A/N: the 'Eddard in Essos' arc is done, now comes the 'Eddard the Impaler' arc.
A/N: concerning the earlier chapter where it clearly states that Catelyn is in fact Robert's WIFE, I would have rewritten and retconned that part if she had won, it had yet to be a major part of the story as a whole and the changes would be minimal.
A/N: I really Liked the Character of "Locke" in the Game of Thrones show (as portrayed by Noah Taylor) very much, he took me by surprise with his acting, this was the guy who often played goofballs in films and tv, yet here he was scary as shit, I looked up his character name and all I found was "Locke" it isn't explicitly stated if his a member of the house of Locke or if his a high born (Roose offers him a holdfast if he found Bran beyond the wall, so I'm assuming he doesn't already have a holdfast), so for the purpose of this fic, his is just that, a commoner named Locke.
A/N: to clarify:
the Fist.
10 legionnaires = 1 pack
10 packs = 1 century, led by a Centurions
10 centuries = 1 cohort, led by a war bosses
2 cohorts = 1 Legion, led by a War Lords
all detachments don't have their own numbered units as they are dispatched by the amount they are needed, as determined by the a Warlord or anyone of higher rank.
all assets and inventory of the Fist are under the direct the Fist if the King.
the Hand.
20 Laborers = 1 Yoke, lead by a head yokes
20 Yokes = 1 Herd, lead by a field managers.
all field managers are lead by the Work boss, Iggar Bolton.
Westeros, the North, Coldhorn Village, 281AC.
It had taken them three days to reach the village, reports of wildlings roaming the lands of the Boltons had come from surrounding villages, one after the other they came, and a pattern had been seen in their attacks, the wildlings had started from the border they shared with Lasthearth and moved across their lands hitting every settlement they came upon.
It was not surprising that the Umbers did not warn them of the wildlings before they crossed over to their lands, after all, why would they, it's no longer their problem and they themselves had few men to spare, winter was coming and whoever or whatever wasn't prepared for it was on borrowed time.
This wasn't even news, wildlings often exiled their own when winter came if they were old or injured or invalid, it was a necessary sacrifice. If they were thieves or murderers, however, it was punishment, it doesn't take a maester to guess which kind managed to scale the wall and arrive south of it.
This was why forty Bolton men were now galloping towards Coldhorn village, if they could catch up to the wildlings before they raided the village, they would be fighting a fatigued foe, if not, then they'd find the rotting remains of another raided village, and fed and fortified enemy.
"I can see the edge of the tree line!" Locke shouted from the front of them, even at such a young age he was the best tracker the Dreadfort ever had, he was the one to find the wildling's pattern of movement and deduced where they would be.
"Northmen! Get ready to defend yourselves!" Morton, the leader shouted as he unsheathed his sword, digging his spurs deeper into his horse to make it go faster.
They explode out of the forest and into an open field, screaming like madmen to shock their enemies, their eyes dart left and right frantically searching for any signs of an attack, smoke, screams, or scattering people, yet to their surprise, they were met with wide-eyed villagers, who dropped what they're doing and raced to the center of the village.
"Stop!" Morton shouted, and all forty of his men came to a halt, they turned to look closer and saw nothing that indicated that there was any wildling activity, soon screaming could be heard from the village as men started showing up to the edge of the village carrying pitchforks, axes, and shovels.
"Where are the wildlings Locke?" one of the men asked indignantly to the boy.
"You fucked up now you little shite!" another added.
"They should be here, there isn't another village for miles" Locke tried to keep his panic hidden as he answered,
"Be quiet!" Morton said, turning to eye both men, the men lowered their gaze at the abolishment "Sheath your swords" Mortin added and they complied.
"Wait here" Morton ordered as he rode forward with his hands raised when he came close to the villagers he dismounted and shouted, "I am Morton, the man at arms to House Bolton, I wish you all no harm!"
A man walked forward and stopped a few feet away from Morton, he still held an axe with both hands and the men behind him seemed to be ready to jump in, "My name's Karl" the man introduced himself, "You're Lord Bolton's men?"
"Aye" Morton answered "here to cut down wildlings that have been raiding the Lord's lands, you haven't seen any have you?"
"Haven't seen any wildlings around" Karl answered, his grip on his axe was loosening and his shoulder seemed to be more relaxed "but we did have dealings with a rich Lordling, came through here a day ago"
"Lordling?"
"Aye" he lowered his axe and motioned to follow him, "come to the village, I'll show you"
Morton gestured for his man to dismount and follow him, he then followed Karl, the men dismounted and led their horses to Locke.
"Here boy!" One of the men said, roughly passing the reins to Locke "don't lose them"
"Wait! I'm coming too" Locke protested, but then he was backhanded to the ground by another man, the men laughed and brought their horses to Locke, haphazardly throwing him the reins, then they continued to laugh as they followed Morton into the village, if Morton heard them he did not react.
Locke spat out the blood in his mouth, and panted as he dutifully led the horses near something to tie them on, he had tied the horses one by one to fences and made sure they were near grass, he sighs deeply at his predicament, Locke was a common stable boy, he had grown up in the forest as a child and loved to wander around it, this was what made him into an excellent tracker.
He could not read or count but he could spot where an animal had trotted or a man had traveled, even now when he looked at the ground he could tell that villagers were about done with the harvest, the wheat was cut, bound, and hung upside down, on racks made especially for them, he saw the newly built storehouses and barns for the animals, he could tell all these things "but I can't find any wildling" he said to himself.
"Maybe their hiding somewhere, caves most likely" he thought, "perhaps I should ask if there are any caves nearby" a smile appeared on his face, as he moves to walk into the village, he heard a sound, a faint sound that echoed all around him, making it hard for him to tell where it came from, "Crows?"
He looked up at the dark skies already fat with snow, then he saw a single crow fly above him and into the forest, then he looked closer and saw that there was a whole murder of them circling something, wondering why he and the rest of the men didn't hear or see them, he realized "they were eating something and then they were disturbed by something else" he frowned at the thought as he realized what could be harassing crows for their meal.
"Wolves"
He untied a horse and rode it carefully to where the crows circled, Locke was seven and ten, yet he was as short as a child, he barely ate his fill when he was living with his father, an angry man, crippled in a war that no one seemed to remember if it happened, he spends his time beating his wife and son for how the gods had cursed him, Locke's mother had gone into the forest one night and never returned, his father didn't even notice until three days later when he was hungry and shouted for her, but she never came,
Locke however, knew the forest and found his mother with little effort, she lied half-eaten and rotting yet her untouched face look peaceful, that was the last time Locke returned to his home, instead he went into the Dreadfort, where he told Morton the man at arms that his father had murdered her, his father denied it, even as his feet stopped trashing and he hung there with his tongue out and his face pale, Locke knew what really happened though, the old dried blood on the ground and the fact that her arms and legs weren't eaten meant that she was she already dead long before something else found her.
Now he was a stable boy for the Lord of the Dreadfort, he distinguished himself with his tracking ability and he was rewarded for it, something the other men in the Lord's service found irritating, so he had to work harder than the rest of them, "I will not be a twisted wretch like my father nor will I lose hope like my mother, I will be better than all of them", he said it in the depths of his heart where no one could hurt him with it.
Meanwhile in the village…
"They came from the forest, from the east" Karl said as spoke to Morton as he walked to his house, "there were five of them, they bought ten horses and two carts and went back where they came"
"What did they look like?" Morton asked, "were they carrying a sigil or a banner?"
"No, but they wore big thick animal cloaks, but they were finely made not like what the wildlings wear, three of them were black as pitch too"
"Their cloaks?"
"Their skin" Karl corrected, he led him into his home, and gave him a cup of wine "never seen a black man before, it was like he was covered in soot"
"Foreigners then, Essosi folk most likely" Morton said sipping the wine "what else did they do here"
"All they did was buy the carts and the horses" Karl answered, "was afraid to haggle with them, I didn't want any trouble from noble folk, so I sold it to them for how much I paid for them when I bought them" Karl finishes, not mentioning that the strangers paid double the amount, "no need for them to know about it" he reasoned in his head.
"What else can you say about them?" Morton pressed.
"will like I said, expensive-looking cloaks, two were made from bearskin while the other two were made of wolf fur, they carried these huge axes, and they're taller than those Andal folk from the south" Karl described the strangers by waving his hand above his head "all of them except a boy"
"a boy?"
"aye, he was their master looks like, he wore a green cloak with a wolf inside a bush of thorns, he did all the talking" Karl nodded to his own words "seemed to be the a noble himself, by the way, he talks and orders the tall men around by flapping his hands, handsome too if you asked any of the girls in this village"
suddenly the sound of a horse galloping just outside the door interrupts their speaking, Morton stands with his hand on his sword and opens the door, he draws his weapon and sees the boy tracker Locke, wide-eyed and sweating.
"what the hell are you doing boy!?" Morton shouted, Locke was breathing hard, from out of the corner of Morton's eye he saw his men gather around Locke from wherever they were loitering.
"the wildling!" Locke said between gasps "I found them!"
"where?" Morton asked, looking at the treeline for any movement
"in the forest?" Locked said as he turned his horse around "we must hurry!"
"stupid boy" one of the men accused "you let them see you"
"no, not like that" Locke answered trotting towards the rest of the horses "the wolves might have carried them off already"
Morton and his men looked at each other at Locke's words
moments later…
the stench of death was not potent as the cold weather kept the corpses relatively preserved, but it was there, like an invisible mist of miasma that lingered in the air, the ground was frozen solid and the thin blanket of snow gave off the image of an ordinary forest if it weren't for the smell and the numerous hands and heads scattered like fallen fruits,
"There are bodies all around the place, they were attacked when they were sitting at the campfire... and then the wolves came" Locke directed his companion's gazes to where corpses lie hidden beneath the snow. the mangled figures of men jutted out from the snow like twigs, all of them had missing bits from them as the wolves ate their fill, "their attackers came from all directions and started hacking them to pieces"
"Perhaps those wildlings came upon the foreigners and were overwhelmed," Morton said as he drank in the sight that lay before him, twenty wildling corpses lied haphazardly around a burnt-out campfire.
"Bad luck for them" one man from the group said as he shivered from the cold "Good for us though"
"Aye" Morton stood up and took one of the wildling heads and tossed it at one of the men who then placed it in a sack tied to his saddle, "take all their heads, Lord Bolton will want proof!"
"AYE!" the men yelled in unison.
"Can you tell if there are any survivors?" Morton asked calmly, trying to piece together what happened here.
"all the track lead sought, including the one from the attackers, if there were survivors, It's the Neck's problem now" Locked answered, he approached the campfire, bent down, and started cleaning away the snow, he pointed to five bodies that had their intestines spilled out from their opened stomachs and lied around the campfire "look here, these men seemed to have been the ones leading them and they died first, at the same time"
"How can you tell that?" one of the men asked candidly, disbelieving in Locke's skills "however those fucker were that did this could have arranged them like that after the fight, or the wolves did it" the others started chuckling.
"will?" Morton asked, wanting to know himself.
"Their dressed warmer than the rest, yet they were the closest to the fire, and they all have the same wound, if they died one by one they'd be like the rest of the bodies, scattered around, and panicking" Locke said looking at Morton and continued "the strange thing about it is the rest of the wildling must have been huddled around them when they were killed, whoever killed these men must have gotten past the wildings guarding them first and did it so fast none them could stop him, judging from where they were cut, he did it in one swing"
the men started laughing at the boy, they didn't believe him and they never will, no matter how good he was, in their eyes, he was a boy getting more attention and acclaim from the Lord of the Dreadfort and therefore more rations and his own room.
"as you say Locke" Morton quieted them all "it's no longer our problem, get on your horses! we're done here!"
The men do so and mount their horses, some even searching the bodies for anything of value, when he finished the men waited for Morton to give the order to go home, as did Locke.
"lead the way Locke'' Morton said and gestured for him to the front of the party, Locke looked surprised and stared back at Morton, "you always find the way" Morton said with a smile, the men behind him, however, gave Locke scowls and contemptuous looks. but Locke did not only care and lead them out of the forest smiling all the way.
Westeros, Moat Cailin, 281AC.
The sun had now risen and bathed the land with its orange hue, yet the frost does not yield the ground leaving it a vast sheet of white snow, in the lands between the Neck and the rest of the North, lies the ruined refuse of a once-mighty fortress, any invading army that managed to survive the perils of the Neck would then face the 'Moat in the March', the most defensible location in all of the north that held back invaders from the south for thousands of years.
In its hay day, it boasted high curtain walls that assured no enemy could stem the tide of arrows and oil being rained down upon them from its twenty towers, each tower could attack outside and inside the walls so that even if the moat was breached it would not be beaten, surrounded by deep marshes and tidal pools that not only hides the horrors of the Neck, it also restricts travel, in addition, the flat wide open plains provide unobstructed views of the Neck and the North.
Winterfell may have the highest walls and tallest towers, but it was surrounded by solid ground, on which an army could drag siege engines, dig trenches, make war camps and establish supply lines. Here, there was nowhere to stand that didn't slowly give way, the mud was so soft and slick, it could slow and sink an army of mice, nothing here was dry enough to make a fire, much less keep one going, neither were there places where water could accumulate and become drinkable.
But the worst thing about this place was the insects and their bites. Blistering, bleeding, and burning bites, like a black buzzing fog, they'd gather to anything warm that wanders in the marches. Growing in number at each moment, enveloping and invading every inch of their victims.
"Lucky for you" Howland said as they pulled a sunken boat from out of the many black pools around the Moat, then they started tossing the stones inside it that were used to weigh it down, the front was fashioned into the shape of a Lionlizard head, "you have a crannogman to help in these uncertain times"
"I feel lucky" Willis said as he slapped his neck and grimaced at his empty hand, then he went back to carrying the soggy stinking boat out onto the narrow road, others used buckets found in the ruined fortress to fetch water and wash the mud off the boat, "you sure you don't want an escort?"
"If I knew my father, he'd already know we were here" Howland tied his newly acquired valyrian steel sword to his hip along with his old and well-worn steel sword, "besides, there's no reason he won't be civil, is there?"
"None whatsoever" Willis answered, with that Howland walked out of the ruined gate of the moat accompanied by six heavy infantry soldiers who carried the boat with ease, the only solid footing that existed on the march was an exposed and indefinable road that stretched from the moat to the neck.
Willis looked on as the already small figure of the crannogman became smaller and disappeared into the mangroves of the Neck, then the six soldiers returned and marched back to the Moat.
Moments later…
To any man, the neck would appear as an ever-moving labyrinth, full of winding and weaving passages that entice and ensnare any who did not know where they were going.
There is a certain type of vegetation in the Neck called 'fool's foot' that grew everywhere, it was a sort of water lily, it had the same appearance as a patch of crabgrass and it clung tightly to anything close, it floated above bodies of water and gave it the appearance of a field of grass, it also acts as a nursery to snakeheads, freshwater stingrays, eels, adders, and the infamous LionlizardsLionlizards
Lionlizards were a unique subspecies of crocodile that lived and bred exclusively in the Neck, it's mouth is filled with long sharp serrated teeth that grasped prey items much like a crocodile but unlike its cousins, they're hollow and had venom sack attached to the eight front-most teeth, it had long bony protrusions on its back, coupled with its the black-green color it was perfectly camouflaged as a piece of driftwood, it's ambush strategy was similar to its reptilian cousins except they don't hold on to their prey as their venom would do most of the work.
Another trait not shared by crocodiles is its inability to move on land due to its limbs being more fins than feet, so climbing out onto solid ground is the only means of escape, but then there are few solid grounds in the Neck.
The only safe way to traverse the neck was by boat or raft, that is why crannogmen hide them in various location and marked them with specially placed stones or sticks, markings that would be changed to indicate it was in use, as a rule of thumb if you were to you use any one of the boats it's seen as good manners to return them once they were no longer needed and an offering be given to the owner as a sign of gratitude.
It did not take long for Howland to be found by Crannogmen patrolling the swamps, Howland knew what to say and how to say it, soon after he was escorted on another boat to where Greywater watch was moored, it was a small wooden palisade built on a war galley, repairs are constantly made to keep it afloat, it was three stories tall and had several rooms for sleeping eating and washing, it was in actuality a large house bout.
Inside Howland was led to the 'hearth', a circular fire pit with dirt and ash to keep the heat from burning through the floor, his father was there sitting near the fire and cooking two skewered fishes over it, Lord Jojen of House Reed and Lord of the Neck, he had a long greying beard and long greying hair, his features were wrinkled and worn yet his eyes were still sharp.
"Father, I've come home" Howland approached his father, "it's good to see you again"
"Howland" his father spoke rising to embrace his son and clap him on the back, as he did so Jojen felt his son's muscular back through his garments, he hid his shock will enough "you look well fed"
Howland smiled and hugged his father back "you could look better"
Jojen chuckled as they broke the embrace, they sat in front of each other, Jojen offered one of the fishes to Howland and he took it with a nod of thanks "so, is he everything he says he is?
"more, far more" Howland answered as steam shot out from his mouth after taking a bite out from the hot fish "he built a Kingdom in three years during winter, and an army larger than what the North could muster, all from nothing"
"an Essosi Winter" Jojen corrected and Howland conceded with a bow, "How many?"
"including the green boys and the ones garrisoned at the war camps all around the North of Essos?" Howland looked off into the distance in deep thought and answered "sixty thousand soldiers at most, all armed and armored to the teeth"
"That many?" Jojen hid his surprise again and picked up the other fish he was cooking and took a bite "How is he feeding them all?" he asked as steam shot out from his mouth.
"He makes everyone work in the fortress, every man, woman, and child has his a task and a turn, all day and all night, from dusk till dawn, someone or something is always stirring in the Rose fortress" Howland answered, "the lands In Essos are fertile as the Reach and their winters are not as harsh as it is here"
"where is he getting so many men from" Jojen asked chewing his food and looking at the fire in thought.
"Essos has no shortage of people willing to cross miles of mountains, water and wilderness for shelter and safety, more come every day, more so now that winter is here, most of them are bitter about their lot in life that they Would join the Fist" Howland smirks as he had never seen his father uneasy before, "a year from now, it will a hundred thousand at the pace it's going"
"and what has he been doing with all those willing Essosi?"
"conquering lands North of Essos" Howland took another bite and continued, smiling at what he had helped Eddard accomplish "The Rose fortress was alone on the map, now it's larger than any city in Westeros, and has ten other Fortresses to call on if needed"
"so he is now what he claimed to be in his letters?" Jojen asked finishing his meal and tossing the bones in the fire "it is the second coming of the hungry wolf?"
"ten times over"
"Then am I to assume you didn't come here by your own accord?" Jojen cleaned his teeth with his tongue and rubbed his hands clean, he stares at his son when Howland didn't answer, Howland gave it by shaking his head.
"so what else does King Eddard want from me?" Jojen chuckled a toothy pained chuckle "I don't have any more children"
"he wants you to allow his army through the Neck" Howland said without his smile, though he had no doubts of where his father's loyalty lied, there could still be a possibility of him refusing, and what Eddard would do about it, Jojen stared into the fire with his knuckle under his chin and his elbows on his knees, he could smell the fish in his hands and the coles from when he lit the fire earlier.
"From the south or the North?"
"Both"
"and if I refuse?" Jojen asked standing up and walking to a pitcher on a table and fills two gourds with it.
"he'll set fire to the Neck until the swamps turn to solid earth, and then He'll walk over our bones"
"Any man can make any threat if it suits him" Jojen brought the gourds and passed one to his son, he then takes a sip from his gourd "it would take a year for an army, even one as large as you say, to burn the Neck"
"We've been on a campaign since his coronation" Howland drinks his gourd and continued "he's turned the Company of the Rose into Kingdom built to do one thing, wage war"
"and how long since he was crowned King" Jojen kept the shock from reaching his face.
"Three years and we've been doing nothing but kill and conquer the whole time" Howland furrows his eyebrows at his father, seeing the shock he was trying to hide "the Rose Kingdom's Central Forge melts and molds arms and armor all day every day, new recruits flood the Kingdom and the old ones stream out into far off Warcamps and outposts"
"You've read his letters, Burning the Neck would only be an inconvenience to him" Howland felt sad at his father's attempt at hiding his fear and anger. "I swear it by the Old Gods and the new"
"so be it then" Jojen said without a pause.
"Thank you father" Howland let out a breath he was holding and smiled,
"Enough of that then, tell me about Essos" Jojen said trying to change the subject.
"Hot and hostile, I've not slept a full night since I left" Howland welcomed the distraction "a moon doesn't go by without some Warband or Sellsword company surreptitiously stumbling on one of the War camps, then we have to kill them all so they don't give away our position, then we sack a city along the Border and defend that until another sellsword company comes along"
"I hope he's paying you for your trouble" Jojen said, then Howland pulls out a black sword from his hip and handed it to the Lord of the Neck, it was black from top to tip, highlighting the golden inlays and the hilt fashioned in the image of a serpent coiling around a woman, Jejen unsheathes it and saw the smoky black vanes of "Valyrian steel?"
Howland nodded as he finished his fish and tossed the bones into the fire and dusted his hands, "I call her Vemon"
Westeros, Kingslanding harbor, 281AC.
Being the capital of the seven Kingdoms meant that all manner of merchants and merchandise funneled into Kingslanding, from the cheeses of Pentosh, silks from Lys, dyes from Myr and spices from every corner of Essos, and they were imported here by all manner of ships, from each of those corners, but today marked a very rare occasion.
The Ebbinese seldom come to Kingslanding for the simple fact that no one buys what they sell, though they would buy their whale oil by the barrel at the prices they sell, such an interaction would only benefit the customers, as the cost of sailing from Ibb to Kingslanding would be too costly, no to mention the fact that Westerosi gold is only valuable in Westeros, though they could exchange it in the Iron Bank, however, their ships wouldn't be able to enter beneath and between the titan's legs.
So it was quite a shock when a gigantic pitch-black ship waded through the Blackwater, blue sails baring a rose within a wreath of thorns blotted out the sun, while the waves from its wake lifted the smaller ships so high their mooring ropes nearly snapped, the mast itself was so tall that the tips were taller than the seawalls, it was so big that it could not enter the harbor and instead it kept drifting down the Blackwater and anchored itself just beyond the walls of Kingstanding.
Ten skiffs dropped down to the water and paddled their way to the shore, after depositing its cargo of men and equipment the skiffs returned to the ship where more groups of men were waiting, slowly armored men rode the skiffs to the shore ten at a time, one of the skiffs had horses onboard others had supplies.,
Soon there was a small army amassed and assembled outside the walls of Kingslanding, panic had begun to spread amongst the watchers on the wall, the trumpets sounded in the distance as gold cloaks ran to and from positions along the wall.
elsewhere…
Tywin Lannister was behind his desk within the Hand's chamber, sorting and signing letters and ledgers concerning the Kingdoms of Westeros, it was all the routine ruling.
A gentle knock at the door alerted Tywin, he placed his quill down and listened for the guards to announce the purpose of the interruption.
"My lord Hand!" the guard outside said through the door, "a page here with a message for you, says it's urgent"
"Let him in" Tywin said, he was in a favorable mood today, whether it was the King being bedridden from fever after standing in the night could keep him out of sight or the fact that for once the royal coffers were full, largely due to Aerys no longer indulging in the large feast as he no longer trusts anyone, save his Kingsguard.
The door opened revealing a page wairing the Lannister colors he bowed before him and spoke "there is an urgent matter my Lord, the crown prince has requested the small council to gather in the throne room"
"Very well" was all Tywin said, the page promptly bowed and dismissed himself, Tywin then made his way to the room, his five escorts shadowing him all the way, before Tywin enjoyed walking alone, assured that his reputation was enough to instill fear on any would-be assassin, now with Aerys' growing madness he felt it necessary to be guarded.
Elsewhere…
The news had spread like wildfire, the City of Kingslanding had all been in awe at the arrival of a small army of armored men, leading them was a short-haired man wearing all red, from his doublet to his furred cape which depicted an upside-down red man, he was riding a massive black horse surrounded by men wearing green hooded cloaks with quivers filled with arrows and flanked by tall heavily armored men wearing furred capes and wielding axes, the stomping of their feet was so in sync that it seemed to be one heavy stomp that rattled the ground itself,
The clanking of metal and mesh, steel against stone reverberated all through the city, the spectacle attracted the attention of nobles, Knights, plebs, peasants, merchants, and small folk. all came to gawk and gasp at small parties of soldiers marching up to the Red Keep.
Moments later…
Within the throne room, prince Rheagar sat on the Iron throne, to the right of him sat the hand of King Lord Tywin, to his left stood Varys, Pycill and other greater and lesser lords stood awaiting the stranger who had arrived at the Docks earlier this morning.
The sound of their marching could be heard through the doors, rising as they approached, soon enough the doors were opened and through them a ten tall armored men carrying axes marched in perfect unison beside a red man who seemed to be leading them, behind him trailed a short girl with long hair and olive-skinned, wearing a crimson dress, the man approached the throne while his escorts lined up side by side and rested their axes on the floor, keeping their hands on the Axe's heads.
Varys cleared his throat and spoke, seeing the man in red was waiting to be introduced, "You stand in the presence of Rhaegar of house Targaryan, crown Prince of the Andals, the Royhnar and the First men, Heir to the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realms"
The girl stepped beside Roose and with a sweet voice she loudly announced "by your hospitality, this is Lord Roose of House Bolton, son of Domiron and Alyssine, Hand of the Rose Kingdom, Senior administrator of the Rose legions, and Grand inquisitor"
"Thank you for accepting our invitation, Lord Bolton" prince Rheagar said with a smile, "I have heard so much about your King and his kingdom"
"Thank you, your Grace" Roose answered, bowing slightly, "my King wishes to extend his gratitude for such an honor, so he sent me here to aid in the building of the infrastructure and aid in the protection of the noble families attending the tourney at Harrenhall"
"and how many men have you brought to accomplish your task?" Tywin asked, Rheagar looked annoyed but kept quiet. "Lord Hand?" Tywin added.
"a thousand, Lord Hand" Roose replied, "at no additional cost to the Crown, your Grace" Roose said at Rhaegar's direction.
"That is quite generous and I thank you Lord Bolton" Rheagar said before Tywin could say anything "will your King be attending the Tourney?"
"yes your Grace, he will arrive before the first event occurs"
"speaking of Your king" Rheagar leaned slightly forward "is he or is he not Eddard of House Stark?"
"Yes your Grace" Roose answers calmly. "he wishes to formally reveal himself To the kingdoms of Westeros at the tourney"
"Remarkable" Rheagar said, "to think that he carved his own kingdom from nothing, with only his closest friends to aid him"
"you are most kind, may we speak on the finer points of our arrangement in private?"
"of course, please this way"
Later...
The wall outside the small council's chamber was propped up by three men of the Kingsguard, Ser Gerold Hightower, Prince Lewyn Martell, and Ser Arthur Dane, next to them were five nameless red cloaks of Tywin Lannister, to the opposite side of the wall stood ten tall armored men, the Kingsguard eyed them one by one while the Red cloaks tried not to make eye contact, each of Roose's guards stood taller than the red and white cloaks, except for Lord Commander Gerold who matched their height.
They wore the standard cuirass of the heavy infantry soldier emblazoned with a Rose and wreath of thorns. with the addition of the scale mail sleeves, spiked gauntlets, skirts of steel studded leather strips over chain mail, and steel shin guard with steel plated leather boots, another feature of the attire was the various animal hyde cloaks they wore, five men had bear heads and claws over their shoulders, while three had boars, one had a ram incorporated into his shoulder guard, while the last had a white lion adorning the top of his helmet, its fangs were so long the tips reached past his chin while hiding the steel helmet that the other nine wore.
Gerold Locked eyes with the one wearing a lion on his head suspecting him to be the leader of his retinue, he had black skin that contrasted with the white fur of the lion on his head, the man's eyes were brown and he had two parallel scars that started under his jaw and up to his left eye, the soldier notices this and returns Gerold's stare, Gerold did not show fear and kept his gaze.
"Where do you hail from, sir?" Arthur's voice suddenly rang out breaking the building tension in the air of silence, everyone in the room looked at Arthur who was looking at the soldier with the lion's head, while the Rose soldiers didn't react, Gerold only moved his eyes to his comrade.
The question was directed at the soldiers but they ignore it, they kept their watch, and the soldier with the lion's head kept his unbroken stare with Gerold, off to the side the forgotten red cloaks swallowed loudly as they themselves were now under the heavy gaze of the armored men, Arthur was about to ask again thinking that he could relieve the tension, he would always use diplomacy as it often garnered the most results, even madmen liked to talk, keep a man talking long enough and he'll eventually speak the truth, even these men could talk if Arthur said the right things, but as he thought of something to say he realized he himself was being eyed by one of the soldiers with a bear hyde cloak, he was a fare and freckled man with red hair that peeked out from his chin strap and pale blue eyes of an andal "you look Westerosi" Arthur tried but the man simple stared on.
"If you keep staring at me like that I might take it as an insult" Prince Lewyn said threateningly as he was being stared at by the soldier with a ram's head over his left shoulder, he was given no response and so Lewyn placed a hand on his word, only to be stopped by Gerold's hand, Lewyn looked at his Lord Commander but he kept his eyes fixed on the Lion's head soldier, Lewyn wordlessly dropped his hand and stared daggers at the Ram's head soldier who didn't react to his outburst and continued to stare, he knew what his Lord commander meant, they were just testing them, the Kingsguard had to do their duty and stand watch over the royal family, everything else, their safety, their opinion, their honor, was secondary, and so Lewyn kept watch as the armored soldiers stared on unflinchingly.
[we're here to make allies, not enemies] a sweet and soft voice cut through the tension, for a moment kingsguard and red cloaks looked to where the voice came from and realized that they bad forgotten about the girl who accompanied Roose.
the Rose soldiers all looked down unto their feet and seemed to relax their shoulders. Gerald notices this and wonder "what did you say to them?"
she looked at the Kingsguard and smiled at him, "I said 'the king would be very upset if they were rude to his friends', forgive them my lords, they are nervous"
"what are they nervous about?" Arthur asked, he wondered where the girl was from, "if I may ask, Lady?"
"Lerina, and I am no Lady" she said, her smile faded as she continued " they're nervous because our King is a values his friends greatly, so he has commanded that if his Hand doesn't leave the capital..."
as she says this all the soldiers slowly raise their heads and glared at the Kingsguard again, they weren't furrowed or furious eyes, they were focused, Lerina continued "then no one leave the Capital"
"was that a threat?" Lywen said looking at the girl now
Lerina smiled again and said with her sweetest voice "that's up to you my lord"
Lywen clinched his jaw at the remark, he turns away from the girl and realizes the Ram's head soldier was staring at him again, Lywen clinched his jaw harder at the insult.
Inside the small council's chamber...
"The laborers will begin construction immediately upon arrival" Roose said, the terms had been finalized and approved, the Rose Laborers would help build the stations, stans, stages, pits, and pavilions, while the Rose Legionnaires would ensure that the King's peace is kept, however, this authority was to be granted only by the King of Westeros, the Lords, Nobles and Knights of the realm would govern themselves and not by the foreigner forces, so as to not cause unnecessary discontent, "if that is all your Grace, my Lords, I will send word to the men outside to begin the march to Harrenhall"
"yes, but would you please stay a bit Longer in the capital" Rhaegar said, as the Council members were beginning to stand from their seats, "I would like to speak to you about your King"
"I would be honored to, your Grace" Roose said
A/N: Cercie has won, the original Stark children are hereby null and void.
A/N: I had written a part here where Eddard had finally reached Winterfell but cut it, I will instead write a POV chapter for him next chapter.