Stannis

They finished wrapping the ropes around the traitors' necks. Thankfully, they didn't run out of rope for the hundred prisoners. They assembled the entire crew to see justice done against the scoundrels. His Onion Knight stood by his right side.

"Last words." He asked.

"What is dead may never die!" The Ironborn chanted bravely.

They died with far less bravado strangled by the rope until only one remained. A man most would consider strong, tall, and broad. Though he still looked down on him. A stub stood where his right hand should be. Bloody cloths wrapped around it. He slew half a dozen knights before Stannis brought him down, slamming his hilt against his helm. A blow even Robert would have been proud of. Victarion Greyjoy was the mans name. Brother of a false king.

Stannis gazed at his foe. "Last words." He asked indifferently.

A raspy chuckled escaped his lips. "Get on with it. I fought. You won. Now I die, but my brother the Iron King shall best you. You shall drown Stannis Baratheon."

He lowered his hand, and justice was done.

"There is only one king and his name is Robert."

Stannis withdrew to the cabin and gazed over the charts and traced their route. He had studied diligently the art of sailing, as Robert had made him Master of Ships. I learned. The Iron Fleet sank to the bottom of the sea yet again. The Redweyne fleet combined with his own and the element of surprise smashed them into the rocks. We lured them to their own damnation like a fisherman with bait on the hook. The path to the Iron Islands lay wide open as they sailed to Seaguard to ferry the Crown forces. "My lord." His Onion Knight. " I'm surprised to see you here."

"And why is that?" He never lifted his eyes away from the parchment.

"Didn't Lord Redwyne extend you an invitation to dine with him and his captains? I know Lucerys and Jace are in attendance."

He ground his teeth. "I shall not dine with a man who starved my brother and I."

Most men would have spluttered or agreed with him. Davos merely considered his words before speaking honestly. "Aye, but his help was instrumental, was it not? The offer was genuine, I think."

"Genuine or not, it matter littles ser." He said. "I won't fault him for doing his duty, but nor shall I reward him. Should I thank him for what is expected of him?" Men didn't require praise for doing what was required.

"It would show appreciation, my lord. We bled with them, did we not?"

Stannis said nothing.

Ser Davos lingered. "Your sons." Stannis said. "How fare them?"

"I pray to the Seven my second Allard shall survive his wounds, but my other sons have their health."

He offered him a single nod of acknowledgement. "Go be with him then." He commanded. "I have no use for you here." He was far too soft with his Onion Knight. A sentimentality born from the day he arrived with a boat full of onion. Hunger was a taste that lingered in the heart. It was not something easily forgotten.

"My lord." Ser Davos offered dutifully.

Stannis rubbed his chin and considered the next stage of the war. The Invasion of the Iron Islands to dethrone this so called Iron King.

Ned

White Harbor was a well-ordered city filled with wide, straight, cobbled streets that make it easy to walk around. It smelled of the salt and the sea. Kings Landing smelled foul even from the Tower of the Hand and was certainly not well planned.

Lannisport seemed a cross between the two. Though vastly cleaner to Kings Landing. Ned mused.

The harbor loomed in front of them as they went to inspect the Lannister fleet. The local city watch was out, controlling the crowds that formed distinguished by their silver cloaks. His household guard flanked around him. Jory on his left, with Alyn bringing up the rear. Ser Lucion, Lord of Lannisport, joined him with a small retinue of his own. He had proved a good guide in navigating the city, knowing every street by heart. Behind them his nephew Jasper rode with an escort of Arryn guardsman. A flashy smile plastered to his face that had not dimmed since they left the apartments of the Rock. Lord Willem had spared no expense to see them well accommodated and after a few weeks of riding, it was well appreciated. Lord Yohn had gone with half their host to take up positions along the Crakehall. Messengers already informed him Lord Tarly had retreated into the Reach. He had sent a raven to Highgarden, informing them to send a delegation and submit before the justice of the Iron Throne.

"And then Loren Lannister, with the support of King Gerold II of the Rock, added the Coin District." Lord Lucion said, his voice brimming with pride. "Only took five years, according to the histories! King Gerold was so impressed he commissioned a tapestry of Lannisport made. It still hangs in the Great Halls of Casterly Rock!" Every street and segment had some story, and it seemed he knew anything about the city. Ned might even know it better than the back of his hand before they left. "If you look to the right, you'll see the Street of the Dragon where King Aegon stayed before he united the Seven Kingdoms under his reign! It used to house the Inn he stayed at, but was destroyed during the Great Fire of 222 A.C. Never was renamed of course. Can't have that!"

"Of course." Ned replied.

Jory looked half dead from all the stories. Tommard and Halyn looked half murderous and Canard might have been half asleep. Not that Lord Lucion noticed as he prattled on.

"And what can you tell me of the fleet?" Ned asked.

"Ah! The fleet! Recently added a new flagship, the Crimson Lion! Not very original, but atlas it pleased Lord Tywin! My cousin Gerold is in command. Fine sailor! Very fine sailor. He'll have you ferried Lord Regent!" A brief breath. "If you are worried about the Sea Cat, she'll find Lord Stannis quickly. The fastest ship in the fleet. My third cousin twice remove Gerry is in command."

Ned had the Lannisters deliver a message to Lord Stannis informing him to bring the Royal Fleet to Lannisport instead of Seaguard.

Before Ned could reply, he heard the screams.

"The Iron King!"

"The Iron King!"

Dozens of throats called out as watchmen dropped like flies and they charged them with axes and swords from both sides. The crowds of smallfolk ran in mass panic. "Protect Lord Stark!" Jory twisted sharply in front of him and tried to remove his sword from his scabbard, but it was stuck. Jory. Ned was helpless to intervene as he drew his own sword in vain.

Jory wasn't the one who died.

Ned watched as Jasper Arryn saved Jorys life with a single swift slash of his sword. Bells rang in the background as bodies dropped.

Swords clashed and a thousand battles echoed in his skull. "Get Lord Stark out of here!" Some voice said in the distance, Ned could scarcely hear it.

"No." He replied. "We fight."

He swung his sword as men screamed out house words or battle cries. Ned heard none of it. It was like a dream, a dull dream as swords clanged and men died. A dream he had seen before. When it was over, Ned stood over a man, his sword coated in crimson red. Did he kill this man? I must have. "Lord Lucion is dead, my lord." Jory said. "Pulled from the saddle." Ned nodded and studied the scene. Halyn and Tommard both lay unmoving, along with three Arryn guardsmen. He looked for his nephew and found him hunched over Borens corpse mumbling some words. Jasper saw him approach and closed Boren's eyes. An aloof look replaced his despondent expression as he stood up. His hands were soaked in blood. Ned was thankful to see no harm had befallen him. "You saved my life." Jory thanked him and extended his hand.

They shook hands. "You are welcome Ser Jory."

"Are you well Jasper?" Ned asked.

"I suffered no wounds. But who are these men? Iron King? I'm unfamiliar with the title."

Ned knew. "It means Balon Greyjoy is up to his old ways again."

"Then his life is forfeit." Jasper said flatly. "If you excuse me, Lord Stark, I have to attend to my men." He offered a light dip of his head as protocol dictated.

"It is the just course of action." Neds lip twirled in a light frown at the distance in his voice. "Of course." He said.

Jasper

Bella.

The dying man, with his last breath, whispered that name to him.

Jasper tried in vain to keep his lifeblood from spilling, but he couldn't save him. Not even a maester could have saved the Stark man from the gods. In the songs he would have given me a last wish I could honor. But life wasn't like a song. A single word is all he received. Was it his wife? His daughter? A mother? Jasper didn't know and likely never would. It was a private thing he didn't wish to share with anyone. Overt empathy would name him a boy and not a man grown.

I could have saved him. I killed him as much as the Iron born reaver.

Jasper played with the knightly jade piece Myrcella had given him and the fears that seized him like the Stranger. The moon was out in full that night, but in the comfort of his apartment took a deep breath and tried to relax as his hands shook. Jasper had spent the entire day wearing his flashy smile with his banners. He japed with the Royces. Praised the Redforts. Dined with the Belmores and did his duty, trying to keep up this mummery as if he could be this perfect lord everyone needed like his father. The break was a momentary respite as he was joining his banners in the taverns as they sought to celebrate his kills.

I could have killed my foe faster. Jasper knew, but he fought conservatively because he wanted to go back home and didn't wish to leave his wife a widow or his unborn child fatherless. The Stark man died not from the Ironborn axe, but from his selfishness. I could have saved him. I should have saved him. If he had dispatched his foe faster, he could have saved him from the reaver. The man wasn't even his responsibility like everyone in the Vale, but he fought valiantly to defend his lord from cravens sulking in the crowds. It was respectable, and he could find no fault with it.

Everyone in the Vale was his responsibility from the lowly serf to the highest lord of the Vale. Every man, woman, and child was his responsibility. In a way, the Stark man was his responsibility as well, they all marched under the same banner and Jasper needed to safeguard his life as well.

It was not something he considered lightly.

A lord had to be brave and Jasper had always been willing to lay down his life for his men. Though it was harder now that he had something to go back to. I didn't do all I could. I played it safe, and a man died. This Bella would mourn him because he honored his promise to Myrcella. Jasper lit some candles for the man's soul in the sept. Even if he believed in the Old Gods, Jasper was convinced the Warrior would welcome a brave man into his halls. How could the Seven not? Bravery and valor were the highest virtues for any man.

Ser Jory thanked him for saving his life, but he should condemn him for his failure. Lord Stark asked about his well being and he detected no falsehoods behind his voice. Lord Stark was a noble man. A good man. It was how a lord should behave. Men don't behave like him. Most play games. Most lie. It was difficult to trust. Jasper could count on his hand those he trusted without question. Everyone else, he guessed, and sometimes wrongly. Once he thought Lord Baelish was only some petty crook, a needed evil, not someone playing him so false. He misjudged Lord Stark and his nature and feared him as an enemy. Sometimes he still doubted him. So many mistakes, Jasper thought with bitterness.

Myrcella would say otherwise, but she was far too sweet for him. He missed her voice and presence. She would have known the right thing to say to relax him. He was taut as a bowstring, imaging thousands of dead Valeman on this inevitable campaign in the Iron islands. Damn fools dared to name themselves independent of the Iron Throne. This is one land and one throne. Why did they commit such folly? They must be as intelligent as livestock, after all. It was madness.

Jasper rubbed his temples.

Some of his men wished to slaughter them like livestock, but they were still men with souls, and he would not tolerate such uncivilized conduct. They would smash the Ironborn until they brought them to their knees and the Kings peace as quickly as possible. The quicker it ended, the more Valeman lives would be saved. However, House Greyjoy should be attainted and stripped of all rank and title and put to the sword. Twice they dared to make themselves kings. King Robert had shown restraint, but they spat upon it.

Besides the instability of a new Great House being raised would likely increase the Iron born raids along the western coast, further increasing the incentives for the Westerlands and Riverlands to seek redress and protection from their respective Lord Paramounts. The costs of increasing their fleets would put a strain on their base of support, making them more pliable in negotiations with the Crown.

"Lord Stark, you should put your hostage to the sword." Jasper said. "His life is forfeit."

"Theon? Is that who you speak of?" Lord Stark sighed. " He is not responsible for the folly of his father."

"When King Robert gave you the boy, it was to put him to the sword should his father step out of line. That day has come."

Lord Stark gazed at him with frozen eyes. "I shall not. This is the last I want to hear of this nephew."

"You think I'm the only one? Even your own men say such. It's politically unsound not too."

"Honor is not derived from politics. I shall not condemn the boy innocent of any wrong purely to garner some advantage." Grey eyes narrowed. "Nor should you Jasper Arryn. Would you do the same to your wards?"

Jasper bristled. "That's different…. they are only boys. Not a man grown."

Jasper didn't understand why the order to kill Theon Greyjoy wasn't given. Twice his family has dared to name themselves kings. How was it his fault Lord Stark permitted him to grow up amongst his trueborn children, raising him like his own? It was beyond queer and defeated the purpose of taking a hostage. Actions like this made him doubt the man.

He fought for justice for babes long since slain. Jasper remembered..

When he had long forgotten such crimes.

It kept the doubt at bay.

Maybe if Lord Stark had been an ambitious man, it would have been seeing a Stark aligned Lord of Pyke on the Sea Chair. A practical notion that had some benefit for them. Yet, he saw no evidence from his stay in Winterfell of Theon Greyjoy being trained for this role. Lord Stark didn't think like that strangely enough.

He had no authority to force Lord Theons execution and conflict undermined the overall alliance with Lord Stark. Publicly, we must seem united, and privately, he didn't wish to fight with him at all.

Jasper took another breath and left his quarters for another performance.

Tankards of ale slammed against the tables as loud as drums as men laughed and japed. Eddard Karstark shit eating grin told him he was trapped. "Drink! Drink! The men chanted and Jasper wondered how he found himself in this position. Goodwill and alliance building with our northern neighbors. Jasper mused. He gripped the giant horn of ale and chugged its contents down his throat. Every drop. The shit-eating grin crumbled as he slammed the horn into his burly chest. "Your turn." Jasper smirked. "Or do you yield ser?"

"I'll yield when the Wall melts!"

"Take him down Eddard! Show that southern priss!" One of his companions chanted.

Jasper was not without his own supporters as Jasper Redfort screamed. "Sweep the leg, my liege!" Much like his father, he enjoyed the spirits a bit too much and was already deep in his cups.

"Tis not a duel you drunk bastard!" Albar Royce declared.

"He can still sweep it, though!"

Three more horns of ale and Jasper swayed lightly as his vision blurred. "Not bad for a southerner." Eddard Karstark roared as he chugged the liquid down his throat. "Without hair on his face."

"A breeze could knock you down." Jasper said haughtily. "Or a girl with palsy."

"I shall never fall!" He declared before collapsing and spilling his dinner on his boots. Jasper was too drunk to care as the Vale men cheered and coins changed hands as the Northerners groaned.

He offered his hand. "Well-" Before twisting away. Suddenly, his stomach betrayed him and his breakfast, lunch and dinner came spewing out of his throat until he was empty. It was unlordly, but he didn't care as their eyes locked and they both roared with laughter. Strangely, he found Eddard Karstark to be a decent sort of man. He would have made a hell of a valeman. They talked of the Hillsman and the Wildings and the hunts they had gone on. They had more in common than he once thought. Both of them had to deal with uncivilized savages whom preyed upon their people like shadowcats.

"The only good Wildling is a dead one!"

"The only good Hillsman is a dead one! They are fucking savages!"

"If they are like our Wildlings, aye!"

"Have you ever hunted a wooly mammoth?"

Jasper was floored. "They don't exist!"

"Oh, they do. Beyond the Wall. Hunted one with Smalljon. It's bigger than a castle!" He boasted.

"Fuck, that's big!" Jasper didn't know if he believed the man, but Beyond the Wall all kinds of creatures could exist. It was an untamed land where civilization didn't touch. Occasionally a man of the Nights Watch that came to the Eyrie for her convicts spoke strange tales that made his skin crawl. Not that he would ever admit to such.

"What about a shadowcat?" Jasper asked.

Albar Royce groaned. "Not this story again."

Ser Wendel Manderly put down his leg of mutton, the juice trickling down his chin. "Story?"

Jasper snorted. "Not my fault Albar, you wanted to turn back because of a little water." He winked. "I still got your sister that pelt, did I not?"

He nodded in agreement. "She wears it often."

Eddard Karstark answered. "Once." He slurred.

Jasper smirked. "Have you beat! Three to one."

A glint of mischief simmered in the Northman's eyes as he placed one muddy boot dramatically on the bar, to the quiet horror of the staff. "A fine hunter you are, then let us bag a lion then! I want to take it back with me to mount on the wall of the Karhold!"

It was an intriguing notion hunting such a fine, majestic creature. A worthy enterprise for them, but his shoulders slouched. "I would love that challenge, but they are all but extinct in these lands." The fact of impossibility didn't matter to them as soon the entire room of Northman and valeman were hooked with the notion of bagging a lion. None of them had ever seen such a beast. Now, he was going on a hunt with them to look for this beast. How did that happen? It's the ale. It loosens tongues and increases courage. Though a hunt was better than just dining with his vassals. It gave him something to do.

The night rolled on. Valeman and Northman intermingled in the stuffy tavern with creaky wooden floors. Ser Wendel was chewing on another mutton as Jasper Redfort lay passed out on a table. Albar found the serving girl very interesting, holding her in his lap as she giggled. Eddard poked him on the chest. "You know Jasper," He said informally. "I have a question. When I went to Winterfell, why didn't I see a single Northman fostered with the Starks? Instead, I found only a Greyjoy with them and he did not carry himself like a hostage! Fucking squids. My father says it dishonors the North."

Jasper chilled to the bone. He did not like the implications behind his voice. "Lord Stark is a good man." His reply was more curt. Not that Karstark noticed too deep in his cups.

"We love the Starks! But Winterfell belongs to the North! Not the Sea!"

Jasper nodded his head in agreement. "Winterfell belongs to the North!"

His eyes went wide as he patted him on the back fiercely. "You understand, I like that! Gods, I love that!" He understood it and it worried him. They are resentful. Resentment was dangerous if left unchecked.

"Mayhaps Lord Stark shall take his head?" Jasper suggested, and Karstark agreed with him. "Do all you Northman believe such?"

"Fuck the squids. Almost as bad as wildings. Any Northerner worth his salt would take his head! "

"Fuck the squids." He raised his voice in agreement, reading the room, which Eddard replied in kind until their voices caused everyone to scream the same words. "FUCK THE SQUIDS!" Northman. Valeman. Westerlands. Riverman. Lord or knight. Everyone screamed the same words until the Gods themselves heard them. If any Ironborn slipped into the room, they would likely have seen those scoundrels hanged from the rapports. Why they were shouting, Jasper didn't quite understand, but it felt like what needed to be done. All the ale in his blood dulled the discomfort of all the eyes upon him. It made it easier to mingle among them. Northman, like Eddard, were fine men. Good hunters and fighters. Plain and honest. They aren't Valeman, but they aren't bad at all. Ser Wendel even followed the Seven.

Still, nothing was better than the noble Vale! We are the best!

Though even drunker than a shit septon, he read the room very well. It would be very popular to see Theon Greyjoy killed, as he predicted. It could aid in the war effort. Men would claim it justice and the right response. Among the Northern Vassals, he imagined they were resentful over his access to the Heir of Winterfell. His death would please them and help his Stark cousins maintain their favor. And it was the correct response to treason. Maybe he could even secure a broad alliance to pressure him to see it done? It was plausible and seemed easy to pull off, and yet Jasper didn't wish to use such means with his uncle.

I only use underhanded methods against my enemies, not kin.

He wanted Lord Stark to come to this realization on his own. Why must you be difficult about this? What blood or honor is gained from this?

It would be in your interest! Jasper thought as he said his farewells and retired back to the stables. Arrow gazed at him with good humor. It would be in the interest of House Stark and House Arryn. He whispered to Arrow, who mocked him with barbs.

"You look stupider than normal." Arrow told him. "Can you even ride?"

"I can ride perfectly well."

"Into a ditch maybe."

He should know better than trying to get the last word in as Arrow snorted with delight. "Cheeky."

Jasper woke up to his Blackfish shaking him awake as his head was pounding like a drum. "Get up!" He barked a command. "You look like shit."

"I was only doing as you suggested and drinking with our Northern friends." It was something he didn't even want to do, unlike the River Lords whom bordered the Vale. It made more sense for him to court them and seek common ground with them. A few fosterings between the Vale and River Lords resulted from his efforts. He even convinced Lord Redfort to wed his youngest daughter to Lyman Darry. Blood and relationships tie us closer and closer together. And it made practical sense by geography the Riverlands were often the battlefield of every conflict in history. Flat lands made for good reason to court the best mounted force in the Seven Kingdoms. And the added manpower the Riverlands provided allowed them to project power across the Seven Kingdoms. They also shared the same gods and were closer culturally than the Northman who historically kept to themselves in the frozen tundra. He struggled to see the point of the time and effort to court the Northman when it would likely pay little for the Vale. But he had already made acceptable headways with the River Lords. It didn't hurt to spend sometime with them and Grand Uncle Brynden thought it a good idea. He's rarely wrong about anything.

Grand Uncle Brynden snorted.

"What is it anyway?" Jasper asked.

The city better be under siege or his wards at the Strangers door.

"Robb Stark arrived this morning."

Jasper nodded awkwardly. "Ah. Yes. Cousin Robb. I'm sure it will thrill Bran to see him." He would have preferred a siege to facing his cousin. No words he had come up with sounded right. Sorry, my mother almost skewered you. You are my cousin. I mean no ill will. It sounded stupid. It was stupid. Cousin Robb would likely laugh. He should laugh at me. If only I could just avoid him, but it wouldn't be good form.

If he could just find the right words...

He gazed up at his grand uncle. "What do you think I should do?"

"Apologize and move on." His gruff reply. "There is no perfect reply." It wasn't what he wanted to hear. "Just be honest Jasper, it's all you can do."

"And if it's not enough?"

"I'm sure Cats boy shall forgive you, and if not, it's well within his right not too."

Jasper smiled weakly. "I wish it were otherwise." A hint of bitterness in his voice. "But thank you ser I can always count on you to give the right advice."

Authors note: The next update will be a bit, cause I finished this chapter before the previous one. Next up, we shall see Robb Stark arriving along with Theon Greyjoy. Yep, the sweep the leg line was a Karate Kid reference. We are getting closer and closer to the end of the act. Another 2 chapters to wrap up the Reach /Westerlands. Then we shall do a Ladies of Westeros tour cause I feel a bit bad we haven't seen Cat, Marg, Myrcella, Sansa, Arya, Brienne in quite a while. Then one big Iron Island invasion chapter! Thats pretty much my rough outline. As always I like seeing the reviews! Helps with the writing process!

Guest: Could be! I hope it is too!

Juristen: Well, I think both Ned/Jasper have a point in their own ways. Jasper is certainly right in my view Stannis and his line are threats that Neds worldview refuses to allow him to see. But it certainly would be seen badly to strip Stannis of a title for doing nothing wrong. I think I would side with Jasper though if it came down to it. But Ned is in charge so he makes these big choices. I think one big mistake authors often do is have their OC automatically convince a character to their point of view, when it makes no sense for them to do so. So I thought Ned wouldn't do it.

ATP: I'm glad you think I'm great! If you like that idea, I have a few other curveballs for you!

Freedmoon: Well, isn't it nice to see your review again! I'm less excited about ASOIAF, but more driven to finish this project. I hate leaving anything unfinished. I had several differnt endings for Renly. Renly has had many differnt endings in some of my drafts. In my very first rough, rough sketch I had Renly/Ned launch a coup against the Lannister Regime only for Renly to stab Ned in the back and declare himself King. He was the first candidate I had in mind to do the repeat of history where the Iron Throne tells him to give up his wards. But by that point, I considered keeping Renly alive, but a crippled hostage in Kings Landing, but my big problem with that was Brienne cause I couldn't figure out a single way Brienne could reaslitcally get Renly out of the cage, a depressed sucidal Renly, escape a camp of Lannisters without Brienne dying in a heroic escape attempt. I also thought it would be nice to have Brienne parrel Jaime a little bit and become a Liege slayer.

Yep, you nailed it on the head! Thats exactly what happened between Ned/Jasper. But there is another element in that Jasper doesn't want to break up his family or his idea of what his family looks like any further cause in his mind Robert is his brother. But the main reason is as you say. As for Myrcella and the birth we'll have to see what happens with that. Maybe I'll kill her! Maybe she shall give birth to triplet hunchbacks! No idea. But realistically aye the Vale is one of the best places for her to give birth and her stress levels are okay, but I think she is stressed knowing her husband and brother are on a military campaign. But not as stressed as in KL where she worried about Joffrey or her mother.

Yeah, no one mentions the name Harry cause Jasper hates him so much. Jasper would burn the Vale to the ground before he ever had Harry as his heir. It really is like Tywin/Tyrion. I'm glad you still enjoy the story still! Hopefully I continue this whole way through!