AN: Hey all here is the next chapter of 'The Frozen Throne', I hope you all like it and leave a nice, healthy review at the end. Thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones, as much as I really wish I did.

( - )

(Last Time)

Clotho shook her head at that, her sisters might have washed their hands of this issue, deeming that they had done the right thing for the right reason, and that now Percy Jackson had been cast into chaos, the dimensional gap, that he was no longer their responsibility, but Clotho did not.

Percy Jackson was born of their world, she had spun his thread herself, and that mean that his fate was still her responsibility, even if she could no longer interfere directly.

Clotho paused at that thought, a sly smile spreading across her face as she did, before she got up. She might not be able to interfere personally, nor would a divine being last long in another, foreign realm, one which had its own gods, but a mortal would.

Clotho then nodded at that, her eyes glimmering slight as plans already began to take shape, Atropos might not give a damn, but Clotho did and she would now have to clean up her sister's mess.

( - )

Chapter 3

( - )

(In the North)

Sitting astride her horse, Azshara Stark exulted in the feeling of the cold, northern wind as it blew through her long, unbound locks of ebony hair. The young girls lips curving into a momentary smile as she did so, revealing a flash of her pearly white teeth, something which stood out against her natural olive coloured skin tone and dark, almost onyx eyes. Features which were distinctly non-Stark, with her favouring her mother's side of the family more than her fathers.

At nearly twenty namedays Azshara was a fully grown woman now, far beyond the age that girls, both common and noble, would usually be married off, and likely have birthed several brats by now.

Despite that though Azshara was still unattached, by choice, something which the other Lords of the North were starting to frown on, with their ladies wives muttering snidely behind her back, not that she gave a damn what any of these savage cavemen thought about her.

Fortunately her guardian, Eddard Stark, was somewhat more accepting of her choices, in part because she likely reminded him of his strong willed, rebellious sister, the long deceased Lyanna Stark. Though also it was likely because as the only daughter of Ned's older brother, Brandon Stark, and his secret wife, Ashara Stark, a former Lady of House Dayne who he had secretly married a year before his death, she was the last remnant of his brother, and the last of his elder brother's bloodline.

After all her father, Brandon Stark, had been burned alive in the throne room of King's Landing only a month or so after Azshara had been born. With her mother, Ashara, taking her own life a year or so after, as the grief of Brandon's passing, the death of her brother elder brother Arthur Dayne, and the stress of raising Azshara alone had proved too much for the young woman's frail heart.

This had of course left Azshara alone in the world, an orphan with a grand heritage, but one who would likely have died early, or at least she would have, had her Uncle Eddard Stark not taken her in, and brought her back with him to Winterfell, where he acted as her guardian, and as the Lord regent of Winterfell, treating Azshara like she was his own daughter.

Though this was much to the irritation of Eddard's wife, Catelyn Stark. With the former Tully woman having been betrothed to Brandon before Ned, only for Azshara's father to have chosen love, and Ashara instead.

Suffice to say the two of them pretty much hated one another, Catelyn because of what Azshara represented in regards to how Brandon spurned her, and also because of the way she acted, like a man as oppose to a 'Noble Lady'. Azshara meanwhile just thought Catelyn was a sour, stupid, two-faced bitch, and would have more than happily slit her throat were she not 'family'.

Azshara grimaced at that uncharitable thought, her smile fading and her lips tightening into a thin line as she gazed out at the distance, the cold wind still whipping about around her, blowing her long black hair away from her flawless, olive skinned face.

Shaking her head and pushing those thoughts to one side for the moment, Azshara, or rather Zoe as she stubbornly insisted everyone call her, continued on down the King's Road, heading for her fortified home, Winterfell. Though to call the dirt track she was currently riding on a road was being generous in the extreme.

At present Zoe was riding a large, chocolate colour destrier, wearing as she did so, a set of tightly fitting black leather armour, perfectly moulded to her strong, lithe form, with an unstrung bow and a quiver of arrows strapped to the side of her saddle, and two castle forged steel, short swords strapped to her waist. Not that much of this was visible at present, because over the top of this she had a thick, grey wolf fur cloak to protect her from the chill air of the north.

Cantering down the road, Zoe tore her eyes from the horizon as she instead looked at the riders behind her. There were four of them in total, three of whom were bearded men, in their later twenties or early thirties, with these being lightly armoured Stark guardsmen that like herself were wearing thick travelling cloaks and riding warhorses. With these being the three guards that her Uncle Eddard had insisted on accompanying her whenever she went on her hunting trips.

Something she had only grudgingly accepted at first, luckily though the three men Marcus, Viktor and William were all decent enough, and were skilled warriors and loyal to a fault, with none of them ever overstepping the mark when it came to obeying her orders, or dutifully following her whims as she ranged far across the expanses of the North.

As well as those three there was also another woman with broad shoulders, thick brown hair tied back in a braid and slightly plain, yet not unpleasant features, who like Zoe was clad in fur and leather, and wielding a castle forged steel weapon at her hip. This was Zoe's closest companion at present, a warrior maiden of a similar temperament to herself, Dacey Mormont, a girl from Bear Island, and one who she had found she shared a lot of characteristics with, especially in how they both shunned the ideals of what constitutes a proper lady, and that only men can fight and hunt.

With this being an opinion that shock and horrified many of the Northern Lords, and would likely make the soft southern Lords and Ladies feel faint, as it somewhat went against the societal norm.

Then again Zoe didn't' care, after all there was far more to her than one would think, after all she had not always been the Lady Azshara Stark, no, in fact at one point in time she had been Zoe Nightshade, the Daughter of the Titan Atlas and the Goddess Artemis's Lieutenant of the Hunt. She was, and in her mind, still is a feared and revered warrior, one who had hunted and killed monsters and immortals beyond the imagination of most mortals, and had died fighting a Titan.

In fact for nearly three thousand years she had hunted and fought beside her mistress, one of her immortal maidens, a Huntress who stalked both monster, man, and immortal through the forests of the world, and in those three thousand years she had seen empires and civilisations rise and fall. As such a bit of gender based prejudice from some stuffy old Lords and uptight Ladies meant nothing to her, and although she had been reborn in a strange new world, she was still proud of who she was, and was not about to change a thing about herself to appease some mortal.

That being said, like all good things, that life had come to an end, as she had been killed by her own father, the Titan of Endurance, Atlas, whilst on a quest to free her friend and Mistress, Artemis, from the clutches of Kronos.

It had been a bit of a bitter ending to a long life, full of adventures, joy, sadness, and tribulation, dying on the slopes of her old home. Of course Artemis, her lifelong friend, had not just left it there, as for Zoe's millennia of service, the Goddess of the Moon and Hunt had weaved Zoe's soul into the star's themselves, the ultimate honour for a hero, and one very few had ever been granted.

Of course that hadn't been the end of it, as over nineteen years ago she had awoken, for her mere moments after she had finally succumbed to her wounds, and Artemis had woven her soul into the night sky.

With her awakening in form of a newborn baby, reborn as if she had been dipped in the River Lethe and given new life, only she still had her memories of her old life, with the world she had been reborn into being very different than the one she had just left.

No, this world was still almost medieval in the way its society, politics and economics worked, and considering she had lived through the Dark Ages on Earth, she was pretty confident in her assertions in regards to this. Of course she had never before involved herself in the mortal's petty concerns, with her instead being a member of Artemis's Hunt and so above such things, and so was still somewhat new to this whole living among the mortals thing.

Still she chose not to dwell on it, after all she had always been a mostly adaptable person, and after the first few years she had settled into her new life, one which was very different from her life in the Hunt, but hardly intolerable, though that might have also been because she was born into privilege as a Lady of a powerful Noble House, as opposed to being born as a peasant, or a beggar.

Shaking her head at that thought, Zoe once again focussed on the here and now, as with a memory as long as hers, she often found her mind drifting if she wasn't careful.

Currently Zoe was returning from her most recent hunting expedition in the far north, one which had led her to visiting a number of castles and towns along the way, stopping off at the local Lord, or Nobles home for the night as she did so, all under the excuse Eddard maintained when she went off on a whim, that she was continuing to build the relationships between the northern Lords.

Unfortunately though her trip had been cut short when she had received a raven from Winterfell some two weeks ago. Apparently her Uncle Eddard, who only six or so months ago had gone done south to become the new Hand of the King for Robert Baratheon had been arrested for treason. With him later being beheaded for the crime barely a week later by the King, the new King that is Joffrey, who took up the Iron Throne after his father's sudden demise.

With the new King of the Seven Kingdoms, Joffrey Baratheon, having accused Ned of the crime of treason and sedition. All due to her Uncle having apparently tried to usurp Joffrey of his 'gods given right to rule', as well as spread lies about his incestuous origins, with his father actually, according to Ned Stark, being his mother's brother, Jamie.

That being said Zoe had met Joffrey once before when he came up to Winterfell with the King all those months ago, back when her younger cousin Bran had fallen from the tower and crippled himself. And as such she knew that the boy was the very worst of his gender, an absolute turd and one she would have very much liked to have shoot through the head with an arrow. Still that wasn't the done thing, not when guest rights had been offered.

As for him being the product of incest, well Zoe trusted her Uncle's judgement and knew him to be an honourable man, more than that she had seen the madness within Joffrey and so could very much believe that he was indeed an inbred bastard. An inbred bastard that now sat the Iron Throne and ruled over the Seven Kingdoms.

A slight sigh left Zoe's full lips as she thought about her Uncles death. Ned Stark had been a man of honour and principal. He may have been a little naive, blunt and unrefined, but he had had a good heart, and from what Zoe saw he meant well. In fact Eddard had reminded Zoe very much of another man she had met just before she died, Percy Jackson. Like Eddard he had been honourable and generally decent, even if he was a little blunt, stubborn and hard-headed, and like Eddard she had been fond of him.

It was for this reason why she had cut her hunting trip short and rode back to Winterfell with all haste. Her Uncle had been killed by the tyrannical new King, her aunt had apparently gone south and kidnapped Lord Tyrian the Queen's brother, no doubt sparking off this whole mess.

Her younger cousins meanwhile, Sansa and Arya, had been in King's Landing at the time and so had been taken hostage. Which Zoe took particular exception too, as she was very fond of Arya, and despite her prissiness was quite fond of Sansa to, and as such was very angry that they had been taken hostage, after all she knew the darkness that dwelled in the hearts of mortals and had no doubt about what such animals, like the Lannister's and their men, were capable of.

On top of that, her younger cousin Robb had taken up his father's position as Lord Regent of the North, and called for his banners.

Zoe had been gone barely a month and already things were moving incredibly fast, and Robb although a decent man, was still a headstrong child. Hence why she was making such haste. Zoe would see to it that she got her cousins back, and exacted the North's revenge, though in a suitable and appropriate manner, as oppose to the standard testosterone filled Northern response, which was to go in, declare war, and smash some heads.

Rolling her eyes at that Zoe scowled off into the distance, where even now she could see the small dark smudge that was Winterfell coming into view. She was nearly home, and once she got there then she would have to take charge and get to the bottom of exactly what had happened, and then she would reign her cousin in before he made some boneheaded decision.

"Come on, we must make haste!" Zoe shouted as she dug her heels into the flanks o her mount, forcing the tired creature onwards as she wanted to make it to Winterfell before dark.

( - )

(On Bear Island)

There was a large scowl on Lady Maege Mormont's, rough and weathered face as she sat in the large, wooden, throne like chair in the great hall of her Keep, her large bulk covered in a faded, grey, woollen dress, over the top of which she had a thick, brown bear skin cloak on, as she glowered around at the bickering men around her.

It was at times like these that she could curse her irritating brother Jeor for abandoning his duties and instead heading for the Wall, where he was now the Lord Commander, or his idiotic son, her damnable nephew, Jorah, for getting himself exiled form Westeros for engaging in slavery, all to appease his vapid, idiotic wife, that Hightower bitch.

An irritable sigh left her thin lips at that thought, at nearly fifty years of age, Maege was getting old, far too old to be deal with this shit, especially when she should be enjoying her last few years.

Still House Mormont of Bear Island always did their duty, 'Hear We Stand', was their House words after all, and as such when their liege Lord's called then they would stand with them, resolute and to the end.

Unfortunately though his was the case now, as Ned Stark the former Lord Regent of Winterfell had been murdered in King's Landing, killed by the inbred, bastard King Joffrey and his family the vile Lannister's, all of whom cast aspersions on his honour and on the honour of the North, when they executed Ned Stark for treason, slaughtered his Household in King's Landing, and took his daughters hostage.

Thankfully his eldest son Robb remained in Winterfell, as well as is niece the fearsome Lady Azshara, both of whom would not let this heinous crime stand. With the young Wolf having sent out ravens calling for his Bannermen's aid, a call which the Bear Islands would answer with all the fury and wrath of the North.

Already it had been a week or so since the message had come, and she had gathered all the men of importance in her hall, where even now they were discussing the logistics of levying the troops, arming them properly and then shipping them over to Winterfell. All whilst leaving behind enough people to defend their shores from wildling and Iron Born raiders, and to harvest the crops and store them.

"We have a standing force of three hundred and twenty three professional soldiers my Lady. All of them armed, armoured and trained, more than that they have all already wetted their blades driving off wildlings and Iron Born marauders." Lars, her Master at Arms said gruffly, his large meaty arms folded in front of his massive chest, his thick, bearskin cloak and chain mail hauberk making him look even bigger as he did so.

"Furthermore we are able to raise nearly four thousand levies if we push it, most of whom have their own weapons and at least some armour. Though some of that equipment will be old and battered, probably passed down from father to son for generations, and so will need replacing. Still many of the levies will have at least some basic experiences holding off raiders." Hef added on, the captain of Maege's Household guards, and the Chief Warrior of their forces, nodding his head and stroking his scruffy blonde beard thoughtfully as he did so.

"And how long will it take to gather them?" Maege asked as she looked between the two large men, trusting in their judgement as she did so, after all they were both in charge of the upKeep of Bear Island's military and their training, and she would be bringing both of them with her when she went to join the young Wolf.

That being she could only hope that Dacey, her eldest daughter, would be there too, as she wanted her eldest to get her first taste of battle, after all she would be taking over the running of Bear Island after Maege died. Her other child Lyanna meanwhile would be sitting as the Lady of Bear Island whilst she was gone, with the advice of the island's Maester who would hopefully Keep things running in her absence.

"It's not gathering them that's the issue my Lady, we already have over a thousand in the town now. What's more problematic is shipping them over to the mainland and then feeding them in a timely manner." The Bear Island's Maester, a weasel like man called Reinhart said from the other side of the room to Lars and Hef, the skinny man flinching slightly as the gazes of Hef and Lars landed on him, both of them being devoted followers of the Old Gods and none too keen on the southern Maester and his ways.

"We'll just seize repurpose some barges and borrow some fishing boats." Lars replied dismissively.

"Yes but in doing so we will cut off the supply of fresh fish to the island." Reinhart replied.

"A temporary measure, and one which will only be for a few weeks whilst we gather our forces and ship them over to the main land." Lars responded bluntly, waving away the smaller man's concerns.

"Yes but if we are to feed our troops we will need to empty Bear Islands stores for the march to Winterfell, and the loss of that many people from the island will make replenishing the stores before the long winter all but impossible, especially if we are missing most of our fishing boats." Reinhart replied, his own voice getting quite heated at the other men's dismissive attitudes. "On top of that, if too many warrior go, it would leave us vulnerable to wildling and Iron Born raids."

"It's still summer, and hopefully this conflict will be over before winter arrives." Hef shot back waving his hand airily at Reinhart. "We still have time. As for the wildings and Iron Born, their raids are always small, and we'll leave enough men to throw them back into the sea if they come for us."

"Reinhart makes a good point, it's all well and good answering the Stark's call, but we must also look to the safety of our own people." Maege finally spoke up, looking between the three men irritably as they continued to bicker.

"Then what would you suggest my Lady?" Lars asked, his tone more deferential and respectful as he looked to the older woman.

"We take only three thousand spears with us, including the household guard. The rest we leave here to replenish the stores and fend off wildling and Iron Born raids." Maege replied after a few moments, knowing as she did that at a push the Bear Islands could produce five thousand spears, a sizeable army of levies, and one of the reasons why despite their slightly isolated location they were still so powerful a Northern House. That being said Reinhart made a good point, and a good ruler always looked to the future as well as the present.

Hef nodded at that, taking his hand away from his beard as he did so, though he did send Reinhart a sour look before he turned to full mace the she-bear, Maege Mormont, not liking how they would be reducing their own forces, and so their influence when they join the main Northern host, and the new Lord Regent gathers his war council.

"If that is your will my Lady." Lars rumbled a few moments later.

Lady Maege opened her mouth to respond to that, her sharp blue eyes narrowing at her Master at Arms tone of voice, something she was very tempted to slap out of the truculent man, after all they were going to war, and respect for the chain of command was crucial.

Before she could however she was distracted by a sudden ringing sound, as a loud gong echoed across the island. A sound she recognised as she had heard it many times before over the decades, after all the sound came from one of the watchtowers that dotted the island. More importantly though, it came from the watchtower that over looked the bay her castle and the main town on Bear Island sat.

"A raid now of all times!" Maege grumbled irritably as she heaved herself up out of her throne like chair and strode to the small windows of her great hall, both Lars and Hef following as they made to look out of the castle and out over the attached town and rocky coast line, expecting to see either a couple of Iron Born ships, or some rickety wildling craft as they did so.

"What in the…" Lars mumbled under his breath as he looked out over the bay, only to see a thick mist rolling in from the sea, or rather what was the sea, as even now he could see the rough, choppy waters freezing over, the frost spreading across the shore as it did so, leaving behind it nothing but a plain of crested, white ice.

Ignoring the warning bell as it continued to ring out over the town, Maege, Lars and Hef could only watch as the sea froze over, and the clouds overhead darkened, even as hail and snow began to fall. More than that though they could also see a large mass of shadowy shapes marching through the thick mist, walking across the frozen sea and towards the coast.

"What sorcery is this!?" Maege demanded as she saw her breath misting in front of her, even as the snow and hail continued to rain down on the castle and surrounding town, the beginnings of a blizzard beginning to whip up from seemingly out of nowhere. "How can winter have come upon us so fast?"

"I'm not sure this is winter." Reinhart replied in a shaky, hoarse voice as he gestured at the large crowd of raiders shambling towards them, or rather at the two mounted individuals leading them, both of who they could see from the Keep's window were as white as the snow, wearing dark armour and riding on the backs of skeletal horses. Just looking at them they could feel a chill run down their spines.

"How many spears did you say we have already?" Maege asked weakly as she saw the shambling mass getting ever closer to the shore, even as the settlement around her Keep exploded into action, as men and women both grabbed weapons and ran to repel the invaders, all of them no doubt thinking this was another Iron Born or wildling raid, part of the course for living on an island this far up north.

"Thirteen hundred at present, all of them billeting in the town, though only three hundred of them are fully equipped, trained and battle-ready at present." Lars, her Master at Arms replied dutifully.

"It'll do!" Hef suddenly erupted before he grabbed the large sword at his hip and drew it in a single motion. "I'll lead the defence of the town, Lars you gather the household guard and defend the Keep."

Lars nodded at that, any thought of arguing gone for the moment as he instead grabbed Hef's forearm, the other man doing the same as the two battle brothers clasped arms. "Fight well brother, and come back alive."

"You as well brother, if I fall make sure the Keep holds." Hef returned, before with a nod he broke off and marched out of the hall, bellowing orders all the while as he headed towards the Keep's entrance, and the panicking town outside.

"Come my Lady, we need to ready the defences and lower the portcullis." Lars said as he turned back to Lady Mormont.

Only for him to see she had already drawn her own sword from where it was hanging beside her chair, the castle forged steel glinting in the light from the hall's roaring fire as she met his gaze, her aged disposition fading as her heart began to beat faster at the thought of the battle to come. "Ready the men, we'll show these craven what it means to attack Bear Island!"

( - )

(At the same time, approaching the coast)

Looking on at the mid-sized settlement in front of him, Percy's placid gaze scanned over the couple of hundred wooden buildings scattered before him, and the two metre or so spiked, wooden palisade that surrounded it, all of which was sat on a slightly raised portion of the island, looking down on the rocky coast line and the island's small dock.

With there being a large, forbidding castle rising over all, a squat, blocky looking Keep which was about twenty or so metres tall, with a small tower on each of its four corners and a number of small windows, arrow slits really, dotted around the outside of the Keep, at the very top, windows which were probably there for archers to shoot out of if the Keep were to be attacked.

Ignoring the sound of the town's bells as it rang out, Percy's gaze instead roamed over the fourteen hundred or so mass of undead bodies that made up his own forces, grimacing slightly as he did so.

The undead, for all they lacked fear, and felt no pain or mercy, they were not the most useful of foot soldiers. These reanimated corpses, they lacked the full sentience and initiative of living beings, as such when using them your tactics could only be simple, which was somewhat annoying.

Still they also had uses, they felt no fear, and had a certain psychological impact on whoever they faced, after all it would take a brilliant leader to maintain the discipline of his troops and curb the inherent fear the undead caused. On top of that, common issues like feeding his soldiers and letting them have rest didn't apply to the undead, and any soldiers he lost could be easily recouped through necromancy. Still there were limitations, and they did have weaknesses.

Looking away from his undead horde Percy's gaze instead shifted to his right, his focus now on beautiful, cold looking Sylvanas who, like Percy himself, was now mounted on a skeletal, undead horse, her bow held at the ready in her right hand as the two of them led their army towards the panicking island's largest settlement.

Unlike Percy though, the white haired woman's gaze showed no concern as she easily controlled her mount, her glowing blue eyes trailing over the settlement as it erupted into action, hundreds of people flooding forth, all of them holding an assortment of weapons, even as a couple of mangonels and ballistae were brought forth from wooden storehouses on the coast. This island was clearly no stranger to raids.

Not that such preparation would help them, not against the legion of the dead.

Percy let out a sigh of that, his gaze sombre as he saw the mortals grabbing weapons and preparing their defences.

It had been three days now since they had left the land beyond the Wall, with Percy having frozen the sea around the Wall, allowing both Percy and Sylvanas to walk their ever-growing undead horde across the frozen sea and complete by pass the colossal wall of ice, and the protective magicks that had been woven into it.

In fact the whole ordeal had been pretty easy and simplistic, they had passed complete unnoticed, walking on the frozen water even as a blizzard formed around them, hiding them from view.

Now though they had found their quarry, a large, heavily wooded island somewhat isolated from the rest of the mainland, but which had a large amount of living beings on it.

It would be a perfect staging ground for the Night King's scourge of the Seven Kingdoms. Of course first they had to take it, massacring the inhabitants as they did so and reanimating them to bolster their ever-growing forces.

The thought of which for Percy, caused the first stirrings of unease to build up within him, feelings which the now much quieter whispers of the Night King couldn't quite assuage.

( - )

AN: Well what a place to stop eh, I was so tempted to continue onwards, but no, I decided to leave the Battle of Bear Island until next chapter. After all this will be my first proper battle scene, so I want to make sure it is done right, and isn't just pointless action for the sake of pointless actions.

That being said there was a lot more to this chapter than that, as now we have the revelation of just what Clotho did to interfere, as Zoe is now around. With this in part due to some brilliant advice I got for those willing to be my sounding board, so thanks to MicrosoftGamer789 for your help. I was originally going to bring several of the Seven in and settle them around Westeros and Essos, which probably would have split the story up with too many points of views.

Suffice to say I am pretty excited for what follows, after all where Percy has power, Zoe has experience and power of her own, and on top of that they had a connection already, so I am interested to explore that.

Of course like with my other PJ/ GoT story I will be expanding on and developing the magical creatures of the Game of Thrones verse more than I feel the books or the show did, or at least in a different way.

Either way this was the chapter, I hope you all liked it. Plus you're lucky I managed to hold off the sudden desire to write a Percy Jackson/ DC story, as I instead forced myself to concentrate on my already existing stories. Which trust me was a bit of a pain, as I have so many ideas for other stories.

Still I managed to get it out, so I hope you all like it. Thanks for reading and I hope you all leave a nice big review for me to read.

See you all later.

Greed720.