This chapter was written with the help of a friend named thvnder. I call this author a friend but so far it's only in one chapter that the author has helped. But we did have a long talk about the story. I wouldn't say this author and I are doing a collaboration. It's' more this author is a new beta reader. I wanted to put another message at the bottom of the page but I think one author's note is enough. This is my longest chapter and probably the best one thanks to thvnder. I had a really happy day when I saw what thvnder wrote and sent to me.

XxX

The throne room was surprisingly packed.

And it wasn't packed in the sense that there were a few Lords and Knights filling the large space, no, everyone seemed to have gathered in the Throne Room to get a glimpse of the newcomer.

Who could blame them? It wasn't often you got a sellsword come to King's Landing for a meeting with the King. Some would call it an honour, but Iywel? He considered it good business.

Iywel had been in the business for a good while now and definitely knew his way around politics and the manipulative ways of King's Landing folk.

Iywel stood behind the large oak doors that lead into the throne room, his arms crossed impatiently as he caught the glare of one of the knights stood tensely beside the door. They all seemed to stare at him and his bodyguard, Harterne, with a sense of distaste. But it didn't bother him. He'd been in the business too long to even give them a second glance anymore. Iywel averted his eyes as he heard a grunt come from beside him. Harterne had found a new interest in one of the lanterns beside the door and was fiddling with it carelessly, his eyes wide in fascination as the flame flickered in the dim light. Rolling his eyes, Iywel walked over to him silently, grabbing one of Harterne's meaty arms and pulling him away from the lantern before he broke something. The guard that had previously been glaring at the two, was now watching them with increased scrutiny, eyes narrowing suspiciously as Iywel dragged his partner to the opposite side of the wall.

"What did I tell you?" He scolded his bodyguard, shaking his head. "No touching."

"Why not?" Harterne asked, a petulant tone lining his words. "I'm bored."

"You'll be even more bored in the dungeons if you keep on touching things." Iywel snapped impatiently, raising an eyebrow at Harterne, who had opened his mouth to protest. He immediately shut his mouth once he caught Iywel's expression. He'd learnt that it was best not to argue with Iywel when he had his mind set.

The room fell silent for a few moments before the large oak doors cracked open, another but older looking guard slipping through the crack. His eyes immediately landed on the two sellswords and he frowned in what appeared as disapproval.

"King Joffrey will see you now."

Iywel's face lit up in anticipated excitement as he quickly rolled his shoulders before advancing towards the door. He was about to push past the older guard when he was stopped. The guard had placed a gloved hand firmly onto Iywel's shoulder, his eyes narrowed as Iywel turned to glare up at him.

"No funny business. We won't hesitate to defend our King if you start anything."

Iywel kept his expression neutral as he and the guard studied each other. "Me? Funny business? What do you take me for?"

The guard didn't even respond, simply scoffed before moving aside allowing Iywel and Harterne access into the great hall before following behind the two only moments later.
As soon as they had entered the hall, Iywel was slightly overwhelmed at the sheer mass of people that had gathered in there. Lords and commoners alike seemed to have all gathered to get a glimpse of him. He had made a name for himself after all.

Only a few weeks ago Iywel and Harterne had helped an army of Black ManWind defeat one hundred soldiers. Single-handedly. The rest of the men seemed to have been possessed when the horde arrived so it was up to Iywel and Harterne to fight for not only for what they had been paid for, but also for their very lives. It hadn't been too much trouble because the horde's weapons seemed to break after the first swing.

Since news of the battle spread, Iywel and Harterne had received many offers from various Lords and interested parties for hired work, but one invitation had most definitely caught their attention. King Joffrey had invited the two straight to King's Landing and Iywel could only guess that the King wished to make him a Knight. He had shown his worth on the battlefield and hoped that the King had been able to see that.

Joffrey sat on the Iron Throne, glaring curiously as Iywel and Harterne made their way into the hall. He leant arrogantly against the arm of the throne, his eyes narrowed as Iywel took in his surroundings. So, this was the great Iywel. The one that had supposedly killed one hundred men with only the help of his bodyguard. Joffrey wasn't greatly impressed due to the stature of the two men in front of him. They seemed rather unimpressive upon a first glance.

Mutters had rose among the gathered crowd as Iywel ambled down the glossy floor of the throne room, even excited gasps could be heard among the chatter as everyone finally caught a glimpse of the recent centre of attention.

It took only a few moments before Iywel and Harterne stood in front of King Joffrey, both feeling slightly nervous under the intense stare of Joffrey. Joffrey was staring at them expectantly, a muscle in his jaw jumping as they didn't immediately drop to their knees. Realising what the King expected, Iywel dropped to his knee, bowing his head in an attempt to get on the better side of the King. Harterne however, was staring confusedly at Iywel wondering why he had dropped to the floor. Iywel saw that his bodyguard had not followed in his steps and let out an irritated growl. He reached up and grabbed the bottom of Harterne's shirt, dragging him down onto the floor, muttering 'fool' under his breath.

There was a moment of silence as everyone in the crowd was stunned into a stupor at what had just taken place, all looking at Joffrey in anticipation. But Joffrey seemed satisfied with the display and a small smirk made its way across his face as he pushed himself off of the Iron Throne and slowly began to descend the steps. "Rise."

And as soon as the words left the King's mouth, both Iywel and Harterne rose from the floor immediately. Harterne stared dumbly at Joffrey for a moment before glancing down at Iywel, wondering what they were here for. But Iywel ignored him and simply bowed his head once again.

"Thank you for seeing us, Your Grace."

"The pleasure is mine." Joffrey spoke, appearing in front of the two men. However, everyone in the room could detect the sarcasm that lined his words. "A sword for hire is always welcome among the honourable halls of King's Landing. Not that you would know what honour is, of course."

The silence that followed his words left a tense atmosphere. A frown appeared on Iywel's face, confused as to what the King was implying. Wasn't he here to be Knighted, not insulted?

"Your Grace?"

"I assume you're here because you want to become a Knight." Joffrey spoke, beginning to walk around the two. The crown that sat atop his head glimmered in the dim light, silently reminding everyone of the power that the young mean held. "You can forget about that. You need honour to be a Knight and as a sellsword, you'd sooner stab someone in the back than fight with honour."

Harterne let out a small growl of defiance and went to say something, but paused in his words as Iywel slapped a hand against his chest. There was no use in swapping insults. That would get them nowhere.

"You wouldn't be able to protect me anyway," Joffrey pushed, almost waiting for one of the two partners to retaliate. When they said nothing, Joffrey grew infuriated and began to speak once again. "I mean, can this half-wit even handle a sword?" Joffrey motioned to Harterne with a dismissive hand. Harterne narrowed his eyes. If looks could kill, Joffrey would have disintegrated in the middle of the room. "Looks like he can barely even handle himself." Harterne let out a noise of protest, only to pause in his steps as a satisfied smile crossed Joffrey's face. At least he got a reaction out of one of them.

Iywel pushed down the slightly disappointment he felt and lowered his hand, levelling the King with a glare as he appeared in front of them once again. He put on a facade and simply smirked at the King. "Then why did you summon us here? Obviously not for the pure pleasure of our company."

Joffrey seemed irritated that he got no reaction from Iywel, but decided not to mill on it. He turned on his heel and glided back to the top of the steps before turning back to Iywel. The crowd remained silent as they all watched the interaction between the sellswords and the King. It was interesting to watch, to say the least.

"I need a sellsword like yourselves to do a job for me." Joffrey explained, crossing his arms. "All my knights have been unsuccessful so far."

Iywel let out a low chuckle at that. Only moments ago Joffrey had said that Iywel would be unsuitable as a Knight yet his current Knight's didn't seem to be any better. If the King had to turn to a sellsword, how good could these Knights' be?
"And what job would that be, Your Grace?"

Joffrey's jaw was set tensely as he elaborated. "Members of my army are dying. And I don't mean by natural causes, but in ways that are mysterious to us all." But he didn't elaborate on the manner of the deaths, causing Harterne and Iywel to share a suspicious glance with one another. "I think it is an assassin. It seems to be the only reasonable explanation."

"And what role do I play in this?" Iywel asked impatiently, all proper conduct thrown of the table. He just wanted to know what he had to do and how much he was getting so he could get out of this place.

Narrowing his eyes at the bluntness of Iywel, Joffrey worked his jaw awkwardly but decided to ignore the address. "I want you to dress up as one of my Knights. Pretend to be one in order to find out who's doing this."

Another low chuckle escaped Iywel's lips as he glanced up at Joffrey with a sarcastic expression. "Well, Your Grace, what if they're in this room right now?" He gestured to the long line of Knights that stood just beside the crowd, all dressed in the regal uniform of the Guardsmen. "You may have a murderer in your midst."

"How dare you?"

Iywel smirked over at the Knight that spoke. The Knight had stepped out of the line, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he glared venomously at the two in front of him. "You dare question our honour? What would you know of honour!? Suggesting that one of us is a traitor-!"

"Ser Trant, please," Joffrey spoke impatiently, glaring at the Knight that had boldly stepped out. "Remain silent."
Meryn Trant glared once more at the two partners before reluctantly falling back into line, nodding his head in submission to the King.

Iywel let out a hearty laugh, staring tauntingly at the Knight before returning his gaze back to the King. "I'll do it," at the look on Joffrey's face, Iywel raised a hand. "But for a large price. I don't come cheap."

The court remained silent as Joffrey clenched his jaw, staring impatiently at the partners. "Fine."

XxX

Meanwhile in the North, Robb Stark sat in his tent, leaning over his makeshift battle table with a look of concentration.
"We need more men," Robb spoke bluntly, not looking up at the others in the room. "If we want to win this, we need more recruits."

"We could find some in the houses that once served you, My Lord. I'm sure they'd be happy to fight against the Lannisters'." One of the older men in the room spoke, watching the Young Wolf carefully.

Robb sighed, pushing away from the table and glancing around the men that had gathered in the room. "Send some men to the Houses. We need all the help we can get."

The elder man bent his head, backing out of the tent. From beyond the tent, his shouts could be heard as he collected the men he needed in order to make the request.

Robb looked over at his mother. "The Houses won't be enough." Robb spoke tiredly, running a hand over his face exhaustedly.

"There's a village nearby." Catelyn suggested, moving to her son's side. "We could try and recruit some from there."

The Young Wolf seemed reluctant to be so bold but after a moment, nodded his head. The men in the room scattered, not needing to be told what to do.

XxX

It took only minutes for the men to mount their horses and to begin making their way to the village that Lady Stark had mentioned. An hour later, men were knocking on the villagers doors, requesting aid in the movement against the Lannisters'. Some seemed more than eager to join, others were hesitant and outright refused to get involved.

One of the younger soldiers knocked on one of the smaller houses, waiting silently for someone to answer. This was the third house he had knocked on and he couldn't help but feel guilty for asking the poor villagers for help. They probably didn't even understand what was happening.

After a few moments, a man with mocha skin hesitantly opened the door, a suspicious look on his face as he caught sight of the young soldier.

"How can I help you?"

"I am a fighter of the King in the North, Robb Stark. We're requesting aid against the Lannisters." His words sounded rehearsed but after asking houses before, he knew what he had to say by now. "We ask you to join us in the movement."

"What? The Starks?" The man frowned, glancing behind him. His nineteen year old daughter stood there, shock-still as she stared incredulously at her father. There was no way he was going to agree to do this. He couldn't leave her. Not now. Her father swallowed, closing his eyes as a feeling of guilt began to pool in the pit of his stomach. She would never forgive him for this. But he had a duty to the Starks. He couldn't refuse. Painfully he replied, "I'd be happy to fight."

"Father!"

"Shh, love." He turned around to face his daughter, smiling reassuringly. "You'll be fine. I need to help the cause. It's for the Starks."

A look of realisation crossed his daughters face. They couldn't deny the Starks.

"Sir, we need you to come with us now."

The girl stood there, shocked. This was happening way too fast. Only minutes ago her and her father had been sat at the table, just talking. And now he was leaving? Without even explaining? This was not happening.

"Now?" The man asked, frowning as he glanced between his daughter and the solider.

"Yes, now. Sorry to rush you."

"Please, father," the girl began to beg, rushing up behind her father and grabbing his arm. The soldier seemed startled by the girls presence and the tips of his ears turned a light shade of red. "Don't go."

Her father closed his eyes, tightening his grip on their wooden front door. "I have to." He turned to her, grabbing her face gently in his hands. "You'll be fine. You have everything you need."

A tear rolled down her dark skin, her lip beginning to quiver. "Don't leave me."

Her father said nothing, only pressed a kiss to her lips before turning back to the soldier, a pained expression on his face.

"Where do I go?"

"Follow me, sir."

Wiping away another tear from his daughters face, the man didn't spare another moment before following after the soldier. There was no use in making the goodbye anymore painful.

The girl stood shocked in the doorway, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. He just left her. First her mother, and now her father.

This was what it felt like to be truly alone.