Chapter One

The ride to Harrenhal took several days, though I remember only the last. My weariness of the long travel was accompanied by heavy eyelids and a bad habit of arming myself against every rabbit which dove into the bushes, or any elk we may see sprinting across the horizon. I was very jumpy that last day, watching my own shadow with suspicion and questioning every passerby. I didn't think anyone had noticed until Roose came to a sudden stop a top one of the rolling hills just North of Harrenhal.

He looked towards me, "Is there something I should be aware of?" He questioned, in the same demeaning tone which was a constant. He arched a thin eyebrow, watching as I rode my tall black gelding up to stand beside his great silver mare. My gloved fingers curled tighter around the leather reins, and I found myself pulling my mount to a halt just behind where Roose was stopped.

I gave him an oblivious look.

He narrowed his eyes, "You are spooking at every branch that stirs in the wind, are you wary of something in particular?" He rephrased his question, sharply. I, personally, thought that was a bit of an overreaction, but I didn't point it out as he turned to look off in the direction of Harrenhal.

"There is nothing, Lord Bolton. I'm simply weary from the travel, it's better to stay on my toes than react to nothing at all" I explained, folding my hands over one another and gazing over to rolling fields towards the stack of cliffs in the distance. Just beyond those cliffs lay the ruins of Harrenhal, a once great fortress that has fallen into a state of misery and vanquish. It's a very sad place, with many ghosts and whispers haunting the corridors. I breathed in a good amount of cool air before exhaling slowly. My gaze flickered towards Bolton.

"You have a plan?" I asked, curiously.

For the time being, Harrenhal is occupied by Lannister soldiers' and I hadn't had the courage to ask Lord Bolton how he ever planned to overtake the fortress, when it was heavily guarded by the mighty Tywin Lannister. It was a little late to question his strategy, but I figured I better know the game plan before jumping into battle. Roose opened his mouth to explain without turning to face me.

"Tywin has marched more than half of his army northward, to meet Robb Stark in the Riverlands. He has left Harrenhal with weak defense, the battle will be very one sided. My arrangement with the Brave Companions will make the retaking of Harrenhal a rather quick brawl." Bolton explained, taking a short breath. He looked behind him, past me and out over the small troop he assembled for the journey. "We should be able to keep far more than half of these men alive, since we will bring up the back lines… now, Vargo Hoat should be along anytime to take ten of my soldiers and sneak them into the castle to attack from within. His loyalty will seal our fate"


And that's exactly what it did.

Later that afternoon, the fearsome Vargo Hoat rode up with a company of his fellows and handpicked ten of Bolton's soldiers. The plan was to have Vargo ride to Harrenhal and tell the guard he has taken those ten Bolton men as his prisoners. Once inside, Vargo, his troops and the ten Bolton soldiers would start the battle, open the gate for the rest of Roose's men and then retake Harrenhal with ease.

The plan rolled through flawlessly and by midnight of the same day, Bolton and I were standing in the great meeting room of Harrenhall, watching over the courtyard as hostages were locked in the dungeons and order was restored in the Bolton House name. My lips were pressed in a firm line, my hands clasped together on my lower back. I exhaled sharply through my nose.

Bolton sighed, catching the tension I was purposefully seeping "What is the matter, Aralyn?" He drawled. He didn't actually care; I could sense the boredom and tire in his voice. Never less, I took the opportunity to turn towards him and plead my case. Well, not my case exactly…

After a moment of pondering my words, "What do you plan on doing with them?" I spit out, a flood of relief pouring out along the words. I never knew quite how to talk to Bolton, suggesting my own ideas seemed like a suicide mission. I stared into his half moon eyes with a serious, hopeful look. Roose set his jaw.

"You know well what I plan to do with them…" He began.

"Yes, but-" I attempted to cut him off, with no success.

"You have killed dozens of men on my behalf. You are an able assassin. Why now would you worry about the lives of our enemies? What do they mean to you?" He continued, ignoring any of my attempts to counteract him. I bit my lip, my back to the window overlooking the courtyard.

"They're Lannister men…" I started.

"Even better reason to see them hanged!" He snapped, quickly.

"They're innocent!" I howled back.

Roose would hear no more. His eyes narrowed and his chest rose up with superiority. His gaze drove into my own with an icy bite I could not match. I took a defeated sigh, and waiting for him to unleash his wrath. He didn't.

Instead, he said calmly, "We are at war, young Aralyn. I have no time to fret about the lives of worthless soldiers. They are loyal to our enemies, and the less Tywin has in his ranks, the better. You understand this, I know it. I have seen you kill with a mercilessness I wish you would carry all of the time. I am starting to see these moments of compassion far too often, I worry you are growing soft"

I didn't think twice, "No" I snapped. "I am just tired, Lord Bolton. Excuse my outburst"

This was Roose Bolton's way of marking his superiority. He talks you down, with his words, with his eyes, with the way he stands over you. He has the air of a king, but a king he is not. Lord Bolton has never truly scared me, but the loyalty I have to him is terrifying at times. I swallowed, stepping back to look sheepishly out the window.

The door at the front of the room opened. I looked up half expecting to see Ramsey standing in the entrance, holding his horrible box and smiling with those rows of rotting teeth. Of course, it wasn't Ramsey who stood proudly in the frame; it was an equally unnerving sight.

Vargo Hoat leaned against his long sword, both eyebrows raised and mouth half open like the halfwit he was. I gritted my teeth, my expression remaining neutral. "Good eve' my lord, my lady… it's rather late" Vargo began.

Bolton silently pulled out one of the wooden chairs, sitting down and gesturing to the other end of the table, "Come and sit, sir. You have done well" Roose offered a mild compliment. Though I had no respect for Vargo Hoat, the man had played his roll to perfection. He was the main reason the ealier events had turned in our favour. If it wasn't for Hoat, Harrenhal would still be Tywin's fortress.

Hoat smiled with pleasure and made his way across the room. His dirty boots clanked against the wooden floor and he made no attempt at politeness when he yanked the chair out away from the table and took a seat. I gathered myself before stepping away from the window, and taking a stand just behind Bolton's chair.

"Yes," I agreed, resentfully, "you served well, Hoat…"

"Tell me about it!" Gloated the humble man, "You should have seen their faces; the Lannister soldiers didn't know what hit them!" He cackled, "Our men will drink tonight, Bolton, there is much to celebrate!"

As expected, Bolton wasn't nearly as amused as Vargo seemed to be. Though, he wasn't as putout as I was. Instead, the mild-mannered Roose Bolton nodded in response and cleared his throat to speak, "What of the Riverland battle, Sir Hoat? What of Robb?"

I, too, was curious as to who came out victorious in the most recent battle. I preyed for good news on my brother. Vargo shrugged, "Robb didn't see a fight, unfortunately, and Tywin didn't reach Riverrun at all… The Tully boy, Edmure, I believe, rode out with a fleet of Robb's banner men and met Tywin before the Twins! For every Stark lost, two Lannister's were killed… Tywin retreated; he planned on returning to Harrenhal…"

"King's Landing," I interrupted, drawing both Roose and Hoat's gaze. I paused, taking a breath before continuing "Renly Baratheon was slaughtered by his brother. Stannis sails towards Kings Landing with twice the men he had before, and a strong fleet of battleships… Tywin should be heading for Kings Landing to aid in the defense of the castle" I explained carefully, watching only Bolton for a reaction.

Bolton seemed impressed, just as I hoped, "Two stories, both worth good news for the Starks… If the Lannister's and Baratheon's go into battle, it will leave both armies devastated no matter who wins. Robb will have to act fast if he wants to take advantage."

Vargo and I nodded simultaneously.

"We must move forward" Roose continued. "Hoat, I will give you and your men a day's rest for your great aid in the retaking of Harrenhal. When dawn breaks on the second day, you will ride out to forage. Of course, if you happen to come across any more Lannister forces, be sure to root them out. Finley will ride with you…"

Vargo made sure to shoot me a cunning smile, his eyes dancing with foolish excitement. I resisted the urge to gag out loud. Roose was still explaining the strategy for the next few weeks, but I was busy sharing a silent conversation with Vargo. We glared each other down, the words unspoken screamed louder than the pointless drawl falling from Bolton's lips.

I only looked away from Vargo, the ugly, sharp looking man, when he pushed himself to a stand and started moving towards the window. "Come this way, Lord Bolton, look out the window. It seems our men have decided it is time for their special entertainment."

Both Roose and I looked over our shoulders, and watched suspiciously as Vargo gestured for us to come along. I turned, moving reluctantly towards the opening in the stone to gaze out over the courtyard. My stomach dropped.

There, I saw Ser Armory Loch, being thrown into the bear pit.

I closed my eyes.