The mere size of the incomplete castle gave Ignotus pause.

Of course, there was no man in the Riverlands who had not heard word of the monstrous seat the Iron King Harren had been constructing off the back of rivermen slaves, but it had been easy to picture just another castle, perhaps bigger than most - rising close to the shore of the Gods Eye, but watching it from the back of spears and pikes, he felt that all the whispers of how big this Harrenhal did it no justice at all.

The seat of the Hoare King was clearly built with scale in mind; its colossal curtain walls were sheer and high as any mountain cliffs Ignotus has ever seen, its towers - or, at least, the three built before the war had begun, seemed to reach to the heavens themselves and cast shadows that Ignotus was sure would eclipse their camp when they prepared for a siege.

There were already tents some ways away, and he spotted banners from many a lord there, the Darklyns, Rosbys and Stokeworths primarily, as the rider Lord Vance had sent promised... and even his own golden trident, no doubt conjured by Percival - his master-at-arms - who had part of the van lead by Lord Patrek. A frown marring his face, he wondered if his father by law had come himself or had sent his sons.

"What foolery is this?" Caldron Codd muttered in bewilderment to his left, and his surprise sounded genuine. It had to be his first time seeing it too, and that made Ignotus wonder if the man had truly taken himself to Harren Hoare.

Ignotus had purposefully kept him close through the march south, watching him closely through the Red Fork and Stone Hedge, having his own men work as spies in an attempt to find out if he had truly betrayed their cause long before joining them in Fieldstone. But his men had reported nothing, and the Lord of Codd himself had given no signs of disloyalty, even subtly.

'Though All Men Do Despise Us,' Ignotus found himself remembering the Codds words, and could not help but feel like he was unjustly treating a loyal vassal with suspicion. And for what? A late arrival?

He was inclined to stop probing the man, and have his men stop seeking any clues as to any dissent, but... That would be foolish, and he was quick to realize it. Ignotus had found nothing to point to a betrayal of their cause, but that did not mean that it didn't exist. The ironborn were a queer sort, and after what had happened to Jeyne, he would be an utter ass to let him go about unmonitored.

He had no choice but to keep watching.

Darklyn outriders came to spy them and their banners and thereafter led portions of their army - which now numbered close to seventeen thousand, after being reinforced by the men of Lord Whalen Goodbrook, a Bannerman of the Brackens, who had kept his army garrisoned at his seat as it was the closest castle to Harrenhal - to spots of open land and even towards the occupied Harrentown, where tents were being erected and fires started by their arriving party.

Ignotus was happy to see that the Darklyns had not been idle. Siege engines already lined the hill in the midst of their camp, a shadow cast to them by the towers of the castle. Some mangonels were stationed, trebuchets - one of great size, likely made to attempt to counter the thick walls of the large castle - and there was a ram too, one large with wheels large enough to cast a shadow over a man on horseback.

Percival was the man there to guide the men with Ignotus to camp, and Ignotus dismounted near the master-at-arms as a squire came to tend to his horse.

"You should have one for yourself, my lord," Percival greeted, and when Ignotus raised an eyebrow, he nodded to the boy, "A squire, to mind your armour and sword, and tend your horse, as he does."

"I'll see to it...At some point," He shrugged. He had not thought of it at all. There was so much going on at all times, he didn't find it too much a bother to tend to his own belongings.

"As you say," The older man regarded Ignotus with amusement, "How was the march for you?"

"I spent nearly every moment wondering if we would have riders bring us word that you had engaged an army," He sighed, turning back to that camp, "And things here? What say the Darklyns?"

Percival shifted, "Ah, he thought it prudent to wait for you before a parlay, as you do represent the rivermen in the war."

"I see," Ignotus nodded, removing a glove from his hand and taking a glance once more at Harrenhal, "Best I see to my good father then, before I hail the ironborn king."

"As you say, my lord, but you best know something," Percival interjected, "He expressed gra -"

"Where is that son of a whore?!" Came a voice full of wroth, and Ignotus cringed upon recognising it.

He came towards them with a visible snarl, pushing down soldiers in his path without a care - his fuming, dark eyes that reminded him so much of Jeyne conveying nothing but contempt. Ser Jon Darklyn was the second son of Robert Darklyn, his hair was a lighter shade of brown than his sister Jeyne, but they shared the same eyes. He was of an age with Ignotus, though Ignotus was taller than him by an inch.

"You dare show your face here, after you had my sister raped?" He had stopped his march forward, and for that Ignotus was grateful. He didn't need this here. Yet, his words filled an anger in him that he fought to suppress.

"Had?" he regarded Jon Darklyn coolly. "I will take responsibility for what happened to her, but if you insinuate that I had her raped, then you're a bigger fool than I've ever believed you to be."

"Fool, is it?" Jon spat towards Ignotus before drawing his sword, but before he could even stalk towards him, there were men in the Teague colours there, half a dozen tridents and swords, but then too, there were some Darklyn men who had followed their younger charge and were looking to protect him with their own steel, drawing on their own swords with collectively.

"Put down your away," Ignotus ordered as calmly as he could muster, even as more and more of his own men seemed to appear, and they obeyed silently, but did not stray from their position between Jon Darklyn and him.

"Are you so weak that you would not defend yourself?" Jon questioned, a confused looking merging with his scowl.

"I beg your forgiveness for not being able to protect Jeyne when she needed me. That failure will haunt me for the rest of my days. But I am not your enemy," he turned to the shade casting castle, "Your enemy lies there, as do her rapers. Your steel would be better served bringing them to justice than using it on your own good brother. Or would you sooner have me dead than see them undone?"

The other man returned his stare with a venomous glare, but, he did not move towards Ignotus again and instead sheathed his sword, "My tolerance of you will only extend as far as this war. When it's over -"

"What will you do, Jon? Kill your own countryman and worse, the husband of your sister?" This voice was far more soft-spoken, and Ignotus recognized it too with a frown.

Ser Rolland Darklyns hair was almost golden, and he seemed an inch taller than Ignotus. Ser Rolland was three years his senior and heir to the Lordship of Duskendale. He was everything a man could want in a son - handsome, gallant and decent swordsman besides. Though Ignotus could not entirely bring himself to trust the mans gentle nature, he was always the more amicable of the two Darklyns.

When his younger brother did nought but stalk away from them with a grunt, Rolland to turned to Ingotus, "I apologize for him. He's been most... Unhappy. With what's happened to our sister. Regardless, would you be willing to meet with my father and the other lords now? Or should I defer them to a later time?"

"Now would be fine, Ser," he nodded to Percival, who stepped away without a word, as the camp around them returned to their workings after the encounter. With the shake of his head, he wondered if the whole Darklyn house blamed him for what had transpired with Jeyne. Ignotus did blame himself, to be true, yet he would not take anyone accusing him of orchestrating it.

"How does my sister fare?" Rolland inquired, his eyes not straying from the path.

"Well enough," He retorted, "The Maester said she should not have survived, and yet, she has. And promises that she will continue to."

"That's good news," The older man's smile told him as much, "Father will rejoice to hear it."

'He will,' Ignotus thought, stopping himself from conveying his grief as best he could, 'Until he learns that she's with child and will not survive the birth.'

No doubt they would have him force her to not have it, but even if he wanted to, he knew she would grow to hate him if he ever did such a thing. It wasn't something he ever planned on doing, despite the difficult choice he had been presented with. He would lose a wife, but gain a child. A cruel jape by whatever gods existed if he's ever seen one in his life.

The Darklyn tent smelt of stew and meat, and he found Lord Robert Darklyn eating just that, with the lords of Rosby and Stokeworth. No doubt, the other lords had been unable to deny the mans request for such a feast during wartime. Lord Robert did have a strong appetite, and Ignotus knew it would have taken a strong toll on his physique, had it not been known that the man worked at it nearly every day.

"Father, I have brought the lord of Teague," Rolland called to his sire, who scanned him with a jovial smile.

"Ignotus, my boy," Lord Robert greeted - inducing an irritated twitch from Ignotus - and turned to a serving girl standing patiently near one of the braziers, "Sort a serving for the man -"

"I thank you, my lord, but theres' business I think we need tend to first," Ignotus stopped him before he could pull him in.

"Nonsense, son, there will be plenty a time for that."

"I would rather we parlay we Harren soon, before the day is gone, so we may plan what we shall do on the morrow."

The news brought smiles to all the other men in the tent, except his good father, who seemed rather disappointed in his decline, "I see..."

"I will be happy to join you after, and I may even speak to you of Jeyne," he offered to the man placatingly, and that seemed to raise the man's mood a bit.

"How many men do you bring with you, my lord?" Lord Rosby, another Jon if Ignotus recalled, inquired.

"Near enough to seventeen thousand Lord Rosby," Ignotus answered, his gaze on him, "This is minus the six thousand that was sent to Seagard with the Mallisters and Rygers to hold against the inevitable retaliation from the Ironborn whilst we deal with their king."

"That ought to be a quick business," Lord Lorent Stokeworth put in, "We outnumber the forces the king has stationed inside his castle. The towers are incomplete, as is the wall we've set up our siege equipment against. Word from the former slaves he had forced to work with him is that it isn't nearly as thick as the other portions of the walls. Our trebuchets should make easy work of it."

"How many men does he have stationed with him?" Ignotus asked, frowning.

"We estimate close to four thousand, bulked by the forces of Lord Harroway," Robert Darklyn spoke this time.

It was odd to hear a castle being able to hold that many men, but the size of it spoke enough on its own, "We best hope that the rivermen had the right of it. Else wise, this siege may take too long."

"Do you not intend to give them an opportunity to surrender?" Lord Stokeworths eyes narrow on him.

'Am I the only one who can make that choice?' Ignotus asked him, but to him, he said, "Of course I do, my lord... But you know these ironborn. They will not take it."

Ignotus Teague had never met the Iron King before and had never had an interest to, not especially after what had befallen his brother because of the men that followed the king. He had been content to live his life without setting his sight on the tyrannical Harren the Black once, but now, he wanted nothing more than to see him dead, his sons and all.

Such feelings returned when he saw the ageing man.

A huge drawbridge had been set down over the small stream that stood between earth and the castle, and a just as large portcullis gate raise, before humongous gates of reinforced oak, was swung open, and then, just as easily, out stepped the Iron King Harren Hoare.

He was old, his skin showing the lines and tears of age whilst the driftwood crown of his head fitted perfectly around his fattening head, where his hair was beginning to retreat to the back of his scalp. Whatever teeth he had left were a rotting mess of yellow and black, and that was a horrifying sight that the king seemed eager to show off to Ignotus and his party.

Behind the man was one of the princes, though not the crown prince Harlan sadly. It was the youngest one, Harrag, with his dark hair and the Hoare sigil plastered on his surcoat.

Leslyn Harroway. who looked be just as old as the king was there too, and of the group, looked the most distraught.

"Have you decided to come and surrender Greenlander?"

"I've come to ask you to do so, King Harren," Ignotus was happy that he didn't have to play at courtesy. That was the last thing he wanted.

"Good," The man's smile grew before his expression turned from amused to condescending, "It will be a great thing to have my men mount your wife whilst your severed head watches on, boy."

"I would have you surrender your castle and present yourself to us," Ignotus said evenly, not rising to the bait, "I promise you and your men safe passage back to Iron Isles, with an exception with the rapers you no doubt feast with there. By doing so, however, you will relinquish all claims to the Riverlands and promise to leave our lands unraided for the rest of your reign as the King of the Iron Isles."

The man laughed, and when the King laughs, so do the men he surrounds himself with. His son and Lord Leslyn behind him - though the latter seemed forced -, the guardsmen all bearing shields that escorted him, and he was sure he could even hear the guffaws of the men from the dozens of murder holes between the outer gate and the inner one.

"You follow this fool of a boy willingly?" Harren was not speaking to him now, but rather the lords and guards behind him. The Lords of Raventree Hall and Stone Hedge, and the Lord of Hayford, with Percival and more than a dozen shields.

"He inspires more loyalty than rapers and brigands," Walder Blackwood said, and his speaking evidently surprised that king.

"Oh, for true?" He turned back to Ignotus, "Then you fancy yourself a king then?"

"Do you accept my terms?"

"I will accept nothing but your head, and the head of all the traitors with you, boy."

"That you shall not have, Hoare."

The king spat and turned from him - stalking between his guards, his son and Lord Harroway behind him. The shieldsmen only retreated when the king was safely back, and with them, so did the drawbridge begin to rise and close.

With a shake of his head, Ignotus turned back to his lords and entourage, "War, then."

The siege engines had worked through the night and the three days following, throwing boulders and stone at the supposedly weak portions of the wall facing them. Ignotus hadn't been too optimistic of the truth being as the former slaves had said, but the wall was small the rest around it, so he supposed it should have some merit to it. They would need to have to start the siege at some point anyhow.

Ignotus had trouble sleeping at night, knowing what might come the next day or the day after. He put on a brave face for the many other experienced lords around him, it was expected of him. And yet, this was the first time being at war. He had not even killed a man before.

He was functioning on what appeared to be entirely logical. Any strategy he had put forth had had no prior merit or testing, nor had he the experience to truly believe without a doubt that it would work. Yet, all the lords around him nodded and uttered agreements as if he had said the best words they had ever heard. It was mildly off-putting, to say the least.

Still, he was glad that they put so much trust in him. They did ever think of him as a green boy, no, they listened when he spoke, and even more strangely, seemed willing to obey his commands.

'I need to trust myself,' he had tried to reason with himself. He didn't know how many times he wished it had been one of his brothers or father in the position he was in, leading armies and being a lord. And yet, as the morning dawned days later, he had to rid himself of those thoughts and instil confidence in himself as they told him that they had made a breach, and it would be big enough for a storm within the hour. For the people that seemed willing to follow him, if not for himself. For Jeyne.

It was that confidence he pushed himself to keep as men arrayed themselves to war drums. Then, it happened:

The grunt of wood.

A crash of stone.

A breach.

Roars.

Many would die here, of that he had no doubt, but they could not drag the siege along. Not with the ironborn likely testing the strength of Seagard north of them, and the seats of most of the lords here barely garrisoned. They had to storm the walls, and their primary objective was to capture the king, but if he refused to surrender, his death would not be mourned.

He wondered if the Iron King would fight. The man was old and fat. It seemed unlikely. That would be all the best for them. It would less likely that the man would die that way.

A horn blew.

The first ahead was a cavalry charge. Already there were shields and spears waiting for them on the new breach. Yet, the charge functioned as a distraction. Behind them, sworded men rushed to the breach, carrying a thick, heavy plank of wood to create a makeshift bridge so as the foot who could not leap like the horse could pass without going through the stream between and be slowed.

Ignotus counted six times that their plank fell as the men were hit from their sides from the murder holes that looked like nought but dotes on the wall, wherein dozens of men had died, but the cavalry ahead of them had yet to give ground, and so, the replacing men did not let their spirit die, pushing on with their shields and the board and eventually, the makeshift bridge was set firm.

Another horn blew.

The footmen were running ahead then, all swords, to counter the spears that the ironborn had set up with the mind that they would be dependant on their horse to make space for them to overrun with their numbers. Yet still, the fighting was fierce, with arrows and oil raining down to the soldiers from seemingly all sides, and the support from the cavalry that served to split the attention of the spearmen dwindling.

Then there was a retreat, and Ignotus nodded it to be wise from whoever had called it. There was a resounding roar from the ironborn, who had fended off their first attempt almost decisively. Yet, they did not move to remove their makeshift bridge, as Ignotus had half expected.

"Percival."

"My lord?"

"Ask the men who man the biggest trebuchet to try launch stone at the men holding the breach."

His master-at-arms nodded to do his bending, and soon, it was launching again. Ignotus counted the times the stone went over or hit the surrounding wall. Thirteen times did they miss and readjust, and visibly, the ironborn seemed to think they were trying to make a bigger breach. And their surprise was sure when one finally seemed to descend into the ranks directly, and they scattered with the shattering stone.

Another round of horse was already on them, but their spears were down, so the charge sent their ranks to disarray.

The horn that blue next was the longest, and many men finally ran forward.

And with them, on his dark stallion, Ignotus.