripping from its evil grinning face.

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!!!!”

“THE NORTH REMEMBERS!!!!”

“FOR ARYA STARK!!!!”

Those words are more terrifying than father ever was. Tyrion thought as his soldiers looked at him, all of the men shouting and screaming at each other. He could hear the fear in their voices as Northern chants and pipes grew louder and closer alongside the howls of wolves.

“Shouldn’t we run My Lord?!!!!” One knight shouted back.

Another was an idiot. “Or follow the Queen and her Unsullied?!!!”

Tyrion yelled again. “NO, YOU FOOLS!!! WE FIGHT WITH THE QUEEN ANY LONGER AND WE DIE A WORSE DEATH BY THAT MONSTROSITY!!! WE RUN AND WE GET HUNTED DOWN BY WOLVES, GIANTS AND A DEMON WOLF DRESSED IN KING’S CLOTHING!!! WE SURRENDER AND PRAY TO THE OLD GODS FOR MERCY BECAUSE OURS HAVE ABANDONED US!!!”

Tyrion’s words had brought his men to silence mercifully. The truth can do that. And it had got through to them as he watched them all drop their swords and the lion of Lannister dropped to the ground. Replaced by the white flags carried by those that carried sigils to battle. Tyrion grimly watched them do the deed that marked House Lannister admitting defeat in this war. And they were not the only ones either as what was left of the army quickly did the same. Banners of the Reach from Hightower all the way to Tyrell and Tarly fell. What was left of the Company followed suit. And even Dorne and its now meagre numbers dipped its banners. All being replaced by white flags of surrender. The battle was over and the royal host had been defeated. Tyrion sighed sadly as he thought of the cold winds of the wall. He would be lucky to spend his days freezing at the wall. It was the most merciful thing that Tyrion could imagine he would get. And I pray for that.

Jorah

Jorah had ridden hard with the Unsullied behind him the moment he had seen where Drogon had fallen after watching its kin get feasted upon; only to be shot through the wings with a hail of arrows and a single giant arrow. The battle was irrelevant. The King’s battle with the King in the North didn’t matter. Only his Khaleesi. And now she’s safe for now. Jorah thought with relief as he went back to the battle to give her time to escape with the Unsullied, he’d left with her. He would rally as many men as possible. I’ve saved her for now. I will do this as well. Jorah had saved her. He had got to her and sent her off after they both witnessed Drogon’s final attempt to slay the behemoth in the sky; ending with the last of Daenerys’ children turning into a long feast for a cannibal.

Nothing but bones left sinking into the lake. A similar thing could be said about the royal host at this point as Jorah rode backwards towards what was left of the battle with a small number of Unsullied that wished to fight with him in defence of the Queen instead of joining their surviving unit. The battle had turned into a complete defeat. Jorah could see men running as quickly as possible from the back of the lines and from those that survived the smashing by the rebels. Those that were stuck at the front didn’t have that luxury as they got cut down by the armies of the North, Vale and Riverlands. What lines that could rally had surrendered. White flags were flying from Lannister to Tyrell amongst the gore and blood with tattered banners of the South fallen in the mud. The battle was clearly over. They’d lost.

There wasn’t going to be a chance to rally the remnants of the host.

But Jorah wasn’t finished as his horse thundered forward. He needed to give his Queen time. It was all Jorah could do now. They needed someone to delay the Northmen so she could escape. Jorah would give her that chance to flee as far away as possible. I’ve made my choices. I’ll fight whilst everyone else runs and cowers. Jorah could do that. Here I stand. Even if it is going to be against my family. Jorah realised quickly as he saw the banners of Mormont in his vision alongside that of Karstark and a house he did not recognise running towards them. Jorah dismounted alongside the small unsullied group to form up. Their spears and his sword firmly held upward as the Northmen approached at speed. The Karstark soldiers and men in bronze and leather armours started chucking axes directly at the Unsullied. Jorah ran forward and dodged the blood drenched axes around him. The Unsullied weren’t as prepared for the tactic though as Axes lodged into their chests and skulls. It would break their meagre lines.

“CHARGE FORWARD!!!” Jorah roared at the Unsullied, prompting them to join him in his attack as he started cutting through the banners before him as relentlessly and quickly as possible. It was the only way to fight his people. The longer you held, the more often their brute strength won out. Jorah felt like the only one of his meagre force killing the Northmen before him as the rest got cut down outside of their formation by steel that had waited a winter to kill them. Jorah was the only one standing to kill his people. What’s a few more to the thousands I’ve burnt. Jorah thought as his sword impaled another Northmen, his face consumed with rage.

But none had angrier faces than his cousins as he heard their hateful roars in unison.

“KINSLAYER!!!”

Their words had caused the Northmen before him to open a a path for them out of the gore after ending the last of the Unsullied. Jorah didn’t keep attacking his people. His attempt to give his Queen time to flee was done. Only inevitably fighting his family was left. Alsyane, Lyra, Jorelle and Lyanna. Jorah hadn’t seen the younger three since his exile but he knew who they were. All of them had the Mormont colouring. All of them were wearing Mormont colours with the exception of Lyanna who wore both Mormont and Stark. And All of them were wearing their mother’s rage and his father’s unrelenting determination.

“Fight like a Northman Kin slayer!!!” Lyra roared.

Jorah clenched his sword and walked forward. I’ve made my mistakes. Here I stand. Jorah repeated to himself as he raised his sword again.

His cousins growled in response before Lyra and Jorelle charged forward, maces raised.

Jorah watched the two make violent strikes towards him. He could feel the fury as Jorah dodged to the side to deflect Lyra’s mace and kicked Jorelle back with force to keep them off. His cousins were then joined by Alsyane and Lyanna, their maces taking over from their sisters. They looked at him savagely as they assaulted him with increasing ferocity.

“TRY AND KILL YOUR KIN IN A REAL FIGHT!!!” Lyanna bellowed as she struck at him.

“CAN’T KILL US NOW WHEN YOU HAVE NO DRAGONS TO BURN FOR YOU!!” Jorelle exploded as Jorah ducked to avoid her mace.

“TRAITOR!!” Alsyane shouted as she threw her mace into his sword.

I won’t kill them but I’ll delay. Something that was becoming increasingly challenging with each blow coming with more and more power behind them. Jorah kept deflecting and kicking them back as best as possible with every ounce of energy in his body. I can feel their hate. Jorah thought as his sword occasionally battered off Lyanna’s armour in the hope to slow them down, only to leave not even a scratch or dent. Jorah growled in frustration as another mace from Jorelle and Alsyane went to smash his left side. Valyrian Steel armour on Lyanna. His cousins growled as their maces kept relentlessly battering his sword.

And then Alsyane final broke his sword. Jorah could feel the vibrations from the hilt as the sword shattered before him, leaving only Alsyane’s vengeful before him. His cousins roared viciously at the sight of his broken sword. Their maces seemed to sing alongside their roars as they battered simultaneously into his right and left side. Jorah grunted in pain as he felt every hammering blow from his cousins until one of the spikes pierced through his armour and into his sides. Then again and again. Every time Jorah grunted more violently with blood spurting out of his mouth until Lyanna and Jorelle smashed their maces into both his knees. Jorah fell to his knees coughing up blood, eyes down at the blood and dirt until Lyra pulled his head up only for Alsyane to punch at his jaw.

More blood spat out of his jaw as Jorah tried to hold his body together. He could feel the blood leaking out of his sides as well. His battle was over. Here I stand. Jorah thought grimly as he tried to get up.

His cousins didn’t let him get up as Lyra pushed him down and Lyanna joined in holding him.

“Words!!!” Alsyane shouted at him as she positioned her mace to make the final strike. The Northmen looked stunned at her shout. Jorah knew why.

She’s willing to kill me and be a kin slayer. Jorah realised sadly. Father will beat me bloody for this if I let her do it.

“Get someone else to do it Lady Mormont. Whoever passes the sentence swings the sword but the North doesn’t need another Kin slayer for a Mormont!” Jorah said between coughs of blood.

Alsyane didn’t look bothered by it as she clenched her mace harder. Lyra was though as he felt her grip leave to pull her sister back and calm her down. Jorah could see the fight in his cousin’s eyes over it between bouts of blurred vision as the blood left him,

“Sigorn!!” Jorelle yelled as she replaced her sister in holding him down.

One of the men in bronze armour walked forward with his bloody sword already unsheathed. The man looked at him with anger as he took his place. It turned solemn in an instant. As every first man is taught.

“Any other words?” Sigorn asked quickly.

Jorah shook his head. Too many things to say. I’ll save them for Father when he’s done beating me bloody.

Sigorn nodded simply before raising his sword. I hope I served you well Khaleesi. Jorah thought to himself before his head fell into the blood-soaked ground alongside all the others that had fought, lost and died for their Queen.

And that is the battle of God's Eye!

Any questions, feel free tae ask as always.

Next chapter will be a lot quicker I promise. It is a lot easier now that the major battles are done. The next chapter will be Varys, Davos and Daenerys.

Daenerys' pov will conclude the battle completely.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 40: To End A Reign Of Dragons

Hope you all enjoy it! Feel Free tae comment as always!!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Davos

The Gates of King’s Landing had been burning since before the army of the Stormlands and the Manderly Fleet had arrived to take the capital for Queen Shireen. Since before the crow had come on their marching speaking the words of Victory at God’s Eye that told them they could take the city. The wildfire had prevented them from entering and a lack of siege engines for the walls meant few could get over the walls unless they used a grapple. Something that only would work for small numbers. It was only after a week that some of the fires were finally stopping and the camp was starting to muster and prepare to enter the city. Gods, if that harbour wasn’t a wreck from Blackwater and the Targaryen invasion we could have been done by now. The thought of Blackwater made Davos grimace as he took his seat beside Shireen for a meeting in the Queen’s War Tent.

“Are you okay Davos?” Shireen as calmly as she looked at him.

Davos smiled a bit. “I’m fine Your Grace. Just thoughts of my eldest sons with the Wildfire out there.”

Shireen placed a hand on his shoulder. “They’ll be no more of that substance ever again once we are done here.”

Davos could hear the conviction in her voice as she said it. There weren’t any doubts in his mind of it.

“It would have been nice if this had been a quick affair like at Storm’s End.” Davos replied light heartedly.

And it had been a quick affair in the grand scheme of things; having taken the castle within one night. The Golden Company had left a small reserve in Storm’s End but they proved ineffective against a surprise attack from the insides of the castle; especially a one that had been under siege for three weeks by the banners of the Stormlands under Edric Storm. I may be old but I still managed it. Davos and Devan had made multiple trips to smuggle the Queen and the Manderly forces into Storm’s End whilst the Company was distracted by the presence of an army at the walls. The Stormlands army only numbered Eight Thousand and was not a large force that could successfully take the castle without trickery. But they served a purpose. Edric had feigned an attempt at trying to take the castle by attacking the walls with catapults in the night for two weeks; keeping the enemy forces occupied at the walls instead of checking anywhere else on the night they decided to strike.

That final night had ended with the banners of House Targaryen and the Golden Company falling into the mud and for the original stag banners of House Baratheon to return to their rightful place. Davos had smiled at the sight of it as Shireen told Stannis and Davos of their ancestral seat whilst the banners of the Stormlands began to enter Storm’s End.

Shireen smiled. “Unfortunately, we can’t smuggle an entire army into the Red Keep. Thankfully that means my sons know not everything can be solved with illicit acts.”

Davos chuckled at her words as the Lords entered the tent; his son Devan being the first of them. Lord of Rainwood and Master of Ships. Never thought any of my sons would have anything like that. Davos thought proudly to himself as his son took his seat. Devan was shortly followed by Wylla Manderly, Wylis’ second daughter and the commander of the Manderly navy and Northmen present, the Storm Lords and Edric; the newly appointed Lord of Storm’s End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.

Shireen’s cousin truly did look like a Robert Baratheon in his prime come again barring the Florent ears he shared with Shireen; especially with the great Warhammer on his back and a wide smile on his face as he greeted his Queen formally with Shireen responding in turn. One could understand where Shireen’s worries had come from with her cousin and the Storm Lords potentially forcing him over her on the throne. That worried had quickly evaporated in the procession to declare fealty to Shireen and her sons. Edric and the two thousand strong sell sword company he had formed, bolstering the six thousand Stormlands army to eight thousand, had bent the knee immediately to Shireen as soon as he reached her in the courtyard. Davos knew that Edric hadn’t forgotten that he was his father’s son and was damn proud of that. Something which had been evident when they’d found him three years ago in the East wielding the Warhammer his father had gifted him. But Edric didn’t want to be a King; happy with Storm’s End where he was raised. The Storm Lords had followed suit after Edric; the Selmy family being the first and the Penrose family being the last. Shireen had simply reminded Lord Penrose’s knights of where the food and weapons that they had been given during winter which had prompted the man to bend the knee before he could speak in the procession.

“My Lords. What news of the wildfire plaguing our city’s gates?” Shireen asked calmly.

Lord Estermont was the first to reply. “The Flames are finally dying out Your Grace. According to the scouts that have managed to get close, most of the gates would be too damaged or still alight for the army to enter safely.”

“Only the Lion’s Gate will be in tact enough for the entire army to make its way through into the city.” Lord Selmy added.

The one gate the Lannisters will have probably put their money in maintaining when they were in power. Davos thought to himself as he held back a snort.

“But it would make our entrance a slower one and harder for spreading out to secure the city.” Edric pointed out.

Shireen nodded thoughtfully at their words. “Better a slower entrance than a fast one to prevent a panic. It would be better received by the city folk and would allow us to help bring order to the city alongside the knights of the bold.”

“And what of the Knights of the Bold? Has word come from Lord Dayne and his knight you had sent over the city walls to treat with them Your Grace?” Lord Selmy asked.

The Sword of the Morning and another dead ringer for Robert Baratheon had been a surprise for Davos when the two arrived alongside the one of the Late Beric Dondarrion’s cousins from Black haven. Davos had known from Shireen’s meetings with the King in the North in their planning that Lord Dayne had sent word of him and Dorne plotting to overthrow Princess Arianne in favour of Prince Manfrey but he hadn’t expected to meet with the Lord Dayne until after the war. Nor did Davos expect to meet another of Robert Baratheon’s bastards; albeit a one that did not announce himself as one despite the obvious appearance. Something he wanted kept quiet after they had spoken to the two of them in private with Edric. A canny lad. Damn shame he’s married and with a family in Dorne or I would have recommended him for the Queen’s Guard. Davos had noted. The two had both volunteered to enter by climbing the city walls and speak with the knights with Gendry being a member of them.

“And what if they start to attack us?” Lord Penrose asked.

Shireen spoke confidently in reponse. “News arrived an hour ago from one of the men Lord Dayne and Ser Gendry had with them. The knights are under the two’s command and are focusing their efforts in pushing the Unsullied back to the castle and keeping as much order as possible.”

“They’ll almost be at the castle doors by now since word arrived.” Lord Selmy stated.

Davos smiled. “I imagine they’ll be quite pleased to have us shore their numbers up in taking the keep and to finally bring the justice they’re after.”

Shireen smiled at his words turned to Devan and Wylla. “Lord Devan and Lady Wylla. Send word to your sailors to move further along the coast and begin unloading supplies for once we have taken the city.”

“Of course, your Grace. I’ll have the Storm Shatterer end the bulk of the Blockade and start unloading the supplies.” Devan replied.

“And I’ll keep the rest at the harbour to make sure nobody escapes from the Red Keep.” Lady Wylla added.

Shireen smiled at the two before turning to Edric. “Pick some men from your band of Sell Swords and have Lord Caron’s Men to help them in protecting the supplies. And pick your best to guard me at the head of the army.”

Davos felt nervous at those last words as the rest went off to prepare. He hadn’t wanted Shireen to be at the front nor had he wanted her to enter with the Northmen at Storm’s End. They had argued over it but in the end, Shireen had proven her Father’s daughter in stubbornness as she clenched her jaw and firmly declared she would be at the front to prove herself as unafraid of any dangers. Davos had finally relented to it but the nerves hadn’t. I’ll go get the best with Edric. I won’t have her harmed. Davos thought as he left the tent and followed the Lord of Storm’s End.

Varys

The Game had become crowded over the years with too many pieces on the board. Varys had been quick to realise that upon Aegon’s arrival in the Stormlands. It hadn’t just been Petyr Baelish to contend with and a Lannister force that he’d managed to weaken thanks to his removal of Kevan Lannister and Cersei’s decision to blow up the Sept of Baelor; resulting in Margery Tyrell’s death and Tommen’s suicide. The Game had been joined by fanatical loyalists of Daenerys Targaryen as the sole ruler of the realm. Dragons that had grown too large to be removed quickly from the game. The inevitable calls of the Iron Bank for money. A Bastard Wolf that had made the need for Dragons all the more necessary and the return of the Others. Varys wasn’t sure which player or faction had been the worst in making chaos for the realm and the King that he had forged over the years.

A part of him that despised magic believed it was due to the return of the dragons and others. Neither force had done his plans for Aegon well in the long term. The Dragons had made Daenerys a force to be reckoned with an army behind her as opposed to a woman that could have been used to shore up Aegon’s legitimacy if need be and then be replaced with Arianne Martell once necessary. The Others had brought the delusions of prophecy and grandeur into the Crown; ultimately burning any bridges for a peaceful deal with the North despite the crown’s “view” that. The Northmen’s insistence that the South and Crown in their yearly letters reminding the South of what had happened and word from those who were there had almost confirmed that for Varys.

But it is the players that have been the most detrimental. Varys thought with a sigh as he made his way to one of the palace balconies over the city. They were always the most dangerous; especially when there were more players in the game. Monsters, magic and prophecies only enhanced their power and ability to be a problem. The moves that were being made had come from man not magic. House Yronwood and Dayne had lacked magic and dragons but through their plotting they had managed to take Dorne and place Manfrey Martell as the Prince of Dorne; even if it was most likely against his will. It wasn’t the Others that had beat Aegon so bloody he looked more like Maelys the Monstrous than Rhaegar come again. It wasn’t magic either that had made the Knights of the Bold a pain on the streets below them as Varys joined what was left of the royal advisors on the balcony overlooking the city. He could see a mix of advisors from both factions. On the Queen’s side were Missandei, Willas Tyrell and few freed men that had risen in her court. On the king’s side; Varys seeing Tyene Sand, a commander from the Golden Company and Lord Hightower; a relative of Dickon Tarly through marriage and one of Randyll’s supporters in the Reach. A relative of Willas too. They have blood and influence regardless of which faction in the Reach is in charge. Aegon’s eldest bastards; Rhaegar and Elia were also present. The other two; Jaehaerys and Rhaenys would be in their rooms. Too young to understand and watch.

Daenerys’ faction won’t last much longer once my poisoners in the war camp act after the battle is won. Varys thought confidently. It can only be victory. I’m too old to start this again.

“I see the small contingent of Unsullied and Freed Men have returned to the keep.” Varys noted as he looked down at the Unsullied and Freed Men hurriedly making their way through the gates and closing them.

Missandei replied curtly.

“I’m afraid that the Knights of the Bold have pushed the Queen’s forces back. They’ve been unable to stop the riots.”

Varys nodded. The Knights had been a problem for some time; being one of the main sources for unrest in the city during winter despite the prospects of death by a dragon. Daenerys had burnt some and Aegon executed others. Neither had put fear into them. He had fed them rumours once that it was solely Daenerys’ forces that had killed Ser Barristan in hopes of keeping the blame from Aegon but that hadn’t changed their minds that it was both that had committed the crime of murdering one of the few true knights and had brought Dothraki into their city.

“Did you find out who set off the wildfire caches at the gates Lord Varys?” Willas Tyrell asked.

Varys shook his head. “My little birds only speak of an accident from aged and volatile wildfire.”

It is rare where I get to be honest with these Lords and advisors. Varys noted to himself over the spark that had caused these riots. The wildfire had simply gone off by accident thanks to the wildfire caches at the gates being too dangerous to move unlike that of those under the Red Keep. It had turned all of the city gates to flame and blocked any entrance or exit until the fires ended without swimming out of the city or falling off the walls. The knights and city folk blamed the crown and decided to riot against the guards with the King and Queen not present.

And they’d become spurned on by the arrival of a small army flying the banners of the crowned stag and a navy blockading the harbour with the banners of Manderly. The former had even surprised Varys. There are no Baratheon heirs that I am aware to yet live and the Stormlands hasn’t got the power to hold the city against the rest of the realm. Perhaps it is Robert’s Baratheon’s bastard Edric if he yet lives or another that has been put in place by the King in the North. Varys mused.

“Has the Stag’s army moved from their position outside the walls?” Varys asked.

The old company commander answered gruffly. “They’ve moved through the Lion’s Gate my Lord. The Wildfire finally stopped there and they’ll be behind the knights soon. We’ll be under siege soon once they make their way through the city.”

“Our defences will hold until King Aegon returns to relive the keep and resume order in the city.” Tyene answered confidently.

“And the Kingdoms will finally be able to heal under Father.” Rhaegar finished.

Daenerys’ faction hid their scowls well. Not enough for Varys to not see though.

Varys smiled faintly. It would heal once his plans were completed. Once the armies have defeated the rebelling Kingdoms and Daenerys poisoned. Once my little birds do their work to her remaining advisors when word comes.

“Is it wise to potentially find an escape route from the keep should they make it through to protect Aegon’s children and ourselves?” Lord Hightower asked as he looked far down towards the knights that were hammering at the castle gates.

Willas was quick to agree. “Perhaps it would be wise to search for an escape passage if need be.”

Varys was quick to shake his head. Although he knew all the passages out of the keep and city; none of them would bring them to safety at this point. Not without losing the castle which would make it all the harder for Aegon. Only the two youngest potentially could and at the time being; there wasn’t anywhere safer in the realm. Unfortunately, it is prudent none of them leaves.

And the Red keep was never safe.

“The gates are opening!” Tyene yelled at them as she looked over from her position.

An Unsullied quickly barged in; shouting similar to them about the servants opening the gates as soon as the bulk of them had moved to the walls.

Varys could hear the panic of the Lords as they all tried to make hasty plans; Tyene running off with the Unsullied to make a defence with the Unsullied and Freed Men. Varys didn’t hesitate to disappear from the Lords and make his way to the nearest passage in the vicinity.

It will be too noticeable to take Rhaegar and Elia with me. The Lords will all follow suit and make it all the harder for me. I must get the youngest to preserve the succession should the knights want more than hostages when Aegon returns. Varys thought to himself worriedly as he made his way through the passages. Unaware of the crows following him.

Davos

Entering through the ashen Lion’s Gate was a tense moment as Davos rode beside Shireen at the front with Edric slightly behind them. Davos could still feel the heat from where the fires had burnt. I’m glad Stannis and Davos are both back at Storm’s End until it is safe for them. Davos thought as he took a glance at Shireen and then the streets before him where Knights of the Bold were there to greet them. That didn’t comfort Davos; knowing these streets could be dangerous regardless of allies and armies. I wish she was in Storm’s End too.

But a surrogate Father’s worries couldn’t stop a Queen. He could see that now as she issued commands to the army behind her as they started to split off in the city to help secure it.

“Any soldier caught attacking the City Folk or Raping will be sent to the Wall or Executed! Any City Folk Caught committing those Acts are to be apprehended and will take the same punishments!”

Her voice carried across the army with a cold fury behind it. Her sweet face looked intimidating and commanding in that moment. Her Greyscale cheek seeming burst from behind her black hair as she emphasised her commands. Shireen looked like the Storm Queen that had weathered all the Storms in that moment as her forces obeyed and they rode forward. Pride and worry at the same time. That’s what Marya always said about their children. Davos remembered as he smiled at Shireen as she placed her long black hair back over the greyscale cheek. Something she didn’t want the Small Folk to see and panic over.

“You shout like your father you know.” Davos said as they led the procession. Soldier fanning out to clear the streets and help the city folk as their forces gradually slowed the rioting down with the help of the Bold.

Shireen smiled a bit like Rickon Stark and Lyanna Mormont in that moment. “Seeking justice and the law upheld needs conviction behind the words. If it brings me to raise my voice every now and then. So be it.”

“As long as you don’t raise it too often at me Your Grace.” Davos responded.

Shireen smiled brightly as they made their way through the city; sending some of her forces ahead to inform them they were coming to the Keep. There were few skirmishes with the city folk thanks to the presence of the Bold as they gradually made their way towards the Red keep. What fights had occurred were coming from those that were enjoying the chaos that the moment had brought. The cities still smelled of blood and shit though from the fights the bold had against the Unsullied and Freed Men. Something that had become more apparent as they got closer and closer to the Red Keep with the presence of their bodies and that of the knights.

He could hear the chants coming too.

“Justice for Ser Barristan!!!”

“Justice for Ser BARRISTAN!!!”

“Justice for SER BARRISTAN!!!”

The chants were strong as they got closer.

And then a group of knights led by Lord Dayne ran down the streets.

“Your Grace!!! The Palace Doors have been opened by the servants!! Ser Gendry is leading the men to take hold of the keep and apprehend the advisors of the Targaryens!!”

Shireen nodded as she quickly started to give orders.

“The Keep is open! Stay your blades from the servants upon your entry and take any Unsullied and Freed Men to the Sword that do not surrender!”

Edric started barking orders for Shireen to the men as they made their way towards the palace. Davos sighed in relief.

“The city seems to be yours Your Grace.”

“And now the realm has the first Crabber’s son for a hand.” Shireen said dryly as she repeated her father’s words.

Davos smiled. All hail Queen Shireen of the House Baratheon. First of her Name.

Daenerys

The sound of crows shrieking was above them. The thundering of Hooves was behind them alongside the wolves. It had been not even an hour after watching her children die when the Northmen were behind them with their animals. Every savage noise was making Daenerys scream louder and louder as she forced Grey Worm and what was left of her Unsullied forward. The crows were shrieking above her.

“Arya!”

“Arya!”

“Arya!”

Daenerys screamed in frustration at the words.

I can’t have them catch us. I won’t have them win when they deserve to burn. Daenerys repeated to herself again as she rode forward. The Pain of her dead children and Jorah drove her onwards too in order to get as far away from the God’s eye that was barely behind her. I’ll avenge them with fire and blood. She needed to get to King’s Landing where only her Freed Men and other Unsullied were stationed. Where the remaining wild fire lay under the gates of the city. I’ll set it off when they come for the city. I’ll burn their armies to the ground and release new dragons from the ashes. I’ll show the monster that I am the true dragon and it will bend or die.

“I’ll turn them into ashes.” Daenerys muttered under her breath as the thundering of the enemy’s horses drew closer and closer.

And the howling wolves finally smashed into the Unsullied riders behind them. Daenerys heard their pained screams as the Unsullied and their horses got ripped into pieces by the Wolves. The Northmen not far behind.

“PROTECT THE QUEEN!!!” Grey worm yelled as he turned his horse to rally his forces.

Daenerys kept riding on; looking back only to see Grey Worm and his forces get quickly decimated by the Northmen and their wolves. Grey worm didn’t have the time to get them on the ground to make a phalanx formation. Instead he died by a Blonde woman’s spear.

“I’ll burn them all!!” Daenerys shouted to herself; gripping the reins tighter and feeling the crossbow that the Unsullied had found for her when gathering horses at the camp.

“Faster!!” Daenerys yelled to her horse. Kicking it with her feet to go faster.

Another deafening howl came from the pack of wolves behind her. Louder and more fearsome as three giant wolves finished ripping apart another Unsullied. Blood dripping from their mouths as Daenerys looked back again. Her horse spooked and bucked at the sounds of howls and wails. Stopping dead in its tracks and throwing her off the saddle. She flew into a long bush with a thud. Daenerys got herself up frantically; grabbing for the Crossbow on her back as she tried to hide in the foliage.

The Northmen had got off their horses to deal with what was left of her forces. And the bastard did too. He looked as bloody, gory and savage as he had at the wall when he’d strangled and humiliated in front of her forces. His face looked furious as he snarled angrily. Daenerys took aim from her position with the Crossbow. I’ll kill you and burn your bones.

One of the wolves spat on her prayers as the large grey Direwolf with yellow eyes she had seen at the wall grabbed her by the ankle. Dragging her out of the foliage and then jumping on her as Daenerys screamed from the bite. The Crossbow flew out of her hands as the Direwolf towered over her.

Daenerys screamed angrily as her hand tried to reach for a dagger that she always kept with her against spies. “I’ll kill you!!! I’ll burn you!!!”

Daenerys screamed as a thin bloody blade jammed through her reaching hand and into the ground. Looking up; Daenerys saw the snarling bastard. His face lit with an anger not even that monster in the skies possessed as he looked at the knife that she tried to grab to slaughter the giant wolf bitch that was over her.

“I’ll burn you for this!!!!!” Daenerys yelled again.

I am the dragon. I will not show fear to a mongrel wolf.

The bastard just snarled louder alongside that wolf bitch as he moved closer to her head.

“I AM YOUR QUEEN!!!” Daenerys shouted.

His snarling face and savage grey eyes flashing red was the last thing Daenerys saw before he kicked her unconscious with his greaves.

And wae that the city has been taken and the battle officially ended. I hope everyone enjoyed it and feel free tae ask any questions. The next chapter will be POVS fae Ashara, Tyrion and Daenerys. We are nearing the end btw. There are only three chapters left after this one.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 41: The Pack Triumphant

Hope you all enjoy!! Feel Free tae comment as always!!!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Ashara

The Halls of Winterfell were always a comfortable warm. It was something that Ashara had grown to love immensely during the Winter when she been allowed to visit. Though never to live here. Ashara thought sadly as she made her way through the halls. Ashara had spent a year in Castle Cerwyn half a day away from the Great Keep before her son had allowed her to visit Winterfell. It was the day Rickard had been born. Her first Grandson. The eldest child of Jon and Val looked no different to how Jon had been when she had him as a babe with grey eyes and dark brown hair. It had brought back tearful memories but she had been glad to hold her grandson in her arms and not let go this time. Jon had allowed her to visit Rickard and then all of her grandchildren from that point onward. Rickard, Brandon, Lyarra, Eddard and Robb. She’d got to know them all and be a grandmother to them in some form like Old Nan was to them.

Her son hadn’t forgiven her though; only ever speaking a few curt words to Ashara whenever the two were in the same room with his children. It had hurt in the early years but Ashara had grown to accept that her son was not like to speak more than a few words and barely look at Ashara without a snarl there. Ashara had understood it too. She’d been barely able to look at him when he was born. She’d been near enough mad with grief then. Though his grief isn’t mad. It is merely vengeful. Ashara thought as she got closer to her destination. Still hearing the sounds of celebration in the Great Hall before the Northmen marched to the Wall where Daenerys and Aegon were to be executed. Where this war began. It was affair where all of the North and most of the South would come to see the King in the North end the Targaryen dynasty once and for all.

Where the son I birthed will kill the son I raised. Ashara thought mournfully as she finally made it to the end of the hall and to where the entrance to the dungeons lay. She’d only seen him once upon his arrival to Winterfell before being dragged to the dungeon with Daenerys ranting and raving beside him. He had looked like a dead man walking by his appearance with a nose and ears missing. Teeth gone and a litany of scars on his face. She could see where the stories had come from of the King in the North that had made him ugly. And now I see him again. Ashara thought as she waited for the guards to change their position; clutching the poison she had concocted in her bag. Aegon had betrayed her and had brought pain to all of the North and Jon but she had raised him and didn’t want to see him suffer a painful death. I still care about him to let him die peacefully in his sleep. He’s suffered enough for his crimes and I need t be the one to fix my mistake. Ashara thought as she waited behind her pillar for the guards to change so she could be quick.

That all changed in an instant as she heard the sound of paws on the stones. Looking out from her pillar, Ashara could see the hulking form of Shaggy dog and beside him Winter with white fur and red eyes like Jon’s wolf. Rickard’s Direwolf. Their masters were slightly behind them alongside Osha and Old Nan. Ashara could see Rickon and Osha holding Old Nan with a hand each as they escorted her along the other hall with Rickard holding a torch in the front. The halls to the dungeons were always dimly lit and further below the keep and required a torch to get clearer sight. Ashara held her breath as she heard Old Nan bickering with Osha and Rickon; trying to release from Rickon and Osha’s grip.

“I’ve been walking the halls to these dungeons long before either of you were born. I can walk myself and not be held by the two of you like I’m a frail babe!”

Ashara could hear Rickard’s chuckle and Rickon’s sigh as Osha snapped back.

“Woman these halls are dim for a nearly blind woman and those stairs before would have killed you if we weren’t holding you.”

“Bah! I’ll laugh when it is you that falls down the stairs to these dungeons Osha. You with that white hair of yours and limp and you’re even not as old as me!” Old Nan spat back as they got closer to the guarded door.

Ashara could hear Osha’s scowl; letting her hand off the woman whilst Rickon intervened. “The dungeon stairs were icy Nan when we dragged the prisoners in. I won’t have you fall.”

“I’m no babe pup. I can walk on my own and I bet I can probably still clip your head when you were smaller pup.”

The only woman in the North that can call the second hungry wolf a pup. And the only one that can call my son and King in the North a pup as well.

Rickard chuckled. “You might as well let her go Uncle Rickon until you get her through the dungeon doors. We’ll be here all night otherwise.”

Rickon grunted as he let go. Old Nan laughed happily as they made their way more quickly towards the dungeon doors. Ashara saw Rickard speak with the guards and hold the door as Rickon escorted Old Nan down the stairs. Old Nan reluctantly allowing them to hold her again in the darkness as Shaggy led the way with Osha now holding Rickard’s torch. Her Grandson had stayed outside with Winter as the Direwolf had started sniffing her scent. Ashara watched Rickard’s eyes whiten for a moment as he warged into the Great big Direwolf before speaking in her direction solemnly.

“Grandmother.”

Ashara walked from her pillar. Winter greeted her as he sniffed at her inquisitively before giving a low growl at the poison in her bag. Rickard warged again briefly before coming over to her. His face solemn.

“Rickard…” Ashara said quietly.

Her grandson cut her off as he spoke to her. “I understand why you want to poison him Grandmother. But you won’t. He deserves to die under the Heart Tree.”

Ashara could hear the growl in his voice that he had inherited from his father; adding to the strong Northern accent. Ever-present regardless of whether he was angry or simply conversing normally. Though Ashara noticed he was speaking quietly so the guards wouldn’t hear.

“He’s suffered enough Rickard.” Ashara replied.

“Not for what he did to the North Grandmother. And not for what he did to the pack. To do this would rob the North and Father of what is deserved for someone who harms the blood of the first men.” Rickard replied firmly.

“And it should be me that does it. I was the one that raised him. I should be the one that fixes my mistake.” Ashara said slightly tearfully. The longer I talk about this the more it all comes back and hurts from Elia’s death and everything that came after.

Rickard softened a bit as he gently took put his hand to her arm. “That I understand too Grandmother. But it wasn’t you that killed Arya Stark. If Father ever believed that he would have been a kin slayer a long time ago.”

“But he doesn’t forgive me for raising the one that took her from him.” Ashara almost sobbed as all the pain started to flood through her.

Rickard sighed. “The North Remembers Grandmother. We don’t forget. Every time Father sees you; he remembers Aegon and what the dragons did. It is pain not judgement he feels when around you.”

Ashara looked at her grandson tearfully. His face still solemn. “How would you know that?”

“I asked him after returning from the Iron Islands with Uncle Rickon. I felt old enough to understand why he acts the way he does with you properly after seeing what death does to people’s families in war. It is different to just killing bandits and squids raiding.” Rickard replied as he turned her around and escorted her back up the hall. Winter nuzzling her hand.

“I wouldn’t try this again grandmother. You’re pack to me and my siblings but if you do this again Father won’t forgive you for it and I won’t be able to either.” Rickard finished as he escorted her to her chambers.

Ashara nodded at him as she tried to dry her tears. “I know Rickard.”

Ashara went to get the poison out of her bag to give to him but Rickard shook his head. “It is your choice Grandmother. Just know to do it is to hurt the pack.”

Ashara put the poison in her bag as her grandson gave a brief hug before walking away. Leaving her alone outside of her chambers; clutching the bag as she felt the energy drain her. The energy I built up to do this. Ashara thought as she made her way onto her bed. She wasn’t likely to succeed again in getting as far as the dungeons. Her blood wouldn’t allow it. They wanted Aegon offered to the Old Gods and a premature death by poison would be a spit in their face. She doubted Elia would forgive her for letting her son die like that. Nor would she be able to forgive herself for not ending him after all that he had done to her and Ashara’s blood. The blood she had abandoned and then inadvertently unleashed upon to get her vengeance for Elia. It was him as much as Daenerys. Loathe as I had been to admit it once. Ashara thought as she continued to clutch the bag on her bed as she willed herself to sleep; wondering if she would be able to try again.

I can’t. Ashara had realised come morning as she disposed of the poison. Aegon was for Jon to kill. To be feasted upon by a pack of wolves.

Daenerys

The Dungeons of Winterfell were cold. A dragon didn’t belong in the cold and Daenerys had screamed it every time guards came into the dungeons to feed their prisoners. Her treatment had been a disgrace. Ever since Daenerys’ capture she had been treated unlike the Queen that she was. All the way from God’s Eye to king’s Landing she had been walking on her feet with the Northern army around her and the monster that feasted on her children flying above until it went East. Her Hands tied to a horse as she was dragged along with her even uglier husband. Now missing his nose and ears. And me half my teeth from the bastard’s greaves when he kicked me into the darkness. Daenerys thought bitterly as she sat awake in her cell. The rest asleep and not doing anything to save their Queen and wrong the injustices done to her. Pathetic.

Being dragged to King’s Landing wasn’t the only injustice done to her. That shambles of a trial with every usurper crawling out from their lairs to sully her reign and declare her as a tyrant. All led by the bastard of Winterfell and a Baratheon Usurper that dared place herself on Daenerys’s Throne. One calling himself the King in the North and the other the Queen of everything south of the neck. All of her most loyal advisors and soldiers that had been in the capital were executed. Daenerys had screamed angrily promising she would burn them all after witnessing Missandei’s death. Her subjects that had betrayed her had just looked at Daenerys with contempt. I’ll burn them all for it.

Once she had been sentenced to die by all the usurpers; they’d tied her to arms again to a horse and made her walk all the way to Winterfell. Her feet had bled by the time she’d reached God’s Eye where Daenerys bore witness to the massacre that had taken place. Many of the corpses of her army were still there with men still looting them for plunder before burning them and burying their bodies with tattered Targaryen banners thrown into the pyres and graves. Fifty-Five thousand men of her Eighty Thousand Army had perished to the usurpers. And Ten Thousand of them had been forced to take the black as a blood price, leaving only Fifteen thousand as free men while the rest served an institution no longer needed because she had saved them all. Ten Thousand Men dragged along with me and none of them have organised an escape. Pathetic.

Returning to the God’s Eye had not been the worst ordeal though. It was seeing them pull up all of her children’s bones. That they stole from me. The usurping armies carried them alongside her and Aegon from the God’s Eye all the way to Winterfell. Inverted Targaryen banners hanging from Rhaegal and Drogon’s eye sockets that made the Northern peasants cheer once the procession had entered the North. Daenerys had screamed and yelled out at them for it as they cheered her children’s death and spat at Daenerys and her ugly husband. All the more every time they shouted The North Remembers.

“I’ll burn them all.” Daenerys muttered to herself as she felt another cold chill. The words would keep her warm.

Her words were answered with a chuckle and words of a woman from the distance. “You’ll be burning no one else ever again Dragon. My Pack has made sure of that when they put your dragons into the ground.”

Daenerys scowled at the old woman’s voice. And then again as she saw an old, frail woman approach her cell with a white-haired woman and the usurper’s cousin holding her. The monstrous black wolf with yellow eyes snarling at her. Its master was snarling angrily too. Usurper. She’d met Rickon Stark and every other Northern Lord that had guarded her at some point on the march to Winterfell. Daenerys had thought to trick the Prince of Winter into betraying his cousin so he could regain his rightful titles of Winterfell. He’d almost strangled her when he called the bastard that he calls a King his cousin. It had taken his wolf and wife to get him off her. He clearly hadn’t forgotten as he snarled at her. The Old woman looked at her with contempt before turning to the usurper and woman.

“Leave us and make sure none of the other prisoners have done anything stupid. I want to speak to this one alone.”

The Usurper was still snarling at her with blue-grey eyes. “I don’t want you left alone with her Nan.”

Nan? The Starks’ Grandmother lives? Impossible.

The old woman chuckled. “Leave Shaggy then if you wish to have me safe Rickon. Though I doubt I’ll need him for this dragon. They aren’t powerful once they’ve had their fire snuffed out.”

The usurper and white-haired woman looked reluctant but conceded. The usurper giving a final snarl before walking down the dungeon halls to inspect them with the white-haired woman. That left Daenerys with a dimly lit torch that was always on in the dungeon; a snarling wolf as big as a horse and an old woman with a toothless smile.

“I wasn’t aware the Starks needed an old nursemaid to look after them.” Daenerys said coldly.

The Old woman spat in her face. “And I wasn’t aware that I’d give you permission to speak.”

“I am a dragon and the Queen. I will speak when I see fit.” Daenerys responded passionately.

The Old woman laughed gleefully at that before spitting in her face through the bars again. “And yet it is me that is spitting in the face of the bitch that took and burnt of my pups from the pack.”

She must be Arya Starks mother. Maybe Catelyn Stark lived after all and wasn’t killed at the Twins. But why would he call her nan?

“A lie told by usurpers who want to deny that I saved the realm.”

The Old woman chortled toothlessly before opening the cell door with the key slowly. The wolf entered with a loud snarl as the woman followed.

Daenerys did not flinch at the snarling beast with bared teeth. She stared right in its eyes with defiance.

“I am the dragon.”

The Old woman slapped her.

“I wanted do that and worse to Your Father for what he did to my pups. Burning one by wildfire and one by hanging as he watched his father burn. I wanted to sink my canines when I had them into your brother for what he did to my pup Lyanna.”

Daenerys was furious at the old woman that seemed to call every Stark usurper a pup. “How dare you slap the Queen?”

The Old woman slapped her again with a toothless smile on her face. The wolf snarling beside her. It was an evil thing.

“I’ll settle for what my pups have done to you and your husband in recompense. And for what they will do to you at the Wall.”

Daenerys smiled with blood dripping from her mouth. “Maybe you’ll die before you see it.”

The Old woman laughed again. It seemed too powerful for a frail old Stark woman.

“I expected that years ago when you burnt my pup at the wall and broke the King in the North and Prince of Winter’s hearts. I thought they had fulfilled the pact regardless of the tragedy and I would have died before seeing you gutted.”

What Pact? This woman is mad.

‘But it seems your death will be what fulfils the pact that I have waited so long to see again. I thank the Old Gods for that. I can die after I see you and your husband bloody Ice and sing a song for the North with your screams.”

Daenerys looked at her angrily as the Old woman started to walk back out of the cell. Closing it with a laugh as the wolf stood by her side.

“You Starks are all the same. It must be in your blood to be a usurper.” Daenerys replied.

The Old woman spat at her one more time and smiled. “I see you are smart enough to know I am a Stark. I’ve mothered every one of them except the builder himself who gave me the name.”

The woman’s mad.

She leaned into the bars and smiled a darker smile. ‘Maybe you should use that intelligence to feel fear for what comes to you. It might make you more prepared for what my wolves will do to you.”

“LIAR AND USURPER!!!” Daenerys shouted.

“I’LL BURN YOU IN FRONT OF YOUR CHILDREN HAG!!!”

The old woman chuckled as the usurper and whitehaired woman joined her and guided her out softly by the hands. The wolf howling with the woman’s laughs.

Daenerys screamed angrily the entire night.

Tyrion

The Wall was fucking cold. Even inside. Tyrion thought bitterly as he sat in a locked room waiting for the King in the North.

It was Colder than Tyrion remembered when he had pissed off it all those decades ago. Maybe it was because he was old now or the fact that it was only the beginning of Spring. Winter never seems to really leave quickly in the North despite being Spring. Tyrion had realised it was neither. It was the fact that he would be spending the remainder of his years on the largest piece of ice on the planet where there were no whores and no game of thrones to be played. Still better than death. Tyrion mused as he waited in his locked room. He had declared it immediately upon surrendering to the Northmen once they had seen the white flags. And he had done it again in front of the Queen Shireen in that trial at King’s Landing; declaring himself guilty beforehand to all of his crimes for being a part of the Targaryen regime and bringing Dothraki to the realm.

The new Greyscale Queen was thankfully a one that stuck to the laws of men and allowed it. Albeit with all his remaining male relatives bearing the Lannister name sent to the wall and all their titles lost in the Westerlands. House Marbrand had replaced them as Warden of the West and risen to Lord of Paramount the Westerlands. But not Lord of the Rock. Every stone of Casterly Rock and whatever wealth left was to be sent to the Iron Bank. The Lannister Legacy wiped from existence. No Gold and No Rock ever again. Tyrion had been further embittered by that final nail in the coffin for the Lannister legacy and his own but he was still lucky. Lucky enough to witness the rest of the trial and hear as much rumours on how this part of the Game ended. For me at least.

Few had been given mercy with only minor courtiers and Lords being granted pardons and mercy; albeit with a permanent removal from the Court with the exception to petition if they were in the Crownlands. But for the more major players the trial went much more harshly. Daenerys and Aegon were to be executed soon at the wall with most of the realm in attendance for it and for all the new recruits to the watch to see before taking their oaths. Having had every Northern Lord list off their dead from what they call the burning at the wall in the trial damned them. Every Southerner from Lords to City Folk that had been harmed by the Dothraki damned them. And every Knight of the Bold for Barristan’s death damned them. Execution couldn’t be avoided for them. And something that wasn’t to be debated. They were the King in the North’s prisoners and he would be the one to execute them for what they’d done to both the North and the South. How the knights of the bold and city folk had been overjoyed to hear that. That the monarchs that had brought savages into their city and killed their Ser Barristan were to die by something more brutal than any Dothraki. Tyrion had thought bitterly at the time. The city folk were always changing their minds in his eyes. They had called him a hero and then a King Slayer within the blink of an eye.

Most of the advisors and members of the Small Council had also been executed due to fierce loyalty from what was left of Daenerys’s factions and the Dornish on Aegon’s side. The surviving Unsullied and Freed Men, the remaining Sand Snakes and members of the Golden Company. And Missandei. Loyal to the end for their respective sides. Others had been deemed too dangerous to let live and that had meant Varys. His friend and rival from Aegon’s faction had been the first executed in front of the people with nowhere to hide himself and crawl away. A spider with no legs and now no head. The only death that had been sad for me. He treated me as a player of the game and not a stunted dwarf.

Few had been lucky beyond Tyrion out of the major Lords. Princess Arianne Martell was to be made a hostage of House Yronwood in Dorne to keep any in line that disagreed with the new reign of Manfrey Martell as Prince of Dorne and Shireen is Queen of the Six. Including Manfrey Martell if the rumours are right that he was not directly involved in the coup. Her bastard sons were to take the black as well. And her daughters married off to minor houses in the Vale and Riverlands. So minor that they were just above a hedge knight. Willas Tyrell was also to take the black alongside his nephews and any other relative to end the Tyrell line at the Wall with Garlan dying at the battle of God’s Eye. That was another major house that had been made extinct within an instant as they lost any claims to the Reach and Highgarden. The latter’s wealth being immediately transferred to the Crown to finally repay the Iron Bank’s loans and help to rebuild the capital.

And replaced with Dickon Tarly as both Warden of the South and Lord Paramount of the Reach. Tyrion had been surprised at how that had turned out. It had made sense in many ways to have them in control of the Reach. They were better liked than the Tyrells and House Tarly had a claim through Randyll’s marriage to Melissa Florent; making them an heir to the Reach through a male bastard line of Gardner instead of the female one the Tyrells had. Especially so with House Florent been made extinct either at the Wall or with Stannis Baratheon and both the Queen and Robert’s bastard Edric having Florent Mothers. It made a perfect fit for binding the reach together with the Crown. But the Lord of Horn Hill after Randyll’s death at God’s Eye had been willing to take execution. More out of loyalty than his father than anyone else. It had taken the Lord’s elder brother; long sent to the Wall and now an advisor of the King in the North, to talk him out of it in the Black Cells. Tyrion had overhead the conversation from his cell of how Samwell Tarly had begged his younger brother to think of their mother; Dickon’s children and how House Tarly would weaken under a boy Lord. It had taken that and words about their Father over what had led Sam to go to the Wall for the Tarly to see sense and take the curse of ruling the Reach both in times of peace and war. Albeit with control over his children’s betrothals being managed by the Queen to cement alliances and further heal the realm.

“I hope the realm suffers under her reign.” Tyrion muttered under his breath.

It was answered with a deep Northern accent with a growl attached to it as the door opened. “The Realm will never suffer as much as it had with all of you removed from it.”

Tyrion turned his gaze to the King in the North. He had seen the Bastard of Winterfell multiple times since the battle from afar; whether it be on the march to King’s Landing and then back up to the Wall or the trial in the courtroom. But Tyrion still couldn’t get over the difference between the solemn, brooding bastard that he had met at the Wall and the wolf that was before him now. A face that makes me both fearful and bitter for all him and his savages have taken. The Stark look and that of the North was strong in him; even more so with the wisps of white in his beard and hair alongside faded scars that made him look more like he was at one with the snow and ice. The eyes and expression were what had changed. The grey eyes had become harder and wilder; flashing red every time his rage seemed to peak in the presence of the dragons. The expression always seemed to have a snarl in it. Even in a smile with teeth slightly bared. And his voice with a low growl ever present. It was the appearance and sounding of the wolf that had become Tyrion’s view on what a demon looked like. The demon that had joined forces the monster known as Cannibal. The Dragon that no Targaryen ever tamed.

Tyrion smiled bitterly at the King in the North. I can only hurt him with my words before I’m left to freeze on the Wall until death. “You never know bastard. The Game is good at surprising us like that. It surprised me that a child raised by Ned Stark could be like you and lay the South to ruin. Let alone three of them.”

The bastard of Winterfell responded with a viciously savage smile. “Me and my kin were made by those that dared harm the pack and the North. You and your kin started that and demanded what a Stark of the North needed to be alongside the Others and everyone else that harmed the North.”

“And what of the monsters you created from this? The ones that will plague your heirs one day or yourself when you are old and weak? The ones that you had taken loved ones from in death or by the wall? The ones that believe that Daenerys Targaryen did save the realm from the Others and that it was the King in the North that wanted her dead because she wanted his crown in return? The ones that think it was a lie that Arya Stark had died by dragons?”

Tyrion asked quickly so he wouldn’t be stopped if the bastard of Winterfell decided to strangle him for it. Let him feel hurt by the words and worries.

The smile turned cold like ice. The ever-present growl seemed to grow louder. Tyrion felt a chill down his spine as he waited for an answer. Growls echoing in the room.

“I’ve prepared for that.”

‘You will see before you and all of the new recruits take the black once the Dragon Queen and her husband are dead tomorrow.’

Tyrion felt fear at the words and the chill behind them.

“Is that why we’re speaking then? Are you here to tell me not to try anything whilst I am at the Wall and assure that nobody threatens you from your Northern border if the ten thousand of us you brought North decide to march South and burn your lands?” Tyrion asked.

The numbers that had been brought to take the black could conceivably do that. They could overthrow the brothers here and kill Lord Commander Benjen Stark before the North was aware. That was what Aegon’s eldest bastard had muttered as a way of escaping when the time came. Tyrion felt that, although it could be done, it would most likely fail. I want to live longer.

“You would die before you reached Winterfell. You would die before you reached East Watch by the Sea if you tried to escape too. And The executions will prevent you from even attempting that Tyrion.” Jon replied with a snarl.

Tyrion felt annoyed. He didn’t know what the bastard wanted with him today. It was easier when I knew he wanted to kill me.

“Then what do you want?” Tyrion spat.

Jon shook his head. “I’m here to offer you a small mercy Tyrion. The North Remembers and my sister Sansa spoke of you and her time in the capital. She wanted one kindness done for you.”

“My wife warming my bed would be nice before I take the Black.” Tyrion retorted.

He didn’t see the King in the North move towards him as he flew up into the air. A hand around his throat as the demon wolf squeezed it with his claws. Eyes flashing Red in the centre of the grey before he dropped Tyrion to the floor. Tyrion coughed violently as he tried to right himself and get back on his chair. His breathing felt heavy and strained as the air came back into his lungs.

Looking up from his chair; Tyrion saw the snarling face of the King in the North. He spoke darkly. “You helped bring dragons and ruin to the North and my people.”

The King in the North towered over him as he spoke the words that had started this war.

‘To my sister.’

Tyrion felt himself go pale. The bastard of Winterfell growled.

‘I only offer you this mercy because of Sansa. If she didn’t, I would not have come and I would have happily let you freeze on this Wall once I am done with your bitch of a Queen and cunt for a King.’

Tyrion sighed. “Then spit it out and be done with me.”

Jon nodded. “I found your first wife Tysha and your daughter.”

Tyrion felt another chill down his spine. The King in the North wasn’t lying. That was something he knew. Savage as he was; he hadn’t lied about anything he had done or said. He isn’t offering me mercy though. He tells me he’s going to kill her too and a child I didn’t know about until now.

‘The young Joanna has quite a nice but hard life married to a small merchant. I’ve arranged for the husband to be given a large offer by the Iron Bank to ferry goods on their behalf. They’ll be quite well off and your wife and daughter will live comfortably.’

Tyrion looked at the man speechlessly as the King in the North started to walk away to the door. The Lannister name was dead but a bit of his blood would continue. It was something. A shadow of a shadow of the Lannister Legacy but something.

And then it him. “They’re hostages.”

The King in the North stopped and turned. His face like Ice. “Unknowing ones but yes. If what I do tomorrow does not deter you or anyone else in the Wall, The Bank will impoverish them and let them die in the dirt as far away from Braavos as one could imagine. You’ll be helping to guard my Uncle from any that want to put a knife in his heart like they did me.”

‘Do your Duty Well Lord Tyrion.’ Jon commanded as he slammed the door shut.

Tyrion stared at the door wordlessly and emptily for a long time after it had slammed. The cold in the room penetrating every part of his body.

Hope you all enjoyed it!!! Any questions feel free tae ask.

Know that Tyrion's actual mercy by sansa was the wall. Jon would have killed him fir being hand to daenerys and bringing her over. Tysha and his daughter are the punishment so Jon has someone out of the royalists tae look after his uncle benjen as Lord Commander as an extra defence.

Ashara chose the pack here and Rickard's quite wise but the savagery is till ever present like his father. The growl is now a permanent reminder and feature of the starks.

Daenerys met Old Nan. And I've realised my own view on who Old Nan is. No evidence at all fir it in canon but fir this I felt it would fit quite nicely.

Next chapter is the execution. Jon and Daenerys' povs are definite but there might be another. It will also be the second last chapter. Jon's will give a few more pieces on the realm and what it is like too.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 42: An Execution in the Cold

Sorry I am late. On a master's degree now so very busy. That and dany's pov took work. Hope you all enjoy and feel free tae comment as always.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Sansa

Sansa felt Rickon place his hand to her shoulder as she looked at what was her brother Bran and now a dead eyed being known as the Three Eyed Crow at this Weirwood beyond the Wall. Jon and Rickon had told her upon their reunion of what had happened to Bran. Of how he had given himself to the Crow in order for the First Men to have a chance to make a pact with the Others. Of how it killed Bran so the Crow could have his body. Sansa thought sadly to herself as she looked at what was once her brother by the Weirwood; guarded by the Dead Man known as Cold Hands.

“I almost killed the Crow when Jon had brought me here to see what had truly happened to Bran when I was old enough.” Rickon said quietly with a growl as he looked at the Crow.

Sansa felt her brother’s pain in the words.

“And you killed more squids and bandits than any man could count after.” Whoresbane, Great Jon and Ned Umber said in almost unison.

Sansa knew that story. Old Nan had told her of how Jon and Rickon had spent a month after their visit to the Crow on the Western Shore, killing as many squids that they could dare find. It was where Rickon started to earn his name as the Hungry Wolf come again until it was cemented permanently with the end of the Iron Islands.

“He didn’t deserve that fate.” Sansa responded.

It was Meera Reed, the Lady of Greywater Watch, that replied to her in the circle around the Godswood. “He didn’t Princess Sansa. But he did something few would be willing to do. He died a Stark.”

Her words were solemn and mournful.

“The North will never forget Bran Stark my Princess.” Lord Flint said in the circle of Northmen.

She could hear a few of them murmuring “The North Remembers Bran Stark” with respect.

“His legacy lives on in every first man and woman that lives today in Spring my Princess.” Alsyane Mormont added.

“Like yours will as the she-wolf that brought the knights of the Vale to heel.” Toregg stated firmly.

Sansa had never felt more relieved to be home with her people even as they were waiting to witness an execution. Her people had welcomed her home much kindlier than Sansa could have expected and she had been offered time to dwell in all of their keeps and lands of every Northern house both old and new so the Princess that had been stuck in the South could enjoy her homeland. It was an offer that Sansa was more than happy to accept. But let me enjoy my pack at Winterfell first. Sansa had responded to them all as she turned her gaze from Bran to the pack of Starks with her. All of their Direwolves present and surrounding the pack; Nymeria and Shaggy at the front. And my young pup will join them when she is old enough. Sansa thought proudly at the gift her nephews and nieces had presented upon her return.

All but the youngest Starks were present with Jon’s youngest Robb and Rickon’s children left at be the Starks of Winterfell.

Even Uncle Benjen was here, watching over the main prisoners in the circle.

Val was at the front of the pack and staring at the dragons chained and tied to stones beside the Weirwood. To her left was Rickon’s wife Lyanna and young Lyarra and Eddard at her right. Lyarra Stark a mix of them both and young Eddard just like his namesake barring the blue-grey eyes. Just to the side of Lyanna were Rickard and Brandon Stark. Jon and Val’s eldest children. Rickard was Jon’s son to the letter with the same dark brown hair and grey eyes and Brandon taking his mother’s colouring in full. Between the two brothers was Jon’s mother, Ashara Dayne. She could hear the two whispering words of comfort to their Grandmother in preparation for what was to come. She could hear them whispering words on how to proceed when it happened.

“Don’t look away. Father will know if you do.”

Bran had told her those words after witnessing his first execution. Jon had said them to him to help him keep his nerve.

“These Southerners clearly didn’t have a cold winter if they’re still shaking in their boots.” Old Nan spat as Osha kept her upright.

Sansa smiled at the Old woman that she had long thought dead before turning her gaze to the Southern Lords that no longer controlled the North or herself. The shivering Lords all waited impatiently for Jon to arrive. All but the Queen Shireen who stood more like a Northerner in the cold; having left her sons and Davos Seaworth the hand of the Queen to govern in her stead so she could witness this.

To witness the end of one dynasty. And for hers to begin.

And a new reign it was. The Northmen’s vengeance had created a new realm South of the Neck. Something that nobody could deny. The Riverlands had risen to a true Kingdom under control of House Tully. House Royce returned as Lords of the Vale. The Stormlands once again under a Baratheon. House Martell and Dorne with a new Prince that was influenced by Jon’s cousin Edric Dayne and House Yronwood. The Westerlands now under House Marbrand and the Reach under House Tarly. All of under the command of Shireen of the House Baratheon. The Storm Queen that was likely to do what Aegon the unlikely could not and have the entirety of the realm South of the Neck bound to the crown in blood by marriages with Stannis betrothed to Edmure’s youngest daughter Catelyn and Davos to be betrothed to Manfrey’s granddaughter and future Princess of Dorne.

A realm bound in a way that never could be achieved with dragons. Sansa thought as she looked at the Dragons that burnt her sister. They were both chained to large stones and looked a sorry sight; both of them shivering in the cold as their advisors turned prisoners watched with shivers as well. Sansa didn’t feel pity for any of them. Not for the bastard daughters of Aegon that would be married to third sons of Houses so lowly in the Riverlands and Vale that their heirs would have little to nothing. Nor his sons that would serve the Watch for a lifetime. Sansa didn’t even feel pity for Lord Tyrion even though she had asked Jon to send him to the Watch. Simply as a payment of a debt in King’s Landing. Sansa thought as she looked at the dwarf dressed in black like all those who would join the watch today.

At least your life will be useful at the Wall. You can do what Jon commanded of you and quell any dissenters against my Uncle. Sansa thought as she enjoyed the cold and the howls of Nymeria and Shaggy as they moved away from Val and Rickon. The circle going silent. All the Northmen present and Shireen knew what was to come now.

Jon’s here and it is time their watch begins. Sansa thought solemnly.

Jon

The Crown of Winter wasn’t an ornate one made of jewels and gold or of silver and finery as told in the history books. It was a crown made of much more practical materials. A circlet of bronze with the runes of the First Men littered across it. The North Remembers that Winter always comes for us. And Nine Iron Spikes attached to the circlet in the shape of longswords. The simple words and practical materials served a reminder to any King in the North for 8000 years of what truly mattered to the North and her people. Robb Stark’s crown was modelled to be an exact copy of that original crown. And now I am to wear it. Jon thought as he picked the crown up and placed it on his head in his almost empty quarters at Castle Black. Only Ghost with him in this moment.

It was the first time Jon had worn the crown. Jon and Arya had found it on Lady Catelyn’s corpse before burning her corpse. He had chosen not to wear it on that day. Simply leaving it in his solar as a reminder of Robb and what he had begun upon his crowning as King in the North. His people didn’t need him to wear a Crown to be their King. Jon didn’t need a constant reminder on his head that it was the only thing left of his brother barring the bones of him and Grey Wind in the crypts; returned home just before Jon’s fight with the Others had begun and overshadowed by his sister’s death. I still wouldn’t wear it if I had a choice. Jon thought as he placed Ice and needle on his back before leaving for the courtyard.

But I promised. Jon reminded himself as him and Ghost made their way into the almost empty courtyard and mounting his horse to ride through the tunnel to the Lands Beyond the Wall.

It had been along the Wall as he made his way to Skagos where he had met Robb again after the burning at the Wall. Jon had found himself in the crypts of Winterfell when sleep finally took him a few nights after Arya’s death. He had run through the crypt faster than ever in that dream so Jon could see Arya; forgetting that he could not see her in this moment unless her body was interred in the crypts. Jon didn’t remember that until Robb had managed to stop him in his tracks; his brother’s firm grip on his shoulders bringing him to his senses from the mad panic Jon was in and bringing him back to see his brother again.

Robb hadn’t looked any different to how Jon had left him at Winterfell with his broad build and kind face. Only the eyes were different. His blue eyes were filled with the same with grief and rage that Jon felt. Jon felt comfort from that look because he knew what it meant. It wasn’t a look that begged him to calm down or think about what he was about to do. Not the one Ned would have gave if he had come that time. It was a look of understanding between two brothers that Jon would go to the ends of the world and back to avenge their pack. It was a look that promised blood and Jon was more than happy to answer it for his pack. His brother had made him vow to wear the crown when he brought vengeance for Arya and the Pack. Jon would never refuse his brother of that and had hugged him as he swore vengeance for his sister to him and for all the Starks long dead to hear.

“And now I end this.” Jon growled under his breath as him and Ghost rode towards the large procession of Southerners ordered to attend by Shireen and prisoners to take the black that was to either side of him beyond the Wall. He could see the fear on all but the Northmen that were guarding the prisoners and watching the Southerners that had been brought to witness House Targaryen’s end. He could see the coldness on their breaths as they watched him ride through the path left for him. Each breath getting colder as Jon rode closer and closer towards the Godswood. They’re here.

Most of those that had come from the south wouldn’t actually see the executions. It would mainly be the Lords from the North, South and the most significant prisoners witnessing it around the Godswood beyond the wall. The rest would see the bodies brought through though. He knew it would be more than enough to make those taking the black to hold to their vows and for the Southerners to remember what the North was willing to do to those that harmed the North.

Harmed my pack.

The growl escaped his lips in an instant at the thought of Arya as he got closer to the Godswood. The chill in the air dropping once again as the circle of people around the Godswood became clear. Jon could see the banners of the North present and flying around the circle. Everyone from Umber to giant and Mormont to Glover and Crowl and Wull and Thenn had lost blood to the dragons. All the lords and ladies of the North were present to see justice done for their dead kin burnt at the Wall and lost fighting in the South. They would have their vengeance today and know their freedom was assured from now until the end of time against the South.

Jon could see those Southern banners too of all the most major lords of the new six Kingdoms now that the North was free and the Squids no more. The most significant prisoners from Arianne Martell and her bastards to Tyrion Lannister and the Tyrells were also present to witness their monarchs’ deaths before taking the black and becoming prisoners elsewhere for the women. It’s time I avenge you.

The banners of both the North and South parted for him silently as Jon strode through them and began to make his way to the Heart Tree in the centre. Nymeria and Shaggy taking to his side alongside Ghost. His pack was nearest to the Weirwood with Val at the head and his children with her alongside Sansa, Rickon and Lyanna. Even Old Nan as she stood weakly with the help of Osha. All of them waiting for him to bring them vengeance.

And so is my mother.

The Lady Ashara was in between his eldest sons. Her Grandchildren clearly supporting her for what was to come. She had become a part of the pack over time since allowing her to see Rickard after his birth. At least for my children. Jon hadn’t been able to look or speak with her long over the years. It hurt too much to see someone who reminded him of what had been done to Arya. It didn’t take long for Jon to just see Arya’s burnt corpse instead of the mother that had been wronged by House Targaryen like Jon had as well. Any doubt that she felt otherwise had left him when Rickard told him she’d rid herself of that poison.

She knows she can’t go against the pack. Jon thought as he turned his focus solely to the task at hand.

The Three Eyed Crow was already in place at the Weirwood by its large roots with Cold Hands standing sentinel behind him. And the Targaryens were already in place. The dragons that burnt his sister and people chained to large stones placed next to the Heart Tree below the Crow. Jon saw red at the sight of them as he came closer.

Aegon and has bloodied visage with scars both old and new. He had no nose, no ears and a permanent shake in his hands from where Ice and Needle had pierced through them. There was even a shake in his legs even as he sat chained to the stone due to the damage Jon had done. This was a Half-broken man from how Jon had beaten him at God’s Eye. A Price for burning my people and thinking yourself above them. Jon thought as his rage turned to the Dragon Queen that had burnt his sister alive; bruises on her face and missing teeth from where he had knocked her out at God’s Eye. She was silent for once, albeit reluctantly. The Northmen had gagged her so she couldn’t yell and rant; something that had got worse since her time in Winterfell’s dungeons. Jon would remove that gag soon and let her have her final words as was the way of the First Men. My people can hear her scream in pain like my sister and people did all those years ago.

Jon unsheathed Ice with a powerful snarl and the growls of the pack with him as he finally stood in front of them. The Wolfblood pounded through his veins along with all the pain and grief. Jon snarled again as he gave a single command in the snow.

“Words.”

Daenerys

Daenerys barely understood the usurper as he unsheathed his sword and then spoke. It was too guttural and primal. It was too much of a growl like that of the three Wolves beside him. He’s nothing more than a savage dog. Daenerys thought as she tried to remove the gag to scream at the usurper. The one that dared wear a crown in front of her. That’s all he wanted. He wanted power not rightfully his. Daenerys tried to angrily vent. The usurper that dared ignore her said the words again at her husband. This time louder and much more forcefully. The growl ever-present.

“Words!”

Aegon shivered and shook fitfully and with clear fear in his eyes as he looked at the Usurper above him; dressed in full Savage Northern Tartan with a giant Valyrian Steel Sword in his hands and wolves by his side. He cut the terrifying figure for lesser men. Probably why I’m gagged. He knows I will call him what he is as nothing more than a brutish usurper.

Her husband did his best to stop the shivers and movement of chains tying him as he tried to look the Usurper in the eye. Daenerys could see the fear in Aegon’s light violet eyes. Never as dark as hers.

“Please. Mercy. That’s all I ask.”

All he could ask. The usurper stole his right to take the Black. Another reason he is an unjust usurper.

The usurper didn’t seem pleased with the words as he growled angrily with his wolves. His hands gripped the Valyrian Steel sword more firmly.

“Then your last words are that of a hypocrite. You had no mercy when you burnt my people alive and demanded they bend to you.”

The growl was loud and the snarl more guttural than before. Her husband started to cry, tears freezing down his cheeks and where his nose used to be. The shake in his hands and legs increasing in the chains as they rattled. Pathetic. I’ll be happy to see you die.

The usurper just snarled more as he turned his gaze towards her. His face looked more predatory than that of the Cannibal that had killed her children.

“Words.”

The man in black near the freak in the trees came over and removed her gag with frozen cold hands. Daenerys screamed angrily at the usurper.

“YOU DARE WEAR A CROWN IN FRONT OF YOUR QUEEN!!! YOU DARE JUDGE A DRAGON AFTER KILLING HER CHILDREN!!!! IT SHOULD BE YOU HERE DYING!!!!!”

The usurper growled and nodded as Daenerys ranted and raved. He turned back to Aegon; ignoring her screams of rage. His face turned cold and solemn as he looked at the whimpering wreck that was her husband. It was almost calm as the snows landed on his usurper’s crown and the Great Valyrian Sword with a blood red tip. He stood there for a moment in the whimpering and screaming before the White and Black Wolf stepped forward; their red and yellow eyes wide and their teeth bared.

They sunk their teeth right into Aegon’s thighs. Daenerys turned silent as Aegon screamed painfully at the giant wolves’ bites. They were large enough to rip the legs off if they wanted to but had simply stopped at the bones and waited as Aegon screamed in horrible agony. The circle of usurpers and prisoners all watching silently. The usurper then stepped forward with a solemn face and slowly pushed the Great Sword into Aegon’s stomach as the wolves held on tighter. Aegon screamed even harder as the sword pierced the skin and went right into his intestines. Daenerys watched in horror as the usurper slowly but surely pulled them out. Taking his time as blood fell out from Aegon and his screams fell out of his mouth to a silent audience.

The usurper just growled as he slowly pulled them out in a way that kept her husband alive as long as possible. It was only until the intestines were almost fully removed when the usurper released one hand from his great sword into order to unsheathe a much smaller blade. The usurper growled as he pulled the intestine out fully and slit Aegon’s throat at the same time. Blood fell freely out of the neck and stomach as Aegon died. All of the life leaving his violet eyes and ugly face. The savage slammed the small sword into the ice as he gripped the Great Sword again and walked towards the Heart Tree with the freak beside it and offered her husband’s guts to the Tree’s branches and roots. Blood covered the snow as the usurper did his work.

Daenerys started to scream angrily again at him and everyone around them. “YOU CALLED ME THE MONSTER AND YOU’RE GOING TO ALLOW THE SAVAGE THAT DARES CALL HIMSELF A KING DO THAT TO YOUR QUEEN?!!! I’LL BURN YOU ALL WHEN THE GODS SEND NEW CHILDREN TO ME NOW THAT I’M RID OF MY HUSBAND!!!”

The circle wasn’t even looking at her as she screamed.

They were all looking behind the heart tree where a great coldness seemed to emerge from. And with it the creatures that Daenerys could only assume were the ones she had saved the realm from as they joined the circle. The Others. Daenerys realised as she saw her breath go even colder.

“HE WORKS FOR THE OTHERS!!! YOU HAVE BEEN TRICKED BY A MONSTER INTO KILLING YOUR SAVIOUR!!!”

It fell on deaf ears as they looked at the Others.

There were five of them present. Human in stature but in appearance and bearing they were something different. They all looked the same with Ice blue skin and bright emotionless blue eyes. Their faces were like carvings. There was only one that looked different. It looked bigger and broader with horns bigger than the rest and a single bright blue eye and a giant scar where the other eye should be. It was clearly the one in command.

And the one that had a look of fear when standing in front of the usurper and his bloody blade. The usurper growled at the creatures before returning to her. The Others followed slowly and brought the cold closer to her.

Daenerys tried to spit at him. It turned to ice before it could hit him.

“YOU ARE LIAR!!! I DIDN’T DOOM YOUR PEOPLE!!! I SAVED THEM BEFORE YOU COULD FEED THEM TO THE OTHERS LIKE YOU DID YOUR SISTER!!!”

The force of the usurper’s hand as it smashed what was left of her teeth out almost brought Daenerys to unconsciousness as she felt the blood freeze down her chin. She felt his savage grip as he brought her head up to see him. His eyes were flashing red in the grey like a demon.

“Know that everything I have done from killing your monsters to ending your reign will guard the realms of men and has fulfilled a pact more important than any.”

The growl was piercing through her as he spoke the same madness as the old woman in the dungeons. Daenerys felt a shake in her body. I will not be intimidated.

“Liar.” Daenerys spat out.

The usurper snarled. “But know I would do all of this because you burnt my people alive…”

He got in closer; his teeth fully bared with malice. ‘I would do all of this because you took my sister’s life from her and took her from the pack. Because you burnt my sister to death and left me nothing but her burnt corpse and sword.’

Daenerys tried to hide her shaking of chains. “I am the dragon.”

“You will watch what happens to you after I finish gutting you while my wolves feast on your flesh.” The usurper said icily as he pushed her head towards Aegon’s corpse and held hit firmly to the stone. She could feel the pain as he pushed slightly. Daenerys looked at her husband’s pathetic corpse and wondered what more there was to see until she saw the Other with one eye go towards Aegon’s fresh corpse.

Daenerys screamed before the Other did whatever sick magic that made Aegon’s eyes flash blue and scream an ungodly scream as his legs and arms started to move in the chains. Only the prisoners screamed with her as the man with frozen hands looked emptily at the screaming corpse and cut the chains from the stone; allowing her husband to walk again as a Wight with chains attached to his arms and legs.

It was a disgusting sight as blood dropped and froze to the floor from the now moving corpse as it moved close to her with emotionless eyes before going behind the Others to join them.

“And now his watch begins.” The Northmen all said solemnly. Their words icy.

Daenerys kept screaming as she turned her head back to the usurper. His face more wolf like and predatory than before as he held the bloody sword. Worse than the Cannibal’s face.

Daenerys wanted to beg. The King in the North didn’t let her as the White Wolf and Grey Wolf Bitch jammed their fangs into her thighs and the King in the North jammed ice through her stomach. Daenerys screamed in terror until the small blade of Arya Stark slit her throat and the Great Sword took her guts out into the bloodied snow.

Tyrion

Tyrion’s vision was transfixed on his former King and Queen as the Others guided Daenerys and Aegon’s risen corpses through the large crowd outside of the Godswood for all to see after the King in the North simply said to return in a decade. Their blue eyes were shining unnaturally and standing out all the more in the white snow. Tyrion could see the blood dripping from their guts and thighs onto the snow as they walked through the silent crowd. The blood turning to Ice. He could hear the iron chains clanking against the corpses as they took every step at the command of the Others. The Others that fear the King in the North.

Every part of Tyrion’s body felt like ice in the moment as he tried to hold himself together from what he had seen and would see again in a decade. Not that Tyrion could ever forget as he held back the bile in his throat. If it were only Tyrion and the Northmen present, he would have been the odd one out as he saw their looks of grim satisfaction at what their wolf for a King had done. Solemn faces but approving eyes. Tyrion realised as he looked at every Northern Lord in the circle from the Starks all the way to the giants that towered over them in the circle. Even Sansa approves by those wolfish eyes.

The faces of the prisoners shared a similar look to Tyrion though. Aegon’s eldest bastards, Rhaegar and Elia, looked broken at the sight of their father turned to a corpse. Arianne Martell looked terrified for once in her life. Willas Tyrell looked the same as Tyrion; his entire body willing himself to hold back the bile and disgust.

They all shared the same look of dread on their faces at witnessing a demon kill without mercy.

Tyrion could even see that dread on the newly risen Lord Paramounts of the Reach and Westerlands. Both Tarly and Marbrand looked terrified. Lords Tully, Royce, Yronwood and Martell had solemn looks but Tyrion could see the shock in their eyes. The hints of fear. Only the Greyscale Queen, Lord Dayne and the Knights of the Bold had a face of approval and grim satisfaction like the Northmen.

“You will never forget this and will be shown them again once a decade.” The King in the North growled as he faced the prisoners in the circle and the Southern Lords.

Tyrion turned to the demon; his bloodied blades and crown standing out in the snow alongside the blood red eyes of his wolf. Everyone’s gaze transfixed on the demon as he spoke with the same force that he had with Daenerys before executing her and turning her into a walking corpse.

‘You will not forget what lies beyond the Wall nor the pact that must always remain in place. You will not forget your duties to the Night’s Watch. You will not forget what the North does to those that dares to harm her and make her yield… ’

The King in the North’s snarl lingered in the air for a long moment. Tyrion felt the blood drain from him as the snow landed on his shoulders.

‘And You will not dare to forget my sister’s name and what you did to her!!!’

The last words seemed to make the world shake for Tyrion as the fear consumed his body. The Northern Lords’ words adding to it as they joined their King as he spoke.

“The North Remembers and so will the South!!!”

The words echoed in the Godswood alongside the howls of the Direwolves. It felt worse than the roars of Cannibal. Tyrion was speechless.

And Tyrion was terrified as the Lord Commander Benjen then barked for all the male prisoners to walk before the Heart Tree. Rhaegar and Tyrion were pushed to the front to be the first to take the Black with the dead eyed man in the tree watching over them. Neither refused them as the King in the North glared at them with sparks of red in those vengeful grey eyes; watching over them as they approached the Weirwood tree.

Tyrion felt tears leave his eyes as he said the words; the dead man in black and Benjen Stark forcing his hand and Rhaegar’s onto the bloodied roots of the Weirwood.

“Night Gathers and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall not take not wife, hold no lands and father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers and the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honour to the Night’s Watch, for this night and all nights to come.”

Tyrion cried all the way through the words as he felt a tug from the Weirwood. As did Aegon’s eldest bastard. He was terrified knowing his fate that would come back to haunt him every decade alongside the Others. To guard these realms knowing that if I dare disobey that demon’s orders, I will serve the realm in both life and death as a corpse and reminder of what the North is willing to do to those that dare harm the pack.

Tyrion was the first of ten thousand men to take the black that day.

None of them dared run. To run was a face worse than death.

“And now our Watch begins.” Tyrion repeated to himself with icy tears on his face as he looked again at the demon that had destroyed Tyrion’s reign and had made him nothing more than a footnote in the rise of the North.

Hope you all enjoyed it there!! Feel free tae comment as always and ask any questions.

Once a decade they Others will come and show themselves off and that of Aegon and Daenerys as a reminder of what the North can do and that they should remember the Others exist.

Jon wouldn't settle for less for his sister's death.

Chapter Text

Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.

This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.

Comments and everything below is from the OA.

Chapter 43: Epilogue

I hope everyone enjoys the final chapter! I am very sorry it is late. Was a shorter chapter but a harder one tae write. That and I'm on a master's degree and currently mobbed. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it and feel free tae comment as always.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Val

Jon looked more at peace now that the dragons were truly gone and the South was no longer a problem. Too terrified of the North to do anything again. Val could see that clearly as she stood beside him overlooking the Courtyard. He looked at peace despite the wolfish face. Despite being the White Wolf of Winter.

Val knew that what Jon had done would never bring Arya back but it had given her the justice which Jon would never have denied her. It gave him the knowledge that he had finally avenged her. She was glad that he had got to do that for his sister. We do not hold back when a kneeler harms the pack. Val thought to herself as she looked at her husband smiling wolfishly as Eddard and Lyarra watched over young Robb knocking his bow with an arrow whilst Rickard and Brandon sparred.

Jon’s grin widened when Robb’s arrow struck the close to the centre.

“A couple more years and he’ll only be hitting in the centre.” Jon said happily to her. And loudly enough for young Robb to hear from below if the smile was something to go by.

Val smirked at her husband. “Though he’s a while away from being as good a shot as Lyarra.”

Her point was proven quickly as Lyarra showed him how to aim for the centre; loosing her arrow right into the target’s centre.

Jon grinned approvingly at his daughter before turning his gaze to Val. “Woe to the man that tries to steal her.”

Val laughed at the thought. She couldn’t imagine her daughter going easily in that situation when the time came for it. She is my daughter. Val thought proudly as she saw her teach her youngest child.

“She’s more likely to take after me King Crow. She’ll be the one that does the stealing.” Val replied.

Jon sighed as he placed his hand on Val’s hip; eyes looking at her with a mixture of mirth and lust. “I still disagree on that. Do I need to remind you that it was the other way around?”

Val smirked knowingly at her husband. “You can later tonight. But unfortunately, we are both busy as King and Queen in the North.”

Something that they both knew was true. Spring and an end to the wars with the South didn’t change that fact. There was much to be done in the North with roads needing repairs, crofters taking to the lands again to farm and herd animals, new keeps for the free folk to be finished and the final five towers of Moat Cailin needing to be completed to restore the great fortress to its glory. It was all work that Val felt confident would be completed before Summer came. The full might of the First Men and the giants were united in that and Val didn’t doubt the capabilities of any of them.

Jon moved closer to her and spoke deeply with his ever-present growl. “Then later it is Val. I intend to win this argument.”

Val smirked. “Maybe you can win that argument in the yard before we take to rutting like wolves in the night. We have time for that at least.”

Jon answered it with a feral grin as the two marched down the Courtyard to spar; both the guards and their children clearing the way to watch them fight like Northerners should.

Tyrion

The novelty of pissing off the Wall that Tyrion had all of those years ago was gone as he stood on top of it. His new home and prison now that his vows were taken. Never to drink fine wine, fuck a good whore or enjoy the warmth again. Only took look down at my small part of the world. Tyrion thought bitterly as he looked down towards Castle Black.

Even from above; Tyrion could see that the Castle was busy with training and maintenance of the Castle. It was hard not to be with all of the brothers of the Watch that went along the Wall. Over Ten Thousand strong and with enough forces to man every castle. Filled with former zealots, soldiers, Lords, bandits, the last of the squids, Aegon’s bastard sons, Tyrells and Lannisters. All of them doomed to die in the cold that never seemed to stop and to restore the power of the Night’s watch. Never to play the Game of thrones again. Not even to plot against the Lord Commander Benjen Stark. An idea that the Others and King in the North had crushed and Tyrion would be quick to remind any of them if they did the impossible and managed to forget. Tyrion doubted they would ever forget as he looked down towards the shit view.

Still better than looking the other way. Tyrion thought grimly as he reluctantly turned; the air turning colder as he looked to the Lands beyond the Wall that only had the sounds of the biting wind in it and the howls of animals howling. It almost looked empty as the snows consumed the trees. But it never has been nor will be.

All of the realm knew that it was not just animals beyond the Wall now that the Free Folk were a part of the North. They had all seen the Others that dwelled far North to the Lands of Always Winter. They all knew of the two undead thralls that they had for servants. The ones I’ll see again in a decade. Tyrion thought with a shudder; his thick black cloak not being enough to keep him warm as the endless expanse of cold pushed the chill towards him.

The return of the King and Queen he had served in a decade would be an event the realm would gather to see again. All the Northerners would come to see what their King had done to make sure nobody ever forgot. The sons and daughters of the Southerners would come with their fathers to understand why the North should be feared and reminded of their duties to always man the watch. For Tyrion it would be a reminder of everything he had lost as he saw their broken and hobbling corpses with bright blue eyes instead of their Valyrian purple. Not that I could ever forget. Tyrion thought with another shudder.

He could already see their frozen corpses every night. Sometimes he could see himself as one of them. That always made him wake with a scream even if it made him look the frightened fool.

“What would it matter if they think me a fool? I am no Lord or man with power. Simply Brother Tyrion the dwarf of the Night’s Watch.” Tyrion said with a sarcastic sigh before beginning to walk towards the lift down. Down towards the living.

Tyrion stopped at the thought and shook his head.

“No, not the living. Just the Watchers on the Wall too afraid to die.” Tyrion said to himself with a bitter laugh escaping his lips and the cold tightly wrapped around the air that left him.

He laughed all the way down the lift.

It was all he had left between the screams of fear and the misery of it all. Hear me Roar. Hear me Laugh at my failure.

Davos

It would take a long time for repairs to be done to the city. That was something Davos had understood from the moment they had taken it. The wildfire that had consumed the gates and weakened the walls were just the most recent example of how the city had been damaged since the War of the Five Kings had begun. The docks were damaged, winter had made the roads all the more broken and there was still a large hole of dirt from where the Sept of Baelor once was. There was a lot to be done but Davos wasn’t one to be put off by the work that needed to be done. And Spring is here to make it feel a little bit easier. Davos had thought to himself at the time when he had looked over the calm seas and blue skies.

Himself, Devan and Maester Alleras, three of the seven members of the new Small Council, had begun oversight whilst the Queen was seeing justice done beyond the Wall with the rest of the Council Members. Outside of Davos and Devan’s appointment as Hand of the Queen and Master of Ships before the war; all appointments had been decided after the trial of the Targaryens and their court with Maester Alleras as the Grand Maester, Edmure Tully as Master of laws, Ser Rollard of the Bold as Lord Commander of the Queen’s Guard, Lord Albar Royce as the Master of Coin and Lord Estermont as Master of Whispers. Davos had thought the appointments by his Queen quite sensible though time would truly tell once the Small Council meetings begun in truth.

Something that can finally begin now that Shireen is home. Davos thought happily as he took his seat beside her in the Small Council Chambers; his Queen giving a kind smile as he joined her.

The Queen had made her way back home from beyond the Wall and so had the rest of the realm. Davos only needed to look at the Southern Lords to see that they had seen the Others and what the King in the North had done. It would be a long time before any Lord, especially those in the Reach and West, that would be a threat for a while. And Shireen is the first capable Monarch this realm has had in decades. The realm will not suffer under her. Davos thought with confidence as he watched the rest of the Small Council joined them.

Shireen turned to her with a wry smile and a voice backed with iron. The Queen that grew through winter and will continue to in Spring.

“Shall we begin then Lord Hand?”

Davos smiled and nodded as the first Small Council meeting under the Good Queen Shireen began; his old bones feeling warm in the Spring.

Sansa

Dawn was almost as happy as Sansa was on the winding roads towards the Mountains. Sansa could see that in the way her quickly growing Direwolf pup howled with joy as she ran around the much larger Winter, Ice and Frost. The Direwolves of her nephews and niece, Rickard Brandon and Lyarra. All of them riding beside her and their retinue of guards. The group was making their way towards the lands of House Wull where they were to meet with Rickard’s betrothed and escort her to Winterfell with all the Mountain clans behind them for the wedding. A one that all of the North would be in attendance for. The first wedding in Spring. Rickard would be getting tested by The Wull to see if the Crown Prince was worthy of his daughter before agreeing officially to the match. Sansa didn’t doubt her eldest nephew in that matter though. He’d proven his worth when fighting with Rickon and the Northmen, Wull included, on the Iron Islands where he had taken Red Rain in the ending of House Drumm.

“I could have killed a dragon and Theo Wull still would have me tested by himself and his strongest fighters.” Rickard had said with a grin when Sansa had made that point to her nephew before their departure from Winterfell.

His grin had set the tone for their trek to the Mountains. A joyous one with clearer skies and a lot more greenery now that Winter was over and only the odd snowfall to happen. I think Lady would have enjoyed this. Sansa thought with a brief moment of melancholy before her niece bolted ahead on her horse with a laugh on her lips as she shouted.

“I want a race with you brothers!!! And you Aunt Sansa!!!”

Sansa failed to hold back a laugh at the young girl with honey blonde hair, striking grey eyes and Needle at her hip and Frost running beside her. If it wasn’t for the blonde hair, Sansa would have sworn that her niece was Arya Stark come again. The resemblance in nature was uncanny. But then again, Sansa shouldn’t have been surprised. She could see the Wolfblood was in all of Jon and Rickon’s sons and daughters. Sansa loved it though to be with her pack in Winterfell. It was home. The Lone Wolf dies but the pack survives. Sansa thought with a smile as she heard Brandon give a joyous howl as he spurred his horse with Ice beside him to catch up with his younger sister like Jon did with Arya in their youth.

Sansa smiled at them both as they rode ahead; leaving her with Rickard who was smiling at her.

“Are you coming Aunt Sansa?” Rickard asked kindly despite the growl that seemed to be a part of all of Jon’s and Rickon’s children.

Sansa answered with a wolfish smile. “Well I am a Northern Woman. It would be rude not to.”

And with that she kicked her horse into motion, Dawn running to her side as her nephew followed along the winding road.

I’m home.

Jon

The North was finally free and at peace. The pact had been reforged, the Wall was fully manned again and the Southerners knew to be afraid of the First Men and House Stark.

And my sister avenged. Jon thought as he walked through the crypts of Winterfell in his dreams.

Jon had only had this dream twice since her death and only the once when he died at the Wall and met his birth father. The first time had given him Robb who made him vow to avenge her and wear the Crown of Winter. To be the White Wolf of Winter. The Second had been from Ned Stark before going South, the Father that raised him and had wanted Jon to not go as far as he planned in his vengeance. Jon had refused his adopted Father then. “Wolves don’t show mercy when the pack is harmed.”

And now it has to be her. One dream where I get to speak with her is all I want. Jon hoped as he walked through the crypts; stony faces of Starks going back to the Builder on either side of him. Their faces etched with a grim approval for what Jon had done to House Targaryen. A feral joy was on others as Jon walked past Theon the Hungry Wolf, Brandon Snow and Torrhen Stark. Jon could almost hear the howls of joy from his Father Brandon as he passed his statue with a wolfish grin etched into the face. A grand contrast to the solemnness of Ned Stark.

Jon stopped paying attention to the statues when he heard Arya’s voice shout his name into the echoing crypts; happiness bouncing off the crypt walls. It was all it took for Jon to charge forward in an instant. I get to see her again. Jon thought happily as he ran towards the source of the echo; Arya’s voice louder and louder as he got closer. It hasn’t changed.

And neither had Arya as he saw his sister for the first time in fifteen years. Messy Brown hair, a simple tunic with Stark colours, the grey eyes they shared and the smile of mischief he hadn’t seen since before the Wall. Jon grinned a the two ran into each other and hugged.

Thank you everyone fir reading!! I'm glad you've all enjoyed it!!

Feel free tae ask any questions as always!

And on the matter of me writing on another story, I'll see what I can dae fir Christmas. Currently mobbed wae work and I still need tae figure out how tae structure the other story fir Benjen. I'm establishing a sequel tae that would be fucking massive.