"What a shit place to live."
"We've hardly even been here for a few weeks."
"And I can already tell how shit the North is."
Daario Naharis was not impressed to say the least of the territory they were to defend. While it may not have been snowing, the air had its usual chill and white powdery flakes was coated across the land. Not to mention, there was a noticable lack of people vacating the towns they passed through. It was like the entire region had been abandoned.
"If you think it's bad now, wait until you see its brothels." Tyrion commented dryly as he too looked about their surroundings. However unlike the captain - he and Varys were riding in a carriage while he rode out on horse back in the open on the road to Winterfell.
"Mind your tongues," Jorah's firm bassitone voice came. "This is the queen's kingdom now. You'd do well not to insult it." the Mormont warned from a top his own horse in front of the duo. This had silenced the sell sword momentarily but it wasn't long before his mouth had opened and started speaking again.
"How does anyone live here? There's nothing to do here but freeze your balls off." Daario frowned and then looked in Jorah's direction, "Is that why you sold slaves?" he asked insensitively. Jorah hardly had time to show a physical reaction outside of the clenching of his jaw and tightened grip on the reigns before a horse suddenly whisked by him in a hurry.
Daario hardly managed to catch sight at who was ontop of the horse running at him before he was knocked off his steed with a heavy blow to the chest. The horses behind Daario, which were carrying Rakharo, Jhogo and other Dothraki riders scattered out of the way momentarily to avoid being collided into and watched as a certain woman rounded her horse back towards the man on the ground coughing violently and clutching his chest as he tried to get air back into his lungs.
"For that comment, Daario Naharis." the feminine voice sounded, urging the brunette man's eyes to snap open.
Ranta Naylor was back on her feet and had been set in one prickly mood ever since waking up from her long medical induced slumber.
"You can walk the rest of the way to Winterfell." Ranta said stiffly to the flattened man and without waisting another second, squeezed her heels into the sides of her horse to get him moving again - grabbing the reigns of Daario's horse as she went. Falling back into travel formation, Rakharo and the war lords shared their chuckles amongst one another, guiding their horses around the second son captain slowly getting back to his feet.
Trotting past her traveling companions who had stopped to wait for the monarch, Ranta returned to her original position in line with an additional horse as if she hadn't just knocked its rider off.
"I see you're feeling healthy again." Daenerys failed to fight the smirk on her face. "Never felt better." Ranta replied, throwing a glance to Jorah who was giving her a combination of a relieved and thankful expression. The monarch tilted her head towards him once before facing forward again, the war mace attached to her side was a weighted comfort. Jon Snow next to her eyed the weapon with a careful eye as they traveled side by side and remained silent.
"As tackless as he may have said it." Missandei spoke up from her horse beside Grey Worm, "The North does seem to be a lot more barren than what we seen during our first time here. Where is everyone, lord Snow?" she asked. "I'm not sure." Jon admitted, "but I'm sure my sister Sansa has something to do with it." he stated. "If she's smart, she would have ordered everyone to flock to Winterfell." Ser Barristan commented. " It would at least explain why the towns are so empty." Jorah agreed.
Ranta remained silent on the matter, returning to inwardly stewing as she had been for a while now. It was something that Jon took notice of and couldn't help but stare at her from time to time, wondering what could possibly be going through her mind. While Jon wondered about the thoughts plaguing the monarch's mind, the woman herself kept replaying what she had been told by Jorah and Barristan in her room before they reached port.
In all honesty, each man did their fair share of murmuring into her ear about what she needed to know about the North. Jorah and Barristan both gave her first hand knowledge on how the northerners were.
"You must remember, your grace, northerners don't trust outsiders and they have their pride." Jorah cautioned. "There were prideful people back in Essos. How did that turn out for them?" Came Ranta's reply. " Not very well." Jorah acknowledged, "but I'm afraid killing the high nobles and their families won't work this time." He shook his head.
"The people here are different than in Essos. They aren't bound in chains, forced into labor and whipped when they don't do as they're told by those richer than them. You won't be liberating them from anything." Jorah explained.
"To some you are a foreign conquerer, no matter what family you come from." Barristan chimed in, "And a damned powerful one at that. A female version of Aegon Targaryen the first." he drolled.
"Is that what they're saying in the Stormlands?" Ranta asked with a furrowed brow but when she didn't get a reply, the blue haired woman got her answer. "Fantastic." Ranta ran a hand through her wavy locks. "Remind me again how killing them isn't the answer?" she questioned with a quirked brow but there was no true meaning in her words. It was a rhetorical question aimed at the duo.
Jorah huffed with a ghost of a smile on his lips and set a hand on her knee. "Do you remember what I told you all those years ago when we were with the Dothraki at the very start of our journey?" he wondered. "That you'd get me more bread and honey?" Ranta joked lightly. "Well that," the Mormont agreed good naturedly and then sobered.
" But more importantly, you have a good heart. A gentle one. Not only will you be respected and feared but you will be loved. After this war they will come to see you as what you truly are. For now you must keep what we said in mind. Have patience with them, your grace, no matter the original reaction." Jorah advised
It seemed so troublesome to have to tiptoe around such wiry people. They should be kissing the ground at her feet. She was saving them and they were now officially her subjects knowingly or not.
Alas, though…. it was politics and politics required patience if it was to be successful. Tyrion taught her that much. Ranta exhaled through her nose heavily at the reminder, she supposed she could do that...even if she wasn't off to a good start in regards to her own entorage.
The monarch even dared to think that she may as well put herself in the ground. In contrast to how she usually looked thanks to the natural tan she got from the sun, she looked sick and pale now to those who knew her. Sick, pale and in over her head.
Scarred, burned and mangled. Ranta subtly caressed the rune symbols up the lengths of her legs before moving onto her arms and in the center of her collar bone. Poisoned. Where the arrow struck, there were blackened veins surrounding the intial entry point of the arrow. The maester on board the ship when she had awoken and asked about it had said that it was a form of scarring and reconfirmed that the poison was clear out of her system.
Old at the age of twenty-five and childless was the final assessment of herself. Maybe she should of accepted the marriage offer from Qarth all those years ago. "Even Rhaegar married though he didn't do it out of love...what makes you think you're the exception?" Ranta murmured to herself. "How do you expect you're rule to remain in place after you're dead and gone?" she then wondered but then scoffed.
"If we even survive." the blue eyed woman continued to speak to herself, too quiet for anyone to hear clearly. Ranta Naylor. Daughter of Dasina and Ronas Naylor, neice of Colren Naylor, cousin to Tarla Naylor and many to the Naylorian House, adopted sister of Daenerys Targaryen, Viserys Targaryen and Rhaegar Targaryen. Adopted daughter of Rhaella Targaryen and the Mad King Aerys Targaryen.
"The Storm Queen, Queen of the Unsullied, Queen of Mereen, Little Sister of the Dothraki, Liberator of Slaver's Bay, Savior of the Summer Isles, and Mother of Beasts" a sad frown graced a beautiful face. "How does any of that make you Queen of Westeros?" she asked quietly. A dead man's declaration that's how and he hadn't even been crowned king. She really was just a conqueror .
A woman following in the footsteps of Aegon Targaryen.
How ironic was that?
The dress the Naylor wore was made of a dark blue fabric with white fur on the inside, the coloring was designed to make her lighter shade of blue hair pop out. Around her neck and shoulders, the fur had re-emerged from under the blue material to offer its wearer additional warmth around the head area. Golden swirls adorned the dress to give it some additional coloring.
"Snap out of it, Ranta." the woman cursed herself. "There's no time for these kinds of thoughts, you're in too deep now." Ranta hissed, fiddling with her two low hanging pony tails and cast over each of her shoulders over her chest. "Thank you for riding with me." Jon suddenly said, moving his horse closer to the woman and cautiously at that. It took a long moment and intense staring from said man to get the monarch to react.
"You shouldn't thank me." Ranta murmured, showing that she was indeed listening and was made aware of what was going on around her. Her response threw the dark haired man off a bit though, "Why not?" he questioned. "Because I won't be riding with you for much longer." the woman revealed. "Once the hills of Winterfell come into sight, our party will split off in different directions. You are going to remain with Jorah and Barristan during the split." Ranta instructed.
"Why are we going to split and in which way?" Jon asked confused, frowning heavily. "Give us a few hours and you'll see why. It's a form of compromise from the queen to please us both" Jorah answered for the monarch. After this had been said, Ranta paid little attention to what else had been said because her focus had been diverted onto her uncle and his mount who had gallopped up beside her.
"Come with me." Colren murmured with a gentle touch to her arm. "We need to discuss how this battle is to go." he said shortly. "Now?" Ranta quirked a brow, hinting at the inefficiency of the logic. "Yes, now. The women in particular need an audience." The serious tone to her usual good natured uncle had the monarch moving without question, tugging on her horses' reigns and following after her relative who led her towards where the rest of the House was in the train of soldiers.
"Follow me." Ranta said shortly upon arrival, turning her horse away from them all and sent him gallopping up the hilllside without pause.
As the Naylorians clammored after their blue leader on their own steeds, Ranta awaited patiently for them all. It was during this waiting period did she note that there were not many of them. In fact there was only a dozen or so who followed her up the hillside, Colren amongst them, as the others traversed on with the rest of the train.
"The officers so to say." Colren broke the silence, as if reading her mind. Dasina Naylor was amongst them but Ranta ignored this fact after a breif moment. "Dearest uncle has told me you needed an audience." the monarch began, "What is it?" she asked.
"You're putting us on the front lines." A red head spoke, her voice wasn't smooth and feminine like most were. It was rough but still held an appeal to it. " That wasn't a question…." Ranta trailed off. "Jelissa, nice to officially meet you cousin." the red head informed, her brown eyes twinkling in the sunlight and a few skecks of grey hair twinkled as well.
Ranta nodded her head in a silent return of the feelings. "As for before, yes it was a statement. Our numerical situation isn't pretty. My mother, father, brothers and I trained many of our house in combat with blades. Best damn Westerosi fighters you'll ever see." Jelissa said plainly. "They're human, our enemies aren't. We're bound to tire out much more quickly than the dead will. What's your plan for when that happens?" she questioned.
"We won't be fighting with blades, not directly or at will be taking our place." Ranta shook her head. "Stelsa, my queen." a fellow greying blonde woman spoke up next, much more respectfully than Jelissa.
"We'll still tire, we will get sloppy. Mistakes will be made and lives will be lost because of our failures." she shook her head with a concerned frown. "I know." Ranta acknowledged. "I know we will tire. More than any of you possibly could understand." she foretold.
"I was there, beyond the wall fighting them by myself. Even with the dragons helping, helping to create firestorms and keeping the dead at bay….I grew tired. It won't matter that we have all five fire breathers here fighting with us, because not all five will be out at the same time." Ranta informed.
"We will get sloppy, mistakes will be made and people will die. That's unavoidable but we don't need to slaughter them all, all we need to do is hold out until the Night King shows his face. When he goes, the rest will follow." Ranta said resolutely. "That is the problem though, isn't it?" Dasina said a bit hesitantly, "Holding out." she repeated and twirled her hand absently at her side, causing the ground to shift this way and that until a faceless replica of the woman stood next to her.
"There aren't many of us who can use the earth and those of us who can use water will be at an disadvantage" the ravenette said softly, placing a blade in the clone's hands provided by her brother. With a series of hand gestures, the group of women were watching the earthern copy display a series of fighting moves with the weapon before coming to a halt once more.
After reclaiming the blade for herself, the clone disintegrated in place with ease. "House Naylor will be on the front lines. Whatever clones that can be mustered will be present as well." Ranta restated unmoved, shutting down the concern and herself essentially.
"We'll hit the first wave of the dead hard with what we got and then retreat in efforts to recover. After we fall back, the others will join the fight and we'll keep that rotation pattern going for as long as we can. More details are soon to come. I have to see what we will be working with in Winterfell before continuing with strategy." the monarch concluded blankly.
"But-" Colren even tried but the monarch had already turned her horse and moved off before he could finish, leaving loosened jaws and incredulous expressions behind. The blue haired woman kicked her horse into a faster pace in order to catch up to her travel companions but instead of joining the line, she remained on the hillside - traveling beside them instead of with. The monarch however didn't get to be alone for long.
Jorah or even Barristan would have been expected to approach the monarch but to her surprise it had been Rakharo. The war lord however had remained silent. Hadn't uttered a word and it was for that the Little Sister of the Dothraki was grateful.
0o.0o.0o.0o.0o.
A majority of the population had been accounted for. All of them laying outside the walls of Winterfell in pitched tents. The only one that was missing was the Greengoods but it was assumed that they would arrive when Ranta Naylor does. In the open lands outside the walls did people train as well, swords were constantly clashing throughout the day - arrows constantly piercing targets.
Only the elderly and young children could be seen keeping to themselves in some fashion - out of the way of the soldiers and black smiths forging the weapons that would be needed in the battle to come.
Though food from the Reach had arrived, it was still carefully rationed and escentially put under lock and key. To get to it, it had to go through Sansa which was no easy task for the ginger. Winter was hard enough on the northerners and many of them already showed signs of being affected but she couldn't give in to requests for extra rations. Not when there was a larger force coming yet.
Sansa had been explaining that to some struggling farmers who would soon be turned into soldiers when there was a rumble in the air that caused all to still one by one. It sounded like hooves pounding against the earth. Thousands of them there had to have been, and that was far too many to belong to any one coming in from the country side.
Then came the screams. Not screams of terror but ones that induced said fear that echoed and amplified by the hills and open air surrounding Winterfell. Sansa blinked harshly when she was suddenly partially shoved by one of many people rushing to get passed the gates housing them from the wind. However instead of joining them, Sansa took to climbing up the stairs of the castle to reach the upper parts of the wall to see what was coming.
Arya didn't take long to join her and nether did Davos. " The dead don't scream do they?" Arya wondered with some level of doubt as her eyes remained glued to the horizon. "Those aren't the white walkers or wights." Davos answered before Sansa could.
"Ranta Naylor has arrived with her army."
Sansa's jaw slacked slightly when the horizon was soon filled with thousands of screaming men who came pouring over the fields to the east. "Dothraki war lords." Arya breathed at her side. Men who seen battle as sport. "Look at them all." the young wolf continued to be amazed, the stream of men and horses seemed to be endless.
"Issa Morghon!" No one knew how, but somehow a voice rose above the screams and caused others to look to the west.
"Issa Morghon!" came an echoed cried from thousands of men as well and on that horizon as well did men appear though they did not ride on horses. "The Unsullied and Second Sons." Arya murmured with an appreciative smirk, pleased to see the Unsullied again and this time with sell swords. The world's best soldiers combined from across the sea.
"Issa ābrar!"
"Issa ābrar!"
"Issa Morghon. Issa ābrar, īlon lilagon isse ānogar!"
"Issa Morghon. Issa ābrar, īlon lilagon isse ānogar!"
From the fields below outside of the sturdy walls of Winterfell, did the people at the sight. No matter the class, age, occupation, or gender - all jaws were slackened to a degree and eyes widened. "Is that her entire army?" Podrick whispered to Brienne who stood next to him outside the walls of Winterfell to help men train. "Only half from what I heard from Davos." the blonde answered in an equal level of voice. Only half of her army and yet it was a force to be reckoned with through sight alone.
All that was missing was the main attraction and as if reading the minds of the Stark girls, Davos turned to the south - only to see the star of the show themselves. Behind a caravan of people, of which had to of been made up of House Naylor since they were the only ones not accounted for yet, were five lumbering beasts. Yes five grounded beasts.
Davos was surprised to see that the dragons were not flying as they usually were and found it strange. Though what wasn't strange, was to see a familiar blue head atop the tan form of the dragon dubbed Rhaegal.
Dothraki to the east. Unsullied and Second Sons to the West. House Naylor to the South. What a fearsome sight indeed. Fearsome but reassuring to the man, it gave Davos hope that they would survive the Long Night. While the flea bottom man mulled over his own raging thoughts, so did Ranta.
She really had not been lied to when she was told there were less than ten thousand in the North. Her eyes rolled over the many upon her high perch when Rhaegal and his brothers ventured closer to Winterfell. Many, if not all, of the poor sods had wide eyes and disbelieving expressions upon their faces as the Naylorian force traveled forward - slinking backwards to avoid getting too close to the snarling and growling basilisks and dragons.
Exhaling through her nose, Sansa moved away from the wall and meandered down the stairs with Arya and Davos trailing after. A heavy frown was graced upon the read heads lips, a sharp contrast to Arya's pleased smirk. As the Stark girls walked through the clearing within the walls, Bran and the other lords and ladies of Winterfell followed after in order to meet the Naylor monarch outside.
With Colren and Dasina at the head of the house, the siblings drew their family to a stop when they noticed the approaching wolves who had soon come to a stop as well. An awkward silence filled the air as each party stood looking at each other. During this silence the Essosian army had trickled down and with the descent came the Storm Queen's usual group of confidants and then finally Jon Snow.
Jon had been fully prepared to give Sansa a subtle taste of his mind for ruining his plans but when he saw Bran, all thoughts of such thing fled his mind. Scrambling off of his horse the Stark bastard raced up to his now smiling brother and places a firm kiss to his forehead. "Look at you. You're a man" Jon said, voice full of emotion. " Nearly" Bran dared to smile in return.
Bran then looked over to Arya who Jon didn't hesitate to embrace heartily, the gesture returned without fail. Feeling a pair of eyes burn holes into her skull, Ranta faced towards the sensation and discovered it had been Bran. Upon seeing the wheelchair bound boy, Ranta's head tilted to the side curiously and with a subtle touch to Rhaegal - the dragon was lowering himself down to the ground with a low chitter.
Sliding off his back, Ranta landed on the ground soundly. "Take a break." the woman murmured with a pat to Rhaegal's neck. The tan dragon snorted a huff of cold air and pushed of the ground with his powerful legs, his wings stirring up a great load of snow and dust as they flapped down once to get the grand creature into the air. Drogon and Viserion were quick to follow, Vaemarr and Laemyx following below as usual - people tripping over one another to get far away from the duo.
Walking forward with her head held high and proud, the woman did not fail to draw attention to herself from the other lords and ladies of Winterfell. "Bran Stark." Jon's attention drew off of his youngest sister and onto Ranta as she emerged from the swell of Naylors. "I'm glad to see you found your way home and are well." the blue haired woman said kindly.
"Thank you, I am glad to see you are well also." Bran returned, a knowing look to his eye. The interaction between the two was very interesting to Jon but instead of commenting on it he pulled away from his sister and retreated to Ranta's side.
" I believe you remember my sisters, Sansa and Arya." the man intoned, said duo getting a polite head nod in greeting after receiving small polite bows. Sansa's stiff posture and well hidden but still noticeable sour expression did not escape the monarch. "And I believe you remember mine." Ranta returned, the silvery blonde Targaryen appearing by her side as she said this.
"Daenerys Targaryen." the Naylor introduced, Dany mimicking the head nod from earlier. "You kept your promise." Arya noted pleased to the violet eyed woman, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Did you expect any less?" Daenerys replied amused, inwardly recalling the promise the dragon and wolf exchanged in regards to the Dothraki last time they had interacted. "More, on the contrary." Arya batted back with out fail.
"I do believe it's time I keep my promise as well then." Jon pipped in before the conversation coould continue. "My lords and ladies of the North" Jon raised his voice so it would echo throughout the area, the hills aiding his voice to carry. "I would like to present to you, Queen Ranta of House Naylor." the wolf declared and then sunk onto one knee with a bowed head as he once did weeks ago and then rose to his feet once more.
The blue haired monarch didn't bother to look at the reactions of the other nobles, her eyes remained on Sansa during the entire time, the red head's expression had failed to change. "The North remains to have its wintery charm just as I remember." Ranta stated after a heart beat of silence. "Hopefully, by working together it will remain that way through these dark days ahead." the blue haired woman said eloquently.
"Shall we move forward to get everyone caught up on everything?" Ranta asked Sansa in particular. The corners of the red head's lips tilted upwards but Ranta could not detect any geniunity in the movement, "Winterfell welcomes you with open arms, your grace. It would be my pleasure." the red head bowed her head and moved off to the side, triggering others to do so until a path was cleared for the monarch.
"Varys." Ranta then turned to the spider. "Where is her shadow?" the eunuchh could only shrug in reply with a regretful expression upon his face. "Find him and keep an eye on him with my Hand. Surely even the wintery birds here could help the both of you." Ranta instructed. "Yes, your grace." Varys replied in common with a nod of his head. Tyrion looked like he wanted to say something but wisely kept his mouth shut.
"Get everyone settled in." she added to Daario and Ser Barristan, the Selmy and captain moved off with out hesitation - shouting commands in both languages for the Essosians to understand with ease. "Grey Worm, Jorah, Missandei. Come along." Ranta beckoned, "You too, uncle." she said as an after thought.
Jon suddenly appearing at her side to accompany the small group did not surprise the exotic blue haired woman but he did gain looks because of it from the northern nobles who followed after with their eyes. "Wouldn't you like to rest first?" Jon asked. "Little time for that I'm afraid." Ranta replied, looking about as they passed the gates of the Keep.
There wasn't much space to work with to do any type of fighting on the inside…
"This place is smaller than I remember." Colren voiced the thoughts of his niece. "Even Castle Black has more room than this." Jorah agreed with a frown. "It does well enough." Sansa quipped stiffly. "What strategies have you put together so far?" Ranta cut in, waving a hand at the men in an effort to silence them. " None."
That had been considered strike one in Ranta's book. "None?" She echoed unamused, the tone clear to be heard. Licking her lips, Sansa forced herself to remain calm and neutral as she offered up an explanation. " I thought that the top priority as lady Winterfell was to make sure my people would be safe and that meant pulling them from the country side. I didn't want to devise a plan military wise because I did not know how your men operate on the field."
"So there are no basic defenses in place should the dead come rolling through right this moment?" Ranta asked, causing Sansa to pause on the stairs they had begun to climb and could only look at the monarch wordlessly. Ranta however hadn't paused and continued to climb until she was on the same stair as the red head. "You wouldn't have made it long Essos. As a commoner, slave or noble." she stated plainly and continued on her way.
Stupidity was a death sentence.
o.0o.0o.0o.0o.0o.0o.0o.0o.
"Line the catapults here, behind the trench. We'll cover the boulders with oil, set them a blaze and launch them forward." Many watched as the blue monarch moved forward the small catapult pieces into place on the map before them. All were silent and watched intently what she did. "Instead of wooden spikes, we will have dragon glass spikes planted into the ground as a smaller barrier. If the wights make it that close to Winterfell, they'll die on impact."
"What about inside the trench?" Colren asked absently. "Oil and fire will be waiting at the bottom." Ranta answered without missing a beat. Reaching forward, Colren adjusted his neice's display slightly. He took a few of the spike clusters and moved a few out into the field. "Extend the trench," he suggested.
"I doubt the dead have the capability to jump very far. We do that and it'll be impossible for them to touch the Keep. Then we can afford to move those spikes out." Colren explained, looking down at her for approval. Ranta didn't meet him in the eye, instead she took pieces representing the Naylorian woman and placed them by the spikes.
"The wind women will be here. Them and their clones can help set the dead on fire if we set them ablaze." she stated and Colren nodded in agreement. She then moved pieces that represented wooden pyres and scattered them about the field as well, the wooden structures would be set ablaze in order to add light sources throughout the field.
Ranta placed lines of Naylor pieces on the front lines and then did lines of unsullied, second sons, and dothraki. "We will attack in rotational waves." Ranta said absently.
"The Unsullied, and some northern troops will relieve us when the time comes. When they tire we will go back out. The pattern will continue except then it will be the Seconds sons with northern troops and then again with the Dothraki. Rhaegal will come out whenever I am on the field. Viserion with the Unsullied and Drogon with the Dothraki. Vaemarr and Laemyx with the Second sons." Ranta finished and exhaled, resting her hands behind her back.
"Let's start preparing the defenses. Modifications can be done later." the woman stated, dismissing the others. While the room emptied, Ranta noticed that Grey Worm had hesitated purposedly and so did Missandei though she was just waiting her turn to exit.
"My queen," the soldier approached her. "What is it?" Ranta answered. "I am considered to be...trusted, yes?" Grey Worm began and Ranta nodded her head, motioning the man to continue, "One of my most valued and trusted friends." she said as fact.
"Then perhaps I may speak freely."
"Speak."
"I do not think Missandei should be on the field." Grey Worm said bluntly. "What?!" the translator exclaimed from her spot by the door and quickly closed the distance between her and them. "Your grace, do not listen to him. I am more than willing to be on the battle field.I've done it before" she glared heatedly at the man as she said this last part.
"Who would you have me put with Viserion then as opposed to Missandei?" Ranta asked, ignoring the brunette. "He is the most volatile of the three and it's a miracle he accepts Missandei being on his back as it is. He won't take another rider." Ranta stated.
"Which is exactly why I have to ride him." Missandei spoke again, more to Grey Worm than to her. "What if she falls off the dragon or worse, shot down. Should she survive the fall she cannot fight, cannot defend herself." Grey Worm pressed.
"I know how to fight!" Missandei argued. "No you don't" Ranta said and then sighed heavily. The man had a point, Missandei could be knocked off Viserion one way or another and if she did find herself out of the protection of the dragon then she wouldn't make it against the wights. In retrospect Ranta also didn't want Grey Worm shoving a knife into her heart if anything happened to Missandei because she hadn't listened to him.
"Very well Grey Worm, you can get your way." Ranta conceeded with a nod of her head. Hearing this, her stoic friend bowed lowly, "Thank you, my queen." he thanked and straightened, gratefullness somewhat showing on his usually scowling face. "Anything for you, my friend." Ranta smiled weakly. "Have no fear Missandei, you'll still be put to use even if you aren't on the field. You can help the healers." Ranta offered up to the gaping translator and then walked away without waiting for a reply.
She had to figure out Viserion's rider situation - though she supposed she could just switch between dragons with each wave pattern.
Ranta had hardly left the room before Missandei harshly pushed Grey Worm in the chest though he hardly moved from the force she exerted on him. "Why did you do that? What is wrong with you?!" she demanded, a rare show of her temper flaring violently. "You cannot be on the field." Grey Worm didn't react to her shove and merely looked down at his lover with a neutral expression.
"That wasn't your decision to make!" Missandei cried. "No it wasn't. It was the queen's." he replied smartly and was rewarded with a deathly glare. He was sure if she had any less control of herself she would of flat out slapped him for that retort. "Who are you to decide how I serve my queen?" Missandei glared.
"If I am to be out on the field protecting her kingdoms with the other men, women and children of the world on the back of a dragon then I will do so without hesitation. If I should lose my life in the process then I will do so gladly." the brunette asserted firmly.
"That's not an option." Grey Worm said stiffly. "No, apparently it isn't" Missandei glared and whipped around on her heel to leave the room. Before she got more than two steps away, Grey Worm had snatched her upper arm and twirled her to face him. "Don't you see? I am trying to protect you." he glared at the woman. "And who protects you?!" Missandei shot back.
"Your brothers in arms? They'll be too busy watching their own backs let alone yours. With me in the sky…"she exhaled shakily, "at least I could of protected you for once. So I could be sure that you would come back to me." Grey Worm frowned and in a rare display of emotion that was reserved for her especially, he cupped Missandei's cheek with one hand and brought the woman in close.
"I always come back to you. I always will." he promised, her soft and delicate hand coming up to cup the one on her cheek. "You've never fought death before." Missandei whispered, brown eyes watering slightly. Bringing his other hand up, Grey Worm cupped his love's face fully and brought them a hair's width away from one another, "Not even death itsself would be able to keep me from you." Grey Worm whispered and then pressed his lips against hers in a tender kiss.
Descending down into the main square, Ranta was a bit lost in her thoughts but when she processed the fact that Varys was now approaching her, she snapped out of it. "Where is he?" she asked once he was closer. "Waiting to whisper into the ear of Sansa the moment Tyrion moves away." Varys told, turning slightly and nodded in the direction of where the red head stood in the distance with the dwarf by her side.
It was unknown what Tyrion said to her but he succeeded in getting her to take a walk with him, causing Petyr to frown heavily and slink off to a different location. "I also discovered that he is to thank for the chilly reception you received from the lady of Winterfell." Varys informed, each meeting the other's eyes once more. "Is he now?" Ranta stated more than questioned.
"Indeed, my queen. He was listening in on a conversation between Sir Daavos and Brienne and learned of Jon's bending early." Varys tucked his hands into his sleeves as usual. " He told Sansa before we even got here. He also reported how the former King of the North held a soft spot for you and you for him." Varys finished.
Sansa had a pole up her arse because she and her brother were on friendly terms?
"She feels threatened." Varys told, "She's been feeling threatened for quite some time now from what the birds tell me. She's been against your coming ever since it was brought up. She didn't even want Jon to meet you at all back when we first landed at Dragonstone."
Well then. The Naylorian queen's liking for the red head was dropping at a rapid rate and apparently it was reciprocrated. "I suppose telling her that she wouldn't have survived in Essos no matter what status she held didn't help to improve her feelings towards me." Ranta mused with a small smirk. "Most likely not." Varys mirrored her expression.
"So," Ranta exhaled heavily, " the red headed bitch doesn't like to be ruled is what you're telling me. And with Jon under my thumb, in her eyes, it makes it even worse. I've stolen her home and family." Ranta summarized. "Escentially so." Varys nodded. "And with Petyr whispering in her ear, no doubt it's only a matter of time before she discovers something that'll rip my campaign apart or have him do something to acheive the same effects."
"Without question."
"So do we cut his throat now or later?" Ranta asked plainly. Varys blinked and took a moment to answer, "If you cut his throat at all, her dislike for you will only grow. Sansa's been around manipulative, cruel and clever men all her life from the moment she was sent down to King's Landing as a young girl. She's learned a thing or two so unfortunately you won't be cutting the head off the snake so to say."Varys professed.
"With him dead you'll encourage her to irrational and detrimental action. Realistically, to eliminate the threat you would have to kill Sansa and Petyr both." he stated. "And doing that would be basically asking for the North to start a rebellion before I even sit on the throne, possibly even kill me before the Long Night is over." Ranta said knowingly and was met with a confirmation nod.
"We are in a time of chaos, Petyr thrives in it. I've seen him revel in it far too many times while in court. I have no doubt in my mind that he wants the iron throne and if he gets his way, Sansa would be by his side." Well that certainly wouldn't do, now would it?
As if reading her mind, Varys hurried to speak. "One problem at a time, my queen. You worry about protecting your subjects and I will worry about protecting your throne." he assured. Ranta looked off to the side for a moment in contemplation but ultimately nodded.
"Very well Varys, you can get your way." Ranta found herself saying for the second time today and then leaned in to whisper into his ear. "If either one of them oversteps, or if they both do, kill them. We'll deal with the backlash later." and with that Ranta moved off, leaving a frown on the bald man's face.
Varys was beginning to wonder how the Storm Queen would take it if she found out her Hand used to be the husband of the woman she seen as a threat. Whether she knew or not, Varys knew he had to go warn Tyrion and set off to go do exactly that.
The Spider wasn't sure how long he had searched for the dwarf and red wolf but he was sure that he was getting a bit more desperate in his searches and was about to break down and recruit help when he finally spotted the duo parting ways at the entrance to the God's Wood. While Varys hurried up to Tyrion, it did not escape the spy master how Baelish himself had hurried to Sansa's side from out of the shadows.
"You look like you've seen the dead." Tyrion commented after taking in his friend's appearance. "She's not your wife anymore, you need to keep your distance and remain professional with her. Conversations held out in the open, not somewhere hidden." Varys said instead, a sense of urgency in his tone. "What are you talking about?" Tyrion said taken aback, "We were only-"
"Listen to me!" Varys cut off in a sharp whisper that stunned the dwarf, never having been on the receiving end of this type of tone from his friend.
"The queen just ordered me to bring her the heads of Sansa Stark and Petyr Baelish the moment they do anything untoward in relation to her campaign and she doesn't care about the repercussions of it. She's going to spread the news to the others, I'm sure. If Ranta finds out that you two used to be married, let alone walking off for private discussions I fear it'll be your head she demands next." Varys warned.
Tyrion could only blink and do his best to imitate a dying fish out of water for a few good seconds before pulling himself together but before he could speak, Varys beat him to it.
"Come now, don't look so surprised. You know the threat Petyr posses, Sansa too when pushed and believe me, my friend, she has been pushed." the bald man conveyed. "You need to keep your distance from her." Varys reiterated." My snow birds will get us all the information we will need, so there will be no need for you to attempt to try the approach of keeping your enemies close."
0o.0.0o.0o.0o.0.0o.0o.0o.0o.0o.0o.0o.0o.
She tried to ignore the stares but Ranta couldn't help but notice them anyways. As she worked to help the other women of her house create the outline of the trench, the northern men who moved dragon glass out to them often stared. Especially when a hand was simply raised and the obsidian in their possession suddenly floated in mid air and went to the side of one of the woman to be molded into spikes.
"Do you have something to say?" Ranta finally called out, causing some to jump. Straightening from her crouched position, the blue haired woman turned to the commoners with a raised brow. This call had also gained the attention of her family, they too stopping what they were doing and turning to look at the onwatchers curioiusly.
"Easy, love." Colren's voice sounded, the man carting a wheel barrow of material to make the wooden pyres. "They've just never seen a Naylor in work,especially one that was a queen. Isn't that right lads?" the man asked good naturedly. Those watching nodded sheepishly.
Taking this in stride, Ranta resolved to focus her attention on outlining the trench when suddenly a young voice called out to her. "Queen Ranta! Queen Ranta!"
"Rendal, don't run! Wait for us!"
Rendal? Ranta knew that name.
Hardly turning towards the voice, Ranta stumbled a few steps back when a force knocked into her lower half, small hands wrapping around her middle. Recovering, Ranta looked down and seen a head of dark blonde hair and then soon, familiar grey eyes. "Queen Ranta it's been so long! Do you remember me?!" the boy cheerfully asked. A warm smile graced the woman's face upon recognition of the boy. Rendal Greengood. And if she weren't mistaken, his siblings should be-
"Rendal!"
Ranta looked up to see the Greengood fraternal twins, visibly a good deal older, running towards her and their younger brother. "Shale and Selira Greengood," Ranta greeted with a smile upon their arrival. "It's been awhile hasn't it?" she asked with a grin. "My queen!" Selira gasped and bowed with her twin. "It has been. I'm surprised you remember us to be honest." the girl said shyly upon straightening.
"Well of course I would." Ranta grinned. "I remember all of you, you lot look too much like your older brothers to not remember...my how you three have grown." though there wasn't much between she and them, Ranta still recalled how small an innocent they used to be back in Essos.
"Mother says we are to help fight the dead people." Rendal suddenly said, "But I don't get to fight which doesn't make sense because Shale, Selira, Cerran and even mother are able to" he then pouted. His statement was rightfully so. Rendal may of aged but he was still too young to fight, his siblings were another story entirely. Shale and Selira were well within the beginnings of their fighting years. The twins in question had their expressions faulter at the mention of the dead men they would be facing soon.
"You know why you can't Rendal." came the familiar voice of Melarie came. Ranta looked up and caught sight of the single mother and her crippled oldest son. Smiling, Ranta movied forward and wrapped her in a hug - much to the Greengood matriarch's surprise. " It is good to see you again my friend. If only we had reunited under friendlier times." Ranta murmured as Melarie returned the gesture.
"If only so." Melarie returned, the duo separating after a moment. Ranta would forever be grateful to the matriarch, not only for aiding her council when she was gone from Mereen but for birthing such a fierce son that fought in her Second Son unit. Ranta then went ahead and hugged Kirran as well. "I'm glad to see you all have made it here safety." she murmured.
"With more help to say the less." Kirran mused and nodded towards the main road into winterfell when he seen her confused look. Peering around the man, Ranta couldn't help the relieved smile when she seen the banners of house Forrester in the nearby distance. "We drug them out of their little hidey hole and brought them here." Kirran supplied.
Crouching down to Rendal's height, she took the young boys hands in her own and smiled. "Would you like to help us fight the dead men?" she asked. "Yes!" the boy jumped in place eagerly. "Good," Ranta chuckled, "Then I want you to stick to my uncle's side and do whatever he says. Okay? He's right over there and his name is Colren." Ranta pointed out her relative and the moment she did, the young boy had taken off without another word.
"Stay out from under other's feet!" Melarie cried after her son uselessly, sighing on top of it with a shake of her head. "He'll be fine." Ranta assured warmly. "Now then. Come along, I'm going to show Shale and Selira where the children are training after we flag down the Forresters." Ranta proposed, moving off with the older members of the small house.
The way the other northern men followed the interaction escaped her, even so when they seen the Forresters greet the Naylorian queen warmly as well. Lord Forrester going so far as to place a kiss upon her hand upon greeting one another. Her conversation with the hidden house was a similar one as she previously had, the only difference being that Ranta instructed where the suplies they brought with them could go - dispersing some of the house memebers in different directions.
"I seen Ser Barristan training the children earlier off to the side of the men and women training off in the fields. When yours are ready, they can join." Ranta told the lord. Hearing this, Rodrik turned to his people and waved a hand - a silent command to those free of burdens to do as the queen just reccommended.
Soon all that was left was Ranta, Melarie, Rodrik and Kirran. "How have things been since we last met?" Rodrik asked, his eyes glinting in the sun. "Dramatic as all hell." Ranta sighed heavily.
"Though I suppose if it were peaceful then there wouldn't be much of a story to have re-told in the story books." she attempted to joke. "Very true." the Forrester nodded. "How have you've been received so far?" Melarie asked gently. "With wide eyes. A lot of staring." Ranta told lamely. "Better then having them come for your head." Kirran pointed out.
Fair enough.
"Many haven't seen the Naylors in a while, let alone one with everything that you have. They're trying to process and this is good" Melarie wisely said. "Wide eyes and stares are much better than glares and sneers. They'll get over their surprise, and rather soon considering what's coming for us." she assured. "I hope you're right." Ranta said with a small sigh, her eyes trailing over to Kirran.
"Where will you be when the fighting starts?" she wondered. "Hobbling my arse as far away as possible." Kirran chuckled at the dark joke. "Kirran's volunteered to led the women, children and elderly south. Away from all of this mess and into territory that you control." Melarie explained for him. "And you have my thanks." Ranta nodded to him gratefully, Rodrik mimicking her action.
"Yes well." the crippled man sighed deeply, "I won't pretend that I'll be able to move like I used to before I got hurt. I'm better off staying out of the way. Keeping the masses calm in times like these." he stated. "And they'll need something like that. I'll be sure to have this news spread." Ranta assured. "You'd better." Rodrik suddenly said. "The Starks like to hide their vulnerable in the crypts below Winterfell. If you let them get away with that…." he trailed off meaningfully.
It would be like leading a bunch of chickens into a fox pen. Disaster waiting to happen. "Starks are stubborn and one doesn't like me. Come help me make my case." Ranta requested, leading the others to where she believed she last seen Jon Snow.
0.0o.0o.0o.0o0o.0o.0o.0o.0o0o.0o.0o.0o.
Tarla was much like a bear when sleeping, she was a heavy sleeper and when awoken early, she was cranky. "What the fuck are you doing in my quarters, Greyjoy?"
Theon gulped but forced himself to remain strong in front of the groggy Naylorian pirate. "Euron's ship has been in sight for the last few days. Why haven't we made a move yet?" he asked. Scoffing, Tarla adjusted her hat back over her eyes in order to block out his face. "Contrary to your belief, we have made a move. You just haven't been made aware of it." she corrected.
"What do you mean?" Theon questioned, earning a heavy sigh out of the woman.
"The moment Euron's ship came into sight, I had scouts move on in when everyone on our ship was asleep, including you. When they came back in the morning, they reported that Yara wasn't on the ship yet and after some interrogation they found out that Euron hadn't even been on the ship in a while. He's been too busy fucking Cersei, reaping his reward of capturing your sister in the first place after the meeting at Dragon pit. However, according to his loose lipped ship mates, Yara is to be brought back onto the ship any time now. All we have to do is wait." Tarla explained.
"That meeting happened more than a week ago now." Theo pointed out tensely. "All. We have to do. Is. Wait." Tarla reinterated pointedly. However, no sooner had she said this, a frantic knocking came from her doorway. "Apologies cap'n." A sailor panted. "Is the captain's quarters no longer sacred in this shit world we live in?!" Tarla snapped, sitting up and ripping off her hat, glaring murderously.
"What is it?!" She barked. Trembling, the man swallowed the lump in his throat and pointed over his shoulder shakily. "Yara's been seen on the ship. She was just brought on but Euron wasn't with her. We could reclaim her now if we wanted."
Tarla and Theon exchanged breif glances for a moment before the woman was scoffing and violently jerking herself out of bed. "Let's move then! What the fuck are you people waiting for?! Go! Take those sorry bastards out and get the girl!" Tarla instructed as she got dressed. The man nodded and bolted from the doorway in order to repeat her orders, however Theon hadn't moved yet. Something Tarla took notice of.
"What the fuck are you waiting for? Go get your sister!" She exclaimed incredulously. Theon hesitated a moment longer before nodding and hurriedly moving after the men that were clambering outside the room in preparation of the operation that was to occur.
"Stupid fucking Greyjoys." Tarla cursed, jerking on her coat and slamming her hat atop her head before storming out of her quarters to oversee the mission to save Yara Greyjoy.