Just a quick note on time, some POV's are ahead (the assault on the Twins for instance was originally meant to happen around chapter 10 but, I decided that the story would flow better if I put added some action to a few slower chapters), and some are behind (Melisandre should have happened between Chapters six and eight.) Sorry for the inconsistencies, but they are there either for the sake of the story, or because I couldn't finish a POV segment at a certain time.
Flashfoward
The woman was thrown to the floor below the dais by two men of the city watch in Maegor's holdfast. With the absense of the queen and her hand, the governance of King's Landing fell to him. The presence of the City Watch still made him uneasy but he did not fear them, after all he had killed one of them once with nothing but his bared hands.
The woman had hair black as coal, and blue eyes that showed only a flicker of fear.
He hated dealing with spies, or really any kind of cloak and dagger work. It went against everything in him to condemn any woman, but the evidence of her crimes was overwhelming. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. Part of him wanted to blame Tywin Lannister's son whose order to purge the households of several traitors, which resulted in her discovery and capture.
"You have been found guilty of murder, and spying for an enemy of the crown." He felt himself hesitate before continuing. "Do you have anything to say before I pass the sentence?"
She had been waiting for a chance to speak, he could tell. She smiled, but it did not seem to reach her eyes
"My lord husband has a shadow over us all and would be very upset if anything happened to me."
Samwell
The crack of dawn came to Oldtown. Samwell Tarly took a moment to savor the warm winter sun over Oldtown. He was outside the Northgate, waiting for the men who would soon become brothers of the Night's Watch.
A handful of men Hightower men were with him, to await the arrivals.
Sam took several minutes to make a headcount of the recruits that were shown the list that an officer of the City Watch of Oldtown had given him. Over three hundred Ironborn would take the black. In addition, thirty criminals had been taken from the dungeons of Oldtown. In addition were a score of sellswords who had been brought to the rally point in chains. They had attempted to open a gate for the Ironmen.
The disloyal sellswords came first. The leader of the band, Urswyck the Faithful, had also been charged by the Faith Militant of Heresy. A troop of Sparrows escorted these prisoners. Samwell Tarly knew that these men were trouble.
A few minutes later came the outcasts and criminals of Oldtown were escorted to the camp by the City Watch. Many were thieves, some were rapers, and a few were murderers. In addition, there were a few poor souls who came of their own free will. He studied the crowd wondering if he would find any familiar faces.
Sure enough, he saw Pate among them. Did he get caught for stealing? Sam wondered. The pig boy must have gotten in trouble for discovering the Citadel's dirty smallclothes.
Sam really wanted to stay and read the forbidden volumes that Pate had read, but if he stayed beyond today, he would welcome the terrible eye of the Citadel.
"Pate, is that you?" Sam called out.
The deceptively stupid pig boy laughed, "No, it's the pig boy."
"Have you decided to become a brother of the Night's Watch?"
"Well, the archmaester kicked me out. He said I was too dumb to be a maester."
He wants to leave Oldtown, Sam realized.
Only then did Sam note the bulky pack he was wearing. The sneaky little bastard got away with the goods. He would keep his eye on him.
He heard the Ironborn prisoners just before seeing them. The men who escorted them wore the device of a silver sword and a star on a violet field. The boy, who was barking out commands, appeared to be no more than five and ten. He rode up towards Sam.
"Are you Samwell Tarly?" The boy asked. His hair was as fair as honey, and his eyes were a dark indigo.
The one and only, thought Sam. He nodded
"I am Edric Dayne, the lord of Starfall. I shall escort you and your men through the Riverlands."
"Can you escort us to Castle Black?"
"I can promise you no such thing. I volunteered to escort your men, but I must be back with my levies, for the sake of King Aegon and Lord Connington will want me back as soon as I can manage. The war will take me to the Riverlands, and unlikely any place further north than the Green Fork."
"My condolences, for your Lord Commander."
"Have you not heard?" Sam asked, "They say he lives as the son of Rhaegar Targaryen."
"I was aware," Edric replied somberly. "My liege lord Berric Dondarrion was brought back a dozen times by such a priest, before he gave his life for another."
"It is strange to think of your friend as a Targaryen. You know we were milk brothers long ago; we shared the same wet nurse. When Lord Stark came to Starfall with my uncle's bones, he hired a wet nurse for John. I later learned that my aunt Alyria had convinced Ned Stark, to name Wylla as Jon's mother."
"Jon is in the Riverlands last I heard. You might get to see him."
Edric became ill at ease upon hearing that, "now he fights for Stannis Baratheon. If we ever meet, I fear it will be with Dawn in hand."
"Dawn?" Sam had heard plenty about Dawn.
"I am the sword of the morning," Edric replied with a somber sense of pride.
Lord Dayne unsheathed the greatsword which poked up behind his back as if it were a third arm. The sword was unlike anything he had seen. It was as bright as lightbringer and pale as milkglass.
The tip of the greatsword was on the warm midmorning ground, and standing near as tall as its wielder.
"I swear upon Dawn, that I will bring you as far north as King Aegon will allow me."
One of the Ironborn captives laughed at him. "That's a pretty sword there boy, if I wasn't wearing chains, I'd pay the Iron price for it and maybe be the new morning sword."
Before anyone could react, a sergeant in Dayne colors knocked the troublesome prisoner to the ground with the butt of his spear. He would have continued the beating had not Lord Dayne commanded the sergeant to stand back.
He approached the man who had dared to mock him. "I carry Dawn, because I am the Sword of the Morning, not the other way around. It is the deeds of those who carry the sword of my house rather than skill at arms that earns the title."
Dayne barked out a few commands in his lordly voice.
"How many men are you escorting to the wall?"
Sam looked at the subtotals.
"Three hundred seventy eight men will take the Black."
At least from Oldtown, but he had no idea what Ned Dayne would think about passing through King's Landing.
Cersei
A sea of faces highborn and lowborn followed her down the cavernous Hall of a Hundred Hearths. Yule logs were burning in at least a dozen of the Hearths.
Her arms were bound handcuffs, and concealed to the lords and ladies who saw her by a crimson towel that covered her hands.
On her right was Sansa, her good sister. On her left was Margaery Tyrell, her good daughter. Behind them all was Lanna, her niece who wore a bulky tunic that easily concealed a pointed knife, just in case Cersei refused to take another step.
Cersei continued with the pace set for her.
"Don't embarrass yourself… mother." Margaery Tyrell had told her earlier. "Harrenhal is a great castle with great towers where accidents can happen."
She understood the meaning too well. Margaery did not want the wedding to happen. If anything happened to Tommen, Margaery would no longer get to call herself queen. If anything happened to her on the other hand, Margaery would have a more secure queenship.
Cersei felt the eyes of the guests; they looked at her the same way the small folk did when she was marched naked from the Great Sept. They held back their bawdy jeers, for now at least.
Littlefinger was looking at her with excitement, but it was not because he was about to wed the Light of the West. No, when he looked at her, he saw a Kingdom within easy grasp. This marriage would be worse than her marriage to Robert. When she looked him in the eyes, it was clear that he knew she was going to kill him the first chance she got. Not only that but his eyes seemed to say try it.
"Who comes before the eyes of gods and men?" The septon called dryly.
"Cersei Lannister, widow of Robert Baratheon and mother of the king," Margaery called out. You forgot Queen Dowager, bitch.
"Who gives the bride?"
The septon cleared his throat. Sansa and Margaery exchanged a look.
"Lanna Hill, the base born daughter of Tyrion Lannister, who is her niece," the bastard spoke up before either Sansa or Margaery could say anything. The aging septon gave her a look of dispproval, but said nothing.
The ceremony passed as if it were a nightmare, and when the time came, Littlefinger greedily yanked away the Maiden's cloak. Cersei remembered that it was the same cloak that Tyrion had put on Sansa long before.
When Petyr put the cloak on her, it felt like a noose and might as well have been.
He moved around to face her. "With this kiss, I pledge my love," she felt his lips which were like two snakes.
The wedding feast was a cold affair.
She spotted a homely old cow of a woman, Cersei recognized her as Brienne of Tarth. This was the ugly wench that Jaime ran off with?
Cersei had known that Jaime was held in Riverrun briefly before it fell to what some were calling Catelyn Stark's ghost. If that's true, then I have Gregor's Ghost.
This woman would know more, about Jaime.
"Lady Brienne, have you tired of serving my brother?"
The thick witted cow had the decency to look guilty when she asked.
"I don't serve your brother, your grace."
"No, I can see that, but you do love him."
The color in the woman's cheeks turned slightly red and for a moment just stared as if she wanted to deny it.
"He was like a brother to me."
Jaime only has one sister, Cersei inwardly seethed. If Brienne was but a little shorter, Cersei would have thrown the chains that bound her hands over her head and strangled Jaime's new lover. She had killed lesser women who wanted Jaime's affections.
Her angry thoughts were interrupted when she noticed the young boy at her side. Cersei also recognized the boy as Podrick Payne, Tyrion's former squire. He had suddenly become very nervous and began tugging at the woman's sleeve.
"Not now Podrick," she brushed him off.
"Would you like to dance?" It was Sansa.
Podrick's face went from nervous to bright red nervous, "d-d-dance."
She took him by the hand and led him to the floor before he could studder out an objection. Cersei laughed despite everything. Your secret is out, Sansa Stark. It would not matter if she used her wiles on her husband's squire.
Tyrion
"My lord, we found some interesting tracks."
Not more wolf tracks, Tyrion hoped.
The wolves in the riverlands were said to be quite vicious. It was also said that they targeted any invasion force that occupied the surrounding territory. Catelyn Stark's bones must be rattling in delight, thought Tyrion. Is this your revenge Lady Stark?
"What did you find this time, Ser Tumco?"
"Cavalry tracks, most likely a hundred or so horseman heavily armored and heading north. I am certain that they came from the Reach."
His first instinct suggested that Aegon had sent a scouting party to the Riverlands. A hundred horsemen could capture many important places in the area, but would not be able to hold any place outside a castle wall for long.
The main branch of the Blackwater Rush was a day's march behind and King's Landing was nearly a week behind. Less than a few hours away was Stony Sept, or so the scouts told him. That the riders had chosen to avoid a sizable town with good shelter during the winter suggested that secrecy was a priority. Especially given that a storm would be coming tonight. The men knew it, and were marching at a slightly faster pace than usual in hope of making town before the storm hit, which was looking very likely.
"What direction did they appear to be going?"
"Slightly east of north, we followed the tracks to a branch of the Rush, about ten miles from here; the tracks are no more than six hours old."
"Where they trying to avoid us?" Tyrion was suspicious now.
The dark skinned knight chewed on that for a moment. "Hard to say my lords, from the look of the tracks, I would say they were in a hurry."
"Might be didn't they want our food stores," Bronn suggested with the insolent sarcasm that Tyrion somehow found endearing.
"That will be all Ser Tumco, you have my thanks." The knight of the red Basilisk gave a mocking dip of the head that somehow reminded Tyrion of Oberyn Martell.
He turned towards Belicho. "See if you can find anybody that's been to the Riverlands lately, start with Hoster." He wanted to know more about how things stood from the smallfolk's point of view. From what he had heard about the Riverlands lately, even a simple-minded peasant could pose a threat to any outsiders.
His squire rode off. He chewed over the thought of this development. If they were going north east from here, and if they were in such a hurry to cross a small river that could have been no longer than half a day's length, they were not headed for Riverrun. There was only one logical possibility here, Harrenhal. At the moment, he had received no word on events at Harrenhal, but he was certain that Cersei had been betrayed by Littlefinger the same way he sold out Ned Stark. There was no way the former master of coin would put up with his mad sister for long, with Stannis at the Twins and Daenerys Targaryen in King's Landing. Who would bid the most for Petyr Baelish, Tyrion wondered? Not Stannis that was certain, even with the support of the Iron Bank.
Tyrion's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Hoster Blackwood. He was fond of the boy, he had to admit. Tyrion rarely thought about the idea of being a father, but to him, Hoster was the closest thing he would have to a son.
"You wanted to speak with me, my lord?"
"Yes."
"How were things in Raventree Hall when you left it?"
"They were much better, the siege ended and Lord Bracken went home mostly disappointed." Tyrion had not given too much thought to rivalries between houses in the Riverlands aside from the Freys and everybody else. He had known that Brackens and Blackwoods never really got along, but he was unsure about the extent of the feud, aside from the old tale of Bloodraven and Bittersteel.
"How strong is the feud between the Blackwoods and Brackens?"
Hoster thought about his answer for a moment, "truth be told, it's kind of silly, we Blackwoods have much Bracken blood, and the Brackens have a good deal of Blackwood blood. Our houses have spent generations brooding over things our ancestors have done to one another."
"A feud between kin, believe me Hoster, I understand quite well."
"My lord, the best thing you can do for the Riverlands is bring back their liege lord, not Baelish, but Tully."
Tyrion had heard a report from a rider in the night which included information on Edmure Tully's wherabouts. He was currently imprisoned at the Golden Tooth, with an amassed 6,000 Westermen who would soon be marching west, but not before he reached Riverrun.
"Edmure Tully is currently out of my reach."
"The Tullys have been the only family capable of holding this torn land together, since Aegon's Conquest, and Lord Edmure is your uncle by marriage besides."
Tyrion felt his jaw twitch in annoyance at the mention of his marriage. The Tullys had brought him had naught but grief over the years, the Starks were little better.
Damn them all, the Starks and Tullys.
Lady Catelyn and Lady Lysa had both tried to have him killed. He could at least respect Catelyn Stark for her reasons.
Her children had also brought him grief. Bran Stark, who he only wanted to help, served only to to become a lynchpin for a conflict between the lions and the wolves. And of course there was Sansa. She had abandoned him in his hour of greatest need because of a murder she that she may have commited.
Tyrion had no problem with the actual killing of Joffrey; nobody as far as he knew had more right to justice. Joffrey was her's, just as father was mine. He would not forgive Sansa however, for disappearing and leaving him with a free pass to Ser Ilyn. Someday his wife would answer for that.
"My lord," a voice that might as well have belonged to a local shook him out of his thoughts.
It was a girl who wore a shirt of light mail. For someone no older than thirteen namedays, she had a harsh beauty. He was pretty certain that the girl was also a spy on behalf of the queen.
"What's your name girl?"
Her face twitched nervously, the way many women did when they saw him for the first time, "Jeyne Rivers."
"So you come from the Riverlands, where?"
"Stoney Sept, my lord." The girl answered almost too quickly.
"That seems lucky; do you relish the prospect of home?"
"No." She answered with sadness. "I lost my home and my family during the last war."
Tyrion knew what she meant. His abduction by Catelyn Stark was answered by his father with the Mountain that Rides. The locals were not like to forget the name of his house, and the destruction that Tywin Lannister had laid upon this land.
"Do you know who holds the Stoney Sept currently?"
The Jeyne Rivers shrugged, "what does it matter, its brotherhood land."
The nonchalant manner of that statement suggested that she knew more than she was telling.
"What do you know about the Brotherhood without Banners?"
She paused for a moment as if to recall some lost memory. "The Brotherhood, wanted to defend the Riverlands from the Mountian that rides, or at least that's what they did during the war."
Much had changed since the Red Wedding, and the girl had probably left her homeland at about the same time he did. Tyrion decided not to press the issue.
Not that he would need to; a rider arrived and promptly addressed him.
"My lord, I bear urgent news from Harrenhal."
Tyrion could sense the bad news before he read the dispatch.
Cersei Lannister entered Harrenhal, where she was promptly betrayed, and forced to marry Lord Petyr Baelish under threat of death. Lord Baelish now holds a claim to the Seven Kingdoms as a whole, and has marshalled an army of at least 23,000 troops. There is more troubling news concerning you Lord Lannister, his first act as king was to legitimize a bastard girl named Lanna Hill, whom he claims to be your daughter by your first wife. Also Lord Baelish claims to have a bastard daughter of his own named Alayne Stone, who is clearly someone other than his daughter, in fact her description nearly matches the description you gave of Lady Sansa, your second wife. Keep vigilance my lord, this man has many surprises that have yet to find fruitition.
The air around him suddenly felt much colder.
The magnitude of what he had just read, was just too great to properly understand right now.
Sansa, his throat felt dry. If she was with Littlefinger, then that meant...
Shit. Shit. Shit.
It meant that Littlefinger was the mastermind behind Joffrey's murder. He had the means but not a sensible motive; not unless he planned to sit on the Iron Throne himself someday.
And who was Lanna Hill, was she truly his daughter by Tysha? If she was, then she was also under the care of Littlefinger too. The thought of Littlefinger having his daughter gave him only rage.
Suddenly he heard shouts.
One of his Golden Men, one with less armor galloped towards his horse and jumped from the saddle snatching him from his horse and grounding him in a snowbank, just in time, for a few arrows the fly over their heads.
"Are you hurt?" The guard asked shielding Tyrion's dwarf body with his own.
"I think I broke an arm, what in Seven Hells is happening?"
"My lord, we've been ambushed!"
"Thank you, Ser Obvious!" Tyrion snarled back. Right now somebody needed to die.
Next Up: Davos, Dany, Arya, and maybe Brienne
Well, it's only going to get better from here.
just in the spirit of curiousity, who is your favorite POV for this story, your least? Let me know via PM or Review.