(The Grove: 1/22/299) Jun I
"We are at the Twins now, father. What would the Fire Lord command of us?" she supplied in a hushed tone, her mind elsewhere in the flames, and the visions she would now always see therein.
Assuming the lotus position, and seated across from her, clothed in scarlet robes trimmed in gold, was her father. He narrowed his eyes, at her words, almost as if he suspected her inner turmoil. "Her orders have not yet changed. Make for the Westerlands as quickly as you can. The comet nears. I can feel it."
"As can I," she replied, feeling stronger as the day approached, despite the ill nature her visions would cause upon her mind. "I will speak with the Princess and the Northmen," Jun presented palm-over-fist, until her father spoke once more.
"Before you go," he said, motioning to her, and shifting slightly beneath scarlet robes. "I can sense a storm brewing within your spirit, Jun. I see it in your eyes. I felt it in your words. Tell me, what troubles you? Surely not the boy?" a faint smile formed on her father's weathered face.
"Heh," she chuckled at the mundane notion, which flew in the face what truly distressed her. "Jon has been the picture of propriety, loyalty, and handsomeness, father. He is not something I worry about. He gives me strength."
"Then what is it? You know that I am always here for you," her father reached over from his seat opposite her, within the grove, and placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder. The orange glow of the burning tree illuminated only them within the serene gloom.
Turning from her father's warm golden eyes, she stared at the inflamed sapling resting at the center of their spirit island. The faint crackling of burning wood adding a comfortable distraction from the deepening dark, "Ever since our departure from Winterfell," she paused, shaking her head. "No, even before then. Remember the visions of fire?" Jun faced her father once more, seeing the reflection of the tree within his eyes. "The ones mother would always speak of?"
"I do," he nodded, his face having taken a sudden guarded expression.
"I had never truly seen things as she had, but ever since the Fire Lord's encounter with the Other? They have not ceased. The visions. I keep seeing them every time I close my eyes for too long…" she wrung her hands, shivering slightly, even beneath the warmth of the tree. "I've seen a great battle in the snow. A woman in red with hair made of fire. An armored man with shark-teeth and seaweed hair. A white-haired girl with a blood-stained chest and an eye made of swirling night. I saw them," she lowered her head slightly, watching as the shadows of the burning tree seemingly took on a life of their own upon her hands. "I saw them through the flames, father. The woman, with the fiery hair, cast fat wriggly little things into a burning brazier. I heard a voice, I could not understand, emerge from the flames. Then the man with the shark-teeth smiled a cruel smile and uttered three names: Balon Greyjoy, Azula Baratheon, and Stannis Baratheon," she shook her head. "I do not understand them, father." she whimpered. "I feel as if I should, but I do not. Is the Fire Lord in danger, is Lord Stannis?" Jun pleaded, looking into his eyes, worrying about the parents of her closest friend, watching as the tight line upon his lips softened. "I wish mother were here…" Jun hugged her knees, watching as her father shimmied from his position across her and came to sit beside her, embracing her in a warm hug as he did so.
"As do I, Jun. As do I," he kissed her forehead, and they sat silently for a moment, both staring at the burning tree. "I know not the nature of your visions, Jun," he said finally, "but I will consult with Cyvia to discern their meaning. If that would put you at ease?"
"It would," she looked up to him. "Thank you, father. I only hope it is not too late."
"It is never too late to hope, Jun," he reassured her with another tight embrace. "You should go now, little one. Be safe," her father tickled her hand and smiled his kindly smile.
"You as well, Grandmaster," she grinned, gently ribbing her father, and saw him shake his head in amusement, until the world started to fade.
(Outside of the Twins: 1/22/299) Jun I
Jun opened her eyes, and immediately felt the warmth of the sun as it pierced through the leafy canopy she meditated beneath. As the warm rays danced upon her skin, a soft snort drew her attention, where she found Whisper, her noble steed, still tied to the base of the tree nibbling at the grass by her side. "Good girl," she patted the horse's snout, standing up and dusting off her crimson and black uniform. She reached down, taking her small meditation rug in hand, rolling it into a tight cylinder, and securing it with rope, before shoving it within her satchel. Jun fitted her open helm upon her head, and looked down the hill, as she secured the bag upon Whisper's side, spotting dozens of Northern banners fluttering in the wind alongside the Narrow Sea's own. 'The flayed man of Bolton,' she began to mentally recite, 'the white sunburst of Karstark, the black lizard-lion of Reed, the black battle-axe of Cerwyn, the hand of Flint, the mailed fist of Glover, the moose of Hornwood, the white ram's head of Rambton, and the seven golden stars of Sunglass, all of them gathered for the sole purpose of bringing an end to the enemies of the crown. Both crowns,' Jun clarified to herself. Just ahead of where the North and Narrow Sea camps were set, she found the sparring forms of Syrah and Haruto. The blindingly white hair of the lithe dragonseed girl shimmered in the sun, like a cloud of silver, reminding her of the girl in her visions, while the large bulk of her former school tormentor loomed over the silvery-white cloud like a spire of black and red. The duo had found themselves surrounded by a circle of the remaining Academy graduates, who deftly deflected errant flames during their contest, curious northern, and narrow sea spectators. All of them hooted as the two unleashed gouts of flame, mixed in with punches and kicks, towards each other. To those who knew, herself included, they were engaging in a simple sparring session. However, for those who did not, the event appeared to have garnered as much attention as some grand tourney. Even with the distance separating them, Jun could see Haruto holding true with his nearly impervious defensive form, one that she herself had never managed to breach. However, with baited breath, she saw that Syrah suffered no such deficiency, as the dragonseed chipped away at the burning wall that was her former classmate.
"The Twins look just as impressive as they did when we had first seen them, do they not?" a familiar voice muttered at her back.
"Yes," she replied absentmindedly, momentarily entranced by the spectacle below, as the white-haired girl swept the legs out from under the large boy and caused him to fall upon his arse. The gather men all booed and laughed at Haruto even as they began shouting for another demonstration.
"Hah! Serves him right for being the obnoxious git that he was!" Brienne laughed heartily, while astride her large mount, both armored black and clad with matching Fire Nation styled skull faceplate and shaffron.
Jun shared a look with the heir of Tarth and grinned, untying the rope securing Whisper to the tree, while trying to forget the dark visions. As she moved to mount Whisper, she spotted faint patches of mist rolling over the river's surface, with some of it lingering around the stony bases of the twin structures. Her small, yet gallant, steed shifted below, causing a soft smile to creep onto her lips as Whisper moved her head downward to once again sniff at the grass beneath. She tussled her small palfrey's mane and was rewarded with an adorable nicker. Whisper lifted her head to allow Jun the chance to hug and nuzzle the back of her neck. "I love you, so much, you know that?" she beamed, deeply thankful to have such a gentle creature as her mount, and Whisper whinnied in response.
"I do not know how you manage to keep her docile," Brienne's cape billowed in the wind, mirroring her charger's caparison, both emblazoned with yellow suns on rose, quartered with white crescents on azure. The sigil of House Tarth, sworn to House Baratheon. "Mine are always irascible and stubborn."
"It's because you never stay with one long enough Brienne," she replied, her hands still patting the side of Whisper's neck. "They never have a chance to become comfortable with you. Then again, maybe they get too comfortable with you and take on your traits?"
Her tall blond friend from Tarth snorted in reply, with her horse quickly following suit with a snort of its own. Brienne blinked in surprise, casting a dark look towards her, and the smile that had formed upon her lips. "Say nothing," her friend warned, looking past her, out towards the Twins and the river beneath, just as she had been doing only moments past. "It seems like a lifetime ago, doesn't it?" Brienne uttered, obviously intent on moving the conversation along.
"It does. Although this time we are far closer," a sense of melancholy darkened her spirits and she cast them aside. "Remember the Green Fork?"
"When Ursa boiled the water to catch fish?" Brienne chuckled softly.
"Heh, it was a miracle no one saw us with all that bloody steam," she smiled, belying her halfhearted reply. Both shared a laugh at the memory of Ursa's poor attempts at fishing, after she had given up and thrown her line into the water, and settled for simply wading into a shallow pool and boiling up her catch.
"In all fairness, we had enough dried fish for days," her knightly friend added.
"True enough, but my hand is still sore from all the drawing she had me doing of the roads and countryside," she replied, just as a noise drew her attention to the trees behind them. The Lieutenant-General rode up out of the forest attired in heavy crimson-hued Fire Nation armor consisting of a simple cuirass, tassets, shoulder pads, armored collar, black pants, heavy black boots, and open-faced helm with golden flame trim. Her former instructor approached the group of sixteen that were gathered around Robb and Ursa. She and Brienne cast one last look towards the Twins, before urging their mounts back to the group, to see what news Chi-Ha had brought.
"Ser Emmon seems to be quite the worrywart," they arrived to catch Lord Halys' response to what presumably had been the contents of the message taken from a raven. Jun maneuvered Whisper alongside Jon and his charger, who remained at Robb's side. Ghost and Greywind stood a bit away, near the edge of the woods where Chi-Ha had emerged, while the four silent Dragonstone guard kept only a few paces away from their charge.
"Emmon Frey's hand, but the old lion's words, or those of his sister," Lord Glover commented, as he read from the unfurled raven scroll in his hand.
"I agree. I would advise to keep shooting them down," Ser Rambton remarked, as Jun caught the sideways glance he had cast towards the commander, "and prevent word of our movements from reaching the Lannisters, or swaying the Twins to their side."
'Still question our people, Rambton? Have you taken the Lannister lies to heart?' Jun idled, watching the eyes of the pious knight.
"If Lord Frey were truly that foolish, then he may as well throw himself off his tower and be done with it!" Lord Rickard boomed as his long beard swayed in the wind.
"Aye," muttered the Lord Robin Flint, while Lords Bolton, Karstark, and Cerwyn, simply nodded in agreement. "Especially with his grace, King Robert, and your grandfather," Lord Flint turned to the heir of Winterfell, who at present was scowling beneath thoughtful brow, "allied against the treacherous lions."
"We can't expect his support then?" Robb questioned his gathered northmen.
"I would think not, considering all the crossbowmen he has posted on that tower," Chi-Ha pointed out in a deep frown, accenting the long scar running down her face, and making her an even more fearsome sight than usual. Squinting her eyes, Jun saw the tell-tale signs of steel-pointed crossbows bolts, glinting in the sunlight, arrayed all along the small windows of the tower. "And the fact the he has yet to send out a delegation," the commander concluded.
"Well, neither have we, my lady," Stark's firstborn noted.
"True enough," Chi-Ha shrugged, though developed a slight grin upon her scarred face.
"Best to expect nothing of him, until the toll is paid. I'm certain that is what he is waiting for. An offer," Reed's soft voice mentioned from within the group. The small stature of the Lord of Greywater Watch had found him virtually hidden amongst the larger lords and their various ringmail and heavy plate armors.
"And what do you think that offer must consist of, I wonder, Lord Reed?" the former instructor looked to the man in question and seemingly found naught but reverence in his eyes, before she moved her iron stare toward the rest of the Northern lords. The banners fluttered below, providing a break in the silence, as they pondered the question. After a moment, Chi-Ha continued her address, providing answer, "The same as you lot, I imagine? Although most of you have yet to say it."
Jun almost laughed at looks of surprise, evident upon the faces of the Lords Hornwood, Karstark, Cerwyn, Flint, and Glover, at the insinuation, before cold northern scowls set in place, while Sunglass and Rambton had remained unshaken.
"To what do you insinuate, woman?" Karstark barked.
"Marriages, Lord Karstark. Marriages and the legacies that follow them," Chi-Ha crossed her visibly muscly arms, proving even the cloth and pads of her armor had been unable to hide their definition. Jun saw them grow taut as they entwined in front her commander's solid chest like steel cord. "But not just any old, legacy, no. The Targaryens had their dragons, and it kept them alive and in power for three-hundred years. So what lord, what house, would not wish a dragon of their own? Hmm? Not the flying kind, but one with whom they would share blood and could name heir?"
"You would offer a marriage proposal to Walder-fucking-Frey, before us!?" Rickard bellowed, as the others murmured their disapproval, save Bolton, Cerwyn, Sunglass, and Rambton. "The Mormonts were acceptable. Even if they were right cunts in hiding it from the rest of us, but what position do you hold that allows you to dictate the marriages of your own people to others?!"
"I hold no such position in the arrangement of the marriages of my people, Lord Karstark. Only the Fire Lord holds such authority, and her heir is at my side," Chi-Ha unfolded her bristling arms, and motioned towards Ursa, who narrowed her gaze and presented a stiff glare as all eyes focused upon her. "Right now she may be learning what it means to be Fire Lord, but she also has the power to act as the Fire Lord's word and will. They will be her people to command, one day, just as I am her mother's to command now. The Fire Lord knows that we are only afforded such a strong position amongst you,] because of our blood, and Lord Stark's words, alone. Elsewise you may have chosen to have fallen upon us like the lions would have wished you to. You, whose titles are of more import than our own, save hers," she nodded to the Princess of Dragonstone. "Proving that in spite of whatever foul rumors prevail upon the wind, that there was one thing that truly mattered more. One's own legacy," the former instructor clenched her fist at the last. "So if any of you wish to discuss marriages, you'd best please the future Fire Lord, or you may find your houses bereft of any hope of having Fire Nation blood coursing through its lineage."
The northern lords seem torn between pride and loyalty, and thus held their tongues, while a pensive look came over the Lord of the Dreadfort. "May I suggest someone not as wild? Someone strong, yet controllable? I hear Lord Frey has many daughters, and I would fear for his health should you offer him what I have eyed," he looked towards Ursa.
She couldn't help but blink at that, as a sudden turning of the stomach twisted her face, and thanked the shadows cast by her helm for having hidden her reaction. 'What!? Who have you been eying?' Jun wanted to ask, but knowing it would have been out of place in Ursa's presence. Alone they were friends, but in public they were master and subject. Looking towards her love, who remained stoically silent alongside the rest, she knew he understood. 'Damn you, Jon. How do you do it?'
"You are correct, in your assessment, Lord Bolton," the Princess said at last. "Any woman offered would most assuredly be taken by the old man himself. I would wish to not leave that kind of taste festering in the mouths of my people. Someone strong, and controllable, you say?" Ursa turned to peer just over the hill where camp was made. Turning and following her sight, she found her friend's point of interest. The place she had just been staring out onto when she had returned from the grove.
Evidently having followed her gaze as well, Lord Bolton reiterated, "For a man who has many daughters."
"Would that fine young man over there be acceptable to him, do you think?" she saw burning golden eyes boring into her former tormentor, as he stomped around the small dueling circle in his rematch against the dragonseed, and one of the first victims of Ursa's fury, Haruto. "One I control? One with good marks at the academy?"
"I imagine his sons would be apprehensive, considering the danger such a union would bring upon their claims once Old Walder perishes," Bolton stared out at the circle, along with the other lords. "But for Lord Frey, it may be seen as acceptable, as long as it was his blood ruling the Twins in the end."
"Hmmm, I see," Robb cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact with Ursa.
'Feeling shy, are you?' she stifled a grin, before turning to Jon and seeing much the same avoidance, understanding the embarrassment talk of marriages could incur upon young men. Enjoying the small distraction such simple childhood things could bring, even in the face of her inexplicable visions, she shook her head in silent laughter.
"I apologize for intruding in this conversation, my lady, but what of Highgarden? I would wish to know if any change has occurred in the South, with regards to them. Lady Jun, has your father spoken of them?" Robb asked, looking towards her and Chi-Ha both, his azure pools radiating with a certain inquisitiveness that was to be expected of a future lord.
'Eager to learn. Eager to please,' she noted, remembering a similar young man who had been born on Dragonstone. "He has," Jun answered, a part of her smiling at the discomfort talk of marriages had had on the Stark heir. "Last words had it that King Robert and Ser Steffon, were still held up in the Stormlands, debating what to do about the army the Reachlords have thus far gathered," she informed, as several of the men gathered took ill to the words, though she cared not.
"Have the flowers finally declared?" Cerwyn inquired.
"They have yet to answer King Robert's summons," she continued, shifting on her saddle, "and have not moved an inch from Highgarden. Fifty-thousand troops and growing, just waiting for the right moment. Too many to attack without provocation, and far too many to simply ignore."
"And it's just a stone's throw away from Highgarden to Storm's End and King's Landing," Robb supplied, with a deepening frown, "especially if we are distracted. They wouldn't take them, of course, considering the capital is held by the very two people who successfully resisted and destroyed the Reach once before, and Storm's End is held by his grace, who won the Iron Throne," he nodded towards Ursa. "However, it would certainly hamper our movements in the West, as we would need to reassign men to answer any calls for aid."
"Lord Tyrell knows exactly what he is doing," her scarred former instructor informed them. "So long as he sits in Highgarden and maintains neutrality, his position between the King and the Westerlands prevents his grace from gathering his full force and moving on Casterly Rock. Which, at the very least, Lord Tywin will surely take as a minor reprieve compared to the pressure he otherwise would've faced had the Reach outright declared its allegiance."
"I agree, but dealing with the Reach is ultimately the King's concern. They are too far and would frankly leave us far too open to the Lannisters if we did so," the Firelord's eldest daughter nodded her head. "Should they prove traitors, then his grace will deal with them. He has to, otherwise this war may turn far messier than we can afford. We need only worry about what is in front of us, for now, my lords. No need to further complicate our situation with overthinking. We cannot be everywhere at once. We must be decisive, and put pressure on the Lannisters before the Tyrells can declare either way, and deny them the opportunity to ravage the Riverlands. You uncle has stopped them, thus far," Ursa looked towards Robb, "but even an angry trout cannot stave off the lion forever. Not with the twenty-five-thousand he is reported to have."
"This is assuming the Old Lion doesn't cast caution to the wind and decides on pressing the issue by moving his army down the Goldroad to assault the capital," Lord Cerwyn quietly rejoined. "Now that he knows about your 'benders' he may find a way to counter them should he decide to march. His reputation as a commander has been hard earned, and I would not underestimate him, my lady."
"It would be a suicide run. My parents hold the highest concentration of benders in the King's army, and their record of victories are unblemished by defeats. The holding of Storm's End, the battle of Shipbreaker Bay, the forests outside Storm's End, the assault on Dragonstone, the battle of Fair Isle, the sieges of Great Wyk and Old Wyk, the purging of the Stepstones. Unlike Lord Tywin, who saw his fleet burned at anchor during the Greyjoy Rebellion, and used superior numbers to crush unruly vassals," Ursa stated. "Tell me, Lord Cerwyn, who is Tywin Lannister that my parents should fear him if he were to do such a thing? A man who sends harps to people who hurt his feelings? I assure you, they'll hang him up with those same harp strings, should he try anything so bold. Him and the rest of his brood."
"Bah, you should curb your pride, girl, or he will lay you low. You and your mother rely too much on your fire sorcerers," Lord Rickard's deep voice, rumbled its reply, enhancing his gauntly yet intimidating features.
"I'm sure that is what Tarly would have said of my mother, had he met her before she had killed him and crushed the Reach army with only a tank and twenty soldiers. One of whom is with us now," Ursa nodded towards Chi-Ha, signaling her turn to speak.
"Fifteen years have passed since that time, and I guarantee you, Lord Karstark, that we have far more than the meager force we had back then," A flare of anger swirled in Chi-Ha's eye before passing. "We understand how war works here now, and Dragonstone has not been idle in ways to wage it effectively."
"She is correct. When we push through the Twins today, we can meet with your uncle's forces at Riverrun," Ursa continued, glancing to Robb, "before Lord Tywin can take to the field, then if the gods are good, we can keep him and his family contained within the Rock. Where we can then deal with them in one fell stroke."
"'One fell stroke?' Are you daft!?" the Karstark scoffed at the idea, the other lords following example shortly thereafter. Ursa merely presented a faint smile, one Jun knew to be dangerous.
"Watch your tongue," Chi-Ha edged closer to the Lord of Karhold, only stopping short at Ursa's hand upon her shoulder.
"Go on, woman, make the attempt! And you too, girl! Lord Stark commanded I join my men with yours in battle, and that is what I shall do, but I will not throw them away on something as mad as laying siege to the Rock," he sneered.
"Pardon me, my lords, but perhaps we should wait and see what exactly she has in mind, before we go antagonizing the future Fire Lord of Dragonstone?" Bolton interjected, in a calm voice.
"We have not enough men, Bolton! Even if the Riverlords joined with us in equal numbers we would only have thirty-thousand! Even the Conqueror, with his three dragons, made no such attempt! It's foolhardy!" the bearded lord crossed his arms.
"The current Fire Lord has thus far proven to be quite clever, and has achieved far more resounding victories with far less in the way of men or materials. Perchance her heir will prove just as clever? If not more so," curiosity swirled within icy-grey eyes.
"Gratitude for your confidence, my lord," Ursa said with a nod, causing the odd man to bow his head in acceptance of the praise bestowed upon him. "As was said, we have much more than mere 'fire sorcerors' to offer, Lord Rickard. I promise you, that the lives of your men will not be wasted upon the walls of Casterly Rock. They will, in fact, be watching from afar, feasting upon banquet tables, as me and mine turn that ancient castle into tomb. Thus burning the memory into the minds of all Westerosi on what happens to those who challenge the crown."
"Pfft, how?" the Lord of Karhold rebuked.
"You need not know the methods on which such will be achieved. Only know that it will be done, if we can gather all of the Lannisters within the Rock. If not, it will be disappointing, and far more irritating, but at the very least you will see your halls awash with lion pelts, and your vaults overflowing with gold. And regardless of what happens, tomb or pelt, when the smoke settles the only songs that will be written thereafter will be 'the Flames of Casterly Rock.'" Ursa's golden eyes blazed brilliantly in the sun, her frown appearing more as a harbinger of death than mere girl, and her words sounding far more forceful than she had been accustomed to. The bloom of heat from before returned in an instant, momentarily unnerving the horses, before disappearing just as quickly.
'What are you planning, Ursa?' Jun shivered at the burning look within her friend's eyes, noting several of the gather lords having taken a step back during her future Fire Lord's proclamation, even her beloved.
The Lord of Karhold appeared ready to reply, then held his tongue, allowing for the small lord of Greywater to speak once more. "What of the Wall, and the Others?" he asked, looking towards her, clearing his throat and visibly off put by the murderously focused look upon Ursa's young face. Eyeing her with equal parts reverence and fear, the small northman shifted eyes between Ursa and Chi-Ha, before coming to rest upon her. The earlier insults of both marriage prospects and mental surety having fallen by the wayside, seemingly beneath Ursa's and everyone else's concern.
"Sergeant Sho-Yu, has yet to report any incidents," she replied, still tracking an eye upon her ferocious friend. "Though he has informed me that the Lord Commander has called for a great ranging, at the behest of Lord Stark and the Fire Lord. The Smalljon has volunteered to join the ranging with two-hundred men, with the intention being of discerning the whereabouts of Bloodraven and uncover what he knows about the movements of the Others."
"How does that man still draw breath after all these years?" Bolton asked out of, apparently, genuine inquisitiveness.
"One of the many questions I imagine will be asked, when we find him," the Princess assured, as she scanned the Twins in the distance.
"First the Lannisters, then Bloodraven, then the Others. When does this farce end, my lady?" Hornwood added, only to be faced with an iron response.
"When they are all dead, or have bent the knee before the Iron Throne," Ursa turned back and stated matter-of-factly. Her words having neither invited nor incited any form of response, save a series of awkward grumbles from the gathered lords.
"Any word from the Vale, Dorne, or the Iron Islands?" the pale lord eyed her as he broke the question.
"Dorne remains silent, even after Prince Oberyn returned to Sunspear. There has been talk of sellsails docking at Sunspear. The Golden Company, if I recall correctly."
"The Golden Company?!" several lords shouted in alarm.
"We have no reason to suspect they are hostile to us. The Dornish are not particularly endeared to the Lannisters, nor they them," she said, "and Prince Doran assures us it is only to better prepare for Reach aggression should they turn against us."
"And you accept their excuses for such things? No one truly knows how a Dornishman's mind works, my lady, not even the Dornish," Lord Cerwyn disputed, crossing his arms. "I believe it best to pursue the bloody war without them."
"My mother has gone through great pains in cultivating a working relationship with the Princes of Dorne after that bit of business with their sister during the rebellion, Lord Cerwyn," Ursa added. "And I trust her judgement, for she has not led us astray."
The man sat silently upon his horse, judging her charge with critical eyes.
"As for the Valelords?" she continued, after Cerwyn ceased his arguments, and Ursa finished her piece. "The majority have begun to muster, reportedly nearing six-thousand strong, though we have none of our number within the Vale to gather an accurate count. As for the Islands? Our outpost, Azula's Mercy, has reported nothing. Our soldiers are not exactly allowed free reign within Pyke, my lords," she couldn't help but add in a semi-sarcastic tone, having barely manage to stifle the full brunt of her tongue.
"Greyjoy likely still licking his wounds from the last time?" the Lord of Flint's Finger supposed, reminding them of the crushing defeat the Lord and Lady of Dragonstone had handed to the Greyjoys during their short-lived rebellion.
"Even if he was, any help he could have provided us would have been questionable at best," Chi-Ha added. "As any force he could muster has equal chances of being turned against us, or worse, allied with the forces of the lions."
"Ahem, my lords? It appears we let this conversation get away from us," Ursa budged upon her saddle, having unmistakably grown bored with the exchange. "On the matter of gaining passage through the Twins?"
(The Twins: 1/22/299) Jun I
The hall was damp and musky, her nose twitching at the old smell. Upon the rafters, she spied several ratty-looking men armed with crossbows, slack jaws, and looks of fear. Jun noted their shaded eyes, hidden as they were in the soft glow of the torches lining the hall, but one thing that had not been hidden were beads of sweat massing upon quivering brows. Surrounding them, were empty wooden benches, which Jun assumed would have been crowded with Frey men. 'No doubt after having heard of the events in King's Landing, Lord Frey chose to show far more caution when dealing with Firebenders, than he otherwise would have with normal Westrosi,' she figured. 'Smart move, old man, but they won't be enough to stop Ursa, let alone all of us,' the thought slithered into her mind, as she glanced to her left, spotting the Princess bearing her dangerously flat gaze. By her side were Haruto, Syrah, the two silent Flameguard, and the odd-man-out, Roose Bolton, who stood at the forefront of their group. While Haruto seemed confused in his assignment, Syrah only radiated boredom.
"Normally I would take offense to the shooting down of ravens headed for my towers," the wrinkly old man, who fashioned himself lord of the Twins, frowned an ugly frown as he sat upon his equally hideous chair. "But things are not normal, are they?" the man tilted his head, his brown eyes lingering for far too long upon her, Ursa, and Syrah, until they shifted back to the Lord of the Dreadfort and the man just behind, who held untouched provisions of bread and salt.
Looking back at the man with the traditional offerings made for guest right, the pale lord merely shrugged, or appeared to, Jun could not tell. "The Lady of Dragonstone prefers us to keep our options open," he said, as he returned his icy gaze back to the Lord of the Twins.
"As she does with all things, I imagine," he dismissed the man. "Well? Out with it! I assume you were sent to negotiate a crossing? Try not to take too long, I'm far too old. I have a young wife waiting for me in my chambers, and haven't the time to spare," Walder licked his lips with a grin, then scowled. "Especially with the Others supposedly up and about. Oh yes, I've read the ravens. Is that really true?" he squinted, rearing forward in his chair, and clasping his hands together.
"My liege lord says as such, and I have no reason to doubt the words of Eddard Stark," Lord Bolton replied in a soft, yet unmistakably ominous tone which sent a chill down her spine.
"Mmmm, yes. A safe reply, especially given our audience," Lord Frey waved his hand toward them, though Jun felt most of it directed towards Ursa, before the old lord reclined back into his seat. "And what about you, girl? Unna? Orra? Something?"
Expecting a bloom of heat at Lord Walder's disrespect, Jun was surprised at the lack thereof and the silence that followed.
"Well, girl?" the old man pressed, the annoyance evident in his voice.
Twisting her head slightly to catch sight of her charge, she found Ursa's fiery golden orbs boring into a crossbowman up in the rafters, hands at her side, and with a tight line drawn across her lips. "That man has unsteady hands," she said simply, pointing him out, and causing the rest of them to look. "My name is Ursa Baratheon, Lord Frey," hesitant molten eyes peeled away from the man in the shadows and turned to focus upon an old man in a dusty chair. "Daughter of Stannis and Azula Baratheon, and I would recommend you tell him to stand down, before he makes us all do something that you will regret."
"Ha! Well you certainly inherited your mother's bold nature, I'll give you that," Walder laughed, even as his elderly eyes squinted up at the man in question. "Is that you, Raymund? Put down the damned crossbow, you knighted fool!" Hearing the clattering of a weapon being placed upon a stone wall, Lord Frey turned back to them. "There, happy now?"
"I am never happy, my lord," she retorted in a dull tone and withering glare. "In fact, the only thing that could conceivably see me near such a state, would be seeing our army crossing the Twins by day's end. A thing I'm sure you are more than capable of seeing come to fruition?"
"Possibly," he sneered. "Though it depends. What do I gain out of letting you pass through?"
"Considering you have let us enter your castle bearing arms," Ursa interjected, "and have taken no major offense to our relinquishing of guest right, I would say you have already made that decision. Haven't you, Lord Frey?"
"Is it wrong of me to try?" the old lord countered. "I have mouths to feed, and a legacy to maintain. Those things do not come cheap."
"You know my mother warned me of men, such as you, and their habits of finding opportunity in everything. 'It is to be expected, in all things,' she said, but still," the Princess grimaced, causing a bloom of heat to temporarily surround them, until it drained away into the cold stone surrounding them after she regained her composure. Ursa's nostrils flared in the silence, accompanied only by the soft sounds of grinding teeth beneath youthful lips, as the opportunistic nature of Westeros had finally and truly appeared to have annoyed her, now that she was experiencing it firsthand.
"And she has the right of it! Acting contrary to that does not lead to a long fruitful life," the aged man said, as he looked towards the Lord of the Dreadfort. "Look, I do not care about any of that trite the damned lions are trying to shove down mine and everyone else's throat. I only want three things: a demonstration, an explanation, and a marriage, though the last can be worked around," the old man gazed hungrily upon her and Syrah.
Jun shivered in her boots, and felt the bile rising to her throat. Syrah, who had previously been preoccupied looking at her nails during the entire exchange, finally looked up. "Ew. No. And gross."
"And if we refuse?" Bolton asked, ignoring Syrah's comment.
"You will still be allowed to pass. I am no traitor," Frey answered, still eying the silver-haired girl with interest, though his face had turned decidedly dark with his words. "However, you will not be leaving here with the four-thousand Frey men I can provide to bolster your ranks, and help you win your war."