The Dragon and the Hawke 55

The Seige of the Dreadfort had been a long affair. What was thought to be a week or two long seige at most turned into months, and nearly a year by the time Marian was sent to intervene. Originally, it had been Stannis and his forces against Roose Bolton and the Lord's own. Time and circumstances intervened, though, and soon both sides received reinforcements.

Stannis was joined after a month at siege by the majority of the Northern forces, what was left of them. After the war in the South and the aftermath of the Red Wedding, the men of the North had been scattered and broken. Only two years of peace had managed to bring most of the men home, and they were not quick to rejoin the fighting. They needed to deal with the harvest, along with the coming Winter, before they thought of fighting again. What joined Stannis were the men who felt, in their hearts, that the House of Bolton needed to be extinguished.

One of the armies that came to aid Stannis, were the Karstarks. When the representative of their family had met with the King, he had explained that they wished to return some of the honor lost when they betrayed Robb Stark at the Twins. Naturally, it was a ruse to get the Karstark forces through the lines of the Baratheon army.

When night fell three days after they had joined, the Karstarks turned coat, murdering any man they could reach before retreating into the Dreadfort. This attack had damaged the besieging army's moral, and there was a lull in the attack against the castle. It did not last long, though, merely a week before the men were witness to yet another horror that the Boltons were willing to commit.

Over the course of the fighting, there had been several successful infiltrations into the keep, but none of the men sent in were heard from again. It was assumed that they had been captured or killed before they could open the gates or do any other damage. At the dawn of the eighth month of sieging, the army learnt what had really happened to their men.

Bones were catapulted over the walls of the Dreadfort, a gift from the Boltons. Panic nearly spread through the Baratheon men when it was discovered that they were being pelted with human bones, chewed ones at that. It was even worse when the bites were seen to not have come from hounds, as it was said Ramsay Bolton favored them, but from the teeth of men.

The Boltons had cannibalized their prisoners.

Order was kept, but it was to this atmosphere of fear and near panic that Marian arrived at the dying of the daylight on a bitterly cold day. She had taken a horse, something she hadn't done since she, Dany, and the rest had traveled the Maw back when it was Slaver's Bay. She rode within a mile of the Baratheon Camp before the call of "Halt!" was given.

She brought her horse to a stop, and turned to the man who had made the call. He was a young lad, clearly put on patrol as shit detail. He was walking towards her, a crossbow aimed at the ground rather than her, "Identify yourself."

"Marian Hawke," She tells him, and pretends not to notice the very obvious shift in his demeanor when she says it, "Here to assist King Stannis in the siege."

"Yes M'lady," The young man bows his head, "Right this way."

Marian kicks her horse, and as it starts to meander after the boy she has to wonder exactly how well known her face must be. It seemed to be the way of things, because no matter who she talked to in this world or her last one, people recognized her no matter what she did to try and hide her identity. It had gotten to the point, back home, that the only way a quest she was on could be considered stealthy, was if she was acting as the distraction. People knew her, her face, her mannerisms, and her attitude before they ever met her.

It takes five minutes to reach Stannis's tent, moving at the boy's pace. He takes the riens as she climbs off and walks the steed away while she pushes the flap up. Four eyes turn to her, and it is Stannis who speaks, "Lady Hawke, to what do we owe this visit?"

"Dany heard that you were having trouble with the Boltons," Marian explains, stepping inside, "I volunteered to help."

The stoic King nods his head in acceptance, then turns his head back to the map sitting atop a table before him, "We could use the help. Since our last meeting, I've learnt of your conquest of Meereen, could you do the same here?"

"Of course," Marian nods, and steps up to the map, looking it over, "Though I think you might want me to do something else, the gate to the fort is the drawbridge, taking it out would destroy your entrance."

"What d'you recommend?" Davos Seaworth asks.

"I could drag the bridge down," She offers, "That would get it open, not to mention seeing a pair of giant ghost hands tearing something that big from its chains would really fuck with them."

"Yes, and after everything, they deserve some of the fear," Davos nods, his eyes narrowed and his head bowed as he thought of the present from not so long ago.

"You know, I keep hearing horror stories about these people," Marian notes, turning to Selyse Baratheon, she asks, "Why the hell did nobody deal with them before now?"

"The Starks are a merciful House," Selyse notes, her frown clearly telling all that she would not have been anything close to merciful with the Boltons.

Marian nods, then smirks, "Not anymore, I think."

"Rightly so," Stannis nods, then he looks up, "We attack at dawn, I want my men rested. I will arrange for a tent to be made available."

"Much appreciated," Marian smiles.

Stannis calls for one of his men, and then orders that she be given access to a free tent. There were more than a few free, as the cold had forced the men to forgo space in favor of heat. When she is shown into a tent, she smiles at her escort and waves him off, telling him that she can manage for herself. The guard nods, backing out of the tent, leaving her alone. The first thing she does is cast a fireball at the unlit torch barrel, which lights up immediately.

Then she spins and with a splayed hand immobilizes the shadow that had been creeping towards her in the dark.

There is a startled gasp as the unknown person is lifted into the air. He drags at invisible bindings around his arms as he is dragged into the light, though after a second in it Marian realizes that it is in fact a girl. The girl, who couldn't be more than sixteen, kicks wildly at Marian as she is hovered in front of the mage.

"Alright, enough, seriously," Marian tells the girl after a minute of fruitless kicking, "You know you can't break free. Stop trying."

The girl just kicks all the harder, dragging with all her might at binds that did not even exist, but kept her in place regardless. She growls, grunts, and spits at Marian while doing it, until eventually the mage just grows tired of watching the display and drops her.

A startled cry and a pained yelp follow as the girl falls flat on her ass, glaring up at Marian. The Storm God just raises an eyebrow at the intruder, "You don't get to be mad, kid, you're the one who snuck in here."

The girl doesn't say anything, just glaring. After a minute of neither saying anything more, the girl finally breaks and asks, "Is Bran Stark really alive?"

Marian blinks, then nods, "Yeah, he's in Winterfell right now getting an obscene amount of love showered on him from his sister."

"Sansa's in Winterfell?" the girl demands.

"Yeah, she's helping her husband and Bran run it," Marian nods.

"The Lannisters got their hands on her again!?" the girl jumps up.

"Ah, no," Marian shakes her head, and tilts it when the girl stops short of rushing out of the tent, "Tyrion and me saved her from the Boltons a while back. They got together for real a few months ago."

"You saved my sister from the Boltons?" the girl narrows her eyes.

"Your sister?" Marian asks, then blinks and asks, "Wait, you're Arya Stark?"

"I am," the girl confesses, realizing she had spilled the beans in her questions and seeing no reason to hide the fact now.

"Huh, great, I was gonna look for you once everything settled down, but now I don't have to… yay," Marian smiles, realizing that she doesn't have to do more work.

The girl, now known to be Arya, raises an eyebrow, "I'm glad to have saved you the effort."

"Ha," Marian flops down in one of the available chairs, "So, what's happened with you? I bet the story's compelling as all hell."

Arya turns her head and slinks over to another chair, settling in it slowly, "I'm sure it's not as interesting as yours."

Marian smirks, "Oh, kid, you don't know the half of it!"

"Care to share, then?" Arya challenges.

"Alright," Marian, clapping her hands together and when she splays them, a panorama springs into existence in the air, and starts to show the dramatic tale of her life, "My friend Varic would have been able to tell the story so much better than me. But! I'll try anyway…"

And so she begins her tale, forgetting that she should probably have pressed to get answers from the Stark girl, "it all started in another world, one where magic is a lot more present than around here…"