Hey guys and gals, I know this is a smaller update but I just wanted to put something out there to assure you that this is not dead. I suspect that my next step will be to put out another chapter or two and then start rewriting and expanding earlier chapters. I see this as the 1.0 version of this story. Someday I hope to deliver the 2.0 version. Thanks for your support as always.
Oops, re-uploaded with the missing conversation between Hunter and Sansa about his origins
An American in Westeros
Chapter 11
Hell is Upon Us
May 301
It took Sansa several hours to extricate herself from the crowd of enthusiastic supporters that had gone wild upon her announcement. Every lord and lady of even the slightest note wanted their presence and their support to be remembered by both history and Lady Sansa.
The long shadows of a cold winter's night were creeping from the windowsills as she made her way back to her chambers. Dozens of candles began their nightly vigil against the dark in the alcoves and the chandeliers of White Harbor's halls. Two burly guards in the yellow and black plate of Harrenhal stood at her door as always. From within her chambers she heard faint voices. Curious she slowly opened the door. As she did so the voices became more distinct.
"...but you can't!" A fretful man who could only be Grimsby the Elder said.
"Nonsense, when my wife arrives she will find me standing" a weak, almost unrecognizable voice tried to declare authoritatively.
Upon hearing the second voice she abandoned stealth and threw open the door. Before her a gaggle of retainers led by Seneschal Grimsby were surrounding her husband. Lord Hunter Whent, now of the United Kingdoms was now a wisp of a man who couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds. His formal wear now seemed to dwarf him, giving the appearance of a child trying on his father's clothes. He leaned upon a pair of wooden crutches with velvet pads under his arms while attempting to stand up straight. He looked up at her an smiled weakly. "I loved your speech" he said before collapsing to the floor.
"Hunter!" She shouted in shock. She dashed to his side and scooped him up in her arms, clutching his head against her chest. "I…we...I feared you would never wake."
He let out a little laugh, "I'm back" he said quietly, lovingly.
A pointed cough reminded the young married couple of the gaggle of attendants surrounding them. Grimsby knelt down to their level. "Our dear lord was being quite unreasonable. When he awoke he demanded to see you immediately."
The head Maester in the Harrenhal retinue, Keld, spoke up. "Though we are all grateful for his recovery, it is critical that he remain in bed for the foreseeable future to prevent his condition from worsening."
" Yes, thank you Keld" Grimsby Sr said with the air of long tested patience. "Your limitless knowledge and wise council are always helpful. Hunter insisted on seeing you my lady, over the objections of all present."
Hunter spoke up, " I heard it was going to be a good show" he said in his defense. "You were magnificent out there by the way"
She kissed him deeply on the lips. After disengaging she said, "you silly fool, I dragged you through endless miles of snow to keep you safe, if you had sent word that you were awake I would have come to you. We'll have none of this from now on."
Grimsby nodded and stood upright. "Come along now" he said as he herded the rest of the retainers out of the lordly chambers.
"But the lord...!" Maester Keld objected.
Grimsby Sr put a hand on Keld's back and pushed firmly. "I believe that Lady Whent is more than capable of keeping Lord Whent in his sickbed for the time being."
She was more than capable and as it turned out, Lord Whent was willing, even eager to stay in bed because of Lady Whent's methods of keeping him there.
Deep in the night Hunter and Sansa cuddled comfortably on their bed under several thick fur blankets. The candles that had been lit had long died down and White Harbor keep was silent at this hour. Though the young couple didn't have the energy to keep up their preferred activity throughout the night, they were content to simply lie there and talk in the quieter moments. After the natural conclusion of one conversation, they lay silent for a moment before Sansa said "So…tell me about Seattle."
Hunter nearly fell out of the bed so startled was he. Panic overtook him and he briefly looked to escape before the rational part of his mind began to sort things out. "Ah…you…Grimsby gave you the journal didn't he?"
"Yes" She replied "It was…" she looked around for the right word "Shocking".
Hunter began to settle down a bit "I can Imagine, I really meant for you to have it if I died, I don't really know where to begin."
"How about the part where you are from another world and have fooled everyone into letting you take over a third of a continent?" Sansa suggested, a hint of something dangerous entering her voice.
"Let me?!" Hunter exclaimed, "No one has let me do anything! I have had to butcher what feels like half the kingdom because they are all trying to kill me! This land is nothing but a charnel house I have done what I knew I needed to in order to survive!"
"And how did you know?" Sansa asked quietly, already knowing the answer.
"So you read all of it" Hunter said, "No reason to expect you didn't I suppose. Yes, I saw this all happen as…well a play would be the closest thing that you understand. I told you before I had seen what might happen."
"Yes but I never expected the true explanation to be so unsettling, are we…what are we?"
Hunter grasped her hand, "You are real, all of this is real. You don't need me to tell you that though do you? You've lived a full life up until this point, you know in your heart that this isn't just some dream".
After a long pause she nodded
Hunter continued "If I had to guess, I'd say that there is probably a world out there where another version of you heard about my world in a tale and got stuck in Seattle. I'm sure in that world I would be just as shocked to hear the same thing from you."
She smiled a little at the thought of that. They both fell silent as they contemplated their new information. "What was Seattle like?" she asked.
Hunter wrapped his arms once again around her. "You'd love it" he said "It's cold, wet and the winters last forever."
She smacked him playfully. "Ow" he said "You can't treat your wounded war hero husband so poorly. I'll have you dragged off to the dungeons you heartless wench!" She smacked him again. "Okay I yield, I yield. I'll tell you about Seattle. In the far north of my home country there is a protected inlet that offers the best port within a thousand miles. Seattle was built there maybe 150 years before I was born. It's bigger than any city you've ever seen before, even Kings Landing…"
And so they talked through the rest of the night content that the subject was if not resolved, at least under control.
Journal Entry (May 301)
I'm back, err…most of me is. Despite the best care available, I'm never going to be as healthy as I once was. I've had a hacking cough since I woke up, I still feel pain all over and my left leg is fucked up enough that I might not walk on my own again. I hated running anyway. For now, though I go most everywhere in a wheelchair. It's as nice as wheelchairs get in this day and age, wonderful leather and plenty of blankets and pillows.
My subordinates are adjusting rather well to my return to command, I'm not the first crippled lord to rule over them and I was never known as a mighty warrior anyway. You don't need to be a mighty warrior and lead every charge if you make enough money!
Edmure Tully is back in Riverrun and ruling the Western Riverlands, I made sure he understood that he ruled in my name. The other remaining nobility in my realm have been fairly quiet in general. They're smart enough to see the casualty rate their kind has suffered under me and they are keeping their heads down. It's not as if I'm trying to wipe them out! It's just that I believe in them sharing some of the risk with the people under them and in times like this, there isn't a large enough population to sustain that policy indefinitely.
May 301
Bear island was not the most comfortable place during winter but it did offer enough shelter to survive the extreme winter. The massive trees guarded against the wind and released enough heat too keep the temperature within survivable ranges if only just barely. Jon Snow's ragtag horde of refuges had cut down many to make the shelters they huddled in. The Wildlings were experts in improvised and cold-hardy shelters.
The trees were more than shelter though, they were salvation. It seemed as if the entire island was being felled as to build more cold hardy shelters and boats to carry them even farther south. They had been carried by the evacuating ships of Stannis's selllsail fleet but too many had decided to run for the beaches of Essos and damn the consequences for the refugees for the whole group to continue south. The young Lady Mormont had taken all of them in, every single one of them. She had declared that House Mormont would not turn away anyone in this dire hour. She spared little time for the "cowards" as she called the crews that had ran for Essos. Consequentially, they had to shelter in place as they made repairs to the remaining ships.
Lady Mormont had decided to strip Bear Island to the bone and move her entire people and the sum of their culture to safety, when advised as to the difficulty of this task, she stood resolute on the matter. There would be nothing and no one left behind so long as she was in charge. They would all leave together.
June 301
Only two human souls remained in the far north. Bran Stark and his companion Meera Reed rested atop the wall. A great cold had ravaged the land but Bran's magic had increased by an order of magnitude. So long as Meera stayed within a half league or so within Bran she felt as warm as she had in the heart of summer in the neck. It was as if there were a shield around them.
Only the wind was their companion along their long trek, all others had fallen by the wayside, Hodor, Summer, Benjen. It had been one long flight since leaving Winterfell and moments like this were few and far between. Meera almost felt at peace on the top of the wall, she had never witnessed a view so grand in her life. It was the sort of view that gave one a new perspective on life. To the north, a blanket of impossibly deep snow covered the endless forest. At the edge of her view, only the very tops of the tall trees stuck up out of the snow. To the south, the ruins of what Bran told her must be Mole Town were just poking out from behind a hill.
They had a long way to go still, Bran insisted that the "key" lie to the south. Neither of them knew what the key was or where exactly it was. All they could do is follow the keys pull on Bran, she didn't pretend to understand that but she didn't need to. All she needed to do is keep Bran moving.
And then the world seemed to end. Bran and Meera were rendered deaf by a sound louder than any that had ever been heard on this world and the wall shook mightily beneath them. An explosion threw a cloud of pulverized ice and rock miles into the air briefly blocking the sun. Meera desperately covered her ears while screaming in pain. Then a calm came over her and the pain faded. She heard Bran's voice despite her deafness, "Hold tight to me Meera I can protect you but you must not let go of me". She wrapped her arms around him and held more tightly than she had ever before.
Journal Entry (June 301)
Hell is upon us.
A sound the likes of which has never been heard by mortal ears in Westeros sounded for all to hear no matter where they were. At first, it sounded like a scream that lasted for god knows how long. Then it stopped abruptly as what sounded like the boom of a jet breaking the sound barrier roared out. No one knows exactly what that was but I can only assume that it was the wall falling as the White Walkers head south. If it's better than that, we might have a chance. If it's worse than my guess; well then nothing will really matter.
To my amazement, Jon Snow of all people arrived with the entire Night's Watch and nearly 10,000 refugees of all sorts. I'm happy to have them but there are still god knows how many people are going to die under Stannis's care when they get hit. It's not enough, saving the refugees, raising new units, deepening the defenses it's all reacting to the enemy. I need to attack somewhere, somehow. I don't know anything about them, how many there are, how to fight a zombie army with medieval weapons. I can't just wait on for the dragons, for all I know they won't work, for all I know the books end with the whole world dying. It's time to take a couple gambles.
Winterfell, it's always Winterfell and the Starks. Every story I hear, every old legend I've dug up it always comes back to them. If I'm going to gamble, that's what I'm going to bet on, thankfully I just got a spare Stark (and or Targaryen) and the Nights Watch doesn't have a post anymore, I'm going to suggest an expedition to re-occupy Winterfell, I know it's been abandoned and I suspect that Stannis will be too busy to send troops to a ghost town. I need them to find something, anything.
Speaking of dragons, the way things are going, I'm not convinced they are not going to cause me problems. To that end, I have developed the world's first anti-aircraft platform. I took the idea of an organ gun and adapted it to my means and situation. It is comprised of four rows of five rifled muskets with flintlocks and synchronized triggers, they have to be disassembled to reload them so we realistically only get one shot in combat but I only need one volley to hit. In the show, spears from the sons of the harpy were able to severely wound one of the dragons so I figure that a volley with enough rounds to chop down a decent sized tree will at least clip their wings. The racks are then mounted on the top of a large tripod with a swivel mount that can be angled nearly vertically. Expensive, potentially useless but they are perhaps my only real chance should the worst come to worst. I call them the Dragonlance A-1, I know I'm still a bit of a nerd. (The A in A-1 doesn't mean anything, I just think that weapon names should be formatted like that).
We have more soldiers than when we first set out on our expedition but they are not on par with the troops they are replacing. I see more and more old men and young boys in my ranks, it's not a good sign. I hope they will be enough.
June 301
The Dreadfort had always been a dark and foreboding place. Its high walls were topped with spikes and menacing carvings that gave it an almost demonic appearance. It was a lesser fortress than Winterfell, smaller and with thinner walls. It was still the most suitable seat for Stannis, the Throneless King in the lands he ruled. It was below the white death as the area unsuitable for human habitation was called but only just barely. The soldiers manning it and the nobles occupying it were a disturbingly large portion of his kingdom. Even when everyone carefully avoided him, Ramsey Bolton could see that the fledgling kingdom was dying faster and faster every day. There was no way, it could survive in the long run. They had won a great battle but they didn't have the resources fight another. They were safe from attack so long as winter held and they could use the time to recover and re-organize but there was no way they could keep up with their enemies. The new United Kingdom would strike in spring with several times the men Stannis could muster. It was time to consider a new path forward.
His future did not lie in the North, at least for the short term. Where to go though? There was enough money in Stannis's Vaults to take a small company of trusted men and live comfortably wherever he wanted. A quiet life didn't appeal to him, he wanted vengeance or failing that at least the opportunity for violence.
September 301
The gates of Winterfell were frozen shut before Lord Commander Snow and his handpicked brethren. It appeared as if the entire fortress was encased in an impenetrable layer of ice. The men themselves felt as if they would soon share the same fate in the horrific cold. It had been a long, hard trip that only the arctic experience of the wildlings that had accompanied them
Ranger Davos Seaworth sidled up beside him. "My Lord it is time to return" he said.
Jon said nothing, he hadn't heard his subordinate, something in the ice had caught his eyes.
Davos changed tact somewhat. "We took a gamble coming here my lord, when you gamble you have to know when to double down and when to head home, this is the latter. There is nothing for us here."
Jon turned sharply "Davos, do you see something in the ice?"
Davos cocked his head "No Lord Commander…what is it?"
On some strange instinct, Jon removed his glove and reached out slowly to touch the ice. When he did, a sharp sound like glass being tapped upon rang out. The ice faded away before his hand revealing words in gold upon the gate he had never seen before. They read "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell". The ice continued to fade away and the gates began to swing open as they came loose. All the men save Began to back away in fright and a warm wind washed over them. In just a moment they went from near hypothermia to being as comfortably warm as any of them had ever been. Jon wheeled his horse around to face his men. "Ser Davos!" He said with a grin that didn't seem to fit his face quite right. "I think it's time to double down!" He turned and cantered into Winterfell without looking to see if any were following him.
September 301
Ramsey Bolton, former Warden of the North strode confidently into the Great Pyramid of Mereen's throne room. It had been a long road to get here, it cost most of his money and several of his men but he had finally reached the Targaryen Queen and the beginning of his long road back to the top. "My queen" he drawled with all the charm he could muster despite his burned and scarred visage. I have travelled long and far to reach you." He couldn't keep himself from leering at her "I have come to you to offer my services; I can help you keep the North after you take it."
Tyrion Lannister, standing on a platform below the queen yet above the main floor moved to speak when the Queen raised her hand to stop him. "And why?" she asked "Do I need your help? I have heard many things about you, you were handed the North…and you lost it."
Ramsey faltered "My queen, the circumstances were extraordinary…"
She cut him off "And you have a reputation of betraying your rulers, how many kings have you abandoned? 2? 3?"
Ramsey was on the defensive, this was not going how he had envisioned, instinctively his eyes started to dart about looking for an exit.
Daenerys motioned for two people to come out of the corner and onto the dais Tyrion was on. The sight of the Greyjoy siblings made Ramsey begin to truly panic. "I have also heard other terrible things about you, we shall need a proper investigation into your activities and character before I can consider your services."
That was too much, Ramsey drew his sword and fell into a defensive stance, looking for a way out. All the unsullied in the room moved quickly to defend their queen and neutralize the new threat but Yara Greyjoy was quickest, a hidden knife practically appeared leaping from her hand and sank into Ramsey's gut. He doubled over in agony. The last thing he saw before the world faded was Yara Greyjoy yanking his head up by his hear and screaming with rage "Theon, get over here it's time to deal with this sick fuck!"