Chapter 8 – November 30th 2019

The president spoke, and his supporters roared.

"We had them here in the Whitehouse, a little while ago. The people from Westeros, and I gotta say, they're a terrific bunch of guys. Just terrific. They brought me the wishes of King Stannis, and we like Stannis. We really do. He's a terrific guy, the new king. He let us in through the Ring, and we're good friends now! So we like Stannis. He's a great guy.

He sent his ambassadors to us. The ambassador, his brother. He's Erren Florent. He's a knight, like in old times. He came in all dressed up in armour, very impressive. There was a fox on it. It's the symbol of his house, of house Florent. I told him, this is America, our symbol is an eagle. I think they eat foxes, but we won't eat you, that's ok. He laughed, he really did. He's a great ambassador.

Then there were these other guys. There was a prince! We had a prince in the Whitehouse. O'beryn Martell. A great guy. He came all dressed in red, with this big spear, and I asked him – you ever killed anyone with that spear? And he said, of course I have Mr. President. What else do you do with a spear? And he's got a point, doesn't he? And I asked what his symbol is, and he said - it's the spear! And I mean, of course it is. He was telling me about where he comes from. From a place called Dawn, just a beautiful place. Really beautiful. He said they fought dragons there, a long time ago, and they won! They won against the dragons. And I said, that's most impressive. I would like to see a dragon you know. And he said, I'm sorry Mr. President. I said, why are you sorry? And he said – because we killed all the dragons!

And there was this other guy. I think his name was…Steven? Steven Frey? And he's another knight. He brought us a great gift, a really terrific gift. He brought us a giant's skull. I mean, its actually a giant's skull. The skull of a giant. We heard that the Australians have one. They got it as a gift, and we thought boy, that would be a great gift. So they brought us one as well. Its been sitting in their castle for a thousand years. And this thing is just huge, you know? These giants, they must have been like fifty feet tall. I mean its just unbelievable. And I've got the skull now. Its sitting on my desk. No one else has got a giant's skull sitting on their desk, do they?

So they were a terrific bunch of guys, we really like them, we're good friends now. And they said to me, Mr. President. We need your help. They said, we've heard, that you're the greatest man, the most powerful man in the world, the absolute best man. And I thought, well yeah, you're not wrong. They're not wrong, are they?

And they said, Mr. President, we need your help. We want to bring peace to Westeros. But we can't, because there's some bad people. There's some bad people in Westeros. There's these people called the Lannisters, and we know they're bad people. We've met them before. Remember, actually, they killed a man. They killed a marine, when we were last there. You remember his name? His name was Josh White, and they killed him, with an arrow. A marine, killed with an arrow! Who can believe it? But there were like a million arrows and one of them killed a marine, and its very sad.

And I thought, you know what, you're right. They're very bad people, and you know what else? They don't respect us. They don't know who they're messing with. You don't mess with America. No one messes with America. So you know what? We're gonna show them what happens. What happens when you mess with America.

So these bad people. They're at a castle in Westeros. Its called Harren's Hall. They're in this castle, and it's a great big castle, with great big walls. And you know me, right? I like my walls. But these are really big walls, even bigger than my wall, and that's a big wall, believe me. So anyway, you've got this big castle with these big walls and there's bad people inside it, and they're surrounded. They're surrounded by good people. There's an army of good people outside, outside the walls. But the walls are so high its like, they can't get inside. They can't get to the bad people. So they're just sitting out there, and they've been sitting there for months and they can't get inside.

So I'm thinking, we need to teach these bad people some respect. We need to show them that you can't mess with America like this. If you mess with us, we're gonna mess back. That's just how it is. We need to teach them some respect. So what we're gonna do. You know what we're gonna do?

That's right. We're gonna blow up the wall!"

######

The 16th day of April, 299 years after Aegon's Conquest

Colonel Taylor stepped off the Black Hawk and headed off into the Westerosi camp.

Maybe fifteen thousand men made up the besieging army. Nominally they were sworn to King Stannis, but the flaming stag was scarce in evidence. Instead the Stark Direwolf flew everywhere, except above the command tent, where a naked pink man flapped in the breeze instead. Pray tell me they aren't still skinning people alive he thought grimly.

Northern warriors stood aside reverently as the American delegation passed by, pointing and staring. A handful of observers had been with the army already, both American and Australian, but now was a time for more active participation. A major saluted him and led him to the main tent. He sounded apologetic, saying something about leeches. Taylor frowned. Inside they found a cluster of Northern lords, knights and other highborn. At their centre a man lay naked on a table. A dozen little black leeches were indeed scattered all over his body. Taylor paused. The Westerosi had been in the middle of some sort of discussion, but now turned to face them. He looked at the naked man.

"Lord Bolton?"

"Yes?" the man replied, very softly.

"I come at the command of the President of the United States, Donald Trump, my lord."

"Indeed" the naked man replied.

Taylor paused.

"I come as a courtesy my lord. Should I come back later, when you are dressed?"

"No, I shall receive you now" lord Bolton replied.

Taylor glanced again at the major, who gave a tiny shrug.

"Very well, my lord. I come to say that our president has met with the envoys of King Stannis. He wishes to answer their calls for help."

"We are thankful. What help does the president offer?"

"The siege here has lasted more than three months without result. As a gift to your king, the president will breach the walls of Harrenhal, so your men can enter."

There were gasps from some of the Northern lords. Roose Bolton himself seemed unperturbed.

"The walls of Harrenhal are tall and strong" he said simply. "How are they to be breached?"

"By aircraft, my lord. I can show you how and where."

He took a few steps forward. Roose Bolton lay on a sort of wooden cot. Beside it was a table. Some servants rapidly cleared it of quill, ink and other paraphernalia. Colonel Taylor unfolded a large aerial photograph, covering both Harrenhal and most of the Northern camp around it, taken just the day before. Even Lord Bolton sat up to look as he pulled out a marker and began annotating it.

"A B-2 Spirit bomber will drop a GBU-57 Massive Ordnance Penetrator. We propose dropping it at this point" he marked it on the photo "at the north-eastern corner, some distance from your camp. It will breach the walls, and your men can pour through the gap within a few minutes…" He spent some time explaining the specifics.

Lord Bolton's face continued to betray little emotion. "When will this breach occur?"

"Would dawn tomorrow be too soon, my lord?"

"No, that would serve perfectly. This siege is become rather tedious."

There was enthusiasm at this presentation. Several of the Northern lords were staring at them in awe, but others were murmuring among themselves. "If the walls are breached ser, what use is Harrenhal as a fortress?" asked a fat knight bearing a mermen sigil.

Colonel Taylor frowned. "I cannot answer that question my lord. It would be for others to decide, but I imagine walls can be repaired." He turned back to Lord Bolton. "My lord, please make sure none of your men are within five hundred yards of the breach before it occurs" he cautioned.

"Very well, ser" Lord Bolton replied.

"Five hundred yards?" asked another lord with a battleaxe on his surcoat. "What will happen to them within five hundred yards?"

"They may die, my lord" Taylor replied simply.

######

Ser Amory Lorch patrolled the battlements, as he had taken to doing each night. His squire and a handful of men-at-arms came with him. Reliable men, unlike Vargo's sellsword scum.

Lord Serrett still held the command, but things inside the castle had grown more tense as of late. Three months and there had been no relief. A few ravens had evaded the Northerner's arrows, but had only brought bad and worse tidings. King Joffrey was dead, then the High Septon. Tommen was missing. Tywin had been driven from King's Landing and proclaimed Myrcella queen at the Rock. The faith had reconstituted in Oldtown and declared a holy war on the flying men and the red god both.

Even with a thousand men inside, supplies remained plentiful. They had burned the land for miles around before the siege and seized everything even remotely edible. Herds of sheep and cattle grazed in the Godswood, while the stables were full of pigs. They might well have lasted until winter. Still, with no relief in sight, tempers were flaring. A brawl just two nights earlier had seen two Lannister guardsmen and a Brave Companion killed. Two more sellswords had been hung over the Gatehouse in response. Vargo Hoat had been greatly wroth, and Lord Serrett had instructed Amory to keep a close watch on his men since. All it would take is one traitor opening up a postern gate, and they would all be doomed.

Another flying machine had landed beyond the army outside the previous afternoon. At first the men had been astonished by the sight. Some had even called for surrender, before Ser Amory had ordered one coward's tongue cut out. The machines had come and gone several times in the weeks since, without incident, to the point the garrison now quite ignored them. If the flying men were coming for them, surely it would have happened by now.

He walked around the immense castle thrice that night, taking a few hours each time. The sentries stood in quartets, perhaps fifty or a hundred feet apart, with no more than one of each group being a sellsword, to ensure everyone was watched. More men held the gates below, while perhaps half slept in the towers, ate in the kitchens, trained in the yard or otherwise found some way to pass the monotony of siege.

The night started cloudy but cleared as it went on. Come dawn, the eastern sky turned its usual crimson. Ser Amory turned to watch as the sun's red disk peaked over the horizon. His feet ached. Already he was thinking of the supper they would be preparing in the kitchens, his flower bed in the Kingspyre and that whore girl from the buttery, Pia, that he had claimed for himself. Pretty Pia…when in a generous mood he had even shared her with some of his favoured underlings.

The disk emerged in full. Below, he could see movement in the Northern camp. There were always men coming and going, but what he noticed now was unusual. Hundreds were emerging from their tents, armour donned and bearing steel, dressed for battle. Some of the tents had disappeared since yesterday too, those nearer the walls. Curious. Ser Amory looked down, confused. What battle would they be fighting? The walls of Harrenhal were over a hundred feet tall. Lord Bolton had taken to building some siege equipment, but only a handful of rams and some very long, thick ladders had been the result. No, an assault would be folly. Perhaps an attack from outside? Could Lord Tywin's host be approaching from the west, even now?

Ser Amory was just about to send his squire off to wake Lord Serrett and Vargo when there was a sound. It started off as a low rumble, like distant thunder. He looked about, even more confused. The skies were clear. It had been a week since the last rain. But the sound continued. The rumble grew, but the pitch was changing. There was a screeching sound, like the largest eagle in the world coming in to swoop. At that point, Ser Amory looked up.

He saw the shape, midnight black against the pale pink sky. For one wild moment he thought of a bat. The castle was infested with them. But this was the largest bat in the world. A bat the size of a dragon. It roared overhead, shaking the stones on which he stood. Men were pointing. Some were yelling in terror. Had the Stranger itself taken flight? He didn't need to send a messenger. The whole castle would be awake in an instant.

The bat-shape flew past. Men braced themselves. For a long moment nothing seemed to happen. But no sooner had the rumble started to fade then another sound replaced it. This one higher in pitch, like the wind whistling through cracks in the stonework. The sound grew, and grew, and grew. Men looked around, wondering at its source. Finally, his squire pointed upwards. Ser Amory followed his finger.

Another shape was above them, like a long black sausage, falling from the sky. Some distant part of his mind made note of the fact that it was plummeting right towards them. Others had already started to run, but for some reason Ser Amory stood there, rooted to the spot. The urge to flee grew overwhelming, an instinct so strong it was almost painful, but still he ignored it. Somehow, his thoughts were elsewhere. He saw a red castle. He remembered scaling its walls. A child's screams. Stones running red with blood. He saw other children, heard other screams. He saw villages burning. He heard a splash at the bottom of a well. Was this his reckoning? The Father's judgement? Was the Stranger coming for him after all?

Ser Amory had these thoughts as he watched the strange apparition fall. It didn't come to land right on his head. The world was not so comical. Instead it descended towards the base of the wall, only a few steps over from where he stood. He had the briefest moment to register the impact, still standing there, before the hundred-foot-high mountain of stone on which he stood split open like wet cloth and the manticore knight knew no more.