The Wicked Witch of the North

by Cervantes Diderot

Fairer a tale could not have been written regarding that day when Robb Stark broke a maiden free of her chains. Though most tales are lies, and Shiera Seastar is no maiden needing rescue. She is a politician with a tongue like a knife, a sorceress with knowledge as dark as earth, and a talent for turning everything into a weapon. The Starks are mere pawns in her game of chess.

4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: The Stone Born.

Disclaimer: I own none of the material written by George R. R. Martin, or his publishing company, or HBO.

OOOO

Sansa swept back into her seat from what had been a decidedly most elegant curtsey. Beside her Robb grumbled semi-silently as he resumed drinking Old Nan's cure for crapulence. Across the very large table from them were Greatjon Umber, Smalljon Umber, and the Mountain Clan representatives. Her father's three strongest northwestern bannermen in terms of increasing strength, not including House Mormont, were the Wulls, Norreys, and First Flints. The lot of her guests were hardy warriors not so easily impressed with impeccable curtseys. "My brother and I are honoured to lead House Stark's discussions with some of our most respected vassals," She smiled at them all. Only chilly glances were shot at her in return.

"The Ned sends us a southron maiden, and a greenboy of summer," The petty Lord of Wull remarked in a growling tone. He clearly carried the mantle of the Mountain Clans with the ability to field a larger army than his neighbors, yet there was pride too. Pride that needed to be firmly broken before even the Umbers would take her seriously Sansa realized. "While he meets with Skagg scum, alongside that silver-haired Targaryen whore. I lost good brothers to those dragon fuckers. Good brothers, aye, too good for their memories to be tainted in such a way."

"Her name is Shiera Seastar and you wil-," Robb began to betray just how much of a greenboy he was until Sansa wrenched the room back in her control. With a heartstopping display of proficiency she had reached for the Lyseni dirk strapped across her left calf. In a matter of seconds it was pinning the Wull Lord's tunic sleeve directly to the table. Taking advantage of his shock she leant forth instantly to pull at his collar while fighting desperately not to turn red in the effort.

"We are Starks of Winterfell," She hissed out frostily, "Our blood is the same blood that ran through Torrhen Stark's veins, and all those kings who came before him. We gifted your forefathers with leniency even though initially they too failed to recognize how strong our House is in winter's coldest throes. Listen well, Lord Wull, and might my other guests do the same. Us Starks appreciate loyalty above all else, and Lady Seastar has become as much a Stark as she ever was a Targaryen. If she orders you to make peace with the Skaggossons, then you will do so without fail, and House Stark shall continue to honour your most honorable House." Here she paused prior to pushing him back, wrenching the dirk from the table only to point it unwaveringly at his throat. "Do not let your family name share the same fate as the Ambers, or Greenwoods. Winter is coming, and it is far more important than your wounded pride."

Sitting back relievedly she tried to fight away the ragged breaths which tore through her exhausted body. Greatjon Umber suddenly broke into waves of laughter which were quickly picked up on by the petty Mountain Clan Lords. Lord Wull looked properly chastised by the much younger girl's surprising adeptness with a dirk. "I must apologize to the Sansa Stark," He apologized shamefacedly.

"Let us never discuss it again, Lord Wull. Sometimes we are unable to control the boiling of tempers," Sansa responded graciously. "I could not allow myself to forget the millennia-worth of endless loyalty House Wull has displayed to Winterfell to be erased so easily." Tapping Robb, who looked absolutely shocked, on the shoulder she conveyed that it was time for him to shine.

Clearing his throat the half-awake heir began to describe the, properly cowed, Lords respective roles in Shiera's plots. "My father already announced your respective roles in the Northern road network's construction at the feast last night. My sister has proven herself an extraordinarily effective manager of Winterfell's ledgers in the past year. She will distribute the Mormont's loan to you Lord Wull, and officially task you with transporting it after this meeting ends." Here he passed each of them charts of the work which had yet to begin. "These blueprints were personally handcrafted by Lady Shiera's team of engineers. You will each direct your men to begin working as designated upon returning home."

Here he paused for a long, discernable moment prompting their Lordly guests to grow cautious. Sansa knew well enough that it was always a poor decision to let bad news sink in. The recipients needed to be blindsided with such matters so that they could not grow prepared to negotiate. "My father and Lady Shiera have decided to implement a centralized system with regards to survival during winter. From here on forth each corner of the North will be organized into one of four food pooling systems. With regards to agricultural production there will cease to be any discongruity between the Houses."

"Tax breaks will be given to any Lords who manage to produce more food, or to improve their production rates," Sansa interjected, "Which should more than make up for any financial loss of crops. We stand together here in the North, in the face of winter. I will hear no arguments against this proposal." All of the Lords sat glowering across the table in response to this. Knowing that Robb certainly lacked the finesse for what came next she cut him off abruptly. "At this very moment Lady Shiera is doubtlessly proposing that the Skagosson be included in a storage system with Last Hearth and Karhold."

Greatjon Umber went so far as to pound a fist against the table in fury while his son reacted with just as little enthusiasm. "YOU EXPECT US TO FEED THOSE FILTHY, GOAT FUCKING, COCK SUCKING SKAGGS?" The gargantuan man bellowed ferociously. Robb took hold of Sansa's dagger before pointing it skillfully at the Umber Lord. Each of the three Mountain Clan Lords stood to defend her as well.

"My father, Lord Stark," She corrected the idiotic man frostily, "Expects us all to come together in the face of an imminent, potentially long winter. If the Skaggossons have survived this long on their own with such large numbers imagine what we can learn from them! Unless you are willing to look the many mothers and fathers beneath your protection in the eyes one day soon. To tell them that their children died of hunger because you were more interested in prolonging ancient rivalries."

"She is right, father," Smalljon Umber growled reluctantly, sheathing his sword and sitting again. His father sheathed the greatsword in his hand viciously, yet did not follow suit. He simply remained standing with an angry look in those eyes.

"We would never force either House Karstark or House Umber to betroth their children to any Skaggossons," Robb spoke to relieve any tension. Directing all the faces away from a very relieved Sansa momentarily. "However, it should be noted that each of the noble Houses of Skagos will be expected to begin forging mainland connections as a fundamental part of negotiations. Any Houses that agree to do the North such a service will earn much favour with House Stark."

The Smalljon seemed much more cunning than his father, for what little that said about him. In a few moments he calmed himself and seemed to have recognized what a disservice their twin outbursts had done them. "I am not yet married," The heir of House Umber spoke firmly, "Nor is my youngest sister Edwylla. If we were to consider such a proposal how far exactly would House Stark's favour extend?"

"Last Hearth would be granted the majority of the fabric masters from Lys. With their aid your family's' role in the North's wool trade would be greatly enhanced," Robb answered swiftly. Though it was clear from the Smalljon's disappointed frown that he had been hoping for more.

"I make no promises," Sansa noticed Robb's jaw tighten at her latest interjection, "But perhaps if either you or your sister were to have a daughter within a suitable period of time she could be betrothed to my brother Rickon. My father is the superior power in the North, as my brother will be after his death though. The best I can give you is my word, Lord Umber, that I will personally show my full support for such a match." A marriage to any of the Stark children was perhaps the most desirable reward any Northern Lord could hope for. Sansa knew her parents would not agree with such a sentiment, yet wedding Rickon to Edwylla's child would give them strong, new ties.

"I pledge too that I shall follow my sister in arranging such a betrothal," Robb declared supportively. Surprising Sansa by a fair amount. Having the Heir of Winterfell throw his name behind that particular agreement seemed to settle Smalljon Umber immensely. The Lord of Last Hearth even sat down into his seat. Both of the siblings then proceeded to describe several new developments which would prepare the North for winter. The first of which being their Lord Father's new rule that any women or children seeking shelter and work be provided guest right. The second, regarding full complicity with the 'diggers' of Mole's Town who would begin constructing their dens beneath almost every Northern settlement.

Finally left alone the pair simply sighed at one another. Too exhausted to even remark at all upon Sansa's sudden talent for handling dirks.

OOOO

Catelyn had been unable to keep herself away from the meeting between Ned and the Skaggossons. She truly should have attended Robb and Sansa's discussions instead though the Lady of Winterfell could not resist. These discussions would impact the reach of Winterfell's influence for her grandchildren and, hopefully, their grandchildren in turn. Either Lady Shiera would manage to bring Skagos beneath House Stark's might, or hostilities would brew even more fiercely than the last time. Blue eyes peered cautiously at the three Lords who stood before them in Winterfell's former throne room.

There was Lord Crowl from Deepdown which rested just beyond the Wall. He looked absolutely savage compared to his compatriots and audaciously wore a crown of dull stone. Beside him hobbled the old Lord of House Stane from Driftwood Hall who seemed to have survived many winters by little more than the skin of his teeth. Taller than either of the Skaggosson warriors was Clement Magnar who stood at almost twenty-and-one hands. Reedy, swift on the feet no doubt, and probably quite formidable with a spear. "My dear Lords of Skagos," Shiera Seastar announced from her position next to Catelyn, in turn Ned was positioned at her other elbow. "Winterfell welcomes you with open arms," She was absolutely radiant as always in a dress of white and grey furs.

Even after having just exited talks with Jeor Mormont the woman's mismatched eyes seemed as shrewd as ever. When the 'dear Lords of Skagos' stared sullenly at the Great Bastard she simply smiled dangerously. "You have brought three-thousand swords to our gates. Lord Stark has sent ravens to the Tallharts, Cerwyns, and Karstarks asking that we be reinforced with double that number of Stark men. Though I doubt after you have heard our offers that any Skagosi blood will be spilt again. Please take your seats, my Lords."

Clement Magnar did as was asked of him while a visibly uncertain Lord Stane followed his liege's lead. Lord Crowl did not, however, make any motions to sit. "Unless you are offering us those tits on a platter," The foolish, young Lord sneered, "I have no interest in breaking bread with Starks, Targaryen." An increasingly frosty Lord Stark had just started to tense as though preparing to defend his ward's honor when Clement Magnar rose to both feet again. In a swift series of movements he gripped the Crowl boy by the back of his long hair, kicked his knees from under him, then bashed that smug face against the table at a ferocious speed. The crown of dull stones fell to the floor only to roll far away.

The Crowl guards looked tempted to rise upwards in retaliation though they were greatly outnumbered by both the Stark men and other Skaggossons. "You must understand one thing, Lord Stark," The Magnar plopped back into his seat while Lord Crowl slumped limply against the table set opposite of Ned's high seat. "It was not easy to bring my men to Winterfell for discussions. This one bitching incessantly," He poked a gruff thumb in Crowl's direction, "And the other constantly scheming behind my back." Dark-blue eyes glowered up at them all, "So I truly hope whatever this Targaryen has to offer is worthwhile."

"I will be making all of the offers," Ned sounded coldly firm, like a true Lord of Winterfell, "Though Lady Seastar's efforts in arranging this meeting cannot be understated." He flicked his hand out prompting Maester Luwin, who stood to the side, to spread parchments before Lord Magnar. "The North is preparing to grow and develop into many new industries. Skagos can play a vital role in these developments if sufficient steps towards total assimilation are taken."

"Sufficient steps?" Lord Stane queried cautiously. Catelyn shivered somewhat at the mild resemblance between this man and Walder Frey. "Your Northmen would never allow us to accomplish such a task. Our entire journey to this wretched place was in vain."

"The forging of potential betrothals was no easy feat," Lady Shiera spoke over his growing rage. "Though I am pleased to inform you, Lord Stane, that the Umbers have agreed just this morning to such a proposal." Catelyn remained stoic even though her surprise was stronger than the Breaking of Dorne's Arm. The Targaryen Princess had received a message from a red-faced serving girl only moments before the meeting began. What exactly had Sansa and Robb managed to accomplish in their meeting with the Umbers? "Jon Umber, Lord of Last Hearth has offered the hands of his heir, Jon, and daughter, Edwylla, to Skagos in the hopes of forging strong, bold ties."

"Lord Crowl has no children and wedded this very year," Clement Magnar frowned, "Which means that I shall wed Edwylla Umber." His willingness, albeit reluctant, was stunning to Catelyn. She wondered how poor the conditions were on Skagos that they would work with Winterfell just for economic opportunity. "Lord Stane has a daughter who might be suitable for the heir of Last Hearth." With a face that looked as sour as though he had bitten into a lemon Lord Stane nodded reluctantly. He suddenly clapped at having received the support of his vassal. The doors behind him were opened in response allowing a beautiful woman inside. Certainly not comparable to Lady Seastar or Sansa, in Catelyn's opinion, though already the men were swooning. "My sister, Syggi," He called loudly to the Lord of Winterfell, "Has journeyed here with us. She would make a good bride for your son. Would she not, Lord Stark?"

Instantly a coldness fell across the former throne room as the Northmen peered up at Ned for his response. The Manderlys, who sat on Catelyn's left as honoured observers, stiffened noticeably at that boisterous offer. It was pushing boundaries enough for Winterfell to tighten relations with Skagos at all. If Robb, the most desirable bachelor in the North, the highest honor that could be bestowed upon any of their vassal Houses, were wedded to this Magnar girl it would create pandemonium. "No," Shiera protested firmly and stepping well above her place as a result, "Robb Stark has far too many prospects to be committed so strongly at this point in time. Pardon my bluntness, Lord Magnar."

"My brother may forgive your bluntness," Siggy Magnar responded instead, "Though I shall have a much harder time of it. Lady Targaryen." She was curt though clearly as commanding a presence as her brother. Curled locks so blonde they looked white fell wildly about her shoulder. A lithe body draped in grey furs poised itself gracefully about the air itself. Catelyn did not doubt for a single moment that this young Skagosi Lady was not a capable warrior.

"Perhaps it may be a consolation, Lady Magnar," Shiera remained peaceable, "If I offered you a position in Lady Sansa Stark's court?" It had visibly been less appealing of a prospect than becoming the future Lady of Winterfell. Syggi Magnar's eyes glimmered with the force of a lightning storm as she verbally agreed to accept such an 'honor'. Catelyn was merely happy that she had not needed to protect Robb from an arranged marriage. The Lady of Winterfell was not ready to send any of her babes off to the arms of another House.

"Upon witnessing such a willingness to become fully aligned with the rest of the North I am inclined to discuss future matters of commerce." Ned nodded to Clement Magnar who looked quite interestedly upwards. Standing beside the Lord's chair was his pretty sister whose shrewd gaze practically pierced into Ned's form. "Lord Commander Mormont signed an agreement today which will turn Eastwatch-by-the-Sea into the major lumber provider of the North's newest ship building industry."

"I have visited the wall myself," Shiera interjected at Ned's pause, "There are many vast thickets of weirwood forests. Using that wood should allow us to produce ships of a greater quality than most of the Free Cities. The Night's Watch will be clearing them by the league anyways to start a greater agricultural production." The Manderlys seemed to swell bitterly at being so removed from such abundance of a profitable resource. The Magnar siblings clearly were beginning to recognize just how wealthy their House might become. "Of course, before we even consider lending Skagos Essosi shipwrights, or this supply of weirwood, a port will need to be built. Many sailors I have spoken with throughout my time as the North's economic advisor have alleged that Skagos is entirely unnavigable."

Of course the two Lords seemed reluctant to answer this question. It would be akin to a Stark sending ravens to each of the Great Houses with a list of secret paths through the Neck. "The waters at Kingshouse are mild enough that a port could be established," Syggi Magnar pounced. There was a hungry gleam to the girl's gaze as though she were tired of wearing simple furs. Catelyn had met many women like this one before her, and Skagos in its current state was almost certainly not enough. "We are willing to take a loan from House Stark, as House Mormont has," She stared at Ned instead of Lady Shiera, "So long as you agree to include us in this new industry once the port is completed."

"Such an agreement will occur after your brother and his vassals recognize that there are new obligations to be seen through. We will expect the Lords of Skagos to arrive at Winterfell whenever summoned, renew oaths of fealty bi-annually to the Starks of Winterfell, pay their taxes consistently, filter men through the Night's Watch supplementation alongside the rest of the north-eastern contingent, form trade relations with the rest of the North, and honor betrothals," Lady Shiera paused for breath. "Failure to comply with any of these stipulations will result in the immediate halting of your monthly loan disbursements."

Here Ned place a halting, fatherly hand on her shoulder. "Further disobedience will bring the wolves of winter, and all of our allies, to your home. An event in which a rapid change of leadership will occur." His voice boomed commandingly across the hall as all in attendance took heed. Catelyn had never been more impressed by Lady Shiera Seastar's ambitions than when the Lords of Skagos, those that mattered anyways, signed the contractual agreement.

OOOO

Jeor Mormont's death was an incredibly shocking affair. Barely into the night after he had signed a lengthy contract with her father the Bear of the Wall plummeted to his death from the First Keep. Pushed by none other than Ser Alliser Thorne who had accompanied him from the Wall. Oddly enough the man claimed fervently that he was innocent of the charges despite having been caught in the act by five witnesses. Sansa brushed her auburn hair while thinking of the strange events which now would presumably leave Uncle Benjen as Lord Commander. Hardly a fact to be scoffed at given that Winterfell would now have far more influence over the Gift.

A soft knock on the door marked Lady Shiera's sudden entrance into the spacious chambers. "You did splendidly persuading the Umbers to agree to a betrothal," The woman complimented while taking control of the hair brushing.

"Robb was the final nail in the coffin," Sansa protested earnestly, "I only managed it because he threw his word in behind mine."

"No," Shiera Seastar emitted a knowing chuckle, "You managed to lead a room full of men, Northern men at that, to a conclusion. Your brother was a tool in bringing them to yielding what you wanted." Auburn flowed loosely like strands of silk between pale fingers.

"How do I know you are not doing the same to me at this very moment?" The thought had been ruminating in the eldest Stark daughter's head for quite a long while.

Silence rung sharply for the first time in their relationship. "We both know the answer to that question. Do we not Sansa? If you are clever enough to question my motivations then you are surely clever enough to deduce my sincerity."

"I have never questioned you sincerity, Lady Seastar," The girl answered firmly, "Though I wonder how long your interests shall align with those of House Stark. Andarra has been traipsing off on various secret missions for you. A Manderly handmaiden claimed that she has been rutting with Theon Greyjoy." With some hesitance she whispered the next bit, "I also believe that you have something to do with Alliser Thorne going berserk last night." Such was a dangerous thing to speak aloud. With so many Northern Lords lurking about any overheard words would have surely meant no less than Shiera's execution.

"The most important thing I will ever tell you Sansa Stark," Fingers dug reassuringly into her shoulders, "Is that the past is the past. There are things yet to be done to secure both of our futures. My role for this phase of those plans has been completed. Now you must do your part as well."

"Swear on your honor," Sansa responded in a steely tenor, "That I, nor my family, have any reason to fear that you will betray us."

Those well-manicured fingers swept down to the tops of her arms in response. "Your mother and father gave me shelter when they could have handed me over to Robert Baratheon on a platter. They trusted me with the tutelage of their intelligent daughters, trusted me with the Northern economy, and defended my prospects as though I were of their own flesh. I swear on my honor that your family fits quite nicely within all of my ambitions."

Taking a steadying breath the blossoming beauty nodded as though to reassure herself. "What is my role in this phase of your plans?"

Shiera smiled once more at that, "You proved to your father's most rambunctious men that you are no mere blushing maiden. Just as I requested. Now comes the time to properly cement that burgeoning reputation." Mismatched eyes glittered dangerously, "Convince Lord Stark to allow you to attend the public execution of Ser Alliser Thorne. Then stand alongside your brothers as any true Stark might."

OOOO

Shiera Seastar smiled as she entered into her own chambers. Wasting no time removing her clothing despite the company present. Andarra stood with plated hands by the end of the bed. "You did a splendid job," The Targaryen Princess crooned, placing both hands on the Lyseni handmaiden's cheeks. A cautious hand moved to make certain that the knots attached to the bedpost were, in fact, tight enough. "Lord Stark will not be seeking him out this evening?"

"They only just finished speaking with one another, my Lady," That thick accent responded, "I intercepted him at his chambers immediately after."

"Excellent," The beauty turned so that the laces of her gown could be loosened. "On my desk are the vials intended for Theon Greyjoy. Visit him again, and remember to take your moon tea before you fall asleep." The pretty young woman nodded before doing as bidden. Leaving not a moment later. Shiera basked for a moment at being left alone to her task. Relishing the noises of struggle behind her creamy back as she pulled various objects from their drawers. "It has been a very long time since I had a man," The Targaryen allowed a single shoulder to be completely revealed. Grey eyes glared venomously in her direction as she allowed the gown to drop completely. "I will enjoy this union very much. You men always think yourselves in charge. At least this time we will begin with the true dynamic having already been revealed."

Delicate hands lifted a knife along the hem of his trousers, slashing them away easily enough. The struggles only grew more fierce in response. Muscled legs squirmed mightily as a monstrous erection visibly tented his worn braies. Then there went the tunic leaving behind forests of black body hair that tangled above bulging muscles. Such struggles were for naught however, as the ropes binding him to the bed would not be loosened for several hours more. Foreign symbols that carried an air of anciency were scrawled across that attractive body with a pungent paste. Red as blood, and it flickered like fire beneath the torchlight.

"Andarra did well in grooming your appearance," The vibrant, buxom, nude Targaryen chuckled throatily. Her fingers caressed where a coarse beard had been replaced with dark stubble, reaching up to stroke at much shorter tangles of black hair. "They train courtesans quite well in Lys. Women like that can simply gaze at a man, or even another woman, and tell exactly what they like. I prefer a well-groomed man myself." More squirming came as her, now slimy, fingers began to unlace his only remaining article of clothing. "That is nice," She smiled delightedly whilst slashing away the white fabric. More patterns were drawn from his groin to the bottoms of his feet. Tipping her head back the sorceress slipped into the luxurious bed of silks to straddle the air above the man's girthsome cock.

Reaching down Shiera tipped it perfectly upright before sliding down as slowly as seemed to be possible. "Noj zhiers lonha trinha, Benjen Stark," The woman hissed as she whipped her hips back and forth atop the muscular man's body. Fingers stretched outwards as her head tossed back in a wave of platinum-silver. His gag was removed allowing heated gasps of lust to break out into the cold air. Like a racing stallion she pound her sensuous body down harder on the bound man's body. Plenty of time passed as the Great Bastard made love for the first time in decades. She enjoyed it for as long as was possible before suddenly leaning forth at the very end. Tangles of exotically-coloured hair blocked their face from the light as a primal exchange occurred.

Foreign buzzing noises were exchanged for Benjen Stark's stolen seed. The candles guttered out in an invisible breeze. Growing silent Shiera Seastar rose in the night air with closed eyes. They opened suddenly flashing a light grey only to return to normal with a rapid blink. Each of the candles flared back to their prior brilliancy revealing a startling sight. Sunken into Benjen Stark's skin like a tattoo were whirling, crimson sigils. Sighing contentedly, with a coquettish tossing of her slim shoulders, Shiera leant down so she was nestled against his unconcious form.

"You have much to accomplish for me at the Wall yet, Benjen Stark."

OOOO

Next Chapter: The Red Rose of Winterfell.