sv2-audiotest Chapter 1, a x-overs fanfic

Jul 8, 2017

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"Will she live?" asked Rhaegar Targaryen of the old healing woman.

"Unlikely your Grace, the birth was early and hard, she had been in a fever for days before she went into labor, the labor was hard, she, she is bleeding inside and the fever's chills wrack her body, she, she will not see the morn." As if to underscore the old woman's words the girl in the bed gives a shriek of pain and arches her back to almost breaking, the cords in her neck staining out taut as she screams herself hoarse, Rhaegar's swears that he can hear bones cracking and snapping in the tiny female form before Lyanna collapses back onto the bed. Despite her obvious exhaustion the girl thrashes about, moaning and mouthing insensible words, refusing to lay still on the bed, whose sheets are stained dark red with her blood.

The stone walls of the room were almost invisible in the shadows, only a few candles burned to provide light, outside the Dornish twilight was rapidly giving way to true night, from the windows came the sounds of crickets and the warm smell of dust and sun heated stone.

"Show me the, the babe" asks Rhaegar quietly, the old woman hesitates, he sees fear in her dark brown eyes, she makes no move to hand over the blood soaked bundle that she holds in her arms.

Gerold Hightower steps forwards from the shadows, his bulk towering over the old women "Your Prince gave you a command woman!" he growls, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

The old woman glares at him, showing no sign of fear, turning her unflinching gaze to Rhaegar and slowly handing him the tiny bundle "It was not meant to be, such things are an abomination before the sight of the Seven, best that it did not live" she whispered.

Hightower struck the woman a hard blow across her face, "How dare you speak of the Price's son in that manner!" he screams as the old midwife crumpled to the wooden floor of the room, but she did not cry out, only wiped her cut lip of blood and glared up at the two men.

Rhaegar slowly un-wrapped the cloth, seeing his stillborn child for the 1st time; he sucked air into his lungs with a gasp. The tiny thing was misshapen, hideously deformed, one of its legs was not a leg at all, it looked more like the hind limb of a dog, slick dark fur covered it and it ended in a clawed paw, the other leg looked like it was some nightmare combination of dog and human, covered in thin patches of fur and stunted, misshapen. The infants torso and left arm was milk pale, human enough looking, but that was where any similarity ended, its right arm was a tiny, dragon's wing, pale red in colour and its head, by all the Gods! It was a thing of nightmare, some seven hell spawned combination of a wolf, a dragon and a human. This, this thing had given one long, plaintive screech when it had torn its way out of Lyanna and then mercifully it had died.

Rhaegar folded the dirty, blood stained cloth over the little corpse and nodded to Hightower, who pulled out a knife and quickly stabbed the old midwife several times, she did not even scream once, staggering to her feet to hold herself up at the foot of the bed she stared at her blood leaking through the stab wounds. She lifted her gaze to Rhaegar and sputtered her final words "Flee, all of you, before the Wolf's moon rises!" At this she slumped forwards into an untidy heap on the floor.

"Burn this, and her" said Rhaegar to Gerold Hightower, handing him the bundle of cloth "We will never speak of this again, understood?" he asked, his eyes catching and holding those of the Lord Commander of the Kings Guards.

"Yes your Grace" replied Hightower as Rhaegar left the room, behind him Lyanna Stark gave another scream that ended in what sounded like a howl, through one of the windows he could see the full moon rising in the early evening sky, hanging low on the horizon and blood red.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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Rhaegar sat at a rough hewn wooden table with Arthur Dayne and Oswell Whent, the three of them were drinking wine and none were talking much, avoiding even making eye contact with each other. A glum and surly mood had settled over the men, not helped by the latest letter that had arrived from Kings Landing earlier on in the day. King Aerys had demanded Rhaegar's presence at Kings Landing and the rest of the letter was filled with the usual despotic ramblings and bloodthirsty threats that the King was wont to make. Rhaegar sat sullenly glaring at his wine cup, wondering what had gone wrong, why had what was foretold in A Song of Ice and Fire gone so wrong? He had based all of his life since he had discovered those ancient texts on fulfilling the destiny that was laid down for him, why had he failed? The more he thought about it the more he began to believe that the fault was not with him, he was the Dragon after all, his blood was as pure Valyrian as one could find in Westeros. Maybe that was the problem, there was not enough Valyrian blood available, it had been a mistake to think that the blood of the Starks was suitable to mix with the blood of the Dragon, for the Dragon was a creature of magic, while what was the wolf? Just an overgrown dog. He would have to rethink his plans, but only after he had crushed that rebel Robert and scattered its supporters to the winds, and disposed of his mad father.

Gerold Hightower entered; a faint smell of woodsmoke entered the room with him, Rhaegar hearing the faint crackling of the pyre that he had built outside.

"It is done your Grace" the man said in a voice that only betrayed a trace of the weariness Rhaegar could see in his eyes. Hightower sat down at the table and pulled a pitcher of wine towards him, pouring a cup and downing it in several gulps. Above their heads came another series of agonised moans and groans, Hightower's eyes went to the ceiling above, a look of sadness on his face before he dropped his eyes and met Rhaegar's stare.

"No Ser Gerold, we will not kill her, the old woman said she will not see the dawn, we will leave this place tomorrow and return to Kings Landing and from there I will take charge of my father's army and ride North to crush Robert Baratheon and put down his silly little rebellion once and for all. If the girl still lives then we shall give her the Stranger's mercy, and we will burn this Tower down before we leave, and none will speak of what happened here for the rest of their days!" said Rhaegar, looking in turn at each of the Kingsguard, waiting until each one replied in the affirmative.

"It seems we Targaryen's have acquired a habit of burning Starks of late" remarked Rhaegar, a wan smile on his face, reaching for his cup of wine.

From above came another wail of pain, followed by a shriek that ended in sobbing and incoherent moans.

Arthur Dayne went to stand up "SIT!" Rhaegar hissed "SIT Ser Arthur, that wolf bitch did not deserve the seed of the dragon in her belly, her wolfish blood was tainted by some foul curse, corrupted by the pagan sorcery of the North no doubt. She deserves no mercy for her failure, for being unworthy to bear the third head of the Dragon, to be the mother to my Visenya!"

Dayne slowly sits back down, the men drink in an uneasy silence as outside the night deepens, the moon rises behind the scattered cloud until it finally breaks out into the star strewn sky, bathing the landscape in its silver radiance.

From above Lyanna Stark shrieks a cry that chills all four men to the bone, her unearthly wail of torment ending in what sounds to all of them like a wolf's howl.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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The four men stumbled to their feet, all of them feeling as if something had changed, as if a strange, terrible taint had entered the very air around them. All drew their swords unbidden and almost on reflex, they looked at each other in the flickering candle light. They were all seasoned fighters, all had killed men, and a few women, none were immune to the sights, nor the sounds of a battle and killing, but the sound that had so suddenly cut off from above them? None had heard anything like if before, with cold water running through their veins they realized that no human mouth or throat could make a sound like that.

There was a thump on the floor above, as if something large had fallen, then what sounded like someone walking, a faint tick tick sound accompanying the soft, yet heavy sounding footfalls. The men look at each other in silence, their faces betraying shock and confusion until the silence is broken by a loud wolf's howl, sounding for all the worlds like a triumphant bellow of freedom, which definitely came from just above their heads. This froze them into immobility just as they had been about to move to the stairs and climb up into the room above, as the howl died to echo's reflecting off the hills they gave themselves a mental shake and made for the door, which suddenly burst inwards in a spray of wood splinters and shards, a long and jagged one of which speared Gerold Hightower in his right eye, the Lord Commander falling to his knees screaming in pain.

Dayne dropped to one knee beside his Lord Commander to try and pull the fragment from his skull, Rhaegar and Whent were distracted by sudden movement from the shadows beyond the wreckage of the door.

"Well, well, well" said a throaty, rumbling voice from the shadows "what have we here?"

Rhaegar saw something moving in the darkness, saw two golden, glowing eyes blink as the creature stepped through the frame of the ruined door and fully into the room. It was small in height, covered in fur that seemed to catch the light from the candles in the room, russet, mahogany and honey golden streaks caught the light in its sleek, black fur. It stood upright like a man though its legs were those of a wolf, its arms ended in hands with inch long claw tipped fingers. The face of the thing was that of a wolf, with mobile ears protruding above its skull, ears which twitched and moved, just as its snout sniffed the air. It's eyes gazed around the room with a golden glare that spoke of intelligence and reasoning, but also of hate and fury.

"Rhaegar the inbreed rapist of Lord Paramount's daughters and the cream of sothron chivalry, who prove their honor and martial valor by holding down children to be raped!" the thing rasped, its voice a low growl, the words seeming to be distorted by being made by a mouth not designed for speaking. The thing smiled at them, revealing a mouth full of razor sharp fangs, no, its mouth was made for rending and tearing flesh, not for talking.

The scene was frozen for a second before Rhaegar roared "Kill it!" and he lunged forwards.

The creature roared back its approval, its howl harsh with expectation and the thrill of the slaughter to come.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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I float in darkness, feeling nothing, hearing nothing, seeing nothing; my mind is like the surface of the pool in the Winterfell Godswood, so still and mirror calm. From the darkness comes a voice, my mother's voice 'hush sweetling, it not yet time to wake', an odd combination of words for her to use, and I know I'm dreaming.

'I wish it did not have to be her' I hear my father say, his voice heavy with regret, sadness, pain.

'It is the only way' I hear Brandon reply, his voice equally sad.

'My poor little wolf cub...' says my father, his voice catching in his throat.

The harsh sound of a Crow calling twice, three times.

'There's a war coming Ned, I don't know when, and I don't know who we will be fighting, but it's coming!' That sounds like Robert's voice, but older somehow?

The darkness now fades, and I can see the wall, but it looks different somehow, I see figures, clad in grey furs, a dark haired youth at their lead, his features Stark like, my heart gives a lurch for some reason when I see him, beside him is a beautiful red haired wildling. She loves the handsome youth, that much is evident from the way she looks at him, I hear her voice say 'You know nothing Jon Snow!'

Flames, I see flames all around me, but their heat does not reach me, I stare out into the darkness of a strange, foreign Temple, a red headed woman stares back at me in shock, her face a mask of panic and fear, I snatch back my mind as I feel something groping for it.

I see King's Landing, as if from afar and from a great height, like I am an eagle or such, it is dark and from the below comes the sounds of fighting, the clash of steel and the hoarse sounds of men fighting and dying, mingled with the screams of women and the terrified cries of children. Fire sparkles in the city below in several places, then suddenly a blossom of green flame erupts into the night sky, consuming several houses, more and more of these green flames begin to billow out explosively from the buildings below, until almost the entire city is consumed, the Red Keep standing above it all illuminated by the unearthly green blaze, so bright that they burn my eyes and my sight fails.

'I wish it did not have to be her' my father says again.

'She would die otherwise' replied Brandon, resignation heavy in his voice.

'She is but a girl, can she survive this, this blasphemy that will be done to her?' asks father.

'It is not blasphemy father, we Starks mingled our blood with that of Direwolves in ages long past'

'Aye, but there was a price for that, there is always a price for desperate measures...'

'True my son, but if it were your daughter?'

'She is my sister, our folly in part has caused this father.'

'There are many threads of fate my son, we must weave what we can of them.'

'Will it be enough?'

'It has to be, for all of us.'

The crow calls again, its caw cawing sounding desperate.

I see Rhaegar, standing in shallow, blood soaked water, all around him a battle rages, Robert Baratheon stalks towards him, the two of them fight, briefly, Robert is savage in his attacks, relentless in wielding his war hammer. Rhaegar fights back, but his heart does not seem to be in it, Robert's weapon strikes the Dragon Princes armor over his chest, rubies and other precious stones fly into the air as Rhaegar falls backwards into the water, his chest caved in. As he lies in the water a single word escapes his lips 'Lyanna' as Robert's war hammer descends and crushes his skull, my vision retreating into blackness.

'You know nothing Jon Snow' repeats the Wildling girl.

A Golden haired man looks at a Stark child in a ruined window, pushing him out of the window with the words 'the things I do for love', the boys gasp of surprise is drowned out the mournful howling of a wolf. The vision fades into nothingness.

'But, am I ready' I hear a young, frightened voice say.

'No' an older voice replies.

'Ned, Promise me Ned' my voice says in anguished desperation.

'I Promise' I hear Ned reply.

A white blonde haired girl stands in front of serried ranks of soldiers, clad in a blue cloak, something screeches and cry's over the silence of the scene, she turns to face me and in Valyrian says 'A Dragon is not a slave, I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, of the Blood of Old Valyria!'

Darkness once again.

'We're here for a reason, we are part of something larger than ourselves' a man's voice says.

Another man replies 'half the horrible shit in this world gets done for something larger than ourselves.'

'Good and bad, young and old, the things we are fighting will destroy them all alike!' says another voice.

Grey light seeps into my vision, I see the land, desolate, snow covered, the sky covered in grey, scudding clouds, trees stand stark against the skyline, a ruined village burns on the horizon, a long line of huddled people trudge through the snow, smallfolk, men at arms, mounted knights, all look tired, terrified, and they are obviously fleeing, I can sense their panic, their fear. And I can smell the unmistakable stench of death; it is everywhere, hanging in the air like a miasma. At the head of the column are some men wrapped in Lannister red cloaks, a child seems to be leading them, I peer closer, not a child, a dwarf.

'My Lord!' announces a rider as his horse pulls up to the head of the column, 'Scouts have spotted the main host of the White Walkers, not five leagues from here!'

'It is only a few more Leagues to Lannisport! We must hurry on, where is our main force under my Uncle Kevan?'

'It is moving to block the White Walkers my Lord' the man replies, his face showing the truth of the situation.

'All my uncle needs to do is to buy us two hours, maybe three, that should be enough...' the dwarf replies, resignation heavy on his scarred face.

'We must keep moving!' he says and nudges his weary mount on.

Thankfully darkness reclaims me once more, I tremble with the terrible cold, and the mention of the White Walkers, these things were from myths and legends surely?

My Brother Brandon's voice speaks 'It is time Father, she must face her trial alone.'

'Leave me one more minute with my daughter, please. When she was born, when I first held her in my arms, she looked at me Brandon, and I knew she had the blood of the wolf in her veins, more than you, and more than Eddard or Benjen.'

'Let us hope that her blood gives her the strength to endure what is to come' replies Brandon, his voice brittle with sadness.

'Aye, goodbye wolf daughter of mine, for is time for the wolf to walk as man once again.'

From the darkness a snarling wolf's head descends to my face, I feel its fangs bite deep into my face and I scream and scream and scream.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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Red, that's what I see, red, two slits of red, and the sound of my heart beating, its slow, rhythmic thud thump, thud thump somehow comforting. Panic suddenly grips me, I cannot feel the rest of my body, I cannot feel my arms or legs, I try to open my eyes, they won't, it's as if my nerves are not connected to them anymore. Thud thump, thud thump goes my heart, it's all I have to hold onto, so I grip onto this sound with all my concentration, a tingling sensation like pins and needles travels down my side, waking up the nerves that appear to have been deadened or asleep there. This spikes my interest, I am lying on my side, on what feels like a rough wooden floor, I still cannot move or open my eyes though.

Then a series of jumbled images, thoughts and feelings cascaded through my head, strange and incomprehensible to me, flashing past my mind's eye with bewildering speed, leaving me exhausted and drained. Another tingling sensation reawakened my legs and lower torso, I appeared to be naked from the way my skin felt, but my body feels different somehow, strange. I still could not open my eyes, but with a rush my sense of smell and hearing returned, overwhelming in their intensity. My nose tickled, almost seemed to twitch of its own accord, scents and smells crashing into my mind, a riot of experience and meaning. Blood, old and stale, and new and fresh assaulted my nose, blood of several people, my own included. How did I know this? I jolted at this knowledge, my body twitching involuntarily, I almost groaned at the sensation of my body scraping against the rough floor. Meat, rotten meat beginning to turn in the heat, shit and piss, wine, bread, dust, metal, timber, sun heated stone, earth baked dry in the sun, leaves, trees, grass, horses, rich cloth, all these scents nearly overwhelmed me, not only could I smell all these scents, I could tell how far away there were, but also how 'old' they were.

That would have been overwhelming enough in and of itself, but my sense of hearing also appeared to be hyper sensitive. Now I swore I could hear insects climbing the wall outside, hear the slow creak of the stones as they expanded in the sunlight, insects buzzing in the warm air, rabbits scurrying about in their burrows, hear the heartbeats of the horses stabled outside.

There was still no sign of me being able to open my eyes, nor really move, though I could feel my chest rise and fall with my breathing now, it felt wrong somehow, like there was an extra weight on it, pulling it down. Another series of tingles and spasms spread out through my body, and with it pain, like that of having an intense cramp, but all over, as if every part of you is clamped tight in the grip of the world's worst cramp. I grit my teeth in pain, and a moan escapes my lips, hoarse sounding, as I groan I feel my head and neck moving slightly, the pain of the cramp suddenly disappears, distracting me from my new found ability to move and with a rush all movement and control is returned to my body. I open my eyes, they are gummy with some crud and take one, two attempts to open fully.

I try and relax, I was dreaming, but about what I cannot remember, but I am somehow afraid of my dreams, I let out a little whimper of fear. With a rush my memories flood back in, of the last few months, of being raped repeatedly, of feeling a rapists child swelling unnaturally fast in my body, of the fever and the wracking pains and then the childbirth itself, which felt all wrong, far too painful, far too fast. And after that nothing, no memories of the baby itself, a wave of panic hit me, where was my baby? What had happened to him!

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#10

I blink slowly, I'm lying on a wooden floor, and right in front of me is what appears to be the corpse of a man dressed in red and black clothing, I groan and blink my eyes a few times, I lift myself up on my arm into a sitting position, the stone walled room looks like a hurricane has tore through it, three other bodies lie strewn about, I ignore them for a moment, I'm getting a queasy feeling about looking at them for some reason I don't want to dwell on. The room has honey stone walls, a wooden floor and ceiling, there are two windows, covered by dark wood shutters, it's gloomy but I appear to be able to see perfectly fine, in fact my eyesight is perfect, better than perfect, I can pick out details that stun my mind, the colours, textures, play of light and shadow fascinate me, they seem perfectly capable of grabbing my whole attention for eternity if I let them. The room is strewn with debris and the walls, floor and ceiling are splashed with blood, and other bits. I stumble towards a smashed door frame but I nearly trip over the body at my feet.

I glance down, Rhaegar Targaryen's body is at my feet, again a jumbled and confused series of images flashes through my mind, I refuse to try and let them imprint on my consciousness. He is missing his face! Which, which appears to have been torn off, bitten from his skull if I read those marks as teeth marks. The long sliver blond hair, the forever sightless purple eyes and the fact that the Targaryen crest on his doublet is visible confirm what I already know. My stomach gives a dramatic flip flop at this thought, I let my eyes rove over his broken body, his abdomen is slashed open, entrails are spilled out, torn and shredded to pieces, and beginning to stink to the seven hells if I'm honest. Lower down his trousers are torn open at the crotch, where his genitals should be is a bite sized wound, ragged edged and with more intensities spilling out in glistening, pink coils.

I try not to gag, and step over the body, my bare feet sticking to the film of congealed blood that coated the floor. Arthur Dayne is lying propped up against the wall of the room, his face is badly bruised and his right arm hangs down at a strange angle, broken and dislocated, that's not what killed him I realise, his clothing and boiled leather armour lie in a shredded confusion around his body, his torso and arms are a mass of deep, long scars, like he was raked time and time again with razor sharp talons, for some reason I glance down at my hands and notice my nails, they are sharp looking and have dried blood under them.

The scars on his torso and also on his legs I notice are not what killed him either, he is sitting up at a strange angle and I now can see why, there is a sword hilt sticking out of his anus, looks like someone (me?) rammed Dawn up his arse hard enough for it to come out of the back of his shoulder, I can see the tip of Dawn gleaming as it projected up beyond his head. For some bizarre reason a chuckle escapes my lips, bubbling up out of nowhere, is this madness coming upon me?

Gerold Hightower, the old white bull is a headless corpse, his head is partially mashed against one of the walls, it appeared to have been thrown with such force that it had exploded and scattered brains and bone in a wide radius around the impact. And that left us with just Oswald Whent, now where was that little shit? Ah yes, over there, unrecognisable with his face beaten to mash with the torn off leg of a chair, which was still stuck into the pulp that was his head.

Why was I not screaming? Why was I not shocked by all of this? This was the most brutal of carnage, things I had never seen before, things that I should not ever have to see. I cannot say why, but some strange part of me, a part that would become a well know friend and ever companion for the rest of my days, seemed to be exuding a grim, if somewhat smug satisfaction at the carnage of the room.

Putting aside these thoughts with difficulty I make my way somewhat gingerly to the destroyed door, beyond which is a spiral staircase which curves up out of view. The floor is strewn with bits of torn flesh and smashed wood and I'm barefoot, I don't want to step on something unpleasant. My balance, always so good, is not present with me, my head feels like it is spinning, like I have drunk far too much wine, this brings back a memory of the night Rhaegar and me were 'married', and a growling snarl of anger escapes my throat.

I reach the door and steady myself, before climbing the stairs gingerly until I reach a large bedroom, there is the bed, it's giving me chills just looking at it despite the stuffy heat of the room. The bedclothes are soaked in blood, the smell is rank and heavy with infection and decay, I wrinkle my nose in distaste.

I am making my way slowly to the mirror in the room; a large rectangular one is mounted on the far wall. I approach it from an angle, not letting my form be reflected in it, until I am very close, with a tremble of anticipation I step into its view and look at myself for the 1st time. I stare back at myself, but there is something wrong with my naked body, something that I cannot quite put my finger on, but that's not what catches my eyes, my torso is soaked in blood, as is my face, my mouth is smeared in dried blood. I suddenly realise why and I just manage to turn away from the mirror as I vomit explosively the contents of my stomach, retching and puking until there is nothing left to come up except for thin, blood stained bile. I collapse to the floor, exhausted and drained and I pass out into the blackness of sleep.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#11

'She is strong' I hear my father say with pride.

'Aye, that she is' replies Brandon, a sadness in his voice.

'This must happen, you know it my son, it is the only way, though I wish it was not...'

'Yes father, but I fear for what is to come, so much war, so much bloodshed, and north of the Wall, the olden enemy's slumber is about to end.'

'And if she fails? What of our plans then?'

'She will not fail, but there will be another...'

'Aye, maybe, you know that the threads of fate are sometimes as strong as steel, other times as fragile as a single strand of wool. But she will have something of us with her always, something of our strength of arms to help her.'

I see the crypts below Winterfell, An older and fatter Robert Baratheon is standing before a statue, with a shock I realize it's of me, he places a feather in the outstretched hand of the statue. He looks up, his eyes moist, pain, loss and a soul empty longing seared into his face.

'Did you have to bury her in a place like this?' he asks; his voice raw with emotion.

I see my brother Ned, older, standing behind this fat and bloated parody of the mighty warrior Robert once was.

'She should be on a hill somewhere, with the sun and the clouds above her' Robert whispers, his voice nearly breaking.

'She was my sister, this is where she belongs' my brother replies, his eyes downcast.

'She belonged with me!' Robert says with a weary bitterness, he reaches up to touch the face of the statue with a tenderness that is heartbreaking 'In my dreams I kill him every night' he pulls his hand away slowly from the statues face.

'It's done your Grace' replies Ned, lifting his face up 'the Targaryen's are gone.

'Not all of them' whispers Robert, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

The vision dissolves into darkness again, to be rapidly replaced with a strange scene, a red haired girl, an arrogant blonde woman and a blonde haired child with a crown on his head, my brother Ned, older, his hair shot with grey was kneeling, his head was removed by a swipe of the Stark's great sword Ice, the red haired girl screaming her denial.

The vision dissolves and is replaced by a simple stone cell, a man in a Maesters robe, but without his chain, is sitting in the darkness, on a bench against the wall opposite him are four glass candles, tall and twisted and with sharp edges. She can sense that the man, and Acolyte of the Maesters is resigned and is dozing off, the candles flicker with a dim light, he jerks awake, confusion on his face, again the candles flicker, brighter this time, before dimming again. A third time they flicker and this time they stay illuminated, steadily increasing in brightness until they are shining with blazing intensity. The man stumbles from the room, his mouth open shouting silently, after a time a gaggle of old men, Maesters all of them with heavy multi linked chains draped around them return, to gaze in wonderment at the bright light pouring from the four glass candles.

I am peering out from flames, I can see a large hall, seven pyres are arranged in a circle in the middle of the hall, on these pyres men and women struggle against their bonds as a red robed priestess lights a torch to the floor, oil has been poured in channels engraved in the floor and the flame races out in lines, so that each pyre lights simultaneously. The pyres must be also drenched with oil as they each ignite instantly, roaring and lighting the room with a frightening, harsh intensity, the crackling of the flames almost drowning out the agonized screams of the poor people being consumed alive by the fire. The red priestess drops her robes, her naked figure slick with sweat as she walks among the pyres.

'I must know!' she shrieks 'I must know of the darkness that has entered the world!'

My viewpoint has shifted, I appear to be standing beyond the circle of the pyres, the unfortunates have thankfully stopped screaming and all that can be heard is the thunderous roaring of the fires. I am naked too, I can feel the stone flags beneath my feet, they feel warm, sweat prickles at my skin from the blazing pyres heat.

The red priestess whirls around, she can see me, her eyes narrow and she screams something incoherent at me, pointing an accusing finger at me. I bare my teeth in response, snarling at the red priestess.

With a lurch my vision changes, as opposed to flame shot darkness and heat there is blinding white vista of snow and ice as far as the eye can see. I am standing on a rocky crag, stones thrust themselves up in some sort of a circle around where I am standing. A voice says from behind me 'Thousands of years ago the First Men battled the White Walkers and defeated them. I want to fight for the side that fights for the living!' Below me a vast horde is moving across the landscape, shambling along with little discipline or formation.

Another voice speaks, gravelly and old sounding, but with conviction 'the real war is not between a few squabbling houses, it's between the living and the dead. And make no mistake, the dead are coming.'

This scene changes to darkness again 'Promise me Ned.'

'I promise.'

'Winter is coming' I hear Ned say.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#14

My eyes snap open, I can feel the room is cooler, dusk is falling as I can see pale wan light filtering through the shutters, I groan and stand up, still feeling unsteady on my feet I walk over to one of the shutters and open it, the twilight air feels wonderful on my skin, on the horizon the full moon sits, its silvery light illuminating the sky around it with its soft radiance. I stare at the moon for a long time, I feel something shifting and stretching under my skin, I gasp and look down at my arms, I can feel muscles shifting and bunching under the skin, but my skin is unblemished and does not writhe the way it feels like it is doing. A howl echoes in the distance, my ears prick up and I almost open my mouth to howl a response. I step back from the window and slam the shutter closed, my hands trembling with fright. I slump to the floor and sit there for I don't know how long, my mind empty, but eventually something stirs in my mind, like an animal pacing behind the bars of its cage and which wants out, it wants to do things, it has energy, desires and needs. It whispers of power, strength, of running through the argent shot night air, a cool breeze streaming through our fur, of chasing prey by their scent on the wind, of running them down and catching them, rending and tearing at their flesh, hot blood filling our mouth.

I blink and give myself a massive start, I stand up, do something, anything, don't let whatever that is out from its cage, howling laughter recedes from my consciousness, leaving in its wake a disturbing jumble of thoughts, memories and beliefs that war with who I know I am. I clutch at my head, a throbbing migraine shimmers in the edges of my vision, visual scarring and shining multicolored lights dance in front of my eyes. I move slowly, seeing a chair I sit down on it and take a few halting, shuddering breaths, steadying myself.

I know I have been dreaming but I cannot remember what they were about, but something has happened, I remember giving birth to a baby, but of it dying shortly after the birth, I never even got to see it, I did not know if it was a boy or a girl. I knew there had been something wrong from almost the moment I knew I was with child, something just felt wrong about the whole thing. The fact that the baby had grown much faster than it should have had terrified me, then the fever had overcame me and I remembered little else except for scattered pieces of consciousness here and there. Tears fall from my eyes unbidden, rolling down my face, cutting rivulets through the grime and blood that coated my face. I am alone and abandoned, in a remote part of Dorne, thousands of leagues away from my home, in the middle of a civil war, I feel the weight of this crushing down on me, all this caused by my stupidity, by me having my head turned by the honeyed words of a Prince.

I can feel it prowling, pacing back and forth at the back of my mind, it wants to be let lose, it wants to exult in its raw physicality, to drown in the sheer experience of being free and unfettered by morals or consequences, its whispering seduction is tempting me to abandon everything to its strength and lose myself. This frightens me, what is this thing that now seems to be sharing my mind? Nan told in whispered legends of Starks who could change into wolves, who shared their souls with those of Direwolves. These men and sometimes women had the strength, speed and cunning of the wolf and were mighty warriors, often the greatest of the Stark's legendary hero's, created by arcane dark and blood soaked rituals to bind the two souls together forever. Father had scoffed of these tales when I had asked about them, I was not so sure now.

I stand up, I have to do something, I am a Stark of Winterfell, of the blood of the First Men, not some delicate southern flower! But what to do? Well escape from here for a start, flee here, taking all that I can and getting away from this prison. North? I suppose so, but travelling alone, as a woman, and in the middle of a realm wide rebellion was bound to be more than a tad dangerous. A voice husked in my mind, reminding me that I had a 'friend' to call upon, and I need not travel as a vulnerable women, that I had another form I could use, it would be good said the whispers, safe to travel this way.

The voice in the back of my head triggers memories of what happened last night, there is nothing I can do to stop them, the beast is reveling in this display of its animal prowess.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#16

All I can do is mutely observe inside my head as the beast shows me in exquisite detail what happened. I rise from the bed there, feeling relaxed, strong, confident, all my muscles and joints seeming as supple as young, green willows, I revel in the sheer physicality of being alive and moving, I stride to the window and open it, feeling the moonlight against my fur is delicious, I shudder with almost sexual pleasure, throwing back my head and howling with the sheer delight. Then I turn my head and descend the stairs, there are men who need to be dealt with, they have imprisoned me here, they have raped me, they would have let me die had it not been for the unsheathing of the wolf like form that I now wore, thoughts burn hot and sharp in my mind, vengeance, only vengeance and a song of claw and teeth fill my whole consciousness.

At the bottom of the stairs is a heavy wooden door, behind it I can hear men moving, hear their heartbeats quicken in fear, I pull my lips back in a smile, feeling my fangs touch the night air, I can smell them also, their distinctive odors, and emanating from all of them the heady scent of fear. I smash a claw into the wooden door, it splinters like it was rotten, blasting inwards in a spray of fragments, one of which has caught the white bull in the head, he goes down screaming in agony. From the darkness of the stairway I survey the scene, part of my mind coolly measuring distances and angles, the men have their swords out, none of this scares me, I know I am faster, stronger than these men, these so called 'knights'.

"Well, well well, what have we here?" I say, without even consciously forming the thought to say anything, and then I step forwards into the room, seeing the shock and horror on the men's faces, the scent of their fear floods the room, I almost shiver with delight at its intoxicating smell.

"Rhaegar the inbreed rapist of Lord Paramount's daughters and the cream of southron chivalry, who prove their honor and martial valor by holding down children to be raped" husks out of my mouth in a growl as I move to a position that will allow me best advantage in the coming butchery.

Rhaegar screams 'Kill It!" and lunges forwards, as do his companions, but they are moving laughably slowly and I howl with delight and thrill of the coming chance to demonstrate my prowess, I dash to the table and hoist it into the air and throw it forwards, towards the onrushing men, its old and heavy but it weighs almost nothing in my hands, I dart to one side as the table crashes into Rhaegar and Whent, knocking both to the floor in a clatter of armor and dropped swords. Dayne is rising from his position beside Hightower, he is not wearing plate armor, silly boy, I rush in at him and before he is even aware of me my claws have raked across his chest and through his boiled leather jerkin, cutting deep into his chest, I spin around and backhand Dawn out of his right arm, hearing bones break with a sound like breaking green twigs, Dayne howls in pain, his agony music to my ears, I grab Dawn before it falls to the ground and with a casual slice behead Gerold Hightower. Dayne slides to the floor clutching his ruined arm, his face a rictus of agony. That is two of the bastards dealt with, I turn and advance on Rhaegar and Whent, who have just extracted themselves from under the table I just threw at them.

They see me wielding Dawn and advance cautiously, one to either side, I throw Dawn away and roar a challenge at them, Whent coming in first with a blindingly fast vertical chop that would have bisected me had I been in the place where it descended through, instead I sidestepped to one side and moved in close to Whent, moving so fast that he probably did not even see me properly. He was wearing plate so I confined myself to punching him in the side, hard enough to dent his armour. He collapses away from me, with probably a few broken ribs and I turn to face Rhaegar Targaryen, who is just about to stick me in the back with his sword, I twist and avoid his thrust, skipping back out of his reach.

"Sticking someone in the back Rhaegar, not very honorable now is it" I snarl at him, dancing away from another swipe of his blade. His attacks are lethally swift but seem slow and clumsy to my senses, I want to toy with him, but Arthur Dayne is trying to lever himself up and join his Prince, no I want to savor this, to replay with interest the pain this moronic, pathetic Dragon had inflicted on me. I dart away, pick up a chair and smash it to pieces against a wall, grabbing one stout leg like a club, part of me gets annoyed at having a weapon in my hand, it wants to do things 'the old fashioned way', with claw and tooth.

I hurl the wooden chair leg at Rhaegar and as he ducks to avoid it I dart forwards, too fast for him to react to and I grab his head in my claws and tear my teeth into his face, ripping away the skin of his face in a few frenetic bites, I spit out the skin despite wanting to swallow it, Rhaegar staggers away and collapses to the floor, his hands at his ruined face, screaming a high pitched wail of agony, he will be screaming at a much higher pitch when I'm finished with him...

I grab the wooden chair leg and in two short strides I am towering over Whent, I smash down the wooden club a few times and pulp his skull, good enough, he will not be moving ever again. Dayne has managed to get back on his feet and he is stumbling towards where Dawn lies discarded on the floor. I turn to him and reach out with my arms with lightening fast slashing strikes, each strike gouging deep gashes in the man's side, back and legs, he turns to face me to try and ward of my blows, and only gets a few more bone deep slashes for his troubles. He slumps back from me, weak from the loss of blood and collapses to the floor, falling to rest semi upright against the wall.

I walk over to Dawn where it lies and pick it up, and I kneel down in front of Dayne, his eyes barely focusing from the pain and loss of blood "You want this don't you?" I asked.

The man nodded his head, I could see the effort that even that took out of him "You can have it Sword of the Morning, but first, you must not slouch so, it's uncouth." With that I grab Dayne by the neck and lift him up. Rising with him I grip Dawn's pommel hard and shove the sword up between his dangling legs and up into the knight, castrating him on the way as I thrust the blade all the way up to the hilt inside him. He does not even have the energy to scream as the sword tip erupts from his shoulder, I lower him back to the ground saying "that should help you sit up straight now won't it?"

I hear Rhaegar moan behind me and I turn to him "Don't worry my love, I have not forgotten about you!" I reply as I stride over to him.

Luckily I break the hold that the wolf thing has over me before we get to that particular bit and I jerk my head up, shaking it from side to side, hearing howling laughter recede to the back of my mind.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#17

I stand up and stretch, something definitely feels different about my body, I've been cooped up in this Gods dammed tower for months now, bedridden for over two weeks, I should be stiff, out of shape, instead I feel alive, supple, my muscles taut and sleek, even the act of walking and feeling them bunch and slide under my skin is a pleasure, an experience to be savored, enjoyed, luxuriated in.

There is a jug of water on a table beside the bed, I walk over to it and use it to wash myself off as best as I can, as my hands scrub myself I notice that my body is definitely different, it feels harder somehow, tight, like a bowstring pulled taut.

I approach the mirror again, this time not shying away, yes I am different, my waist is slimmer, narrower, my stomach is as flat as a plate of iron, no sign that I have just given birth, none of the rounded softness that I had as a maid, I touch my stomach just above my belly button, unyielding, like living stone, my arms and legs swell with muscles, not bulging like a man's, but definitely there, hard and sculpted, I raise an arms, my biceps and triceps slide and bunch under my skin, a not unpleasable feeling accompanies this. I turn to the side, my legs are equally toned and as I move I see the muscles move smoothly under my skin. My bum is pert, perter than it has ever been, I pinch it gently, all muscle, not a bit of fat or sag. I turn back full front, my breasts are larger also, they have grown from a decent handful to several handfulls, but they stand proud and shapely, I smile, there is not a man alive who would not be captivated by them. I run my hands over my thighs and legs, the skin is unnaturally smooth, almost like a babies, no hairs mar its surface, under my arm is equally hairless, strange. I look at my face, its subtly different, my chin is slightly smaller, my mouth is wider, lips fuller, my check bones are more prominent, my eyes look larger, in their blue depths golden shards flash, I blink, I had long eyelashes before, they seem even longer and thicker if that is possible. I shake my head, my hair, a rich chestnut which if now if anything thicker, more luxurious, darker in color but with what appeared to be natural highlights of mahogany, russet, red and honey blonde.

I gaze at myself in the mirror for long minutes, I am not a vain woman, but I know I am beautiful, I decide that if anything I am more attractive, I smile, Robert Baratheon will not be able to keep his eyes off me. Then I scowl at my reflection, his inability to keep his hands off any female had been a big part of the reason that I 'ran away' with Rhaegar in the first place. I sigh and shake my head, I was a stupid little girl, a fool, and I caused a war, oh some southron princesses would probably be delighted at the thought of armies marching for their hand in marriage, but not me. I am a Stark, I am of the First Men and the North, and I'm something else now, I know this now for certainty, I am not just Lyanna Stark anymore, something shares my skin with me, something that hungers and thirsts.

It is time to move, I cannot spend any more time gazing at my naked form in a mirror, the bedroom is on the top floor, below is the room that resembles an abattoir, I descend further down the next flight of stairs, there are several rooms on this level, where the fuckers guarding me slept, the place stinks of their scent. Below is a kitchen and food storage area, I had a quick rummage around, not much in the way of food, some dried sausages, some loaves of bread, some tomatoes and olives in earthenware jars, a few jars of olive oil and large jars of water, that appeared to be it. I went down onto the next level, the entrance hall of the tower, there were steps descending down further to the basement, I shrugged my shoulders, what the seven hells, what did I have to be scared of anyway? I descend into the darkness.

Only it was not dark, even though it was night and I carried no torch, I saw clearly enough in the dark, though I seemed to be seeing only in black, white and shades of grey. I descended down into the basement, nothing of interest, some unidentifiable junk that might once have been furniture, or could equally have been agricultural equipment of some sort, all covered in a layer of dust. But something was tugging at my consciousness, something smelt wrong about this place, there was another scent apart from stone, wood, dust and mice droppings in the air, the faintest of faint smells of something metallic, something that set my nose twitching, not just metallic, there was something else about the smell that was driving my curiosity wild.

I searched the room, finding nothing, the smell was tantalizing in the air, but I could not find its source, frustrated I turned to head back up when I noticed something, some of the stonework low down on the far wall looked 'different' something about it looks just a tiny bit different to the rest of the cellar. I hurried over, placing my hands against them, sniffing the air frantically. Yes the metallic smell was defiantly stronger here, I ran my hands over the stones, something felt odd about them, I gave them a hard push and to my amazement they moved a little. I gave them another push, nothing, I pushed again and several of the stones slid back revealing a small space.

I bent down and looked into the space; a rotting bag of coins greeted me, stuffed full of golden Dragons, the bag and burst and spilled them. I pulled the bag towards me, scooping up the spilled coins, behind there was something else wrapped up in an oil cloth. I pulled it out, and unwrapped it, a dagger with a dragon bone handle. I bent down again and peered into the space, yes, it went off to one side out of view, I thrust my hand into the space, reaching in, my fingers brushed against rough cloth, I snagged it with my fingers, whatever it was it was not heavy, but as I try and drag it seems to be big enough. It takes several attempts to get a good hold on it, until I slowly drag it out from the recess. It's a rough cloth bag, I open it and inside is an oil cloth bundle, I unwrap it and black chain mail gleans back at me, it is very, very light, it almost weighs nothing in my hands. There is also another bundle in the bag, I unwrap it, richly decorated clothes spill out into my hands.

I bring my haul back up to my bedroom and I light a candle to examine it, the Dragons are old, on one side they bear the three headed Dragon symbol of House Targaryen, the other side bore the three headed visage of Aegon Targaryen and his two sisters. These coins are old, from the time immediately after the conquest then. I next take up the dagger, I unsheathe it, Valyrian steel glitters in the candle light, it is a two edged dagger, a little broad looking compared to other daggers that I have seen. I heft it, it weighs very little but is perfectly balanced, I flick it around and play with it, in Winterfell growing up I had insisted that I had been taught how to handle a dagger. I throw it across the room, aiming at a spot in the door of one of the wardrobes, the dagger embeds itself to its hilt exactly in the spot that I wanted to hit. A smile breaks out on my face, next I examine the chain mail, I whistle to myself, it's also made from Valyrian steel, I hold it up to the light, its gleams lustrously, it looks to be quite small, maybe made for a boy, or a woman.

I next examine the clothes, they appear to be made from some sort of shiny black leather, wondrously soft and supple, whose surface shines like it is oiled, but which is dry to the touch. There are boots, trousers and a shirt, the shirt has a scalloped bottom at the sides, coming down lower at the front and back than at the sides. I walk to over to the wardrobe and root around, pulling out some small clothes, remove the embedded dagger from the wood and walk back over to the clothes and armor. I pull on the trousers, they fit me very snugly, I pull the shirt on over my head and then pull on the chain mail, finally I pull on the boots. Everything fits very well, almost as if it was made for me. Also in the oil cloth is a sword belt, decorated with gems and gold inlay, I strap it on over the chain mail, there is a clasp at the back where I can attach the scabbard for my knife, I twist around and after a few tries I clip the scabbard in place.

I stretch and move around, everything feels good, fits right, I can move around unimpeded in my new clothes.

I look at myself in the mirror, it looks good on me, somehow right...from the back of mind something whispers that I would look much better in fur.

Jul 10, 2017

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#18

I sat on a horse as my little caravan trotted away from the now blazing Tower of Joy, there had been eight horses in the stables attached to the base of the tower, the poor things had shied away from me when I first approached them, they smelt the wolf on me, they were kicking and neighing frantically as I had approached, eyes rolling wildly in their heads, I knew that the horses were seconds away from panicking and probably injuring themselves fatally trying to kick themselves out of the stables and away from me.

I used all my knowledge about horses and how to handle them, but only four of the horses stopped their clamor to escape and settled down, their eyes though still rolled wildly as I approached, I reached up and patted the nearest one to reassure it, that seemed to calm it down so I led it outside, along with the other three that were reasonably calm. The others were neighing and trashing wildly at my presence, nothing I could do would calm them. I left them be, I had no time to spend trying to get them to obey me and not be terrified by me.

I then spent the rest of the night stripping the tower of what might be useful, not much really, some clothes and gear that would be useful on the journey North, I had found a sword that I liked the heft of, a rather unremarkable looking sword, smaller than any of the Swords that the Kingsguard had on them, and more suited to my frame.

I also had Dawn wrapped up in a cloth and strapped to one of the saddlebags, I needed it to reinforce my story of having escaped by killing the Kingsguard, but not my story of transforming into a creature out of myth and using my teeth and claws to kill them! I bit my lip, maybe taking Dawn was not such a good idea, maybe I should just leave it and spin a story of the Tower having been attacked by bandits and of me escaping. I snorted at the idea, the thing in my head was equally insulted at the thought of this, no, we would not be telling a story of slinking away in the night. A plan began to form, it contained the modicum of truth and a good, thick cloak of lies, it would have to do for the moment, I would think on it later on in more detail.

My new clothes are comfortable and warm in the Dornish dawn and as the sun rises I notice that they are not as hot as black leathers should be, for which I am grateful.

With my newfound strength and stamina stripping the tower had taken little time, as had dousing every flammable item in olive oil and spreading timber and tinder throughout the structure to encourage the quick spread of fire. The bodies of Rhaegar and his slain companions, I did nothing for them, as far as I was concerned they could rot, but burning them with the tower made sense, so I made sure that I doused them in as much oil as I could spare.

I did not know if Rhaegar had men who knew I was in the Tower nearby, did the Dornish even know I was there? What would be the reaction to finding the tower and the bodies? Hopefully burnt enough to hide how they had died, but then if I was unlucky maybe not.

As dawn broke I ate some food, watered the horses and let then graze a little, I pulled out the sword that I had decided to take along, It was an Arming Sword of gleaming, castle forged steel. The other swords were frankly too large for me, oh I could heft them easily enough, but their size and inertia made them unwieldy for what I wanted. I knew I was fast, that was going to be how I fought if I needed to, so a smaller sword was ideal. I took it out of its scabbard, which I had attached to my belt, the sunlight flashed off its surface as is swept it around me in a series of quick slashes and parry's.

I had often watched my father and Brandon sparring in the courtyard at Winterfell, it was as if I could feel what they had done time without number in training, like my muscles 'knew' what they were doing. After a few minutes I stopped, re-sheathed the sword and continued on my journey.

The sun crawled up into the sky and the temperature steadily rose as I made my way along the dusty track northwards, surrounded on two sides by the forbidding and majestic Red Mountains of Dorne.

As I trek northwards I wonder about how I will evade any patrols or watchtowers, the land is barren, thinly forested and populated, with nowhere really to hide or shelter. I would have to rely upon luck and hopefully not too much upon my new companion, who was becoming ever more active, I could feel her digging around in my mind, rooting through memories, I got the distinct impression of like the way the hounds in Winterfell would circle several times before settling down to sleep, that my 'guest' was making herself at home.

So what was I to do? I had to get out of Dorne for a start, I thanked the Gods both Old and New that I had listened to the Maester's lessons on geography and the various Noble Houses that dotted Westeros. I knew I was in the Prince's Pass and that heading north I would eventually come close to Nightsong, seat of House Carron and sworn to Storms End, and apparently loyal to Robert, from what I had overheard of the Kingsguard talking. Once there I could get a Raven sent to my family and to Robert letting them know where I was.

After that, what is there to do? What am I to do with my new affliction for a start? I know that it was my guest that killed Rhaegar and the Kingsguard, wearing its half wolf, half man shape, which lurked beneath my skin. How did it get 'free' of me, would it do it again? Could I control it? What was this thing that lurked in my mind and flesh, was it some evil spirit, or was it the spirit of the wolf that was said to dwell in all Stark's made flesh? I was certainly gifted with new physical abilities, but what was the extent of them, what was their limits. And was there any cost to using them? I would have to answer all these questions, and soon.

Then there was the matter of my betrothal to Robert Baratheon, my brother Ned's best friend and probably to be crowned King, well certainly now that Rhaegar was dead at my hand, what with Areys being mad he did not command the same level of support as Rhaegar had. If I went through with the betrothal that would make me queen, but what of Robert's ardent intent to live his life by the 3 F's, Fighting, Feasting and Fucking? How many bastards had he already sired that I did not know of? He was at war, he was sure to be consorting with Whores in his camp, and possibly even taking a mistress or two along the way for comfort. I would not put up with such behavior, I was not some snotty nosed southron princess who would cry and sniffle at this, oh no! If Robert wanted to share my bed then by the Old Gods he would not stray, I would damm well be enough for him, he better not think to find comfort elsewhere!

My wolfish companion grunted her agreement at this, slyly insinuating that such an alpha as Robert would surely be chased by many other females, and that I would have to show my strength to be his alpha female. I grinned at that thought, Robert Baratheon was going to rue the day he ever laid eyes on me, for if you take a wolf to bed, you have to expect to get scratched and bitten...

I was so lost in thought that I failed until the very last moment to see the party of dismounted horsemen blocking the road ahead, Targaryen banners flapping in the hot summer wind.

'Fuck'.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#19

There are five of them, all in chainmail armour and with hard, weather beaten faces, no peasant levies these lads, I do not like the look of this. At least they are dismounted, which seems to decide things for me.

"Halt" says their leader, "who are you and state your business!"

I feel something expand within my mind, blossoming out to reach into every part of my brain, conscious thought flees, I could not even tell you my name or that two and two make four. But I can tell you that as I dismount and stride towards them I know which one I will cut down first, the one on my extreme left hand side, the one that I am already sliding across towards.

I notice that none of them have bows or crossbows, nor do they have lances but they do have spears, several are tied up to the saddles of their horses. Their beasts of course decide suddenly to react to my presence and start to neigh and buck, trying to run away even though they are hobbled.

This is just the diversion I need and I accelerate forwards, drawing my sword and decapitating the soldier in front of me in one single stroke. I'm on his companion before he has time to register what has happened and I ram my sword into his neck and push him off the end of the blade, facing the leader of the group.

His sword slashes at me, I don't have time to jump out of the way so I parry his blow, his two companions are drawing their swords and spreading out to advance on me from both sides. I let the momentum of parrying the blow spin me around, I stab backwards and downwards with my sword, burying it into the man's leg just above his kneecap, I jerk the blade back up and he screams in agony and falls away, out of the fight. One of the soldiers drops his sword in fright and darts away, running for the tied up horses, I ignore him for now, I can smell his fear, a heady scent in my nostrils, he is out of the fight for good.

I face the last Targaryen soldier, who carried an oval shield and a long sword. He feints and slashes, he is experienced, his eyes never leave mine as we probe and slash at each other. I will defeat him eventually, I'm faster, stronger and have greater endurance than him, but I don't have time, his companion cannot be allowed flee and raise the alarm.

But how to end the fight? I race inwards, batting his sword thrust aside and I collide with his shield, while stamping down on his foot, the soldier is shoved off balance by my move and falls back to the ground, with me standing on his foot it twists and snaps with a audible crack, a howl of pain erupts from the man's mouth. I jump up off his foot and dance forwards, stabbing my sword down and into his open, screaming mouth, abruptly silencing him forever. I look around, the man with the sword wound in his leg is sprawled in the dirt, trying to fasten a makeshift tourniquet above the wound. I race over to the tied up horses, they are neighing their terror at my approach, I have to make sure one of the beasts does not kick me senseless.

I grab a spear and heft it, running down the track after the soldier riding away as fast as he can, I speed up and hurl the spear up into the air as hard as I can, watching it arc up into the clear blue sky and reach its apogee, before it tipped over and fell, falling downwards until it punched through the chain mail of the soldiers back and he stumbled forwards and fell from his mount into the dirt, a scream reaching my ears a second later.

With that I give a massive start, I tremble all over, something slides back into the recesses of my mind, and conscious thought is possible again, but something is not right, there is a definite 'presence' in my mind now, I am not alone.

My wolf companion is fully awake and she wants out, I feel my body twist and shudder in almost sexual pleasure, suddenly I know what is coming, but I cannot stop it. With trembling hands, shuddering with an almost uncontrollable palsy I unbuckle my sword belt, pull my chain mail over my head and tear at my clothes.

The Targaryen soldier lying in the dirt starts to shout obscenities at me as I barely get out of my clothes and boots, standing naked in front of him I double over in pain, gasping at the tearing and grinding that was coursing through me.

"Gagging for me cock luv are ya?" shouts the soldier from where he lies in the dirt of the road.

What straightens up and smiles at the soldier wears the skin of Lyanna Stark but it is no longer her, gold flecks in her blue eyes seem to catch the sunlight and across her naked form muscles and bones seem to be writhing under her skin.

Horror shows on the man's face, it soon turns to screaming as the naked girl transforms into something else, something out of the darkest nightmare, fur sprouts from her pale, flawless flesh, her legs change shape, bowing and stretching with wet, tearing sounds, her fingers elongate, her nails becoming talons.

But her face! Oh Gods, her face! Her beauty had disappeared, slowly replaced by a snarling wolf like visage, that had elongated out of her skull, fangs drooling and mobile ears twitching above her head. The thing that the young girl has become stands upright on its hind legs, its stance slightly hunched forwards.

The soldier stops screaming through his now hoarse throat as the creature blinks and turns it gaze to him.

'Oh no my lovely" it husks at him through leathery lips "I don't want to fuck you, I want to eat you!"

The soldier's final shriek of terror is brutally cut short as it echoes off the silent, uncaring hill's.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#21

I will have nightmares about what happened earlier on for many nights to come I am sure, afterwards I dragged the bodies of the Targaryen soldiers to a small copse of struggling, stunted looking trees a few hundred feet from the road and dumped their bodies in a shallow depression at the center of the copse. There was not much left of any of them really, just pieces, but I moved them anyway. I stole the small amount of coin that they had on them, along with their spears, and headed on north again, their horses were too wary of me to bother trying to add to my coterie.

By nightfall I had come across a substantial looking village, good stone buildings and paved streets, with a large central square, above me the stars blazed in the heavens and the moon rode high and full, its sliver light seemed to brush my skin with soft caresses, whispering to let slip the bond of my human form and run free and without care under the stars.

There is a rather rowdy tavern, as there always is in these places, it probably survives on passing traffic, such as myself. I stable my horses, pay for a room and a meal and trudge upstairs to my room. The proprietor smirks at me when I pay, there is something in his eyes that I don't like. This fellow, Cerwin was his name, rambled on about something called 'bedroom tax' and that if you paid it you got a better class of bedroom. I did not quibble, handing over a Gold Dragon without complaint, but leaning close and whispering "I do not wish to be disturbed, and I would appreciate it if my presence here was not noted... I will be returning here in a Moon's time, and probably several more times this year, there will be another one like this for you every time I stay here, and ten more when I visit for the last time..."

Avarice sparks in the man's eyes, hopefully he will believe my lie and keep his mouth shut, at least long enough for me to be long gone by the time someone might think to come and look for me.

Nor do I particularly like the look of some of the clientele, who look and smell rough and dangerous, especially those three scruffy looking cut throats sitting over in the corner and quietly drinking, whose eyes were dead but which missed nothing.

Though something inside me tells me that this silent trio are the most dangerous, some of the rest of the men drinking are not so quiet, nor so discrete. I can feel hot glances upon me, one of them even shouting "How much for your new whore Cerwin!" to uproarious laughter. I feel my ears burn bright red, I sense a scowl from my wolfish companion, she wants to rend and tear them to pieces for thinking that they can mock her. I stamp down on this, I've no wish to transform here and go on a bloody rampage, no matter what the whispers in my head that insinuate how good it would be, how pleasurable it would be to kill with claw and fang.

Maybe I should have gone south instead and then either east or west, to hire a ship at either Starfall or on the shores of the Sea of Dorne. I discard that option again, too much travel through a potentially hostile realm, too much chance of discovery, too much travel across unfamiliar lands. No, north into the south western corner of the Stormlands and Nightsong was the best option.

Despite the rather down at heel look of the place the room is well appointed and comfortable looking, typically Dornish in that it gave out onto a central courtyard via a small balcony. The court yard had deep overhanging eves for shade and many large pots planted with flowers and small shrubs. A bath comes with the price of the room and board; I head back downstairs to the bath room, where a naked girl awaits me beside a trough cut into the stone floor.

I start a little, but shrug my head and strip my armor and clothes and slip into the hot water, the girl joins me and starts to wash me, she is very beautiful, older by a few namedays, about the same height as me and fuller bodied, her hair is a light nut brown color. She washes me in silence, her eyes are pale brown and seem huge in the semi darkness of the bath room, her lips are very full in her face, a pink tongue darts behind them. She seems nervous, I smell her nervousness which overlays her scent, a spicy scent that I very much like the smell of, I feel stirrings that I have only rarely ever had before emerge.

The girl seems to notice this, a flush deepens across her chest , her breathing becomes shallow, her pupils are huge and dark in her eyes, slightly unfocused looking.

"What is your name my Lady" she asks, her voice husky.

"I am no lady" I reply, "You may call me...you may call me Sanna."

"Yes La...yes Mistress Sanna."

"And you?" I ask, a hand reaching out under the water in the bath trough to cup a heavy breast.

She gasps at my touch "Taria...ahhhhh"

I move closer and our bodies touch with a spark of pleasure that has me biting my lip, I did fool around with some of the other girls of my age in Winterfell when I was younger, the odd bit of kissing and petting in the hay loft of the stables, but nothing like this.

I want her, this wench, who is probably a whore on the payroll of the Inn, I need her, I need to possess her, to have her.

I move my hand from her breast up her chest, up her neck, my touch light, my fingers tracing her jaw line, before they slide along under her ear to lightly hold her neck, my other hand rests on her hip, enjoying the feel of her ample curves. Our bodies touch in the warm water, skin to skin, her round softness wonderful against me.

"So Taria?" I whisper "why should I pay for something that you so obviously desire?"

"You have already paid" she gasps "On your bill, it's covered under the 'bedroom tax' that Crewin would have told you about."

I silence the girl with another kiss, our lips softly pulling and biting, our tongues teasing.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#22

I hear a scream and I jerk awake in the hot darkness of a Dornish night, the insects buzzing and chirping loud in the courtyard. I climb out of bed, Taria is gone and I dress quickly. We had shared a meal in the room earlier on, neither of us had much appetite for food, being much more interested in resuming where we had left off in the bath room. A smile on my lips at those thoughts died when I heard the unmistakable sound of metal clinking on metal, I took several deep breaths and let my senses expand.

The three thugs from earlier on in the Bar Room were edging quietly along the corridor outside, weapons drawn, I could smell them, stale unwashed bodies, the anticipation of having their way with me, and something else, blood, blood still wet their blades.

I barely repress a snarl, only keeping my wolf under control by the greatest effort of willpower. I promise her blood though, there will be blood split here in the next few seconds. I feel my brain calm, and a feeling like something expanding outwards to fill my entire body in a soothing, almost hypnotic balm.

The door to my room opens outwards to the left, the three thugs are approaching from the left side, inching up the corridor, close to the inside wall. I wait, wait and then grab the door handle and bang the door open just at the right time with all my strength.

The first thug is brained by the heavy oak and iron banded door, literally having the front of his skull dove in by the door, had he lived longer than the twenty seconds that he did after this, he would have spent the rest of his days as a gibbering moron.

He crashed back into the next thug behind him, probably his brother given the similarity in looks, who goes down in a tumble of limbs and dropped swords. The third thug, and obviously the leader of this little cut throat band jumps back with a curse and then launches himself at me, striking fast and hard. He is quick and strong I will give him that, and the narrow corridor constrains our fight, the thug is much more experienced in these types of fights and he drives me back down the corridor, away from the open door of my room.

The second thug is coming to his feet and picks up his sword, I simply cannot let things go on much longer. Both men wear cheap, boiled leather with small iron plates sewn into it, it only covers their torsos, they don't appear to be wearing any chain or plate, an unlikely extravagance for these crooks. I duck under the latest swing of the man and ram my sword forwards low, slicing into him just under his armour and into his stomach, his eyes widen in shock, I smash into him and pull back my sword, letting him fall screaming, trying to push back his guts into himself as they spilled out of the gash in his abdomen.

I leap low over his form and confront the next man, turning aside his sword thrust with a parry, he lunges forwards, throwing me off balance, I scramble backwards, as soon as I have regained my balance I launch a flurry of quick, short swipes. The man backs away again, inviting me onto his blade. I accept the challenge, immediately seeing the trap, a thrown knife flashes past my face, I smile in return, two can play at that game, I reach behind me and in one fluid sweep throw my knife at him, it embeds itself in his forehead, his eyes roll up in their sockets and he collapses as if the strings holding him up have been cut.

The leader is sobbing and crying, slumped on the floor his hands trembling over the slash in his lower gut through which coils of wet, bright pink intestines are spilling out of. I approach him and he spits an incoherent curse at me, I respond by back slashing my sword at him, intending to decapitate him. Unfortunately he pulls his head away, my strike only succeeds in cutting through the flesh of his mouth, I try again but his head will not stay still, my sword bites into the top of his head, cutting off a flap of skin and bone.

I turn away from him, he is not going anywhere ever again, let him die in the stink of his own guts, I step over the second man, retrieving my dagger, the man I hit with the door is slumped on the floor, his face pulped and he is making incoherent gurgling sounds. These cease when I ram my sword through the ruined socket of his left eye.

There is nothing in my room, so I stride down the hall, at the top of the stairs lies the slumped form of the proprietor, a bloody mess. A door just beyond where I am standing is slightly ajar, I see an eye gaze out at me. The door slowly opens, Taria emerging, trembling with fear.

We stare at each other for what seems like ages but is only a few seconds

"I am leaving now" I say to the girl.

"Take me with you!" Taria blurts out, her face suddenly flushed "there is nothing for me here..."

I ponder this for a moment and say "let's go" and Taria nods her head.

"I will get my things" she replies, returning in a few minutes with a small bundle.

We enter the stable, untie my horses and we mount up, heading out into the night, leaving the town behind.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#23

I decide that the road is probably too dangerous, up ahead I can see forests start to cloak the sides and floor of the Prince's Pass, we trek across country to try and reach them before dawn. Taria marvels at my ability to see in the dark, I say nothing in return, the girl is quiet for most of the journey, subdued.

As dawn begins to break we reach a small gully short of the start of the forest, I leave the horses hobbled in the gully and set about making a camp on the rim of the gully with good views and reasonable cover. I pitch a rough lean-to in the shelter of a large rock, share some bread with Taria before telling her to get some sleep, we will rest during the day and travel at night from now on until we cross into the Stormlands.

I bite my lip at the thought of crossing into the Stormlands, what state will they be in? Will they have risen for Robert and followed him? Will they have stayed loyal to the Crown? Will the Kingdom be riven with war, strife and danger?

The girl nods in response and turns in, maybe bringing her with me was a bad idea, she would slow me down, she might be used against me, she certainly could not fight like I could, and what if she saw me transform? And what might I do to her then? I pull off my chain mail, headed down to the horses and rummage through the packs for some of the clothes I looted from the Tower of Joy, clothes that the Kingsguard would no longer be needing. They are far too big for me but the trousers and doublet are in muted colors, perfect for keeping watch and blending into the dun colored landscape.

Taria is asleep when I return and start my vigil, I don't keep watch the whole time, every few minutes I take a peek out and quarter the landscape, looking for movement. The odd bit of traffic passes down the road, a coach, several wagons, a farmer driving sheep. I let my mind wander, my companion seems to be quiescent, I probe lightly, not wanting to wake the beast, an image of a black furred wolf curled up asleep floats through my mind.

I stew and ruminate on my situation, feeling my frustration grow, mainly at myself and my actions. I take out my sword from its scabbard where it lies beside me and cut my palm, hissing in pain, watching the blood drip onto the dry dirt below. I look at my hand, at the flap of flesh opened across my palm, I clench my fist, then unclench it, the blood has stopped flowing, I watch in amazement as the wound knits together before my very eyes, in mere minutes there is no mark on my flesh, no evidence that I had once sliced open my palm.

This is yet another thing to ponder as I return to my vigil, above me the sun beats down and bakes the land, I can smell rabbits nearby, and hear their burrowing.

About midday I begin to feel myself dozing off in the heat, I wake Taria, explaining to her how to keep watch, she is wearing a rather shapeless brown shift that will help hide her as she keeps a look out.

"What?" I ask, rather harshly, seeing the girl flinch, "what is it Taria?" I ask again in a softer voice.

"Who, who are you?" she asks, her lower lip trembling.

"It is better that you do not know who I am, for both of our sakes" I reply softly.

"What are you then? You are a woman who has killed before, I know, you are a warrior, in Dorne we let women do more than in the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, but you..." her voice trails off.

"I was a silly, hot headed girl who ran away from home on the promise of a boy" I smiled wanly "I'm not silly anymore..."

With that I crawled over to my bedroll, formerly belonging to Oswell Whent and wrap myself in it to try and grab some sleep.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#24

I am walking through the courtyard at Winterfell, beside me a black wolf trots easily; nobody seems to be able to see us.

'That's because this is a dream, Lyanna Stark' growls the Wolf at my side.

I jolt at this, surprise showing on my face.

'Do you know who I am Lyanna Stark?' the wolf asks.

I nod my head, yes, I do know who this wolf is.

'Good, that saves on tiresome introductions. You and I now inhabit the same skin, we are two souls in a single body, over time we will merge, you will become me and I will become you. A new being will walk in the skin that was once yours, and a terrible beauty has been born Lyanna Stark.'

I should feel terror at this, fear, I should scream my denial, but I cannot, my mouth will not open, I cannot form the words of rejection.

'You fear this, you fear that you will no longer be you?' the wolf asks.

I nod my head.

'Fear not, you will always be you, and I will always be me also, it is just that together we will be more than the total of our parts. You gain the strength, courage and senses of the wolf while you are in human form, when we change to our wolfen form, I get the gifts of your intelligence, your memories, your ability to reason. You should pity me Lyanna Stark, you get the best of this bargain by far, I will never be able to run free and wild on my four paws ever again, to know not a care beyond where my next meal was and if my pups will grow strong! '

'Rhaegar...'

'Ah yes, that boy who thought he was a Prince...' replies the wolf.

'What you did to him, to his Kingsguard...'

'No, what we did to them was fuelled by your memories, your hatred. You would have died upon that bed of blood Lyanna Stark had not the fires of our joining cooled enough to let our newly wrought form free. When I awoke, all I had were your memories, your passions, your hatred's. Those men hurt you, and they thus had hurt me, us. I am a wolf, we do not let such things pass easily without repaying in kind what was done to us...'

'And my abilities with a sword, and at fighting in general?'

'Your blood, your memories of watching your brothers sparring, and something of your father and brothers skill at arms was mixed into us when we were joined. The fell magicks necessary to create us required blood sacrifice Lyann Stark, you have not been given these gifts as a triffle...But enough of that, with your speed and strength you are now a formidable warrior, probably the best in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms!'

I grunt a reply, but before I can ask anymore questions up ahead I spot Ned and Benjen sparring, I smile, they are young boys, this dream looks to be set a few years ago. I feel a lump in my throat, nostalgia taking me close to tears, this was before it all went wrong, before Harrenhall...

I hear hoof beats and turn, my younger self rides into the courtyard on a white horse, Ned saying 'Stop showing off!' as I ride around Ned, Benjen and Rodrik.

'Lyanna!' exclaims Benjen in annoyance.

My younger self dismounts as Benjen says 'Would you get out of here, we're sparring!'

'Who are you going to Spar with when Ned goes off to the Eyrie?' my younger self asks.

A raven screeches from where it sits on one of the wooden balcony's that surround the courtyard.

'That raven is not what it seems' says the wolf at my side, barring its fangs and snarling at the bird, who screeches again.

The dream shifts and warps, I find myself in my father's Solar, Brandon is present, as is an old man, dressed in what looks like rags.

'And you are sure Greenseer?' my father asks the old man in a voice weighty with sadness.

'Yes, the debt that the Starks owe to the Children of the Forest, it is time.'

'But why, why her?' asks my father, anguish on his face.

'The weave of fate, the skeins of destiny, these are often beyond our ken as mortals. Your ancestors made a pact, blood oaths were exchanged, it is time.'

'What is going on?' I ask the wolf in a whispered hiss.

'There is no need to whisper Lyanna Stark, they cannot hear you. The what and the how of it does not really matter, this is where it starts for us.'

'Why me?' I ask.

'You are of the blood, the wolf lies dormant in your flesh Lyanna Stark, it welcomed me when we were joined, it awoke to welcome its kindred.'

'And the blood sacrifice needed? What of it?' asks Brandon, anger in his words, his right hand squeezing the pommel of his sword until his fingers turn white.

'When the time comes, you will know what is needed, the ritual itself can only be preformed when the auspices are right. Do nothing that you would not do normally, when the time is right, you will know...'

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#27

"Sanna, Sanna, wake up!" Taria is roughly pushing at me.

I sit up, blinking sleep from my eyes, it is early twilight from the look of the sky, my dream fades away from me, the memory of it swirling into nothing more substantial than smoke.

"Lots of men, down on the road!" she nods were head in the direction of the road.

I hold my hand out to tell her to stay down and inch forwards to peer from beside a boulder. Down below on the road there is about a hundred or so mounted men, Targaryen, Martell and several other banners I don't recognize are flapping in the wind as they trot along the road. A few Knights from what I can see, but the majority men-at-arms, all well armed from the look of it with shields and tall spears.

I wonder if they are a search party for me, or something else?

I watch them travel down the road and finally out of sight behind a hill.

"Are there anymore towns between here and the border with the Stormlands?" I ask.

"I don't know Sanna, I was not here very long, I grew up in Sunspear, far to the south of here."

I sigh in frustration, wondering again why I did not try and head south and take passage on a ship, and why I took this girl with me. I roll back away from the boulder and sit up, looking at Taria "We will wait a while until we set off, no use in blundering into anyone by accident."

Myself and Taria eat some bread and hard sheep's milk cheese, we wait until true darkness falls before setting out again, we will be travelling through the forest up ahead, I do not want to risk the roads. I will be able to see perfectly well in the darkness but the horses and Taria will struggle I know. I realize that this idea of mine to go through the forest at night is a bad idea, borne of my inexperience and overconfidence in my newfound abilities. A string of curses fills my mind, I cannot afford to make these mistakes, but there is no turning back, at least for tonight.

Taria is looking at me furtively, thinking that I do not notice her glances, it is making me nervous, are her glances of lust, fear, or something else entirely.

"What Taria?" I ask, turning my head towards her.

The girl gasps as I turn my gaze on her, I can smell a sudden rush of fear from her.

"Your, your eye's..."

"What about them?" I ask, having to push down a snarl, in my head I feel something uncoil and stretch.

"Some, sometimes they flash with a golden fire...what are you?" the girl whispers, terror in her voice.

Unbidden and without conscious thought I hear myself saying "I am the sleeper that has awoken, the final guardian of the realms of man, I am the Wolf at the Dawn!"

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#28

We trudge carefully through the forest, I can see well enough, in fact I can see like it is noon in bright sunlight, but the horses are nervous, and Taria is only answering any whispered comment or orders with monosyllabic replies. The forest smells old, tired, its trees are stunted and twisted, not at all like the mighty oaks I remember of the forests around Winterfell. It is quiet, very quiet, as if the normal nocturnal animals are afraid of our passing. Which is probably true as they can almost certainly smell the wolf from me.

The forest is in places dense and full of undergrowth, in other parts the trees are far apart and the earth is bare, its dry, sandy soil rising in tiny puffs as we walk across it. Cloud is scudding across the face of the moon, every time the moons illumination strikes through the clouds I feel a shiver of pleasure, my wolf companion is 'up and about' testing the limits of her abilities, and my control over her. It would be a disaster if I changed into my other form in front of Taria, and there was no telling what might happen.

A chuckle bubbles up in my mind, my wolf wants to eat Taria, but not in that way, she wants me to lie with Taria again, to enjoy the delicious play of lips and tongues as they explored and probed.

I roll my eye's skywards, on top of everything else my wolf is randy, I decide to think instead about Robert Baratheon, imagining him naked, thinking this will put off my wolf. Never have I been more mistaken, for my wolf growls her appreciation at what I imagine Robert looks like naked. I had seen Brandon 'tumbling' with a few of the maids and serving wenches in Winterfell, I knew what a man's 'bits' looked like, Brandon seemed to be immensely proud of his 'bits', often asking the chits if they liked his 'big cock'. My wolf was nearly licking her lips at the thoughts of Robert, making comments that if he was that 'size', we were sure to have a very enjoyable union.

I have no real reply to this, and my wolf laughs uproariously in my head.

I catch a scent on the wind as it shifts, rotting meat, pain, suffering, death.

I put out my hand and Taria stops, the horses shuffle and neigh nervously; they have caught the scent also.

I dismount and whisper to Taria "Stay here, DO NOT follow me!" and I slink off into the darkness, in the direction where the scent is getting stronger. I listen to the forest, silence or the sounds that are natural, the trees swaying in the breeze, scuttling insects, small rodents hunting the insects, the squeak of mice. I sniff the air, other scents are now apparent, men, steel, olive oil, bread, wood smoke, stonework, blood, lots of blood.

The breeze shifts away and the scents vanish, I keep on moving forwards slowly, suddenly the sharp tang of urine assaults my nose as the wind shifts back in my direction. Up ahead I can see a small house through the trees, which I now realize are mostly olive trees, this is not a forest, it's a plantation of some sort.

I approach cautiously, keeping inside the tree line and making a full circuit of the house, it's made of local stone with a wooden roof, there is nobody alive in the house, I can smell at least five bodies though. I don't need to go into the house to know what is in there, but I cross the open ground between the trees and the house anyway, discovering the first body, a man, throat slashed open, his blood looks black in the night. I step inside the doorway into a kitchen, and move towards the next room, lying in the doorway is another body, this time of a boy, his head smashed open, behind him lies a baby, not more than a few months old, also dead.

I know what is in the next room before I even enter it, I can smell what was done, but I step in anyway. Two women lie dead, a mother and daughter, the daughter was no more than three and ten namedays in age, both have been raped times without number, brutalized, stabbed, cut. Something glitters on the floor, I bend down to pick it up, it's a piece of gilt work, from a belt maybe, two crossed swords over an arrow. I close my hand around it, if I ever find its owner I promise them a slow and very, very painful death.

There is nothing in the house of value, it's been stripped of what little it would have had, I debate briefly burying the bodies or burning them. The first option will delay me, the second might attract unwanted attention.

When I return to Taria she is startled by my sudden appearance out of the forest, she says nothing but the look she gives me is full of questions. I mount my horse and simply say "Nothing that you needed to have seen."

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#29

The Olive tree plantation thins out and the Prices Pass begins to descend towards the plains of the Reach to the northwest, and below us are farms and villages, off to the horizon, the land steadily dropping down and getting greener the further into the distance you looked. To our right the Mountains of the Dornish Marches fade off into the distance, hazy grey. Nightsong, the seat of House Caron, and our destination, lies to our left, and we have to climb up into the western branch of the Red Mountains to reach it.

For several days we climb up into the mountains, up through a pass cleft through the mountains like a giant took an axe to the earth and split it open. Every night I slip away from the camp in the early morning, slip my human form and hunt, bringing back game for us to eat. If Taria is suspicious, she says nothing, we are travelling very cautiously, trying to stay in cover and avoiding villages and farms.

Finally we see Nightsong in the distance, my eyesight tells me something is amiss, there is an army camped outside the castle, well below it actually, Nightsong is built into a crag far above the valley floor. It might be a siege, it just might be banner men camped outside, I will have to get a bit closer to recognize the sigils on the riot of banners in the encampment.

Maybe not, on the road below I see a caravan of wagons heading along a road that went northeast, it has given me an idea.

We ride down towards the road and soon catch up with the caravan of wagons, which is defended by some sorry looking sellswords. The owner is a merchant called Silvio, he is foreign, Braavosi I think. He owns three wagons, the other four wagons are each owned separately by the men driving them. With men in their employ, family and the four sellswords, this caravan comes to 36 souls in total.

I ask Silvio where he is headed, he replies that they are making their way into the Reach, they trade, buying and selling whatever they can along the way, itinerant traders and craftsmen, I learn that one of the wagons belongs to a travelling blacksmith, another to a tin and silver smith.

Even with the rebellion going on Silvio seems to be blithely unconcerned about his safety, he says that he sticks to the out of the way routes and places, staying away from the larger towns and villages, only visiting them on major market days to buy and trade.

I ask Silvio about the Army camped below the walls of Nightsong, asking him if business was good. He replies with a shrug of his shoulders saying that 'gold is gold, silver is silver, and there is never enough for everything.' I learn from Silvio that Nightsong, our destination, is under siege by the Royalist forces, House Canon has declared for Robert Baratheon, so going there is no longer an option.

The sellsword leader eyes my armor and sword hungrily, he and his men are scruffy, but look like they might be able to handle themselves in a fight. To be honest they look more like bully boys than actual fighters, I ask Silvio how much it costs to join the caravan, he mentions a price but seems to be waiting for something, Taria leans close to me and whispers in my ear.

Of course, he wants me to haggle, we spend a few minutes in back and forth before we agree upon a price, I pay him half now and promise to pay the rest when we leave the caravan, we will only be spending a few days with them, but their route will take us back towards the Princes Pass and the Dornish Marches.

There are several dogs with the caravan, scraggily mongrels mainly, who look at me very warily, even giving the odd low growl in my direction. Making eye contact with each dog soon quietens them down, and they slink off with their tails between their legs.

More problematical is the fact that every horse in the caravan is pawing at the ground nervously and some even show signs of bolting. I try that trick that worked back at the Tower of Joy and this seems to calm the animals somewhat.

The caravan resumes its journey, I position myself at the rear of the convoy and we plod slowly down out of the mountains and out onto the Prince's Pass again. The journey is not without its own drama, Taria drew the attention of the sell swords, who persisted on making lewd comments. On the second night one of the sellswords grabbed her and tried to rape her on the ground beside one of the wagons, the tip of my sword tickling his anus dissuaded him however of this course of action.

The rest of the sell swords came upon the scene and their leader just laughed at his mans predicament, once the sell sword was on his feet again and was distracted pulling up his trousers the leader slashed a knife lighting quick at him, cutting his throat, hissing "We don't fuck with our meal you fool!"

The other sell swords just stripped his body of its knife, sword and sparse armor and retreated into the darkness, the chief sell sword nodded in my direction, I nodded back and that was the end of that.

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#31

We leave the caravan after a few days of travel, they head off towards the Reach and we cross over into the Dornish Marches of the Stormlands. I feel a little bit safer now that we have left Dorne, and we travel over a road that leads us to a sizeable village, which has a small square Keep at its center, some minor Knight probably holds this for his Lord. I don't recognize the sigil flying from the Keep but I am slightly reassured by the fact that the Targaryen flag is not flying.

I ignore the Keep and we make for a tavern, I negotiate a fee for us, our horses, food and lodgings and a bath. We sit in the tap room of the tavern, we are served a substantial looking meat pie, which I devour over half of, washing it down with a tankard of ale. Taria eats much more slowly, and only sips at her ale, when I am finished I give a hearty belch, we are sitting at a long bench, there are men eating and drinking at this and the several other benches that make up the tap room, serving wenches are maneuvering around bearing jugs of ale and platters of food, usually, but not always, managing to avoid having their bums slapped our their teats groped.

I am listening carefully to the conversations around the room, filtering out the rubbish and concentrating on the important stuff, progress of the Rebellion, which is being called 'Robert's Rebellion', the state of the roads and banditry, who has declared for whom in the war etc. It seems that Robert has left the Stormlands with the bulk of his forces and is heading north to link up with the Starks, Tully's and Arryn forces. He has fought many battles but has just been defeated at Ashford and is being pursued by loyalist forces. I give a mental wince, Robert has abandoned his ancestral lands, and not all of his Banner's have followed him north, some have remained loyal to the crown and the Stormlands appears to be tethering on the brink of chaos. Great, thanks for that Robert, one more black mark against your character in my book.

The local knight has followed Robert north and left his second son in charge of a small detachment of men-at-arms, not enough to properly defend the town, according to the two glum looking small folk sitting to my left, one a blacksmith who works in the Keep and the other is a servant of some sort, from the smell of him he probably works in the kitchens.

The patrons of the tap room usually had the same reaction to me and Taria, a quick glance of curiosity, but when I meet their stares they usually look away. I can feel something itching under my skin, almost like something is twisting there, I sniff a new scent, its coming from me, and it smells like danger, threatening. I am so absorbed in listening to the conversations around me that I don't hear the men approach, only noticing them when Taria gasps.

A heavy hand thuds down onto my shoulder, fingers like steel gripping me.

"Well what have we here?" asks a rough voice "A little chit that thinks she a man and a curvy whore, I'm gonna enjoy this!"

Raucous laughter accompanies this comment, there are three of them, the one with his hand on my shoulder, and one on either side of him, they smell rank, unwashed, and with the now familiar undercurrents of violence and death.

My hand was on the horn ale tankard, I grip its handle tighter and whip is back and over my shoulder, its contents flying into the face of the man behind me. With that I spring upwards, I'm sitting on a bench so I'm at a big disadvantage, as I leap upwards I pull out my knife and slash behind me at what I assume is neck height, I feel the blade bite along something hard, boiled leather probably. I use the momentum from the slash to turn me around, hurling the dagger at the man to my left, a bruiser wielding a large club. The knife scours along his arm and flies off into the air, embedding itself in the low ceiling. I thump my feet down onto the table and leap across it, a large club swishing through the space I had just occupied. I spin around and draw my sword, three big, ugly bastards, all armed with heavy and scary looking clubs face me across the table. All around me men are scrambling up from their tables, most to move away as fast as they can.

Taria scampers up and hides behind me eliciting a grin from the leader "think this little girl will protect you whore? She got her chance, now she's gonna pay!" With that the thugs charge, the leader and the one to his left simply charge forwards jumping up on the table and coming straight at me, the other thug comes charging around the head of the bench, coming in on my left.

There is no conscious thought anymore, nothing fills my mind, no thoughts, no fear, nothing. I leap forwards darting left to avoid the downward swing of the leaders club, slashing across my body backhanded, cutting through the man's leg in one clean swipe, the leader stumbles and begins to fall forwards, a scream wailing out of his moth. I continue darting to the left, the thug that has come around the head of the bench swings his club at me in a low horizontal swipe, I jump up onto the bench, avoiding the swing, while still in the air my blade flashes down, decapitating the man. I land on the bench, whirl around and jump back down onto the packed dirt and reed strewn floor. The third thug is looking at me, his companions, at me again, deciding what to do, when his decision is made for him as a blade explodes out from his neck and he gurgles and gasps a bit, until he slumps down to his knees, and then topples over like a felled tree.

A tough looking sell sword in scale armor raises his sword to me, I nod in response and stroll over to the leader of the bunch, who is cursing and screaming on the floor. He has levered himself up so that he is sitting against the bench and has wrapped a strip of torn cloth above the bleeding stump of his leg.

His eyes flick up to mine, they are starting out his head, bulging with pain "Cunt!" he spits out.

"Cunt? Is that all you can say? You're shit at dying, you know that" I reply matter of fact, and thrust my sword into his neck, biting deep.

I pull it free, pick up a discarded piece of cloth from the table and begin to wipe the blade clean, a smattering of cheering breaks out.

The sell sword walks away, reaches up and pulls my dagger from the ceiling, a frown crossing his face as he has to give a few strong tugs to free it. He walks back over to me, turns in hilt first to me and I take it back and sheath it.

"Fancy sword work girl, I would have bet a Gold Dragon that they would have made short work of you, but then betting is why I'm a poor sell sword and not a rich Lord" he grins lopsided at me.

I nod in response "My father and brother taught me" I reply, not sure why exactly I said this.

"They were good teachers obviously" replies the man, raising his eyebrows.

Just then several men-at-arms enter the tavern, the patrons clearing a way for them.

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#32

The men-at-arms draw their swords, they wear plate and chain and look warily about; these are experienced men, the way the fan out slightly to give themselves room to swing their swords, the way the stand watching every part of the room, the way their eyes are cold and flat.

"In the name of Ser Roderik Wallance and Robert Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands, all of you back to your seats! You!" he jabs a finger at me "Girl?" he has suddenly realized what I am "Girl, did you do this?" he asks, looking at the tumble of bodies.

No point in lying now "Yes, they put their hands unbidden upon me, they did not like my response."

"Hah!" the man barked "You have spirit lass! I should thank you for this, that was Grummar and his two thugs Bearhands and Pilker, bad they were, vicious bandits. Ever since Ser Roderick went North with Lord Robert we have been plagued by bandits and cut throats, these" he gestured with his sword "are just the last in a long line of scum that we have had to deal with. Which I now don't have to deal with now thanks to you, erh...?"

"Sanna, you can call me Sanna" I reply.

"Sanna eh? Never heard that name before? Is it a Northern name lass, you speak like a Northerner?"

"Aye I am."

"Where do you hail from lass?"

"Barrowton, my father served as a Man at Arms to House Dustin", the lie falling easily from my mouth.

"House Dustin, what's their Sigil girl?" he asks.

"Crossed Axes below a crown, on a field of yellow, words 'Fortune favors the Few'" I reply, again thanking the Maesters who drilled this into me.

He nods in response "Ser Roderick left his second son, Harlan, in charge of the Keep and his lands, you will accompany us to meet him."

I shrug my shoulders in response, motioning Taria to follow, I notice that the sellsword has also moved to join us; I arch an eyebrow at him.

"I saw what happened; I can back up your word."

"Be this on your head" I respond, flipping a Gold Dragon at the tavern's owner, he catches it one handed and whisks it away into his purse "For the trouble and mess" I say without turning my head to look at him.

We trudge through the town with the men-at arms ahead and behind us, towards the Keep, the sellsword leans close and whispers "Where did you get a Valyrian steel dagger from girl?" I do not turn my head to him, replying out of the corner of my mouth "from the 1st man I killed" I lie, not fully a lie, maybe a mistruth. I hear howling laughter echo in my head at this, also I feel my wolf stretch and sink her mind into mine, she expects trouble. I snort to myself, thinking that my wolf was lazy, as she did not appear to have been interested in the fight in the Tavern. To this she replies that she could hardly have 'manifested' without having to kill everyone in the Tavern, and possibly in the whole village to preserve our 'secret'.

The sellsword gives a strangled laugh in response, and then another whispered comment. "I suppose you are going to tell me you got that Valyrian steel chain mail form the same source?" irony dripping from his voice.

"Curiosity is a trait often found in cats, but then they have nine lives, and can afford to be curious, but men only have one life..." I whisper in response.

That shuts up the inquisitive Sellsword as we reach the Keep, it is square and small, its walls only a bit taller than the tallest houses in the town, maybe four hundred hands on each of its sides. Four towers raise up another ten or do feet above the wall at its corners, above the gate is another tower of similar size. Its stonework looks none too good for wear I can see, a general air of run down malaise hangs over the place.

"The Dornish Marches were once full of Keeps like this, all garrisoned by the finest warriors of the Stormlands, after Dorne bent the knee to the Dragons, there was no need for such defenses. This town would have had a wall also, it's been pulled down, probably decades ago" whispered the Sellsword as we crossed the threshold and into the small ward at the center of the Keep. The living quarters, stables, workshops, stores etc. are all built into the inner wall, making the ward small and cramped feeling.

Standing in the yard is a youth of maybe five and ten years, slim and rather callow looking, with several men-at-arms flanking him; a Maester and probably his Steward are also present.

The man-at-arms that spoke to us walks forwards to talk with the youth; a rather heated whispered conversation follows. Eventually the youth steps forwards to address us.

"I am Harlan Wallance, second son of Ser Roderik Wallance, a Knight of the Stormlands. I rule here in my father's absence. I hear that we own you a small debt, erh, Lady Sanna?"

I bow my head slightly "I am no Lady" I lie, "Sanna will do my Lord."

"And your companions...Sanna?" the youth asks.

"My servant" I hear a little snort at this "Taria, and this sellsword has followed me from the tavern like a stray dog, I am afraid I never got his name..."

The sellsword smiles and responds "I am Gerold my Lord."

"Just Gerold" asks Harlan.

"Just Gerold."

"Well, there was sixty silver stags on the heads of those brigands, though why they should have been able to walk around this town with such a price on their heads in beyond me..." the youth gives his guards a hard stare at this. "As you killed them I believe that you deserve the reward, Sanna."

"Erh, pardon me my Lord, but I killed one of them" interrupted Gerold.

"The Sellsword deserves 1/3 of the bounty" I say, a plan forming in my head.

"As you say" replied Harlan "Pay them", he orders his steward "Would you accept my hospitality as guest for the night? We can dine and you can tell me all about your adventures!" the boy quips, eagerness on his face.

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#33

Of course I accept the invitation; one does not turn this kind of thing down, no matter how petty the noble involved, for as far as anyone is concerned, I'm some sort of exotic sellsword, and as such not really in a position to turn down such an offer. Myself and Taria retrieve some of our things from the Tavern, Gerold accompanies us to the tavern, he is of the opinion that we should leave our horses in the Tavern 'just in case', I agree with him, something is making me nervous and jumpy, I don't want to be here for some reason.

Taria and I are given a plain looking room to stay in, a servant girl comes along with a small copper basin and a jug of hot water, not much luxury after the bath where I met Taria but it will have to do. I strip off, unconcerned that Taria is suddenly acting rather shy and nervous around me, I don't scold the girl, even given her previous profession. A quick wash with a cloth and a run through my hair with wet hands is all I can do, it's not very comfortable but it's all I can do. I gesture to Taria and start rooting among the clothes that we have brought up from our horses.

While Taria strips and starts to wash herself I look at the clothes, I have taken out my old clothes, some dresses from Winterfell and two ones that Rhaegar gave me, I am of a mind to rip these last two to shreds with my bare hands, but I simply run my hands over the fine silk and thread work of the dresses. They must have cost a fortune to make, thankfully they are not marked by the Dragon sigil that the Targaryen's like so much. Beautiful and all that they are, these are not me anymore, maybe they will be me again when I reach Robert and if we wed...No, even then, I will not be the same, I will not be some little meek wolf to Robert's lusty stag. I discard the dresses and my hands move over the clothes that I found hidden in the basement of the Tower of Joy.

And, as I have said, I'm not a 'lady' so I should not dress as one; I pulled out a sleek doublet of crimson, gold and black, it was high collared and richly embroidered, I glanced closely at the material, there appeared to be something woven into the fabric, I tested it, pulling and folding the material, whatever it was that was woven in was strong and very light. The doublet was long sleeved, crimson at the front and back, black down the side and arms, the arms ending in cuffs of gold cloth, a thin strip of gold separated the crimson from the black.

I pulled on my trousers, slid the doublet over my head, it clung to me almost like a second skin, buckled up my belt and turned to Taria.

"Well, how do I look?" I asked.

The girl, who was naked and washing herself with a cloth, blushed and replied "beautiful...deadly..."

I move forwards "I'm only deadly to those who threaten me...or who threaten you..." I take the wet cloth from the girls hand and run it over her stomach, then up over her breasts, before throwing it away. We are of a height Taria and I, but whereas my new body is whipcord thin and hard, her body is soft, curving, inviting. I put my hands on her skin, tracing little patterns with my fingertips, Taria gasps at this, something shifts under my skin and I can smell a new scent pouring off my body, the scent of desire, heady, musky, dark.

I see Taria's nostrils flare as she inhales my scent, her pupils dilate until her soft brown eyes are huge pools of black, her breathing is coming shallow and panting, her skin flushes with blood, turning a rosy pink. I cup a heavy breast and lean forwards, just stopping with our lips almost touching.

"Yes" she moans, "please, yes..."

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#34

Later after our antics I have to wash again, having been left rather sweaty and sticky, I'm in a good mood though as I use the now cold water to give myself a quick rub down, Taria is lying on the bed in her naked glory, all curves and enticing shadows as night has fallen and a single candle is all the illumination in the room.

I dress hurriedly, all the while observed by Taria with a contented smile on her face, Gods but I never thought that a woman could make me feel like this, so alive, so relaxed. When I'm finished Taria gets up from the bed, throws on her dress and fusses over me, adjusting the doublet and my belt.

"You should really wear your hair up" she says, running her hands through my thick tresses "such beautiful hair" she murmurs, burying her face in it and inhaling its scent.

Just then there is a knock at the door, I go and open it, a guard stands there, requesting my presence in the hall for dinner. I nod and ask that my 'serving girl' be sent up some food and stride out into the corridor, following the guard down the meagrely lit passage. Not that this inconveniences me at all, I can switch between seeing things 'dark' and seeing things 'bright' (but in greys mostly) at a seeming flick of a thought.

I am not paying attention and I nearly collide with a servant as we turn to descend down a level, the guard turns and gasps, looking at my face.

"What!?" I ask, my voice rumbling, deep, unlike what should emanate from a girls mouth.

"Your...eyes, they, they, blazed golden for a moment..." the guard stammers.

"They sometimes reflect the candle and firelight" I respond, giving him a hard stare.

He blinks and walks on, I keep my vision to normal, it seems that when I chose to see with my wolfs eyes, they appear to glow a golden hue. I will need to watch that and make sure I do not draw too much attention to myself in this manner. I scoff; I am a half wolf, half woman creature, stuck thousands of leagues from home, in the midst of a rebellion, my chances of ever returning 'home', wherever that will be, are not good.

I am led into the hall of the Keep, its small and low ceilinged, a fire burns in a fireplace to one side, a table is set for several people, a candelabrum on the table provides the only other illumination.

Harlan, the Maester, the man who brought me in earlier on, whom I have since learned is the titular head of the small garrison left behind, an older woman, Harlan's mother Alys, a blonde girl of about thirteen namedays called Elena and bearing a remarkable similarity to Harlan. Interestingly Gerold is not present, which makes me wonder about the motives of Lady Alys. There are two servants in the room, but all the food is already laid on the table for us to eat.

Introductions are made all round, Harlan's mother does not like the look of me one bit, especially when she sees her son stealing covert glances my way. He obviously likes what he sees, my doublet is thin and fits me like a glove, my trousers are equally snug, before we sat down I had noticed that no man in the room seemed able to tear their eyes from me, I knew that the way I walked was different than before, I seemed to move with a fluidity, a grace that I had not possessed before. If I was honest, I liked this attention, liked even more knowing that if needs be I could kill every man in this room if his attention became an irritant. My wolf grins in agreement at this sentiment; in my mind I can see her fangs and leathery lips make their equivalent of a human smile, which to anyone else would be terrifying.

The food is plain and wholesome, but there is a lot of it, roast game, pies, vegetables, fish, bread, wine and ale. I tuck in, feeding an appetite that seems never to be satiated, until I become aware of everyone looking at me, I stop and look up, seeing Harlan's mother grinning coolly at me.

"Quite the appetite you have there my dear" she says, hoisting her cup to salute me.

I blush, yes godsdammit, I blush, and shrug my shoulders "its wartime, one cannot be certain where the next meal is coming from my Lady." I reply by way of an answer.

Harlan's mother arches an eyebrow, but says nothing, his sister Elena gives a short laugh, her voice tinkles like little bells to my ears. Her mother then says "And what is a Lady doing out, travelling alone, in such a war?" she asks, her eyes boring into me.

"I'm no lady, I'm..." I start to reply.

"Nonsense, you are High Born, the way you speak, the fineness of your clothing and armor, your skill...at arms, all of this points to someone who is High Born. Don't insult us anymore girl...however...you obviously have your reasons for travelling incognito, so we will leave it at that."

After that dinner livens up a little, Harlan keep on trying to engage me in small talk, and he is trying to flirt, despite the thunderous glances from his mother, and the titters from his sister.

Harlan presses me for what I am doing in the Stormlands and what adventures I have gotten up to, I let the boy press me until I get tired of fending him off, replaying "Adventures are terrifying things that happen to other people, I would not recommend 'adventures' to anybody."

Harlan's mother snorts at this "If only your father, my dear husband, would have listened to sense, like this girl is saying..."

"Mother! Father followed his liege lord to war, Prince Rhaegar kidnapped his betrothed, the King murdered Lord Stark and his son..."

My knife clatters to the table "Lord Rikard Stark is dead?" I ask, my face feels freezing cold and I can feel my arms trembling.

"Yes my dear" responds Harlan's mother "and Brandon Stark. King Aerys murdered Lord Stark by burning him alive with wildfire while his son was forced to watch; then he had Brandon Stark strangled to death once his father's howls of agony had ended."

I cannot hear anything but the thundering of the blood in my ears, I feel the wolf in my head howl a long, savage wail, heavy with the call of vengeance, it wants out, and it wants out NOW! I feel my sanity slipping, I can feel the wolf sliding into my veins, my bones, my mind, I am teetering on the brink of the wolf emerging and running wild.

"Sanna, Sanna!" I feel someone pulling at my arm "Are you all right?" asks Harlan's sister, her blue eyes huge in the dim light of the room.

"What?" I croak "Sorry, I, I don't know what came over me there..." I reply weakly. Damm, I very nearly changed right there and then, I'm sure that in my rage and grief I would have slaughtered every living thing in the Keep to satiate my anger.

Harlan's mother gives me a sharp eyed look over the rim of her wine cup, I let a shudder pass through me, I have to say something.

"My, my father severed under Lord Stark on several occasions, I met him and his son when I was younger" I say in a wholly unconvincing and trembling voice.

Harlan then takes this as an opening to recount what he knows of the rebellion so far, the battles he glosses over, the usual male rubbish about glory and honor, I keep and ear out though as he talks of matters closer to home, about who in the Stormlands has declared for Robert and who is still loyal to the crown. Though the boy is putting a brave face on it, things are looking bad, the forces of the Reach are apparently marching across the Stormlands, intent on taking Storms End.

But I am not really paying full attention; instead my mind is whirling at the thoughts of my father and brother dead. That would make poor Ned Lord of Winterfell and head of the Starks, I cry a little inside at the thought of my brother having to assume such a mantle at his age, a weight like that, and in a war, that is a heavy burden for any man, especially one so young as Ned.

I smile though at the thought of having killed Rhaegar Targaryen, and I vow that I will be the one to kill that mad King Aerys, I will kill him with my claws and teeth, I swear it by the Old Gods and the New!

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And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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The meal winds on, after the plates and dishes are cleared away Harlan's mother, asks me to accompany her on a walk around the battlements, ''to take the night air and aid digestion' she says, I agree, Harlan looks a little disappointed that his mother is removing me, and a little scared by what might be the topic of our conversation.

We ascend several flights of stairs and we move along to a spot midway along the battlements, there are no guards nearby and the woman stops.

"We can talk here without being overheard" she says in a low voice, turning to look at me.

The silence stretches between us until I feel compelled to break it "And what do you want to talk about? Your son is obviously infatuated with me, but I have no interest in him, I am promised to another..."

"Indeed you are...we have met before young lady, you obviously do not remember. I was born a Redwyne and was travelling to visit my family in the Reach just before all this nonsense got started. I saw you with that silver haired oaf of a prince and his companions; you were travelling south as I was travelling north. His Kingsguard forced my coach and guards off the road to let him pass, with much shouting and abuse I seem to remember. And I was blessed with a memory for faces, Lyanna Stark..."

I draw in a sudden breath, my knife is in its scabbard, a quick slash and this interfering old women will never tell a soul of this.

"Don't worry my dear" she sooths, placing her hand on my arm "I will never tell a soul about this, word reached us by raven just this afternoon that Prince Rhaegar's body has been discovered, my son does not know yet, the Maester knows who is the real power in this household..."

I look off into the night, with a twist of will I change my eyes to be able to see in the dark, and I turn back to the old woman, hearing her sharp intake of breath at my golden eyes.

"There are many men who would kill to know my whereabouts" I reply plainly "Give me a good reason why I should not kill you here and now?" my voice dropping dangerously low, a growl in the back of my throat.

"Probably none that would convince you if you have decided to kill me" the woman responds, her voice never wavering. "But know this Lyanna Stark, you are in hostile lands, surrounded by enemies on all sides, can you afford to discard friends so easily?"

"I don't know if you are my friend..." I reply evenly, letting my eyes return to their normal colour. "For all I know you could have sent a raven out saying that I am here. It would certainly remove the threat of loyalist retribution to your house if you could deliver up Lyanna Stark, the murderer of Prince Rhaegar."

I see the calculation in her eyes, but out loud she says "Maybe, but I could not trust the forces that are loyal to the crown here not to take a bloody revenge. House Wallance is old, but weak, our fortunes declining year on year. There are several neighbouring knightly houses who covet our lands, and who have all stayed loyal to the crown. I would rather not find my House betrayed for nothing..."

I am still unsure if I believe this woman, deciding in the end that I have no choice, at least for now. Maybe I should rouse Taria and we should ride out of here at once and flee into the night?

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#36

I jerk awake, lying in Taria's arms, I hear the unmistakable sounds of fighting in the distance.

"Gods!" I swear, jumping up, that bitch has betrayed us! Well her and her family are going to beat me to the seven hells by a good few hours. I pull on my clothes and armor, buckle up my sword and give Taria a quick, fierce kiss, I know I will never see her again as I sprint out the door.

There in the corridor is Alys Wallance, he face ashen, I advance, my sword whispering out of its scabbard in a single, swift motion.

"WAIT! Wait!" she screams "It is not what you think, please. Our enemies, the Wytons, the Downhams and the Duxfords are attacking, sacking the town, raping and pillaging. I did not betray you, please, you must believe me!" the woman pleads, falling to her knees. I may regret this for the rest of my soon to be shortened life, but I lower my sword and re-sheath it. I set my face hard, looking at the women and let my eyes flash golden "If you are lying woman I will kill you, your son and your daughter before I die, I swear it!"

"Please, I am telling you no lies, come up on the battlements and see for yourself!"

I follow Alys up onto the battlements, her son, the head of the garrison and Gerold are there, along with a smattering of men-at-arms.

Harlan is pacing back and forth, and in a state of high agitation as the sounds of the slaughter echo around us. The town is burning, small folk running around, trying to escape, armored knights, men-at-arms and sellswords of the three hostile knightly houses are busy raping and pillaging their way through the town. They pay the Keep little attention, being almost contemptuous of its hulking presence in the middle of the town. All we can do is lose the odd arrow to warn off any of their men who get too close to the walls. And so the sack of the town continues unabated, while we sit impotent in the Keep, Harlan becoming more and more agitated and upset by what is going on, or so I think. That is, until the young fool opens his mouth.

"Why do they not fight us, why are they not outside our gates right now, demanding we fight them!" he asks in a petulant tone.

I see Gerold roll his eyes to heaven, as does his mother, who says "Because my son, this is not about honour, or glory! Those houses out there want to extinguish our line, to take our lands and our wealth. Destroying this town while we sit here watching, because we do not have enough men to defend our lands, that sends a message that House Wallance cannot protect its people. We have no money to rebuild the town, soon none of us will have heads on our shoulders!"

Harlan looks crushed by this, he tries to sputter a response, Gerold puts a hand on his shoulder "See that out there?" he nods to the now blazing town "that's what war looks like, not a charge by Knights in armor, banners streaming in the wind, drinking and laughing afterwards, marrying adoring maids when they return to be feted as heroes. That" he thrusts his hand out to the town "that is war, war is rape, plunder, pillage and thousands of squalid, meaningless deaths!"

Harland looks insulted by this, looks like he was going to draw his sword, when the sounds of marching feet and horses hooves reach our ears.

From one of the wider streets armored men fan out to encircle the Keep, many more than our bow men could hope to counter, followed by a contingent of knights on horseback.

Alys hisses "Derion Duxford, known as 'Derion the Black', a savage killer and a cruel Lord" nodding at a large man who spurs his horse forwards, supremely arrogant and confident that we will not shoot him, a part of my mind takes note that I should get a bow and some arrows and practice, it would be a useful skill to have.

The man comes close underneath where we are standing on the battlements and glances up at us, his eyes taking us in for a few moments before he calls out "House Wallance has really sunk low by its treachery, if it needs boys, girls, old women and sellswords to man its walls!"

We give no reply to this, so he continues on "In the name of King Aerys Targaryen, second of his name, blah, blah, blah, House Wallance is declared in rebellion against the crown by raising its banners to support Robert Baratheon. As such your lands and titles are forfeit, Harlan Wallance, should you surrender this Keep now you will be allowed to take the Black, your mother and sister will be allowed to join the silent sisters. If you refuse to surrender then no Knightly protection will be offered to any member of House Wallance's or your household!"

The knight just sat there on his horse, looking bored, amused even.

I stare down at the Knight, and return my gaze to Harlan and the rest of the party on the walls "If you believe him about being spared if you surrender now you are sorely mistaken, all we have to choose here is the time of our deaths."

Gerold gives me a grim faced nod "I count two hundred men at arms out there, we have what? Fifty in here?"

This rather grim statistic does little to improve our mood, from below comes a shout "I am waiting for your reply Harlan of House Wallance! I do not have all night to wait until you have pissed your pants enough to make a decision!"

Alys Wallance turns to me and says "We must get you out of here!"

"What!" gasps Harlan, "why?" he asks, confusion and hurt on his face at his mother's seeming usurpation of his authority.

"Not now child, we will all be dead soon enough, but this one, she must live!" She spins around "You!" she points a finger a Gerold "You are a sellsword?"

"Yes" he answers, a slightly unsure look on his face.

"Both of you come with me!" she gestures for me and Gerold to follow her, before she leaves she turns to her son, taking a step towards him, and placing her hands on his shoulders "My Son, this is the end of us all, there is nothing we can do, but she" Alys jerks her head over her shoulder at me "she must survive, do not ask me why, do you trust me son?"

"Yes mother" he replies, his voice nearly breaking.

"Her survival will ensure that even though House Wallance will fall tonight, its name will never be forgotten! Your father and brother, if they live through this rebellion might restart our House, but its rebirth will rest on the glory and sacrifice that we will earn tonight!" She looks at the head man-at-arms, he gives a nod, and a wan smile at this. He knows that he will soon be selling his life as dearly as he can.

With this Alys ushers us down from the battlements, I rush into my room as we pass it, Taria has everything packed away and ready to leave, Gods bless her! We descend further, crossing the courtyard, the fist sounds of battle reach our ears, flaming arrows arc through the brightening sky above the courtyard. We reach a small room, maybe a solar, Alys pulls back a stone from the wall and pulls out a bag of coins, hefting it towards Gerold.

"This is all I have, it is my payment to you to protect this woman, will you accept this payment?"

Gerold nods in response, weighing the bag in his hand, I go to protest, there is no guarantee that Gerold won't slit my throat for more money than is in that bag, I don't want another set of eyes watching me, seeing how different I am...

"There is no time!" hisses Alys Wallance "Come, we must get you out of here, there is a secret passageway out of the Keep that will take to the middle of the town, it's the best I can do!"

She rushes off, grabbing a candle and we follow, warily behind her, as she descends down old, worn stairs, behind us there is a crunch and crash, Gerold saying "that must be the gate being hit with a battering ram!"

"Hurry" Alys wheezes, as we follow her down one flight of stairs, and then another, at the bottom there is her daughter, holding a candle and dressed in rather plain clothes and with a bag at her feet, I pull up sharp and begin to protest.

"No!" Alys says "No, this is my one ask of you, take my daughter with you, return her to her father if he still lives, I am giving you the gift of your freedom, do this for me, please!"

I stare into the woman's eyes for what seems to be forever, but is only a second or two and just nod in response.

Elena starts to cry and hurls herself at her mother, imploring her not to stay and to come with us.

"Ssshhh, sweetling, ssshhh, of course I will follow you, off you go with Gerold and Taria, I will follow in a few moments with Sanna, go now, quickly!"

Alys pushes a stone back and it recedes with a click, a crack about three feet high appears in the wall.

"Push" hisses Alys and Gerold pushes the door open, fetid darkness greets us.

"Go! Go!" Alys shoos her arms and Gerold lights a brand from a bunch of them on a wall bracket from Alys's candle, and indicates with his hands that Taria and Elena should follow him into the passageway.

Once they are gone Alys turns to me "On the other side there is a lever that can be pulled to close the door behind you..."

With a sudden lurch I realize what it is that the woman has kept me back for.

"They may torture me, I, I cannot be sure that I will keep your secret safe, you must kill me!"

I stare appalled at the women, but I know it is what must be done.

"Not here" I say "We must not lead then to the tunnel, up, back up the stairs!"

We ascend as quickly as the woman can climb, sounds of desperate fighting assault our ears, the gates of the keep have obviously been breached and fighting is now raging throughout the Keep, well from the sounds of it, it was more slaughter than fighting.

We reach the basement and stride away from the stairs, I notice that there is a door from the stairs into the basement that I did not see before, I will close that behind me, every little second will help.

I hustle Alys over to behind some barrels and crates, her body will probably escape discovery on casual inspection of this basement.

I look at the woman, holding her eyes, my father saying 'the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword' washes through my mind. I bunch my muscles, my left arm drops to my side, in an instant my dagger is in my hand and it arcs up, cutting Alys Wallance's throat in a welter of bright red blood. I wipe my dagger against some sacking and hurry away, closing the door to the stairwell behind me, tears fogging my vision.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#37

I am huddled with Gerold, looking out of the trap door that is the end of the tunnel, Taria and Elena are below us, their faces pale ovals in the darkness below.

I take several big gasps of air, Gerold is doing likewise, but I am moving my head back and forth as I do so, letting my sense of smell flood my brain with scents. There is nobody near alive, I can hear some screaming from behind us, but it's far away, probably not a threat to us. I lever myself up, Gerold follows instantly, looking a little annoyed that I took the lead. I move cautiously to the door, we have emerged into what looks like some sort of shed or small warehouse, crates, sacks and barrels are racked against one wall. Taria begins to climb out and Gerold hisses "Stay back down!", she ducks her head back instantly.

Though there is no need to be so cautious I don't let on and at the door I peep through a knot hole that I can get my eye against, the street is deserted, I can see burning buildings, debris and bodies in the street. Behind us there is a commotion; Elena has pushed herself up out of the trap door and stands up, brushing dust off herself.

"Where is my mother! We must go back for her, she is the Lady Wallance!" as she stamps her feet.

I take two swift strides to her, her face registers shock at the speed with which I reach her, I grip her chin in one hand, clamping my fingers like steel around her mouth, it opens into a surprised 'O'.

"Your mother is dead" I say deadpan "Your brother is dead, everyone you know in your Keep is dead. They gave their lives so that you could escape, so that we could bring you out of that Keep and return you to your father!" This might just placate this little spoilt brat. "We have to escape this place, we have to get you to safety, so please shut the fuck up and listen to what Gerold and myself have to say? If you want to honor the sacrifice of your mother and brother you will follow our orders, understood?"

The girl nods her head, tears welling in her eyes.

"Good, now our first job is to find our horses and get out of this town as quickly as possible" I say, noticing that there are bruise marks on the girls face from my fingers.

The girl starts sobbing and Taria climbs up out of the tunnel and begins to comfort her.

"Any idea where we are?" I ask Gerold as I rejoin his at the door.

"Yes, I think so, the Tavern should be that way" he jerks a thumb at the door, "around the corner at the end of this street..."

"You think so..." I say, rolling the words over on my tongue "I hope you are right..."

Gerold gives me a withering look and pushes open the door, we emerge on the deserted street, I motion to Taria and Elena to follow us and we sprint down the street, until we get to the corner, where me and Gerold take turns in taking a cautious look around, again the streets are deserted so we make our way to the tavern, as we get closer my ears pick up disturbing sounds from inside.

I put a hand on Gerold's arm, motioning him to stop, we crouch down, a faint sound of screaming reaches his ears, I unfortunately can hear it much more clearly, along with what else is going on. I tilt my head back and forth, before whispering "I think that's coming from the back of the Tavern."

Gerold raises his eyebrows at this, I scuttle forwards and dart a peek inside the doorway of the tavern, it's double doors are lying off their hinges, one out in the street and one inside the tap room. From upstairs I hear the screaming of several women being raped and from the back an agonized wail howls through the air. I dart through the doorway, hearing Gerold curse behind me and his footsteps as he follows me. I follow the sounds of the wail as it dies in the air, hearing a voice say "Now tell us where the gold is!"

I burst around a corner and barely have time to register the scene, a woman lies dead on the floor, two men are torturing the tavern owner who is tied to a stool, one of his eye's gouged out of his head and hanging by a thread of gristle and pale grey flesh down his cheek. His belly has been sliced open and his intestine teased out, and the rest of his body is a mass of bruises and cuts. My sword is already out, cutting downwards at an angle to bisect the man who is torturing the tavern owner, the man asking the question see's me and jumps back, drawing his swords as mine cleaves his companion in half, I spin around, letting the momentum of the cut turn me and this puts me a little further away from the other man, whose sword is stabbing towards me. I parry it with a strike, reversing my strike he parries my blow, shock on his face as he feels the strength behind my strike. I strike a series of lightning fast cuts and thrusts, each one fended off more desperately than the last, the small room we are in making fighting with swords difficult.

Finally I bat aside his sword and skewer the man, just as Gerold rounds the corner at a run, he skids to a stop, a look of mild amusement on his face.

I tilt my head questioningly at him.

"I forgot I've seen you fight before lass..." he smiles.

The tavern owner lets out a groan, and looks at me with his one good eye "You, you were that girl who killed those brigands yesterday" he gasps out, pain stilting his speech.

"Aye" I respond.

"I, I don't think that there is much life left in me, these two wanted my gold, not that there is much of it, it's over there" he gestures with his head "behind that second brick from the door, five bricks up from the floor..."

Gerold moves but I am quicker, shouldering him out of the way, he stumbles back from me, looking a little scared and rubbing his upper arm. I quickly dislodge the brick and pull out a purse that rattles with coins. I heft it and attach it to my belt, looking at Gerold I say "You got one earlier on, this one is mine!"

The Tavern keeper moans in pain, I walk over to him and look him levelly in the eyes "Do you want the peace of the Stranger?" I ask in a level voice.

The man gulps and nods his head "Thank you..." he gasps as I sheath my sword and air my knife, slashing across his throat and ending the man's life. That's twice today that I have had to give someone mercy, twice too many for my liking.

More pleading and screaming comes from upstairs, I take off at a run, Gerold gives another curse and follows me, we dart past Taria and Elena, who have come inside and who are standing around, looking rather dumb.

I dart up the stairs, my footsteps surprisingly light for the speed I am moving at, I let my senses guide me, I crash through the half open door of the first room, my sword out and punching through a man's face as he turns his head towards me. I pull my sword out with a jerk and the body collapses onto a sobbing women, one of the serving wenches.

I jump back out into the hall, I can hear several men rutting away in the next room down, the door is open so I dart in, three men are pumping into women on the floor, their backs to me. I swing my sword and lop off the tops of the heads of two of them, the third man pulls himself up off the young girl her has been raping, I spit him with my sword for his trouble. From down the hall comes an almighty crash, I turn and run out into the passage, a huge man is roaring, brandishing two axes. I smile and gesture with my sword for him to come on.

He bellows out a roar of rage and charges, my left hand drops to grip my knife, I pull it out and throw it straight at the giant, it embeds itself in the center of his forehead, his eyes roll up into his head as he dies instantly, but his sheer momentum carriers him forwards, I duck into a doorway to avoid being crushed by this mass of dead flesh. The man stumbles and falls, sprawling on the floor and sliding to the feet of Gerold as he runs up the stairs. I dart over and pull out my knife; again Gerold gives me that ironic smile of his.

"It's clear" I say, not even out of breath, the brutalized women start to emerge from the rooms, they have grabbed their ruined clothes and try to cover themselves as best they can.

"I would get out of here as soon as you can if I was you, here!" I heft the coin purse and throw it to them.

Turning on my heel I descend the stairs, Gerold once more following in my footsteps, we collect Taria and Elena and make our way to the stables out back, thankfully they have not been disturbed. we saddle our horses and at the gate take a quick look around, no sign of life so we gallop off into the streets, Gerold directs us to follow him and soon enough we are out of the town and we gain the cover of a small forest.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#38

We quickly trot off the road and into the trees, dismounting and Gerold cuts down a branch of a tree to drag behind us to somewhat cover our tracks. We move deeper into the gloom, eventually settling down beneath a rocky outcrop, Gerold climbs up onto the outcrop and lies down, peering back the way we came. I decide to join him, from this vantage point I can see out through the trees to the town, and more importantly we can see the road that we just took.

"Now let's see if there is any pursuit..." he whispers. I nod in response and slide back down away from him and then back down from the outcropping. I direct Taria and Elena to help me make a lean-to in front of the rocky outcropping, Taria goes to work but Elena sniffs at having to actually do some physical work. I glare at the girl and she soon gets the message, I had built these lean-to's with my father and brothers when we had gone on hunting trips from Winterfell. The bare structure is up after about a half an hour, in two hours it is covered with branches and the space behind it has been cleared of twigs and leaves, and a fire has been lit, using only dry twigs and logs so as not to make any smoke.

Gerold comes down off the boulder and looks at what we have done approvingly "Care to spell me watching out?" he asks.

I nod in response and climb up onto the top of the outcropping, settling down to watch, ignoring what is going on below me and concentrating on watching the town and the road. Little happens during the day, the town continues to burn, some parties of men appear on the edge of the town, but they do not head up the road towards us, I can just about see the road that we entered the town from this vantage point, around midday men and horses begin streaming back up this road in rather ragged groups, then the more disciplined men-at-arms and knights start to leave.

Taria climbs up and hands me a hunk of bread, some hard cheese and salt pork, and a wineskin filled with sour wine. I tuck into the food and quickly finish it, and drink a good half of the wineskin, never taking my eyes away from watching the town or the streams of departing men. Taria has not moved from her position behind and below me, I can feel her eyes on me, I gesture for her to climb up and she does, settling down beside me. We lie in comfortable silence on the rock, Taria wiggles closer until we are touching along our flanks, her fingers find mine and they intertwine.

I call down softly to Gerold, who was sleeping down below, telling him that the soldiers were leaving the town, and not coming this way. He replies that this is good, and that we will move off in a few hours time, just to make sure that the area is clear of them and any stay behind patrols.

The afternoon passes slowly, Taria nuzzles my neck and plants a few kisses on it before she lays her head down and goes to sleep, I extract my hand from under her and prop myself up on my elbows, I can smell something on the wind, something wild and intoxicating. It's only the very faintest of scents but I want to follow it, with a struggle I lie back down, I cannot leave and follow this scent, I cannot. And yet I fidget and squirm, the scent comes and goes, seemingly at random on the breezes that waft through the forest, sometimes getting stronger, sometimes getting fainter. Taria wakes up when she senses my jumpiness, a question fills the liquid brown pools of her eyes, I give her a quick kiss and she smiles, retreating down to the lean-to, she is quickly in conversation with Elena and the two of then set to work on something, I cannot see what they are doing but they seem busy so I leave them be.

I am constantly distracted by the scent that I can still taste on the wind, it's spicy, bright tang reminds me of something, but I know not what. For the last hour there has been no movement from the town, which continues to burn sullenly in the distance. I slip back down and give Gerold a poke with my boot, waking him up. I nod to him, jerking my head towards the surrounding forest.

"Myself and Gerold are going to head off for a little while, we are just scouting out something, don't try and follow us, understand?" I say to the two girls.

Elena nods her head, Taria looks hurt at what I have just said, oh Gods, she probably thinks I'm going off into the forest for a tumble with Gerold! I give Taria a hard stare and she returns to her work, the two of them seem to be sewing something.

Gerold and I head off into the forest until I can be sure we are out of earshot, I motion for him to sit down on a rock, I squat and sit down on a fallen tree trunk.

Gerold looks at me in expectation, I let him wait, I have to collect my thoughts, and this just might be where I have to kill him.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#39

"So, Gerold, what do you plan to do? Are you going to take me back up north with Elena and Taria in tow, or are you going to slit our throats at the earliest opportunity and run off with the coin that Lady Alys gave you?" I ask him after the silence has unnerved him for long enough. I find the direct approach is best, especially as I can see his eyes with crystal clarity and can smell the scents that his body is producing. If I get a glimpse of anything I don't like or a whiff of any scent I don't like, I'll be digging a grave right here for Gerold.

"Why do you ask lass?" he replies.

"My name is Sanna, I'm not 'some lass'" I retort, annoyed with myself for having risen to such obvious bait. "I ask because it's a valid question, don't you think?"

Gerold smiles back at me "See, it's like this, I like money, never had much, any I've had never seems to stick to my fingers long enough to enjoy it. Now I have to admit that not having lots of money makes it hard to enjoy, but you get my meaning...Now I suddenly find myself with a purse of gold and silver bigger than I've ever had, and all I have to do is keep some lass, sorry!" he puts his hands up, splayed outwards in an apology "Sorry, all I have to do is escort this Sanna girl to where she wants to go. Now the money I've been given is quite a lot, so I figure that this Sanna girl must be quite valuable to someone."

My hand starts to drift lower, ever so slowly, inching towards my dagger, while my eyes never break contact with Gerold's.

"Now if she is worth that much, then I figure 'Gerold, if you deliver her safely to where she wants to go, then there is likely to be an even bigger bag of coin waiting for you'. And I've seen how you fight, I've never seen anything like it, fast, strong and very, very good, hells you might end up guarding me! So I figure I'll make easy money for only a little work!"

I relax my hand, I don't fully trust this sellsword with the easy smile and the handsome, if craggy face, but this answer will do for now, I hope.

Gerold gestures with his hand "I saw you inching for your knife, most men advertise what they are doing with their eyes, you don't, and you moved your hand so slowly that I almost didn't notice."

"I'm not most men" I reply dryly.

"That you are not La...I mean Sanna...I don't think I could take you so if you had wanted to kill me if I gave the wrong answer, you probably would have" Gerold says, flashing a grin that probably had opened many a maids legs across Westeros.

"Yes, I would have killed you if you had given the wrong answer" I reply flatly. "I'm still not sure if you have given the right answer though, so don't forget that I will kill you in an instant if I feel you are threatening me!" I let my eyes flash golden for a second, Gerold nearly falls off the rock he is sitting on. I can smell his fear, sudden and sharp, it's a delicious scent, rich with terror, I savor it, I have to resist licking my lips.

He recovers his balance and says in a voice that breaks slightly "So where is it that you want to go Sanna?"

"North!" I reply, standing up and heading back to the lean-to.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#45

We trot through the forest until we come to the cross roads that Gerold promised was there, we turn about and head north, our horses walking along at an easy pace.

Gerold is beside me, Taria and Elena are behind "Any particular place in the north?" Gerold asks.

"No" I reply, "for now just north."

He grunts a reply and drops back, trying to engage Taria in conversation, I smile to myself when all her answers are just one or two words, he next tries his luck with Elena, the girls stupid answers soon drive him back up beside me. He hands over a wineskin, which I take a slug from, handing it back.

"Care to tell me where you learned to fight like that?" he asks.

"No" I reply. Why can't he just shut up, I'm trying to think, what is the best way to get back north, with a slightly untrustworthy sellsword (was there any other type?) and two girls as, well as baggage...

But Gerold just will not get the hint, he stays beside me, I can tell he wants to say something "Out with it Gerold..." I say.

Gerold looks at me, I can smell nervousness coming off him in waves "I've seen lots of men killed, in lots of different ways..."

"I'm sure you have" I reply dryly.

"But, but I've never seen anyone kill like you do, you chopped that sellsword nearly in half! Your sword work is perfect, actually it's better than perfect, and fast, Gods, but you are fast..."

"And?" I ask, turning to give Gerold a level gaze.

"Who are you? Really?"

"You don't want to know who I am, trust me..."

"Oh? Is that so now?"

"Yes...that is so."

Gerold rides on beside me in silence for a few minutes; I know he wants to say more.

"What, what are you?" Gerold asks in a strangled voice "no one moves as fast as you do, you are stronger than me and you are but a slip of a girl..."

"And yet you decided to come along? Should I have killed you back when we had our 'conversation'? I can kill you now if you want..." my hand flashing down to the hilt of my sword.

Gerold, to his credit, does not react, his eyes never leave mine. I turn my eyes golden, his face registers his shock, but at least this time he keeps his balance.

"I'm a wolf" I reply, deadpan, and spur on my horse, leaving Gerold open mouthed behind me.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#49

As we continue through the forest that maddening scent continues to waft in my direction every now and then, distracting me. When we leave the forest the scent fades and disappears, much to my disappointment.

I am left alone with my thoughts for a while, what am I? What am I truly? Can I keep my wolfish companion under control, or can she manifest at will? The few times I have been in our wolfen form had felt quite dreamlike, almost as if I was along as a passenger, unable to control what was happening. I can feel my wolf slinking around my consciousness, for all the world trying to hide from my minds eye. With a twist of will I catch her and give her a mental shake 'out with it, when we are in our wolfen form, who is in control?' I ask, pouring my will into my internal voice.

'It's not that simple' replies my wolf, snarling and snapping, she does not like one bit being cornered by me.

'Make it simple then' I reply, mentally shrugging my shoulders.

'Right now we are two separate individuals, two souls. In this form you are dominant, but you have some of my powers - like strength, speed, balance, sense of smell, hearing, sight. When we assume the wolfen form I am dominant, but I get your reasoning, your memories, your ability to think and calculate. BUT...'

'But?'

'As time goes by the differences between us will slowly fall away, our souls will merge to an extent...'

'So you lied to me then...'

'Not exactly...what it will mean is that the powers you receive from me in your human form will become more acute while in our wolfen form it will not seem as much you experiencing my actions as sharing in them.'

'You should have been an advocate you know? I mean who would have thought it eh, a wolf with a sliver tongue? And transforming between our two forms?'

'Voluntarily initiated by you, for the most part...'

'For the most part...?'

'Extreme stress or danger could trigger me manifesting.'

'Like what nearly happened when I found out my Father and Brother were dead at the hand of the Mad King?'

'Yes, but you managed to stop it, did you not?'

'Hrmmph, anything else?'

'A full moon will make transforming easier, and over the years the transformation itself will become easier and faster. Now if you would mind letting me go, I want to go back to sleeping thank you very much.'

I let my wolf slink away into the recesses of my mind, I know a little bit more, but still I am troubled, I have killed with savage ease and little remorse ever since I awoke in a pool of Rhaegar's blood, even delighting in my new found physical prowess. I am not the girl who listened to a Prince's honeyed words at Harrenhall, am I even 'me' at all? I had heard the legends, the stories from Old Nan, and the whispered tales of Starks who were more than men, who were part wolf. All those tales of hero's always ended up badly for the men in question, either sacrificing themselves in battle or going mad and becoming monsters. So what was to be my fate then I wondered?

'You worry too much Lyanna Stark' replied my wolf, the image of a wolf yawning filling my head.

'Oh do I now?'

'Yes you do, would you prefer to be dead back in that Tower in Dorne? We live, we can hunt, we can be a power in the land, that is all that should concern us!'

'Easy for you to say...'

'You fret about things too much Lyanna Stark, you will soon embrace what you have become, fear not!'

I let out a sigh of frustration and decide that all this philosophy can wait for later; right now I have to figure out what is the best route to take to meet up with Ned and Robert. Should I stay in the Stormlands and risk the possibility of getting caught up in the internecine fighting like we just did or should we cut across the Reach, 'enemy' territory but likely quieter and less riven by conflict?

And then what about Kings Landing and that mad King that I had promised to slay for killing my father and brother? Could I get into the capital at all? Possibly. Could get past the guards and kill Aerys? Yes, and definitely yes if I did not care about surviving the encounter and if I transformed into my wolfen form. My wolf gives a snort of derision at that, it's confident that we could make it out alive even then.

But then what about Gerold, Taria and Elena? In my head I see two golden eyes stare back at me, I know what my wolf thinks, that is not me, I won't do that, I won't!

I have let Gerold catch back up with me, he seems quite blasé and nonchalant after what I just said to him, I get the feeling that he has decided that what I said to him was a jape, and that this whole thing is just some crazy dream or some such.

He is whistling a tune and as he trots his horse up beside me he gives me a wink "Good day to you Lady Wolf! A fine day to be out hunting, don't you agree!"

I just give him a withering stare in return.

"Never met a wolf that looked like a girl before, are there many of you in Westeros?" he says, a grin splitting his face.

I'm not going to respond to him trying to get a rise out of me.

"And your pack my Lady? Wolves normally have a pack do they not? Where is your pack? Are we your pack? Does that make me a wolf too?"

I stare stonily ahead.

"Fine, be like that." Gerold smiles back at me "See the thing is, wolves, well, they don't exactly, well, they are not know for their polite company, so I suppose you could be a wolf, but then again, wolves riding horses? nah, I don't buy it..."Gerold is grinning from ear to ear at me, his eyes positively twinkling with delight.

"Have it your way sellsword" I turn my face away from him and face the road ahead "Just don't say I never told you..."

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#51

I do feel responsible for all of them, in a way, even Gerold, if only to make sure that he does not leave the two women at the earliest opportunity and vanish off with his newly heavy purse. I glance back at the two women, Elena and Taria are chatting about something, the younger girl is morose, brooding over the death of her family no doubt. I should feel more sympathy for the girl; after all I have lost a father and a brother to this war to her mother and brother, but a part of me cannot bring myself to feel anything for the girl. Maybe when I have cut down the Mad King can I then properly commiserate with her, but then there is that whole 'southron princess' thing going on, at Harrenhall I got an eyeful of how the daughters of southern Lords behaved, mindless twits the vast majority of them, with only a very few exceptions. My mind settles on one in particular, my wolf growls her appreciation at the images flowing through my head, ah but that was quite the adventure, before Prince Fuckwit had ruined everything. I pull my mind away from some very pleasant memories, my wolf laughing uproariously in my head and turn my attention back to Elena. She struck me as a privileged and spoilt southron fool, her head stuffed with nonsense by a Septa, though if I was to be charitable to the girl I did barely know her, maybe I should try and get to know her better in that case?

Taria is trying to coax Elena out of her grief with soft words and sympathy. My heart lurches at this, Taria looks up and catches my gaze, a smile forms on her generous lips, her eyes sparkle back at me. I give a small smile back and return my gaze to the road ahead, I do not look at Gerold, I can feel his eyes on me, he gives a casual glance back at Taria.

"Fine looking wench that one" he says sotto voiced "bet she is warm and inviting in the cold of the night... "

I feel my jaw muscles bunch and clench at this, but I say nothing, I don't need to look at Gerold to see the smirk on his face.

I spur my horse on a little to get away from him, riding up a little ahead, scanning the land, we are still in the mountains of the Dornish Marches, taking a road that leads in a roughly north-eastern direction. The highest of the mountains rear around us, but this valley is wide and fertile, villages and towns dot its floor, farms and mills scattered across its expanse, in the hazy distance the valley widens and the mountains slump into heavily forested hills. I rack my brain, I think that just north of where the valley peters out is Harvest Hall, seat of House Selmy, still part of the Stormlands but with the Reach just beyond. That Harvest Hall is on the border is a worry, and given that Ser Barriston Selmy is in the Kingsguard his house is probably loyal to the crown, but unless we turn back and try a different route, its where we are heading.

Sometimes we camp in forests along the foothills, sometimes we pass through the villages, buying food and stopping to water the horses and if there is a Tavern, get a meal and if we are lucky a bath. Gerold has a bow and arrow wrapped up in a bundle on his other horse, I ask him to teach me to shoot, he confesses that he is not very good with it, admitting that he mainly used it for shooting rabbits and other small game. Over the next few days I practice every morning, Gerold looking on and as each day passes his frowns just get deeper and deeper.

I discover that I can shoot the bow like I was born to it, soon I'm shooting from all sorts of angles, shooting fast and accurate, able to loft arrows high into the air and down onto any target I want to. When I move to shooting from horseback Gerold gives up trying to teach me and leaves me to my own devices, muttering something dark, but not before he gave me his arm guard and chest guard. The chest guard is made of boiled leather with thin iron plates as backing, it vaguely reminds me of Stark Bannermen armor, and covers my chest and part of my upper stomach. It's not very comfortable to wear, it's too large and interferes with my drawing, never mind that my breasts get in the way, so I discard it. Taria however says that she can modify it to make it more 'comfortable', I'm a bit skeptical but I let her and Elena go to work on it, Gerold shrugs his shoulders at this.

As we reach the end of the valley the road turns almost directly north, at the last tavern the Inn Keep tells us that the road leads directly to Harvest Hall, but he warns us that bandits and roaming gangs of soldiers from both sides, every bit as bad as any bandits, infest the roads from a few miles north up to nearly the gates of Harvest Hall.

So we proceed with more caution, I have tried to teach Taria and Elena some fighting skills, but I find I don't have the patience for teaching, Gerold steps in and starts to teach the women how to use quarter staffs, a better weapon he chides me than trying to teach them how to fight with swords.

Elena shows real promise with the quarter staff, but I notice sourly that Gerold is paying much more attention to Taria in the training bouts, he charms the girl with an easy, smooth manner that makes my teeth grind. Taria and I still share nocturnal and sometimes not nocturnal trysts, she is as passionate as ever but I sense something is amiss, the girl is more wary around me, her eyes are sometimes clouded, her mind elsewhere.

Several days from the last village, as we pass through wild and forested country my ears pick out the distinctive sound of steel clashing with steel, I spur my horse on, our idyll could not last.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#52

The road curves up ahead, around a large outcropping of thickly vegetated and forested rock, I jump down from my horse and clamber up the outcropping, the sounds of a desperate battle are loud and coming from over the outcropping.

Gerold is clambering up after me, breathing hard and cursing under his breath that he is 'sick and tired of chasing after you'. I ignore him, my body flushed and ready for fighting, everything feels sharper, clearer, almost vibrating with life. At the top I belly crawl forwards, and gaze out at the scene below.

There are bodies scattered everywhere, some lying still, others moaning or screaming at their wounds, a group of six men in the center is fighting desperately as three times that number surrounds them, slashing and cutting at them. The men in the center are covered in blood and gore and look to be out on their feet, they won't last more than a minute or two more. To underscore this point one of their number falls under a flurry of swords blows, slumping to the ground, bleeding from several cuts and slashes.

The men surrounding the five wear various types of armor and clothing, but one catches my attention, he wears the colors and sigil of House Targaryen, that's enough for me. I stand up, pulling the bow from my shoulder and nocking an arrow, loosing one up into the air and drawing another one, firing again and again, my arrows punching downwards, impacting on heads and shoulders, men falling screaming. I fire off my entire quiver, I've hit about half of what I was aiming at, was I even aiming? I cannot consciously remember aiming. I discard the bow and quiver and draw my sword, leaping down a drop of about twenty feet, cushioning the jarring blow on my feet. I stagger slightly and then run down the steep slope, it's the kind of slope that if you try and stop yourself running down you will fall over. I reach the bottom and stumble a little; the battle's fortunes have changed dramatically the five men are now fighting with renewed vigor, pushing back their reduced assailants.

I charge at the group, two of the soldiers see me and disengage from fighting and charge me, drifting apart to either side of me, their eyes widen in shock when they see I am a woman and one of the men grins in anticipation of an easy fight.

They are upon me in a flash, I parry the first sword strike and dance away from the second strike, the other one sweeps in with his sword low and horizontal, hoping to cut my legs off. I jump up, slashing my sword down onto the first man, his companion has misjudged his sword sweep and he had to quickly jump back to avoid overbalancing from his horizontal strike. This gives me my opening, my blade bites deep into his shoulder and I wrench it free, landing just as the other man sweeps his sword back in another horizontal cut. I parry it this time, jumping back before moving in towards the man, my sword flashing in front of me with blinding speed, the man's sword falls from his hand, smashed out of his grip by my strength, I reverse the direction of my last slash and decapitate him.

A massive blow to my back staggers me, winding me and knocking me off my feet. I realize that I have been attacked from behind, I have dropped my sword but I go with the blow, rolling away as a sword comes slashing down, my hand whips to my dagger and hurls it, the blade burying itself between the legs of the man who tried to stick me with his sword. He screams and screams with a plaintive wailing as he slumps to his knees, he has dropped his sword and his hands are trembling as he tries to pull out my dagger. Gerold runs up to him and thrusts his sword through him, ending his wailing. My Valyrian Steel chain mail has apparently fully turned aside the sword thrust without breaking, for which I am thankful, but I'm sure I will sport a nice looking bruise from that blow.

I jump up, grabbing my sword and look around, the man in Targaryen colors is fighting a youth in bloodied plate armor, the youth is being steadily beaten back, exhaustion plain on his young face. I race forwards and just then the boy falls, his sword flying through the air as the Targaryen has hooked it away.

The Targaryen stands over the youth, gloating for just a second too long, I reach him and thrust my sword through the back of his neck, he goes rigid, drops his sword and when I pull back my blade he slumps to the ground to my left.

The youth looks up at me, shock on his face "You're, you're a girl!" he gasps.

Gerold strides up beside me just at this moment and says deadpan "I like this one, he's clever!"

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#58

The men who have survived collect themselves, giving the mercy stroke to any of their fallen comrades that need it, the Targaryen's are left to bleed out, whimpering and crying.

I reach down and offer the youth my hand, he grasps it and I haul him up with a quick jerk, his eyes widen at my strength.

I back away from him, Gerold at my right shoulder, putting some distance between us and the men.

The other four are older, wary and scarred looking, their eyes flat and lifeless, men who two minutes ago were expecting to die here.

They form up opposite to us, tension is still hanging in the air, despite us having come to their aid, they are wary, after all a slip of a girl and a slightly disreputable looking sellsword have just saved all their lives.

I only hear the soft trot of hooves at the last moment, so focused am I on the scene before me, Taria and Elena have decided to come see what was happening. I silently curse and remind myself to make sure that I point out to these two twits AGAIN that they are not to make themselves know unless I tell them it's safe to do so after a fight.

"Andrew!" shrieks Elena, spurring her horse forwards and leaping down off it to run at the youth, barreling into him, hugging him fiercely and sobbing.

I give Gerold a glance, he just raises an eyebrow in response.

"Elena, oh Gods Elena! what are you doing here?" The youth asks.

The girl begins to sob, the youths hand drops to the sword that he had retrieved, tightening his grip around its pommel.

Tell me this is not going to happen I inwardly groan.

Elena looks up into Andrews face and sobs "they are all dead...Andrew...Mother, Harlan, everyone, slaughtered, I only escaped because mother entrusted my safety to, to Lady Sanna and Ser Gerold..."

Gerold gives a wry snort of amusement at this, the youth turns to us and says "I am Ser Andrew Wallance, first born of Ser Roderik Wallance and knighted by Lord Robert Baratheon after the Battle of Ashford. I thank you for my sister's safety Lady Sanna, Ser Gerold."

I nod in reply, as does Gerold, but neither of us has relaxed, nor have the other men-at-arms I notice.

"My father charged me with riding back to our Keep after my mother got word of our neighbors threatening actions, I rode off with ten men, all that could be spared...and now my sister tells me that my family is dead, who was it sister?"

"The Wytons, the Duxfords and the Downham's" Elena replies shuddering at the memory.

"I must ride back, my family must be avenged!" Andrew declares, his face grim set.

"That's a one way trip to the Strangers halls lad" says Gerold, a look of sympathy on his face.

"Ser! Do you doubt my honor! My blood demands that I avenge my dead mother and brother!"

I step forwards quickly, imposing myself between Andrew and Gerold "Enough!" I bark, my voice harsh with command. "Enough!" I say in a softer tone "This bickering will get us nowhere, your sister needs you Andrew, and she needs you alive, not dead. Your mother has charged myself and Gerold with transporting your sister safely into your fathers charge, we swore to her that we would carry this out, and we will carry out our sworn duty!" I stare hard into the youths face.

"And what if I command you to disobey my Mother?" he asks, face set and eyes beginning to cloud with anger.

"Your Mother is dead, her sworn orders cannot be broken, by me, by him" I jerk a thumb at Gerold "or by you..."

Silence hangs in the air for a moment, two moments, then the youth seems to deflate, staggering a little.

"You are right Lady Sanna, of course, please accept my apologies for insulting you, the savior of my sister. And you Ser Gerold, I am, I am a little, overwrought by all of this..."

"Do not fret Ser Andrew, it is perfectly understandable, now what are we to do?" I ask.

The youth ponders this, turning to his companions "Well Hendrik?" he asks of the oldest and biggest of the men.

"My Lord, if what your sister tells us is true, there is no reason for us to continue, as Ser Gerold says that way only lies the Strangers peace. Your mother has charged these valiant warriors with returning your sister to your father, we should accompany them. There is no dishonor in doing this my Lord..."

Andrew seems to think on this for a moment, then nods his head "Very well, you speak wise words as ever Hendrik. Lady Sanna, Ser Gerold, you will accompany me as we return my sister to my father and we shall rejoin Robert Baratheon's army!"

With that the other men start to strip the bodies of the fallen and then go to get the horses, their own and those of the dead Targaryen's.

Gerold whispers in my ear "Congratulations on joining Robert Baratheon's army lass, are you not going to congratulate me on my elevation to the Knighthood?"

"Shut Up!" I hiss in response.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#60

Our enlarged party heads off up the road after about half an hour, I ride alone at the rear of the column, fuming and angry, that little shit thinks that just because he's some petty knight, barely above a hedge knight, that he can presume to take charge? He and his men-at-arms are at the head of the column; Elena is also up there with them, deep in conversation with her brother and Hendrik, both of whom are glancing back at me with a worrying frequency.

Between us and them are a line of horses, mine and the captured Targaryen ones, laden with our various spoils, we will probably sell and few of them in the next large town that we come across, along with some of the swords and armor that has been looted. Blacksmiths know that with a war on having this sort of gear on hand is good for business, and we should get some decent coin for it, or so Gerold says.

Gerold for once is not riding alongside me, he is behind me talking to Taria, I can hear what they are saying thanks to my better hearing but I tune out the conversation, it feels too much like eavesdropping. Up ahead Andrew wheels his horse around and trots back down towards me, as his mount nears me it shies, throwing its head and stamping its feet, refusing to move or behave until Andrew digs his spurs into its flank and tugs fiercely at the reigns.

He pulls alongside me, his horse still not at all happy to be near to me, its eyes are rolling in its head and it's snorting and still trying to toss its head.

"I don't know what's gotten into her!" Andrew laughs, but there is a slight concern on his face at the antics of his mare.

'I do' I think in my head, knowing that the horse can smell the wolf from me and she does not like being close to me one bit. I could try and calm the beast, but decide against it.

Eventually Andrew gets the horse under some semblance of control, and turns to me "I have been talking to my sister, she tells me that you are a great warrior and a fierce fighter...I have never heard of you before Lady Sanna, and neither has Hendrik..."

"I'm not from around here..." I reply, not really wanting to have this conversation.

"Your accent in northern my Lady, are you from the North?"

"Yes"

The youth nods a response, he is clearly struggling to say what he has to say, he clears his throat "where did you learn how to handle a blade and shoot a bow?"

"From my father and brother" I reply, pain stabbing at my heart at having to remember them.

"They must have been mighty warriors!" exclaims the youth "As the North is pledged to Robert Baratheon I would like to meet your Father and Brother, to thank them for creating such a warrior!"

I cannot tell this young fool that they are dead, killed by the Mad King, it's too raw, too painful for me to say anything, I just nod in response, sniffling a little to make sure I don't cry.

"Even though I am a woman?" I hear myself asking, for what reason I do not know.

"The Seven does state that it is the duty of the Knight to protect the Maiden, but I suppose sometimes life cannot be like that..."

Well at least he was not a complete fool then, I look at him more fully, dark honey blonde haired and blue eyed, looked like he was broad shouldered under that plate, handsome, but he knows just how handsome he was, which made him seem just a little arrogant.

I decide to ask him about what he has seen of the war so far, I quickly regret it, just like his younger brother I get a rendition of 'this knight did that', 'Glory and Honor' etc. etc. etc. So maybe he is a complete fool after all? I tune out the boys nattering, part of me is still listening though as I can tell that he is trying to impress me.

Maybe I should ask him to join me tonight for a tryst in the woods, and transform in front of him and ask if he wants to fuck me? I let out an involuntary laugh at this image, Andrew seems to think I have laughed at some lame story he was telling, the boy is not sure how to react, so he gives a laugh himself, but I can hear the nervousness and insecurity below it.

That night we make camp by the banks of a river, the Wallance's have tents, which they pitch, they offer myself and Gerold space to sleep inside them, but the night is warm, plus I prefer to sleep outside, my senses are better attuned to the darkness that way. Hendrik takes the first watch, I will take the second, despite the protest of Ser Andrew. Rather than turn in I set off into the night, telling Hendrik that I will be back in about an hour, I move silently upstream until I find what I am looking for, a small, rocky protrusion out into the river, which is flat but only a few feet above the water's edge. I strip off and slip into the water, luxuriating in the feel of the nigh dark water as I swim for a bit, it's more to get clean than for anything else.

I haul myself out of the water a shiver a little bit as I dry off, before putting back on my clothes. I have not had my monthly bleeding since I left the Tower of Joy, I know I cannot be pregnant and I wonder if the bloody birth of Rhaegar's bastard has robbed me of the ability to bear more children. Somewhat glumly I return and take over from Hendrik, I have sensed where he is watching from, and I creep up on him, successfully surprising him. He glowers at me, then a grin splits his worn, aged face "Well done lass, you know the forests well I see?"

I shrug my shoulders "Good night Hendrik" I reply, he just shakes his head and heads back to the camp. I move off, I will be keeping watch from a different position, one that suits my sense of smell and hearing much better. I let my wolf vision come to the fore, the darkness of the forest replaced by a bright vista of greys, and I settle down to watch and listen.

There it is again, that scent, but subtly different, tickling my nose, it's stronger this time, closer. And then I hear it, a heartbeat behind me, faint, oh so very faint, but getting stronger. I hear the footfalls, quiet on the forest floor, padding slowly, hesitantly forwards, then backwards, then off to one side, before resuming its cautious approach.

I turn around slowly to look at the creature stalking me, it's a mottled grey female timber wolf, who stops and stares into my eyes, before resuming her approach. I reach out a hand and she sniffs at it, before giving my hand a lick. Tears well up in my eyes and fall down my face, splashing onto the dry leaves on the forest floor.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#61

I am dreaming again, this time I find myself in the great hall at Winterfell, the hall is packed, two people sit at the high table, the handsome youth I last saw with the wildlings and the red headed girl who was present when I dreamt of Ned's beheading.

They both look different, older, sadder somehow. I look into the youth's face, my heart breaks with what I see there, I feel my heart wrench in my chest, I feel tears falling down my checks. The pain on the youths face, the distance stare in his eyes, tell me of hard battles fought and barely won. I want to rush up to him, to enfold him in my arms, to hug him, to tell him everything will be alright, I cannot explain why I feel this sudden, almost maternal rush, but it is frightening in its intensity. The girl looks regal, her bearing is not that of the girl I saw before, this is a Stark woman, proud, haughty, confident, strong, her beauty is captivating to behold, it will take a man of rare strength and intelligence to capture the heart of this beauty.

The youth and the girl both wear Stark furs, outside the windows snow is falling in great, heavy sheets.

"Winter has come' I whisper to myself.

I turn my attention to the hall, the youth is standing and saying 'The war is not over, and I promise you friend, the true enemy won't wait out the storm, he brings the storm!'

A hubbub of heated conversation greets this statement, I scan the room, I don't recognize anyone, there are house sigils displayed but I cannot match the faces to the men I know, there are also southron Knights present, many of them...and wildlings! What is going on here?

In the places where the Lords of the North would sit is a young girl, in the distinctive clothes of House Mormont, she can be no more than eleven namedays, maybe twelve at most. She stands 'Your son was butchered at the Red Wedding Lord Manderly, but you refused the Call!'

I look at the man she is speaking to, is this Wyman Manderly? He looks like him, much older and fatter though. The man looks away, he cannot hold the fierce gaze of this girl.

'You swore allegiance to House Stark Lord Glover, but in their hour of greatest need, you refused the Call! And You!' she nods across the hall to a young Lord 'Lord Cerwyn, your father was skinned alive by Ramsey Bolton, still, you refused the Call!' The young Lord drops his eyes, unable to meet the girl's eyes.

'But House Mormont remembers! The North REMEMBERS! We know no King but the King in the North whose name is Stark! I don't care if he is a bastard, Ned Starks blood runs through his veins, he's My King, from this day until his last day!'

The girl nods at the young man at the high table and sits down.

The Manderly Lords stands up 'Lady Mormont speaks harshly, and truly! My son died for Rob Stark, the young Wolf. I didn't think that we would find a King in my lifetime. I didn't commit my men to your cause, because I didn't want any more Manderly's dying for nothing. But I was wrong! Jon Snow avenged the Red Wedding! He is the White Wolf!" With this Lord Manderly draws his sword and proclaims 'The King in the North!' as he kneels with his sword before him, sword point resting on the stone flags.

Lord Glover stands up 'I did not fight beside you on the field, and I will regret that till my dying day. A man can only admit when he was wrong, and ask forgiveness.'

'There is nothing to forgive my Lord' says this Jon Snow, who has all the looks of the wolfish Starks in his face and manner.

'There will be more fights to come! House Glover will stand behind House Stark as we have for thousands of years! And I will stand behind Jon Snow!' Lord Glover draws his sword and holds it in the air before him, blade raised. 'THE KING IN THE NORTH!' roars Lord Glover, as he reverses his sword and knells beside Lord Manderly. The hall erupts into wild cheering as all the Northmen draw their swords and start cheering, even the Vale knights join in, airing their swords and pledging their allegiance to this bastard of my brother Ned.

What must have happened to the Starks that a bastard was proclaimed as the King in the North? And what of the rest of the Seven Kingdoms? Had the rule of the Iron Throne shattered so much that the North and the Vale were breaking away from the rest of Seven Kingdoms? And Ned fathering a Bastard?

The dream twists again, to a room of smoky darkness, harsh foreign chanting fills the air, in the middle the white haired girl I have seen before is eating something, it looks like the heart of some animal. I look around, the place is filled with half naked savages, Dothraki I realize, from illustrations I have seen in books. She tears at the flesh of the heart, her face smeared in blood, locking eyes with a huge Dothraki warrior, a Khal from the look of it. He is quite the handsome specimen I think, fierce, savage, willful.

I notice two men at the side, one has the same white blond hair as the girl, another Targaryen. Beside him is a westerossi man, he has the look of a knight.

'She has to eat the whole heart? I hope it wasn't my horse!'

'She's doing well' the knight responds.

'She'll never keep it down!' the first retorts.

The chanting is hypnotic, savage, brutal, as the girl tears and chews the though meat of the horses heart.

'Tell me what she is saying?' asks the silver haired youth to the knight, asking his companion to translate the chanting of the pagan priestesses.

'The prince is riding, I have heard the thunder of his hooves, swift as the wind he rides, his enemies will cower before him, and their wives will weep tears of blood...she's going to have boy!'

'He won't be a real Targaryen' the first man announces with disdain evident in his voice 'he won't be a true dragon!'

The girl pitches forwards, looking like she is going to be sick, the chanting stops abruptly, all that can be heard is the girls coughing and spluttering, everyone's attention is riveted on her.

She sobs a few times, before pushing herself back upright and swallowing the last of the horse flesh with an audible gulp.

One of the priestesses starts chanting again, the silver haired youth asks again for his companion to translate.

'The Stallion who mounts the World! The Stallion, is the Khal of Khals, he shall unite the people into a single Khalisar. All the people of the world will be his heard!'

The girl cries out in a harsh language, I find that I can understand what she is saying 'A Prince rides inside me! And he shall be called Rhaego!

The savages take up the chant 'Rhaego! Rhaego! Rhaego!'

The Khal stands up and approaches the girl.

'They love her?' says the Targaryen youth, amazement and resentment in his voice.

The dream fades away to nothing, what do these dreams mean? Why am I having them?

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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Jul 14, 2017

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#64

As we break our fast Taria is busy cooking and handing out bowls of porridge, she has an easy manner with everyone and seems especially attentive to Gerold. I sulk away and eat my porridge quickly, before attending to my horse, behind me comes the clash of steel as Andrew and one of his Men-at-Arms practice fighting. Gerold is grooming his horse, he glances at me "they are not bad, the young pup needs seasoning though...you might be able to sprinkle some salt on his tail!" he winks at me. I roll my eyes heavenwards at this remark, Andrew has seen me watching him, he waves over with his sword "Lady Sanna, will you practice with me? My sister says you fight well!"

Oh great, so either I will have to throw a few fights to preserve what is sure to be the boys brittle ego, or I beat him down quick and savage and show my superiority. Also since when did southron Knights fight ladies? I chalk it down to the lad's youth and draw my sword, Hendrik stands back to adjudicate.

Ten minutes later and it's over, we settle on 3-3, a draw, Andrew is happy and congratulates me on my strength and speed, tossing over a wine skin filled with water, I drink deeply from it, pouring some over my head. With that we start to break camp to set out on our days ride.

Hendrik comes over to me and says in a low voice "Why did you let him win three fights?"

"He would not look good losing to a girl in front of his sworn men..."

"Aye, that is true, but Gods girl, you are better than him by, by leagues, you could have ended those fights in seconds, had you chosen to...'

"But I did not. You have seen wars Hendrik, you know what they are like, let's hope young Andrew lives to find out what war is truly all about. Let him have his notions, his dreams of valor and honor."

"That will get him killed Lady Sanna..."

"Everything in war can get you killed Hendrik" I say, narrowing my eyes before walking off and getting my gear ready for us to move out. I idly wonder if the wolf from last night will follow me.

The day's journey is rather uneventful, we see some men on horseback a few miles away but they do not come our way, I catch the scent of the female wolf from last night on air during the morning, along with the scents of other wolves, we are being followed from the forests that dot the landscape, the wolves probably won't cross open ground during daylight, so they will wait till nightfall to catch up to us.

As we make camp for the night I head off into the woods, with my bow, saying that I will hunt some game for supper, I discard my clothes and human form and run through the woods, the smell of my wild cousins strong on the night breezes. I come to a small clearing and stop, ahead of me is the female wolf, beside her is a male, I realize that they are the alpha pair of the pack, which now slinks from the forest to surround me. I stand rock still, my arms at my side, looking at the two wolves ahead of me, the female moves first, trotting forwards, the male growls at her, she turns her head back to the male and shows her fangs, and resumes trotting towards me. She halts several feet away from we, regarding me curiously with her eyes and sniffing the air vigorously, testing my scent. Satisfied she walks the last few feet to me and I put out my taloned hand for her to lick, which she does.

Her mate follows her and soon the two wolves are licking my left hand, I sink to my knees and the rest of the pack comes forwards to sniff and lick at me.

The pack follows me back to where I left my clothes, as I transform back into a human the alpha male growls at me, his female gives him a very sharp bite to the side of his throat for his trouble. I put back on my clothes and return to the camp, apologizing for having caught nothing, so its salt pork again for supper. Gerold and Taria are missing from the camp, I catch their scent and follow it out into the woods, I soon hear what they are doing, I should not go any further, there is no need to see this, bile burns the back of my mouth, I can barely swallow past the lump in my throat, tears well in my eyes.

Taria has her dress pulled up and Gerold is mounting her from behind, none too gently either, each of her moans and gasps of pleasure are as a dagger through my heart. Their rutting goes on for quite a long time until finally Gerold spends himself in her, to much moaning and satisfied groaning from both of them. I slink away and dash back to the camp, helping Hendrik prepare the meal, the salt pork has been steeped and is now cooking, there are some roots boiling in a pot over the fire. Taria emerges from the forest, her arms full on small braches of wood, she dumps it near the fire and moves off, several minutes Gerold emerges from a different direction, announcing that he had a quick 'look around' and that everything was clear.

Hendrik gives me a quick look, his mouth turned up into a half smirk, whispering "And you and I came down to earth with the last rain shower" winking at me. I nod my head, saying nothing in response.

The evening meal is a rather quiet affair, and I cannot look at either Gerold or Taria, instead I flirt with Andrew, I've spent my life around boys in Winterfell, I'm no delicate flower who does not know how to talk to boys and who blushes when one talks to her. We talk about hunting, about fishing, about fighting and riding horses. I flick my hair, I bat my eyelashes, I laugh at his jokes, I give him stares that make him blush. Yes, I am overreacting, yes I am leading the poor boy on, but it feels good, petty, but good.

Taria gets up in a huff, shoots me a murderous glance and storms off.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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Jul 15, 2017

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Jul 16, 2017

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#70

Eventually only Andrew and I are left at the fire, I've toned down the flirting and the boy seems confused by my sudden coolness towards him, the rather pained look on his face is actually quite comic, if it were not so tragic.

Taria and Gerold have managed to snag one of the smaller tents that the Wallances have and the sounds of noisy lovemaking soon emanate from the tent, despite it being pitched a little bit away. Andrew looks embarrassed, to the hells with it, I stand up and grab a blanket, turning to Andrew and grinning "Well, what are you waiting for?"

My wolf howls with laughter in my head at this, finding my 'antics' as she calls them hilarious. She cannot understand why I have not used our superiority to, at the very least 'scare off' Gerold, or even outright kill him for his 'interference'. My wolf fails completely to get the nuances and subtleties of human behavior, especially when it comes to affairs of the heart. She snorts at that, reminding me that for a wolf, it is only ever about power, the Alpha's mate and no others. She does however approve of Andrew, liking the bulk of his shoulders and his slim waist; she all but licks her lips at the thought of our coupling to come.

He looks surprised, then delighted, standing and wiping his hands on his trousers, and glancing around, slightly nervously. He follows me out into the darkness of the forest, I step surefooted through the underbrush, finding a sheltered spot, I lay down the blanket, turning to Andrew, I draw my shirt over my head, pull off my boots and wriggle out of my leathers, standing in a shaft of pale moonlight.

Andrew breathes heavily as he disrobes, his body lean and muscular, I like the look of it, his pillar is quite decently sized, I stalk forwards, turning up my face to his, I place my hands on his chest, my sharp nails scratch lightly at the deep muscles there, he hisses as my nails leave thin bloody marks down his chest. I slide my arms up over his chest and around his neck, I jump up lightly, wrapping my legs around his lower back, so that my face is level with his. I look into his eyes, they are a dark blue to my grey blue "Yesss" I hiss, pushing my lips onto his, opening my mouth.

Later we lie together in the dark, the blanket half pulled over us, I rest my head on Andrew's chest, liking the slow rise and fall of his breathing, the sound of his heartbeat loud in my ears. I hate to have to do this but I must, I do not want him to be under any illusions. I turn to lie atop him, he gets the wrong idea and thinks I want him again, I do, but I need to say this first.

"Andrew, stop, listen to me!" I say, he does not seem to be getting the message, so I drop a hand down between our bodies and take a firm handhold, squeezing. That gets his attention; I smile sweetly at him "As I was saying..."

He gives a gasp of relief when I let go, I search his face, his eyes, it has to be now.

"I was no maid Andrew, you must know that?"

"Yes, I know, that does not matter to me, I don't care what people will think..."

Damm, I knew this would happen, men and their dammed ideas!

"Andrew, we are in the middle of a war, a rebellion, we are surrounded by enemies, neither of us may see our homes ever again, we may not even see nightfall tomorrow, take this for what it is, just two people in the night..."

He looks at me with those blue eyes and I can see hurt there, pain, and flashes of anger. Men! Men and their stupid gods dammed pride.

"When we reach Robert Baratheon's army I will seek out your father and ask for your hand! I may have little, I may only be a Knight, but by the Seven Sanna, you are the most amazing woman I've ever met, no girl or women has ever made me feel this way!"

Great, just great, I knew this was coming, blasted southron knights and their chivalry, what a load of old rubbish!

"You won't be able to find my father Andrew, he is dead, killed in this war, and, and I am promised to another man, it is part of the reason I too must return to Robert's Army, he fights in that host..."

Andrew looks crestfallen, his eyes go dim, like rain clouds scudding across the sun.

"We may never reach them, he might be dead by the time we reach Robert's Army, we cannot know the future Andrew" I grip the sides of his head as he turns away from me "Look at me! Andrew, look at me, pledge me something, please?"

He nods his head, not looking too happy.

"When we reach Robert's Army, forget me, do not try and fight my betrothed for my hand out of some misplaced sense of honor, he will kill you with nary a moments thought! Please, swear that you will not fight him!"

"I swear!" he replies, somewhat reluctantly.

"Now" I maneuver myself on top of him, "I believe that we were going to have another go?"

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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Jul 16, 2017

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Jul 17, 2017

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#71

When we return to the camp it is late, one of the men-at-arms is on guard, he cannot hide his smirk as he sees us return, I don't care really, but if he starts making any snide comments that I will overhear in the days to come he is losing his cock to my claws one dark night.

I sit at the fire, not wanting to sleep, I will take over from the man-at-arms in an hour or so anyway, I might as well stay up. I stare into the fire, the flames dancing hypnotically, seeming to sway with my heartbeat, there is something very wrong with these flames, I cannot pull my eyes away, I can hear whispers in the low crackling of the logs as they burn, can see images dancing behind the flames. The fires are calling to me, whispering, pleading, they seem to grow and grow, expanding until there is nothing but the flames, nothing but the scorching, purifying heat. I can feel the fire drawing near to me, its tendrils licking around me, I am not scared for some reason, I want the embrace of the flames. It will be so easy to slip into their comforting grip, to let them burn away all the pain, all the hurt.

"My lady!"

"Wha?" I ask, my brain befuddled.

"The fire!"

I jump back, the fire has spilled out from the stones that are meant to contain it was roaring around to either side of me, like a hurricane. There is a screech of inhuman frustration and the fires seem to collapse back on themselves, returning to their normal, merry flickering. I take another step backwards, my face feels scorched, my whole body is boiling hot. The last thing I saw in the flames before they died down was a woman's face, that red priestess I have dreamt about before. I growl deep in my throat, I will remember her! I feel the wolf wanting to get free, to escape from here, to run free.

"My lady?" asks the man-at-arms, fear in his voice.

"Yes?" I croak, willing the change to go away.

"Are, are you well my Lady? You sounded as if you were being sick there?"

"No, I am well, thank you Jared, I will spell you now, you may retire."

"Thank you my Lady."

With that I stride away from the fire and into the darkness of the wood and settle down, it does not take long for my cousins to appear, even in my human form they fully accept me, nuzzling and licking me, I feel my wolf exulting in my head, to be accepted back by her kind is very pleasing to her.

I can sense strange things moving in my head, concepts, ideas, picture constructs that seem alien, fragmented, confusing, frightening. I concentrate on them, there is a rush of them, like many streams of different colored water, all running side by side, twisting, tumbling, intertwining, but never mixing. I try and pick out a stream, with a jolt I realize it's the thoughts of the alpha female.

Wolf thoughts are strange, full of picture concepts and strange names for things, I concentrate; the alpha female gives a start, jumping back, looking around her frantically, a low growl in her throat. The rest of the pack reacts, the streams in my head blaze into raging torrents. I reach out a hand and touch the female, she gives a giant shake and goes rigid, turning her gaze to me. Our eyes meet, our consciousness slide into each other, I understand her and she understands me, I can see the sum of her memories, her experience. It is almost too much, I jerk away my hand, but I can still sense her mind, the stream that is her consciousness is more vibrant, more striking.

The alpha male steps forwards and nuzzles my hand, the same thing happens, and I get an amazing revelation, each wolf has a unique language and set of concepts for the world around it, the female calls me 'Beautiful Claw', while the male calls me 'Warrior Bitch', they have different words and concepts for all of their life experiences. But now the female is looking at the male strangely, in my head I can see their thought streams merging, beginning to pulse in harmony. Then I realize it, through me they are communicating telepathically, learning each others language. I spend the next two hours touching each of the pack and by the end I have a soft, shimmering glow at the back of my mind, the susurrus of the packs massed minds, speaking to each other through me.

The pack scampers about, jumping and yipping, they seem genuinely delighted by this, their consensus is that they will be able to take much more prey with this added ability. The pack is so delighted that the alpha male asks if I would like to become his alpha female, much to the snarling annoyance of the current alpha female. I try and explain that I cannot, the alpha female comes in close and gives me a good sniffing, she knows that I have mated but is curious that I have done so as I am not in estrus. I smile at having to explain human sexuality to wolves, they just do not seem to get it, so I give up.

The pack decided that they will follow me, that my wondrous gift is too precious and that I must be protected, they plead with me again to join them , but I refuse, so they decide that they will 'adopt' my pack as part of theirs. I smile at this, but I warn them that they must stay hidden, that my human pack mates might not understand, they seem to grasp this, they prefer to stay hidden anyway, humans often hunt and kill them.

Eventually I have to leave my lupine cousins to their own devices, they have caught the scent of some deer and they want to give chase, I nearly transform and join them, but decide against it. The pack disperses back silently into the forest, in a few minutes I cannot hear them anymore, but I can hear their minds, joyous in the hunt as they track the scent, learning how to use their new found ability to communicate with each other silently. I concentrate and push them down into the back of my mind, my wolf says that she will keep an ear on them at all times, just in case, smiling that she can now revel in being a true wolf again, if only through our cousins thoughts.

I resume my watching, listening and sniffing. There is nothing but the sounds of the forest and as dawn breaks I return to the camp, Taria is up, starting on the food for us to break our fast. Our eyes meet for only the briefest of seconds, she puts her head down and concentrates on her work, Gerold slides up behind her and nuzzles her neck, grabbing her waist. I turn away and decide to start my warm up exercises, we train and spar for an hour first thing in the morning, break our fast and then are on our way.

This morning I am sparring with Gerold, he looks wary as we circle and strike, I don't use my speed and power, I keep things slow and easy, by my standards at least, but Gerold is soon huffing and his features are strained with effort.

At the end I smirk "Tired Gerold, did not get much sleep?"

He glares at me in return, I just smile sweetly, noticing Andrew has finished sparring with one of his men-at-arms I give him a sultry look, the boys face reddens and I hear Hendrik bellows out a laugh.

I go to my gear and pick up my bow and a quiver of arrows, I marked some trees with notches and circles yesterday for this very purpose, at one hundred, two hundred and three hundred paces. I calm my mind, toss some leaves up into the air and watch them fall, I take out my arrows and plant them tip first in the earth before me.

I take a deep breath and then snap my hand down, pulling up the first arrow, I bend the bow back and lose the arrow, I'm already drawing back the second arrow before the first one has impacted. I shoot the entire quiver like that, lose, pick up a new arrow, lose, repeat. When it's over I look down range, every arrow has impacted within the circles that I carved on the trees.

Behind me the camp is looking on in stunned silence, I simply smile back at them and trot off down range to retrieve my arrows. It's a rather subdued bunch that breaks their fast that morning.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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Jul 17, 2017

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Jul 18, 2017

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#74

I ride on ahead of our party, I can feel their eyes on me, I don't care, I just don't care anymore. If need be I can shed my clothes and disappear into the wood to live with my wolf cousins for the rest of my life. They accept me, they don't judge me, they don't look askance at me, I am one of them and they are one of me, it is simple. Deep in my mind I can just about hear them, they are sleeping, resting with full bellies after a successful hunt. I hear hooves come up behind me, I know it's Taria, I catch her scent, but Gerold's scent is heavy on her now, obscuring her clean apple scent with something muskier.

"Sanna" she says, not looking at me, her head hangs down, her hair obscuring her face, like she does not want to look at me.

"Yes Taria" I reply, not taking my eyes away from my search of the road ahead and the flanks to either side of the road.

"Are you mad at me? Is that why you have taken Andrew to bed?" she asks.

I sigh, what to say, what to do?

"Like you Taria, I like peaches and cream, but a girl needs a bit of good beef now and then..."

"So you are not mad at me then?"

"No" how can I be mad at her? Yes I was furious at her at the time, yes I took Andrew between my legs partly in revenge, but this was all so petty, so tragic. Here we are, trying to sneak through a hostile land, trying not to get ourselves killed, and our biggest concern was a love spat. My wolf laughs uproariously, obscenely in my head at this.

"You know, I told Gerold about you, and me, he, he did not seem to mind, said I could lie with you if I wanted."

"Did he ask if he could join in?" I snarl back at her.

"No, he did not"

"Well I bet he has thought it! Sorry Taria, I'm sorry..."

"And do you want to lie with me Taria?" I ask, my voice low.

"Yes, no, I don't know, It's different with you, there is something dangerous about you, but you are so tender, so loving, so different..."

"Andrew's scratches and bites might tell you a different story" I smirk back at the girl.

She blushes a deep red "Elena suspects that her brother is in love with you..."

"She suspects correct..."

"And you Sanna, are you in love with him?" Taria asks, her voice wavering just slightly.

"No, he is a nice handsome young buck, but I am promised to another. I have told the young fool that we should just enjoy our bodies and leave it at that."

"He, he won't be able to Sanna, I see the way he looks at you."

"You are probably right, but I have told him. My intended would crush him like a beetle if he makes a scene."

"What's your intended like?" asks Taria.

"Strong, fierce, powerful..."

"Like you then" replies Taria in a little voice.

"No, well maybe a little like me" I reply, the slightest of smiles on my lips.

"Will he take you back, after all this?" Taria asks.

"You mean after he cannot be sure that my honor and virtue is intact?" I ask ironically.

"Yes."

"I don't really care if I'm honest, I owe it to my dead father and brother to come back, and to my living brothers. If my betrothed does not want me there is plenty that I can do, and I hear that they are always looking for sellswords in Essos!"

Taria gasps at this, and we ride on in silence for a while.

"What, what will happen when we reach Robert's Army?" Taria asks, turning her face to look at me.

I turn back to look at her "I will meet by Betrothed, if he is in a good mood he is sure to reward all of you handsomely for my safe return, the same with Elena's father, though my future husband is richer than Elena's father. Gerold could enlist in Robert's Army, good soldiers are always needed, after the war, if you stop him from gambling it all away, you might be able to open an Inn or a Tavern someplace."

"What, what if I said I wanted to stay with you?" Taria asked, her voice trembling.

I suppress a smile, ole Gerold might not have such a hold over this one as he thinks his cock gives him. "I'm sure that I could find something for you to do, you could be one of my handmaidens, or something like that."

Taria gives a squeak, I don't know if it's with delight or with fright.

"But I will require something in return" Taria looks over at me, her eyes have a blank stare that tells of her knowing that her flesh has a price, there is a smile on her lips but is as false as a warm breeze in autumn.

"No Taria, I will not force you, if you want me you must come willingly. No I want something else..."

"What?"

"You were a whore once, I want you to teach me all you know of the arts of pleasing men!"

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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Jul 18, 2017

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Jul 18, 2017

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#75

In the end we decide to skirt Harvest Hall and instead journey almost due north, when we cross over into the Reach the atmosphere changes abruptly, the land seems at peace, there is none of the hunted feeling of the Stormlands. We travel quite openly, there appears to be very little soldiers about and also little in the way of bandit activity. This does not last that long however as once we cross the Blueburn the familiar sights or war return. Burnt villages, destroyed farmhouses, fields ploughed up under the hooves of warhorses, patrols of wary looking soldiers, and bandits, always bloody bandits.

We are nearing the Roseroad when we approach a village that has the all too familiar sounds of a pillage coming from it, it's not being pillaged by soldiers, there would be lookouts posted, so this must be bandits. The village is a tiny hamlet, a few stone houses with thatched roofs huddled together, nothing more. There is screaming coming from two of the cottages, several bodies lie sprawled in the mud outside, the men of the village butchered while their womenfolk entertain the bandits.

I leap off my horse and dash forwards, Andrew and Gerold following behind, the other men-at-arms are professionals, and they spread out to cover any potential escape routes. I'm at the door of the first cottage just as one of the bandits walks out, looking back over his shoulder he is talking to whoever is still inside "Just going for a piss, be back in a moment, I want the little one next."

"Fuck Off you cunt! She's mine next" someone roars out from inside.

The first bandit is just about to make a suitably witty and sophisticated retort when my sword skewers him through his throat, punching out the back of his neck. His eyes go wide, his hands reach up to grasp my sword, trying to pull it out. I decide to help him and jerk my sword back suddenly, the man pitches forwards with a thud, dead. I dash inside, the sudden change from bright outside to dim interior blinding me. I close my eyes, relying on my ears and nose, I twist my head back and forth quickly, slashing out with my sword I skewer bandit number two, he of the classy 'fuck off you cunt, she's mine next'. He dies screaming as my sword severs his spine, he had been in the process of getting up off the prone form of a women lying on the floor. From next-door I hear a roar and the sound of steel on steel, Andrew and Gerold are fighting the bandits in there, I open my eyes, they have adjusted somewhat, in the next room I can hear a man getting up and a little girls sobbing, the man jumps out of the other room, an axe raised high, I swipe my sword low in a rising arc, castrating him and opening up a long slash in his belly, his guts pour out of him in a sudden, wet, stinking rush and he trips over them and falls to the floor screaming piteously. I step over him and into the other room, on the floor is a girl who cannot be more than nine namedays old.

A snarl grows in my throat, the girl screams and throws herself into a ball, I curse, retrace my steps and roar out the doorway "Alive, I want some of them ALIVE!" and then I go back into the cottage, and into the far room. I wipe my sword on the tunic of the still whimpering and crying bandit and sheath it, approaching the little girl, getting down on my haunches I look at her, dirty seal brown hair, ragged dress torn open, tear streaked face, huge blue eyes.

"It's okay sweetling, the bad men will never hurt you again" I whisper, putting as much conviction into my voice as I can. The girl just sniffs and wipes her nose on her sleeve, staring at me with unfocused eyes, there is blood between her legs. I reach down slowly into my purse and pull out a gold dragon.

"Do you know what this is sweetling?"

The girl shakes her head.

"It's a Gold Dragon" I reply, probably enough to buy this village and everything in it I muse. "Good girls get these, do you know that? See here look at the Dragon on the coin, look! It has three heads, isn't that just silly!"

The girl snatches the coin out of my hand and looks at it, I move a little closer to her, she does not back away, that's a good sign.

Behind me the woman that had been being raped staggers to her feet and stumbles into the room, "mamma!" wails the little girl, the woman looks at me warily and I stand up, shrugging my shoulders and the women dashes past me to hug her daughter. The two start crying and hugging each other, I back out of the room and back outside into the sunlight and away from the stench of death and rape.

Gerold and Andrew stand over two bandits who are on their knees, Hendrick is just finishing tying their hands behind their backs. There are also two smallfolk women, both brutalized and bending over the prone forms of their menfolk, sobbing and wailing.

I look grim faced at Gerold and Andrew, rubbing my face with my hand a few times.

I glance down at the two bandits, both of their eyes go wide when they realize I am a woman, I look away in disgust, I can feel my wolf growling and pacing, for once I agree with its sentiments.

I look back at Andrew and Gerold "keep them tied up and DO NOT let them escape, there are wolves in these forests, we will leave them out tonight for them, let beasts kill beasts, we won't sully our blades with the blood of scum like this!"

They look at me strangely, the two bandits start cursing and swearing, Gerold gives both of them a good solid clout on the back of their heads, silencing them.

I turn around, the woman has emerged with the little girl in her arms, she is trying to keep her torn dress closed with one hand. She sees her dead menfolk, a man of about forty namedays and a boy of about three and ten namedays. She looks back up at me, her face is puffy from her injuries, and she sports a badly cut lip and a black eye. She looks around, noting that the men seem to deferring to me and speaks "Thank you milady, for saving us..."

I nod in response, my heart breaking "If only we had been a few moments earlier..." I respond, feeling helpless.

The woman looks down at the other two women, who are still shrilly keening and wailing, she looks back up at me "There is nothing for me here now, please take me and my daughter, please! I can cook, I can clean, I could do, other things...my daughter is strong, she can learn, she can help me! We will work hard, I swear by the Seven!"

Oh well that's just great! More strays, waifs and broken things to join our merry little band, what could I say?

Jul 18, 2017

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#76

We burnt the bodies of the dead villagers and the dead bandits, but on different pyres, on the pretense that the smell of the burning bodies would help to attract the wolves. Of course I had sent out a call to my wolves earlier on, they had been bedded down a few miles away for the day and as soon as it was dark they had made up the distance.

We would spend the night in the village, everyone was in a somber mood, not helped by the fact that the two other women had hanged themselves out of grief, we had cut their bodies down and built another pyre for them, all the while watched by the two bound and gagged bandits.

When darkness fell we dragged the bandits out into the woods, stripped them naked and bound them side by side to a wide oak tree, facing into a small clearing. They shouted and screamed and cursed at us all the while, we ignored them, I sent a call out to my wolves, they were nearby and a chorus of howls rent the moon shot darkness.

This sends the two bandits into a further bout of screaming and pleading, I turn to them and say "The wolves will show you the same mercy that you showed those villagers!" I let my eyes flash golden, both bandits stunned to momentary silence by this.

I turn my back on them and follow Gerold, Andrew and Hendrick back along a path and we head back to the village. In my head I tell my wolves to guard the area but not to harm the men, promising them that they will later feed very well.

I go into the first house, the woman, whose name is Alson and her daughter Meya, are sitting with Taria, the men are all sleeping in the house next door, we have looted a little from the other houses, mainly some pots and pans and some food. I sit down with them, Meya's eyes are huge as she gazes at me, looking at my armor and my sword, I pull a jug towards me, it has some roughgut ale in it, I take a drink, it's pretty rank but it's better than nothing and I take a piece of bread and salted meat that Taria offers me. I chew slowly on the food, starring off into space.

"Why do you look like a wolf?" asks Meya, her voice trembling. I shoot the girl a glance, can she see me? Can she see the wolf underneath my skin?

Her mother tries to hush the little girl but I say "It's all right Alson, Meya sweetling, I look like a wolf because I am a wolf..." Strangely enough that seem to satisfy the little girl who just nods and whispers "Wolves are frightening..."

"They are at that, but do you know what? Wolves are just as frightened of you as you are of them, isn't that strange Meya, to think that wolves could be afraid of a little girl!"

Meya smiles wanly at me "I'm not afraid of you..."

I laugh a little "No sweetling, you should not be afraid of me, for I would never hurt you, only bad men need to be afraid of me..."

I notice Taria giving me a strange look.

Later on when everyone is asleep I slip silently outside and run swift as a shadow into the woods, stopping just short of the clearing where the bandits were tied up. I quickly strip naked and I can hear them talking and arguing, they have seen the wolves circling around them but cannot figure out why they have not attacked yet.

"That is because they are waiting for me!" I announce as I stride out into the clearing, a thick shaft of moonlight illuminating the clearing, my eyes shining golden in the silver light. The moonlight feels amazing against my naked skin, almost like tiny fingers are caressing it, stroking it.

"What the fuck, you crazy bitch!" shouts one of the bandits.

The other one is just staring at me dumbstruck.

"Crazy? No, Bitch? Yessss" I hiss and the change takes me, in the bath of liquid moonlight the change is much quicker, my wolf form fairly sprouting from my flesh, even the agonizing pain of the change is tempered by an almost pleasurable ache as my form reshapes itself, giving free reign to the beast within.

I stand up to my full height and my pack trots out of the darkness to stand beside me, tongues lolling and eyes staring fixedly at the two bandits.

Both men have lost control of their bladders and one is gibbering incoherently, the other is just staring at me in mute shock, horror twisting his terrified face.

With an unspoken command the pack attacks, tearing and pulling at the bodies of the two Bandits as they howl and scream in agony, their wails cut short as their throats are torn out in a welter of blood and gristle. The alpha pair tear out a kidney from each man, snarling at their pack mates, and drop it to the ground beside them, snapping at any wolf who even so much as sniffs at it. Once the alpha pair have eaten their fill they pick up the kidneys in their mouths and trot over to me, dropping them at my feet. They are offering me a choice part of the kill I realize, my pack having found it strange that I did not partake in the feast. I pick up each one and quickly eat the kidneys, they are still hot and covered in blood and they taste delicious. The rest of the pack are still worrying at the carcasses of the bandits, heavy crunching and breaking sounds are coming from the feast, they are breaking apart the bones of the bandits to get at the marrow inside. There will be very little left for the scavengers in the morning. Eventually the pack are finished with their repast, several of them trot by with large bones in their mouths, pursued by others snapping at them, looking to steal the bone from them.

The alpha pair look up at me so I kneel down, both of they approach and lick at my muzzle, showing their submission to me, thanking me for the gift of the two kills, then they dart off into the woods, leaving me alone.

I stand up and give a glance to where the two bandits were tied up, scraps of rope, spilled blood and some partial skeletons are all that remain of them, I smile and sigh, It would be good to remain in this form, to feel the moon on my fur, to run through the forest, to hunt, to kill. But I have to get back, so I will the change to reverse, again as I am standing in moonlight the change is quick, not quite as quick as the change into the wolfen form though.

I stretch and feel my joints pop, I feel an almost sexual thrill and the reactions of my body and how vibrant, how supple it is, maybe I'll pop in on Andrew and see if he is up for another bit of fun? Taria's lessons have been very enjoyable; I must try some more of what I had learned on Andrew, he had the stamina of youth to keep up with my seeming inventiveness...

I am so lost in my pleasant daydreaming as I reach my clothes that I fail to see Taria standing shock still, brandishing a sword in a trembling hand.

'Well, that's just great!'

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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Jul 18, 2017

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#80

I look at Taria, her eyes are huge, filled with fear, hate, revulsion, I can smell her fear, no, her terror, it is coming off her in waves.

"Stay away from me you, you thing!" she shrieks, stabbing with the sword, I dodge away and strike the hand she holds the sword in on the wrist with a quick punch, which I pull so that I don't shatter her forearm. She drops the sword with a gasp of pain, I grab her arm, using my strength to lever her towards me, spinning her around until her back slams into me, my hand goes to her mouth, clamping it shut as she inhales massively to scream.

Taria struggles in my grip, desperately trying to get free, but she cannot, I grip her like iron, eventually when it becomes obvious that she cannot escape she stops struggling, she is sobbing now, great wracking sobs, I can feel her tears hot and damp on my hand that covers her mouth.

"I am going to let go of you Taria, and we are going to talk, do you understand?"

Taria nods her head in response.

"You know that if I wanted you dead, or any of you dead, there is nothing that you could do to stop me? You have seen me fight; you saw what I can transform into, do you think for one second that Gerold could protect you from me, that anybody could protect you from me?"

Taria nods her head, a smaller nod this time.

"Do not scream or try to run away Taria, please..."

Taria nods her head again.

I release her and she almost jumps away from me, whirling around to face me.

"What, what are you?" she hisses at me.

I just look at her, my eyes golden in the dark, she flinches when she meets my eye's "I was just a girl once, but I was raped and a bastard pumped into me, but I could not carry the child and I miscarried, it came out of me tearing me fatally, and I was dying, or at least I would have..."

Taria is looking at me, her face betraying nothing, so I continue "But someone, or something, did not want me to die, so a blood ritual was performed, ancient, arcane and dangerous. Men's lives were sacrificed to perform this spell, and the soul of a wolf was plucked from her dying body and merged with my dying body. Both of us nearly died that day, for the bonding is not always successful, but we survived, we grew strong, I escaped from the rapist who had held me captive. And now I walk the land, two souls in one body..."

"Go on..." says Taria.

I sigh "This union comes with benefits for both parties, I get the wolf's strength, its speed, its senses and fierceness, she gets my intelligence, my reasoning, my memories. What, what you saw was us in our wolfen form, I cannot change into a wolf, only a hybrid of our two shapes..."

Taria is looking at me with a mixture of disgust and sympathy, her features at war with each other. I take a step forwards, she takes a step back. I stop advancing and just look at her "You think this is easy for me Taria? To know that there is a wild beast inside of you! I am not a monster Taria, you know me, we have lain together, tasted each other, loved each other, please, I am not a monster..."

"Those, those two bandits, did you eat them? Taria whispered.

"No, I left them for my pack to kill and eat..."

"Your pack?" she asks, confusion on her face.

"Apparently I have been adopted by a pack of wolves, they have been following us for weeks now, they seem to regard me as some sort of, oh I don't know, wolf goddess?"

Taria is speechless by this revelation, so I decide to get dressed, the night having turned chilly. Once dressed I look at Taria again, my eyes are still golden, so I kill their glow, returning to normal vision.

"What are you going to do Taria, if you want to tell the others I won't stop you..."

She barks out a quick, strangled laugh "And who would believe me!"

"You know I have a speed and strength that I should not have, the others are uneasy about this, they might believe you?"

"No...what's, what's it like..." Taria asks, stumbling over her words.

"Glorious...terrifying...strange...sexy..." I laugh at that last bit, a tiny smile tugs at the corners of Taria's mouth.

"I was raped Taria, held down by men who were much stronger than me, I was helpless, the Seven did not answer my prayers, the men who did it were uncaring of my shrieks and the pleading screams that echoed off the walls of the room they imprisoned me in. But the Old Gods answered my prayers Taria, and no man will ever lay a hand on me unbidden ever again! Nor will any harm come to those who I swear to protect Taria, you know what I can do, unlike stupid knights and their dammed silly vows, I can protect the weak! I can protect you Taria, for as long as I draw breath no one will ever harm you Taria and live to see another morn...

As I have been speaking I have moved slowly closer to Taria until I am standing right in front of her, her breathing is rapid and shallow, her pupils huge dark pools in her eyes.

"Do you believe me Taria?" I ask, my voice the barest whisper.

She nods her head, I resist the urge to kiss her, to take her here and now, that would be too much.

Instead I lift my hand to her face and tilt it downwards, planting a soft, feather light kiss on her forehead "Then come, it is getting cold, we should go back to the village."

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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Jul 19, 2017

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#82

The next morning we rode out of the village, we did not burn it, there was no point, plus it might serve as a beacon and give out position away to passing patrols or bandit gangs. Alson and her daughter Meya are riding on a horse with Taria and Elena providing instructions and help, the two smallfolk having never ridden before.

Thus we have to set a rather sedate pace, I as usual take the head of the column, I am deep in thought when Andrew rides up beside me.

"I missed you last night" he says, bright and cheery, a boyish grin on his face.

Men! Always looking for one thing and one thing only! "We were in a village pillaged by bandits, with all its men folks slaughtered and its women raped, and all you can think about is getting your cock wet?" I snarl at him.

He looks a little taken aback by my outburst "Well a man has to try you know..." flashing me his best smile.

"No, a man DOES NOT have to try! That grin may work on blushing maidens, it might even get a few of them to open their legs for you, but it won't work on me!" I jab a finger at him.

He looks crestfallen, good. "Last night was a bad night anyway..."

"Ahhhh..." he says, blushing and wheels his horse away to rejoin his men-at-arms.

I have not had my moon bleeding since I left the Tower of Joy, but it's a good excuse, I smile to myself, that pup will likely leave me alone for a few nights, not that I don't want him, but I have a lot on my mind. Taria was polite but distant this morning, I still do not know how her discovering my secret will work out, and that bothers me. My wolf knows what she wants to do, but that will only be as a last resort...

For the next several days we travel onwards, we stop at the odd village and buy supplies, but we never stay, always moving on as quickly as possible. We arrive at the Roseroad and a substantial town, which is bustling with activity. We sell quite a bit of the military loot that we have collected; it nets us a useful amount of silver but also, unfortunately draws attention to us.

We have decided, well actually Andrew has decided, that we need to rest up for a few days, get our horses re-shod, carry out some repairs on our gear etc. I'm not happy about this but the rest of the men follow his lead so I am left stewing in my juices over this. We take several rooms in a large and busy tavern, which has its own staff of bully boys on hand to break up fights and dissuade undesirable clientele from entering. We have been staying at the tavern for a few days now, kicking our heels and resting up. We, well I, am, popular with the owner due to a small service that I carried out on his behalf, and we are treated like family by him and his staff. And I sport a new, and quite spiffy sword, if I say so myself, but how I acquired said sword, that is a story for later.

Our little group seems to have decided that Andrew will pose as the leader of our 'sellsword' company for now, and that I will stay out of things, a lippy and commanding woman is apparently just not seen in these parts. If I am honest I am tired and I am still on edge about Taria, so I let this go on without too much complaining. The tavern has baths and I get to soak and relax and wash away the dirt of the road, we can also wash our clothes and generally get to feel a little more human (ironic in my case).

I am also hungry for news of the rebellion, Storms End is under siege by the forces of the Reach, Robert has fought another pitched battle at the Stoney Sept, which is being called The Battle of the Bells, the Hand of the King, Jon Connington has been dismissed, he commanded the royal forces at this battle. Robert has successfully joined his army with the Tully, Stark and Arryn hosts and is in the riverlands north of the Trident apparently. The opinion of most is that Robert is waiting for the Royal army, gathering at Kings Landing, to march north and engage him. This will be the defining moment of the rebellion it is believed.

Rumors and gossip is flowing around, I pay special attention to any concerning Rhaegar and me. The consensus of the Tavern gossip is that Rhaegar, his Kingsguard, me and our baby son died in a fire at the Tower of Joy, either by accident, stated deliberately (by whom it varies...my favorite being Rhaegar lit the fire to consume us all and transform himself into a Dragon, in shades of Summerhall), or that we were all killed in a bandit attack on the tower. The wilder gossip has our supposed 'deaths' as an elaborate hoax to lure Robert Baratheon into a trap, to make him overconfident, some even have me being in the Red Keep with my son by Rhaegar, being accepted by the Mad King and Rhaegar's wife Elia Martell!

However to my ears the most interesting gossip concerns the Lannisters, the old Lion has been sitting in Casterly rock, refusing to come out, his forces have not joined the Kings Army, and he has closed his borders to both sides. King Areys is apparently apoplectic at this seeming betrayal, and he is making ever wilder and more erratic threats against Tywin Lannister, even going so far as to threaten to send him back his son Jamie's burnt bones in a box. Interestingly other gossip states that Jamie Lannister will be tasked with leading the royal army north to confront Robert Baratheon's forces, and that this command is a poisoned chalice, if he wins Areys will turn on Casterly rock for its defiance, if he loses Areys takes his revenge on Twyin Lannister by disposing of Jamie for failing to beat Robert.

An idea begins to form in my head, we should head straight towards Kings Landing as fast as possible and follow the Royal Army north for its confrontation with Robert's army, Jamie Lannister might be a great swordsman, but he spent all his time as a Kingsguard, protecting a mad King, what does he know of warfare? Robert and his men have been at war for over a year, they were battle hardened, he had the advantage to my mind. Robert also has the North with him, to my mind one northern man is worth two southerners in any fight, I smile at this, then turn wistful, knowing how many of my kindred northern will likely fall in battle. My wolf growls at the back of my mind, all this talk of fighting has made her restless, she wants to fight, she wants to help Robert beat the Targaryen's. Maybe, just maybe I might be able to add just a little to Roberts chances, taking the odd nibble and bite here and there at the tail of the Royal Army as it marches north. My wolf grins at the red thoughts that flash through our mind at this, she will very much look forwards to wrecking a crimson ruin among those fools who attach themselves to the lost cause of House Targaryen.

A squad of men in the colors and sigil of House Footly enter the Tavern, they walk straight up to Andrew and Gerold and start a rather heated discussion, I cock an ear to listen, my hand drifts to the pommel of my new sword.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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Jul 19, 2017

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Jul 20, 2017

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#83

"You did WHAT!" I scream into Andrew's face, his eyes widen in shock at the vehemence of my shout.

"Sanna, I, I..."

"Don't you fucking Sanna me! I round on Gerold "And you let this pup do this?" I ask, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

Gerold just shrugs his shoulders at me.

Hendricks steps forwards "Stop all this nonsense now lass..."

"WHY? Because he has a cock and I don't? No, I want you to explain in detail Andrew why you thought it such a fucking good idea to sign us on to fight for the FUCKING REACH! "I turn and stab a finger at Hendricks "And don't call me Lass!"

Silence hangs heavy in the air "Well, I'm waiting!" I ask, folding my arms over my chest, tapping my foot on the wooden floorboard.

"We were approached by men from House Footly, they asked us if we were sellswords, as we agreed, that is the story we are giving to anyone who asks. They asked about the weapons and armor that we sold on, where we got it, from whom, all the usual stuff. They seemed happy with our story, they asked us we were looking for work, and after all what sellsword is not always looking for work eh?" Andrew tries his usual charming 'I'm just a cute boy' smile, it does not work on me, my eyes never leaving his, my mouth staying a thin, slashed line in my face.

"Go on" I say, my voice flat.

"Well, they are looking for sellswords, to patrol the Roseroad and its environs, to protect the odd caravan and general patrolling. Apparently a large Dornish and Stormlands host is gathering and will be moving up this way to Kings Landing to join the Royal Army there. We are to make sure that the area in peaceful and ready for them to march through..."

"So we are helping the Targaryen's then?" I hiss, their name is like acid in my mouth, bile in my stomach.

Andrew says nothing in response, Gerold decided that he has to take up the cudgels "It's not ideal Sanna, but if we said no it would look suspicious, those Footly lads did not believe our story my Lord" he holds up his hand to prevent Andrew interrupting "No, they don't know who you and your men are, but they suspect our story has more holes than an old piece of Pentos Lace." Andrew does not interrupt, but his face darkens, either at being stopped by Gerold or by the realization that his story was not as good as he thought it was.

"So, the question is, are we in any danger by taking up this 'contract'" I ask. I'm of the mind to dump this lot of fools right now and ride off up the Roseroad to Kings Landing myself, but the thoughts of Taria, Alson and Meya still my ideas of flight, I cannot just abandon them.

Gerold runs his hands through his hair "I don't know Sanna, I don't know, I suspect not though. We could do with a little silver, and we have only signed up for a few weeks work, and we get to see what's going on, and maybe even get a free and easy ride onto Kings Landing..."

"Why would we want to go to Kings Landing? It's the seat of our enemies" I ask, no sense in letting them know that I wanted to go there anyway.

"Aye, that it is, but we could book passage on a ship there Sanna, to Maidenpool, that would put us much closer to Robert's Army, and avoid us having to cross the Crownlands."

I shrug my shoulders, and once in Kings Landing? On a dark and moon shot night King Aerys Targaryen, second of his name might end up having a very unpleasant and very, very final encounter with me and my wolf...

"Fine!" I say, and storm out of the room, heading downstairs, past the tap room and out into the yard at the rear, a tiny bundle crashes into my legs "Sanna!" cries Meya, I swing the girl up into the air and toss her up high, to her squeals of delight, he hair fanning out around her as she flies up into the air. I catch her easily in my arms. "Again!" she shouts, laughing, he mother Alson admonishes her "Now, now Meya, that's enough, don't be bothering Lady Sanna now, run along, you have chores to do!"

I had taken Meya and her mother to a Maester who practiced as a doctor in the town as soon as we had arrived, he had solemnly examined both Alson and Meya, confirming what Alson and myself suspected, Meya had been so damaged by her rape that she would never bear children. Alson had cried at this as I paid the Maester a single gold dragon. I closed my fist around the old man's hand that held the coin, squeezing slowly, building up the pressure, until I heard faint popping noises coming from his hand. I never took my eyes from the Maesters, watery old eyes that might have been a pale blue once, but which now looked almost devoid of color.

"We were never here, understand?"

The Maester nods his head at me, his eyes showing the pain his hand is in.

"Say it..."

"You were never here...ahhhhh" he gasps as I release my hold.

Outside we walk along, I notice a Tavern that truly enticing smells are coming from, I'm hungry so I usher Alson and Meya inside. We order food and sit in a booth, its quiet and there is nobody near us, so we won't be overheard.

Of course we get strange glances, I'm used to it by now and it does not even bother me.

"I'm sorry Alson, I really am..."what can I say, what is there to say...

"Maybe it's not all that bad, both my sisters were lost in childbirth, a woman's lot is hard in this world."

"Aye, it is" I reply, I reach across the table to take Alson's hand "What happened to Meya happened to me, a long time ago..." it certainly feels long time ago to me. Alson's eyes widen at this "I don't think that I can bear children either..." I say.

"I'm sorry" Alson whispers.

"What's there to be sorry about?" I say "there was nothing I could do at the time, there was nothing I could do, it just happened..."

"Is that, is that why, why you are a warrior?" asks Alson, her eyes huge, they are the same shade of blue grey as mine, why did I never notice this before? Alson's rape is long behind her, her bruises have healed, she has put on a little weight. She is about thirty namedays in age, a fine looking woman, but aged by the life she has had, the first greys are appearing in her auburn hair.

"Yes" I respond "I vowed that no man would ever take me again without my choosing, and that is why I learned to fight, so that I could defend that right to choose. And those men who raped me? All dead at my hand!" A slight embellishment I know, but we all tell lies about our life, and I will be telling more then my fair share until the day I die.

Alson's eyes blink at this, her face al little shocked, then a slight smile breaks out on her face "I will wager that those men did not die easy?"

You have no idea..."No, they did not" I smile back.

How would Alson react if I, if I took her? Would she shy away, would she be disgusted, would she be interested? Taria and I have not been intimate since she discovered my true nature, oh we still engage in the odd bit of 'lessons' about how to please men, but there is a distance still, a wariness about Taria, I fear our old intimacy is gone forever. I am getting more than my fill of attention from Andrew, but a girl, and a wolf, needs something different once in a while, needs a challenge.

My thoughts are interrupted by the food being served, none of us talk while we tuck in, I as usual eat a large portion, wolfing, hah! pun intended, the food down. Afterwards we relax for a while, Alson plays with Meya, who thankfully seems oblivious to the conversations that we have been having.

Outside Meya runs on, laughing and skipping over the large cobblestones of the streets, Alson turns to me and asks in a serious voice "Is that why you lie with Taria, because, because of what happened? She, she told me when I asked about you..."

Well, well, well...isn't life interesting sometimes...

"Yes, I lie with men also, despite what happened to me, I don't know what I prefer, each has its differences...both are good, in their own ways."

Alson blushes, but she stammers out "It, it, it must be nice to be able to choose though..."

"It is" I grin back at the woman, turning my head to her "What's even better is that it's me who makes the choice, no one tells me, no one forces me, I don't force anyone..."

"I, I would like that for Meya..." she whispers "I was married at four and ten namedays; he, he was a good man my husband, older than me, his first wife and children died one winter of a fever. He was kind, but despite having been married before, he, he did not know the ways of a woman's body..."

"That's what's special about being with a woman, she will know your body as she knows her own."

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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Jul 20, 2017

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#85

That evening on the first night in the tavern I am drinking in the Tap room with Andrew, Gerold, Hendrik and the others, Andrew has been making hints these last few minutes that he is going to bed, I'm not biting and I know he is getting frustrated, until Gerold remarks "Get the hint lad, she's not interested, its Lady Palm and her five daughters for you tonight!" This brings a round of laugher from the men and brings out a blush on Andrew's face, he gets up and heads off in a huff, the rest of my companions drift off soon afterwards, leaving me alone with my ale and my thoughts.

The Tavern owner's wife, who is as broad as she is tall, is cleaning up around, she sees me drinking alone and plants herself down opposite me. She grabs an empty tankard and fills herself some ale, drinking a gulp, she gives me a once over "We don't get many lass's looking like you in these parts..."

I'll bet... "No I suppose you don't" I reply, the woman has a warm, kind face and laughing brown eyes, she reminds me of my mother for some reason.

"You not sweet and that young handsome buck that was trying ever so hard to get you to open your legs?" she asks, mirth splashed across her face.

I let out a good, throaty laugh at this and smile at the woman "He is, he is too insistent... "

"Aye, they all are, even when they get older and their pillars don't stand up as well, they still are insistent..."

I nearly spurt out my mouthful of ale at this observation; the woman continues "I've got a big bosom for crying into lass, raised seven young ones with them, they've seen plenty of tears..."

"It's complicated..."

"It always is lass, it always is..."

"I, I was betrothed to someone I hardly knew..."

"Ahhh, I see" she responds "Your father promised you to another man did he? An older, richer man no doubt?"

"Something like that...when I am married I will be shut up, in a castle, surrounded by courtiers, guards, ladies in waiting, I will want for nothing, except, except...freedom..."

"So you ran away?"

"Yes..."

"And?"

"It's not what I thought it would be..."

"It never is lass, life lived in the raw is never as good as it sounds."

"I like that, 'life lived in the raw'!"

"You can have that one for free lass!"

I laugh in response when there is a sudden almighty crash from the locked front door, and a sound of men roaring and screaming. Two of the bully boys rush to the door with their clubs drawn, quickly followed by a third.

I'm up on my feet and sword in hand in one fluid motion, I start towards the front when something, something catches my attention. Over the roaring, shouting and bellowing from the front, from over the sounds of guests waking up in a panic, why is there the sound of a door crashing open and a scuffle and suddenly cut short curse coming from the rear of the tavern?

Then I realize it, the attack on the front door is a diversion, confirmed by a sudden harsh cry from the rear of the building. The woman goes to move towards this new cry, I grab her "Stay!" I say, I can see the shock in her face at my strength. I don't have time for this and I sprint to the rear and the stables.

I dart in and the scene is imprinted on my mind, the owner is up against the wall, five cut throats surrounding him, none of them are looking around. That's a bad move on their part, but then it is so hard to get decent cut throats these days, what with most of them being in the various armies marching across Westeros. All are concentrating on the owner of the Tavern, being held up with a knife to his throat by the sixth man, who has just finished saying "You were given your chance, you did not pay, I don't like it when they don't pay..."

My sword flashes out, arcing down to cut the man's right arm off at the shoulder, it thuds into bone and cleaves through it and muscle, severing the man's arm, but of course, it then has to break, the top two thirds breaking off and spinning away, flashing in the dim light as the blade tumbled over and over.

'Oh fuck...'

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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Jul 20, 2017

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Jul 21, 2017

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#86

I fling the now useless sword, or what remains of it at the two assailants to my left, the cut throat to my immediate left is already swinging a wooden Billy club at my head, roaring his anger. I duck and ram myself forwards towards him, my arm flashing out like a lance with my fist curled up, my knuckles impact on his lower ribs, I feel them shattering under the blow, he is thrown back by my punch so fast that he crashes into the far wall, slamming his head against it with a sickeningly wet thud, and slides down the wall, leaving a trail of bone, brain matter and blood behind him.

The next thug is swinging his club at me, he flashes it horizontal, I duck away and reach up, grabbing the wrist that wields the club in both hands, clutching as hard as I can, his wrist and forearm bones crunch and shatter as I squeeze, he opens his mouth and screams and screams, until I grab the club out of his shattered hand and backhand him into the face with it, staving in his skull and also breaking the club into several pieces...not my night now is it?

I whirl around just as the club wielded by the third thug would have smashed into my back, the man has of course overcommitted to the swing, the club banging down on the ground and he staggers forwards. I dart in, leading with my shoulder and slam into him, pushing him back and upwards, I hear his collar bone snap above my head, sharp and clear. He is of balance as I grab the arm that is holding the club in both hands and whirl him around, slamming him into one of the wooden stable walls so hard that it shatters, as does his spine, he lands in the empty stall in a disjointed, floppy heap.

The last thug turns to run, I whip out my knife and hurl it, it buries into the back of his neck up to the hilt and he stumbles forwards, skidding along the ground until his head smashes into the half open stable door, stopping him.

I turn to see the owners wife run to her husband and help him up, he has a small nick in his neck, that fucker was going to slit his throat had I not intervened.

He is looking at me with eyes as big as saucers, he puts out an arm to steady himself, I notice the scars on his arms and hands, the way his forearms are crisscrossed with marks and his hands are heavily calloused.

"Soldier?" I ask.

"Sailor, I sailed with Lord Redwyne's fleet for a good fifteen years, fought Ironborn, Lyseni Pirates, Slaver scum."

"You're a long way from the sea here sailor..."

"Well, I followed this slip of a lass here back to her home when she caught my eye down in Oldtown!"

His wife throws her eyes up to heaven "Watch out for sailor's lass, smooth talking rascals every one of them!"

Gerold dashes into the room, wearing just trousers, sword in hand, and skids to a halt, his torso is lean and muscular, matted with hair, my wolf likes the look of it, remarking that he looks much tastier than Andrew, who is almost hairless on his chest.

I smirk at him, but then his scent reaches me, its redolent with Taria's scent, with the scent of sex.

"Oh I'm sorry, did I get you out of bed? Did I disturb you Gerold?" I ask in my best snarky voice.

He looks around at the devastation, the blood and gore, my broken sword lying on the ground "You will need a new sword" he says before he just turns and heads back upstairs. As Gerold is leaving one of the taverns guard's rushes into the stables, looks around and then says "We dealt with those fuckers at the front door boss, smashed their heads in right proper..."

"And while you were doing that Rody, Slasher Warth and his mates here snuck in the back, they'd have carved me up real good were it not for?" The owner looks at me with a question in his eyes.

"Sanna, just Sanna..."

"For miss Sanna here...send a runner for old Rag and Bones Sawler, we gotta get rid of these...bodies."

"Yes boss!"

I walk over and retrieve my knife, cleaning it on the jerkin of the dead thug before re-sheathing it.

"Where are my manners!" says the tavern Owner "I'm Crodell Brander, this petite little slip of a girl is my wife Fiyona!"

I nod back, walking the several paces back stand in front of them.

"Where did a tiny little girl like you learn to fight like that?" Crodell asks, fear stalking the backs of his eyes.

"Oh, here and there, you know..."

He raises his eyebrows, his head is completely bald, sweat is shining on his scalp. "Here and there eh? Well I'll tell you one thing, I could have done with some of that 'here and there' in my time in Lord Redwyne's fleet...Thank you for, for doing this, for saving my life" He spits down at the one armed corpse at his feet. "That fucker has been extorting far too much coin from far too many folks these last few years!" he spat again onto the corpse, a rather more substantial wad this time.

I wave my hand "Think nothing of it, scum like that", I too spit on the corpse, just to be companionable and all "who prey on others, they deserve nothing but sharp, painful deaths."

"Aye lass, that's the truth, if only there were more people who thought, and, and acted like you...come with me, I've something to show you..."

He walks off and I follow, some of the staff rush past us, all the guests seem to be awake and milling about in the tap room, apart from my contingent I notice. Crodell goes over to calm them down and reassure them, it takes a few minutes to clear everyone out and back into their rooms, I hang back, saying nothing.

Crodell passes me and gestures me to follow him, we go into a back office and he pulls out a sea chest and opens it, pulling out an oil cloth wrapped bundle. He hands it to me, nodding, I unwrap the bundle, a curved scabbard with a large sword hilt emerges.

"Take it out" Crodell says, whispering.

I slide the sword out, it's slightly curved, it looks like a machete but slimmer, and it's nicely balanced in my hand.

"That's a Falkata, took it off a dead Slaver, he was a summer islander, big chap, black as the hob of the seventh hell, Gods the stink coming from the holds of that slaver ship, those poor wretches..." He gives himself a shake and his eyes return their focus. "Anyway, most Falkata only have a cutting edge on the outside, this beauty has a cutting edge on both sides, and it's not one of those one sided ones where some blacksmith will grind a cutting edge into the soft metal at the back for you! Oh no, this is the real thing here, a dual edged Falkata! These beauties are rare as hen's teeth, let me tell you! Anyway I've modified it a little bit, to suite myself, you understand, back when I had coin for such foibles...Anyway, see the hilt? It used to be open, the handguard did not curve all the way around and act like a knuckle duster, them spikes there are good and heavy, you will do some damage with them, especially, especially with that, ermm, strength of yours...I added that handguard, its nothing really more fancy than a good iron bar, but it does its work. That pommel you see there, its shape is great for smashing into faces and helmets!" Cordell grins at me.

"Good balance, even with your modifications" I reply, hefting the sword, liking how it felt in my hand.

"Aye, it was a bit tip heavy though, even with what I added to it, so I got those nice curved fullers on either side, made the balance just perfect..."

"They don't weaken the blade?"

"She's made from the best Tyrosh steel, folded and refolded, quenched and heated, hundreds of times, she will bend like a whip if needs be..."

"She?"

"Aye, look at the curves on her! This sword has to be female...Anyway, take her, I've no need of her anymore, you would wield her better than I ever could, you and her are of a type, both lethal beauties..."

"You have the heart of a poet Crodell Brander!" I reply, smiling.

"You like her?"

"Oh yessss!" I hiss.

"I thought you would..."

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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Jul 21, 2017

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Jul 21, 2017

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#88

I jolt my mind back to the present and say "It's all right Alona, Meya, have you done your lessons with Elena this morning?"

I am having the older girl teach Meya her letters, its keeps both of them busy and occupied, I have also started Meya on quarterstaff training. The girl has the physical resilience of youth but her mind is still clouded, she does not like being around men, and still often cries out at night, and she can only be sent back to sleep with great difficulty. I bought her a little rag doll one day in the market, it's a scruffy wolf toy, I tell her to sleep with it and it will protect her when I am not around from the 'bad men'. Gods curse me for this, but what can I do? The men who did this to her are already dead, I wish I could kill them every night for the rest of eternity!

"Yes Sanna, I have! And Elena taught me to curtsy, look!" Meya drops down and gives a very correct and proper courtesy, worthy of any High Born girl.

"Bravo!" I exclaim "You will be a beautiful princess when you grow up!" the girls face lights up and she gives me a fierce squeeze and darts off to complete her chores.

Elena appears, she approaches me, Andrew's young sister is a complex one, she knows I am sleeping with her brother, and she is a little hostile to me, rarely speaking to me in more than monosyllables. Maybe she is not complex at all? Maybe she is just another southron twit, her mind ruined by her Septa's diet of needlework and tales of Knightly Chivalry and Honour. She passes with a nod, she is going back to her room to read, Alona and Meya are doing all of our Laundry and helping Taria on the running repairs that clothes often need if you are travelling.

That gives me an idea, I give Alona a wave, she waves back shyly, I have not taken things any further, yet, we shall see what we shall see.

I walk on and ask for Crodell, I find the man out in the stables at the back, the evidence of that little misunderstanding over protection money has been removed or repaired. One patron's horse has kicked another's, there is a dispute over monies owed and compensation, and Crodell is trying to adjudicate. I lean back against a wall and wait for this pointless exercise to end, your horse kicked the other mans horse, pay up and stop being a weasel! I wonder if he has any Frey blood in him, he certainly looks like he should be scuttling about somewhere, fumbling in a greasy money box over a few Groats and Pennies, his nose twitching and his eyes shining with avarice.

Eventually the dispute is settled; the arguing had gone down to the last penny and the Crodell sees me standing and he approaches me "What can I do for you my Lady?"

I roll my eyes to heaven, if everyone keep on insisting on calling me 'my Lady' I'm going to get caught out one of these days...

The tavern owner is built like one of the barrels that he serves ale from, and it's quite good ale by the way, definitely not the rot gut that Taverns sometime serve. I've become quite the expert on Tavern food and drink over these last few months, I wonder what Ned or Robert would think if they could see me now?

"Sanna, its Sanna, remember?"

"Hah, I know a High Born lass when I see one!" he winked at me, his face splitting into an infectious grin.

"I have a proposition for you, and your wife as it turns out..."

"Oh? If there is money in it, I'll listen..." he japes, then his face becomes serious.

I smile back at him "We are going to be away for a few days at a time for the next couple of weeks, I'd like to keep our rooms and for the women with us to be kept safe."

"Yes of course, for you, anything!"

"AND...take Alona and Meya into your employ, pay them what you would pay them for servants, do not take their board out of their pay, hmmm?"

"Yes, yes, of course."

I fish out a Gold Dragon, Cordell tries to protest but I put it in his hand "One now and when we finally leave, one more, that's on top of our normal bill, understand?"

"Yes, but I should be paying you! For what you did!"

"A man's life is priceless Cordell Brander, why would you put a price on yours?"

He just looks at me a nods his head.

"And make sure no harm comes to them Cordell, that would make me, very, very angry, and you don't want to see me angry, do you?" I poured a scent off me that told of tearing flesh, of murder, of slaughter, of walls painted red with splashed blood, Cordell gulped, sweat shining on his bald head and replied "No La...no Sanna, I would not want to see that..."

"Good."

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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Jul 21, 2017

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Jul 23, 2017

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#89

I prepare for bed, a single candle burns in my room, outside rain thrums against the shutters, hard and loud, great drops of it are falling down almost vertically, drenching the land, I'm glad we are inside and not camping out in that.

I strip off naked and stretch, I love the feel of being supple, of stretching and straining my muscles and tendons to their limit. I finish off and hear the soft footsteps pad up the hallway, hear their hesitation, they stop once, start again, then stop, resume, but slower until they are outside my door.

I wait calmly, no sense in spooking the doe, as they say.

My door is pushed open slowly, Alona stands in a simple shift "Oh!" she gasps, seeing me naked, she takes two steps forwards, stops, a look of indecision crosses her face, ah no, you are not getting away now. I step forwards, gripping her arm softly, pulling her forwards, and I close the door behind her. I take the candle from her and place it on the small bedside table.

I turn more fully to face Alona, looking into her eyes, I arch an eyebrow, my body is producing a scent that shouts sex and desire, Alona's eyes are unfocused as she looks at me, I step back a bit from her, allowing her eyes to rove over my body, Alona moves to remove her shift, her hands trembling, she lets the shift fall, her hands don't seem to know what to do, she makes a half hearted effort to cover herself, her arms move back away, then she tries to cover herself again, until finally she lets her arms fall to her sides.

Her face and neck are flushed, she looks embarrassed, I reach out a hand, I gently stroke her face, her neck.

"You, you are so beautiful" Alona says, wonderment in her voice, I see her eyes go wistful.

"So are you" I reply, Alona's body is the body of a woman who has born children, who has seen hard work and even harder times, but it is still beautiful, not the flawless beauty that is a stupid, impossible ideal, but the beauty of a woman, a mother. I move closer, I kiss her, lightly on the lips, no more than a feather light kiss, I kiss her jaw, along her cheek, slowly, with care, barely touching her skin with my lips, down onto her neck, over a vein where her heartbeat flutters with her mounting desire, across her shoulder, the tiniest of nips from my teeth electing a shuddering moan from her. I step away from her, I reach down and pull the blanket from the bed, I sit down and slide back, inviting Alona to join me. She gets in a lies beside me, I turn on my side to face her, she turns on her side to face me, I push a strand of hair away from her face.

"What, what is it, you, do?"

I smile at her in the low, flickering light of the candles "Let me show you..."

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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Jul 23, 2017

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Jul 24, 2017

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#93

We lie together, content, satisfied, we are holding each other's faces in our hands, just looking at each other, searching our eyes. There is no need for words, no need for anything but the slow beat of our hearts and the moments that pass by, never to be seen again.

"You, you lie with that young knight, Ser Andrew." says Alona softly.

"Yes I do" I say, moving my hand to stroke Alona's hair "It, it is different with him...not better, not worse, different."

Alona sighs at this "And will you continue to take him to bed?" she asks, her voice trembling.

"Yes, and you, and whoever else I want to share my bed with. This is not some story told by the Septa's about gallant, handsome knight and blushing, fair maidens, life is complicated sometimes...I know my life is very complicated..."

"It does not have to be? Maybe you make it complicated Sanna..."

I stroke her face again, ah Alona, if only you knew, if only you knew "I was always different, even as a child, I knew I would be different, that I somehow did not 'belong', that feeling only got stronger year on year...My father betrothed me to a man I did not know, so in defiance of him I ran away, and now I find myself here..."

"I asked Taria about you."

"Oh yes?"

"She says you rescued her and saved her life, she says you are a great warrior, greater than any man, swift, deadly, graceful, beautiful..."

I chuckle a little "Is that how Taria sees me?"

"She told me that she lay with you, but that she lays with Gerold now..."

"We did lie together, of a time, yes."

"Why did she stop? Because of Gerold?"

"Maybe, there may have been other reasons..."

"She is silly then, I would never stop lying with you Sanna...for as long as you want me..." she says, her eyes not meeting mine.

I smile at her "Let us hope that is for a very long time Alona..."

From outside comes the patter of tiny feet, its Meya running along the corridor.

"Mamma?" says a little voice from outside.

Alona jumps up, puts on her shift, "She woke up when I was leaving...I told her I was coming here to talk to you!" Alona whispers.

I jump up and root for my shift, I usually sleep naked when indoors like this, I pull it on just in time as Meya opens the door and steps in, clutching her little wolf stuffed toy.

"I had a nightmare mamma" she says, whispering.

Alona starts to move away with the child, I say "Let her stay, both of you can stay..."

Alona nods and I lie back down, Meya climbs up beside me and then Alona on the outside. Meya snuggles up to me, I look over her head at her mother, who gives me a wan smile. I kiss Meya's head, smelling freshly washed child, she snuggles even closer "the bad men can't get me now" she whispers.

"That's right sweetling, Ser Wolf", the name I gave her toy "will protect us all!"

"He is just a stuffed toy! He is not a real wolf, not like you!"

I look at Alona who just gives a tiny smile and then she closes her eyes.

I feel Meya fall asleep, her breathing changing to the regular deep cadence of slumber.

My silent tears stream out of my eyes, running down my face to wet the child's sleeping head.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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Jul 24, 2017

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Jul 24, 2017

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#95

So we take the Footly's coin, we stay based in the Tavern, which goes by the name of 'The Busted Duck' and are often away for three or four days at a time, guarding caravans, scouting around, chasing bandits. We catch a few roving bandits, sorry looking, half starved wretches the majority of them, very few of them are actually 'real' bandits, most are just smallfolk who turned to banditry in desperation to survive.

We get paid a reward for everyone we bring in, other sell sword companies quickly realize that there is money to be made here due to the nature of most of the 'bandits'. And so they round up unfortunate smallfolk, beat them senseless and hang them, claiming that they are 'bandits'. One of the minor functionaries attached to the garrison in the town was receiving kickbacks from the sell sword companies that were engaged in this practice.

Andrew seems to be enjoying himself, despite taking the coin of the enemy he likes the long rides out into the country, he likes the long rides he gets from me better though. He is a vigorous, if inexperienced lover, but he is willing to learn, and I have Taria's knowledge of the dark arts of pleasing men to draw on. I snort my head at this 'dark arts' indeed! Men are so simple, so easy to please, if only more of us women realized this...that they are so unlike a women with her hidden depths, her mysteries, her sudden wanton lust that surprises and delights you. Fuck 'em, suck 'em and leave them exhausted seems to be all you need to know when it comes to men, Gods but they are so, so unimaginative, all thrusting and grunting like a rooting pig. Not that a girl does not want that sometimes, but not every bloody time...

I sit up the bed, stretching my arms above my head, feeling and hearing my joints pop and my muscles elongate deliciously, Andrew looks up at me, his hand goes to my side, sliding up my bare flesh and cupping my left breast.

He smiles at me "You are so hard" he marvels "yet these are so soft, and you have a woman's curves..." he runs his eyes over me, admiring what he sees, following the passage of his wandering hand.

The tavern is quiet around us, only the usual nocturnal sounds, I can hear a cat stalking mice in the alley way outside, hear the heartbeats of the people sleeping in the tavern, hear the soft neighing of the horses in the stables at the back of the Tavern.

We had retuned that afternoon from our longest 'ranging' as I had come to call them, we had been away for a good eight days, the 'supply' of bandits seemed to have dried up, my wolf pack cannot get close to help us, the land was too thickly populated and the forest cover was not enough for them to shelter in or hunt, so they were a few miles away, holed up and awaiting developments.

In truth I was getting bored, I was pent up, I wanted to move on, to do things, to do something, trotting up and down the Roseroad did not appeal to me greatly. And when we had returned that afternoon a huge camp had sprung up outside the town, many different banners flying above the camp, the Royalist Army was beginning to arrive, and the town was choked with soldiers.

Cordell had informed us that we would have to move out as all his rooms were being requisitioned for use by Royalist Nobles, we would have to pack up our things tomorrow and probably camp outside the town. He was embarrassed, and angry that he had to tuft us out, but I quietened him down, I handed over the second Gold Dragon as agreed, he seemed even more embarrassed to have to accept it. I went in search of his wife, finding her in the back with her substantial brood, I gave all the children some coins, mostly Groats, but also some pennies for the smallest. She gave me a fierce hug and wished us all well, she knew about why we were leaving and she was as equally angry as Crodell.

However, if I was honest, this suited me, and I imposed on Gerold to back me and insist that it was time to move on, up the Roseroad and on to Kings Landing. Thus we would collect our last coin for our work tomorrow and leave.

I smile down at Andrew, and lie down on his chest, his arms enfold me, I hear a little sigh escape his lips. I shift my body down a little, turn my head over to the other side and stretch up my head to look up at him, a question in my eyes.

He smiles at me, slightly wistfully "I, I wish this did not have to end Sanna, you, me, this..." He lifts one of his arms to gesture at the room.

"You mean riding around on horses, making wild, passionate love under the stars, not having a care in the world?" I smile back, stupid boy!

"Yes" he sighs.

I lift myself up a little, breaking the lock his arms have on me "That's a fantasy Andrew, not reality, the Starks have a saying 'Winter is Coming', do you know what that really means Andrew?"

He shakes his head in response, of course he does not know, he has grown up in the south, where even the coldest winter is mild compared to the North.

"It means be prepared, for bad things are coming, that the summer, the good times, they always end! You, me, your little fantasy in your head of being a 'sellsword', with me at your side, it all will come to an end, it has to!"

"Why" he asks, in a slightly petulant tone.

Oh for the Old Gods sake, is this young fool so infatuated with his own importance that he cannot see it, I search his eyes in the dimness, yes he actually is! Ugghh, Men! I should stick to women, and to hell with marrying Robert Baratheon! If this fellow is a typical example of the male of the species, no wonder the world was such a crazy and stupid place. That said he is very cute and I giggle in my head at this thought. I give Andrew a sad looking smile "Because the world is not like that, we cannot live in a fantasy world, we have to live in the real world, where bad things happen, and people don't always get to chose what they would like to do."

"It's, it's your betrothed, isn't it?" Andrew asks, his eyes looking away from me.

I sigh, yes of course that's part of it you young fool, Robert Baratheon would crush you like an insect and not even think twice, and you are your fathers only surviving son for god's sake! "Andrew, this conversation is going nowhere, I told you at the start what this" I point at him and then me "was going to be, it is nothing more and can never be more than what it is. If you cannot accept that, then I don't think I should visit you in the night anymore..."

He looks hurt, saddened, I reach out and stroke his forehead, a sad grin suddenly passes over his face, fading away slowly.

"What?" I ask, my voice quiet.

"My sister thinks we will be wed, she is asking me why I don't take you to a Sept and wed you, she says that our sons would be the greatest warriors and knights to have ever lived! I think she also just wants an excuse to get a new dress so she can wear it to our wedding!"

"You had better dissuade your sister of that notion then" I reply, my tone suddenly serious.

Andrew looks sharply at me, my harsh tone stinging him.

I stare unfocused at the far wall "Winter is Coming" I whisper.

Jul 25, 2017

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#96

The next morning we are out early, the town is fairly bustling with soldiers, camp followers and travelling merchants eager to sell to the soldiers. Alona and Meya accompany Taria to the market square to make some last minute purchases for our journey. Andrew and I are going to collect our last payment for our patrol work, back in the tavern we have actually already packed up and are ready to leave, a bunch of Stormlander knights have arrived early and are busily kicking Crodells patrons out of their rooms.

Myself and Andrew weave in and amongst the crowds, my wolf is getting panicked, the press of people, the riot of smells and sounds, she is very on edge and its effecting me also. Taria, Alona and Meya are lost in the crowds, I am even pushed away from Andrew several times by the press of bodies. Eventually Andrew and I make it to the edge of the market square, out of the worst of the crush of bodies, carts, stalls, hawkers, prostitutes, beggars, soldiers, the list could go on and on, but you get the point. We are under an arched, low colonnade; behind is a substantial two story stone building. It's the local magistrate's offices and it's where the Sellsword companies collect their pay. We enter but are forced to wait for what seems like ages, other Sellsword companies get paid, there are haggles over expense and payment, an argument breaks out over the fineness of some of the coins being used in payment, a Silversmith is called for to judge the weights and fineness of the coins.

Eventually it comes to our turn, we are paid our silver, there is however a rather elaborate and frankly pointless charade of actually counting out each coin, the Magistrates clerk who is dealing with us says that there is a new rule about counting out Sellsword pay by the two parties involved in each other's presence, to prevent 'cheating'. We go through this tedious process; Andrew seems to be disdainful of actually counting our coin so it is left to me to do most of the counting. I find that the silver coins leave an unpleasant feel on my hands, like they are burning slightly, which only seems to get worse and worse, along with a tingling sensation working its way up my arms.

I have been getting the feeling that we are being watched, I did not like the look several of the Stormlander knights were giving me or Andrew back outside the Tavern as we left, but I put this feeling down to my wolf being so overwhelmed by the crush of people. I'm not feeling very well all of a sudden when we exit the building, I feel a little woozy and I get a flash of sweat across my body.

There are sudden shouts from the crowd, followed by sounds of crashing and men roaring, there is a knight and his men-at-arms trying to wade through the crowd, the knight is flinging a Mace wildly about him, smashing smallfolk out of the way in bloody sprays of gore. My anger flashes white hot, I sear the Knights sigil on my brain, if not now, in the future I will extinguish this man and his line.

Then my blood goes cold, where are Taria, Alona and Meya? Panic grips me, I prepare to dive into the crowd to rescue them when a deep voice from behind me says "Hello Andrew Wallance..."

Myself and Andrew whip around, Derion Duxford and group of his men-at-arms are standing right behind us. The pole arm is already inches from my face and it thuds into my forehead, dropping me to the ground, the world going instantly black.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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Jul 25, 2017

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Jul 25, 2017

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#98

I wake up with a bucket of water thrown in my face, I sputter and come awake, but slowly, like the world is far away, sounds are distorted, wailing incoherently around me, lights stream past my eyes, unfocused, blurred. I blink and shake my head, I feel as weak as a kitten, like my blood is water, and I cannot feel my wolf or the comforting glow of my packs collective thoughts in my mind. I cough a few times and vomit up the food that I ate to break my fast, I am on my knees, in the square, my arms shackled behind my back, my weapons stripped from me. My vision swims back and forth, back and forth, I vomit again, just sour bile this time, its hot tang in my mouth disgusting.

The rocking and swaying like I am on the deck of a ship slows and then stops, I risk a glance up, slowly I raise my head, Derion Duxford is standing a few feet away from me, Andrew is being restrained by four men-at-arms.

"Ah good, I wanted your little slut to be awake for this!" Duxford says.

I struggle again, setting off another wave of nausea, and my vision spinning.

Duxford does not seem to notice and continues "By order of King Areys, Second of his name, Andrew Wallance of House Wallance is condemned for acts of treason for raising his banners in support of Robert Baratheon! The sentence for treason is death!"

"I demand a Trial by Combat!" shouts Andrew.

Oh no, you bloody young fool I gasp, Duxford will cut you to pieces...I moan in pain, no, no, this is not happening, please, I cannot be weak, where is my wolf? What has happened to me? I cannot be weak, no, please, anything but that...

"King Areys has decreed that as House Wallance are traitors they are to be stripped of their knightly titles and as such, you no longer have the right to a trial by combat! But I am a man of tradition Andrew Wallance, so I will grant you this privilege, though you are a filthy, treacherous dog!"

Just at that moment Meya wriggles through the ring of soldiers around the spectacle and rushes forwards, screaming. It looks like she is running towards Andrew but I know she is running towards me. A man-at-arms grabs her and she screams and screams, wailing shrilly. Alona has managed to follow her daughter in the confusion, but she is grabbed by another Man-at-arms and wrestled to her knees.

"What's this Wallance? Some smallfolk wench and your bastard? She's not much to look at I'll tell you that for nothing, old, bet she has saggy teats!"

Andrew struggles but says nothing, which Duxford takes as acceptance, he draws his Greatsword and beheads Alona in a casual swipe, my eyes nearly bug out of my head, I scream my denial at the top of my voice, scouring my throat raw as Alona's head arcs through the air, trailing blood, to land right in front of me. I stare into her open eyes, eyes that will never see anything again and feel empty, I am weak, there is nothing I can do, it is happening all over again, I cannot protect myself, and I now cannot protect the people that I love.

Meya's screams pierce the air with a shrillness that bores deep into my soul, flensing at my nerves and sanity.

"Shut that dammed child up!" roars Duxford and the man-at-arms that is holding Meya draws a dagger and slits her throat, dropping her small body to the ground, it thumped down beside her mother's head, I see Ser Wolf is still clutched in one of her tiny, little hands. The howl of grief I let out rends my very soul, and leaves me drained.

"Now where were we? Ah yes, your trial by combat!" Duxford nods and his men-at-arms step away, one of them hands Andrew a sword, he accepts it and does a few trial swipes of the blade.

I groan, horror shuddering through me, Duxford smiles at Andrew and steps back a pace, his men-at-arms also back away to give the combatants room.

"Your brother screamed like a little girl when I cut his belly open boy!" snarls Duxford "And when I find that little sister of yours she will scream even louder when I take her maidenhead!"

With this Andrew roars an incoherent bellow and charges, slashing with the sword towards Duxford.

Duxford bats the strike away with his Greatsword with almost contempt, Andrew is rocked by the strike and almost losses his footing, Duxford stabs forwards, pulling up the strike, nicking Andrew above the eye along the side of his head. Blood pours from the wound into Andrews left eye, he shakes his head to try and clear the blood, Duxford launches a flurry of attacks, I have never seen a man wield a Greatsword with such speed, precision and strength. I stare horrified, fascinated as Duxford toys with Andrew, he could have landed a killing blow at least three times already.

Duxford lands several blows onto the plate over Andrew's chest, he could have cut Andrew, gutted him, he does not want that, those blows are to wind Andrew, to tire him. Andrews attacks become increasingly desperate, he leaves himself open for Duxford several times, and again the black knight does not take the offered strike, preferring to either not strike or to strike elsewhere.

This goes on for minutes, Duxford silently stalking, toying with Andrew, the look of sadistic joy on Derion's face is something that I will never forget. Andrew is panting, exhausted, Duxford has nicked him several times on his legs and face, deep enough to cause a lot of bleeding, but not enough to kill, or at least not enough to kill quickly. Andrew has lost quite a bit of blood; he has even slipped in his own blood once, the cobbles are slick red with his seeping, ebbing life force. Andrew gives a final overhead strike at Duxford, who slides aside with a casual grace, smashing the pommel of his Greatsword into Andrews face, I hear cartilage and bone shatter, hear Andrews wail of pain. I cannot look away, I won't look away, I owe this much to Andrew, and to stoke the fires of the vengeance I will visit upon Derion Duxford and his House.

Andrew collapses to his knees, Derion stands over him gloating, and swipes down his Greatsword, beheading Andrew, a silent scream comes out of my mouth, I am too hoarse to make even a croak, but in my head the scream goes on forever.

Duxford looks over at me "Strip her, clean her up, and leave her in my room!"

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#106

I am dragged away, my mind is reeling, I can feel my sanity slipping, madness beckons, its gibbering, howling maw invites me to jump through, to lose myself forever, to slip away from all this pain, all this hurt, all this blood.

I am half hauled, half carried into the magistrates building, and to the rear of the edifice, I have never been there before, there are living quarters above on the second floor apparently. But instead I am taken down to the cells below the building and thrown into a tiny, filthy cell, where the guards unshackle me, strip me. I try to resist but I have no strength, my arms flail uselessly at them as my armor and clothes are torn from my body, leaving me naked and shivering.

I collapse to the ground, hugging my knees to my chest, and I cry, great wracking sobs heave through me, I am lost, I am defeated, here is where I will die, everything is ashes, death, hopeless...

I don't know how long I am kept in the cell, my mind seems to have fractured, I cannot tell the passage of time, I remember talking to Andrew, Alona and Meya, my Father, Brandon. We talked of things that did not make sense, that I could not recall. The cold seeped into me from the dank stones, chilling my bones, cramping my weak muscles.

The guards come for me, dragging me from the cell and marching me up to where the living quarters are, night has fallen, sounds of feasting and shouting echo from somewhere.

The guards deposit me in a small room, an old woman stands, there is a wooden bath and several jugs of hot water, along with towels and soap, I am to be bathed in appears. The guards leave, locking the door behind me, leaving me in the room with the old woman, she is ancient, wrinkled, a crone.

She takes a step towards me, her eyes are sad, looking at me, she reaches for my hands, lifting them up, they are swollen, reddened, with a sheen of silverish dirt on them. She makes a small clucking noise with her mouth, turns, picks up a cloth and dips it in the hot water, and begins to rub my hands, cleaning them, washing away the layer of strange dirt from them. She then applies soap to my hands, washing them fully clean, she examines my hands, the stinging, faintly burning sensation that had been present in them abates, the old woman applies some ointment to my hands, it is wonderfully cool on my skin.

I begin to feel a little better, well physically at least, the crone motions me to step into the bath. I step into the tub, the woman pours the hot water over my head, and helps me wash, I am careful not to get any water on my hands. After the bath the old woman applies some more ointment to my hands, wraps them in some clean linen bandages, and then stands aside, she seems to be waiting.

I stand there naked, my skin and hair slowly drying, alone in my mind for the first time since I awoke in the Tower of Joy to see the broken corpses of Rhaegar Targaryen and his Kingsguard. Where has all my strength, my prowess gone? Has my wolf, that stalking, lupine, graceful killer been stripped from me? The warm glow of my packs thoughts is absent, my mind is silent, a prison for my terrified thoughts. I am Lyanna Stark only now, a small, frightened girl, and a girl who knows what is coming next.

The guards open the door and shackle me again, this time with my hands to my front, dragging me out naked and up a flight of wide, stone stairs, a long corridor stretches into the distance, windows high along the outside wall are letting moonbeams pour down, like solid shafts of glittering silver.

The guards frog march me along, when I pass through one of these streams of hoary light I feel a jolt pass through me, I stagger and nearly fall, only the fact that the guards are holding my arms prevents me from collapsing to the floor.

The moonlight is like a drench of cold, crystal clear water from a mountain stream on a boiling hot summer's day, it flows through me, washing away all the fug, the fear, the pain. A wolf leaps through my head, her snarl savage and long. My wolf is back, but my great strength is not, only the merest shadow of my former abilities ghost through my mind and body, like a diffuse shadow on a cloudy day. As I pass through each shaft of argent light I start to feel stronger, more confident, I feel my powers beginning to return, I'm not fully back to my old self, but I am getting there.

The guards push me into a room at the end of the corridor; a large window lets moonlight flood the room. Standing there is Derion Duxford, he is not in his plate, he is wearing rich, embroidered black clothes, which speak of wealth, and a certain vanity.

The guards back out of the room and I move to stand in the pool of moonlight, Duxford arches an eyebrow at me moving, obviously he had expected me to cower or some such.

I see my armor and clothes are laid on a table beside where Derion is standing, every second that I can delay allows the moons healing balm to soak into my body.

He gestures to my gear "Valyrian dagger, very nice, I will like that...Valyrian chain mail? Now that is a find eh? Too small for me of course, but I'll get my men to work it into my armor, or, or I could sell it, I could buy a Major Lordship for this, Hah! I could probably buy the Stormlands from the Crown for this after Robert Baratheon and his rebels are put down!"

I can see avarice, greed and ambition glittering in his eyes, I see the dreams of power and wealth that Derion Duxford thinks he and his house will come into. There is also something else in his eyes, a sick lust, twisted and evil.

He picks up my sword, pulling it out "A Falkata, and double edged...very nice, some interesting modifications..." he places it back on the table, running his hands over my clothes; I would not have been surprised had he taken a good long sniff at my smallclothes...

He takes his eyes from my clothes, letting his gaze rove over my naked form, pure, ravenous lust twisting his face into a mask, this one likes to hurt, to dominate, to humiliate. I just stare calmly at him, the faintest smile on my lips, oh do please come closer my lovely; I have quite the surprise for you...

Derion stops, I am not reacting the way he expected, the slightest hint of confusion passes over his face "Spirited eh? I will enjoy breaking you..." he growls, I can smell the lust from him, rank, and fetid.

He unbuttons his doublet and strips off his shirt, his shoulders and arms are massive, corded with hard muscle, ah so he likes to show off his strength, to display himself. Well I could have figured that out from the way he killed Andrew, a sharp pain lances my heart at the memory, my eyes flicker with this.

Derion thinks that this is the first sign of fear in my eyes and he smiles "I am going to mount you little filly, and I'm going to fuck all your holes..."

Ah, such originality, such romanticism, such chivalry. "Well then big boy, you better get over here, then hadn't you?" I purr at him, my scent of desire and lust swelling out from my skin to reach his nostrils.

He starts; he has not suspected this reaction from me "Hah! You have courage lass, I'll fuck you better than that boy Andrew Wallance ever could!"

I doubt that, as you won't live to fuck me, but I only give him me best, sultry look. Derion tugs off his trousers. Ah ha! That explains it! He's not as small as Rhaegar was, but his pillar is not all that impressive, no wonder he is so aggressive and puffed up of his own importance, he is overcompensating. His giant, muscular frame makes him seem smaller if anything, he advances on me, I hold up my shackles "Are you not going to take these off?" I ask, husking my voice.

"No, you think me a fool girl?"

I bite my lip and draw blood, smiling up at him as I lick at the blood with the tip of my tongue "Going to fuck me while I'm all chained up? I might like that..."

His right hand flashes out, grabbing a handful of my hair, he hauls my head back "I so hope you do not!" He hisses at me, pushing my head back down he tries to force me to my knees. His arms strain but I will not kneel, surprise flashes across his eyes.

I slam my manacled hands forwards and up into his groin, my fists balled. He staggers backwards, his breath whooshing out of him, before he can scream I whip my hands up to his head, grabbing his hair. I yank him up, sweeping my legs through his, upending him and slamming him back down onto the stone floor, head first and hard. Harder than I intended too, as the back of his head splits open with a wet splat, blood, bits of bone and brain splashing out along the floor. Dammit! I had wanted to toy with Duxford a bit, I thrust my thumbs into his eyes, gouging them out, I then grab his neck and snap it, just to make sure. One more thing, I make my hands rigid, like blades and I slam them nails first into his groin, tearing and pulling, flinging the bloodied remains of his pillar and stones over my shoulder, to thud wetly against the wall, and then fall to the floor.

I run to where his trousers lie discarded, rooting out a key chain, unfastening my manacles, rubbing my wrists where the manacles have chafed at my skin. I stand for a second, bathing in moonlight, I feel my connection snap back with my wolves, a clamor of thoughts races through my head, my pack nearly went mad when they were suddenly cut off from me. I calm them, giving them instructions to join me outside the town.

My strength flows through me, I relish it, savor it, the strength to kill, kill and kill, times without number, without consequence, without a care.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#110

I dress quickly, there are two guards about halfway down the corridor, I can hear their heartbeats, and their whispered conversation. Apparently they have taken bets on how long it takes for me to start screaming, on how long it will take for Duxford to start buggering me, how long before he starts to cut me...

A snarl comes unbidden to my mouth, but something has caught my eye, I race over to a dresser, a drawer is partially open, a collection of razor sharp daggers greets me, one of them I recognize, it's a flaying knife, there are examples of these in Winterfell captured from the Bolton's when we crushed the Greystarks' and Bolton's rebellion. I am not interested in these, but I am interested in the three throwing daggers in their leather sheath. I pull it out, it has straps that allow you to affix the sheath to ones thigh, I strap it to my left thigh, do some quick draws of the knives, I spin them about, point first, flick them through my wrists, getting and feel for them ,I hurl two of them, to test their balance and weight. Nice, a tad heavy, but they fly good and flat when thrown hard. My Valyrian steel knife tends to 'wander' a bit when thrown, a consequence of its dragonbone handle and light blade, and though I throw it, it's not really designed to be thrown.

These beauties however are, and promise to be accurate out to maybe twenty, thirty feet, well no time like the present as I always say, time to test them. I let out an ear splitting scream, followed by some sobbing and moaning, spiced with a couple of No! Please! on top. I open the door a fraction, the guards have met in the center of the corridor, they are handing over money, a copper Star, glad to see that I rated such a magnificent sum!

I reach down and take out a throwing knife in each hand, jerk the door open fully with my foot and hurl the knives with all my strength. The Guards have seen the door burst open out of the corner of their eyes; they are moving but are too slow, both knives thud home, not exactly on target but enough to drop both of them in a clatter of armor. I run up the corridor, retrieve my knives, wipe them on the guard's trousers and dash down the stairs, the building is silent, echoing. I run on feet that almost leave no sound to the front door, I skid to a stop and listen, there are six men on guard outside. I decided to retrace my steps to the back of the building, there are kitchens, storerooms and stables back there. Though bursting out upon them and killing, killing, killing would be so satisfying, that is not my plan. My wolf howls with frustration in my head, the moon is riding in the sky, its silver sound sings in my blood, I stagger a little bit, I can feel the change, eager to burst forth. I let out a hacking cough and double over, gripping the wall. No! I will not change, I know that my wolf would ravage and reave its way through the town, leaving a red wake behind her, eager to visit her vengeance on all who would stand in our way. But escape is my plan, I have to find my friends, get away from here, and if I find them dead? Well then I will abandon my human skin forever and spend the rest of my days stalking and killing! I struggle with the images of howling savagery flashing behind my eyes, pushing down the change, forcing my wolf form away from my flesh.

Reaching a stout door, I listen out, nothing, I draw back the bolt and slip into the night. Racing through the town the streets are deserted, even at this later hour one would expect to see some people about. I suspect a curfew has been imposed, sure enough I hear the clatter of armor and an approaching patrol, four men. I look around and dart across the street and into a narrow alleyway, giving the mating cats there the almightily fright of their lives, probably knocking a few lives out of each one of them in the process.

The patrol is advancing, I listen carefully and sniff their scents on the wind, stupidly they are walking up the street hugging the walls of the buildings on my side of the street, that is going to make things easy I smile in the darkness, my wolf is eager, she wants blood.

I edge to the corner, pull my Falkata back across my body at shoulder height and draw my Valyrian steel dagger in my left hand, I count down in my head and whip my arm out across my body and into the street, I have misjudged the height of the man slightly, instead of decapitating him my sword smashes into the bridge of his nose just below his eyes. I use the momentum of my slash to pull my body around and out into the street, my left hand stabs out with my dagger leading, slamming under the jaw and up into the brain of the second man-at-arms. Both men stagger back, falling, the one from the sword cut knocks the man behind him off balance and the two of them stumble to the ground, I wrench my sword free and twist my left arm to pull the dead soldier out of the way, slashing back across my body, arm outstretched, severing the head of the third soldier just as his sword was freed from its scabbard.

The sharp stench of urine and faeces fills the air, along with the delicious smell of blood. The fourth man-at-arms is sobbing, he has fumbled getting his sword out and is still trapped under the body of the first man I killed. I wipe my sword, sheath it, retrieve my dagger, again wiping the blade and then grab the body atop the trembling man, despite his ruined face I recognize the man, and it's the bastard that slit Meya's throat! I snarl with rage and frustration, another fucker who has been sent to the hells far too easily. I bellow out a roar of rage and fling hos body behind me without a further glance, the corpse crashes against a stone building opposite, I hear bones breaking and shattering from the impact.

I look down at the man, he has lost himself to panic, and soiled himself in the process. I let my eyes turn golden and he flinches, whimpering. I reach down and grab him by the throat and haul him up, rising his feet up off the ground until just the toes of his boots are barely scuffing the cobblestones.

I look at him for a few seconds, saying nothing, then I speak "Do you know why I let you live?" I growl.

"No!" the man replies, his hands gripping mine where I hold him by the throat.

"I want you to deliver a message for me, can you do that?"

"Yes, Yes!" he bleats as I squeeze his throat slightly harder.

"I want you to tell your masters that the Wolf at the Dawn is coming for them! Tell them that I will slaughter every one of them that stands between me and Aerys Targaryen. You tell him, you tell him I'm coming! Tell the mad King that the Wolf at the Dawn is coming for him! Tell him I'm fucking Coming!"

With that I bashed the man's helmeted head against the wall of the house behind him, just a little tap to stun him, I dropped him and he staggered and reeled and little bit, good. I raced off down the street and into the enfolding darkness.

Last edited: Jul 25, 2017

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#112

I reach the outskirts of the town without further incident; behind me I can hear shouts and cries of alarm, time to make myself very scarce. I steal a horse from the Army encampment and ride off in a north westerly direction; my wolves are fanning out behind me, keeping an eye, ear and snout out for pursuit. I reach the forest that I am aiming for and slow down, the horse is blown from my madcap dash to escape, I dismount as we enter the forest, I walk the horse through the trees along a winding, narrow and almost imperceptible path, a poacher's path. My wolves are tracking behind me, nothing has followed me thankfully.

I trudge deeper and deeper into the forest, above me the moon lights the landscape, shafts of moonlight plunging through the forest canopy to illuminate patches here and there. My mind is occupied, I have let people down, people I promised to protect are dead because of me, my strength, my speed, it was all taken away from me. This must never happen again...and how did it happen in the first place? My wolf whispers in my mind, silver...

I snarl, 'now you tell me?' in response.

To this my wolf seems to shrug her shoulders, telling me that she only knew it was the silver when she 'came back'. Well that settles it, I cannot handle silver anymore, cannot dine off silver plates, cannot wear silver jewelry, Gods forbid I ever encounter anyone with a silvered blade, because then I am truly fucked...

Holding that rather merry thought in my head I scent Hendrik on the wind ahead, I slow down and stop, waiting for him to sigh and eventually move from his hiding place.

He stands up and walks towards me, I cannot see his eyes but as he passes through a moonbeam his face looks drawn, tired.

"Ser Andrew?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

I shake my head "Killed by Derion Duxford" I reply, seeing his hand grip the pommel of his sword.

I take two steps forward and place my hand over his worn, scarred one as it grips the pommel of his sword "Derion Duxford is dead, I killed him, I have avenged Andrew's death."

He searches my face, and seeing the truth etched there, relaxes his grip on his sword, letting out a sigh.

"Let's go" I say softly. We turn and continue walking, coming to a hidden cave entrance after a few minutes. We had discovered this hide out during one of our patrols, surprising a poacher and in return for not turning him in he had led us to this hideout. This had been Gerold's idea, Andrew had opposed him but thankfully we had been able to impose on Andrew that this was a good idea. We had taken this hideout as our rendezvous point if something went wrong, everyone knew that in the event of something going wrong that we were to meet up here, anyone here would wait for five days for the rest of us and then move on. We had secreted a small bag of coin in the cave, not telling the ex poacher of course, along with some food, spare clothes and swords, just in case.

The poacher that we caught, Donnal, had decided to join our little band, well he had been impressed, join us or be turned over to hang as a poacher. He was a slim youth of about twenty namedays, good with a knife, bow and trap, and with a great eye for tracking and camouflage. Donnal rises out of the forest, silent, he is very good, only that I caught his scent I would never have known he was there, he joins us, moving with an unnatural silence that is impressive, even to me. We enter the cave, its mouth is narrow, just wide and tall enough for a horse, the cave mouth twists left and then right, opening out and its floor dropping down into a largish space, more than large enough for our horses and the surviving members of our little band. The floor of the cave is covered with hard packed earth and has been in use for some time as evidenced by the burn marks on the earth from fires and soot marks on the ceiling.

Taria sees me and let's out a gasp, Elena lets out a shriek and shouts "Andrew? Where is Andrew Sanna!"

I can't bring myself to meet the girls eyes, Elena stops advancing on me, whispers a "No!" and starts wailing and crying, sinking to the rough floor of the cave, tears flooding from her eyes. Hendrick goes over to comfort the girl; Taria comes over to me "Alona and Meya?"

I just stare at her, a lump in my throat, the words just won't come. Taria just enfolds me in her arms and I let the tears come, tears for all of them, tears for me, tears for what I have become, tears for what I will have to do.

Last edited: Jul 26, 2017

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#114

We are sitting around a small fire, all rather glum at the turn of events, Elena has dried her eyes, but they are reddened by her crying, and she keeps glaring at me, obviously blaming me for her brother's death. Outside dawn is imminent, my pack has caught up and is lying low outside, and nobody is as of yet aware of them, for now. We will lie low here for a few days to let the immediate searches pass before we decide to move on again.

Hendrik and the ex House Wallance men-at-arms, Jared, Broden and Kiran are debating about what to do, they want to head north and try and make it to the Riverlands with Elena in tow, with or without me and the rest of us. I cannot let that happen, Elena and her guards might not make it, I cannot take that chance, the plan that has been forming in my head, I will have to risk it. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Gerold sits down beside me, hands me a wineskin, I take a slug, its rough swill, but I drink it down nonetheless.

"You know, I never really asked you, why did Alys Wallance charge me with protecting you? It's not like you need protecting...but just who are you? Why are you so important?"

I just look at him, I don't reply.

He jerked his thumb over at the remaining House Wallance men-at-arms "they are going to take off, if you cannot persuade them to stay. What odds do you give them for reaching Robert's army?"

"Less than evens?"

"Aye, and that's probably generous Sanna...and what about us then, that leaves us with Donnal, me, Taria and you."

"We've done okay so far" I retort.

"Yes, but we are going to have to cross the Crownlands, and the closer we get to Kings Landing the more dangerous it will get!"

Given what I said to the guard regarding my intention to Kill King Aerys, the defenses and patrols might be even heavier than Gerold was imagining.

"My intention is to cross over into the Crownlands and follow the Royal Army north, harrying outlying elements of them when I can" I cannot very well tell him that I intend to march on Kings Landing and take the Kings head now can I? Maybe doing that is a bad idea, maybe that will get all of us killed, well perhaps not me, but everyone else. Do I really want their souls on my conscience also?

Gerold's eyes widen at this, his eyebrows rising at this "Lass..."

"I'm sick and tired of hiding and running Gerold, I'm sick and tired of it!"

"You cannot take on all the Targaryen's by yourself, you're some fighter, but you are not that good!"

I don't make any reply, taking another swig of wine.

"Why do you hate them so much?"

"They killed my father and brother; they raped and nearly killed me, that's enough for me!"

Gerold nods his head "There is an old saying Sanna - when planning vengeance, dig two graves, one for your enemy and one for yourself..."

Taria comes over to me and sits down on the other side from Gerold, she lays her head on my shoulder, I tilt my head to lie my check on her head, we sit staring at the fire in silence for many. many minutes.

"Elena and myself have made you something" says Taria, she gets up and goes to one of the saddles that is lying behind us, the horses are deeper in the cave, they are tied up and they are lying down and sleeping.

She rummages for a while and returns with a cloth bundle, handing it to me.

"What is this?" I ask.

"It's your Sigil Sanna, 'the wolf at the dawn', we made it with some cloth that we bought, there is a pole to mount it on and everything, here let me show you!"

The sigil is on grey cloth, a black wolfs head face on, its eyes golden, with a golden half disk of the rising sun below the head. The wolfs head is angular looking, but it radiates menace, I smile at Taria as she mounts the Sigil on a pole, I stand up and take the flag from her solemnly.

"Thank you Taria", I suppress a tear, "you don't know how much this means to me, truly..."

Taria steps forwards and gives me a chaste kiss on the check, not exactly what I wanted, but with Gerold just over my shoulder I could hardly expect full on tongues now could I?

I hand the pole back to Taria, and move to where the saddle bags are lying, rooting in one of my saddle bags, finding what I wanted, I hefted the saddle bag onto my shoulder and took the pole back from Taria.

I stride to the entrance to the cave, turning back to face everyone "I will call for you in a few minutes, please come outside when I call, what I will have to say will be of great import for all of you."

With that I stride out of the cave and out into the pre dawn greyness, having just sent out a call for my wolves to come to me, I walked off to the side and out of view of the cave mouth. I lay the saddle down and pulled out what I wanted.

The pack was ready, hiding behind me and well out of sight. I stood back about twenty paces from the entrance, my pole bearing my new Sigil stuck in the ground, the banner flying above my head, still in the quiet pre dawn air.

"You can come out now!" I shout, and after a moment they all file out, mouths agape as they see me.

I stand tall, haughty, proud, my head held high, I am clad in one of the dresses that I wore in Winterfell, grey wool with a direwolf embroidered across my chest, around my shoulder was a wolf pelt and a cloak fell behind me. I wore my sword belt to clinch my waist, my sword and dagger hanging from it.

Gerold's eye's are interesting, they look at me, at the direwolf emblazoned on my chest, at my eyes, I see him mouth the word 'Stark' as if he is confirming something. The crafty sellsword probably suspected all along, but to his credit said nothing, that speaks of a discretion that I can use.

When they are all out I announce "You know me as Sanna, but that is not my name, I am Lyanna Stark, daughter of Lord Rikard Stark of Winterfell, sister of Lord Eddard Stark, Lord Paramount of the North. I am the betrothed of Robert Baratheon, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and I WILL return to my future husband! But I am more than that! You have all seen me fight, you know of my skill at arms, of my strength, my speed. Some of you are wary of this, some of you think that I wield dark magic's!"

At this my wolf pack rises and trots out of hiding, to array on either side of me. The men's hands go to their sword hilts, fear and terror in their eyes. Taria is looking at me open mouthed.

"The Starks are of the Blood of the First Men, and our Blood is strong, our sigil is the direwolf, of which these wolves are its smaller southron cousins. Legends tell of Starks who mingled their blood with that of their direwolves, of Starks having 'wolf blood'! These are not legends! The blood of the wolf flows in my veins!"

Shock greets these revelations by me, now to hammer them while they are stunned.

"Above me fly's the sigil I have taken for myself, 'the wolf at the dawn', we have fought together all of us, but we have fought separately, as disparate individuals, thrown together by the tide and fates of war and rebellion. But we will not survive the battles and trials to come as individuals, we must be sworn together, we must be like wolves in a pack!" I hold out my hands and my wolves' crowd around to lick my hands "We must become a pack, a sworn band of warriors! Will you pledge your swords to me Lyanna Stark, as the 'Wolf at the dawn'?"

Well now, let's see who moves first? Gerold and Hendrik step out first and draw their swords and lay them down, kneeling, the rest of the men following after only the slightest hesitation.

"Do you swear to shield my back and keep my council and give your lives for me if needs be?"

With a somewhat ragged chorus they all replied "We swear this by the Old Gods and the New!"

"And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table and I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear this by the Old Gods and the New! Arise!"

As they stand up, looking somewhat shaken, the sun breaks the horizon and a beam of sunlight strikes my banner above my head, my wolves throw back their heads and howl, my gaze level at my new sworn swords. Inside my head my wolf throws back her head and howls with her cousins, a promise of the bloody death and misery that awaits all my enemies.

"The Wolf at the Dawn! The Wolf at the Dawn! The Wolf at the Dawn!" shout my men in acclimation.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#116

"Well Hendrik, what do you think?" I whisper, as we peer into the clearing.

"We can take 'em, your wolves can cut off any of 'em that try to flee, you and Donnal can stick a few full off arrows, the rest, yeah we can take them..."

"Good" I grin back at the ex House Wallance man-at-arms "I was hoping you would say that..."

With a twist of thought I send instructions to my wolves, they fan out to cut off any retreat by the group in the small clearing. There are two mounted knights, some men-at-arms, who are dismounted, these are in Targaryen colours along with various banner men from loyalist houses in the Crownlands.

The party was busy hanging what appeared to be deserters from the Royal Army, smallfolk levies by the looks of them. My wolves had picked up the scent of the deserters early in the morning and we had moved to investigate, my wolves also tracking the pursuit of the deserters. With the pack now fully part of my little band it made a huge difference to how we moved and how we fought, we could now be much bolder in our attacks, much more sure of how we travelled, we could avoid patrols and parties sent out to hunt us, often turning on them and ambushing them.

In order to sow chaos and fear I would usually leave one man alive from our attacks, repeating the promise that I had made to the soldier about how I was coming for King Aerys. As a result the loyalists had beefed up their forces in the Crownlands to protect Kings Landing.

We had scoured the eastern Reach and southern Crownlands, leaving panic and an ever growing legend behind us. Often times when the forces sent against us were too strong for us take directly I would slip away at night with my wolves, transform and reave and slaughter to my heats content. Ah, that butchery was just so pleasurable, to be able to slash with my claws, tearing through flesh, blood spurting free, the screams and piteous wailing of my enemies music to my ears. Mercy? I had none, I was shown no mercy, my family had been shown no mercy, my friends had been shown no mercy. The only thing that mattered was strength, the strength to do as you pleased, to take what you wanted. That was the only thing that was important, that would be the only thing that was important in the future. I would never be vulnerable and frightened ever again, no, it would be my enemies who would know fear, my enemies who would know death...

It was not all wanton bloodshed of course, sometimes I just could not resist heaping a nice dollop of terror on top, In our wolfen form I would sometimes just slip into an enemy camp and kill the Knights or Minor Lords, along with anyone unlucky enough to be on guard or to see me. Sometimes I would just butcher a few unfortunate sentry's, and leave their torn bodies on display for their comrades to find.

Many were the small detachments of loyalist troops sent out to forage, to collect supplies and levies, or scouts that were never seen again, or who were later discovered slaughtered, or who had a single, shaken survivor return to spread the myth of the 'Wolf at the Dawn'.

The closet we came to Kings Landing was several tens of leagues, ambushing several patrols that had been sent out at night from the surrounding and growing army camps of the Royalist Army. As we were this close I had let Gerold ride on and visit a few taverns and alehouses in the villages near to the army to see what gossip he could pick up. You would be surprised what you could learn by plying soldiers with free dink and whores all night, so we had a good idea of the Royal Army's intentions and plans for confronting Robert, along with who was to lead it north.

Jamie Lannister, the son of Tywin Lannister would be leading the Royal Army north, the army had started its trek north a week ago, once the last of the Dornish spears arrived, along with forces from the Reach pulled back from the siege of Storms End. These Dornish forces had been rather, chewed on their way up to Kings Landing, we had harried at them quite hard, sowing panic and fear in their ranks, or at least I had...

The Mad King had started to burn anyone who displeased him with wildfire, and was sacking members of his Small Council willy-nilly. The scent of desperation, of defeat, hung about the Targaryen cause as Robert secured the northern Riverlands and marched south, crossing the Trident and marching south towards Kings Landing. To the west there were rumors of the forces of House Lannister massing on their eastern borders, and just what the Old Lion was up to was the subject of much speculation.

I had to admit I loved this, the tang of danger, the joy of hunting, the thrill of killing my enemies with impunity. My wolf and I were free, unfettered by any constraints, able to reave and slaughter to our hearts content, to repay the Targayen's with blood all the pain and suffering that they have caused me and my family.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#121

I bring my mind back to the present, the hangings were continuing, the Knights had insisted that rather than hanging the deserters en-mass, that they be hung one at a time, I could see that the Knights were obviously getting a sick thrill out of the terror of men waiting to be hung. Many of the men were sobbing, had lost control of their bowels, were pleading for mercy; but they were getting none as one by one they were hoisted up and hung, slowly kicking and struggling on the end of the rope until it choked the life out of them.

I turn to Donnal, our ex poacher is the best with a bow after me, and we have looted a nice supply of bodkin point arrows, that should do nicely for the knights and men at arms, after that the banner men should just pose the usual slaughter. I nod to him, he nods back, I turn to Hendirk, and give him a nod.

I grip my bow, grab the arrows in my quiver and stab them into the ground in front of me and leap to my feet, drawing and losing an arrow towards the 1st knight, the second arrow is in the air before the first one strikes, beside me Donnal has fired off his first arrow. The rest of my men rise and charge towards the loyalists, I get a few more arrows off before the fight becomes the usual melee, I drop my bow, draw my sword and charge forwards, eager for the fight. Both Knights are down, I ignore them and make for a group of six banner man of some Crownland house whose sigil and colors I do not recognize.

Their eyes widen when they realize who they are fighting and one turns to run, I ignore him, my wolves will take care of him. They charge me, in a rather ragged line, nice, I can take them one by one, I charge towards them, my teeth barred. The first one reaches me, screaming an incoherent cry, his sword slashing wildly at me, I duck down and smash into him, leading with my left shoulder, I hear ribs splinter and shatter as I heave him up and over my shoulder, to land in a splayed heap behind me. The next one is upon me, I slash with my sword, batting aside his weapon and reverse my cut, opening his neck to the spine, the next man rushes in, his momentum carrying him beyond me, I parry his strike, dodge left and slash downwards with my sword, neatly chopping off his right leg just below the knee.

The fourth and fifth men split up, to approach me from either side, I flick one of my throwing knives at the one to my left, the dagger burying itself in his right eye, he staggers back screaming. The last banner man looks warily at me, he knows his life is now measured in seconds, but he does not flinch, coming forwards with a shield and his sword stabbing at me. I can't fault him for courage, but he fights for the wrong side, I launch a flurry of attacks, driving him back, hacking at him, I can feel my sword deliver ringing blows to his shield and his sword arm. After a few more strikes his shield begins to lower, falling out of nerveless hands. I dart forwards, ripping his shield from his grip and placing my sword tip on his throat "You fight well" I say, staring into his eyes.

"Fuck you Wolf Bitch!" is all he says in response, so I just slam my blade into his throat, my eyes never leaving his until the light fades from them.

I withdraw my sword, around me the battle has finished; the only task is dispatching the wounded Loyalists. I walk over the where the Knights lie in the dirt, one is dead, an arrow right through his skull, the other one is still alive, he has several arrows in him but he is roaring his defiance and cursing and swearing up to an impressive volume, can't have that now, it might draw attention.

As he sees me hove into view he stops abruptly and grunts "I thought all this nonsense about the 'Wolf at the Dawn' was just some mummers trickery..."

"And now you know the truth" I say flatly to him.

"Fucking bitch! When we finally catch you we will fuck you to death, you cunt!"

"Really? How very predictable of you, oh and it's 'if' you catch me, not when!" I slash my sword across his neck, opening his throat, his gurgles as he dies do not interest me. Instead I turn my eyes up to the final deserter, who is hanging before me, his feet tethering on a loose tree stump that when kicked over would allow him to fall that fatal few inches.

The lad is terrified, his face is gaunt and hungry looking, but he has broad shoulders, and looks strong. I walk around him, his arms are large, his hands big and scarred, returning to his front I look up into his eyes, he's a handsome buck, feed him up, dress him in some finery and the pretty young maidens would be throwing themselves at him.

"What's your name boy?"

"Creene milady!" he responds.

"And what brings you here Creene?" I ask, a little edge in my voice.

"I, I deserted from the army milady, I, I, did not want to fight, not for the Targaryen's, not after what they did..."

Interesting "Go on lad, you have all the rest of your life to tell your story..."

"I was a blacksmith, apprenticed to the castle blacksmith of Ser Jaddon Bayle, a Knight of the Stormlands. Ser Jaddon followed his Lord Paramount to war, I and many like me were drafted into the levies to defend his lands. We were crushed by the Loyalists though; I was given a choice, fight for the Targaryen's or be killed. I chose to fight, but then discovered that the castle had been sacked and everyone killed, my mother and sister included."

"So you deserted?"

"Aye, they beat us, starved us, I told them I was a blacksmith and I could work a forge, but they did not listen to me. Then the attacks started, the sentries found butchered, the patrols vanishing, sometimes a single survivor stumbling back, telling tales of a terrifying wolf woman who fights with the strength of ten men and the speed of the wind itself..."

I smile sweetly up at him "And what do the Lords and Knights think of these tales?"

"They have started hanging anyone who speaks of it, but they are equally terrified...I, I, I saw the beast, the thing that stalks us in the night..."

I must be slipping up, tsk, tsk, leaving witnesses like that "Oh? And what did you see Creene?"

"A, a thing, hunched, wolf like, but walking upright like a man, it's talons dripping red, as it fled into the woods, its eyes golden in its head..."

All I have to do is kick over the tree stump, I rest my foot on it and rock it back and forth a little, Creene's eyes go wild "Please, please miliady! I can fight, I'm a good blacksmith, I swear! I have no love for the Targaryen's, please, please!"

Hendrik has come up beside me "We could use a blacksmith you know...someone to help us look after our weapons and armor...can you swing a sword as good as you can swing a blacksmith's hammer lad?"

"No, but I can learn, I promise!" gasps Creene.

Hendrik looks at me "right answer my Lady?"

"Aye, aye, but Creene, you need to know something?"

"Yes milady?" he asks, terror still in his eyes.

Behind me I can hear the commotion as my wolves escort the banner man that ran away from fighting me back into the clearing. The man is sobbing and has soiled himself as my wolves bring him forwards, he collapses to the ground and starts wailing and pleading for mercy.

I stand aside from where Creene is strung up, so that he can have a better view of what is about to happen.

"Mercy?" I ask the bawling man "Mercy? That is a strange concept that you speak of. I was given no mercy when I was raped by Targaryen's, my father and brother who tried to rescue me were given no mercy either, why should I know anything of mercy?"

The man lets out a wail at this but I turn my back on him, turning to face Creene, holding his eyes "I will spare you Creene, you will join my little band, but if you desert us, if you betray us, remember what you see here today, for that will be your fate!"

My men know what is coming, having seen me reward my wolves on more than one occasion; they look away, pretending to be busy at something.

As I am speaking my wolves launch themselves on the man, biting and tearing, his agonized screams go on and on as my wolves devour him alive, his screams are then suddenly cut short and for a while the only sounds are of my wolves feasting - cloth and flesh tearing, bones crunching and splintering and the odd growl of the wolves at each other as they squabble over the choicest bits of the carcass.

Creene's eyes have gone as wide as saucers, I flash my eyes golden at him, saying to Hendrik "Cut him down" which is just as well as the boy's eyes roll up in his head and he faints dead away.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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Jul 27, 2017

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#123

Our newest recruit proves to be almost pathetically eager to help and to learn how to fight, he is big and strong and is good with his steel in his hands considering he has little or no training. After a few days with us he asks for a close helm that we had captured, saying he could shape the metal into a wolf visage. He does mention that as he does not have a forge the result will be a little rough, but I let him, it will keep him occupied and I'm interested to see the results.

We have been steadily following some of the rear guard and foraging elements of the Royal Army north for over a week now, snapping at their heels, from what we have been able to learn Robert and his Army are coming straight down the Kings Road, and that they are eager to do battle. I smile when I learn this, Robert would be eager for battle; he wants to smash the last remaining large Royalist force north of Kings Landing as soon as possible. The bulk of the forces of the Reach are still besieging Storms End, but with increasing numbers being drawn off to guard the eastern Reach and southern Crownlands from me and my men.

I still remember that day in the Reach, a few days after our escape and my revelation of who I was to my new sworn swords. We were observing a village from a nearby forest, when a party of men-at-arms with wagons had pulled up into the village, they had stripped the tithe storehouses at sword point, rounded up all the cows and pigs and marched off. But not before they had hung several of the village's men for resisting the requisitioning of virtually all of the food in the village.

We tracked them convoy as it left the village, falling upon it as it passed through the forest we were hiding in, I fought with a fury that surprised even me, and frankly left my companions wondering what they had gotten themselves in for. My wolves had ran down several men who had tried to escape our fury, tearing them to pieces with a snarling savagery. We turned around the wagons and drove them, and the animals, back into the village, handing them back over to the startled villagers. They insisted upon giving us some food and supplies in return, so we left well stocked for a few days travel with bread, cheese, salted and smoked meat along with ale.

From then on my original plan of just heading straight to Kings Landing and killing Aerys Targaryen began to fade, for if I am honest, I was having way too much fun, and killing Aerys would bring all of my freedom to exult in my new existence to an end.

But as they say, all good things must come to an end someday and sure enough, a few days after our encounter with the deserters we hear word of a mighty battle level with the Gods Eye, Robert and his forces smashed the Royalist forces, who had shattered into several groups which were retreating away from the battle. Apparently Jamie Lannister had escaped the aftermath of the battle with a small party of men loyal to him and was fleeing south westwards towards where his father's armies were now marching up the Goldroad towards Kings Landing.

Several smaller hosts were withdrawing eastwards into the Crownlands with the bulk of the remaining royalist forces retreating down the Kingsroad towards Kings Landing. Robert was in hot pursuit of this force, and had fought several skirmishes along the way with the Royal Army, never managing to quite repeat the success of the first encounter, being called 'The Battle of the Green Fields'.

I make my decision, our random reaving and killing is over, our job now is to link up with Robert's Army as soon as possible, and if we should run into small royalist bands along the way? Well that was just their bad luck now wasn't it?

Given that time is now of the essence we abandon our more covert travelling arrangements and head north eastwards as fast as we can.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#124

"Starks" I whisper, the Myrish spyglass at my eye, I can see a party of Stark scouts riding across the fields below, the Direwolf banner flying proud above their heads.

I remove my eye from the spyglass and hand it to Hendrik who is to my right, to my left is Donnal, the three of us are lying in tall grass and bushes at the crest of a small hill. The rest of my band is back behind us the dark forest that looms a league away behind us.

My plans to link up with Robert's Army did not go quite to plan, abandoning our more circumspect travel plans had been something of a mistake, we had attracted too much attention and been chased by several significant detachments of loyalist cavalry. We had escaped, barely, into the depths of a forest and that night I had crept forwards with my wolves to take a look at what was confronting us. The forest we were hiding in covered a small plateau, and the only way up or down from the plateau was now firmly blocked by Targaryen soldiers. All around the plateau were cliffs, the smallest were at least one hundred feet high, the tallest over four hundred feet in height, we had been trapped.

So really the only way was to fight our way off, but we were outnumbered forty to one at least, and word was surely have been sent that the 'Wolf at the Dawn' had been trapped and reinforcements were thus certain to be on their way. The longer we stayed here the less our chances of survival became.

It would be down to me then, I slipped out of my clothes and let the wolf form take me, I directed my wolves to scout out the enemy camp, soon I knew where all the sentries were and a general idea of the layout of the camp, a plan began forming in my mind. My wolves had found a narrow pathway down off the plateau that allowed us to descend to one side of the enemy camp, it was far too narrow and treacherous for men or horses for that matter, but wolves managed it without a problem.

One of my wolves had crept close enough to the camp to overhear the leader of the cavalry, some Reacher Knight, discussing the situation; He was newly arrived from the Stormlands and was utterly dismissive of advice from others about the danger of tangling with me and my band. He scoffed at the appeals for stronger guards, for better protection of the horses and for keeping everyone awake and alert until dawn, when the expected reinforcements would arrive. Several hundred mixed Crownland and Dornish infantry which was marching through the night to get to here.

I smiled, pulling back my leathery lips to let my fangs show, if there was one thing I could rely on it was Knights often being idiots when it came to those of lower status trying to give advice. In this case it was a hoary old Man-at-Arms who had pleaded with the Reacher Knight to beef up their defenses.

Clouds have been scudding across the moon, and a hard rain begins to fall, dammit, I had wanted it to be dry, I wanted to set the encampment on fire, ah well, what was it that some old Lord had once said? 'No plan survives contact with the enemy'. The cavalry had penned their horses to one side of the camp, I was now stalking forwards, low to the ground, the rain and the wind would cover my scent from the horses, until of course the rain suddenly slackened and the wind shifted.

The animals begin to shy away and neigh in increasing panic as they sense my approach, my wolf pack is fanning out around the camp, they will pull down anyone trying to escape the coming carnage.

"Do the horses seem a little nervous to you?" I hear a voice ask, two of the guards are stationed near the paddock, they are sheltering in the lee of a tree, trying to stay out of the rain.

"There're horses, they get spooked by their own shadows!" another voice replies.

"Sshhhh! You hear that?" asks the first voice in alarm. He cannot have heard my approach? And if he has he has a dammed fine set of ears. The first guard has stepped out from under the tree and has taken several steps forwards in my direction. I am keeping my eyes half closed so as not to betray my presence by their soft, golden glow. My hearing and sense of smell is more than enough to pin point the two guards for me though.

"No!" replies the other.

I hear a sword whisper out of its scabbard "There is something out there!"

The second guard suppresses a curse and moves to join his companion; the horses are now getting very agitated, were they not teethed they would have stampeded by now.

The guards take a few more steps into the darkness, interestingly only the second one smells nervous, and then the first one lets off a thunderous fart and bursts out laughing at his comrades startled jump at the sudden noise.

"Oh you are a right little prick!" the second guard scowls.

"Did you see your face? I swear you pissed yourself! 'Halt, who goes there! Uhhh! Ahahaahaha!"

"There IS something out there!" says the second, his voice suddenly tight with fear.

I have been creeping forwards slowly, a few more seconds and I will rush them, ending their lives in two swipes of my claws.

"Yeah, don't even try me!" laughs the first one, unbuttoning his flies and letting lose a stream of urine.

"Renick!" the other guard hisses urgently.

I rise and open my eyes fully, leaping forwards.

"You think I'm an idiot?"

"RENICK!" the second guard screams, frantically waving his sword, my right claw descends in a sweeping arc, cleaving through the first guard, batting him out of the way my left claw swings back towards the second guard, I tear out his right sword arm with my blow.

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#126

I lope forwards, fast, eager, my senses probing the night before me, the first tent that I come upon has two men struggling on their sword belts and just exiting it, I punch with my fist as I run past them, crushing the chest of the first and braining unconscious the second one behind him with the single blow.

I dart to my left, tearing open the next tent with my talons to get at the soft, meaty things inside, a few quick slashes and the screaming ends, blood splattered everywhere. I run back out of the camp and into the darkness as behind me shouts and screams of alarm cut the night.

Out beyond the camp I duck down and scuttle along behind some rocks and bushes as cover, before I charge back into the camp, coming upon eleven men rushing along to see what the commotion was all about. I barrel into them from the side, whipping my claws and feet back and forth, rending and tearing them to pieces is a frenzy of screams and torn flesh. I take off again into the night outside the camp, working my way further around the outside of the camp. I wait in the darkness, my eyes watching, my snout quivering and my ears rotating back and forth above my head, yes, a few seconds more.

I break from cover and run fast, coming upon five men hurriedly putting on armor and sword belts, they see me and scream out a warning before I am on them, talons flashing out and slicing the first two into bloody, ragged things that screamed and screamed as they fell to the sodden earth. I dart to one side to avoid a sword swipe, kicking out with my leg I connect solidly with the groin of the sword wielder, I feel bones break in his pelvis, I whip and arm forwards and grab him by the shoulder and hurl him into the two remaining men, all there fly back to impact with a tent behind them, which promptly collapses on top of them.

With this I once again retreat to the darkness surrounding the encampment and seek cover, to watch and wait.

I watched as the remaining men discovered my handiwork and were now all congregated in the center of the encampment, shouts and panicked voices were raised in argument. Eventually order is restored and the men fan out to guard the perimeter of the camp, with torches held aloft to light the darkness.

Oh good, I was hoping they would do this, I loped off into the darkness, keeping an eye on the camp, no one saw me as I retraced my steps, I was positioning myself on the side that was nearest to where the largest tents were located. I hunkered down and waited for a while, my wolf was impatient though, she wanted to wade in again and kill, but I stayed her hand, not just yet, not just yet.

After an hour or so and with no further attacks the guard is reduced, and hour later again the guard is further reduced, I can hear the older man-at-arms arguing with the Knight over this. It will be a shame to have to kill him, he has a good head on his shoulders, but he does wear the colors of a Targaryen banner man so... I creep forwards, slithering over the wet ground, moving slowly, ever so slowly forwards, the rain starts to hammer down again, great sheets of it drenching everything. The guards hunch away and try and shelter their faces, that's what I have been waiting for, I move forwards and quickly dash into the encampment. No shouts follow me, I have not been spotted, good, I slash open the tent of the knight leading this company and plunge inside.

The knight I standing with a cup of wine raised to his mouth, I am on him before he can react and I pick him up and throw him out of the front of the tent, racing out after his flying body. The two guards outside are dealt with by ramming my taloned hands into their bellies as I come upon them, lifting the two screaming men up into the air before shrugging them off, both falling to crash heavy and lifeless onto the wet slick grass and mud.

The camp is in uproar, men piling towards the open space in front of their commanders tent, they stop and waver when they see me stalking after the Knight, lying broken in the mud. I reach down and pick up the knight, grabbing his head in one taloned hand I grip the rest of him by his right shoulder and I pull my hands in opposite directions, His head and quite a bit of his spine is torn out of his body, I toss the two parts to either side of me, bellowing out a challenge to the men to attack.

Some run away, others are rooted to the spot, but the majority charge me, screaming and roaring, and then the slaughter begins.

After I have finished I return to my clothes, I had left them near a stream, I washed myself off to clean the blood and associated gore off me, I changed back into my human form and washed myself again, just to be sure, dressed quickly, I was cold and bone wet and I wanted to be off this dammed plateau as soon as possible.

I had made sure that my group was ready to move as soon as I returned and we trotted down off the plateau, past the now ruined camp, my wolves having eaten their fill of the dead. I could feel their eyes on me as we passed in the dark, thankfully the rain had started up again and it and the darkness of the night hid the worst of the carnage from their view.

I bring my mind back to the present, well it's time to reveal ourselves, I gesture to the forest, and Gerold and the rest of the men burst out from it, they cannot be seen by the Stark scouts as they are shielded by the hill. They come up to just below the crest, dismount and hunker down forwards to us.

"Remember what we discussed Gerold?" I say.

"Yes my Lady" he replies.

"Good, now up onto the brow of the hill and get their attention!"

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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Jul 29, 2017

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#127

My little band, proudly flying the banner of the Wolf at the Dawn, crest the hill and stop, waiting. I stay back, Taria and Elena, along with the rest of our horses trot out of the forest and into the dip behind the hill. My wolves also stream out and go to ground in some scrub bush near the rear of the summit of the hill, waiting.

I know the words that Gerold has to say that will bring Ned at a gallop to us. And sure enough the scouts send off a rider at a furious gallop back to the main van of the Army, it is late in the day so Robert's host is probably making camp for the night already. Our party is a little on edge, but I keep myself hidden behind a full face helmet, looted from a Crownlands Knight, it's been reworked in a rough approximation of a snarling wolf's head by Creene. As he had said it was not a very good job, but considering he had no forge to work with and could only cold hammer the steel, it was not bad.

The Stark scouts send out some of their number to continue scouting but the bulk stays with us, they engage Gerold in small talk, Gerold is his usual easy self, soon he is swapping stories and a wine skin with the Stark men. In the distance I can see a group of horsemen riding fast, the Direwolf banner of my house streaming proudly in the wind above them. I smile behind my helmet and pull on a cloth vest that displays the black wolfs head with golden eyes and a rising sun which is my personal sigil. It's not a surcoat but it will have to do in this case.

The new riders sweep up onto our position, Ned at their head; I suddenly have butterflies in my stomach. My brother has put on muscle since I last saw him, and his face is harder, older. His eyes have that all too familiar distant stare about them. He has seen war and death has my brother, just like all of us.

I mount my horse and trot forwards slowly; Ned's voice is raised as he demands to know what Gerold knows of his sisters whereabouts.

"I know nothing of your sister's whereabouts" Gerold replies, Ned and his banner men flinch, suspecting a trap "But the Wolf at the Dawn does" he says, gesturing to me. I curse Gerold for his dammed theatrics, he nearly got himself killed the fool!

All eyes turn to me, my horse trots forwards a few more steps, I reach up and pull off my helmet, shaking my hair free "Hello Ned" I say to his stunned face.

Ned's mouth works in silence a few times, he appears to have difficulty speaking. He dismounts, I do the same and we rush at each other, colliding I hear Ned's breath woosh out of him, I nearly barrel him over. We hug each other fiercely; I have to be careful not to crush my brother. Tears stream down my face, and Ned's eyes pour forth tears. Both of us are laughing and crying at the same time, just simply joyous to be reunited again.

"Gods Lyanna, is that really you?"

"Yes Ned, It's really me!"

"Send word to the camp, we must Inform Lord Robert!"

"NO!" I shout "Ned. I want this to be a surprise for Robert, please?" I ask in my best coquettish voice.

Ned looks at me a little strange and just nods his head.

"So you are this 'Wolf at the Dawn' we have been hearing about, all sorts of fanciful tales of wolves and savage attacks leaving whole columns of Targaryen troops dead?"

"Oh, you know Ned, a little rumor here, a little bit of gossip there, an idea planted with some coin to grease a palm; soon fantastic tales start and grow wings..."

At this my wolves trot up from where they have been hiding and array themselves behind me in a semi circle.

"Lyanna?" asks Ned in a whisper.

"Our house symbol is the Direwolf, our ancestors rode Direwolves into battle, some even say that Starks lay with their Direwolf bitches and begot wolfish children on them. The blood of the wolf flows in the veins of the Starks Ned! It is not surprising then that a pack of wolves developed a fondness for me?"

Ned eyes my wolves warily "Are they tame, like hounds?" he asks.

"No" I reply "but they are well behaved enough, they won't attack unless I say so."

Ned nods his head, but his eyes are wary, they search mine, looking deeply.

"You have changed Lyanna; you are not the girl I last saw in Harennhall..."

"And neither are you the callow youth who had to be dragged up to dance with Ashara Dayne! Wars change people Ned, change them or kill them, that's the Gods honest truth of it!"

"Aye Laynna, that is the truth. What do you know of the war?" he asks, I can see wariness in his eyes.

"A little, I know of what the mad King has done..." I reply, my voice low, a growl threatening at the back of my throat.

"You know about father and Brandon?"

"Yes" I reply "Aerys Targaryen will pay for his crimes!"

Ned looks strangely at me, at the vehemence in my voice, he steps away and looks at me properly, holding my shoulders in his outstretched arms. He shakes his head in wonderment "If only father could see you now! Brandon would die of a fit of laughter if he saw you dressed up like that!"

"I have had to fight my way from Dorne to here Ned. I've killed men and some women by the dozen, most deserved it, some did not. But every one of them died so that I could be here Ned!"

Gerold has dismounted and strolled over "Lord Stark, your sister is the finest warrior I have ever served with."

Ned turns to the man and I say "This is Gerold, my 1st sworn sword, the others are all sworn to me as the Wolf at the Dawn, all have fought with me, all will attest to my skill at arms..."

"But how Lyanna?" asks Ned.

"Learning to kill or dying makes you a fast learner Ned" is all I say in reply, fixing him with a hard stare.

Ned shakes his head and breaks my stare "No matter, you are safe, that is all that is important, let us get back to the camp and surprise Robert!"

"Yes, lets" I agree.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#128

My company and Ned's Stark banner men head back down the road towards the Army's camp, I can see it in the distance as we round a large forest to our left, an untidy spread of tents and hundreds of banners flying in the sky, columns of smoke rising into the still air told of cooking fires for the evenings meal being prepared.

We ride through the camp, my appearance causing whispers and comments to spread like wildfire, until we reach the centre of the encampment and Robert's tent. My ears pick up familiar sounds from inside, I smirk, oh Robert Baratheon, but you are such a fool.

We all dismount and Ned tells one of the guards to fetch Robert, telling him that the Warden of the North has some important news that cannot wait.

I stand casually; our horses have been moved back and behind me stand my seven sworn men, the long pole bearing my banner is stuck into the ground, my sigil flying high and proud above me. Ned is eyeing it and me warily, he is plainly nervous, Jon Arryn and a party of Vale Knights are just coming on the scene, Jon's eyes widening in shock when he sees me. Robert bursts out of his tent, stuffing a lose shirt into his trousers and roaring "What in the name of Baelor's Blue Balls is so Bloody important Ned that it couldn't wait?"

Robert's eyes passed over me as he fixed his gaze on Ned, not really seeing me as he was too annoyed at having been interrupted from his daily wenching. Ned simply nodded his head in my direction, the faintest of smiles on his face.

Robert turned towards me, thunder on his face, ready to bawl out a string of obscenities not doubt, his eyes widen in shock, he staggers a little bit "Ly..." he croaks, swaying slightly.

"Hello Robert" I smile back at him "Missed me?"

"Oh by all the Gods!" Robert roars and rushes forwards, scooping me up into a crushing bear hug, as he lifts me up a slight frown crosses his face, I'm much heavier than he expects, he looks down at me, I see the quick calculation in his eyes, it must be the armor I'm wearing he thinks.

"Ly, Ly" he mumbles into my hair "I've missed you so much..."

I smile and pull back from him to look into his face, he is a handsome fellow, tall, very strong, broad shouldered, I can feel how solid he is as I grip at him. He settles be back down on the ground and takes a step back from me, glancing up behind me, seeing my sworn swords, and my banner, looking down at me and seeing my sigil on my chest.

"The Wolf at the Dawn? That's, that's YOU?"

I smile demurely "I could not very well cross thousands of leagues of Westeros riven by war on my lonesome now could I? And on the way, well why not put some salt on the Dragons tail while I'm at it!"

Robert throws back his head and bellows out a laugh "Ahhh Lass!" he turns to Ned "She's a fighter, is your sister Ned! Imagine the sons I'll have with her!"

Not if you don't stop whoring and wenching you won't I think, while I just send my best, beaming smile at Robert.

"These fellow behind you?"

"These are my sworn swords, they protected me and brought me safe back to you Robert" a small embellishment of the truth but one that was certainly more believable than the whole truth.

Robert strides around me and stands before my men "Are you men Knights?" he asks.

I reply for my men "No my Lord, these men are common soldiers, but each and every one of them has the heart of a knight, the courage of the wolf, and they upheld the honor of your betrothed!"

"SWORD!" Robert roars out "Someone give me a fucking sword!"

I reach down and pull out my sword, handing it to Robert, who gives it a curious glance before shouting out "Kneel", I nod my head and my men kneel.

Robert strides to Gerold first, who looks terrified; I did have a suspicion that Robert would do this so I have done a little preparation, sigils and words for my new 'Knights'.

Robert said the words and anointed Gerold as a Knight, when he got to the bit about arising I cut in "Ser Gerold of House Blackwolf, sigil a black wolf howling at a silver moon, words 'first sword of the dawn'. Robert grunted in agreement, behind I could see Taria's eyes open in shock, her hand going to her slightly swollen belly.

And one by one six other new knightly houses were created, to go with House Blackwolf, Houses Farrest, Carrick, Stonekeep, Byrne, Poacher and Smithson.

Robert, as usual looked immensely pleased with himself, my new Knights had a mixture of shock, fear, joy and nervousness on their faces. Robert was busy slapping backs and shaking hands, and asking them about their journey north, I moved towards him and touched his arm "My love?"

"Yes my Lady?" Robert asked, pulling back from a bear hug that had probably crushed Hendrik's ribs.

"These men were sworn to me as common soldiers, they have arisen as Knights, may I have your permission for them to re swear their fealty to me as Knights at the Dawn?"

"Why Not!" replied Robert, as usual giving little thought to the matter.

"Kneel!" I commanded, my new knights went to one knee.

"You knelt to me before as soldiers and swore yourselves to me as Men at the Dawn, do you swear to carry out the same service and blood lien to me and mine as Knights as you did as soldiers?"

"We do" they responded.

"Then rise, Knights at the Dawn!"

Jon Arynn slides forwards with a party of Vale knights to greet me, the smell from his breath is overpowering, rank, I nearly gag, has this man never used an arka twig in his life?

He greets me rather coolly, gives me a once over with his eyes, his lips thinning at my wearing armor and sporting a sigil and weapons. I can smell the distaste he has for me, coming off him in waves, what's his problem? Bloody old Andal fool, probably thinks I should be wearing a gown and blushing and tittering at all the handsome knights he has behind him. Handsome knights in shining armor that I could rend and tear with claws, turning them into bloody ruin, I smile sweetly at that thought, but my smile does not reach my eyes.

"My Lady, we have heard much about the death of Rhaegar Targaryen and his Kingsguard, much of it contradictory. Would you be able to shed some light on this matter for us?"

I turn away and catch Taria's eye, nodding to her.

"Indeed I may Lord Arryn, Rhaegar Targaryen, Oswald Whent, Arthur Dayne and Gerold Hightower are all dead, dead by my hand!"

Jon Arryn scoffs at this, the knights behind him breaking into barely suppressed laughter.

I can see Ned getting worried, Robert's jaw has gone slack, I hold up my hand "You mock me Lord Arryn? You doubt my word? I, who has travelled across Westeros in the midst of rebellion, to rejoin my betrothed?" My body is pouring off a scent that screams Kill! Death! I notice that everyone has gone quiet, the Knights behind Jon Arryn are suddenly nervous, their hands drifting to the pommels of their swords.

Taria hands me an oil cloth wrapped bundle, I unwrap it, and un-sheath Dawn, I can hear the sharp intake of breath from Ned and Robert.

I fling the sword to the ground at Jon Arryn's feet "That is Dawn, the weapon of the Sword of Morning and formerly wielded by Ser Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard" I put a particular ironic emphasis in the word 'Ser'. "Who, along with his companions held down a little girl while their seven cursed Prince raped me, time and time again! Do you question my word Lord Arryn?" I hissed.

The tang of impending violence hangs heavy in the air, delicious and pungent. I don't have my sword, Robert has stuck it into the ground a few feet away, I could reach it in two swift strides, two strides back and then Jon Arryn loses his head. Or I could just whip out my knife and stab him? No the sword sounds better, then I can properly tangle with those fancy knights behind him.

"I am sure the tales of your escape and subsequent adventures are quite some story, I look forwards to hearing them some day my Lady" says Arryn, bowing slightly to me and Robert and then taking his leave, before he departs I reply "Lord Arryn, I will be more than happy to tell my story..." In fact if this old Andal bastard annoys me enough I'll fucking show him how I made it across Westeros...

Robert comes up beside me "You slew Rhaegar and his Kingsguard? By yourself?" Incredulity is obvious in his eyes.

"Aye my love, I did, but that is not important now. I have people to feed and see too, horses also, and a daughter to deliver to her father. Elena!"

Elena comes forwards, we have dressed her up in her best clothes for this, she gives Robert a curtsy and he smiles "Aye, you're a pretty one."

Then he notices Taria standing beside Gerold, and her pregnant belly "Ser Gerold, is this your Lady Wife?" Robert asks, both of them blush deep red at this and before Gerold can answer I say "Taria is his woman but he has been a bit lax in his duties to the Old Gods and the New when it came to making an honest women out of her!"

"What! Ser Gerold, you and Lady Taria must be married at once! I will not have her good name, your good name nor the good name of my Betrothed's sworn swords besmirched!" Robert is grinning from ear to ear, as usual thinking that this was a great idea.

Taria was smirking over at me; I gave her a wink in response, Gerold looked like a helpless fish that had just been landed, his mouth opening and closing but nothing coming out.

"We will have a feast tonight!" roars Robert "to celebrate the safe return of my betrothed and to celebrate the wedding of Ser Gerold and Lady Taria!" Robert moves in and gives Gerold's hand a vigorous shake, nearly rattling the poor man's remaining brains out of his skull. He gives Taria a naughty slap on her bum and a wink "I'll give this blushing bride away myself!"

I roll my eyes to heaven, but cannot contain a hint of a smile, Robert in a good mood is generous to a fault, stupidly generous but easily malleable, which reminds me...

"My love?" I ask as I walk towards him, my brightest smile on my face.

"Yes Lady Lyanna?" he asks, a stupid grin on his face.

I move up close to him, my body pressed up against him, I see surprise and lust in his eyes, I reach up with my left hand to touch his face, bringing his head down and slowly turning my head slightly so that I can whisper in his ear. The stench of the two whores he had been busy fucking when I arrived is strong from his body, it makes my wolf growl at the back of my head. My right hand has snaked in between our bodies and into his trousers, as I suspected his cock is still wet from his most recent dalliances. Before he can react my hand grips one of his stones and squeezes tightly. Robert gasps in pain, hunching forwards slightly, the sudden drenching scent of fear coming off him in waves.

I hiss in his ear "Those two whores in you tent my love? Get rid of them NOW! And let me explain something to you Robert Baratheon! Until we take Kings Landing and the Targaryen's are deposed then, and only then, can we wed! In the meantime my love you will take no woman to bed, is that understood?"

"Ahhh, Ly, ahhh, please, ahhhhhh..."

I squeezed a little harder, tugging at him, pulling him more fully into me "I mean it Robert, if I catch you with another woman between now and then, the betrothal is OFF! And if I catch you with another woman after we are wed? I'll rip your fucking cock and balls off with my bare hands, got that?" I give his stone in my hand an extra squeeze and tug to emphasize my point.

"Ahhh, Gods, Lyanna, please, please..."

"From now on sweetling, Lady Palm and her five beautiful daughters will be your only solace until we wed, swear this to me Robert, swear it!"

"Oh Gods Ly, oaky, okay, I swear it, I swear it!"

"Good" I reply, releasing my hand suddenly to his relieved grunt. I move my head back a little to look into Robert's face, he looks confused, frightened and a little wounded, so I move my head forwards and give him a quick kiss, darting my tongue into his surprised mouth, before quickly retracting it and giving his lip a nip with my teeth, deep enough to draw blood.

"Owww!" Robert exclaims as I pull back, there is a little blood on my lips so I slowly lick it off with an unhurried, lascivious flick of my tongue.

"You taste good Robert" I purr, my eyes sparkling with amusement, his only response is a groan of repressed lust.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#129

After this there was the task of getting my retinue sorted and assigned somewhere to stable our horses and get tents for us, Ned and his banner men jumping to this task, scrounging up spare tents from other houses and staking out some space for us on the edge of the Stark contingent. I asked that someone find where Ser Roderik Wallance was camped so that I might escort his daughter to him.

"Lady Lyanna!" came a shout, I turned and spied Rodrick Cassel running towards me, he swept me up into his arms and gave me a fierce hug. "It's good to see you lass, we, we feared the worst..."

He stepped back to look at me, taking in my armor, my weapons, he raised an eyebrow "It looks like all those secret lesson paid off eh my Lady?"

Ned coughed at this, and he moved closer "Secret lessons? I should have known..." he gives Rodrick a hard stare.

"Where it not for the training I received from Rodrick I would have died along the way here countless times Ned!" Stop being a humorless fool brother, so it's a lie, but Rodrick did give me lessons on fighting when I was younger, and I did have the grace and balance to have been a decent fighter if needs be, all I was lacking then was strength, which I don't lack for now.

"I hear that you wish to see Ser Roderik Wallance?" asks Rodrick, "I know where his tents are in the Stormlands contingent, it would be an honor to escort you there!"

I nod in response, turning to Gerold and Elena "Let's go..."

We set off for the Stormlander section, passing along the divide between the tents of the Northern contingent and those of the Vale, I am recognized by a few of the Stark banner men and hailed, Rodrick walks beside me, four Stark guards ahead, then Elena and Gerold and then myself and Rodrick.

As we pass a wider avenue between the rows of tents that stretches off to our left there is a roaring commotion, but before I can turn my attention to it I hear a voice behind and to my right sneer "Gods what an arse, I'd fuck that till it was bloody!"

Ser Rodrick whirls around and is drawing his sword, I place my hand on his arm to stay him, turning my gaze to a group of Vale banner men, they are wearing the tabards of House Templeton.

I smile at them, the speaker is the smaller one in the middle, I take a few strides over to him, grabbing a handful of his Brigandine in my hand, lifting him up a few inches off the ground so that his legs dangle helplessly. My other hand whips out my knife and cuts open his trousers, its point rooting at the base of his cock.

"And just how would you 'fuck me bloody' when you have no cock sweetling?" I ask, nudging the knife a little deeper to emphasize my point.

"Ah, ahhh, I'm sorry, I, I..." fear and panic shone from his eyes, terror at the thought of what I could do, would probably do as he could see in my eyes.

"No, please..." he whimpered.

I give him a quick slash with my dagger, severing his pillar neatly, stepping away and releasing him to fall to the ground saying "Who is bloody now?" just as his wailing stated.

The man's crying was cut short when a giant of a man barreled out from our left and landed his ham sized fist into the face of the man I just cut, I hear bones crunch and break and the huge northerner swings his fists again and again, beating the man and any of his comrades that are not fast enough, or cleaver enough to run, into a bloody pulp.

I stand back and watch, , I unconsciously lick my lips in appreciation as my wolf likes the smell of blood and this display of wanton savagery, but which is over far too soon for her liking. Greatjon Umber turns to me, his fists bloody and he goes to one knee "My Lady Stark it is..."

"Oh for the Gods sake get up you great fool!" I laugh and the Greatjon leaps up, grabs me and tosses me up into the air in his joy at seeing me, I give a little yelp of excitement and I crash down into the Umbers arms for a crushing bear hug that would have squeezed the life out of me had I not had the strength of the wolf.

"Oh lass, you don't know how good it is to see you! When we heard that Rhaegar was dead, we feared that you were dead too..."

I could see tears in the corners of this great oafs eyes, behind him several of his banner men were advancing, giving menacing looks to any of the Vale men still stupid enough to be gawking at this scene. It felt good to be among northerners again, my people.

Greatjon puts me down and steps back, giving me a hard eye "You've changed lass...You, you're the 'Wolf at the Dawn?" he asks, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide in shock as he realizes who I am.

"Aye Greatjon Umber, I am the 'Wolf at the Dawn', for the blood of the First Men and the Direwolves of the Starks runs in my veins!"

"You must have some stories to tell me then lass!" he throws back his head and laughs.

"Aye Greatjon Umber, that I do, we will share a few flagons of ale and talk about it someday!" with that I give his side a backhanded slap, he is wearing his Brigandine and I pull my punch, but still he staggers a little bit, sudden surprise on his great, craggy face.

"I have business to attend to in the Stormlanders camp my Lord..."

"I will escort you my Lady, no offense Rodrick but I am not letting my Lady Stark out of my sight while we cross the encampment of these painted poofs from the Vale! Why with that get up on Lady Stark one of 'em might think she's a lad and try and bugger her!"

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#132

We reach the tents that belong to Ser Roderik Wallance without further incident, GreatJon Umber and a handful of his bannermen glowering at anyone who looked sideways at us helped in that regard.

There is a guard outside, who recognizes Elena and quickly lets us in, Elena, myself and Gerold stride into the tent.

"Father!" shouts Elena and she rushes the older man, who looks like Andrew would have looked had he lived to a few and forty years, my heart give a little wince of pain at the memory, opening that scar afresh.

The two embrace fiercely, then Ser Roderik pushes his daughter away and looks at me.

"I am Lady Lyanna Stark of Winterfell and I deliver your daughter Lady Elena Wallance back into your care as her father."

The knight goes to one knee "My Lady, I had heard that you had returned, but with my daughter?"

"Rise Ser Rickard, I escaped from my imprisonment in Dorne and in my travels I met your good Lady wife, she swore me with returning your daughter to you, and a Stark always keeps their word!"

"I, I had heard about the deaths of my wife and youngest son, I, had sent my eldest son back, what of him?" I can see hope in the man's eyes, but also a resignation, a fear.

My voice nearly breaks "You son fell in battle, he was killed by Ser Derion Duxford, but Derion the Black did not long live to enjoy his victory..."

The man nods in response; I can see he is trying by the greatest force of will to keep his face calm, to not let the tears come.

"His armor, his sword...his bones?" Asks Ser Rikard, his face now an iron mask.

"Lost, I am afraid..."

There is silence for a few moments; all that can be heard is Elena's quiet sobs.

"Lady Stark, may I, may I ask a question of you?" he says, his voice catching.

I nod my head in reply.

"Andrew, did he fight well? Did he fight nobly? My eldest was headstrong, impulsive sometimes..."

Elena turns and looks at me, I know what she is going to say so I beat her to it "Your son fought with more than the courage and honour of a knight Ser Rickard, more than you can ever know. He laid down his life for me, so that I might escape, no greater deed can a knight do..." It's a lie, but a necessary one, I cannot tell this man that his son was slowly butchered to death by a beast who enjoyed every last minute of it. Nor that I beat his son's killer to death with my bare hands, gleefully mutilating his corpse in the process.

"Thank you Lady Stark."

"The Houses that attacked your House and killed your family and smallfolk will be dealt with when Robert takes the Iron Throne, their maidens will be married off to smallfolk, their wives sent to the silent sisters and their men to the Wall. Their lands will revert to my Husband as King; however I will make sure that they are gifted to your Ser Wallance, this I swear to you!"

"Thank you Lady Stark, that is most generous" I can see that the man is pleased, but there is something else in his eyes, tiredness, sadness, regret; I can use this.

"Ser Wallance?"

"Yes Lady Stark?"

"I have a small company of sworn swords, recently knighted by Lord Robert Baratheon, they are good and true fighters, but they are not knights born, they would need a commander to train them, lead them, to teach them the ways of knighthood?"

The man nods his head slowly, but does not respond, so I continue.

"I am also in need of some Ladies in Waiting, your daughter Elena for one, if you would permit?"

He nods his head in agreement "Of course Lady Stark!"

"When I am Queen, her prospects of an advantageous marriage will be greatly increased, do you not agree?"

"I do my Lady."

"And your new lands, they will have been devastated by war; it will take several years for them to be rebuilt, to be fully productive again. Their new size also would be more suitable to a Minor Lord than a Landed Knight, House Wallance will be thus elevated...I am sure my betrothed would see this the same way. And why not assign stewards to the burdensome task of repairing your new lands? While you and your daughter can stay in Kings Landing, she as one of my Ladies in Waiting and you as the commander of my sworn swords? Once your lands are returned to full health and your daughter wed, you can return there to rule, passing it on to your future Goodson in turn...?"

"My Lady, that, that is a most, most generous offer..."

"Please Ser Rickard, do not thank me, it is only fair for the Leal service that you have done your Lord Paramount. Take the time to consider my offer Ser Rickard; I will make no entreaties upon how long you wish to judge my proposal. I will leave you now Ser Rickard, for I do not wish to intrude further upon this moment of grief for you and your family."

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#134

Outside we retrace our steps to the Stark encampment, a messenger greets us, tents have been set up for us, and space set aside for our horses, there is still the problem of my wolves though, I decide that I will have to deal with it personally. Reaching the tents that have been assigned to me I see Taria is directing operations, I turn to Gerold and say "I want Taria to be one of my Ladies in Waiting."

"Yes my Lady" he responds, his voice sounds far away.

"Come now Gerold, it is not every day that a man gets knighted and then weds! You should be happy!" I smirk at him, he responds by giving me his best raised eyebrow look.

I inspect our area, the tents are large, there is a mish-mash of furnishings in mine, it will do. There is one tent that has nothing inside, and is not claimed, it is right beside mine, that gives me an idea.

Rodrick Cassel is still beside me, I turn to him and ask " Rodrick, my new knights and ladies in waiting are in need of some clothing more appropriate to their standing, can you have the Sutler's, Tailors and armorers that travel with this army attend to me?"

"At once Lady Stark" he responds and leaves, hurrying off.

"Unless you want me to try and fit you for a dress Greatjon Umber, I think we will take our leave of you now!" I arch an eyebrow at the giant by my side.

Greatjon and his men give a huge guffaw at this jape "Ah lass, it is good to have you back, and you've lost none of your spunk!"

You do not know the half of it Greatjon Umber I think to myself.

I return to the cleared area outside Robert's tent, Creene, now Ser Creene of House Smithson is standing somewhat forlorn looking, while my pack is lounging around, oblivious to the stares of everyone who passes.

The pack picks up at my approach and they follow me back through the encampment, to looks of amazement and the odd shriek of terror at the sight of a wolf pack trotting serenely through the midst of an Army camp.

Our tents are on the edge of the encampment, there is a forest a few hundred feet away, which stretches away up the slopes of the hills behind us. I tell the pack that this is where they can sleep, and that they can hunt in the forest behind. My pack don't like the smell of this tent, they say it smells of rotten cow and too many humans, and that the whole encampment smells too strongly of 'man and shit'.

I cannot argue with them, and they decide to take off into the forest, they will hunt and sleep there, leaving two wolves to sit outside my tent at all times. It's a fair bargain I agree and the bulk of the pack takes off, something is nagging at my mind though.

"The guards will shoot them my lady, if we are not careful, not many lads will take too kindly to wolves just trotting around the camp, even if they do belong to you" says Gerold.

"Yes, I will have jackets made up for them with the Stark Sigil on them, that way nobody can claim not to know who they are!"

I spend the next half an hour or so overseeing my people get settled until the sutlers, tailors and armorers arrive. The next two hours are spent reviewing what is on offer, having some items custom made, and haggling over the price. My knights will be equipped with a Barbute helm, a Gorget, a long sleeved Hauberk and Pauldrons, not as effective as plate I know but more flexible, cheaper and available sooner as I have been able to commandeer almost all the available blacksmiths and armorersto work on it, once word gets out that I have gold to spend.

I order for myself a set of gauntlets with reinforced knuckles and set with small spikes, a gorget especially sized to my shape, and to have my sigil in raised steel upon it and I hand over the close helm that had been crudely shaped into a wolfs head to be modified into a more suitable looking helmet. After all a girl has to look her best when she goes to war, no?

We also purchase a selection of nice swords, I pick up several smaller ones, I am a tad hard on swords I find, my Falkata has so far stood up to the abuse I have put it through, a testament to the good steel it is made of. Now if only I could get my paws on a Valyrian steel sword I would be sorted...

All of my people get several changes of clothes, from your standard working clothes to some rather nice clothes for my knights; I also purchase boiled leather Brigandines for all of them for 'casual' attire.

Taria and I then spend some 'girl time' picking out the best of ladies attire that is available, it's not that much but with some quick modifications and additions I get Taria and myself some dresses. I have my older clothes still with me, they don't really fit me right anymore, so I have them sent away to be modified.

Taria and I are rooting through some garments with a dressmaker and her assistant, looking for dress to wear to tonight's feast. It's the usual complaint of women everywhere, the clothes that I like don't fit me and the ones that I don't like fit me fine. It's getting late and I need something to wear, something to make sure that Robert's eyes stay firmly on me, that orange and golden dress would be perfect, only that its a tad too big,

With some tucking and stitching here and there the dress is modified to my fit and shape, it actually is very, very snug now, its cut pushing up my breasts. I twirl in front of the mirror, its looks very good, and even that perennial complaint of bum size is addressed very satisfactorily. I don't however like the sleeves, they are the usual long and wide style, they hamper my arms too much, it's already making me nervous that I won't be able to wear my sword belt, in this dress I don't even have room to put a dagger anywhere. Maybe hidden in these dammed sleeves? No, I hate them, I order the dressmaker to remove them, leaving my arms bare, but there is much clucking and murmuring from the dressmaker and her assistant at this, I am about to lose my temper with them when they pull out some beautiful golden lace and start a fierce whispering, I can hear what they are saying but I cannot understand a word of it, it must be all dressmaking terms that they are using.

They approach me and fit a band of the material around my waist, then slide it upwards, to something that they say is called an 'Empire Line', it turns my already impressive décolletage into something spectacular to behold. I smile at myself in the mirror; Robert will not be able to take his eyes off me. The dressmaker quickly fashion the rest of the golden lace into two narrow sleeves that reach down to just above my elbows, that's much better than the old voluminous sleeves that the dress came with.

With that agreed upon and with some last minute adjustments to my dress the dressmakers leave, I have shed the dress, they promise to be back in very soon with the dress properly sewn up. A serving boy arrives with several buckets of boiling water; Taria goes to fetch the copper basin that does duty as a 'bath'.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#137

I am naked and I shake my hair loose, I had it up in a rough bun on my head for the dress fittings.

"I will do your hair my Lady" says Taria, I smile at her "No need for such formality in private Taria" I chuckle, stepping into the basin while Taria mixes the boiling water with some cold water, before pouring it over me, starting at my chest.

We lock eyes, I reach out a hand and place it on the swell in her tummy, she is about five months pregnant, I close my eyes and concentrate, there, just below her heartbeat, there is another one, faint, but strong and regular. I take a deep breath, sorting through the scents that I can smell, can I be certain? Yes..."You will have a boy Taria, or should I say Lady Taria?" I laugh softly.

"Are, are you sure?" she asks, her eyes wide in amazement.

"Yes, you will give Gerold an heir for House Blackwolf, an auspicious beginning for you and your House."

Taria smiles at that, if a little wistfully. I move my hand from her belly to cup the side of her face "You can tell me sweetling, you know you can always tell me anything, I will never hurt you..."

"I am to be married...you, me...us..."

"And? I am to be married also, if you want us to resume being...intimate, I have no objections to it, and that big oaf of a betrothed of mine need never find out, and if he does, well I'm sure he might even like to watch..."

Taria's eyes go wide in shock at this, her cheeks blushing a deep red; I give a throaty chuckle at her reaction. "My dear future husband has a roving eye, and a roving cock to match, he has fathered a few bastards in his time, that's one of the reasons why all this" I gesture to the tent with my arm, indicating the Army, the war, everything "happened in the first place. I hope that I will be enough to fulfil his desires but I suspect that even I will not be enough!"

Taria gives a snort of laughter at that "Then he is a fool!" she says, looking at me seriously.

"All men are fools" I reply leaning forwards, our lips touching, opening, our tongues languidly sliding and twirling in our mouths. I break the kiss after a minute or so, no sense in it getting any more heated, and we have a wedding and a feast to go to after all.

"Given your former profession Lady Taria, I think that maybe introducing some additional 'bedmates' for myself and Lord Baratheon might alleviate his tendency to get bored, and I will be in need of someone discrete to help me with this delicate matter?"

Taria goes an even deeper shade of red if that's possible, she really is adorable! I only hope that Gerold knows what a gem he has here, word better never reach my ears of him disrespecting or mistreating her...

"You, you want me to join you, and, and Lord Robert?"

I place my hand on her chin and lift her face to mine "Only if you want to, I was thinking more along the lines of ladies who adhere to you previous occupation?"

"Oh!"

"Oh indeed" I smile "Anyways that is for the future, we must hurry, you need to bathe also and get dressed, it is after all your wedding day!"

Taria lathers me and washes my hair and body, she is of course paying just that little bit too much of attention to my breasts as she washes away the suds and rinses me down, when my brother Ned strides into the tent.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#139

He immediately stops, frozen and open mouthed, his eyes drop and his face flushes, he is about to mumble something and back out when I call out "Oh for the love of the Old Gods Ned! Stop, you are a married man, it's not like you have never seen a naked woman before now is it?"

Ned, bless his heart, is mumbling something and looking from side to side with his head lowered, probably mumbling an apology and trying to make his exit.

"Ned! My eyes are here, you can look at me Ned, you can look into my eyes?"

His head snaps up, good, that's better.

"Now? Is that so bad?"

"Lyanna...stop teasing..." he says, anguished "I brought you your cloak; you might want to wear it."

He has a bundle in his arms, it's the traditional Stark cloak trimmed at the collar and shoulder with wolf fur. I give it a hard stare, part of me relishes putting it back on, resuming fully my previous identity, but the other part of me does not like it. I am not Lyanna Stark anymore; at least I am not the Lyanna Stark that these people remember. And the thought of having the fur of one of my cousins around my neck makes me, uncomfortable...I wore my wolf cloak back when I revealed myself to my little band, but have not worn it since. I suppose that I will have to wear it on occasion from now on, luckily with me probably spending the bulk of my life in Kings Landing and a long summer predicted I should only have to wear my Stark wolf furs sparingly.

"Thank you Ned, you will join us for the wedding of Lady Taria and Ser Gerold?"

"I will sister; would you do me the honor of accompanying me?"

"I will of course brother; Robert wants to stand in for Taria's father I believe."

"Aye, that he does...Sister..."

"Yes Ned?"

"You, you, you are different to the girl I last saw at Harrnehall..."

I step out of the basin and onto the wooden floor of the tent, Taria hands me a robe which I put on, at which Ned breaths a very visible sigh of relief. This again? Well I suppose Ned has had time to think more on the matter.

"Aye Ned, I am different" and you will hopefully never know the half of it brother...

"No, it is more Lyanna, it is like you are a completely different person, like I do not know you anymore..."

Uh oh, trouble, well time to quash this right now, if I can.

"War changes people Ned, you know that, I was a girl when you last saw me, a silly girl who caused a war that has cost how many hundreds of thousands of lives? Who caused Father's and Brandon's deaths! How do you think this makes me feel Ned! How do you think it feels to wake up every fucking morning and know that all the death, all the destruction, all the dead fucking babies you see at the side of the road are YOUR FAULT!" I shout at Ned, angrily tapping my chest.

"Lyanna, Rhaegar..."

"Rhaegar what? Kidnapped me, yes, but do you know how he kidnapped me?" thankfully the only people who knew the truth were me or were dead, even if there were rumors I was confident that once wed to Robert anyone peddling those would get short shrift, and if not, well, there was always claw and tooth to permanently shut up any tattletales.

"I thought all he wanted was my maidenhead, which I was willing to give him! And you can blame that on Robert and his habit for siring bastards! While we are on that subject, how many bastards has my betrothed sired so far eh Ned? Two, three, four?"

Ned says nothing, dropping his head, refusing to meet my eyes.

"Look at me Ned!" I growl, his head comes up, his grey eyes meet my blue grey ones.

"I gave my maidenhead to Rhaegar, willingly, to spite Robert! But that Dragon bastard did not just want that, oh no! He was obsessed with some dammed prophecy, 'The Song of Ice and Fire' said he needed a 'third head for his Dragons' or some such nonsense. He drugged me Ned, after he had fucked me, and spirited me away to Dorne, I remember very little of the journey, it passed with me in a daze, drugged all the time. Once there they stopped drugging me and the raping started..."

Ned's face twists into a mask of hatred, his right hand goes to the pommel of his sword, his left balls into a fist.

"Rhaegar Targaryen pumped his bastard into me Ned, but I miscarried, thank the Old Gods! And then I escaped, and now I am here..."

Silence hangs in the air, the tension having not abated "There are, some, who are saying that you, you are damaged Lyanna, soiled goods as it where..." Ned says with a helpless shrug of his shoulders.

"Let me guess, these 'some' are being led by a Lord of the Vale with breath that stinks like a privy after you shit a dose of the bloody flux into it?"

"Lyanna, please..."

"Well what do you think Ned? Am I 'damaged goods', am I no longer 'good enough' for Robert 'I fall into any moist cunny' Baratheon!"

"I, Lyanna, I don't know..."

"You DON'T KNOW?! Well thanks a bunch Ned, thank you for a great big fucking NOTHING!"

"Lyanna..."

"NO! You listen to me Eddard Stark! And you listen to me this one time, because I'm not repeating this! You tell Robert this from me, and go tell him RIGHT FUCKING NOW, along with JON FUCKING ARRYN! If Robert does not want me, if Jon Arryn thinks I'm somehow not good enough for that wine soaked erection of a best friend of yours who thinks it's perfectly acceptable to father a slew of bastards then I'm OUT OF HERE! GONE! VANISHED! I'll head off to Esssos and spend the rest of my days as a Sellsword, and the rest of you can deal with Robert Baratheon on your own! I will never set foot willingly in Westeros again! Winterfell? I'll never go back; you won't even get my bones to bury in the crypt! Am I making myself clear LORD STARK?"

I am trembling with rage by the end of my speech, Ned looks hurt and confused by this outburst, but to the hells with it, if those stupid Andal's and their obsession with maidenhood want to make an issue of this, fine! Fuck them then, fuck the lot of them, oh and I might just be tempted to leave a parting gift for them, a couple of smashed and torn bodies, starting with Jon Arryn!

"And if I stay Ned? If Robert decides that I am actually 'good enough' for him? If Jon Arryn can overcome the stench of spoiled fruit from me?"

"Yes?" Ned says in reply, his voice soft.

"Then if I hear anybody, and I mean ANYBODY disrespect me, allude to my status as a 'fallen woman' or any such nonsense, I will take their head personally! And damm the consequences Ned! You make sure Jon Arryn knows that Ned, make sure you oh so honorable 'father' is under no illusions as to where I stand?"

"Lyanna, why do you have to be so, so difficult...your, your wolves..."

"What of them Ned?"

"Are, are you a warg?"

"No, I am not a skinchanger" I almost choke on that lie, I actually am a skinchanger, just not how my brother understands the term. Oh and 'fuck you Ned' I'm not being difficult, I'm just being 'me', you know, the 'me' that can kill all of you with nary a thought, the 'me' who can transform into a shape out of nightmare and reave and slaughter a bloody swath through Westeros.

"It still smacks of magic, of dark arts..."

"And what of it? We are First Men! The Blood of the Direwolf runs strong in us Starks, is it not then likely that we have an affinity for the lesser cousins of those great beasts?"

"The Faith of the Seven will not like it, Lyanna!"

"A POX on the Seven Ned! I prayed to the Seven every day to rescue me, to take away the pain, to deliver me from the rapist and the Knights who held me down as I pleaded with them not to. The Seven never answered Ned! I prayed to the Old Gods to give me the strength to do what I had to do to escape and to survive, and I am here standing before you!"

"You will be Queen Lyanna, you will live in Kings Landing, not in the North, you and your wolves? People will mutter about pagan magic! It will tar Robert's reign, it will cast doubts, people will whisper about Robert's Northern witch and how she has cast a spell over him!"

For a man Ned can be quite insightful, sometimes...

"Wolves do not care for the opinions of sheep" I growl at Ned, my eyes slitting.

Ned just looks at me with pleading eyes.

"I will not be some simpering little southron Princess Ned! I am a Stark of Winterfell!"

"You are more that that sister... We hear these tales of the 'Wolf and the Dawn', how she is a great fighter, and a powerful warrior, how she harried the Targaryen army mercilessly from Kings Landing to the Battle of the Green Fields and then cut down hundreds of fleeing Targaryen troops! That is not the little girl I remember! And you killed that Vale man-at-arms today, over what? A petty insult?"

"A 'petty insult' Ned? Who told you that? Jon Arryn? Do you know what he said to me Ned? He said as I passed 'Gods what an arse, I'd fuck that till it was bloody!' Is that a 'petty insult' Ned? Would you have done nothing? Not defended your sister's honor? Rodrick Cassel certainly thought that it was an insult, so did Greatjon Umber, who beat the cretin to death for that insult! So Ned, I'm waiting, would you have killed him for that 'insult'? Or is it acceptable to insult me because I'm now 'damaged goods', little better than a whore? WELL NED?"

"No Lyanna, of course not, its, it's just..."

"It's just WHAT EXACTLY NED? He got what he deserved! Fuck him and fuck anyone who thinks that they can make cheap japes at my expense!" I shout back, anger blazing in my eyes "You were not kidnapped Ned! You were not held down and raped, and raped, again and again! You were not helpless, abandoned, without power! I was! And now I have strength Ned! And power Ned! And I will NEVER BE HELPLESS AGAIN!"

"Sister, please, that sort of thinking helped to start this war in the first place, please. You are a Stark; we don't kill offhand, only for a reason, and only with respect for the laws and the customs of the North! The man was of the Vale, you should have let Lord Arryn take care of it. What if he had of been a knight, or the son of a Lord? What then?"

"I would have demanded a trial by combat, and I would have fought myself!" I stamp my foot down, glaring at Ned, anger filling my body "You have spent too long among southerners Ned, far too long, the sooner you get back North the better brother."

Ned shakes his head "what happened to my little sister...?" he almost whispers.

"She died Ned, in a bed of blood, with nobody to care for her, with nobody to rescue her, while Westeros burned because of her stupidity" I reply in a hard, flat tone.

I let the silence drag out, Ned seems heartbroken, bereft "War changes people Ned, in here" I gesture to my head "and in here" I point at my body "tell me you have not been changed by this war?" I reply softly.

"Aye sis" he whispers in response.

I walk up to him, I enfold him in my arms, he places his arms around me and he kisses my water damp hair.

"I'm sorry Lyanna, its, just, all, so..."

"I know brother, you never expected to be the Stark in Winterfell, this war has taken so much from all of us, it will soon end though, the Targaryen's are finished. I will marry Robert, you can return North and take your Tully bride back to Winterfell, and myself and Robert will rule the seven kingdoms wisely."

"You mean Robert and you will rule?" he asks, questioning.

"That's what I meant Ned."

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#145

Ned leaves after this and Taria and I swap places, I bathe her despite her protests, I am fascinated by the soft curves of her pregnancy, by her larger breasts, she looks like some fertility goddess that should be worshiped. She is soon washed and dried and I help her dresses, a few minutes later my altered dress arrives and I put it on, the fit is perfect and the dressmakers are happy, as am I. Taria then has me sit down so that she can do up my hair, an couple of long plaits at the side and around the back to take my hair up and off my face. I then get her to sit and I do her hair, she wants something similar but as I was never very good at this sort of thing it is taking me a couple of tires to get it right.

I have put on the Stark necklace that Father gave me as a present for my betrothal to Robert Baratheon, it has a gold pendant with the Stark sigil on it and with rubies for eyes. I adjust it to hang just right, I want it to hang in my cleavage and attract attention, not that I won't attract attention in this gown, but then I want the attention of a certain rampant stag to be on me and me alone.

We are finally ready and decide to have a glass of wine, Taria looks beautiful, radiant, her eyes are shining in the candle light. I am happy for her, for all of the people that I have managed to drag along on my little adventure, then I turn sad, not all of us made it here. I lift my cup in silent toast to my fallen comrades when in barges Robert Baratheon, closely followed by Ned.

He pulls up short when he sees me, I rise and give him a curtsy "My Lord."

Something strangled comes out of Robert's mouth, it could have been anything, his eyes are fixated on me, he is drinking me in, devouring me with his eyes. I place a hand on my hip and tilt my head to one side, a coquettish pout on my mouth; I decide to torture him just that little bit more, a let my scent change to desire, want, need...

Robert stumbles forwards a bit, almost like he is off balance, one of his hands drifts to his groin, he has obviously got an erection and is trying to hide it.

"Would my betrothed care for some wine?" I ask in an innocent voice "You seem and little dry throated my love..."

"Wine! Always a good idea!" gasps Robert, seemingly glad to be free of the spell that had rendered him speechless. I notice that his face is flushed; he's been in his cups already...well that is another thing that is going to have to change...

Robert pours himself and large cup and quaffs it back, smacking his lips "Right! That groom of yours Lady Taria in waiting in the Sept like an ox waiting to be butchered, shall we go ladies?"

He sticks out his arm for Taria, who takes it, Robert being Robert of course tries to take a bit of extra liberty, putting his other hand on her belly I see him moving it to cop a feel of a breast.

"Robert!" I exclaim.

He notices where is hand is moving, as if it's under its own volition and gives a hearty guffaw before composing himself and leading Taria out of the tent and into the early evening twilight. Ned crocks his arm for me to take and we follow them out. I wonder if Ned has had 'the talk' with Robert and Jon Arryn yet, if he has Robert seems to be acting blithely unconcerned.

There are Stark and Baratheon banner men outside, and four of my new knights, looking spruced up their fresh clothes. We proceed to the Sept that is located in the Tully encampment.

It's a very small Sept, a mobile one designed to be broken down and moved in four wagon loads, inside it is a proper miniature Sept, with wooden statues of the seven and instead of stained glass, coloured oil paper to cover the windows.

Its tiny inside, barely thirty people can fit in the Sept, but this is not an overly large wedding party.

And with the Septon Gerold is waiting, looking very, very nervous.

Robert laughs at this and bellows out "What's wrong Lad, you've already done all the good work!"

I wince inside, that bloody oaf! His mouth is even more undiscriminating that his bloody loins!

And of course Robert has to go one step further; he just has to doesn't he? As he hands Taria over to Gerold with a demure kiss on the cheek for Gerold to place his cloak around her shoulders he gives Taria a good, hard smack on her rump, making her jump and let out a little yelp. Robert beams like he has just heard the funniest joke in all of Westeros, I on the other hand slit my eyes and glare at him, quickly wiping the smile off his face.

The Septon is rather nervous, so much High Born around he is obviously not used to, and he fluffs his lines a few times, much to Robert's annoyance, who mutters "I know the dammed words better than this fool!" For once I have to agree with Robert, I give him a smile when he glances nervously over at me.

Once the ceremony is done congratulations are exchanged and we stroll to the feasting tent, from which delicious scents are emanating, making my mouth water. I have exchanged Ned's arm for Robert's and the Stag is as proud as punch to have me on his arm.

"Remind me not to have that Septon officiate at our wedding my love" I laugh.

"Does that mean, do you..." Robert gasps, his eyes lighting up like wildfire.

Crushing his hopes will be so worth it "No my Love, you will be King and I will be Queen, only the High Septon in Kings Landing could marry us properly in the eyes of the Seven..." Ah, it is just so delicious to see the crestfallen expression on Roberts face. Of course I will be insisting on a ceremony in the Red Keep's Godswood afterwards, no need to let anyone know about that just yet.

"My Lady!" I hear Gerold from behind me.

I disengage from Robert's arm and turn around "Yes Ser Gerold?" I ask.

"Me and my wife" I notice Taria smile at the new word "You, you are a follower of the Old Gods, we would like to honor you by also being wed in the eye's of your Gods, by saying your words in a Godswood."

I glance at Ned, who says "Ser Gerold, I and my sister would be honored to hear you say the words in a Godswood. We shall do so tomorrow, there is a small Godswood not an hour's ride from here."

I run up and embrace Taria, squeezing her, I give Gerold a peck on the cheek "I'm so happy for you!" I say, genuinely happy for both of them, and especially delighted that they have chosen to honor the Old Gods.

The Hour of the Wolf - An ASOIAF AU featuring Werewolves, Eldritch Horrors and Canals...

And They Shall Reap the Whirlwind - A very different RAF Bomber Command

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#146

The feast is being held in a large tent, big enough to hold several hundred revelers. I sit at Robert's right hand; he is treating me with excessive courtesy and is trying to project an image of sobriety and regal honor. What Robert cannot do is resist sneaking glances at my chest, of course I catch him at this several times, the smoldering glares I give back to him make him start sweating profusely. To slake his thirst he is drinking ale and after about three tankards of ale the Robert Baratheon that everybody knows and loves emerges in full song. He is at a feast and he is the center of attention, and is as happy as a pig in shit as they say up north. And Robert is not the only one sneaking glances my direction, quite a few younger Knights and Lords, and a few older ones are sending covetous glances my way.

By far the worst in this regard is that lecherous toad Walder Frey, him and some of his spawn are here, they apparently arrived just in time for the Battle of the Green Fields and Robert gave them the 'honor' of being in the vanguard for the battle. I can feel his eyes on me, mentally undressing me, on more than one occasion I can see him actually licking his lips as he looks at me. I pick up my tankard and take a long sip, he is an old man, maybe his heart is not so good, a terrible fright, why that might kill him? Or if not that my claws can rip his black heart right out of his chest! I smile at that thought, I lift my cup in the direction of Walder Frey, saluting him, and he returns the salute with his own cup.

The most interesting one giving me eyes in the Blackfish, Brynden Tully. He is not a bad looking specimen for a Tully fish, and he definitely has it bad for me...hrmmm. I hear he has quite the reputation with the ladies, not quite as notorious as my dearly betrothed, but still something of a rake.

The newly knighted Ser Gerold is seated at the high table, as is Taria, as this feast is both their wedding feast and a feast to celebrate my safe return. Of course that fucker Jon Arryn had made a bit of a fuss about Robert insisting that Gerold and Taria sit at the high table. The Lord of the Vale was even more distressed when Robert announced that being a mere Knight was not good enough for Gerold, the man who had 'saved' his Lyanna deserved much more, and that he would take land from Loyalist Houses in the Crownlands and give it to Gerold and elevate him to a Minor Lord. Gerold quailed at this; he looked like a poor animal caught in a poachers trap. Robert seemed to have taken an inordinate liking to Gerold, I hoped it was not just a passing fancy, I did want the two of them to get on well with each other, it would make certain of my plans so much easier...

The food was mainly roasted meat; Boar, Venison, Pig and Beef, served on trenchers of bread and with an accompaniment of a thick vegetable stew. I eat heartily of everything that is put in front of me, drinking ale, much to Ned's surprise, even matching Robert in how fast I can gulp down a tankard of ale. He roars his approval when I beat him, slapping the table with the flat of his hand and shouting "She's some lass your sister Ned, God's she is a fine Lass! No wonder you northerners rarely leave your winter lands, with women like this to warm your beds I'd never leave either!"

Roars of approval from the northern contingent greet this outburst by Robert, he looks at me, as if seeking my approval, oh Gods, the smitten fool is making puppy dog eyes at me!

"Northern women have fire in their blood my Lord, any Northern man knows we are not to be trifled with!" I reply, to more shouts of approval, Robert nods and seems to have completely missed the little threat in my retort; he is too busy roaring at some minor Lord, recounting some skirmish that they fought in together.

As the food in finished and is cleared away the real drinking begins, arm wrestling matches break out, Greatjon Umber winning all his contests easily. My knights are seated among the northern contingent, mingled in with the men of the Starks and the Umbers, Hendrik seems the most at ease, the rest of them are still rather overawed by the whole thing. I catch Roose Bolton giving my men a cool appraisal, interesting...there was a long history of bad blood between the Bolton's and the Stark's, and the current Lord Bolton had a reputation as being a rather bloodless character, but someone who was not to be underestimated. He was rumored to have a good head on his shoulders for politics and the rather shadier arts of ruling, I would be keeping an eye on him...

The tent becomes increasingly raucous and rowdy, Gerold rises and asks Robert for permission to leave and escort his wife to her bed. Given that Taria is obviously pregnant there has thankfully been no call for a bedding ceremony and Robert stands up, walks over to Gerold and grabs him in a bear hug, slapping his back and them demurely kissing Taria's cheek before the couple depart the tent. Well at least he did not make a grab for her arse I muse.

Jon Arryn clears his throat and suggests that perhaps I would also like to depart and take my leave of the celebrations, before they got too much for a Lady's delicate sensibilities.

My eyes narrow to slits at this suggestion from the Lord of the Vale, bloody Andal's and their ideas of what women are! Of course his comment is also a trap, if I stay I admit that I am 'no lady'...To hell with Jon Arryn, that's the second time he has disrespected me tonight, third time and the claws will come out!

Robert glances over at me as I grab the mug of ale, gulp it down, give a thunderous belch in response and shout over the growing din "Fuck that for a game of soldiers! Are we going to drink and celebrate or are we going to retire to our beds like a bunch of fucking Septons!"

Robert throws back his head and bellows out a laugh, looking at Ned, who looks a little crestfallen "She's your sister Ned! And she's a damm fine woman! If she wants to drink with us, I say let her, any women that can kill Rhaegar Targaryen and his Kingsguard is good enough to drink with me any day of the week!"

Roars of approval greet this, most vocally from the Northern contingent, followed by the Stormlanders, the least vocal were the Knights of the Vale. I noticed that the Blackfish was looking at me with a mix of fascination and hopeless longing, several others just stared at me open mouthed.

"Tell us how you killed that poof of a southern Prince!" roared Greatjon Umber, staggering to his feet, waving his tankard, slopping ale all over the place. "Tell us lass, how you killed him and his bunch of bum bandit so called fucking knights!" Greatjon swayed again, steadied himself and then roared "Wench! More ale, and look lively about it!" With that he crashed down into his chair, the tent having gone silent, the only sounds being of men adjusting themselves in their seats, intent on hearing this story.

Robert looked at me, as did Ned, I could see interest in Robert's eyes, wariness in Ned's and a rather cool disdain in Jon Arryn's.

I had not intended to tell this little lie in quite this fashion, but no time like the present I suppose.

"Rhaegar had pumped his bastard into me and they were waiting until his bastard was born before he would return to Kings Landing, but I sickened rapidly, and so they went and procured some medicines for me, including Milk of the Poppy. But Rhaegar's seed was weak, impure, my body rejected his spawn and I miscarried his bastard, born dead and deformed from his inbreed Targaryen blood."

You could have heard an insect climb the walls of the tent now.

"A few days after, when I was strong enough I arose from my bed, Rhaegar and his knights were all drinking, they had ignored me after the miscarriage and had not fed me for several days, I pleaded to be allowed to fetch some food, they stupidly allowed me to do this without one of the drunken fools watching me. I secreted a knife on my person, and saw the bottle of Milk of the Poppy left on a shelf; I opened it and dripped its contents into a jug of wine. I then took some bread and cheese and returned to my room. After a few hours the sounds of carousing from below ended and I heard a body thump to the floor. I went downstairs; all of them were slumped, dead drunk, the Milk of the Poppy having done its work, only Rhaegar appeared to be trying to move. I took my knife out and slit the throats to the bone of Oswell Whent, Gerold Hightower and Arthur Dayne, my knife was none too sharp mind you so it took quite a bit of effort to cut them. And thus died gurgling and frothing in their own blood those so called knights who had held me down as I cried and pleaded with them, as that Bastard Rhaegar Targaryen raped me!"

A sea of faces looked at me, many of them pale, Robert nodded at me to continue, his face flushed and his hands making fists so hard that his knuckles cracked like thunder.

"Then I turned to Rhaegar, who was still conscious, and who had seen what I had done, I advanced on him and he put his hands up, to ward me off. But I was not interested in cutting his throat, instead I pulled down his trousers and cut off his tiny little cock and balls, grabbed the pathetic, bloody mess that I hesitate to call a manhood, and shoved it in his fucking mouth for him to choke on!"

Stunned silence greets the end of my story, the silence stretches for a second, two seconds, before Greatjon Umber roars out a thunderous laugh, staggers to his feet and bellows "And you will be bedding her Robert! She's a true lass of the North, a Wolf Bitch if I ever saw one!"

I hide a little smile; you do not know how true your words are Greatjon Umber!

Greatjon Umber starts to pound the table, shouting 'Lyanna! Lyanna! Lyanna! His banner men quickly take up the chant, it soon gets mixed in with shouts of 'Stark!', 'Wolf Queen!'

I stand up, taking my mug and raise it above my head, before plunging it downwards with all my strength into the table in front of me, it shatters into many pieces with a mighty bang, the sound bringing an abrupt end to the shouting.

"Do not acclaim me!" I shout at the top of my voice, I throw a hand out to my side pointing at Robert "Acclaim this man, my betrothed who will be our new King! Hail Robert Baratheon, First of his Name!"

The tent dissolves into wild cheering, men pulling out their swords and daggers and waving them in the air, Robert Stands for their acclimation, he leans forwards on the table, resting his hands flat, until the raucous chanting dies down.

"I'll drink to that!" he shouts, and upends his cup, a serving girl hands me a new cup and fills it with ale, she also refills Robert's cup. I lift my cup to my mouth and take a demure sip, Robert then sits back down and the usual hubbub of several hundred men drinking and boasting resumes.

Robert smiles and whispers to me over the din "Did Rhaegar really have a tiny cock?" as he lifts his refilled cup to his lips.

I lean closer to Robert, putting one of my hands into his lap, confirming that he indeed has an erection. My tiny hand rests on the impressive bulge in his trousers, and I put my lips close to his ear "His pillar when rampant was the size of my little finger, his stones the size of olives!"

Robert bursts out laughing, spewing ale all down his front; he throws back his head and shakes with mirth. When he calms down I move my lips closer, giving his ear a quick lick with my tongue, eliciting a shiver and a groan from him, my hand in his lap gives him a squeeze "Rest assured my love that you are vastly superior in that measure as a man!"

The smug grin on Roberts face confirms all I need to know.

"Well if his cock was so small, how could he choke on it then?" asks Robert, grinning.

"A good point sweetling" I purr, giving the flesh of his ear a nip with my sharp teeth "he bled to death from his severed bits, much slower and in much more agony than his Kingsguard, and I watched him, staring into that fuckers eyes until he died..." I give Robert's manhood another squeeze "I'm sure that I, on the other hand, will be choking on your big cock, soon enough..."

Robert's eyes go wide at this, a groan escapes his lips "Oh Gods Lyanna, please..."

"Ah no, you will have to visit Lady Palm and her five beautiful daughters if you want relief, remember what I said, not until you put that cloak over my shoulders in Kings Landing do you get to sink your mighty war hammer into female flesh..."