All trademarked items in this fanfiction is owned by their respective copyright holders (A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin, Aoki Hagane no Arpeggio by Ark Performance, etc). The ones owned by me are future OCs, plot, and author's thoughts. This fanfiction is made solely for entertainment purposes and not intended for any material gain.

An Arpeggio of Ice on Fire

Chapter 26

Kevan Lannister stifled a yawn. The afternoon was warm, and today's proceeding has mostly been small, easily-settled disputes. True to his own words when he parted with Tyrion and Jaime, Kevan's work has been anything but glorious. The court of the Westerlands were orderly and tranquil, and the feuds that has been common cases in the court seemed to have reached a lull period. Efforts to return the heirlooms Euron Greyjoy stole has been off to a slow start. A branch family member of the Mallisters of Seagard has been one of the first to claim one of the items from collection of heirlooms, an unsurprising development for Kevan since the Mallisters were pretty much a next-door neighbor to the Greyjoys. A Shield Islander noble is scheduled to meet him in the morrow, eager to reclaim his house's stolen heirloom.

"The last petitioner for today," the herald announced. "Lady Shioni of the House Kirino!"

"Oh?" Kevan Lannister perked up as the young silver-haired lady presented herself before the council.

"Greetings and salutations, Ser Kevan Lannister and the council of The Westerlands," Shioni said after she bowed to the assembled council. "I have come in the behest of my lady admiral Yamato, to learn of the court as my cousin once did."

"I see, I see," Kevan said, rubbing his chin."I was not informed of your coming, Lady Kirino, so imagine my surprise!"

"It was a spurious whim of the Lady Admiral as we sojourned in the seas," Shioni explained. "I was originally only sent here to deliver Lady Hamakaze's vessel, but at the last minute Lady Yamato added this new directive."

"I see. How good are you with numbers and letters?" Kevan asked.

"About as good as cousin Hamakaze, perhaps a little less sure in writing them," Shioni answered the question. "Although I am sure I must learn of the laws and intricacies of court first."

"Good, good. I shall have you start with scribe work like your cousin, under Master Willem here," Kevan said, gesturing to a master scribe on one of the side desk. Willem nodded. "When can you start your work?"

"Tomorrow, if it is required of me," Shioni said.

"I'm sure the rush would not be needed," Kevan replied, making a dismissive gesture. "Join us in three days, so you may recover the fatigue from your journey."

"Very well, Ser Lannister," Shioni said, bowing.

…

In contrast, the meeting in a secluded corner of the Floundering Fishwife is much more tense. Disguised as a skiff flying a Northern banner, Asha's band of sailors managed to gain entry to Lannisport and settled in its shadier side of port relatively unnoticed. Earlier that day, one of the better-looking crewmen went to Casterly Rock to verify then news they got from Sharkey.

"So? How is it Qarl?" Asha asked, a note of impatience in her words. The night was young when Qarl arrived and the crew is finally gathered in the corner.

"I posed as a bard and mingled with court-goers to The Rock," Qarl said, nursing a tankard of beer. "It's there, off to the side by the main gate. Euron's head and the prow-statue of the Silence. It's true, I once saw that galley when it was anchored."

"Damn…" a crewman breathed out.

"That's pretty scary," another crewman said. "Any news from the crew…? Well, mute prisoners at least. Creepy bastard."

"I tried asking around but nothing concrete," Qarl answered the question. "I think they're all dead."

"Not that it'll be any better if they're alive," Asha grumbled.

"Oh, and I also saw a young girl sitting with the council," Qarl threw in a final tidbit of information. "Maybe a scribe? Her hair is silver, though. I think that's not usual."

"Huh, weird," Asha commented. "But still, those bastards killed my kin. Crazy git that he is, he's still family."

"What are you going to do? Burn the ships at port?" a crewmember asked.

"And get our ass kicked the same way my lord father once did? Hell no," Asha said, her tone vaguely offended. "I'm thinking… a kidnapping. We snatch one of them Lannisters, see what they'd do."

"Is our pinnace even equipped to do that?" One of the crewmen objected.

"We'll be fine!" Asha said. "Now we plan the whole thing…"

…

"Erryk," a redcloak greeted, shaking the other man out of his reverie. "I'm relieving you."

"And now my watch has ended, Torrhen," Erryk japed, patting the taller man on the shoulder.

"Very funny," Torrhen replied, his face in a chagrin. "You try that up north and you'd probably lose a few teeth."

"You North-blooded lot, too serious for your own good," Erryk half-groused, stretching a little. "Where's the doom wagon?"

"I came behind it, so it must have been right up the doom room by now," Torrhen said. "We have a couple of minutes I reckon."

"To think that that accursed Targaryen king hid this much wildfire under his own palace," Erryk said before he sighed. "The toils to remove them is endless. Not a single day that those ladies stopped, and we've been here two whole weeks."

"Aye… such heroic deed for nothing more than the substances itself," Torrhen said. "If ever they opened their doors to accept employ, I will leave The Rock for it."

"More likely to lower pay, though," Erryk replied. "Maybe try gaining employ directly under Lord Imp instead? His issue would be half-Kirino with Lannister fortune."

"Oh ye of little honor," Torrhen replied.

"What's wrong with that? Can't eat them bloody honour-" Erryk shot back, before movement behind Torrhen startled him. "Oi! This parts are forbidden…"

Said blur decided it is a good bargain to race forth, checking Torrhen on his unstable leg and causing the North-blooded man to stumble and fall to a heap. Erryk reacted by trying to draw his sword, but it was worn on the side nearer to the wall so he failed to draw it. The tresspasser was a blur as he passed Erryk and raced towards the larger tunnel, before a lithe girl grabbed him by the collar and slammed him to the ground.

"Stop! By the seven or I will-" Erryk said, having caught up to the blur just as Kasumi rendered him unconscious. "A thousand pardons Lady Kasumi! The bastard took us by surprise while we were talking!"

"No matter. Anybody injured?" Kasumi asked.

"Only bruises I reckon," Torrhen said finally catching up from behind Erryk. "Brat knocked me down but the fall wasn't too bad."

"Good," Kasumi replied. "Any ideas on who this boy is?"

"No milady, might have been one of the serving boys from the keep proper," Erryk said as Kasumi tied the boy up. "Maybe he took a wrong turn and got lost. There had been many people missing down here, often by taking a wrong turn like that."

"I heard a commotion from the wagon, is something amiss?" Tyrion said as he entered the scene.

"A trespasser bumped to us and tried to run away after knocking Torrhen down, milord," Erryk reported. "Lady Kasumi caught and knocked him out before he got to the main hallway."

"I see… we should take him into custody for questioning," Tyrion said. "Which one of you is doing the next shift?"

"I am milord," Torrhen replied to the question.

"Back to your posting then," Tyrion said. "Haul him to the boat, guardsman."

"Aye milord," Erryk said as he took the unconscious boy.

"I'm going to check the countermeasures," Kasumi said, giving Tyrion a final gaze as she trailed Torrhen. "I'll report any compromised items to Kirishima, so go ahead and transport the urns to the ship. I can catch the next boat."

"Thank you for the hard work, Lady Kasumi!" Tyrion said as the duet went deeper into the side-tunnel.

"Scary," Erryk commented. "She must have taken the boy down and subdued him between the blink of my eyes, milord… she is just that fast . Could she be as strong as one of those legendary Faceless Men? "

"Don't be ridiculous my goodman, Lady Kasumi can't shape-shift," Tyrion said before a sigh and a chuckle. "Such is the bed I chose to lay on, apparently. We better hurry."

"Aye milord," Erryk said, hauling the boy behind Tyrion.

…

To whom it might concern,

We found your operative in the undersides of the keep. If you have a use of him there, please make sure he does not trip into doors not meant to be open.

Sincerely,

Western Fog

Varys received the short message, and immediately contemplated how to take the next step. One of the Hand's men passed this note to him, and when he came to Jon Arryn for answers he cannot provide much beside pointing him towards the serving staff who brought it to his attention. After a little more sleuth work, Varys found the serving boy who received the message. The poor boy can only say that he met a few men while getting lost in the underbelly of the keep, then was subdued and lost consciousness. The tidbits of conversation ostensibly about the Westerlands and North having secret deals was juicy, but Varys didn't want to put much stock on that on account that the boy wasn't a trained Bird and could be inaccurate. Still, the bit is curious. Very curious.

Thus it came to this. Varys contemplated about getting in touch with Tyrion Lannister, thinking of him as a good bet for information. As it turned out, the day after Varys received the letter is the day that the Little Lion had his practice with the foreign ladies in the grounds. In fact, Varys spent some time studying the dwarf, who sat on a stool, huffing with the exertion of archery. The midday sun is right overhead, prompting Varys to make a move.

"My lord of Lannister," Varys' soft, not-quite-male voice sounded from behind Tyrion. It seemed to take all of the Westermen noble's willpower not to flinch. "I have received your message."

"Really?" Tyrion asked, clearly off-balanced by the sudden interaction. "I sent many messages these past few days."

"Is that so," Varys calmly replied. "It bears the signature of someone called the Fog of The West. Since you recently came from the Westerlands, I thought perhaps you have heard of this person."

"Ah… congratulations Lord Varys, you have met the Western Fog," Tyrion said as he made eye contact with the Master of Whisperers. His tone shifted... more confident, as if expecting me, Varys thought. "So, are you prepared to hear what I and my betrothed's house is going to tell you?"

"That would be a most interesting subject, my lord," Varys agreed.

"Lady Kasumi, if you could fetch Lady Yamato please? The Spider wants a word with us," Tyrion called to Kasumi, who stood waiting for her turn in the range. Kasumi nodded, before she walked to Yamato and whispered something. The tall black-haired lady finished her arrows and finally gave the bow to one of their attendants. The lack of hurry is not lost to the spymaster.

"Good afternoon my lord," Yamato said after she wiped her brow from sweat and dust. "Tyrion, is this…"

"My name is indeed Varys my lady, I am glad to have made acquaintance," Varys cut Yamato before Tyrion could reply.

"Ah, The Master of Whisperers himself… excellent. I am Yamato Kirino, the head of House Kirino and soon-to-be Tyrion's goodsister," Yamato replied. "Would you know a place with… a little more shade, Lord Varys? I'm afraid the heat of King's Landing has its own… quirks compared to The Westerlands'."

"Right this way then," Varys said, making a gesture to follow him.

…

In Winterfell, the day has been mundane. The air was a bit nippy from a sudden summer snowfall last night, but the castle was able to function as it is every day. After all, winter is always coming this far north and the lord of the castle always reminded the populace of that.

"Letters from The Wall, milord," the maester said, opening the door to Eddard Stark's solar after an affirmative reply sounded from the inside. "They are marked with urgent priority."

"Thank you, Luwin," the lord said as he accepted the scroll and broke the wax seal. "It is unusual to have urgent messages from there…"

"Is… something amiss, Lord Stark?" Luwin said, noticing that the Lord-Paramount of The North has suddenly grown pale after reading the first letter, and now hurriedly breaking the seal to the second.

"…The dead marches to the wall," Ned Stark said after a while and two heavy, steadying sighs. "Lord-Commander Mormont and Benjen wrote the exact same thing. All three manned castles are besieged by a large amount of enemy. The watch calls for aid."

"By The Old Gods and The New…" Luwin breathed. "But surely there has been a mistake… I mean it's not even winter yet, the white raven…"

"Benjen is not a liar… never a liar," Ned's tone made it seemed that his voice is more a growl than his normal pitch. "Gather all my family here Luwin, but try not to cause a stir."

"Including…" Luwin replied, his tone hung in the air for a few heartbeats.

"Including Jon," Ned said, finishing the sentence. "My lady wife can raise all the fuss she wants but winter is coming… no, winter is here."

"Immediately, milord," Luwin said.

Left in silence in the confines of his solar, Ned Stark tried to calm down as Luwin's footsteps recede into background noise. Deep breaths Ned, deep breaths, he thought to himself as he heard the voice of his youth in his head, Use both your stomach and chest… in from the mouth, out from the nose. The first to enter the solar is, surprisingly enough, his younger daughter Arya who poked her head into the room.

"Arya, glad to have you here quickly," Ned said, a small smile in his lips. "Are you hiding from someone? Maester Luwin, perhaps?"

"Got bored playin' an' Old Nan checkin' up on Hodor," Arya said, slightly abashed. "Tat a letter from Nuncle Benjen?"

"That it is," Ned replied, inwardly a little alarmed that his daughter can discern bits of his earlier conversation. "But let's wait for your mother, brothers, and sister for the reveal."

"Aight," Arya said as she took a seat across the desk from her father, the effort a little ungainly as the chair was made for adults in mind.

After a few minutes, other members of the family filed in. Sansa gave Arya an exasperated glare, one Arya returned with a smug smile. Jon Snow was the last to enter, and it was plain to see that the lad avoided Catelyn Stark's field of vision. Luwin then closed the door and stood a little ways to the side, ready to share his learned wisdon should it be needed.

"Arya, what is the house words of House Stark?" Ned opened the family meeting.

"Winter 's comin' father," Arya said glibly.

"Excellent," Ned replied, his gaze hardening as he presented the two letters to the table. "Cat, read this one. Children, read this one. That includes you, Jon."

"This…" Catelyn Stark finally said after heartbeats that stretched into infinity, her tone incredulous. The children reacted in various shades of understanding, from Robb's almost full comprehension and horror, to Arya's confusion. "This can't be real…"

"Unfortunately my lady, it is the truth. Both Lord-Commander Mormont and Benjen has stated the same thing and both are trustworthy, honorable men," Ned said in a grave tone, swapping the letter around. "Winter is coming, my lady, and it's on The North's doorstep now."

"What do you intend to do, my lord?" Luwin asked.

"I will call a meeting of Northern lords. We must unite against this ancient enemy," Ned answered the question. "I also need you to request aid from the Riverlands, Cat. Write to your father, see if they can spare extra shipments of grain for us."

"Very well, husband," Catelyn said, a little pale. "I shall write immediately."

"How about the king, milord?" Luwin asked.

"We… The North alone will try and resolve this matter for now," Ned said, as if swallowing a bitter pill. "The southron will demand proof, at least… the sooner we can procure one the better, but as things are we stand alone for the moment."

"Very well milord, I shall draft letters for the lords of The North, and one letter for the king," Luwin said, nodding.

"Children, the next days will be trying and I will need you to be on your best behavior," Ned said, gazing briefly into the eyes of each child present in the room. "Do you understand?"

"Yes Father," all of them replied as one, save for Jon who omitted the 'father' bit.

"Winter is coming," Ned said solemnly, bringing the meeting to an end.

"Winter is coming," the children replied as one.

Thus, The North prepares.

…

They say flying is freedom. That The Seven-that-is-One blessed the birds with the greatest freedom of all living things, the freedom to ply the skies. Filthy liars, every single one of them, Brynden Rivers thought. Flying is the art of trying not to fall and cause grievous damage to one's body. It is a very complicated process and often result in falling, injuries, and death anyway.

Which is what was happening now, even though Brynden know full well that this is a dream he has walked into.

Dreamscapes are fickle things. Once Brynden came across a gate guarded by a four-legged eagle, a dragon, and a griffon, then another raven talked him down from trying to gain passage. Once he saw what can only be described as a maze of blocky steel, ripped apart by a man in leathers with a stringless crossbow no larger than a shortsword. Tonight however, he finds himself in a… boundary of sorts. The side he came from was dark as pitch, while ahead lay almost blinding whiteness.

"Who are you, pray tell, to be able to try and tap into the Joint Tactical Network?"

Thus Brynden looked, and what he saw defied the queerness of his first green-dream after ingesting weirwood seed paste. There stood a knight… of sorts. The helm was made of a glass half-dome that shone and glint yellow like gold, while the all-covering gambeson seemed like ten layers too thick and the boots are made of a similar material. The knight sat on a steel chair, elegant and tasteful with legs and back that flow together as if made with molten metal that was poured like water and then cooled instantly. The voice, however, is distinctly female.

"Forgive my trespass… the currents of the dreaming are unpredictable," Brynden replied to the question.

"Interesting," the figure said, the tone vaguely amused. "Then who might you be?"

"The Three-Eyed Raven," Brynden said simply.

"I see," the figure said. "Might I refer you as Raven, then?"

"You may," Brynden replied.

"Well then, mister Raven… have a seat. Or a perch," the queer knight said, the notes of a giggle lingering in her tone as she gestured to a chair across the table from her. "Might I interest you with a game of igo? Over tea, perhaps?"

"This is… quite a first for me," Brynden said. "But I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, my lady."

"I am Miraldi Codexad," the bubble-headed knight said as she lifted the visor of the helmet for the first time. "You may call me Mira."

A/N:

Asha no. Bad Asha. That idiot ball is not a toy Asha.
This chapter is much like an earlier one, with smaller sections devoted to different people on different parts of the world. That said, my twice-a-month schedule seemed to work for now, so expect the next update around the fifteen next month.