This will be my Monday update, it's early if you're in America but I'm busy tomorrow so I thought it best to upload this now (Midnight time in the UK). So here we are with episode 4.

The description of Highbrook Tower is purely my imagination, as no information exists in regards to the seat of House Ryswell.

This is also one of my longest chapters yet with 4,900 words, and if I'd included the Osha scene and the Daenerys scene like I wanted to originally then it would have gone way over 6000 words. Considering nothing was going to change in regards to both of those scenes I thought I'd leave them out.

I still own nothing but Torrhen, everything else is more than welcome to fall into my ownership, but that's very unlikely.


The Stark Loyalist army arrived at Highbrook Tower to find an army camped outside it already. On closer inspection it seemed to be one made up of House Ryswell's vassals. Torrhen spotted the banners of the Houses Ryswell, Condon, Mazin and Fisher were camped outside the castle.

"How many would you say?" Torrhen asked Asher.

"Around 4,000 altogether maybe."

"Do they realise we have over double that?" Torrhen grinned. "They should have holed up in the castle."

"Would you?" Asher raised an eyebrow.

"I guess not." Torrhen laughed. "Let's get this parlay over with."

Torrhen, Asher, Cregan Glenmore and 5 Northern guards rode down towards the camp, stopping a few hundred yards away from the Ryswell camp. They were later joined by the same number from the other side, as Rodrick Ryswell, his son Roger, and a number of Ryswell men joined them.

"Cregan Glenmore? You traitor." Roger Ryswell snarled.

"The only traitors here are the ones that bent the knee to a murderous cunt like Ramsay Snow." Cregan bit back.

"Ramsay Bolton." Rodrick Ryswell corrected.

"I don't recall legitimising him." Torrhen stated. "I'll make this simple, Lord Ryswell. Dismount your horse and bend the knee before me. Apologise properly for betraying my brother and turning your cloak and I will let you and your family live. Refuse, and you and your entire house will perish."

"You murdered my daughter Stark." Rodrick growled, before spitting on the floor. "That and my blade is all you will get from me."

"Very well. I will give you an hour, My Lord. If you change your mind you know where we are." Torrhen said, turning on his horse and riding back to where his army was stood in formation. Asher caught him up quickly.

"You're giving him an hour?"

"Fuck no, we attack now." Torrhen grinned, grabbing his bow and arrows from his horses back before dismounting. He turned to face his army. "MEN OF THE NORTH! TODAY WE CRIPPLE THE BOLTON HOLD ON THE NORTH! WE TAKE NO PRISONERS, WE SHOW NO MERCY! THESE ARE MEN THAT TURNED ON YOUR FATHERS, ON YOUR BROTHERS, ON YOUR KING! LET'S BRING THE FUCKING CASTLE TO THE GROUND!" He roared, and turned to face the Ryswell camp as his men cheered. "ARCHERS, WITH ME!"

1,200 archers came to the front of the formation, with Cregan Glenmore leading them. "We are yours, My King." Cregan stated.

"I want you to fire upon the camp until every arrow has been loosed. You go no further than where we parlayed." Torrhen ordered. "If I wasn't King I'd join you, but I must lead the assault. Cregan Glenmore, you have command." Torrhen said, handing Cregan his bow and arrows.

"Your Grace." Cregan bowed, before shouting orders at the archers who began to move forwards.

"Asher! You have the foot. You know what to do." Torrhen told the Forrester, who grinned in response. Torrhen then mounted his horse again and spoke to the men remaining. "FOR THE NORTH!"

"THE KING IN THE NORTH! THE KING IN THE NORTH!" Was the cry from the mounted soldiers, and Torrhen grinned, unsheathing Winter's Bite and moving forwards, Ser Wylis Manderly to his right, and 3,000 horses behind him.

They could already hear the screams of dying men even from hundreds of yards away. The Glenmore archers weren't famed for no reason, as the sky darkened, with the sheer amount of arrows being loosed overcame the sun. Torrhen waited a few moments until it seemed the arrow fire was slowing down before holding his sword up in the air. The last few arrows were let loose, and Torrhen roared, charging forwards.

They thundered forward, crushing those who remained alive with the horses. Lord Ryswell had organised them well, but they had still lost almost half of the men to arrows. Fighting broke out in the camp, as Torrhen's forces rode around, hacking at any Ryswell defender they could find. Torrhen must have killed 6 people before an arrow took his horse in the eye. Leaping from the beast as it fell, he rolled sideways, keeping his sword in his hand as he did so, before standing and rushing at the archer who killed his horse. He was quick, and slashed at the bow before the man could nock another arrow, before bringing his sword back around and opening his stomach.

Asher and the foot, and Cregan with the archers had also arrived in the camp now, and the quick fire attack seemed to have worked. With his men killing the last of the Ryswell forces. One more man decided it was wise to rush at Torrhen, but Winter's Bite soon saw him no longer remain in one piece. Torrhen made his way into the centre of the camp, where Rodrick Ryswell lay in his command tent, three arrows protruding out of his body. Roger Ryswell was also there, somehow still alive with an arrow in his neck. Torrhen walked over to him, but didn't wait for the dying man to say a word before he took Roger's head off of his body.

"Your Grace." Cregan Glenmore's voice came from behind him. "The battle is won but Roose Ryswell has fled into the castle walls."

"Very good." Torrhen grinned, beheading the dead Lord Ryswell too. "Tell the men to cut off the head of every Ryswell man, and bring the catapults. The new Lord Ryswell deserves a present."


Jon felt like he could finally breathe easier. Thorne, Olly and the traitors were dead by his hand, and he was ready to leave the wall behind him. Edd was there with him as Jon was getting changed into old Stark armour that had been left behind by his Uncle Benjen when he had joined the Watch. Edd picked up Longclaw and walked over to the busy Jon.

"Where you gonna go?" Edd asked.

"South." Was Jon's response.

"What are you gonna do?"

"Get warm." Jon joked, but Edd wasn't laughing. He slammed Longclaw down onto the table.

"I was with you at Hardhome. We saw what's out there, we know it's coming here. How can you leave us now?" Edd spat.

"I did everything I could, you know that."

"You swore a vow!" Edd exclaimed.

"Aye, I pledged my life to the Night's Watch, I gave my life." Jon bit back.

"For all nights to come!"

"They killed me, Edd!" Jon shouted. "My own brothers. You want me to stay here after that?" They were interrupted by a single horn blast, and they went outside to see what was happening. As Jon walked outside his heart seemingly skipped a beat, as for the first time since Benjen had gone beyond the wall he saw a member of his family. Sansa was there in the courtyard of Castle Black, looking around for him. Finally, their eyes met and Jon took a step back as he saw it was undeniably her. He walked down the steps into the courtyard and walked towards her, stopping a few paces in front of his sister. They stared into each other's eyes, drinking in the fact that they were together again before crashing together in a fierce embrace, not wanting to let go of the other in case they were taken from them.

Jon led Sansa to his former chambers, and got some soup brought for her. He sat with her as she drank from the bowl. "This is good soup." She said after tasting. "Do you remember those kidney pies Old Nan used to make?"

"With the peas and onions?" Jon asked, smiling.

"Mmm."

"We never should have left Winterfell." Jon said morbidly.

"Don't you wish we could go back to the day we left?" Sansa asked. "I want to scream at myself, 'don't go, you idiot.'"

"How could we know?"

"I spent a lot of time thinking about what an ass I was to you." Sansa admitted, and Jon looked nervously at his feet. "I wish I could change everything."

"We were children." Jon waved it off.

"I was awful, just admit it." Sansa pushed, bringing a laugh from Jon.

"You were occasionally awful." Jon grinned. "I'm sure I can't have been great fun, always sulking in the corner while the rest of you played."

"Can you forgive me?" Sansa asked.

"There's nothing to forgive."

"Forgive me." Sansa pushed, grinning.

"All right. All right, I forgive you." Jon laughed. Sansa then surprised him, reaching out for the ale in his hands. After she refused to back down at his look he relented and handed her the mug, watching her take a swig and cough at the foulness of it. Jon laughed.

"You'd think after thousands of years, the Night's Watch would have learned how to make a good ale." He joked. Sansa looked up at him questioningly, before asking.

"Where will you go?"

"Where will we go?" Jon corrected her. "If I don't watch over you, Father's ghost will come back and murder me."

Sansa laughed. "Where will we go?"

"South I presume." Jon told her. "I can't stay here, not after what happened."

"There's only one place we can go." Sansa told him. "Home."

"Should we tell the Boltons to pack up and leave?"

"We'll take it back from them." Sansa said strongly.

"I don't have an army." Jon said.

"Tor does." Sansa countered.

"Do you know where he is? If he's still alive?" Jon asked her.

"He's alive." Sansa said. "I'd feel it if he died, I'm sure I would."

"Even so, we don't know where he is."

"His army is at Moat Cailin." Sansa told him.

"To get to Moat Cailin we have to go past either Winterfell or the Dreadfort, we can't go there without an army, you know that." Jon said sadly.

"How many wildlings did you save?" Sansa asked.

"They didn't come here to serve me." Jon told her.

"They owe you their lives!" Sansa raised her voice, standing. "You think they'll be safe here if Roose Bolton remains Warden of the North?"

"Sansa…"

"Winterfell is our home." She said fiercely. "It's ours, and Tor's and Arya's and Bran's and Rickon's, wherever they are, it belongs to our family. We have to fight for it."

"I'm tired of fighting. It's all I've done since I left home!" Jon said just as fiercely. "I've killed brothers of the Night's Watch, I've killed wildlings, I've killed men that I admire, I hanged a boy younger than Bran. I fought and I lost."

"If we don't take back the North, we'll never be safe." Sansa tried to persuade him. "I want you to help me. But I'll do it myself if I have to." She told him.


As hard as he tried, Lord Royce just couldn't seem to get his Lord to improve in any martial skill. Robin Arryn was currently attempting archery, but just couldn't get the hang of it, and his latest attempt joined the others on the floor before the target. Robin looked over at Lord Royce smiling bashfully, and Lord Royce smiled back, secretly wishing that Lord Arryn had been able to conceive a son with any of his first two wives. He would never admit it out loud but even a bastard could possibly have been better, although he knew Jon Arryn would never stoop to that. A carriage pulled up to the yard, and out stepped Petyr Baelish.

"The Defender of the Vale!" Baelish exclaimed.

"Uncle Petyr!" Robin shouted, throwing down his bow and rushing to Baelish, hugging the man fiercely.

"My lord." Baelish said. "Come and see. I missed your name day. Go on." He said, gesturing to a cage covered in blue fabric. Robin pulled the fabric off and was delighted to see it's contents.

"A falcon!"

"A gyrfalcon. The greatest and rarest of birds." Baelish explained.

"Last time I saw you, Baelish, you told me you were taking Sansa Stark home with you to the Fingers." Lord Royce said, almost accusingly.

"Indeed I was."

"And yet not long ago, we received reports that she has been married to Ramsay Bolton in Winterfell."

"On our way to the Fingers, we were set upon by a large force of Bolton men." Baelish told him. "Seemed to know exactly when we were traveling and exactly whom we were transporting."

"Do you take me for a fool?" Royce scoffed.

"Tell me, Lord Royce, how many people knew of my travel plans with Sansa Stark? I shared my intentions with you and no one else." Baelish said accusingly.

"Slander a man in his own home, you might find yourself crossing swords with him." Lord Royce warned.

"Your home is the Vale. The Lord of the Vale stands before us. And only his judgment concerns me." Baelish said. Things grew tense at that, as Baelish's guards and Lord Royce's guards all placed their hands on their swords. Lord Royce looked towards Robin.

"Shall we throw him through the Moon Door?" Robin asked gleefully, as the guards stepped closer towards Lord Royce.

"My lord." The Bronze Yohn protested. "My lord, I have always been faithful to House Arryn, to your father, to your mother, and now to you."

"Do you believe him, Uncle Petyr?" Robin asked Baelish, not taking too much of his attention away from the falcon.

"Lord Royce has served the Vale well. He's enjoyed a distinguished military career, if we could trust his absolute loyalty, he would make a capable commander in the wars to come." Baelish said to his stepson.

"You can trust my absolute loyalty, my lord." Lord Royce proclaimed.

"I think he deserves one more chance, what do you say?" Baelish said.

Robin thought for a moment, before shrugging. "Fine." Lord Royce bowed towards Robin and walked off.

"I bring good news." Baelish told Robin. "My friends in the North tell me Sansa has escaped Winterfell, I expect she's headed to Castle Black where her brother serves as Lord Commander. But she won't be safe there, not with the Boltons after her."

"She's my cousin." Robin said, thinking. "We should help her."

"That was my instinct as well." Baelish agreed, before turning to Lord Royce again. "Our lord has spoken. Gather the Knights of the Vale, the time has come to join the fray."


"Open the gate!" The call came, and in rode a Bolton man flying a white flag. Jon and Sansa were eating in the mess hall with Tormund, Brienne and Edd as this was happening, with Tormund eying up Brienne and Sansa barely touching the food she had been given.

"Sorry about the food. It's not what we're known for." Edd told her.

"That's all right, there are more important things." Sansa replied kindly. A moment later the door opened, and in came a brother of the Watch.

"A letter for you, Lord Commander." He said, handing out a rolled up letter towards Jon.

"I'm not Lord Commander anymore." Jon told him, but took the letter anyway, horrified when he saw the seal of House Bolton. He unhappily ripped the seal open and unrolled the message, reading it out to the table. "'To the traitor and bastard Jon Snow. You allowed thousands of wildlings past the Wall. You have betrayed your own kind. You have betrayed the North. Winterfell is mine, bastard. Come and see. Your brother Rickon is in my dungeon.'" He faltered, looking at Sansa who was equally as worried. "His direwolf's skin is on my floor. Come and see. I want my bride back. Send her to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you or your wildling lovers. Keep her from me and I will ride north and slaughter every wildling man, woman, and babe living under your protection. You will watch as I skin them living. You…'" Jon stopped again as he read the next line.

"Go on." Sansa said.

"It's just more of the same." Jon waved off, rolling up the letter again. Sansa snatched it from his hands and read the rest.

"'You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping your sister. You will watch as my dogs devour your wild little brother. Then I will spoon your eyes from their sockets and let my dogs do the rest. Come and see. Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.'" She read.

"Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North?" Jon asked her.

"His father's dead. Ramsay killed him." Sansa surmised, of all she knew of him she figured he would definitely kill his own father for power. "And now he has Rickon."

"We don't know that." Jon argued.

"Yes, we do." Sansa bit back.

"How many men does he have in his army?" Tormund asked Sansa.

"I heard him say 5,000 once when he was talking about Stannis's attack." Was her response.

"How many do you have?" Jon asked the wildling.

"That can march and fight? 2,000." Was the answer. "The rest are children and old people."

"How many were at Moat Cailin when you were there?" Sansa asked Brienne.

"Not many more than 2,000 My Lady." Brienne responded. "2,500 at the most. They said your brother had 5,000 with him."

"If he's back…" Jon began.

"We don't know for sure." Tormund told him.

"Even if Torrhen isn't back we can't leave Rickon!" Sansa exclaimed. Taking Jon's hand she pleaded with him. "You're the son of the last true Warden of the North, northern families are loyal. They'll fight for you if you ask." When he still looked unsure she tried more forcefully. "A monster has taken our home and our brother! We have to go back to Winterfell and save them both."


Highbrook Tower was a basic Northern stone castle, but with a larger tower protruding out of the centre. Torrhen stood outside the gates as his men finished preparations for the siege, staring up at the tower.

"That is where the Lord's chambers are." Cregan Glenmore told him. "My father has visited here many times."

"Then that is where Roose Ryswell will be now." Torrhen guessed. "Have one of the catapults aim for that tower, I know where to send the heads of his family.

"Your Grace." Cregan nodded, before seeing it done. Torrhen walked back to the tent that had been set up for him, and wrote a note out for the new Lord Ryswell.

Your Father is dead, your brother is dead. Surrender the castle and I will let you live. Try and hold out and you will be the reason your House dies out. Torrhen Stark, King in the North.

He then got a small knife, held the letter to the eye of Rodrick Ryswell and stabbed it, pinning the letter to the decapitated head of Lord Ryswell's father. He took both heads to the catapult that Cregan was stood at.

"This one is aimed at the tower, Your Grace."

"Good, send them Roger first, and then Rodrick." Torrhen said, throwing the two heads on the floor.

"My King, forgive me for asking this but don't you think it's a bit…"

"Cruel? Aye it's cruel." Torrhen stated. "So is flaying a man living, and organising a rebellion at a wedding, slaughtering innocents."

"I'm not doubting you Torrhen, I just think…"

"Think quietly, these people betrayed my brother. They will all perish." Torrhen spat. "The North remembers, Cregan. See to it that that they get the message." And with that he walked back towards his tent.

He ended up falling asleep, Balerion sharing the bed with him after Torrhen had told him not to join him in battle. And he was woken up a few hours later by somebody announcing themselves.

"My King, Lord Mazin is here under a flag of truce."

"Send him in." Torrhen said grumpily. He woke himself up properly and went to sit at his desk, as Lord Rickwyle Mazin entered the tent. "Lord Mazin, you still live."

"After saw Cregan Glenmore at your parlay I realised what I was doing was wrong. Forgive me, I was only answering the summons of my liege lord." Lord Mazin said, bowing his head in shame.

"I understand that, Lord Mazin." Torrhen told him. "But if Lord Glenmore, a man weakened and ill, can stand defiantly in the face of treachery, why can't you?"

"I beg your forgiveness." Lord Mazin said, falling to both knees. "I realised what a foolish man I am, I pulled my men back into the castle, we did not fight in the battle."

"I'm not a forgiving man, Lord Mazin." Torrhen said, walking around the desk to stand tall in front of the kneeling Lord. "House Dustin turned traitor, and now there is no more House Dustin. House Ryswell turned traitor, and soon there will be no House Ryswell. Why should I pardon you?"

Lord Mazin stood gingerly. "I brought you something." He reached into a sack that he had brought with him, and pulled out the head of Roose Ryswell. "As soon as he received your, message, Roose Ryswell was going to stand defiantly. I removed him of his head as a show of my loyalty."

"He was a boy of 15." Torrhen said, raising an eyebrow. "You killed him yourself."

"Aye, I did, My King." Lord Mazin said, kneeling on one knee. "In pledge my sword, and the swords of my House to you."

Torrhen considered him for a moment. "Rise, Lord Mazin." The man did so. "I will not take your head, for you have done me a great service here today, but I hope you understand that I cannot blindly trust you."

"Of course." Lord Mazin said nervously.

"How many men do you have remaining?"

"163, Your Grace."

"They will join my ranks. When I take Winterfell your youngest son will be my ward, and your daughter will go to Rillwater Crossing as a hostage."

"Your Grace, I…"

"This is non-negotiable, My Lord." Torrhen snapped.

"Of… of course." Lord Mazin bowed. "I accept those terms."

"Good, gather your men and find Asher Forrester, he will find a place for them." Torrhen said. Lord Mazin bowed once more and left, leaving Torrhen to contemplate his next move with a few more troops.


The mist was blocking the view of everything further than a few metres out at sea as Theon approached Pyke, but in the near distance Theon still rejoiced at the sight of his father's castle. His experiences in the Iron Islands had hardened him that's for sure, but he had always longed for home, and now he was back. They docked in Lordsport, and were welcomed by a host of men led by Lord Sawane Botley, the Lord of the town. Theon stroked his beard before gathering the men on his ship and meeting them on the docks.

"Who would dock in Lordsport!" Lord Botley called, looking nervously behind Theon at the 49 other galleys that Theon had amassed.

"Theon Greyjoy, rightful heir to the Iron Islands!" Theon shouted back.

"The Kingsmoot will decide that." A voice came from behind Lord Botley, and Theon's uncle Aeron Greyjoy, known now as the Damphair. "Welcome back Theon."

"Uncle." Theon responded gruffly.

"We have much to discuss, walk with me." Damphair requested and began to walk up to the castle of Pyke. Theon looked at his first mate telling him to sort the men out and followed his uncle, striding past Lord Botley as if he was just a commoner.

"I don't appreciate being commanded by you." Theon sneered.

"I do not command, that role fell to your father." Aeron said. Theon looked over at him confused.

"Fell?"

"He died a fortnight ago, he was weak in his old age and fell off of the bridge." Aeron let out a gruff laugh. "Serves him right, rebelling twice was foolish, we were lucky this time that nobody cares about us."

"That will change when I am king." Theon said.

"If. You haven't won the Kingsmoot and there are those who will challenge you." Aeron snapped. "You forget you've hardly set foot on Pyke in over a decade, why should the men follow you?"

Theon grabbed his uncle by the neck, and snarled. "I was thrown on the edge of the world with nothing but the clothes on my back. I now have 50 ships loyal to me. If I could manage that while people pretended I wasn't a Greyjoy, they will follow me now."

"Perhaps." The Damphair admitted, not phased at being manhandled like he was. "Or perhaps they will see you for what you were, a traitor." The Damphair shoved Theon, being careful to make sure Theon felt the two T's branded onto his chest by Torrhen Stark.

"I have never betrayed the Ironborn." Theon said, squeezing slightly on his uncles neck, before roughly throwing him on the floor, leaving him to cough.

"There are some who say shedding blood for Greenlanders is a betrayal. All I know is that there will be a Kingsmoot next week, you're welcome to attend, but you won't be alone." Aeron said as they arrived at the gates of Pyke.

"Who else is there to challenge me." Theon laughed, but the Damphair just gestured for Theon to enter the castle. He made his way through to the chamber that held the Seastone Chair, and noticed there was somebody sat in it, staring at the fire.

"Who the fuck are you, sitting in my chair." Theon snarled. The figure stood up, facing away from Theon. "I'm talking to you!"

The man turned round, and Theon was shocked. In front of him stood his other uncle, Euron Greyjoy. "Hello Nephew."


So we have ruthless Torrhen destroying yet another family, Sansa and Jon are reunited and Theon is back on Pyke! The Vale are getting ready too, it's all shaping up.

I'm interested to see what you think of Theon in this story, please leave me a review letting me know? I quite like him, he needed a spine and the two years he spent trying to get home helped a lot with that.

I decided to be cheeky and add in that inner thought paragraph of Lord Royce, the mentioning of a bastard of course, is a link to Roland Stone in my new story 'As High as Honour'.

In regards to Lord Mazin, he's a character introduced by the show, so no true information exists on him. I'm saying he has three children, a daughter, aged 16, and two sons, aged 14 and 10. The youngest son will go to Winterfell and the daughter is off to Rillwater Crossing and House Glenmore.

Next chapter: Torrhen finds out where his twin is.

Reviews:

C.E.W: The boy is definitely Rickon, Smalljon is just playing the field a bit.

Brandon of House Stark: It does, I hope you liked Torrhen in this chapter too.

Guest (52): Robb's failure certainly taught Torrhen a lesson, and while Torrhen knows that Robb wasn't a good king at all, he will defend him constantly as he was his brother. In regards to the dragon egg, he isn't a Valyrian, so while he has magic of a sort in his blood it isn't the right kind in regards to being a dragon rider.

Fantasymaker76: They're loyal for as long as it suits them.

Lightningscar: House Glenmore are the ones mentioned in chapters 33 and 34, Rodrik's betrothed Elaena and her brother, Arthur, who was flayed alive by Ramsay. The thing about explaining all the trivial things like that in the story is it takes too much away, and this becomes more of an encyclopaedia. I'll change the dialogue! Downside of scripts that. In regards to the seat of House Ryswell the only mention I can find of a name is on CK2, so I used that. The description like I said at the beginning of the chapter is entirely my own.