Westeros: Shadow Beyond the Wall

The blood of kings holds a great power within. The Others know this. They did not know just what power Jon Snow's held when it was spilt by his own brothers, accomplishing through blind idiocy what they had failed to do for so long. Winter is coming, carrying death with it.

I do not own Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire. Nor do I own the Middle-Earth video game series or Lord of the Rings.

I'm adding this little bit in for my own convenience: an approximate account of the military forces of the North.

Total Strength: According to a semi-canon source the North can field about 45 000 troops, matched by the Vale, Riverlands and Dorne. The geographical size and low population density of the North makes it difficult to summon this full host. As the nature of a medieval styled era makes a national census impossible I will say for this setting that the North may summon at absolute full strength of 45 000 (Effective Military Strength) to 50 000 (Total Military Strength from scraping the bottom of every last proverbial barrel) to account for any inconsistencies between this and canon.

Expended Strength: At the start of the War of Five Kings, Robb Stark departed from Winterfell with approximately 12 000 men and was joined by another 6000 by the time they reached Moat Cailin where 1500 Manderly fighters join them, bringing the army's numbers to just under 20 000. Of this host, one in five Northmen were estimated to have returned to the North, most of them Bolton men. Therefore the North has lost about 16 000 men, just over one third of their effective military strength and been left with between 29 000 (Effective Military Strength) and 34 000 (Total Military Strength)

Remaining Strength: Of the approximate 29 000 or more Northmen that can be readily conscripted into service, I've divided their numbers among the following Houses. These won't be exact, just estimations based on sources from the books and internet as well as my own intuition based on the strength of greater houses such as House Frey, Bolton, etc. I make no claims of being knowledgable in these matters and am only typing this to firmly establish the overall power of the various factions in the North.

The Bolton Coalition: Projected strength of 13 400-16 500.

House Bolton and its Bannermen: 4000-4500, most of them heavy infantry and bowmen. House Bolton's levies made up the majority of the Northmen who returned from the Riverlands, and still had a considerable presence in the North commanded by Ramsay Snow until his father's return, indicating Roose Bolton may have withheld a good portion of his levies.

House Dustin and its Bannermen: 3000-3500, most of them light infantry supported by heavy cavalry. The majority of House Dustin's levies were held back during the war.

House Ryswell and its Bannermen: 2000-2500, most of them infantry supported by light cavalry. The majority of House Ryswell's levies were held back during the war.

House Karstark and its Bannermen: 1500-2000. The Karstarks donated three hundred horsemen and almost two thousand infantry for the War of Five Kings, and would have taken significant casualties alongside the other houses before their host broke away following the execution of Rickard Karstark, allowing time to return home more intact than some houses but less than House Bolton. The majority of the remaining levies followed Arnolf and Cregan Karstark.

Other assorted minor houses, clans and free riders: 1500-2000.

House Frey levies led by Aenys and Hosteen Frey: 1400-2000.

In total: At least 12 000 Northmen and 1400 Rivermen make up the Bolton Army, scattered mainly between Winterfell and the Dreadfort.

House Baratheon Army: Projected strength of 19 700-22 500

Levies from the Stormlands, Reach and Crownlands: 1000-1300. Following the Battle of the Blackwater Stannis' total strength was projected at 1500 men on Dragonstone (half of them Florent soldiers) and 300 in Storm's End. He took most of his men to the Wall.

Mercenary Companies: 4000-5000. With funding from the Iron Bank, Stannis secured the service of a number of sellsword companies to augment his depleted forces. Among these are the Free Blades Of Braavos, who number around 800. Other mercenary companies have similar numbers, with none of them being greater than 1000 fighters.

The Mountain Clans: 2800-3000. Taken from the books where Jon Snow recommends the Clans to Stannis Baratheon and gives them a broad projection of three thousand warriors with some losses since then.

House Glover and its Bannermen: 1500-2000. House Glover sustained heavy casualties during the War of Five Kings, particularly under Robett Glover's command at Duskendale where 1000 Northmen were killed and many more slain in the retreat by Gregor Clegane's forces. House Forrester among other loyal houses lost further soldiers at the Red Wedding, and again after the murder of Ethan Forrester by Ramsay Bolton. Between survivors of the Northern army returning home, the remaining levies scattered across the Wolfswood and the return of House Forrester's scattered soldiers (who are included in this amount due to the Forresters status as bannermen of Deepwood Motte) House Glover is at half of its original strength at best.

House Mormont and its Bannermen: 1400-1800. I find the idea that Bear Island, which is almost one third the size of Skagos and in prime fishing territory, where women are trained to fight alongside the men, could only field sixty two soldiers to be laughable at best…and bloody stupid at worst to make the Starks' situation seem far more dire in the show (The only thing good about it by season 8 was the acting and CGI). While men still march off to war or to hunt, the women remain behind in case of Ironborn or wildling raids, meaning that Bear Island's few houses and clans still have a moderate number of troops that it can provide without leaving itself entirely vulnerable to attack. This takes into account any losses taken during the war, including Dacey Mormont and Lady Maege Mormont (location presently unknown).

House Glenmore: 500, including 30 longbowmen from the elite guard.

House Thenn: 200 Thenn warriors, 300-500 Karstark soldiers loyal to Alys Thenn.

House Umber and its Bannermen: 1000-1200. House Umber's contribution had to have made up at least a noticeable amount of the initial 12 000 to gather at Winterfell, yet GreatJon Umber would have had to leave a significant presence in his lands due to regular Wildling incursions. As a result of the war and the Red Wedding, House Umber's strength is a little over half of what it originally was. Further dividing this house's forces, almost half its remaining levies have been sent north to help reinforce the Wall.

Other assorted minor houses and free riders: 1000-1500.

The Free Folk: Somewhere between 6000 and 7000 warriors are being trained in the Gift in preparation to march south and aid in liberating the North.

In total: At least 1000 Stormlanders, 4000 Essosi sellswords and 10 000 Northmen make up the Baratheon host, presently scattered between Deepwood Motte, Karhold, Last Hearth and East-Watch-by-the-Sea. Another 6000 or more Free Folk presently at Queenscrown are expected to join them in the near future.

Neutral Houses: Projected strength of 6800-8500

House Manderly and its Bannermen: 2500-3000. White Harbour is the largest city and trade hub of the North, as well as secretly a developing naval base for a new Northern Navy. With a population of 50 000, the city guard would need to number around 1000 to both enforce order in the city and the surrounding countryside. Almost 1500 fighters including mounted knights went south, which I feel would reflect only a moderate portion of House Manderly's full host, which would need to remain large enough to protect White Harbour from attack by land or sea. Therefore I predict that they could summon at least another 1500 levies and knights to go with the city guard, but many of these fighters would be sworn to houses whose loyalty is presently at question.

Sellswords: 300-500. To help make up for the loss of so many fighters, House Manderly hired a number of sellswords to both replenish their ranks and help train new fighters and sailors for the developing fleet. However Lord Wyman made sure to hire only a select few to reduce the chance of them betraying him to any of his enemies, taking only enough needed to help ensure White Harbour's security while he replenishes is losses.

Forces of both the Flints of Flint's Finger and Widow's Watch: 2000-2500.

House Reed and its Bannermen: 1500-2000. They live in a swamp on floating castles and crannogs and are not described as being built for heavy warfare, so I can't see the Crannogmen population being able to churn out a great number of fighters but enough to patrol and defend the Neck.

House Hornwood: 500+. The Levies of House Hornwood are badly exhausted after marching south, more so after Ramsay Bolton's abduction, forced marriage and subsequent murder of Lady Hornwood. Many have fled south towards White Harbour and others towards Widow's Watch. Those who remain, while pledging loyalty to no specific monarch or cause, are opposed to the Bolton occupation of their lands and have formed the Hornwood Brotherhood with the aim of avenging the crimes inflicted upon their lands and liegelords.

In total: there are approximately 6500 Northmen and 300 of sellswords sitting on the sidelines, most of them focused around White Harbour.

Total Amount of fighters involved in the Northern Campaign (Approximate projections)

Northmen: 12 000 for the Boltons, 10 000 for the Baratheons and 6500 not yet included. (28 500)

Rivermen: 1400 Frey levies for the Boltons. (1400)

Stormlanders/Crownlanders/Reachmen: Over 1000 for the Baratheons. (1000)

Essosi: 4000 for the Baratheons, less than 300 not yet included. (4300)

Free Folk: 6000 allied with the Baratheons.

At least 42 200 fighters are involved in the Northern Campaign.

I can't remember if this is popular theory or another semi-canon source, but typically I hear that Skagos is projected to have around 3000 capable fighters to contribute. To reflect its more advanced state in this setting I'm going to give it an effective military strength of 4500 and a Total Military strength of 6000. (This being achievable if you slap a weapon into the hands of every healthy boy and girl from a bare minimum age to every man or woman going into their senior years who somehow retained their physical agency and faculties)

For Skane, given its relative size to Skagos as well as the hardships of sharing an island with Tar-Medine and his Orcs, I will say that they have an effective military strength of 1000 and a Total Military strength of 1500.

Xxx

Chapter Eighteen: Hard Truths

7th Day of the 11th Moon of 300 AC

Deepwood Motte, the North

A city of tents was spread out on the planes surrounding the wooden motte and bailey castle, banners fluttering in the northern winds carrying the symbols of houses from the North, Crownlands, Stormlands, Reach and every sellsword company in the Baratheon army. The people, once terrified into submission by Ironborn raiders and without defenders now resumed their trades with an overflow of patrons filling up every brothel, mead hall, tavern and bath house in the walled town. Other smallfolk from outlying villages and hamlets had flocked to both the perceived safety and heightened commerce brought about by the great host, ten thousand strong and rising.

Once, Maraiya had heard jests made at Stannis Baratheon's expense after his defeat at the Battle of the Blackwater. They said his aspirations had died that day along with tens of thousands of his men, with few if any outside of his forces willing to even consider his claim to the Iron Throne. As she rode among an entourage of Wull clansmen, Forrester men-at-arms and Braavosi sellswords through the forest of coloured fabrics it appeared to her that the last brother of Robert Baratheon was anything but finished.

The sights and sounds of the encampment, whilst initially awe inspiring at a distance, quickly reminded her as to the reason that Syronos had insisted on her wearing a cloak with the hood up before they'd even encountered Baratheon outriders. Women in the camp either toiled over the wounded, pots of food or in the beds of men from the lowest born commoner to the highest born lord. Tales spoke of some ending up in the third position against their will, and not always because they'd been mistaken for a whore or because the man responsible had been too drunk to tell the difference. Her father had been one of the few knights who came close to fitting the tales of chivalry and even he hadn't been shy about informing Maraiya as to the quality of life of a camp follower.

"Who approaches?" A sentry atop the wooden palisades of Deepwood Motte called.

"Captain Syronos Dirrin of the Free Blades of Braavos!" Syronos replied. "As well as Chief Hugo of Clan Wull! We return to report to King Stannis!"

He'd refrained from bellowing out her name yet. She was grateful for this small favour.

The sentry let them through with a small escort of Glover men who were to deter any in their party from detouring until their claim of Royal business had been verified. Once they'd reached the castle atop the hill and been identified positively by Lady Sybelle herself these guards were dismissed and the party welcomed with grace by none other than Stannis himself, who stepped into the courtyard with a small company of knights by his side.

"Your Grace," Syronos dismounted and offered Maraiya a hand, "allow me to introduce you to Lady Maraiya of House Bell."

Maraiya, after accepting the offered assistance, took this as her cue to pull back her hood. She came to immediately regret this when more than one of Stannis' knights began to eye her with no effort to disguise their lust. There was no way of denying that she was of fair appearance, but Maraiya expected that what truly caught their attention was the shade of her eyes and the unmistakable presence of Nightfall on her back- with so few of its like in Westeros it was easy for any learned man to recite the list of houses that possessed one.

"Your Grace." She quickly dropped to one knee to conceal her discomfort. "I cannot thank you enough for sending these men out. Had you not, I might be in Bolton hands at this very moment."

Stannis motioned with one hand for her to rise. "Stand, Lady Bell." He commanded. "I would hear what you have to say in the security of Lady Sybelle's hall."

Without a word they followed the King in and waited for the doors to be sealed by stone faced Glover men. Stannis had dismissed all but a few of his Knights, likely those forming the leadership of his host. Maraiya, tutored from a young age to recognize the many houses from Dorne to the Wall, found herself examining each of them in turn to see how many she could identify.

There was a dark haired knight who wore a symbol with three death's head moths, one white on a grey field and two more grey over white. House Horpe from the Stormlands.

Next was a man broader at the chest and shoulders with thick brown hair and a smirk as if he considered himself the one of highest importance in the room. Upon his armoured chest was the depiction of two countercharged and mounted knights facing one another. House Farring from the Crownlands.

Third was a short and balding man with a familiar gleam of cruelty in his eyes and broken-toothed smile, bearing the sigil of a winged swine that Maraiya found most appropriate for the man who wore it. House…I don't recognize him, possibly lowborn and knighted.

Standing further back behind the group as if trying to conceal himself from their notice was a knight with a mop of pale hair, a neatly trimmed beard and pleasant enough countenance, yet he appeared almost as reluctant to be present as Maraiya herself. He bore a crest of three spirals connected together. House Massey, Crownlands.

The only other among the Southern entourage who didn't make her feel akin to prized meat at the market was a grey haired knight bearing the symbol of a blue-green spiral over yellow. House Wylde. Stormlands.

There were a few other Knights and lesser Lords present, most of them Crownlanders or Stormlanders with the occasional Reachman, yet these five sat closest to Stannis as he took his place at the center of a table arranged parallel to where Maraiya stood, feeling as if she were on trial with this layout. Only the knowledge that Syronos and Chief Wull stood close at hand lent her any sense of confidence. Sybelle Glover, who seemed to detest the presence of these Knights based on the ugly looks she gave them, also came as an added comfort to remind Maraiya that she did not stand alone.

"Tell me everything you know." Stannis said without preamble.

Taken off guard by the sheer lack of…anything she'd expect from a King, Maraiya took a moment to gather herself. "I…"

"Speak up, wench!" The short swine knight barked.

"Would that you'd let her, little piglet." Syronos immediately spoke up. "Shut your jaw and don't interrupt again."

The swine knight turned red at this and began to push his chair back before Stannis stood and slammed a fist down on the table, silencing the room. He let all present stew in that silence before repeating himself, just as calmly as before. "Tell me everything you know."

This time Maraiya was quicker to answer and made sure to speak clearly. "I discovered proof of it in my mother's correspondence." She said. "Nightingale Hall has been sending and receiving messages from Hornwood Castle, which is held by Bolton men. She would not allow anyone to handle these messages once delivered, not even her Maester. She would also write her own responses."

Realizing that this might not be received by her audience as intended she added. "My mother never does that. Live with her as long as I have and you'll know that she delegates anything and everything to servants unless it is something she would trust only to herself. I only found them because I knew a way into the castle's solar that she didn't, and because she'd disobeyed written orders to burn the parchment after memorizing its contents."

Stannis looked at her expectantly, his iron hard stare unnerving her before Syronos slowly stepped into her field of vision and turned to face her, appearing at ease yet giving her a half-smile that somehow pushed her to keep talking.

"It was in a form of code, but I think if you hear it for yourself you will agree that its intent is plain." She recalled what she'd read and began to recite it. "Walrus season looks promising. The butchers' blades are sharp and they wait eagerly to do their work. They promise generous return for our labour. Those extra hands from Norvos will be a godsend, I trust you to see them safely from White Harbour. Watch for prowling wolves and stags, for starvation and desperation breeds boldness in both of them."

The Farring knight snorted. "That's it? Talk of animals and hunting-"

"The Boltons have promised a reward for Lord Manderly's death as well as aid to see it through," Stannis cut the man off. "Sellswords from Norvos to besiege White Harbour, from the sound of it. They also sent a warning to watch for those loyal to both myself and House Stark." He gave Ser Farring a withering stare. "In times of peace the particular choice of phrase would not be nearly enough for justice to be dispensed without physical evidence, but we are not in a time of peace and the Boltons did not chase after her so persistently to keep me from hearing of walrus hunting. Tell me more, Lady Bell."

Maraiya recited more messages that she'd read, all with similar themes.

Walrus hunting, dealing with starving wolves and rabid stags, mentions of the helping hands from Norvos and their expertise in clearing wooded areas quickly. One message at a time, the pieces began to fit together.

"It wasn't until I'd overheard my mother speaking with other conspirators that I fully understood what this meant." Maraiya said after repeating the contents of two score scrolls of parchment. "They believed themselves secure from eavesdropping and spoke plainly. Roose Bolton has secured the service of a sellsword army, the Company of the Axe."

At this, the Farring, Horpe, Wylde and Massey knights all reacted visibly, their respective expressions changing to that of wary concern. The swine knight took notice of this and appeared only confused.

"What's that supposed to be?" He asked, irate. "We've plenty of sellswords here already, what's one more company to tip the scales?"

"The Company of the Axe is the second largest sellsword army in Essos after the Golden Company." Ser Wylde explained grimly. "But they've refused countless offers in favour of staying by the lands said to be the true ancestral origin of the Andals, fighting against the men of Iben in service of Norvos. It is called the Axe, from which they take their name. But to mistake the Company of the Axe as just any sell-sword army is a grim mistake."

"Maester." Stannis beckoned with one hand, almost conjuring the feeble form of Maester Colin from the background. "Do you know of this company?"

"I do, your Grace." The Maester bowed low, his chains clinking. "Their origin dates back to the Andal migration. When the North was targeted for invasion, King Theon Stark the Hungry Wolf repelled all invading armies and led an armada across the Narrow Sea to Andalos in retaliation. He ravaged every town and sept he came upon and displaced any who survived. Of the survivors, many returned to the Axe only to live under the rule of one city or another as it changed hands. Overtime some formed bands and knightly orders that were short lived, but…"

He coughed heavily, prompting Hugo Wull to offer the old man a guiding hand to the nearest chair and a goblet of water from Lady Sybelle. When he finally recovered he resumed.

"They were…united by exiled westerosi, those of the Swords and Stars who refused to accept the offer by King Jaeherys the Conciliator to disarm and disband." He motioned with one arm to Ser Farring. "Experienced knights loyal only to their own dogmatic views brought with them many Poor Fellows and much wealth taken from the unearthed holdings of the Faith Militant. They seized control of many of these groups and aligned them under a common cause: vengeance."

"Upon those who had chased their ancestors out of Andalos." Syronos added. "The Faith of the Old Gods is already reviled by worshippers of the Seven. It makes a perfect enemy to rally against even without Theon Stark's invasion of Andalos."

"That was their original intent, yes." Maester Colin agreed. "However…to date they have never departed from the Axe, so far as I am aware anyways. In return for the support of Greater Norvos, they hold the Axe against the men of Ibben. They control entire towns, maintain trade in the region in Norvos' name and hold the fortress of Hugo's Keep, a bastion of their interpretation of the Faith of the Seven. Rhetoric concerning a new crusade against the North is regularly discussed, yet nothing has ever come of it."

"Until now, with the North divided and the Flayers inviting them in." Hugo Wull rumbled. "What is that leech skinned fuck thinking?! Inviting crusaders into our lands?!"

"He thinks to use the Company to weaken you." Maraiya answered. "An army of seven thousand led by seven hundred knights, seventy commanders, six generals and their Lord Commander have already set sail. They will bring with them siege equipment, war beasts and a fleet to besiege White Harbour by land and sea. He hopes that you will be forced to march on them first."

"And in doing so weaken both our forces and theirs so that Bolton might sweep both his enemy of today…and potential enemies of tomorrow off of the board." Syronos concluded.

The Horpe Knight spoke out. "Their false idols shall not avail them." He stepped into the middle of the gathering. "We know their plan. Give me leave to rally your fleet, your Grace, and I will make the Shivering Sea run red beneath White Harbour."

"I'm certain that Lord Manderly will be glad to see one flavour of zealot fall to another from the comfort of his castle." Lady Sybelle said, her voice thick with mockery. "Try to actually use your head before it is bashed open, fool."

"Hold your tongue, pagan wench!" Ser Horpe commanded harshly.

"I'll not be silenced in my own home by some blood thirsty fool of a Knight with as much chivalry as a wildling!" Sybelle snapped. "The Boltons were hunting for her." She pointed at Maraiya. "They must know by now that their hunters have failed. Even if they do not know that she has shared their plans, they would be idiots to proceed! And Roose Bolton is no fool."

"Are all Northern women this spirited?" Ser Farring took a step towards Lady Sybelle. "Perhaps in your husband's absence, you should be reminded of your place-"

"Silence!" Stannis barked just as Chief Wull and Syronos' hands hovered close to their weapons. "She is right. This is why Bolton has refused to meet my armies in the field and has hidden behind snow and ice. He will take no chance that his reinforcements might be intercepted before they land."

He held up one of the rolls of parchment delivered by Maraiya and read from it. "Take care that the pack does not disrupt trade and travel. Should they be prowling along the road to White Harbour, we must see that brave and loyal men meet with any travellers and see them to safety elsewhere so that our festivities are not delayed." He slammed the parchment down against the table. "They planned for the possibility that they would be found out. Bolton has some means of warning his sellswords so they know to land elsewhere."

"They could strike anywhere." Ser Wylde warned. "Our ships at East Watch and Karhold. The Wildlings at Queenscrown. Last Hearth. They could even bypass White Harbour and move up the White Knife to reinforce the Boltons directly."

"Or divide their forces and wreak havoc across every one of my holdings." Stannis stood up to his full height. "Lady Bell, your service to your King shall be remembered. For now I must command that you remain within Deepwood Motte."

Maraiya slid down to one knee. "As you command, your Grace."

"Under guard." Stannis added.

"Of course, your Grace." Maraiya made to rise.

"And I must warn you: the treason of your mother places the future of your house in doubt." Stannis continued. "As such, if you wish to assume rule of your ancestral lands with my blessing I will require an assurance of your continued fealty and that of your heir. A war can be won through force of arms and strategic cunning, but lasting peace is so much harder to maintain, as my brother's short lived dynasty has demonstrated. He spared some who should have met the headsman's blade or been stripped of their lands and titles, as was his royal prerogative; yet he made no effort to ensure their loyalty beyond a hollow vow. I intend to avoid that mistake."

There could be no mistaking the King's intent, yet Maraiya quietly prayed against it nonetheless.

"In the near future, you shall need to be wed to a loyal man worthy of your station." Stannis stated. "I will not press any suitors upon you, not yet. If there is a man you can name whose loyalty to me is without question then I shall give him consideration. Until then, you may consider yourself a ward of the Crown."

And like that, Maraiya realized that she had exchanged the iron bars and chains of a Bolton prison for the iron word and chains of fealty of a Baratheon. Already she could see some of the knights in Stannis' company had contemplative gleams in their eyes.

"With his Grace's blessing." Syronos spoke. "I would recommend assigning some men of House Wull to see to Lady Maraiya's safety."

"Savages protecting the person and virtue of such a maiden?" The pig knight snorted only for any further mockery to end as Hugo Wull towered over him, the glare of his eyes hidden in the shadow of his helmet.

"Knights and Lords we are not," The Big Bucket growled, "but it is more often Knights and Lords who force themselves on maidens. Victor Bell was a good and dear friend to me and mine, and I will not trust her safety to overreaching southrons like you."

Stannis watched the exchange unfold until he was certain the two would not come to blows…or more likely that the Big Bucket would not rid him of one more blunt instrument. "Captain Dirrin's suggestion has merit." He nodded. "Hugo Wull, I leave Maraiya Bell in your clan's custody until such a time that she is granted leave to return to Nightingale Hall."

So it was not entirely an ordeal that awaited her, at least. Maraiya had become fond of the Big Bucket during the journey to Deepwood Motte, with his jovial ways and stories of her father. His men had likewise shown that despite being far from what the south might consider to be civilized, they were more trustworthy in how they cared not for wearing masks to hide their true selves. Not all of them were chivalrous by any means, but she had felt much safer among them than she did among the southern knights occupying House Glover's ancestral seat.

The Big Bucket stepped away from the pig knight and grunted, bowing his head. "As your Grace commands." He lumbered over and offered Maraiya his hand. "Come, m'lady."

She accepted the offering and followed him out, feeling so much lighter once the doors closed behind her.

Xxx

Skagos

7th Day of the 11th Moon of 300 AC

There was never a shortage of food here. The Old Horns were best left alone unless truly desperate, but he found anything else needed to sate his hunger as he searched.

His wild brother had been through here recently. Many times. Hunting. Him and his equally wild sibling.

Ghost came upon stray broken arrows, remains of encampments and cooking fires, mounds of dirt shifted to cover where his wild brothers had defecated. This had been his task set by his silent brother, to find the wild brothers. He was getting closer each day, but by now it seemed they had discovered they were being followed.

They were trying to evade him. False trails, crossing through dangerous territory and changing their scent to lose him. But he had hunted in far more treacherous grounds before, hunted the blue eyed ones where ever they tried to harm his silent brother's pack. To Ghost, these tricks were easily seen through.

Suddenly, the scent of smoke and cooked meat hit him. Ghost stiffened and then padded, silently as his namesake, towards the source. He picked up the crunch of twigs and leaves underfoot and heard the faintest whisper of a woman.

He may have been silent, but a stray breeze had sent his scent downwind and warned his wild brother. They were moving.

Ghost raced forward, erupting through underbrush. A mass of black slammed into him from the side, but he rolled with them and flung them off so he could rise to his feet, teeth bared.

His wild brother snarled, green eyes ablaze with a wordless fury as he bared bloody fangs. The wild brother lunged, but Ghost met them and wrestled them down onto their back where he used is superior size and weight to pin them, leaving them to claw uselessly at him and snap his jaws at thin air.

"Shaggy!"

Ghost heard a bow string tightening as it was pulled back and threw himself clear before an arrow sang through where his head had been. Abandoning his wild brother where he lay, he darted behind the nearest tree as a second arrow flew. Peeking out, he saw two humans emerge, one of them a taller female who had fired the arrows and the other…

The little wild brother. At last!

Ghost slowly leaned into view only to withdraw as the she-hunter nocked a third arrow.

"Get 'em Shaggy!" The little wild brother howled, pointing a sharpened stick and urging the big wild brother on, trying to flush Ghost out.

"Wait!" The she-hunter slowly lowered her weapon. "Wait, little lord."

"It hit Shaggy!" The little wild brother snarled. "Let's kill it!"

"No, little lord." The she-hunter set her arrow aside. "Look at him. He could've opened Shaggydog before we got back, but he didn't." She knelt down and eyed Ghost as he peeked his head out again. "You're a Direwolf too…not one I've seen, but Little Bran told me of the pups his older brothers came home with. One for each Stark, even one for their Snow brother. Whites of fur, eyes red as the sap of a Heartree and silent as death. Are you the Snow's wolf? Are you Ghost?"

The little wild brother still kept his spear pointed towards Ghost as he padded out into view, but made no move to attack. The big wild brother bared his fangs again but stayed by his sibling's side as Ghost moved in close enough for the she-hunter to brush between the ears.

"You are, aren't you?" She grinned. "Is Jon here? Has the little lord's brother come for him?"

The sound of others approaching drew both direwolves' attention. They glowered in the direction of men shambling through the trees, guided by packs of hounds.

"Stanes." The she-hunter hissed and pulled away from Ghost. "Come along, little lord."

Hunters, seeking the wild brothers. Ghost nudged his sibling away, urging him to remain with their little wild brother and his protector. With some reluctance this command was obeyed and Ghost turned is attention to the approaching hunters, who released their hounds and broke into jogs as they neared.

By the time these men reached the clearing they found only the remains of a hastily disassembled camp site and the mangled bodies of three of their hounds.

Xxx

8th Day of the 11th Moon of 300 AC

Ashcrown, Skane

Jon gasped, but drew no breath. It was reflex that made him lash out in a panic, ripping through the layers of white silk that encroached around him. In his haste he tore his way free and landed on twisting roots which sloped down to the Sheepstealer's resting spot.

The dragon opened one eye and tilted its head away from Jon as it eyed him. Turning away, it lowered its snout to nudge at Rhae where she lay until she awoke.

"Fucking what now?" The dragon rider groaned and turned over. "Sheepy, you'd better-" She stopped upon seeing Jon stumble down towards them. "Oh, you're back. Took you long enough. How'd the monster hunt go?"

Jon slumped down sideways against an outcropping and fumbled for Longclaw's hilt. He pulled what remained of the Valyrian steel blade out for Rhae to see.

"That bad, eh?" She nodded and rolled off of Sheepstealer's flank. "Well, fuck."

She smoothed out her cloak and beckoned for Jon to follow. "Come on, you've got worse news to hear yet."

"How…long?" Jon wheezed.

"Since you went to Morgund'dur? This'd be the fourth day since." Rhae sighed. "Also the fourth since your friends ran off after you."

That made Jon shoot to his feet. "Tormund?" He raced after her. "Davos? They went there?!"

"Aye, that's the truth of it. I didn't know until I got back, else I'd have stopped them." Rhae shrugged. "Sounds like my father didn't do much to keep them from running off though. Take it up with him if you wish, I've got a dragon who will get cranky if I stay away for too long."

The Weaver sat at the shore of a pond within Ashcrown's boundaries, accompanied by his usual entourage and watching with a fatherly smile as several of them feasted upon the cocooned forms of several frogs.

"I take it that your foray into Morgund'dur did not yield victory." Daemon said, keeping his back to Jon.

"You sent Davos and Tormund there." Jon accused. "They might already be dead!"

"I hardly had to command them to do anything." Daemon replied. "They were already intent on following you, particularly Giantsbane. I merely gave them something that would give them a fighting chance: knowledge of your enemy."

"And why wasn't this shared with me before?" Jon demanded. "I was nowhere near prepared to face Tar-Medine! I barely got away with my life!"

"Not even that." Daemon stood and dusted off his long robes. "You've no life left to give, Jon Snow. You are a Grave Walker now, a wraith anchored between two worlds. You have only more of your humanity to lose with every fatal blow you suffer."

He turned and gave Jon a knowing smile with a nefarious glint in his eyes. "You know what I speak of already, don't you? You've only died twice ever since you became as you are, but you've felt it; like a cask that has sprung a leak you've felt something being slowly siphoned away."

As uncomfortable as it was to admit it: the old man was not wrong.

"Tell me…has anything from your distant past been harder to recall?" Daemon picked up his staff and limped up to where Jon stood. "A fond memory with one of your siblings. The first time you felt proud of something you'd done. An old shame. A bitter moment of resentment."

Looking back, Jon could recall the more memorable moments of the past several years in perfect clarity. The moment he'd been elected Lord-Commander, being given Longclaw, facing a wight for the first time, taking his oath to the Night's Watch, parting ways with his family for the last time…

Speaking to Tyrion Lannister and heeding his counsel…

Drinking himself drunk in the great hall…

Finding Ghost…did he find Ghost in the bushes close by, already walking on his own, or had it been just on the other side of his mother's corpse?

Sparring with Robb, Theon, Jory and a dozen other faces that melded together…he could have sworn he remembered most of them. The guards at Winterfell had been warmer towards him than Lady Stark.

Playing in the Godswood with Arya…how long ago had that been?

Watching Bran climb…something…he remembered feeling scared. Jon had seen his brother climb most of the structures and walls in Winterfell, but this one…had it been the old tower? He'd been scared that something Bran climbed would crumble beneath him.

Playing with Robb and…something upset him. He couldn't remember why. Robb had said something…that included calling him a bastard. The other words were muffled and incoherent.

He'd made a doll for Sansa's nameday…when had that been? He'd been so scared that Lady Stark would destroy it, he made Arya give it in his place…or had it been Robb?

Old memories from his earlier days, events that he'd thought locked into his recollection were now distant and fading. Small details here and there such as a face, a name, a location. With some Jon would debate between two possibilities, with others…he couldn't begin to remember anything about them.

"I predict that some of your less significant memories are already gone, with others faded but still recoverable." Daemon told Jon as he stepped past him. "That is the consequence of your undead state. To return to life, a price is reaped which slowly carves out pieces of you which make you Jon Snow, bastard son of Eddard Stark."

A frightening thought came to Jon in light of the old man's words. How much could he have forgotten entirely already? How many more times could he die before he began to forget the faces of his friends and family? Who would he become if he forgot them all?

…

What would he become?

"Why?" Jon gasped as he turned towards the elder.

"Why, you ask? Because that is the true consequences of being undying, Jon Snow." Daemon lightly pressed the head of his staff to Jon's brow. "For it is that which lays here which defines that which lays here." He lowered the staff to press against Jon's unbeating heart. "To be undying, to be immortal…is to slowly watch as everything you cherish fades away into obscurity until even you have forgotten it all. And once that happens, all that will remain will be a hollow shell without any ties to its former life to guide it."

He withdrew his staff. "And you needed to learn this now rather than later, to realize that you still stand to lose something more precious than any treasure. Better now than after Jon Snow fades away to be replaced by the Grave Walker."

The Weaver shuffled back onto the path towards the Sheepstealer's enclosure. "And now that you've learned, we may begin."

"Begin?" Jon followed after.

"Begin showing you how to slay a monster properly!" Daemon hollered and gestured impatiently with his staff. "Move it along! Youth these days, capable of moving so fast and always going nowhere unless you hold their hand…" He grumbled.

Xxx

Coast of Skane, Sea Dragon

"There's your missing ship, alright." Baldric Magnar lowered the spy glass and handed it to Ser Narbert Grandison. "Perfectly good waste, too."

The Baratheon ship had been smashed against the rocks surrounding Skane. From a safe distance the Lord of Kingston had seen that the anchors had not been dropped and every long boat was absent.

"I'll have whoever allowed this flogged to the bone." Ser Narbert hissed after observing it for himself.

Were it anyone but the red priestess said to be aboard, Baldric would have believed the Stormlander. There was no proof as of yet, but Baldric could not think of anyone else who would violate Jon Snow and Davos Seaworth's commands for the ship to remained moored off of Skagos. The question of how she managed this could be answered later.

"M'lord!" One of the sailors raced to Baldric's side. "Word from the watchman: long boats spotted on short less than half a league north along the coast."

"That solves that mystery." Baldric deadpanned.

He hadn't wanted to return here. After Jon Snow's company had failed to return within three days he had done as he promised and sailed back home, only to find a collective of Thenns, Karstark men-at-arms and southron soldiers stranded in his lands. They'd spoken of an Essosi woman who had held the king's ear ever since she entered his service, who drank an entire goblet of poison and hadn't died and conjured magic by burning men alive in sacrifice to her god. He'd heard of their kind before, and had instructed all of his agents to avoid them if at all possible.

If one of the fire worshippers were going to Skane, he could only imagine them making everything worse. The last thing Skagos needed was someone else with a propensity for burning everything in sight. So he'd offered Ser Narbert and his remaining company transport to Skane to retrieve the wayward ship.

He had his own reasons behind this sudden bout of generosity, the hope of finding Jon Snow waiting on the shore with the monster's head being the most prominent. But he didn't care to share this with Ser Narbert. Of course the knight's motivations may have laid in not wanting to explain to his king how he'd lost an entire vessel on top of the Hand of the King. Baldric had known him only a few days and knew that the Stormlander begrudged taking orders from a lowborn smuggler turned Lord and a Northern bastard.

If given the option the Stormlander would have sooner sailed back with Rickon Stark in tow without any of the Thenns or Northmen for company. Still, he had managed to maintain a modicum of décor in accepting Baldric's offer and had yet to say or do anything to offend- if anything he appeared to be treading carefully when in Baldric's presence when his interactions with most others were short and dismissive at best.

"Get the long boats ready, lads!" Baldric roared. "Ser Narbert, unfortunately that your ship is beyond saving, but I'll aid you in salvaging what you can from it and guarantee you and your men safe return to the mainland. However that's as far as I'll go. I'll not set one foot on Skane nor command any man sworn to me to do the same."

"I will gladly be rid of this wretched spit of rock." Ser Narbert watched his men, both on the Sea Dragon and her sister ship the Trident, load into the longboats. "The bastard and smuggler have clearly failed in their monster hunt. After we finish salvaging what we can, you may take us back to Skagos. I'll find the Stark boy on my own without anymore of these distractions and diversions."

Xxx

Ashcrown, Skane

"If you knew I had no chance, why did you send them after me?" Jon tried not to squirm at the sight of the Weaver imbibing from a bowl filled with wriggling, lives insects.

"Why? So that you would have reason to go back." Daemon said while the sound of an insect's shell crunching between his teeth mixed with his words. "To know that you had no chance of defeating Tar-Medine would have sent you fleeing back to Skagos to take your chances. None would blame you for that, faced with a seemingly insurmountable foe, but my people need Tar-Medine vanquished and you still remain the best chance for that."

A manipulator the Weaver was, but a straightforward one at least.

"What is he?" Jon changed the course of the conversation, ever grateful that he hadn't eaten in days. "Tar-Medine. Is he a man?"

"Of course he's a man! Did you see any tits on him?" Daemon snorted. "But more than that, he is a being who takes the form of a man out of amusement. His true form, that which he assumes when stepping out to entertain himself with harassing the stoneborn, is the very monster you envisioned slaying."

So the Lord of Morgund'dur and the beast responsible for the flight of the Skani and the desolation on Skagos were truly one and the same.

"He is formidable as you've already seen for yourself, but he is not invulnerable." Daemon explained after swallowing a long wriggling form which made Jon almost gag. "In fact, he is weaker now than he's ever been. In his glory days you would have been crushed underfoot like an ant. Good old Sheepy there dealt him wounds that still haven't healed."

Sheepstealer snorted and opened one eye.

"And just like Sheep, he feeds from another source of magic to sustain himself." Daemon continued. "Only his source is not so…big." He motioned to the Heartree towering over the gathering spot. "In fact, I made it clear to Ser Davos and Giantsbane that if they could find it they could easily remove it from Morgund'dur's confines."

"Then what is it?" Jon asked.

Daemon held up his index finger and thumb on one hand together to form a loop. "A ring."

"A ring?"

"Are you a parrot?" Daemon asked. "Yes, a ring. A magic ring. Very powerful, too."

"If his source of power is a ring, then Tar-Medine could be wearing it even now." Jon pointed out the flaw in Daemon's plan.

"Oh not this one!" Daemon grinned and shook his head. "No, this one…Tar-Medine would be a fool to wear this ring. No, he found another way to suckle at its power without exposing himself to it. A ritual, ongoing in perpetuity and reliant on the ring remaining at the heart of a magical array hidden within the fortress. Pluck that out and-" He crushed one of his snacks in his bony hand. "You'll have a greater chance than anyone else would of ending that wretch."

Rhae came to Jon's rescue and took the bowl from her father's lap. "Seriously? In front of a guest? And I thought my manners were in question." She shook her head and tossed the contents to some of the Weaver's spiders.

Instead of getting upset at this, the Weaver chuckled softly. "Oh Rhae, allow an old man his vices."

"I will when they aren't making an undead man wish he was full dead." Rhae rubbed her palms against the fabric of her cloak. "And as for your grand plan, Snow would need an army to get near that ring. It's guarded day and night by an entire company of Orcs specially chosen for the task, and their Captain has them disciplined and ready for anything. I couldn't get close to that and I've tried several times every year since I took over as Sheep's rider."

"Well you are not a Grave Walker, dear." Daemon reminded her. "In fact, by the dawning look of realization I see in his eyes, I think our guest already has a plan."

"I do." Jon nodded quickly. "But I need a few things. Is there a way that we can contact the Skagosi? We'll need Lord Magnar's help and for the rest of my company to be ferried over."

A shrill whistle from Ashcrown's borders made Sheepstealer raise his head in alarm.

"Something tells me your wish will be granted, Jon Snow." Daemon held up a hand so a mouse sized spider could lower itself down onto his palm. "Rhae, we have unwelcome guests approaching. Be a dear and take Jon to speak with them before they set something on fire."

Xxx

End of Chapter