Wild Wolf

by Vimesenthusiast

Fed up with life in Nerima, Ranma runs away, only to be followed by Happosai, who has a magic scroll he want to try out. It works but Ranma suddenly finds himself in Westeros replacing the champion chosen by the old gods in a time of great peril for humanity. How will the world change with the Wild Wolf raised in the den of wolves? A lot. Thanks to Naj. P. Jackson for the picture.

12. Chapter 12

I do not own Ranma 1/2 of ASOIAF. Obviously.

Thanks go to Anthony44 for once more being my sounding board/source of info for all things ASOIAF and for betaing the chapter.

Chapter 12 Blood In The Water, Arriving Flame

From where he stood at the front of the ship he had designated as his flagship for his triumphal return to Westeros, Viserys laughed quietly under his breath as he watched the small patrol boats of Planky Town scattering here and there. "It seems as if we have dropped a few stones into a pond here, my dear." He said looking over at where his queen was sitting underneath an awning on a bed of pillows.

Nodding, Arianne smirked a little. "I predict that reaction will not be the only ripple your arrival causes; my king." She always called him 'your grace' or 'my king' in public, it never hurt to butter Viserys up. It made him easier to control something she knew would be needed in the future. The edge she saw in him hadn't faded, indeed it had become more visible every time they talked about their plans going forward, but at least she had become very adroit at steering him using her various wiles. Arianne went on, looking at where Balerion was tethered by a heavy chain next to her husband. "Especially when news of your Balerion spreads."

Viserys nodded judiciously, but they both knew that it would be at least another year before Balerion was ready to be ridden. Though he did not know it, Viserys did not share the ability to meld mind to mind with his dragon that his sister possessed. That meant he could not allow Balerion to fly at any great distance or train him beyond a very limited amount. He allowed the quickly growing black dragon to fly occasionally tethered by a heavy rope to build up muscles but that was all he could allow, else the dragon slip his control before they were truly imprinted on one another. More, Balerion had yet to breathe fire.

"I think I'll let him fly around a bit on his tether when we start docking, that will allow the largest number of people to see him and start spreading the word. Shock and awe are potent weapons after all." Viserys smirked, before going on more seriously." What should we expect from the officials here?" He had asked that question before, but it always helped to go over such things.

Behind their flagship the other ships that he, Arianne and Illyrio had commissioned were spread out across the ocean, all of them carrying the mercenaries they had put under with Ser Jorah acting as commander. They were without the Company of the Cat as yet since their factor had badly underestimated the time it would take them to get to Pentos from where they had been in the Disputed Lands. Instead, Viserys had to send half his ships to pick them up in Myr. The trip from there however would be far quicker than the trip from Pentos, so the Company was only about two weeks behind them.

"As their princess I'll be able to override any officious buffoon who tries to stop our troops disembarkation." Arianne said smiling thinly. "Planky Town answers directly to my family, and I have no doubt that all of the officials here will be sending word to my father the moment they realize I have returned."

Behind them Illyrio sat on his own bed of cushion, looking like a very oddly whiskered walrus as he waved his hand through the air trying to cool himself down. Pentos shared latitude with King's Landing and thus like that city was warm year-round. But here at the southernmost edge of Dorne it was hot, something Illyrio was not used to and which was melting the fat off him slowly. That had begun weeks ago however, so he was somewhat used to his body's complaints. "Will we wait here for Bloodbeard and his fellows?" Bloodbeard was the leader of the Company of the Cat.

"No." Viserys said chopping one hand through the air. "I want to confer with Prince Doran before I decide on a course of action, get the latest news and be prepared to give Bloodbeard his orders immediately as they disembark." He laughed harshly. "Even in comparison to the mercenaries with us at present the company of the Cat is not comprised of men you would wish to have linger in your town at any time, let alone after a sea voyage."

Arianne grimaced internally at the amusement in Viserys' voice at that but nodded. Such men were useful, but Viserys was right, she didn't want them on her family's land for any longer time than was necessary. I wonder what my father will think, she thought. Especially considering that this was in fact the match that he wished for me, he shouldn't have very many complaints on that score. But finally being forced to choose a side, and to act openly? That might give him a heart attack. For some reason Arianne could not find any sympathy in her for that response.

OOOOOOO

Prince Doran looked at his chief factor from Planky Town and for once his face showed his emotions, which were a jumble of pure shock, dismay, and worry. "Could you say that again? I could've sworn you said that my daughter returned with a man under the Targaryen banner and a fleet at their back."

The other man, an elderly gentleman of age with Doran, licked dry lips but nodded. "That is indeed what I said my Lord, we spotted the Targaryen flag several hours out, and I went to the tallest watchtower with a spyglass to see everything I could before reporting to you. There were about twelve ships give or take. All of those I saw looked like transports, trade cogs not warships, and from what I could tell filled with rather disreputable looking mercenaries. A few of the ships were manned by troops who looked more disciplined, but those were the minority."

"Never mind that, man!" Doran barked sharply, bringing one aged hand down on his armrest. "Tell me more about what you saw on the flagship! Are you certain you saw the banner of House Targaryen?"

"Yes my Lord, it's quite distinct, a three-headed red dragon on a black background. And I recognized the Princess sitting under an awning next to a man who had silver hair." The factor licked his lips again and went on. "I waited until they were near to docking before coming here to see you my Lord, and as I waited, I saw something astonishing. The, the man, he, he brings a dragon! He let it fly around the ship on an extremely long rope before coaxing it back in with food. Everyone on the wharf saw it!"

News of Daenerys return and her two dragons had not yet reached Dorne, so this sighting came as a distinct surprise. In response Doran fell back into his chair almost in a faint, one hand clutching at his chest. His thoughts however were almost but not quite removed from the panic his body was going through. This is the best outcome I could've hoped for from Arianne's little jaunt, it matches my own long-term plans, and yet…

And yet now that it came to it, Doran was extremely reluctant to actually act, regardless of Viserys bringing a dragon with him. All of Westeros seemed to be falling into war, with only his own realm and that of the Vale untouched by it as yet. This however would plunge his people into that war, and Doran suddenly found himself having great difficulty reconciling that.

That was why Doran could not hide his dismay from his daughter's eyes when she and Viserys marched into the great Hall of Sunspear two days later. This was the same hall where Doran had greeted his brother's return with the Mountain's head, and the same where he had ordered his brother's arrest. Doran had avoided the place since, but for this he had to be formal.

Doran locked eyes with the Targaryen prince and shuddered a little seeing what was burning there. A need for blood and vengeance that he had seen in his younger brother's eyes more than once. This is a man who burns for vengeance as bitterly as any of my family, but will it be the rest of Westeros or my family who pays the higher price to achieve it?

Yes, Doran was very reluctant to finally start to act, and it was only his decades of experience that allowed him to keep his dismay from his face when his daughter curtsied floridly to his throne and declaimed loudly. "Father, may I present Viserys Targaryen, heir of House Targaryen, rightful King of Westeros, future rider of the dragon Balerion, and my husband." The way she said that last word showed that Arianne had discovered that her marriage had been a long term scheme of his, and that she wasn't happy he had kept that from her.

For a few moments Doran did not say or do anything, simply staring at his daughter and Viserys, his eyes and face not showing anything of his thoughts as usual. In reality, he was trying to get control of himself before he spoke. When he did speak the quavering his voice was easily mistaken for happiness. "You are welcome home daughter and you as well… Your Majesty. Your loyal subjects have missed you." So my side is chosen for me, and nothing I can do will ever allow me to regain my neutral position. So be it, this is what I worked for, and it seems I must see it through.

OOOOOOO

How many days had it been since his own brother had imprisoned him here? Oberyn didn't know, and didn't care. The room was comfortable enough, and Doran's servants certainly fed him well enough, despite the fact that he had slain four of them when the guards had come to forcefully arrest him. That didn't matter either, all that mattered was that he was a prisoner, that he was being kept here rather than being allowed to seek out justice for his dead daughter.

Justice, vengeance or what have you, Oberyn thought his mind somewhat more lucid than it normally was these days, as he had tried to drink himself into a stupor practically every day since being imprisoned there. I care not which or what other people label it as. I will see that Lannister bitch dead and Robert too.

That thought jarred him a little as his memory replayed something a servant had passed on from his brother's spies, something about Robert already being dead? But even so his brat was still around, his family was still around, and the bitch queen was still alive. All of them would feel the sting of the Viper's fangs eventually.

Eventually my brother's guards will relax and I will slip my cage once more. Just one little crack, just one guard a few minutes late to his post or nodding off of a night, that's all I need. Oberyn was overlooking the fact that given his current semi-inebriated state he probably couldn't have made it out of the castle without a great deal of luck, nor would he have cared if someone else pointed out. Not after hearing how his daughter Tyene had been sentenced to death, and his on-again off-again lover Daemon slain in her defense. Will the Lannisters never stop heaping insults upon my family? All of them, every stinking golden haired lion or whore-son Baratheon will die by my hands!

Oberyn looked up abruptly as sounds approached in the corridor outside his gilded cage. It wasn't yet dinnertime, so either the servant coming to serve him food was coming very early or something interesting was happening. He languidly stood up, moving with that precise sort of movement of the very inebriated, his hands flexing with violent intent.

He stopped however as the captain of the guard moved through the door, his heavy axe in one hand as always. Areo Hotah was a powerfully built man who hailed from the Essos city of Norvos, and had been trained by the bearded priests in his war craft. The axe he held, which had a shaft six feet long, was his wife as well as his weapon, signifying his loyalty to the one he was sworn to. In Areo's case that was Doran, whose service he had entered when Doran's wife, who also hailed from Norvos, came to Dorne.

"Prince Oberyn," Areo said, gesturing to two servants behind him. "These two will help you get changed dressed and shaved, you are wanted to take part in a war council."

"A war council?" Oberyn said, his voice slurring very slightly. "For what reason, so that my brother might figure out a better way to rattle his sabers on this edge of the passes, so that he can puff our numbers up further rather than actually use them? Why would Doran need me for that?"

"There have been events occurring Prince Oberyn beyond Dorne's borders, some of which require your brother to renege his refusal to allow you your freedom." Areo replied, his bearded face showing none of his thoughts about either Oberyn's imprisonment, or the events he was speaking of.

Oberyn's eyes widened, and then widened further as the man moved to one side allowing his oldest daughter Obara to enter. Her eyes were slightly red rimmed, not from crying, none of his daughters would waste water on that, but from rage at the news she had heard mere hours ago. She had never really liked Tyene all that much, but they had been sisters, and that was that. "I'm sorry father!" she said shaking her head moving forward to help the servants getting ready for the war council. "If I had stayed behind…!"

"I might well be mourning both you and Tyene now, and the Princess would now be in Lannister hands, a tool they would use to keep us from acting. I presume your return means that you and she have something to do with my newfound freedom?" Oberyn said, each word coming out with less and less alcohol-induced slur. He now straightened up, showing nothing of his inebriation. It was still there, but he had long developed the ability to function even while rip-roaring drunk, a must-have ability for mercenaries Oberyn had learned while in Essos.

As his daughter made to protest he slashed his hand through the air. "Enough, we will talk later tonight. We will mourn together for Tyene, but for now, justice and vengeance means we must keep a level head and put aside grief."

OOOOOOO

The princes of Dorne met with Viserys, the captain of the guard and several others, including Obara and Nymeria Sand, another daughter of Oberyn's, to discuss what should be done. At twenty-five years old with a slender build, dark green eyes, full lips and a beautiful face framed by straight black hair worn in a long braid, Nymeria had all the beauty her older sister Obara lacked. Despite her elegance and poise however, she was just as much a warrior as Obara, and always had daggers hidden about her person.

Arianne was there as well, though she had taken the intervening time to grieve for her friend Tyene who had been Arianne's favorite among the Sand Snakes. Her eyes were still red rimmed from crying, and she did not look nearly as composed or lushly sensual as normal as she sat next to her husband. Yet despite being so tear stained her eyes were sharp and hard. Arianne would go back to crying after the meeting, go back to blaming herself for not having brought Tyene along with her on the ship with Ranma, for wanting her to remain to watch the court, for getting Tyene killed more than anyone else could ever truly say. For now, they had plans to make, plans to bring their house to prominence in Westeros again, plans for justice and the ruin of their enemies.

Viserys took command of the meeting immediately as was his right as King, and there was a hard light in his eyes that matched those of his wife and Oberyn as he tapped the map laid out on the counsel table. He first went into their own preparations: the number of mercenaries he had gathered, how long it would take Balerion to be large enough to ride and thereby become an offensive force and the number of ships he had under his command. This included two war galleys, each of them armed with four scorpions on top of the seventeen transport ships, five of which weren't here yet since they were carrying the Company of the Cat from Myr.

Then he went on more reluctantly to mention the fact that his sister had absconded with two dragon eggs, and that she may be allied with the Starks. "But of course, she lacks the true fire of our family, she'll mollycoddle them, that'll make them useless for war, pampered pets if that. I don't doubt that they'll be fond of her, but Daenerys would sooner cut her own throat than use them in war, she's too soft to give the dragon the harsh training they require to be of any use. They'll be a symbol nothing more."

"I would urge reconciliation with her." Doran said promptly. "Regardless of how she treats them she has two dragons, one more than could be used. We could possibly find a dragonseed after the war is over to help train the third. Together the two of you could also prove a much more potent symbol then alone. Plus, if we make peace with her, she may bring in the Starks on our side."

"No!" Viserys barked, shaking his head, before going on in a more controlled voice. "She will never side with me. Daenerys has always been jealous that I was born older than her, but never so brave as to truly do what needs to be done. In the future we might be able to talk her into surrendering…" he went on reluctantly. "But before that she will do us damage by showing that our house is not united in our desire to take the Iron Throne."

"Could we send out assassins?" Arianne asked her father. "Either for Daenerys or against her dragons? As magnificent as they are, I would sooner have them dead than used against us."

Her husband looked as if he was about to explode at that last idea, but subsided slowly allowing Doran to answer. "No. For one thing, any assassin we send from here from our own… local resources would have to travel overland through all of Westeros into the war zone that is the Riverlands and then beyond to the North. That's a difficult trek even in peacetime. As it is now, there is no chance of it occurring. And paying for a true trained assassin, even a Sorrowful man rather than a Faceless, would cost as much as one of your smaller mercenary companies. Besides, dragons are almost impossible to kill by poison."

Despite that Doran wondered if it was possible, and thought about how the dragons had died out before. If I had a way to contact Sarella in Oldtown, I might have her look into that for me based on certain… rumors, but as it is…

"True." Viserys said thoughtfully. "For now, on to other matters. Thanks to the Usurper's death, all of Westeros is now ripping itself apart and I would like to hear what has gone on of late. We've been at sea for over a month now, what has happened since? What are the sides that have formed since the pretenders death?"

Doran spoke, his voice softer now. "Much has occurred. Rumors have come out of King's Landing about what truly happened to cause the break between House Stark and House Lannister." He briefly outlined those rumors, and then looked at his daughter. "You are the only one here who has actually been around the Baratheon boy in even somewhat close circumstances, what are your thoughts?"

Frowning thoughtfully Arianne took a moment to think before speaking. "I would say that there is not an ounce of Baratheon blood in him, that part at least is correct. But I saw no evidence of anything going on between the Kingslayer and Cersei, and I note that even Stannis isn't actually advertising the proof of that. I would say stay well away from that aspect in our own propaganda, a lie in such a thing could come back to bite us."

To her side Obara and Oberyn both nodded agreement. Oberyn expounded further. "I never saw any evidence to suggest he was the Kingslayer's son when I was there for the Tourney, though that doesn't mean much. He and his sister do look so alike there would be nothing physical to show that, but from what little I could see but the brat didn't have any aptitude towards weapons-craft or to anything else Jaime is known to be fond of."

Doran nodded and went on describing what else had been occurring of late, finishing with how the Lannisters had been stalled in their northern march, which made all of his listeners smile and frown in turn. They smiled because they liked hearing about the Lannisters facing a setback, and frowned because if Tywin Lannister had finished his march up north, he would've been too far out of position to do anything about their own movements quickly.

He did not know that the northern army was already in the field in the Riverlands, and had no idea that the Freys had already fallen. Nor did he have any idea about the former Mountain's Men and others being sent into the western marches of the Reach. Nor did Doran, not having any sort of real naval power, know that the Ironborn were on the move.

"The fact that Renly is making his own play for the throne isn't surprising." Viserys said thoughtfully, exchanging glances with Jorah and Illyrio who had helped the traitor Domeric give Viserys a decent grasp of both Baratheon brothers. "He's always looked down on Stannis and the Usurper's favoring him didn't help. But how effective will he be in the field? And while the Reach will let him field a huge army, how loyal are they really? Their House and your own, Prince Doran, were the two Lord Paramounts that were loyal to my family to the end. Despite the fact that they were led by that incompetent, Mace Tyrell, imagine becoming so embroiled in besieging Storm's End that you forget that the real prize so King's Landing and the Iron Throne!" He shook his head, half in amusement and half in anger at that bungle. The man would pay for that down the line, but at present that connection might prove useful.

"The Houses of the Reach may march in lockstep for now." Oberyn said musingly. "However, there are many lords that would be unhappy with Mace personally if they receive a setback or two. If they do, then Renly and his power grab may collapse internally if they are shown that they have other options. The Florents for certain would be looking for any excuse to changes sides if they lose men in the field. And House Hightower as well, they've never been very happy with Baratheon rule."

Viserys nodded sharply. "If you have enough ravens here my Lord, I will pen messages to every noble house you can think of that might show more loyalty to us than to Renly the Pretender. It could not hurt after all to show that there are better options around now."

"But…" he went on his eyes hardening and lighting with eagerness. "In the end Renly's claim or his brother's do not matter! We will conquer the whole of Westeros by fire and blood if need be to claim my rightful place and gain your family's revenge!" Doran was the only Martel at that table who did not shout aloud in vehement agreement, and more than one advisor also nodded as well, though tellingly this did not include Areo Hotah.

After a moment Oberyn looked down at the map on the table. "So now we should talk about specific plans."

"I'm thinking of a large feint: a threat that the other side will have to honor, but which will draw even more of their attention elsewhere while we strike someplace else entirely." Viserys said looking at over at Oberyn. He outlined what he wanted to do, and Oberyn winced a little at the idea of trying to time movements like that over such large distances. Still, each segment by itself was workable.

Eventually they came to an agreement. Oberyn would lead the mercenaries up the Greenblood then the Scourge before marching through the desert to Yronwood. There he would join the eight thousand men already gathered there doing the saber rattling he had been so dismissive of earlier that day. Oberyn would then march through the Boneway to fall on the Stormlands. They were not to be bogged down anywhere in sieges however, they were the diversion. The real blow would land elsewhere, commanded by Viserys and Jorah, with the men of the nearby Dornish houses and those who could send their men to Planky Town that hadn't already been committed, a force numbering around twelve to fourteen thousand.

Not really having much to contribute to talk about the war effort Arianne leaned back, letting the talk wash over her. Though she would later help pen Viserys' notes to the Reach Lords, right now Arianne was wondering two things in particular. One, where Ranma and Daenerys were, and two, who really had poisoned young Tommen kicking off the shit storm in King's Landing that began the war between lion, stag and wolf.

OOOOOOO

At around the same time that the eldest Targaryen sibling was arriving in Planky Town, Stannis was arriving with his fleet in Duskendale. Nearly every ship of the fleet was behind him, waiting their turn to come in and to disgorge the soldiers on them. The first ten did so quickly, before pulling away to let the next ten take their place. The disembarkation would take nearly four full days, given the size of the docks and the number of ships. The city also couldn't house all of the troops, not without causing a lot of dislocation.

The first thousand plus infantry moved with Lord Errol in command took command of the wharf quickly, making certain the rest of the disembarkation went smoothly. Not that the locals seemed in any hurry to try. Indeed the smallfolk were all dashing inside to get away from what they thought might be invaders. Barring issues, Sebastian Errol would turn that duty over to the next group ashore which was led by a knight from Dragonstone, before heading out of the city with his men to set up a base camp for the army.

As this was going on, Stannis and a party of three hundred moved through the town towards House Rykker's Dun Fort. It was the sight of the Defiance of Duskendale, which many saw as the point where Aerys began to sink into madness. Why the fort was left standing after that is beyond me but if Rykker thinks to do aught but immediately bend the knee, I will rectify that mistake quickly.

Despite that thought Stannis knew Rykker wouldn't do anything so foolish. He was a cautious man, who would follow whoever seemed strong at the time. Since it was his army disembarking into Duskendale right now, that was Stannis. Of course that means he'll back someone else if they come close enough to threaten the city, but so long as he doesn't support them in the field I'll let that slide for now. Leaving thought of Renfred Rykker for now, Stannis turned his thoughts to what had been happening in the past month or so.

While he had been traveling from the Stormlands up to Dragonstone, battling the weather most of the way, Davos Seaworth had performed in an exemplary fashion. First Seaworth brought both houses he had been sent to parlay with, Bar Emmon and Massey, to Stannis's side. This added a little under three and a half thousand men into his army from Massey, which had not been weakened much in Robert's Rebellion, and another thousand, two hundred from Bar Emmon, which like much of the rest of the Crownlands, had been badly hammered in Robert's Rebellion. Davos then acted on his own to negotiate with Salladhor Saan, a Lysene based pirate lord.

At that point Stannis had arrived at Dragonstone. After praising him for the work he had already done, under Stannis set Davos the task of leading a small group of galleys down to burn out House Tarth's port on Estermont. He had rejoined Stannis' main force barely a half day away from Duskendale, that mission accomplished. House Tarth no longer had any ships or the ability to make them, and was thus out of the war without even factoring the losses they had taken or their heir's death.

With Saan's ships taking over the blockade around King's Landing, which had added even more of the navy's men to Stannis' army. That gave him a force of around eighteen thousand, though the former naval troops would need constant training to become used to fighting on land. They were all trained in combat, but in maneuvers and working in larger groups, those they needed work on, and his cavalry arm was sorely lacking in numbers. The men he had taken with him into the Stormlands however would make a good training cadre. I have an army now, but what has gone on since I left the Stormlands? That is the question.

He glanced at Melisandre, his eyes showing a hint of anger. Melisandre's ability to see what was occurring elsewhere had not been reliable of late. Rather than the actual events, her visions of late consisted of imagery she had to interpret. He knew that the Lannisters had marched into the Riverlands, that they had been turned aside and that the wolves were in the Riverlands already something that he probably wouldn't be able to confirm here, but if true would astonish him. Details eluded them.

You couldn't get much detail out of Melisandre declaring 'the lion has been stopped at a river after eating it's full of the fish'. What river, where, what crossing, even what enemies? Or 'a peacock has tricked a young foolish stag and is strutting now to the city.' The young stag was obviously Renly, he was certainly foolish enough, but the rest? The only thing that kept Stannis from blowing up at the woman after having become so used to relying on her visions was the fact that this was very obviously frustrating her as well.

Melisandre was indeed becoming more and more worried about her inability to correctly discern the images R'hllor was sending to her, which had begun almost from the moment they took to sea again in the Stormlands. Had she done something for her God to turn his favor from her? Or was it simply the fact that she had been on the ocean, where the power of R'hllor was weak? But it hadn't bothered her abilities before… On the other hand, could it be a sign of something more sinister, the growing power of the Great Other? That last worried Melisandre the most, since she knew that Stannis would be very hard to turn aside from what he saw as the primary concern: gaining his throne. But he was the Azor Ahai, if he did not stand against the Great Other in the Far North, nothing would.

OOOOOOO

Renfred Rykker was an unctuous man, who knew perfectly well he didn't stand a chance against Stannis' army, Duskendale having no navy of its own nor a city watch large enough to matter. Stannis didn't even get an opportunity to try to overawe him, instead Renfred came to him. Bowing so low he almost fell out of his horse's saddle there in the streets of the city he said meekly. "My Lord, my city and my house are yours, of course. May I offer you what scant hospitality Dun Fort can?"

Despite his best effort Lord Rykker couldn't stop his eyes from skittering across to where the red witch rode next to Stannis, her red hair cascading down her back like a wave of fire. He wondered if this was the rumored Red Witch and if so, what her powers really consisted of.

"You may." Stannis said, bringing the attention of the man back to him. "And while you are doing so, tell me what has been happening of late. I've been out of touch at sea for too long."

Later that evening Stannis and his main advisors gathered. He had the local Lord fill them all in on the local news, the news from the Riverlands. He also relayed that Renly was on the march with the Reach army along with the rumor that there had possibly been a clash of some kind on the Gold Road. Most worrying however was the news that the second army out of Westerlands had reached Lord Lannister.

Lord Ralph Buckler summed up their position succinctly. "While coming to Duskendale to offload our army seemed a good idea my Lord, allowing us to come at King's Landing from a surprise direction, we seem to now be caught between two enemies. Not close ones to be sure, but powerful enough to make me nervous. Is there any way your brother and the Lord Lannister would be willing to work together against us?"

"A chance for certain, but nothing more." Stannis said waving that away. "Beyond the distances involved, there are other reasons why that would never happen. My brother wants the throne after all, and Lord Lannister will be just as firm in his desire to keep his own blood on it." I wonder what the old lion would do if he learned the true parentage of Joffrey or the other two?

He put that aside for now as Seaworth spoke. "Regardless, putting our men on land again was a good move. One of the cutters assigned to watch King's Landing met up with the fleet a few hours ago." He looked over at his Lord. "The captain's still down at the port if ya wish to question him in person your grace, but I already talked ta him before coming up here. The Lannisters've put together at least three trebuchets that'd cover the approach to the port. The captain talked about other works going on that tell me the city is prepared for an attack from the sea."

"That's good to know." said Lord Bolling, frowning thoughtfully. "But it doesn't change our situation here. I would vote to move fast and strike hard at one or the other enemy my lord, before their own spies can inform them we've landed here. I doubt we'd be able to surprise them given the distances involved, but we can't stay here."

Stannis shook his head. "That thought never occurred to me in the first place. We might be caught between enemies, but the distances involved allow us quite a lot of new room for maneuver, and one enemy in particular is untried and much more fragile than the other."

He smiled thinly, remembering the discussion with his wife when they stayed on Dragonstone. He didn't like Selyse much, and didn't really understand his daughter very well either, but Selyse had thought up an interesting scheme to deal with the Tyrells, one that could bear quite a bit of fruit down the line if he removed Renly in some fashion.

"We will march further south to assault the army from the Reach after they move to put King's Landing under siege. If we can march fast enough, we might be able to get there before their second echelon arrives, in which case we will be laboring under only a two or three to one disadvantage in numbers, while holding an advantage in experience and leadership that they cannot match." So long as my brother is in command rather than Randyll Tarly at least. Even there I wonder about his ability to role with the punches.

"The Lannisters might come after us, but you're right my Lord, the distances involved mean we'll see them coming long before they can reach us. Duskendale isn't defensible either alas." Lord Buckler said thoughtfully, hoping no one called him on his moment of panic. He really wasn't the best at reading distances on a map. Moreover he naturally thought in terms of forting up, a natural mode of thought for him given Bronzegate's defensive position and Duskendale's lack in that area had thrown him. Here however, a war of maneuver was a much better idea.

"I hope they do, that would remove Tywin from his supply lines in the Riverlands and from behind the earthworks he's apparently been throwing up. Now Rykker, what can you tell me about the Crownlands themselves, have any of the other Houses sworn for the bastard king? How many are taking a wait-and-see attitude?"

"A few Houses declared for the King almost immediately my Lord." Said Renfred bowing his head obsequiously again. "Rosby and Stokeworth were the first. House Brych followed quickly, as did Edgerton, Harte sent a thousand man I've been told, nearly their full strength! Manning, Thorne, and Staunton all lost their lords and in Manning and Staunton's case, their heirs as well in what the smallfolk are calling the Battle of Two Truths fighting against House Stark. According to rumor they were gutted along with the City Watch and the forces the Lannisters had on hand. With the Kingslayer in command the forces in the capital have since rebuilt and been reinforced, but those families might never recover and are certainly no longer a consideration."

Stannis grimaced. If he had known that he might have chanced a lightning raid with his fleet, as ill-prepared as it had been for a battle on land. Damnit, still for the Starks to do that much damage, they are a serious threat. Curse Melisandre and her urges, if I hadn't ordered their ship attacked Eddard would have declared for me! As it is, I'll no doubt be facing the Mountain-Breaker across the field.

Rykker didn't notice this and went on. "Manning, Langward, Wendwater, Rollingford, Cressey and Chelsted have all declared their neutrality. Chelsted is the only house there that has enough force to matter, but given what happened to their old lord, they won't want to get involved in a civil war."

Lord Chelsted had been a Hand of the king under Aerys, who tried to protest his plans to use wildfire to burn the city, and been burned in turn for it when he tried to resign, wanting no part in the plan. The house's troops had retreated rather than take part in any further battles after that, and the House had stood aloof from everything since. They were still a powerful house, but one that refused to take side, and no other lord could gainsay that, including Stannis.

"I respect Chelsted's position, their neutrality is enough for me." Stannis nodded. Actually Stannis didn't but he was worried about bringing a house with bad memories of fire into his army with Melisandre around. "As for the others, the Crownlands suffered during my brother's war and have not fully recovered their manpower. And House Chyttering, which you haven't mentioned, may side with me or Renly. For certain they will believe Joffrey a bastard, which may give us a thousand more men or so by the time the battle between us and Renly's force begins."

Davos looked worried. "My Lord, do you truly mean to fight your brother?"

"Renly has always been an arrogant, foolish boy." Stannis said coldly. "He's always wanted more than his own prowess and strength could ever win him, and Robert favoring him did not help matters. Now he is out there, trying to claim the throne that is rightfully mine, turning half the Stormlands against me, the Reach against me, and doing none of that before first even confronting me personally, the coward! Familial loyalty say that he should follow me, and yet he would ignore that as well as any of the laws of the land and succession to try and grasp a crown he has never shown the ability to control."

Stannis stood up abruptly, moving back and forth, every line of his body screaming anger before he turned abruptly to Davos, once more in control of his temper. "You ask if I will strike at my brother, my brother struck at me first by raising his own banner like this! Renly is in the wrong and that is an end of it Davos. If he surrenders, if Renly bows to me when we are face-to-face, I will welcome him back. But he will only get that one chance from me."

The Onion Knight looked into Stannis eyes for moment then nodded his head formally in submission.

Stannis knew his man needed a break after not one but two voyages with naught to do even on Dragonstone for the majority, therefore he needed to take time to let them rest, much as he loathed the delay. As such, Stannis moved his army out of the city to the camp Lord Errol had set up and then for the next four days rotated his men through the city, allowing them to take time with the fleshpots therein. At the same time the rest of the army was training and rearming. The smiths of the city worked around the clock to provide his army with chainmail and heavier shields, but in only four days couldn't make much headway in re-armoring his former navy armsmen, who primarily wore leather armor. After four days however, his army was once more on the march out of Duskendale towards King's Landing.

OOOOOOO

Twenty-five longships laid at anchor inside Blazewater Bay, far enough away from land to not be seen but deep enough in the bay to allow the ships to use it to protect themselves from the worst of the sea's weather. This far north that weather was capricious at best but you could not have told that from the young woman who stood with casual confidence on the topmost mast of one of the larger longships. Its name, etched out on the side, was Black Wind.

The young woman is lean, with little in the way of curves, her muscles tending towards being wiry rather than strong, built for speed. Her black hair is cut short, barely reaching her ears, and her skin, what of it can be seen under the heavy coats she wears, is wind-burned and her hands look strong, her fingers dexterous. Her hands are also calloused heavily, both from working on the ship and from wielding a sword. This young woman was Asha Greyjoy, daughter of Balon Greyjoy, self-declared king of the Iron Islands, and this was her ship.

Normally a woman in the Ironborn culture would never be allowed to even be a sailor let alone captain her own ship. Oh, the Ironborn gave lip service to the fact heir women could be warriors, but that was all it was, mere lip service with no truth behind it, indeed women in the Iron Islands were treated worse than anywhere on the mainland. But with the heir to the Seastone chair a captive of the Starks in the North that had allowed Asha some leeway. Leeway enough to prove herself, and she had. Asha had become captain of her own ship through blood, sweat and energy, crewing it with men she personally chose. Men who she could trust not to try to stab her in the back or bed her willingly or no, unlike most of the captains assigned to her but in this mission.

Seeing the longboats moving through the waves towards her ship, Asha scowled slightly then nodded at the watcher. "Keep a sharp eye out, if you see anything unusual, anything at all either from those ships or beyond, shout out a signal."

The man nodded, not commenting. Every man aboard her ship knew that their captain's position in their society wasn't the best, but she had proven herself to them time and time again on raids against merchant vessels, mostly Essossi because their disappearance was much easier to explain away. She was good at picking their targets to get the most plunder and also keeping most of them alive while doing it. That made Asha a rare enough captain to gain her crew's loyalty regardless of her gender.

Without another word Asha clambered down to the deck easily. She arrived in time to welcome the first captains aboard, not even gritting her teeth at the way most looked at her like she was some kind of prize or an anachronism she was so used to it.

Women born into the Ironborn society from a mother of the same culture would become rock wives at best, salt wives at worse if taken in one of the internecine raids that occurred periodically between Houses. Even as a Greyjoy, Asha had to be constantly on watch for men who wanted to take advantage of her position. Women in the islands were at best second citizens, at worst thralls. Salt wives, wives taken in raids and kept as slaves in one manner or another were property, plain and simple. Even rock wives couldn't own anything, and were completely dependent on their husbands. If she ever married Asha would never able to sail again, a fate worse than death, and become simply the wife of a near claimant to the throne of the Iron Islands.

Worse, Asha had to be very careful of even taking lovers from among the Ironborn for fear of whoever she slept with trying to use it against her even if he didn't try to marry her. She had taken a few captives to bed, but their performance hadn't been as good as she could wish going by some of the stories the servant girls back in Pyke told. Among the Ironborn she had met, only the young man she had chosen as her first mate had proven trustworthy enough to let into her bed, and his performance there wasn't nearly as good as in battle. Frankly, Asha didn't really understand what people saw in the whole sex thing, it just didn't seem as interesting or as exciting as a good battle or sailing a ship through a heavy storm.

None of Asha's anger at her tenuous position showed on her face as she welcomed each of the fifteen other captains on this expedition aboard. This took some time, but eventually Asha sat at one end of the table in her ship's mess hall, with the captains arrayed down its sides in front of her. They were all drinking their fill from her ship's stock of strong mead and ale while Asha drank watered down wine. She took a moment to study them all as her first mate and lover, Qarl the Maid, laid out an extremely sketchy map of the Northlands on the table where they could all view it though it took a moment for the other captains to stop drinking long enough to notice.

Only two other captains were near her age. Ralf Kenning, the captain of the Storm's Pride, a newly christened longship, was one. She knew him decently well, and had been surprised when he accepted his new ship's captaincy over that of keeping command of his Iron Fleet longship. Apparently he wanted to be part of the raid on the north enough to give up command of an Iron Fleet ship, though he had also been placed in command of the other two ships from House Kenning assigned to this assault. Ralf was a stern, strict young man, with an excellent battle record but Asha felt not blessed with much intelligence. He had followed her uncle Victarion as Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet, so would be willing to listen to her, but might well go his own way regardless.

The second captain her age she didn't know half as well. Triston Farwynd was captain of the Seal Eyes and lord of House Farwynd, a small and not really well-thought House from Sealskin Point on Great Wyk, the largest island of the Iron Islands. Every branch of that family was queer, but it was Triston's looks that threw Asha. He had wide, staring eyes over a blue streaked beard, an intricate tattoo of a seal's snout covering half his face and he seemed to look straight through someone when talking to them. It was very unnerving after a time. He was the senior captain of the two ships Farwynd was able to crew, both of which had been sent to the North.

The others were older men of her father's generation, men like Balon who pined for the old days that they remembered so fondly. Days that will never be again if they ever were in the first place, when Ironborn were 'rulers of the sea' attacking wherever we wished whenever we wished. Fools, deadly, dangerous fools. Of course she kept those thoughts to herself, just like the rest of her thoughts. Asha was good at that.

The only two among them who would really listen to her were Dustan Drumm and Harren Botley, if for very different reasons. Dustan was a thoughtful, cautious sort, but also prideful, very aware of his dignity as lord of House Drumm. Botley would listen because his younger brother was enamored of Asha. He had been a decent looking youth, but Asha hadn't seen him for years, and had no wish to be tied to him. Still, Harren would at least listen to her.

After contemplating them all for another few moments, she stood up and shouted for attention. "Alright you jetsam now that you've all been properly watered," she waited for the jeers to subside before going on. "We need to start planning the northern portion of the Rise of the Kraken!"

Most of the men grinned eagerly both at the name Balon had given the opening moves of his second rebellion, and in simple eagerness to be raiding openly once more. Personally Asha thought that an idiotic name given to a plan that might be doomed from the start. She thought it senseless to spread their numbers so thinly but everyone else thought it a grand plan.

Kraken consisted of two stages. The first consisted of several dozen ships sent out on raids here and there, like a kraken's secondary feelers, attacking targets of opportunity along Ironman's Bay and the Cape of Eagles. These ships would be kept away from the main targets of the larger tentacles, lulling the other realms into a false sense of security if they ever even heard of it. Surprise was supposedly the nature of the game for Rise of the Kraken. Those four main targets were Lannisport, the Shield Islands and the Arbor of the Reach, and either Moat Cailin or Deepwood Motte of the North.

The Shield Islands would be attacked by her uncle Victarion. He was an excellent admiral, a decent tactician, able to instill discipline and the need to work together in his followers. But he in turn was the ultimate follower. He would never be a strategist, and would never go against the king whatever he was doing, but his plan for the Shield Islands would possibly work. The islands were to be taken and held becoming new fiefdoms for the Ironborn, as well as staging grounds for further raids.

Alyn Orkwood however was a different story, and his attack on Lannisport worried Asha a lot. It was too much like the one that had worked in the last war and while Asha didn't like the Lannisters, she knew that they wouldn't be caught in the same way twice. Every ship from Orkmont and nearly all of those from Blacktyde however had been committed to that.

Over the strenuous objections of Lord Baelor Blacktyde, but he hadn't made as much noise as Asha had suspected. House Blacktyde had been hammered hard in the rebellion, and could only field ten ships total, with mostly younger, less experienced crews, where before her father's first attempt at rebellion they had twenty-five ships. Still, whatever Balon had told Baelor, a youngish man who Asha had only met twice before, had shut him up.

The Arbor attack, which was the most distant and would take the most time to set up, would be led personally by Balon. She was actually glad to see the old man taking to sea once more but she was worried, very worried about the overall plan. Stretching themselves so thin was dangerous in the extreme, leaving them open for defeat in detail. Still, the Redwynes were too arrogant and not nearly aggressive enough, they might be just as ready for a fall as the Shield Islands. The timing would be tricky, with Balon having to arrive before word of the attack on the Shield Islands could reach the Arbor, but Asha hoped her father would be able to pull it off.

Asha herself had won the 'honor' to lead the attack on the North. But she hadn't been able to convince her father to let her pick and choose her own captains, which was going to cause issues here. "We'll need to feel out the defenses along the Stony Shore, the Rills and further north in the Bay of Ice before committing to an attack in any one place, but I doubt that'll take overlong, and it'll be worth it in the long run, letting us find the richest prizes."

One of the older captains, the Sparr, who was lord of House Sparr from Great Wyk, smiled widely. "I wonder if Bear Island is open for an attack. The bear bitches might not be very pretty, but I do like their fire. And it's been too long since they had to face the Ironborn on their own ground! Paying the Iron Price there would be glorious!"

Shaking her head, Asha smiled thinly. "Maybe, but Bear Island's too hard a nut to crack at the best of times, it would take too many of our ships to make any measurable gains there for little return outside of new thralls. Deepwood Motte is a better option, which is why I'll be leading that scouting mission myself."

That, and it'll let me fish for rumors about Theon. I've heard some about his friendship with Ranma Stark, and didn't that make Father howl, heh. But still, I'd like to know what my brother is up to, and if he's really become a greenlander. That would be good for me in some ways, yet oh so very bad in others.

"We should attack up the Fever now." said another old man brusquely. Tomas Sunderly was a scarred and hirsute bear of a man, who was notorious for not taking the time to plan ahead, instead relying on brute strength. House Sunderly had always been known for that, hence why their losses in Balon's last Rebellion had been so horrendous. Indeed his house had only been able to crew two longships and retain enough men at home to keep their thralls in line, a far cry from the twenty they had in the last war. "That should be our main target."

It should, but I don't like some of the rumors we've heard from merchants who deal with the crannogs." Asha grimaced.

Still, it isn't like my orders give me much leeway. 'And when you've determined that the Moat is open to attack from the Fever take it.' That was the wording, as if it was a certainty the Moat was simply open that way that further scouting wasn't needed. As if the need to scout ahead was added to this attack only because she was a worrying woman. Never mind the fact that Asha had been out leading raids the past ten yearsand had always succeeded in taking her target ship with minimal losses to her men.

"We'll hit that last," she said after moment. "It might take all of ours ship's crews to do it after all so first we'll scout out the rest of the North and hit where we can. The Moat's a strategic point, not a rich one, we need to hit other places to get any decent plunder."

"We'll lose the element of surprise then!" said another Captain. Aedric Stonehouse angrily smashed his fist down on the table, glaring at Asha. He had never made any bones about his disdain for a woman who thought herself fit to captain a longship, much like Sunderly. He was also head of five of the ships of this attack, and was speaking for those ships here as well. Asha knew whatever she said here he would ignore when it came to it, but she had to try.

So Asha kept her cool as she replied. "We haven't heard anything about the North mobilizing yet. It could be that all of their houses are still gathering their men, including Ryswell and Glover. Would any of you like to face the North up in arms on their own ground?" She asked looking around them her eyes hard. One or two of them, including Ralf she was happy to see, actually scowled at the thought, remembering how badly the northern forces had mauled their own on the islands during the invasion. But the others, Aedric and the Sparr chief among them, glared back at her angrily.

Aedric spoke up again. "If we have the element of surprise, we can overwhelm them before they gather their defenses! If we don't, then what's the point of us coming up here anyway?"

"I'm not going to rely on luck and prayer to see us through! I refuse to launch any attacks until we are certain that the attacks will work." she spat out, now losing her temper somewhat. "We do our people no good paying the Iron Price without getting anything in return! Besides, the North can't be strong everywhere. If they've strengthened their defenses along the shores and in Deepwood Motte that might mean that the moat is not as strong as rumors make it, and my father's orders are to take it to cut them off from the Riverlands."

"Rumor!" said The Sparr, scoffing and spitting to one side. "You're showing your gender girl, listening to the gossip of salt wives! I think we should attack now! Take the Moat now then send ships up further north to take Deepwood Motte when the puling northern pussies try to scramble to retake it! From there we could range further inland, plundering where we wish!"

"And lose our primary advantage, our ships mobility?" Asha asked, staring back at him coldly. "Our mobility and our ability to take to the oceans is our greatest weapon! If we leave the rivers and shores behind, that goes away, and the terrain itself becomes an advantage for our enemies. Remember the North is huge! Other than Deepwood Motte and Moat Cailin there is Barrowtown up the river, and Torrhen's Square if we can go up the rivers there. We have other targets that we can hit if we're careful about it and don't let ourselves get bogged down. But I won't let any of us go deeper inland, we'll stay near the waters."

"And show them we're cowards?!" Tomas shouted, as he and a few of the others stood up angrily. Others remained sitting, watching how this would go. "The Sparr's right, you're not showing nearly enough true Iron grit!" He stood up and made his way forward, one hand reaching for his sword. "I think one of us should take…"

That was all he got out before Asha was out of her seat her hand reaching for her own blade and swiftly pulling it out before the other man could do the same. There was a "Shlick!" sound of her blade meeting his throat, and Tomas fell back gasping as blood spurted from his neck.

Asha remained standing, deliberately twisting her wrist to splatter the blood on her sword out across a few of the other captains who had stood up, her eyes challenging. "Anyone else?" There was silence and she nodded, reaching forward to grab up her ale mug again, taking a deep draught.

That would cause trouble down the road she knew, but at the moment Sunderly was too weak to make waves alone, and she needed to make certain her position was secure. It wasn't of course, but her control over the fleet would last for a bit longer now, perhaps long enough to really get them some information.

Putting down her mug, Asha went on. "Then we will follow my plan for now, understood?"

OOOOOOO

Normally when he woke up Ranma came awake relatively quickly. This time however his brain wasn't quite responding as well as normal, nor was his body responding. He opened his eyes sluggishly as he began to remember. He had used far too much ki destroying the Twins on top of what he had used in taking the castle in the first place. He had been soldiering on while dealing with the prisoners and Old Walder, but it all caught up to him quickly and he practically collapsed a bear hour later.

Not even lifting his head, Ranma looked blearily around, noticing he was in a tent. Finally Ranma's hearing came back online enough for him to notice he could hear humming somewhere just out of sight. He groggily rolled his head on the camp pillow, grunting a little with the effort. This seemed to attract the attention of whoever was humming since the humming stopped and he quickly felt a cool hand on his brow. Seconds later Daenerys leaned over him, her face concerned. "You're lucky Jon was able to tell me what was wrong with you Ranma, or I would be much angrier with you at this moment than I am. You could've figured out other ways of destroying the Twins you know."

"Water." Ranma croaked not answering Daenerys's accusation at the moment.

He watched as Myrcella got up from where she must've been sitting close by Daenerys, moving over to a small bronze pitcher set on the small folding table, a gift from Lord Karstark several years back. "This ki ability that you are able to teach us about is interesting. But I'm not quite sure I like the cost." Myrcella said, looking at her, her green eyes as concerned as Daenerys' purple ones.

Ranma waited until after he was given the glass, lifting it to his mouth with a shaky hand. Some of it ran down his shirt, but he got most of it into his mouth. He smiled however at the two girls. "Had to do it that way. You don't think that some Lannister scout is going to be able to get past whatever defenses are down by the Ruby Ford? By this time I've no doubt the Lannisters could've made a few small coracles or something to send scouts or even a single messenger forward over the Blue Fork, then they could make their way further north. They'll eventually be able to travel up to the Twins. I want them to see what happened to the Twins, the way I did it rather than the normal fire or siege damage. They'll have to wonder if we have some kind of secret weapon or something, and that kind of thing might force Tywin to change tactics."

"It might make him leery of fighting any kind of siege battle," Daenerys murmured. "It's a long shot, but one that might prove worth it I suppose. It also showed the army that your powers and abilities do have a personal cost. According to Domeric and Alayaya many of the men were taking it for granted, that you could practically do anything or could simply go on all the time with those techniques of yours, even a few of your friends thought that." Edd, Smalljon and Hathan had all been astonished when Ranma collapsed, though Jon had quickly reassured them, filling them in on what had happened.

Myrcella frowned noncommittally while Daenerys continued. "It also shows that you're still human to those who might have been a little worried about it." That of course hadn't counted any of the wolfsworn among their number, but when news of the destruction of the Water Tower had spread throughout the Army there had been some mutterings that Ranma might not even be human, simply a creature conjured up by the old gods to be their champion. The knights of House Manderly in particular had become wary of that, their faith in the Seven making them concerned.

Those murmurs had since disappeared, and the men's belief in Ranma's humanity had returned fivefold. Not just because of his collapse, but because of the way he and Daenerys had dealt with the children they had 'captured' and the women and common armsmen as well. In fact morale in the army was incredibly high over the two nearly bloodless victories they had won so far.

"Where are we now?" Ranma asked. "I hope you didn't let the army stay near the Twins while I was out of it."

"No I didn't," Daenerys said her lips twisted slightly in a frown. She had to convince Rickard of that. With Jon and the other wolfsworn backing her it had been a simple enough task, just an irritating one since Lord Karstark wasn't willing to simply take her word for it. Not that Daenerys really thought she was up to the task of leading the army or anything, but everyone knew their short-term plans, and there shouldn't have been any question of moving on. "We've been making our way straight down to Seagard. The road isn't very good here, but it at least is better than moving through brush and woodland. According to Domeric, we'll enter House Charlton lands soon, though what our welcome will be he doesn't know. He says they were Frey supporters, their lord might even have married a daughter of Old Walder. Hopefully they are intelligent enough to not fight a pointless battle, but I don't know."

Ranma nodded. They were heading to Seagard not just to meet up with Lord Mallister and receive any news he had, they also needed to pick up pack horses and food there. Ranma had sent much of the armies own store further south with the rest of the Army on the other side of the Green Fork. They had taken from the Twins is much as they needed to reach the city, leaving what remained to be used for the prisoners sent north and for the men they had left there to defend the barbicans on either side of the bridge.

Because of its design the Twins had never really needed to stock as many supplies as a normal castle would, considering it was almost impossible to siege since the bridge connected the two parts of the Twins across the powerful river. Any army truly besieging it would have to do so from both sides of the Green Fork, which the Twins of course would have ample warning off. Still, the supplies there would get the army to Seagard, especially with Meera and her hunters adding to the pot.

"After we reach Seagard, do you have any idea of our long-term plans?" Daenerys asked, abruptly changing the subject.

"We need to push the Lannisters out of the Riverlands and secure the border with the Westerlands. I'm not gonna try to plan anything further than that until we get some real up-to-date intelligence, which probably won't happen until we reach Fairmarket, but that's our goal fer now .For a short term plan I'd like some food, how's that?" Ranma asked barely a millisecond before his stomach began to growl.

The two girls laughed and Myrcella stood up to go and get him some food from the fires, dropping a small hairbrush on the folding table. Ranma realized she must have been doing Daenerys' hair or vice versa, which would explain the humming. As the younger girl left Daenerys leaned over kissing Ranma lovingly on the lips for a moment before pulling back, one eyebrow cocked. "You worried me tremendously when you collapsed you know. Please don't make a habit of that."

"Try not to." Ranma said chuckling a little before Daenerys once more leaned forward kissing him on the lips.

OOOOOOO

"Keep your shield up!" Arya said, her sword flicking out to tag Cley in the upper arm to show why. "Don't let it falter no matter how tired you are!" She dodged Cley's almost frantic return swing negligently, using her free arm to tap his inner arm, adding more momentum to it then bringing up her other arm and elbowing him in the chest with enough force to throw the slightly younger boy to the ground. 'Don't over extend either, and never put so much strength into a blow you lose your balance. That's one mistake I made a lot of times at first: you don't have to put all your strength and every blow Cley, just enough to do the job." She said reaching down to help him stand up again.

Cley scowled a little, not liking how Arya was throwing him around. Didn't she know the girls were supposed to be weaker than boys? Of course he should've known better after seeing Dacey in action, but some things were harder to beat out of a boy his age than others.

He glared over at where Nymeria was lounging, her eyes seemingly laughing at him. "Your wolf's laughing at me again."

"She does that when she sees something funny." Arya said laughing as well. "More endurance lessons for you I think. Keep doing the exercises that Ranma showed for another week, then we'll try sparring again."

She shook her head as Cley went off, seeing Myrcella leave her brothers tent and joining her quickly. She and the other wolfsworn had played rock-parchment-bladeto see who would oversee Cley's training until her brother was up and about, and Arya had unfortunately lost. She wasn't a very good teacher frankly: she was much too hard on him, much too eager to go beyond overseeing his exercises to get to the actual sword fighting, which she had just seen he wasn't quite ready for.

Out of the corner of her eye Arya saw Daenerys leaving her brothers tent as well, and moved over to her quickly. "Is he awake?"

Daenerys nodded, looking over to where Nymeria was watching her little ones. Sunfyre and Rhaegon were wary of the Nymeria for some reason, but not trying to object to her presence. One of the direwolves was always around them when Daenerys was busy with something else and couldn't have them by her side for one reason or another. Fenris of course was their favorite, but he and Ghost were out with Jon and Meera scouting out the path of the army.

Turning back she addressed Arya's question in greater detail. "He's awake, though he'll probably fall asleep again after eating something. He's not going to be 100% he says for another few days."

Arya nodded taking that in stride and Daenerys asked the question she had been meaning to ever since the battle. "How are you feeling by the way?" Arya cocked her head on not understanding the question, and Daenerys elaborated. "I mean after the fight in the Twins. I don't mean to sound insulting, but you are the youngest of the wolfsworn, and you all did most of the fighting there. Yet for all of that it doesn't seem to bother you."

"It doesn't, not really." Arya said shrugging her shoulders. "What I prefer not to have to kill people, to fight like that, I suppose so. But they were threats to my family, and had proven themselves dishonorable so…" She shrugged. "It doesn't bother me much." Or at all really.

Daenerys frowned a little at that. She knew it had bothered Ranma after the battle, having likened it to fighting so many children, not a single man among the Freys had been able to put up a decent fight. Jon and a few of the others also had problems with it. But Arya was much more wolf-like than her older siblings and she didn't try to analyze it overmuch. They were enemies of the pack, therefore they had to die.

After a moment she spoke, choosing her words carefully. "I suppose they were. Just don't make the mistake of seeing enemies where there aren't any. Eventually we will be talking to families that have yet to choose a side or families that had no choice but to follow the Lannisters and we can't deal with them as we did the Frey. Don't be so quick to use your Fang in other words."

Arya shrugged again. "So long as I don't face them in actual battle I won't, I'll leave the decision-making of who to aim my Fang towards to others." She looked around, having spotted Meera of the corner of her eye returning with a few other hunters. She nodded farewell to Daenerys then hurried over to join her friend.

The next day the march continued. With Ranma still unable to run or ride Fenris, being in one of the few carts this portion of the northern army still had with them. He slept most of the day, waking up to eat before going back to sleep, rebuilding his ki reserves. He stayed that way for three days, even as the army moved west leaving the Green Fork behind as they followed a small dirt road toward Seagard.

This left it to Rickard and Jon to address the Charlton knight who was waiting for them a few hours travel inside that house's land. His lance was couched in his saddle holder to stand straight up with a white flag on the end of it in token of parley.

With Daenerys and the two dragons hiding at the back of the army for now Rickard and Jon made their way forward a ways from the army, though it kept moving behind them. As soon as they were close enough to hear the man bellowed his challenge, raising his visor to show a youngish face. "I am Ser Jeremy Charlton. I am here to speak for my uncle, Lord Charlton. Who are you to try to march and army over my house's land unannounced and unasked?"

"I am Jon Stark and this is Lord Karstark." Jon said motioning to the older man but beside him. "We speak for our Lord, Lord Stark, who is in command of this Army. We go south to aid the rest of the Riverlands against the invading Lannisters, doing our familial duty in helping Lord Tully, our grandfather." Well, the man wasn't Jon's actual grandfather, but he wasn't about to go into that kind of detail here.

"I note that you have come by way of the Twins, but I don't see any Frey banners with your men. Might I ask how this is come to be?"

"The Twins are no more." Rickard said grimly, though he was enjoying the look up the young knight's face at that news. "House Frey tried to raise its banners for the Lannisters rather than stick to their oath of fealty to their Lord Paramount. As such we, under orders from the voice of Lord Tully captured the Twins, destroyed the castle and the House. The Frey name is no more."

Of course there were Freys still out there, and they wouldn't be affected by that declaration until they were either beaten or taken captive, but without the Twins and the power of their family, there was nothing they could do about it, and what allies they had made would no longer be willing to put up with them if they acted anything like those from the Twins.

The younger man's eyes widened further, hearing the destruction of his House's patrons. The Charlton's were a minor House in all but name, and had long since given their fealty to the Freys, something that was well known in the Riverlands. To hear of their destruction stated so casually, and especially to see what looked like a rather small army having done it… "I take it the victory was not entirely one sided?" He asked, trying to fish for information.

"Actually it was almost entirely one sided, we took only a few fatalities taking the Twins." Jon replied. "The Frey was rather foolish. If you keep acting in a certain manner, people will start to assume that is the only way you will act correct?"

Jeremy nodded, wondering where the other young man was going with this.

"We used that against them. We went forward into the Twins under a flag of parley, and when Old Walder tried to take us captive despite that, we were ready for them." He was not going to say how they were ready however, or that it'd been only the wolfsworn who had taken part in that counter-ambush. That tale would of course spread once they reach Seagard and the prisoners and the rest of the army were able to rest, but for now it wasn't necessary.

"I see." Jeremy said, wondering how his uncle was going to react to this. "Will you call upon my House for our men? I have to tell you that most of up our forces is already committed to defend the smallfolk in the Cape of Eagles from raids by the Ironborn."

"Have those begun already?" Rickard asked sharply, moving his horse closer.

Jeremy flicked his eyes over to him and nodded grimly. "Yes, my lord. There've only been a few, but with the speed of their longships they have a significant advantage against any response force we try to send. They've burned out one hamlet I know of and some farmsteads as well as four fishing communities. They've also carried off at least twenty women from the last report. They'll get bolder if they aren't challenged soon of course, and when they do we might have a better opportunity to catch them."

"Has Lord Mallister also sent men into the Cape?" Jon asked.

"Some my lord, about seven or eight hundred light cavalry I believe. They've also sent in several cartloads worth of weapons to arm the smallfolk there from the smiths of Seagard. With his need to keep a defensive force at Seagard itself and having already sent men down to help defend Fairmarket against the Lannisters, that was probably all Lord Mallister could send." Jeremy thought himself well-informed about such matters having been to Seagard several times, and having rotated back up to patrolling the Frey/Charlton border due to a bad fall he had taken several weeks ago when his horse came up lame. Still, he didn't realize that Jason had also sent four hundred heavy cavalry into the Cape as well.

Jon frowned, but Rickard laid a hand on his shoulder. "Priorities lad, we can't be strong everywhere. I know it hurts, but it would take our entire army to try and patrol the cape effectively against the Ironborn, and the Lannisters are a much more potent threat."

After nodding reluctant agreement Jon turned back to Jeremy. "We won't require you to add more men to our army. Instead inform your Lord to simply keep protecting his charges." Of course Jon knew Ranma would be unwilling to have had a former Frey ally as part of his army in the first place, but at least House Charlton was doing something the house was obligated to do, defending the smallfolk of the cape.

The young knight nodded before moving off the road, standing his horse to one side as the army marched on. For just a moment Jeremy thought he caught a glimpse of some kind of lizard on one of the few carts he saw, and a flash of silver somewhere nearby. Shaking his head at what obviously was simply a trick of the light he turned away and began the day's long trek towards his house's keep, wondering how his uncle would react to the fall of their patron.

That reaction was to follow the winner. Lord Charlton was not in fact married to a Frey woman, and he was a canny enough fellow to realize who had a winning hand. With the Freys no longer having any power to speak of, the ones connected to his family became a liability. The two squires were informed of their change in status, and the women, one married to his castellan and the other to his third son were told as well . They didn't like the fact that their own House had no power any longer, and the squires were furious that their last name had been erased from the rolls of nobility, but all four were easily contained by the rest of the House.

OOOOOOO

Lord Charlton was not the only one who could see the way the wind was blowing after the two battles the northern expedition had fought already. The majordomo of House Haigh could also see it as he looked at the army camping outside the holdfast of the house that he was pledged to defend. It seemed vast to his untrained eye, not that it needed to be since his lord had only left a dozen men to defend his holdfast.

"I see, my lord." he said nodding his head to Brynden Tully. Everyone knew his personal sigil, a black trout swimming above wavy lines of red and blue, even if he had never met the man personally. "Ser Haigh only left a single babe of barely a year here, and his wife died recently in childbirth." He did not mention that the woman had had three miscarriages before giving birth to the young boy, who was sickly and pale, unlikely to live for many years. Or that Ser Haigh had kept her pregnant as much as possible following Old Walder's example. "If he and his brothers and their men are indeed gone, there is no reason for myself and the other servants to put up any kind of resistance."

"That's good. You show much more intelligence than your previous Lord." Brynden said nodding. "We won't harm the boy, though he will be known as a Rivers from now on rather than Haigh. House Haigh is no more, and that banner up there should be taken down and burned."

Looking past Brynden at that large violent looking giant on an even larger warhorse the man gulped a little and nodded. "I'll just go see to that right now my Lord."

The moment the other the man left Greatjon laughed. "Was there something on my face?"

"Yes your great bushy beard and those bushy eyebrows. How do you see out of that shaggy carpet you call a face anyway?" Brynden said scoffing at the other man. "And don't tell me you haven't gone out of your way to cultivate that image of a Northern barbarian."

"It does help at times." Greatjon laughed. "When merchants come to deal with my family I always make a point to let them wait, then my servants spread rumors about how I tend to pull arms out of sockets and beat merchants to death with them if they become too argumentative."

Brynden laughed as well, shaking his head. House Erenford had fallen much the same way. With their head of house dead along with all of his men, there was no one at home who was willing to lay down their life for a knightly house with no members left. That man hadn't even been married, and his castellan had been almost desperate to not fight the victorious 'northern horde'.

After a moment Greatjon went on much more seriously. "How much longer before we're on to the lands of one of the major Riverlands houses we're supposed to treat with?"

"At the rate our army moves, two days to get off House Haigh's lands then we'll be on House Wayn's. It won't be long before old man Wayn knows we're there, but he won't be in any hurry to come out and meet us. Another four days, and two hamlets before we're near his keep if we keep following the Kingsroad."

"And what do you think his and the other's reactions will be?"

"I honestly don't know." Brynden shook his head, lips twisted in a rueful smirk. "I realize I'm supposed to handle the diplomatic talks here, but we just don't know how these houses see the Lannisters, or the rumors about what happened in King's Landing. I can make guesses based on the fact that some of their heirs were friends with my nephew, but how much of that will influence their father's reactions I don't know." He did have some idea, but wasn't about to get his hopes up.

Greatjon nodded, smirking a little as he saw that the banner over the former Haigh holdfast was already being pulled down. "That's fine I suppose, we'll just have to be ready for anything. I wonder how the rest of the army is doing though."

The next day as the majority of the northern army prepared to march they received a messenger who informed them of the successful attack on the twins, and further reiterating Ranma's orders. What neither man realized was that Ranma had sent them south knowing that they probably wouldn't be able to talk the houses there into joining them. Not until he and Daenerys joined them at any rate. No, what they were was a visible sign of the North's march, which he hoped would take the attention of any Tywin's spies.

OOOOOOO

The Ironborn's scouting of the shorelines did not produce very good results, which won Asha some points with some of the more thoughtful captains, though it enraged others. The shore around the Rills and in particular the river mouths were patrolled heavily by light cavalry. Instead of rushing to battle those patrols retreated, no doubt to whistle up heavier forces through use of a series of watch fires that could be seen following the path of the rivers deeper inland. Instead of waiting there for those forces to arrive, the Ironborn pulled back moving further up the coast. Even the most iron-headed captain wasn't going to fight a battle like that with no plunder to gain from it.

They found that the Stony Shore was as much a disappointment but in a very different way, as was Sea Dragon Point. There several ships anchored, angered at not the results of scouting out the Rills. They landed their full complements near a tiny fishing village they saw perched on the rocky, almost barren ground of the shore. To their dismay however that hamlet was empty. Further scouting produced no people, and few goods for them to carry off.

That had angered Lord Stonehouse so much he and his family's ships remained there and marched inland with the intention of heading as they could in search of something to raid. Asha didn't learn about that until after it had occurred, having taken Black Wind to Deepwood Motte for a trading expedition. That was normal enough she hadn't aroused any suspicion: ships of course always needed fresh food and most particularly meats and potable water.

She traded silks and linens taken in her last raid before coming back to her ship, frowning heavily at how well defended the town was. It hadn't been reinforced, the wall around the town was still wooden and the keep in its center was still run down, but there was no lessening in the defender's numbers. So whatever muster had occurred in the North hadn't included House Glover.

Asha had also taken the time to ask very obliquely about the wolfsworn and Theon. The wolfsworn sounded fascinating, the idea of a fighting force that good was interesting, if true. Theon's place, as one of the wolfsworn but sort of to the side in some ways, was also interesting, as was the news he was acting as admiral of a fleet in the Bite and further north along that side of the North. The newest rumors were even more interesting, saying that Theon was leading a naval assault on the Three Sisters. She wanted some time to think about those, and what it might mean that Theon apparently was so trusted, and what that could mean in the long term for her as well.

When all the ships once more gathered off Sea Dragon Point, Ralf Kenning told her what had occurred. She ordered the fleet to head down to the Stonehouse's landing spot immediately, coming within sight of the place they had made landing the next day. Instead of finding their ships left there under guard, Asha and the others saw five burned-out husks, along with several heads stuck on the ends of spears sticking out of the rocky shore.

"The Northerners somehow realized that we were going to try to take advantage of the current unrest." Asha said shaking her head and staring at the sight, while a few other captains had joined her, pulling their ships alongside and coming across to stand with her.

"How'd they do that then?" Ralf muttered, scratching at his beard as he looked at Dustan and Harren, wondering if they knew, ignoring Asha almost automatically.

Both men grimaced, though it was Dustan Drumm who replied, rubbing at his craggy face, his eyes bloodshot with drink but still thoughtful. "Small attacks over time on our men as they marched deeper in land, no food to be found maybe. They pulled their smallfolk back all along their shores, fucking Northern pussies!"

Despite his words, his tone was actually respectful. "I hadn't expected it, but that kind of defense in depth is one we can't deal with. None of us're used to fightin'in forests which make up most of the North and we don't have enough stores to march overland, plus no experience livin' off it. And the fucking cold up here's another damn enemy we need to deal with!"

Protected as they were by the Flint Cliffs of Flint's Finger and the rest of the North, the Iron Islands had mostly mild weather year-round. Oh for certain they had their share of storms and more, but it was much colder up here than most were used to. They'd prepared for it, but not so well as to be able to march overland to take targets weeks inland, nor did they have any skills in living off the land.

"Are we just going to let this slide!" said the Sparr. He pointed angrily at the five burned-out ships. "Five good crews dead with nothing to show for it!? We need to march inland, find the people who did this and gut them for fish bait!"

Asha wanted to say that those crews had paid the ultimate Iron Price for a poor return, but she refrained. Instead she shook her head. "No, we won't win any battles trying to fight our enemy on their terms. Besides, all of this was a sideshow. And as I said, they can't be strong everywhere. If they've reinforced Deepwood Motte, and have men enough to wipe out five ships crews near here, it might mean our main objective is still doable."

That ended the grumbling for now, and the ships slowly began to turn away from the shore.

OOOOOOO

In one of the houses of the small fishing village Lord Hornwood looked out a window cautiously, staring out to sea at the ships there, not even using the spyglass Eddard had given him for fear the sun would reflect on it and give away his position. Around him four armsmen waited nervously, not liking the fact that their Lord had come forward off their main army like this. Their horses also stamped their feet, uncomfortable in the small enclosed area but they had been tied down securely, and the sound of their stamping feet wouldn't carry to the ships out there.

Asha was incorrect in assuming that the crews of the five Stonehouse ships had already been wiped out. The heads out there weren't of anyone special, simply taken from the dead after a nighttime raid in order to make this little show for the rest of the Ironborn that much more potent. Those crews were still trying to make their way through Sea Dragon Point towards something, anything that they could target. They weren't having much luck of course, since Eddard Stark had decided to adopt a defense in depth against any Ironborn incursion, and ordered his people in the Stony Shore and Sea Dragon Point deeper inland.

When Lord Glover or Lord Hornwood came in person as his representatives along with men to enforce that rule, even the most recalcitrant smallfolk family had obeyed. The population of Torrhen's Square, Deepwood Motte, and the winter town around Winterfell had doubled because of this, but those people were at least safe for now. Then Eddard had placed Lord Hornwood in command of the defense of Sea Dragon Point, and asked Lord Cerwyn to place his remaining cavalry and archers, about seven hundred men, under Lord Ryswell's command to help defend the rivers in and out of the Rills. Hornwood had near to a thousand men from House Stark and his own, plus a hundred men from the mountain clans, and days' worth of scrubland, hills and forests to play with.

Every night the mountain clansmen under his command came out, and once or twice Eddard and his men had also joined in, either in daytime or nighttime raids on their camps or their line of advance. It couldn't be called a march after all, not nearly organized enough. The Ironborn had started their march in land with around seven hundred and fifty men all told. That number was down to a bare four hundred at this point, but their captains were still around and still determined to find something to attack. They wouldn't be able to. Even if they got past Halys, forces from Ryswell and Cerwyn were already prepared down where the Point met the mainland. The moment they came out of the rough terrain of Sea Dragon Point, the Ironborn invaders would be slaughtered in the open.

For now however Halys concentrated on watching the ships out there, wondering what the Ironborn commander would do about the loss of five ships. His musing were interrupted by a young but determined voice speaking up behind him. "My Lord, with respect I have to say again this was ill-advised. We should pull back immediately"

"And let them see us?" Halys said, amused as he turned to one of his guards, a young man named Lester. Lester was an inexperienced youngster from House Bole, one of the minor Houses that looked to Glover. He was eager to prove himself and had jumped at the chance to join Halys' forces, only belatedly realizing that far from being a mere honor, this might place him in a very dangerous position with no chance to shine in front of girls. As he had manifestly hoped for when informed they were not going to be staying in Deepwood Motte. "No we'll keep watch until they are out of sight before moving on."

Halys was still watching an hour later after the ships pulled up anchor and moved away from the shoreline. "A cautious commander among the Ironborn." he murmured. "Interesting. Does that mean that they are done trying to attack the North, or are they going for some other target?" He turned away, moving towards the horses. "Come, I want to send messages to House Glover and House Ryswell, oh and Reed as well, just in case. Then I think our current crop of… guests should be dealt with."

OOOOOOO

The grumbling among the captains started up once more when she ordered the rest of the ships to wait at the mouth of the Fever river as she and Black Wind made their way upriver towards Moat Cailin. What she saw there made Asha shake her head in dismay. Around her, her crew was also muttering as they poled the longship forward in the dark, not even a single lamp visible as they nosed through the river towards their target. Even without light of their own they could make the tower that defended the moat from this direction.

That tower wasn't supposed to be there! It was supposed to be a ruin, not lit up so bright with what looked like at least 20 men on patrol up top, and what looked like a catapult of some kind up there as well. And there certainly wasn't supposed to be a wall defending the area around it, nor what looked like a dozen more men on those walls. Not according to her father, who never thought the North would repair the Moat, but it did match what the Sparr had called salt wives tales.

"The rumors were correct." she said, her voice like lead. "The moat's been repaired to defend it from this flank. Attacking that would be suicide."

"Are you sure about that captain?" said Qarl. Despite his name of The Maid, given to him because he couldn't grow even a hint of a beard, he was known as one of the fiercest warriors among the Ironborn. Yet even he quailed at the idea of attacking the prepared defense they saw further down the Fever. Still he had other things to worry about. "I'm not disagreeing with you, I'm just wondering how the other captains will react."

"I want every man among you to take a turn up top to look at that." She ordered looking around at the men around her, which was most of her crew. She had been prepared to order an attack immediately with only her own crew if she by saw an opening to do it, but this was beyond her worse nightmares. "That way every one of you can be a witness to why we won't be attacking this place. I'd rather have you all alive to be of use elsewhere rather than throw your lives way here for no gain." she said. Paying the Iron Price only matters if we actually get something for our iron.

Back with the rest of the fleet that news and her opinion of what it meant did indeed cause trouble. "We should still attack!" said the Sparr, slamming his hand on the tabletop. He made no move to rise or challenge Asha however, not yet, there was no need right now. If Asha kept on telling the others they shouldn't attack, then there would be no need to directly challenge her, and possibly anger her family. "We're reavers damn it, not puling landsmen who retreat when the going gets tough!"

"And faced with that defense, what would we do? No, I realize my father wanted us to attack the moat so that we can hold that against the North so we could attack the Riverlands without fear of the North coming to their aid, but the rumors should've suggested to him that that was a fool's errand. Now that we know the rumors were true, I'm not going to throw away anyone's lives there."

There were some sneers at that, her show of compassion for her men not being in keeping with the normal Ironborn way of command, but she went on quickly before anyone else spoke up. "No, we'll head further south instead, to a much richer prize."

"Seagard!" said one the captains eagerly.

Two others however shook their heads reflexively remembering the disaster of the battle there during the first rebellion before. "If the North was ready for us there's no doubt House Mallister is as well, we'd receive hard knocks and little treasure for our steel. And other captains have already been sent to the Cape of Eagles and Ironman's Bay. The pickings are slim enough there, we'll end up fighting one another to get anything good." Dunstan said, shaking his head. But his eyes were hard as he stared at Asha, wondering if she really was unworthy of this command if she was willing to ignore her father's orders to attack the North, and seeing an opportunity.

"There are other, better targets further south than Seagard anyway." Asha tapped her map, her finger on a castle on an island off the Westerlands coast that many of the older captains recognized. "Here. If the attack on Lannisport has gone in, they no doubt either be screaming for the ships assigned to Faircastle to retake it, or screaming for aid to stop Lord Orkwood's attack. That means Faircastle itself might be open to attack."

Some of the captains murmured excitement at that idea. After all, the Westerlands were a much richer land than the North, and there was a certain symbolism to raiding Faircastle. After all, it had been the sight of the battle that broke the Iron Fleet during Balon's first attempt at rebellion.

"I know that my opinion on the idiocy of attacking the North isn't popular, and I know that it flies in the face of my father's orders." Asha emphasized the word 'father', forcing the captains around her to remember that she wasn't just a woman she was the only child of the King of the Iron Islands that apparently was still loyal. "So instead of simply trying to order you all around like you were landlubbers, we should settle this the Ironborn way!"

Asha stood up, throwing back her stein of mead before turning the stein over in midair to slam it down top first on the table to show there wasn't a drop left. Then she reached down, pulling out a small throwing ax from beside the table before twirling it in her hand.

That caused the watchers to shout in delight. Even the captains laughed, wondering where she was going with this, even the Sparr and those like him were silent for now. She smiled grimly internally, though on the surface she allowed a devil-may-care grin appear on her face as she began to throw the small ax up in the air, catching it on the down turn. "Who else here has ideas of where we should strike?"

"Me!" said the Sparr slamming his hand down on the table. In response to Asha's challenge he too drained his mug, turning it around in midair before slamming it down as well. "Bear Island! Their women haven't felt the iron shafts of the islands for far too long! And they can't get reinforcements to it without passing through the ocean, our ocean! I'd take a single Ironborn ship against an entire fleet o' northern wolf-fuckers!" That won him a roar of approval, and six or seven other captains all shouted their agreement.

"I." said Ralf, though he didn't bother draining his stein of mead, having already done so. He pointed down at the map on the table instead, tapping the inland Lake. "There's a town here, Torrhen's Square. We take it, strip the town to the ground and then leave by the river. Strike fast, strike hard, then leave before they can mobilize against us before hitting somewhere else."

That too one some murmurs of approval, though not the roars that the Sparr's more 'eloquent' speech did. Still some of the more thoughtful captains, Dunstan Drumm among them, nodded agreement. The plunder would be better from a town than from Bear Island after all, if they could get past the watch fires at the mouth of the Rys.

Asha was startled to see that the other two captains from House Kenning however didn't. Those two had voiced approval of her plan. Now, while inter-house disagreements weren't exactly unusual among the Ironborn, in point of fact they were the norm, but House Kenning normally moved in lockstep. House Harlaw also moved like that, so it hadn't surprised her that the five ships that they had sent north with Asha were willing to follow her.

She had excellent relations with the Harlaws, and most particularly their Lord, Rodrick. Asha really liked that old man, even if he wasn't really seen as a true follower of the Old Way thanks to how much reading he did and the fact he had brought in a maester to take care of his collection after septons were no longer allowed in the Iron Islands. Rodrick, Asha remembered now, had spoken out against the resumption of war with Westeros. He had in fact said they should have looked to the Stepstones or even the Summer Islands instead, but Balon had overruled him, and Rodrick would follow House Greyjoy whatever happened. I know he sent most of his house's strength with Victarion, but he stayed behind with a decent portion of it. I might wish to stop in to talk to him before moving further south.

"Me." said it a third voice, also reaching for to tap the map, jarring Asha out of her thoughts. Hector Sunderly had taken over command of the Sunderly ships since his cousin's untimely death, and he glared hard at Asha. Not, as most mainland lords would expect, because she had killed his cousin. No, House loyalty mattered very little among most of the Ironborn. He glared at her because Asha was a woman, that was all. "Deepwood Motte might be well defended, but it's a smaller House than most Northern ones and it's a richer prize then the Square town. You said der defenses were still there, but if'n we 'it someat nearby, they'll send der armsmen out ta deal with 'at. Then we can hop in our ships, and get back ta Deepwood Motte afore der defenders ken backtrack."

That was actually a much more intelligent suggestion from him then Asha was expecting, but that was alright. The main objective of this little discussion after all was to make certain that her fleet didn't fall into infighting. Anything else was secondary.

"All right," Asha said aloud, catching her axe by the shaft at the highest point of its flight. "That means we've got four people here who think they know what our fleet should do, so here's what I propose. We'll face one another in the finger dance, the first to lose a finger loses their right to say what the fleet should do! The last one standing gets her plans adopted!"

That won a roar of approval from everyone, as well as some good natured jeering at her assumption of victory. All Ironborn liked the finger dance, the bloodier the better, so long as it wasn't your blood. One captain however bellowed, "Not enough! Give 'em a twirl!"

Asha found herself grabbed from behind then quickly spun around in place as the Sparr and the others were forced to endure the same. Then they were pushed away from the table into a quickly opening area of the deck, as her crew bellowed encouragement. The noise of the commotion reaching them over the distance between them, a few other longships began to make their way over, and one or two of Asha's crew turned to shout out what was going on.

Finally released from the hands who had grabbed her, Asha stood in one place, feeling a little dizzy as she stopped spinning. She was still able to grip the mug of mead that was pushed into one hand, throwing it back easily. She lowered it, and exchanged a subtle wink with Qarl, you hadn't been the one to pass her the mug, but he did pass the mug to the person who in turn passed it to her. Un-Ironborn it might be, but Asha meant to win this, not lose her fingers.

Two other men, both Harlaw men from her crew, were seeing to the other participants giving them mugs as well, but those were not watered down. They weren't added to very much, just enough to give it a little more kick but not enough for anyone to notice the taste. If you're not cheating you're not trying, Asha thought to herself, having heard that line from some merchant or other. It was true in business it was true in life, and that was precisely what she wanted to do, keep on living.

She wobbled forward, her ax held loosely in one hand. "Alright you flotsam of the main!" She said tossing the ax into the air and catching it easily. "Who's ready to dance!?"A few of her crewmen pulled out instruments and began to play a very fast jig as the Sparr moved forward to take her his place across from her.

Their axes flashed as one through the air between them, and Asha caught the one tossed her easily, twirling in place and doing a little dance. The Sparr caught his, and tried to dance but he had never been really that good at dancing in the first place and the ale he had drunk since coming aboard ship hadn't helped matters. Particularly since he hadn't drunk them on a full stomach, he put some ale in it first.

Again and again the two of them exchanges their axes and again and again they danced. The song got faster and faster the throws faster and faster, and after every fourth throw they would have to stop to be twirled around by the crowd and forced to drink some more ale. Eventually of course this proved too much, and the Sparr missed his attempt to catch the axe thrown to him, losing the tip of one finger from the whirling ax head as it passed by. There was a roar of delight from most of the crowd but a few of his own crewmen, who had clambered aboard ship during this engagement, booed and hissed, as they began to help him away.

Asha raised her hand and victory, grinning happily. One down. She took her place in the crowd, watching as Ralf and Hector had their own dance, and it was Ralf who won this round.

By then several other dances were going on throughout the fleet on other ships and even one at the other end of the ship. The sight of blood, song and free-flowing ale had done its work, but Asha still had one person she had to beat. She shook herself, now feeling the effect of even the water-downed ale, and made to move forward.

But Ralf shook his head. "It's done!" he shouted aloud, holding his ax up in the air with one hand and a mug of ale and the other. "Asha's plan to hit Faircastle is good! But we came to the North to raid it, and I'm not going back south without some booty! You all now have two choices to choose from, go south to raid Faircastle with Asha, or stay here and raid Torrhen's Square with me! Think of it, and tomorrow this fleet will split, those with Asha will go with her, and those who want to stay here in the north and teach these northern pussies what the Iron Born can do will stay with me!"

Asha frowned at the way he had so easily taken control of the fleet, making it appear as if he was the leader. But she noticed how Dunstan Drumm was whispering in his ear, and realized that she hadn't been the only one to be planning ahead here. Still, she thought to herself as the crowd roared their approval, at least this way we won't be fighting one another.

So instead of pointlessly protesting Asha nodded her head and raised her own voice. "That's fine, if even half of this fleet can't get some plunder from some damn townies, then we're not real Ironborn. Make them pay the Iron Price here, and I'll go to Faircastle and we'll join the rest of our men there in showing the Westerlands pussies that it's the Ironborn who rule the sea!" That won some cheers of course, and the impromptu party went on from there.

The next day the fleet split. Of the twenty remaining ships, it astonished Asha that twelve ships agreed to go with her. It was a decent enough force, more than enough to take Faircastle if used correctly. The other eight ships, led by Ralf and including both Dunstan and the Sparr, removing all of the more dangerous remaining captains, decided to stay here in the North. That was well beyond what Asha had hoped for, and she led her now much reduced fleet back down south happily.

OOOOOOO

The eight ships under Ralf made their way down towards Blazewater Bay, then from there up the Rys towards Torrhen's Square, moving at night at first to pass the mouth of the river, which was patrolled by the Northerners. This didn't let them slip by unnoticed and the warning fires flared in the night behind them. But they were going too fast all hands to oars forging upriver in a single line for that to really matter.

Ralf's longship was in the lead, with the Sparr's directly after, with the Thunderer third in line. It would be barely a day before they broke out of the River into the lake and from there a bare hour to make their way across the Lake to the town that was their target.

Despite what he himself thought, Ralf hadn't been the one to organize this attack. Yes, he had been the one to choose the target, but Ralf Kenning wasn't intelligent enough to have come up with the plan they were following, traversing the mouth of the Rys at night and going hell for leather up river. Dunstan knew he wasn't as well liked as Ralf, nor did he have as good a combat reputation, but he was intelligent, and more than willing to use Ralf as his front man. But Ralf alas didn't have enough charisma to really have rallied the support Dunstan had hoped for this, which is why they were only eight ships, not the fourteen that Dunstan had thought could be swayed away from the Greyjoy cunt's leadership.

Dunstan had lost a son and a brother to the Northerners when they invaded the Iron Islands, and had lost his rock wife to one of them as well. She hadn't died, she had been seduced away from him, and she left the islands with the man who had done it, a man who wore the banner of a moose on his tabard, Dunstan would never forget that. It was one thing to lose a battle, or even a war, it was another to have his own rock wife, the wife born from the Ironborn culture, to choose another man over him and break their vows.

Ever since then Dunstan had hoped and prayed to the Drowned God for a chance to avenge himself on the north. He didn't care if it was that man, in fact he didn't particularly see any way it could be, but he wanted the North as a whole to pay. He wanted to take a dozen salt wives from among their women and show them that the Ironborn were the true masters and not the Northern men. He had hidden that well under his thoughtful exterior however, but when the opportunity came, he took it.

Dunstan stood now on the prow of his longship, one hand caressing the hilt of his family's Valyrian blade, Red Rain. He was eager, almost willing the ships in front of him on so that he could take his vengeance, but that hadn't stopped him from looking around. The area around the Rys' course was a mix of slight hills and rocky terrain, with a few trees here and there. It allowed him to see a long ways on either side of the river, and that was why he saw the first threat first.

Well out of bow range but close enough for him to see was a force of heavy cavalry, simply sitting on their horses, their lances up. The watchers in the crows nests of all the ships spotted them, and Dunstan was about to shout to ask the Sparr what he thought the Northern shits were doing. After all if they were here then they wouldn't be in place to help the defenders at the town itself.

However before he could Ralf's voice echoed back to him from his longship in the lead. "There's a barge of some kind a little ways in from the mouth of the river into the lake! I'll split off and take that, while the rest of you go on to…."

That was as far as Ralf got before there was a resounding earsplitting crash, and his ship shuddered from bow to stern, slowing down dramatically, so much that the Sparr's ship rammed his in the back, followed by the others ramming into his, none of them able to stop their forward momentum enough to halt. Ralf nearly lost his footing at the first sudden change of speed, grabbing at the tiller and cursing luridly as his ship was rammed from behind. "By the Drowned God, what happened!"

"We hit something in the water!" Said the lookout forward, staring down into the water.

"We're taking on water!" Said a voice shouting from below and then suddenly fire arrows began to fall onto the first two ships in line.

OOOOOOO

Rodrick, Lord of House Ryswell smiled thinly as he shifted his lance slightly. He and Eddard had exchanged several ravens over the past few weeks, debating the best way to defend the rivers that were the true weakness of the Rills, the section of the North that looked to his house as its defender. Eddard's boy Bran had come up with an extremely excellent idea that Rodrick had grasped with both hands. It was based on the fact that the Starks now had iron and steel running out of their ears, and that wooden ships were patently unable to stop a blow from a scorpion bolt slamming into them. So what would happen, Bran thought, if a ship moving as fast as it could up a river suddenly slammed bow on to a scorpion bolt hidden underneath the water?

Of course it wasn't really a scorpion bolt, it was simply a massive battering ram of iron, sharpened at one end. Sinking and placing it had been arduous work and they couldn't do anything to hide the thing, but it looked as if the Ironborn hadn't even seen it underneath the water. That massive spear had smashed directly into the hull the first ship, not only holing it, but halting the longship's forward momentum enough to have the other ship behind it crash into it, creating a logjam of sitting ducks. Where before each Ironborn ship had been moving forward slightly separate, now they were all tangled up together, unable to go forward, and snarled together too much to move back easily.

And it was about to get worse for them. Rodrick nodded at his signalman, who raised a large red banner into the air waving it in both hands in the air.

The barge that was drifting slightly on the current of the Lake about five hundred yards away from the entrance to the lake was a very crude affair. It had very heavy gunwales barely sanded down flooring, and a heavy but very shallow keel. But for all its crude nature it was an excellent firing platform for the four-hundred House Locke archers. They were the second half of House Locke's contribution to the northern war-making effort, just as the archers they had sent down to join Ranma was the first.

The northern longbow was so large that it could not be fired from horseback, or even by a running man for the most part, though a strong enough man could do that. However, it had a range and a power that was well beyond even the bows of the Riverlands, and certainly the smaller bows the Ironborn used. The barge was well out of the Ironborn's range, but the Ironborn were not out of their range. Worse, the first ship, nor even the second, could bring their single scorpions to bare on the barge.

And the archers were not firing normal arrows. No, as soon as that flag was waved, the top was removed from over a brazier, and the men aboard the barge lit their fire arrows from the coals inside it. As one they turned, and at their troop leaders command fired. Hundreds of fire arrows soared into the air forming a small comet storm that might have been beautiful seen from afar before they landed among the first few Ironborn ships.

Those ships had the command structure and the organization to combat fires aboard their ships, but they were snarled together. Each Ironborn ship was unable to back oars because of the one behind it and unable to go forward because Ralf's ship was in their way, unable to move. His ship was now sinking, rapidly blocking the entrance into the lake, blocking even the river's current from aiding their attempts to pull away.

Again and again arrows flew, slamming into ships hulls, sails, and everything else. The sheer amount of arrows and the flammable nature of everything aboard a ship fought against the organization of the Ironborn, which was disintegrating as every captain tried to save his ship alone, not working with any other fellows despite Dustan's best efforts. His voice couldn't carry over the shouts of his fellow Ironborn or the sound of the ships continuing to scrap together, plus the growing sound of fires burning away.

Moments into the battle the Sparr died, a fire arrow catching him in the shoulder where he had been in the rigging trying to help put out a fire on the sail. Screaming he let go of his grip, trying to pull out the burning arrow automatically, only to fall away from the rigging. He landed awkwardly on his neck on the deck below. Without him there, his men began to leap overboard, landing lightly in the water below at and then making their way to the riverbank.

With fires moving back from the first few to the others, leaping now with the aid of wind from sail to sail, Dunstan realized the longships were a lost cause and ordered his crew to leap overboard. Then he shouted to the ships behind him to do the same, gathering the men together.

Rodrick smiled grimly as he waved his shield arm in the air. The five hundred heavy cavalry around him trotting forward, moving at a sedate pace towards the Ironborn who were desperately trying to organize themselves on the side of the river. On the other side another force of archers, this group from House Stark along with another force of light cavalry began slashing attacks at the groups over there.

The troops on this side of the river were apparently led by a man who was wielding a red tinted blade bellowing orders and trying to organize the Ironborn who had made it onto the river bank. But they weren't organized enough, and not one of them had any kind of polearm. Ironborn didn't use those, not even spears save short stabbing spears. They used axes, maces, broadswords and longswords, weapons that could be used to deadly effect in the close combat of boarding actions. When facing cavalry on land they tended to rely heavily on the depth of their formations to slow the cavalry charge, then pinning the horsemen in place by using their own bodies. Here they didn't have nearly enough men, nor did they have the depth that was necessary.

Three hundred yards away from the rallying Ironborn, Rodrick held up a horn to his lips blowing twice before letting it fall. A second later his lance came down and he slammed his helmet's visor down. The horses all around them began to pick up speed, their own lances lowering as the men spread out into a line, a true, organized cavalry charge going against the type of target it was deadliest against.

Not an hour later, it was all over. With their backs against the river, shocked, disorganized and demoralized from their losses and their ships being on fire behind them, still dealing with the rain of arrows from the barge and not having the training to form any kind of shield wall, Rodrick's heavy cavalry had demolished them. He had lost a bare ten men, and every Ironborn aboard those ships had died in this action.

It would take weeks to remove the burned-out wreckage of the Ironborn ships from the Rys so it could be used for transferring goods again, and longer to remove the giant spear from the river, if it was still in position. This was doubtful given the impetus with which it was hit by that first ship, but the trap had worked, and so Lord Ryswell was very satisfied, despite the amount he had to pay the Starks to create and emplace the blasted thing.

Rodrick caught a glimpse of something on the ground, and quickly dismounted, moving through the rows of bodies that his cavalry had caused. He knelt down, pushing one body to the side to pull out the blade that he had seen from his horse. Lifting it up to the light, he smiled grimly. "A Valyrian blade!" he exclaimed waving in the air. "Well lads, if the Ironborn it can take plunder when they win, I think we can do the same to them that don't you?"

He was answered by a roar of approval, and he turned back cleaning the slightly red tinted blade thoughtfully on a piece of cloth from a corpse. He looked over at a few messengers who had rejoined him after the battle, youngsters from Torrhen's Square. "I'll have messengers for you boys to carry to House Stark, as well as back to the town. I think this bit of excitement is over. After that…"he said holding up the sword thoughtfully, remembering some things Ranma and Daenerys had said about their adventures. "I might need some men to carry this down to my son."

OOOOOOO

The portion of the northern army under Ranma's command came within sight of Seagard nearly a week after the discussion with the Charlton knight. The city was a sight to see even from here. Tall, well maintained walls surrounded it on three sides, while from here you could see several tall towers built out of the rock to defend the city from the ocean, and a large castle built on an outcropping jutting into the ocean, with a low wall connecting it to the city. With the port on both sides of the outcrop, the castle would act like Seal Rock did for White Harbor.

By this point Ranma was up and about, and had once again taken his place at the front of the army so he was there when a small delegation riding out from the city under Lord Mallister's banner came out to meet them, the horns on the walls sounding out a joyful tune. Jason reached slightly down to clasp hands with the young man running next to his direwolf, smiling. "Seven hells but it's good to see you lad, though I'm surprised to see you at all from this direction! How did you pass the Twins? Haven't the Freys sided with the Lannisters?"

"By flattening them my Lord." Ranma said gripping the other man's forearm firmly. "Lord Frey went to the trickery and deceit card once too often, we were prepared and took advantage of that."

At Jason's shocked look Ranma went into detail, after which the older man nodded grimly. "I see, yes that makes sense I suppose, and your punishments all were well thought out and just. I have a page from House Frey in my household, but I can place him with the others you sent to the sept. He is a religious boy who's confided in the septon of my keep several times that he has issues with the way the rest of his family go about their business. My maester and the septons of Seagard will be happy to aid the children, and I have an empty barracks that I can use to house your workers. Though what you wish to put them to working on, I don't know."

"Thank you, Jason." Ranma said sincerely, struggling a little to call the older man by his first name. "That's a weight off my chest." The ex-Frey boys had tried, but most were simply too young to take as pages or servants l. The boy who had attacked him, Luke, had found a patron however. Hathan had decided to take him as a squire. One other boy had been taken by a knight from House Manderly as his servant for now with the possible elevation to a page later on, but that was all.

"Do you have news from further south?" Ranma asked.

"Some, and none of it good." Jason said grimly. "The Lannisters have yet to make any further move deeper into the Riverlands, but I have no doubt they are consolidating their position on their side of the Red Fork. Refugees are still making their way out. Lord Tywin doesn't seem to be in any rush to ingratiate his forces with the local populace outside those on the lands of those Houses that have bent the knee. Do you know anything about the battle that happened down at the ford of the Kneeling Man?"

"I know the Lannisters won but lost enough men that they were forced to halt their northern march." Ranma said with a shrug. "Do you have any details to share?"

Jason laughed bitterly. "You might say that. My son's report about that was rather thorough, since he was able to speak to a few survivors. The news made for grim reading. Vypren went over to the Lannisters during the battle, opening the way across the ford for them. House Dedding's been wiped out, along with all of its men. House Vance of Atranta lost the force they had sent out to war, possibly more than two thirds of their manpower, along with three of Lord Vance's four sons. The fourth remained back in their castle with his father, a man of Hoster's age. With his house's strength smashed, I have no doubt Vance will be forced to bend the knee." After that brief summary Jason went on, going into detail as he turned his horse, moving with Ranma at the head of the army.

Ranma frowned throughout the telling, while around them the wolfsworn, Domeric and Rickard came up to join the discussion. Daenerys too came up, her hair covered with a hood for the moment though she continued to share a horse with Myrcella. As Jason started to wind down Jon pulled out a map, holding it out to Ranma without a word. He looked at it and his frown deepened. "House Vypren's land is down here westward of the battlefield correct?"

"Yes, their forces and a few thousand or so of the Lannister's own control that area now. House Lolliston has pulled back to its keep. They refuse to bend the knee, but they're not an offensive force at this point. House Shawney might become such in the future, but not right now."

"And Blanetree joined the defenders at the Ruby Ford?" Jason nodded in response and Ranma went on." Interesting, and the Lannisters haven't moved since? Do you know anything specific about what's going on over the Red Fork? And what about the Knightly Houses?"

"House Nayland declared for Renly for some reason." Jason said with a shrug indicating with that slight movement that he didn't understand what the young idiot was thinking. "House Grell and House Paige moved against them, but apparently there was quite a bit of 'internal dispute' in House Paige that had to be settled first." He detailed what happened there in even greater detail than the battle Patrek having talked to many of the house's survivors after his arrival in Fairmarket.

Ranma and the others all looked aghast at the idea of family killing family like that. Daenerys was also aghast at it, and spoke up for the first time in this discussion. "The Freys truly were a disease in the Riverlands. They should have been dealt with after they refused their Lord's call to war during the War of the Usurper."

Jason looked at the woman, with that figure she could only be a woman, holding the Princess who he recognized. He cocked an eyebrow having noticed the slight Essossi accent to her words. "Indeed miss, but by that point Lord Hoster was sick of war and he had the houses which actually sided with House Targaryen to reduce. It would have taken years to bring the Twins to heel conventionally and many lives, a price which Hoster was unwilling to pay. And how are you, your grace?" he asked looking at the princess. Ranma had informed him of how to treat the Princess and Jason was willing to go along with it. He honestly suspected she too would be a bastard, but was willing to treat her as the princess she'd been raised as until then.

"I am well my lord," Myrcella replied, bobbing her head to where she sat on the horse. "Though, a lot has changed since we saw one another during the Tourney of the Hand, the vast majority of it bad."

"That's good to hear and so very true." Jason sighed, before turning his attention back to the woman holding Myrcella in the saddle, her face hidden by a hood. "And may I ask are you who you are, miss?" He asked.

From where he was now walking once more, Ranma grimaced. This wasn't going to be pretty. But Ranma and Daenerys had talked about it and hiding her heritage for longer than they needed to wouldn't look good, especially not in this case. Daenerys slowly raised her to her hand to her hood, pulling it back revealing her face, violet eyes and silver hair as Ranma did the introductions. "Lord Jason Mallister, be known to Daenerys Targaryen, my wife and queen."

For a moment Jason's face showed open shock, before hardening as he turned burning eyes to Ranma. "What are you playing at boy?" he growled angrily reaching down to grasp Ranma by the front of his armor. Behind him the men from Seagard all shifted uneasily, the wolves moving towards them and around their horses, who shied away. "You know what her father did, you know what that cost my family! My brother Jeffory burnt to death with your grandfather and uncle! And now you bring her here?"

"I am in no way afflicted with my family's madness." Daenerys said calmly, moving her horse forward with Myrcella sliding off to one side so as to not be a part of this confrontation. "I am not my father, nor am I any of the other madmen my family has so often produced. Incest will do that to the best of families, or the worst."

Jason growled. It was only the fact that Daenerys was a woman that was keeping him from attacking her already, and then his eyes narrowed as he saw Sunfyre and Rhaegon following a third direwolf, coming up to join the others. "Yet you bring back dragons and none of your family has ever been slow in using them and their fire on anyone who opposed you! I can understand the force that they represent, I can even applaud the idea of allying with such a force intellectually. But I will not welcome you back, your father cost me my brother, that war cost my House many lives, and I can remember the stark horror of hearing how Jeffory died all too well!"

Inwardly Daenerys frowned a little, never having understood why the idea of dragonfire was so anathema to warriors who would use wildfire equipped catapults to kill their enemies or fire arrows on ships or tents or castles. The death meted out was still the same, possibly less agonizing from dragonfire which burned hotter and killed much more quickly because of it. She didn't say that aloud of course, instead bowing her head and moving her horse forward, closer to Jason's. "My family has much to pay for, for my father's reign and beyond. But at least I acknowledge the debt, and I'll go farther."

She moved even closer now, close enough for him to attack. "After hearing that your son had been sent to Fairmarket my husband and I had thought to have you remain here to defend Seagard against any Ironborn assault. But if you are so concerned about me and whether or not I am infected with the madness that gripped my father, become my advisor."

"What?" Jason said rearing back slightly but his eyes were now much more focused, the anger dissipating into surprise.

"Become my advisor." Daenerys said ignoring for the moment Ranma's look of amusement or Rickard's look of incredulity. "None of us have a very good handle on the houses or the power structure of the Riverlands, the intermarriages and alliances, well other than the most obvious and some of the weaknesses. The Blackwoods and Bracken's for example: their feud is well-known. But how does House Vypren's betrayal impact the other houses, will that make the houses on the other side of the Green Fork more or less likely to attack us, and how will my return be seen by the houses in the Riverlands, or even the smallfolk? You can give us this information, and you can watch me for signs of fire madness at the same time."

"I'll even go further. If you see even the first hint of such, I will not fight you or try to flee, and you may cut me down where you wish." Daenerys smiled, but there was no humor in it as her violet eyes met Jason's hawk-like gaze. "Honestly I doubt you'll ever see such. My older brother seems to have got both our portions of that particular trait of our line. Is that all right Ranma?" She asked now making a point of asking her husband's opinion. Well after the fact, but it was the thought that counted.

Ranma nodded watching Jason closely though there was still a small, amused smile on his face. He knew that Daenerys would win the older man over in time, and she had just trapped him into service to the two of them for a while.

Jason raised one hand head kneading his face for moment. To put it mildly he was unhappy about the return of the dragons and the Targaryens, since from her talk it seemed Viserys would make an appearance somewhere down the line too, though not with the northerners. But now that he had calmed down, the woman didn't seem to be bossing around Ranma or the other northerners, and Ranma had impressed him not only with his physical abilities but his mind when they had met in King's Landing. If he was willing to go along with it then Eddard was as well. And if the man who had gone to war because of his own father and brother's deaths at Aerys' command was willing to move past that, then he would do the same.

Like Eddard, Jason had never allowed his hatred of the individuals to spread to the family they were a part of, but he had taken a hard look at the history of the Targaryens. He had decided that madness ran it, that the people who hadn't fallen to it in some form were simply aberrations rather than the norm. Still, if she is willing to let me get close to her, to let me watch her for that and I have no reason to refuse.

After rubbing at his face for a moment he nodded slowly, looking at the regal young woman perched in her saddle as if it was a throne, staring at him with those powerful, violet eyes. "I'll agree to that. The Ironborn haven't shown any inclination to attack Seagard itself, and my defenses are ready for such in any event." Those defenses consisted of towers armed with ship-sinking scorpions or other ballistae, several galleys on constant patrol, a city watch that could be bolstered up to two thousand from the townsfolk of Seagard, as well as a thousand trained infantrymen from his house. The rest of his force he had sent into the Cape of Eagles.

"But I will be watching you your grace." Jason almost bit his lip as he said the last two words. They had simply slipped out, he hadn't meant to say them, but something about this girl, something about the way she sat there so poised and controlled, it was almost as if she was already crowned. He turned away deliberately looking at Ranma. "I would however first like to hear what exactly happened in King's Landing."

Ranma nodded, and filled him in on what had occurred to spark the battle of two truths. Here Myrcella made her presence known again, slipping into the saddle in front of Daenerys with the ease of weeks of practice. The news that her brother had admitted to having Tommen killed sparked outrage in Jason and his men, as it had every time she shared it.

The march continued as Jason joined the rest of the wolfsworn and Rickard at the front, discussing what their long-term goals and plans were. The minimum they wanted was the Lannisters pushed back, and at least Wayfarer's Rest built up to match the Golden Tooth, something that would take years. They wanted the Lannisters removed from power in King's Landing, how that could be accomplished was up in the air, but any way was good, and if they could, they wanted the Lannisters removed from power as Lord Paramount of the Westerlands. But if the war dragged on until the start of winter, Ranma and Daenerys would have to shift priorities.

"Will you ally with either of the Baratheon brothers?" Jason asked cocking his head.

He noticed with relief that Ranma didn't even glance at Daenerys as he shook his head. "No. Renly hasn't proven himself worth any kind of crown, and when this all began the coward and his friend Loras left my father to die in King's Landing." Jon and Arya both growled at that, a sound echoed by their direwolves even Ghost getting a taste of the anger that all three siblings felt.

"It was only luck and Ser Jory Cassel's sacrifice that allowed my father to survive. If Loras and Renly had stayed and fought with the fifty men, with Loras and Renly's friendships and some of the neutral houses we might've won the day and there wouldn't have been need for a war in the first place." Well, not with the Lannisters anyway. "As for Stannis, he seems to have made allies of a magical disposition that are not very honorable himself." Daenerys said from Ranma's other side.

Jason steeled himself and looked across at her, once again feeling a small flash of anger at her Targaryen features but her eyes were calm as she faced him. He made a small interrogative sound in his throat, and she took that as a cue to continue. She explained about the Shadow Warriors, and he looked askance at that before Ranma and Myrcella both spoke up in defense of her description, before going into how Stannis had wanted her captured well before any news of her being on that ship could've reached him through normal means.

Particularly damning was Ranma and Domeric both telling how Stannis had been acting as king not even a day after his brother died. That of course indicated he had news of that event well before he could've received it through normal means, and showed a remarkable level of coldness to his brother's passing. Despite Jason knowing the relationship between the two had never been cordial, he couldn't overlook that.

After taking it all in Jason looked at Ranma again, his eyes sharp. "So you're going for the Iron Throne yourself My Lord?"

Ranma shook his head. "The Iron Throne is dead. It was a symbol of power and cruelty, sort of the Targaryens way of saying 'Neener, neener, look what we could do to you'." He said smirking at Daenerys who flushed but laughed lightly before smacking his shoulder. "No, there needs to be a new symbol, one of unity of purpose rather than brute force. What that is I don't know yet. I don't particularly want to rule the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, but I certainly don't want any of the current batch of 'kings' ruling it either."

"And don't forget my brother." Daenerys said shaking her head. "I have no idea what his long-term plans were after we left, but he's still out there. And with his own dragon, she thought, once again feeling that pang of grief at having left the black colored egg behind. If only I had confided in Ranma right then! I know it would have made our escape from the city much tougher, but…

At the time fleeing had been the obvious thing to do, but in hindsight it was her lack of trust in Ranma and his own lack of information that allowed Viserys to continue to breath and with a dragon at his side. Yes, getting out of the city would have become far, far tougher if the magisters found out Ranma was there and could close the port against their escape, but it was a decision Daenerys would regret for the rest of her life.

"Oh, this just keeps getting better and better." Jason growled.

The army arrived at Seagard several hours later, and were quickly dispersed to the garrisons and as well as being put up in the keep. The previous Frey men who had now become workers would be housed at Seagard for now while they started on the project Ranma had envisioned the moment he heard about Bran's work on the White Knife.

Later that evening while waiting for Domeric and Alayaya to return from canvasing the town for information, Ranma filled Jason in on that, which caused the older man to look at him in shock. "A canal, a canal connecting the Green Fork to the ocean here." Ranma said, tapping the map Jason kept in his office right next to where Seagard was marked. "It'll be tough, and my master engineer will certainly need more men than we captured at the Twins, but they can make a start on it."

As the name suggested, much of the commerce and trade of the Riverlands revolved around use of its rivers, and Jason was no stranger to thinking in those terms. Looking at the map and thinking about what the canal represented, he knew that this plus the supply depot that Ranma had already described would enrich his family tremendously. The money that the Twins brought in for the former House Frey would possibly be doubled, adding to the money he already received from controlling a seaport.

Ranma went on to describe some of the works already accomplished up in the North and a few planned in the future. Most notable was the work on the Last River, which would allow House Umber to ship the coal that they could produce elsewhere in the North. Until the River froze at any rate, but Ranma knew Bran was already looking into solutions for that.

"We'll build a fort and stopping point where the canal intersects the river, and that will be crown lands, held by the Royal House. That will allow us to tax the trade directly from that point, though it won't be much, a few copper stars with each load. The trade itself will be so much that it doesn't have to be large."

"An amazing idea, if you can actually build it. Merely clearing a road to the Green Fork plus building a few barges there will allow me to send supplies further down few if need be."

"True, and I have some items I'd like to purchase here in Seagard that you'd have to send up to us. In bulk, to say the least. About a dozen well-crafted crossbows, and, the other's a bit more… esoteric. It's a kind of spear, with a soft iron head. I understand your house controls a small iron mine…"

The two men were interrupted by a knock on the door. Daenerys smiled there with Myrcella and young Vanessa, the painter with them. The young ex-Frey girl was looking a little bashful poking her toe at the stone of the floor beneath her while Myrcella and Daenerys were both smiling happily. "I thought you would like to see this." Daenerys said holding out a small bit of parchment to Ranma.

Jason and Ranma both looked at it and saw what looked like a charcoal sketch of Arya and Cley training together. It was amazingly good for what looked like a rapid job, and Ranma turned to Vanessa praising her for it and rubbing the top of her head affectionately. Jason took the image from him, looking on with amusement while Ranma sent Vanessa off to bed. "This is indeed amazingly good, and you she had other finished paintings?"

"Only one finished one, it was an image of a tree with forest folk faces here and there in the branches, a really remarkable work. I'll be leaving enough money here to pay for her tuition in the arts, I think Vanessa has a bright future ahead of her."

"Oh, you don't have to do that, I'm more than willing to take up the task of being her patron." Jason said hurriedly, thinking of how his wife would like a portrait, or that they needed a few tapestries on the walls in portions of the castle if Vanessa was as good at that as painting.

"It's not a bother." Ranma said shrugging his shoulders. "It's not as if that's a large chunk of the money we were able take from the Twins, not even a large portion of the money that I took as commander." That was only 5% of the total, a shocking departure from what was the norm but it was still a large amount. The rest had been split among the men (with a portion set aside for the rest of the army) or sent back further north to be used to fund projects there.

"I insist." Jason said looking down at sketch once more.

Daenerys laughed. "If the two of you can't agree to it, why not split the difference? That way you'll both profit later on by having been Vanessa's patron."

Ranma and Jason thought about it, then nodded seeing is that made sense. Moments after that, Domeric and Alayaya returned from the city. After Ranma explained what the two had been up to Jason passed over small glasses of wine, then asked them what they had discovered.

"Well for one thing, the merchants here are much more worried about the Ironborn than about 'the lordlings fighting one another for that blasted torture device they call a Throne'." Domeric laughed darkly, shaking his head. "I found a tavern where the merchants and ship captains congregate, and they are all worried about what the Ironborn could do. They're scared of putting out to sea now, but some are close to the point where they are running out of money, or their cargo is reaching the point where they need to set sail or risk it becoming ruined in the hold."

He looked at Jason and Ranma seriously. "I would recommend that you either purchase as much of those goods as you can, the foodstuffs at least, or pay for them to head up to Deepwood Motte soon. If you can be seen as favoring the common merchants, that might come in handy later on, particularly when we need to rely on their ships to bring in supplies, as we will at some point, I have no doubt. The rest is material we might be able to use as well, though I'll leave that to your discretion."

"How about a convoy system?" Ranma asked. At their looks, Ranma chuckled internally, remembering reading how the Americans had been forced to deal with German subs during WW2 in the only class he had much time for at Furinkan. "The merchants decide where they are going now, some port or other though with the Westerlands and the Ironborn at war with the Riverlands, I have no idea where that would be. Then they pay you to send some of your war galleys out with the group, then come back here after."

"The Reach and Dorne are within range of the ships here," Jason replied, nodding his head. "We can take some of their goods as payment here in fact, and given how some of it is foodstuffs that will spoil soon, we can get an excellent price for it, and then take a further percentage of their profit when they reach their destination. I'll summon them all up here tomorrow morning, that is an excellent idea Ser bard. Anything else?"

"Not much. The sailors and other people in the taverns I played in were thankful the army arrived, and seem to have taken the information about Joffrey's bastard origin as truth, though not Stannis' outlandish accusations, which I will share later on once I run them down myself." Domeric looked over at Myrcella, who looked at him her head on one side in query, but he did not mention what he had already heard about those accusations. The girl had been through enough without hearing that one of her possible uncles had accused her mother of incest, one of the highest crimes in the Faith of the Seven.

"Hatred for the Lannisters seems to be the watchword my lords." Alayaya cut in, also mindful of not relaying the rumors of Stannis' propaganda to Merry. "Everyone is enraged at Edmure's imprisonment, it seems he was rather well-liked by most of the smallfolk, outside of bards anyway. And the Lannisters are seen as the most dangerous house to the smallfolk, which given their history is understandable. They only have a few factors here, not actual agents but merchants that look to the Lannisters and pass on information."

At Jason's shock, she smiled impishly. "Men tend to forget that whores have ears my lord, it's one of the reasons why the Spider is so good at his job. I can speak to them all as an equal and get even more information out of them than he." She frowned. "Well, the adults anyway, I have never been able to talk to the child whores." She smiled then, standing from her chair to curtsy toward Jason. "A variety I was happy to see you don't allow in your city my lord."

"Hmmf, no need to thank me for that, lass." Jason scoffed, looking away for a moment somewhat embarrassed. "Just made good sense to me, and I doubt the Mother of the Father look upon such as that favorably. I take it you have dealt with them?"

"I took the liberty of passing their names on to your castellan my lord, yes. Other than that, there were a few known agents of the Spider, who I talked to, and convinced them not to share any further information." Alayaya smiled grimly. "Whores are loyal to themselves, one another and the mighty coin. I am a former sister of the trade, and was able to convince them that silence could earn them more coin much more safely than continued service to the Spider."

She looked at Ranma who smirked, nodding at her. He had given her some of his portion of the money taken from the Twins to do just that. He doubted that it would silence every way Varys could hear of their march, but he hoped to at least reach Fairmarket before that news could reach King's Landing, if not Tywin. "Is that all you two have to report?"

Both spy masters nodded, and after being thanked for their efforts, excused themselves. Soon after that everyone called it a night, and Ranma and Daenerys went off to their bed.

Myrcella had purposefully contrived to place her and Alayaya in the bedroom next-door, and it was with a sigh of relief that she learned that the noise's the two made could indeed come through stone. Once again she her hands traveled down her body, tingling with anticipation…

The army spent two days there, resting and recuperating and letting the men blow off some steam. The whorehouses of the town were quite busy, but there was no outbreak of violence or examples of the men acting out badly in public. The sergeants had their orders from Ranma and the other Lords, and all of them were afraid to be the first that Ranma would make an example of.

On the third day the army marched out, towards the Green Fork in a straight line out from Seagard to follow it down south before turning to make their way over lands to Fairmarket. Days later the workers made that own trek, laying out lines for the later construction to come, as the chief engineer went over the land, deciding how best to create the first Royal Canal.

OOOOOOO

Ranma's attempt to sucker all of Tywin's scouts and spies into following the main army on the other side of the Twins didn't work as he had expected, primarily because one of them wasn't a scout but a messenger sent secretly over the rivers towards the Twins. That messenger had been sent out at the same time as the raven to Old Walder ordering him to hold the North, but of course took far longer. First he had to get over the Blue Fork using a small coracle taken from House Vypren, then the Green Fork, which was not an easy trek.

Coming back down was much easier, but still it had been a long, nervous trek, the messenger not wishing any of the locals to see him either way until he was on Vypren land. By the time the messenger returned to the Kneeling Man's ford, nearly a month and a half had passed, and a lot had changed.

Where before the army's camp had taken up a bare two acres now it sprawled for more than ten, reflecting the size of the army here. Many of the tents previously used had been replaced by long wooden houses, there looked to be larger canvas tents here and there, a massive paddock holding meat animals next to another holding the horses, and, a must in any camp, organized areas for latrines well away from the cooking area or the water of the Red Fork.

Though that was nothing compared to the work done on the defenses on the ford itself. Two rows of ditches filled with stakes backed by a large rampart made of logs and rocks made up those defenses. Work was going on creating several catapults, and a large wooden tower sat well back from the defensive line. It would allow people standing on top of it to view any action at the ford itself while remaining well back out of danger.

The second muster of the Westerlands had indeed arrived, giving Tywin close to thirty-one thousand men excluding the forces surrounding Raventree Hall. Eighteen thousand men were stationed here alone, ready to become an offensive force once more, regardless of the defenses they had thrown up under Lord Selmon Stackspear. He had shown a remarkable ability in creating fieldworks and organizing the army's camp, and had been placed in charge of those areas by Tywin, who was already planning to reward the man for this. His work had kept the normal army issues with diseases down to a minimum.

Another seven thousand men were stationed in Stone Hedge as a reserve force. They would follow the first force when they went on the attack, leaving four thousand men to hold the lines here. Not enough to fully man them, but enough to hold until more men could be brought up from the rest of the army. That portion had been split into smaller packets of troops under various lords to invest Harrenhal, Darry and Harroway's Town. Enough men to hold each in turn against any army for long enough for aid to arrive.

The messenger gaped around him at the camp after giving the guards his password, but didn't have much time to take in the sights before he was ushered into his lord's presence. Tywin received the man back in his command tent, along with Daven and a few of his other lords.

All of them stared at the common born messenger after he finished speaking, but it was Tywin who spoke. "You say the Twins is 'just gone'? What do you mean by that? Where are the Freys?"

"As ter the Freys I don't know, but I spect they all be dead milord, they'd sorta have to be what with their castle bein' a ruin now. I don't know how, it didn't look nothin' like if it'd been done by fire or anything like that, 'twas almost, well some of the larger bits I saw from where I were hiding, they looked as if they'd been cut by something real sharp. Both sides of the Twins are gone, all save da guardhouses on either side of the bridge. The northern men t'were there on both sides housed in da guardhouses, so's I coulnd't get close, sorry milord. I think they must've been left there to protect ta place. Then I's came back, being real careful not to be seen by anyone no how."

"I wonder how you did that, Young Wolf?" Tywin murmured to himself turning away already forgetting the man's presence as he peered into the distance, thinking hard.

His nephew jerked his head towards the doorway and the messenger/scout hurried out while Daven looked back at his uncle. "You seem to be taking this well, I have to say, uncle."

"The Freys could've become a problem in the future. Old Walder was never a man to let anyone else's family matter to his own. Even if one of his sons is married to Genna, I was never very happy with how avaricious the family was as a whole. Often you have to crush the snake before it can strike, and the Freys swiftly were becoming such."

"So your offer to make him Lord Paramount was just a feint of some kind?"

"It was to motivate him to actually do something for a change rather than sit on the fence until it became time to divvy up the spoils." Tywin said coldly. "It seems to have worked, though he certainly hasn't bought us as much time as I had hoped."

And that is without the sheer speed of the Northerners to already be where my other spies are reporting them! I had thought we would have at least another month before they even arrived at the Twins, to hear that they are already past the Twins and in House Wayn's lands, is astonishing. Worse, it forces me to remain here in the Riverlands, regardless of what my agents in Duskendale have told me of Stannis' arrival. I will have to hope that the two stags will gore one another, damn it. Still, Serret will hold the capital if it can be held at all.

He turned to his nephew looking at him thoughtfully. "We have several scouts already over the river looking at the force coming down on the eastern side of the green fork, correct?" The younger man nodded and he went on. "We'll wait here then for them to return, I want to know the composition of that force, that may let us guess how they will act. Though I doubt the Young Wolf is with them, I have no doubt he is elsewhere by now."

"And where would that be uncle?"

"Seagard." Tywin said definitively. "That family is both powerful and loyal to the Tullys, Lord Mallister can no doubt give Ranma some up-to-date information. What force he has I have no idea, but that too we may learn by looking at the force he sent down the Kingsroad. Now…" he murmured, looking down at his map, which had been updated and improved since this campaign began. "If I was the Young Wolf, where would I try to assault me? Regardless, push a thousand more men across the ford to Vypren, I want that castle held so strongly, and so obviously, no one will wish to siege it." And if the Young Wolf uses whatever new siege weapon he used on the Twins there, I will at least have witnesses to question after regardless of its efficiency."

"Kinsman, I think you might be overestimating the Stark whelp." Stafford Lannister said. He had led the second muster here, and ostensibly was in charge of the House Lannister infantry, but in reality he simply relayed Tywin's orders. "The Twins must have fallen to infighting, that's the only explanation for their fall, the Northerners just got lucky, and the pup's youth will get the better of him soon enough."

"That's true milord," Lord Plumm said, watching his liege carefully. A decent tactician and lord, he wasn't a good strategist and knew it, leaving the long term plans to other people. "As good a warrior as he undoubtedly is, he's untried as a general, and as Ser Stafford said, young to boot. He won't think like you. The young think in grand charges and heroism, not real terms. Our army here will be a temptation he can't deny."

"You are underestimating him badly." Tywin said glancing at both men with a cold glare that shut them both up, inwardly scoffing at Stafford's attempt to seem closer to him than Stafford really was. It was obvious the man had seen how Tywin favored Damon, and was wishful to ride his cloak in order to get closer to Tywin. But that only worked one a foolish lord, and Tywin was anything but foolish.

With that taken care of Tywin went back to his musings. Where would I attack? For certain I wouldn't attack a prepared position like this, regardless of whatever siege weapon I used in the Twins. I might look to use it again elsewhere, but I wouldn't fight where my enemy was strongest. But what would my long term goals be? That I cannot guess at, but he is a Stark. For certain he will try to relieve Raventree Hall. Or could he try to lead a smaller force directly around my army and down south, trying to pull me after him? Regardless, he'll have to cross the Red Fork somewhere, and I might still be able to force him to come to me, but I can also attempt to retake the initiative before that.

After a moment he spoke aloud. "I want scouts out all along the Red Fork, in particular I want at least two dozen of our best men placed near Riverrun to watch for anything unusual. Other than that, Lord Marbrand, tell your son his plan is approved. Then get the army ready to march at a moment's notice…"

OOOOOOO

Victarion Greyjoy was a large man with a broad chest, heavy shoulders and lanky hair down to his shoulders which was flecked with gray. He wore plate armor in combat something unusual even among the Ironborn as well as a helm in the shape of an octopus, showing his faith in the Drowned God. As Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet he was an experienced and deadly naval tactician, though not a strategist by any means, nor one for deep thinking of any type.

And at the moment, his flagship the Iron Victory was the only longship from the Iron Fleet among his armada. To his mind the hundred and twenty ships that crowded around his flagship were a poor substitute. The Iron Fleet consisted of longships made larger by at least half again the length of a normal longship. This made them somewhat slower, but much more seaworthy, heavier and thus harder to sink with a larger crew and much more dangerous in a fight. Worse, it was a very rare longship outside the Iron Fleet that mounted any kind of scorpion, which every Iron Fleet ship had. Without those weapons they would have a hard time standing up against a Westeros galley.

Still, they were the tools he had been given for this assault. His king and brother had given command of this attack to him personally, and Victarion would carry it out. That was his purpose in life, to obey his king, that was all there was to it. His part of Rise of the Kraken was to take out the Shield Islands that had stood for so long protecting the rich and soft underbelly of the Reach.

It was a task worthy of Victarion's skills. The Shield Islands were a formidable naval power, normally around forty to fifty ships, all of them galleys. These were backed up by fortifications on the Islands themselves, but those can be circumvented so long as you weren't stupid enough to try to sail directly into their fire.

"Sir, the ten decoy ships are moving off."

Victarion turned to the man who spoke, his first mate, nodding grimly. " Good." In his mind he pictured what would be happening. The decoy group was made of ten longships, which had made a wide arc around the Shield Islands yet unlike the rest of Victarion's fleet close enough to still in sight from the nearest towers. Their course would take them towards the river Mander's mouth, which the Shield Islands were supposed to protect.

Those ten ships would draw out the Shield Islanders to defend the Mander. Where my ships will pounce on them, with the wind and wave against them, Victarion thought grimly. Encircle them on the open sea and wipe them out. The rest of his fleet had taken a much longer curve around the Islands to position themselves southwest of the islands. They would catch the ships from behind as they chased the decoys.

The sun was high was in the sky when Victarion's ships began their own turning toward land, heading towards where the Mander began. If the decoy ships had been able to stay away from their pursuers that was where he would pin them in place.

Something that most landlubbers didn't realize was how long ship maneuvers take, and how tough it was to truly move ships through large bodies of water in a controlled manner. But Victarion was a past master at it, and he smiled grimly as the Iron Victory hove into sight of at the twenty war galleys in the distance. Already a few of those galleys had spotted his own ship, and a few of them were turning away from their course, moving back towards him. After a moment they must've spotted the rest of his fleet coming on behind, and began to try to evade rather than seek battle.

It was too late however, his own was fleet had spread out too much for them to evade, and both the wind and wave were against their attempts to move away from the land. They were caught, trapped, with no chance of opening the range once his ships closed. Another turn of the glass later they with within range of the scorpions, and both sides began to fire.

The fire was even for now despite the galleys each carrying four scorpions apiece, against his fleet, wherein all of twelve ships carried scorpions, one each save for Iron Victory, which carried two at the prow. But whereas his own ships had been training extensively since he had taken command of them, the galley's scorpion crews seemed to entirely green crews. Most of their shots missed because of this but their scorpion bolts were heavier than those of his ships' and one shot was actually able to hole a longship at the far right of his formation.

The bolt slammed into the longship right at the waterline, and it went under quickly after that, the crew going to join the Drowned god as all Ironborn who died in battle on the sea did. As Victarion watched the longships on either side of the unlucky ship swarmed forward, coming alongside raking the war galley with arrows, as another ship closed, ramming into it near the bow.

Soon the rest of the Shield island ships began to turn in a battle force rather than one or two ships alone, and he nodded grim approval. Someone over there had obviously taken command somehow. Could the Reach navy have come up with signal flags like his people had? It didn't matter Victarion decided. They were too outnumbered in any event, and couldn't keep the range open to take advantage of their galley's greater long range weapons.

Turning Victarion bellowed commands to his first mate, ordering him to let up on the sail for a moment. The man did so with alacrity, knowing this did not imply any lack of courage in his captain, rather he wanted a little more time to pick out their target.

Victarion turned back and studied the battle as it continued, the other, much smaller longships speeding ahead of Iron Victory towards the galleys who were now moving as a unit, trying to keep the range open, but as he had predicted the wind and the tides were against them, and they didn't have the banks of rowmen who could have fought against nature's pull.

It took him a few moments, but eventually Victarion was able to pick out the one ship that seemed to be at the center of their formation. It flew a banner showing a shield of blue and white flowing lines around a center shield of tan dotted with black dots. He recognized it as belonging to House Hewett, and thought maybe it might even be commanded by that House's lord. "That one." he decided aloud, pointing at it with his heavy battle axe. "Aim us for that one, and take us in."

His crew responded with a roar, and they once again went to full sail with two dozen rowers helping the ship along, in fits and starts, throwing off the aim of their opponents, their bolts landing before and to either side of the Iron Victory, sinking into the water. At the forefront the men manning the scorpions waited calmly, waited until the one on the starboard side was within killing range then fired, not at the target ship but at the nearest ship to its starboard side. Several bolts more came back at them from other war galleys along the Shield Islander's makeshift line, but none struck home. Unlike their own blow which took their target right at the water line as the unfortunate long ship had been at the outset of the battle.

That ship immediately began to list sinking at the bow, and Iron Victory came alongside. Ropes immediately went across, yanking the two ships together with a crunch of tortured wood while archers peppered the other ship's deck, breaking the small shield line they had set up to repel boarders between the heavy scorpions that lined its deck on either side.

Victarion roared, leaping over the gunwales up onto the slightly taller war galley, his axe, a heavy single bladed weapon in one hand and a large shield in his other. "We do not sow! Feed them to the Drowned God!"

His crew responded with another roar as they raced across after him, but he had already cut down two Reach armsmen, slamming into another with his shield so hard that the man actually left his feet for a moment. Unable to regain his footing on the heaving deck Victarion finished him with a downward stroke his axe. Two more men came at him, but by that point his own were across and the battle had become a melee across the entire length of the large warship.

With the command ship out of the action, the rest of the Shield Islands fleet wasn't fighting as a coordinated unit any longer but then again neither were the Ironborn. Unlike the Iron Fleet, which Victarion had trained extensively to act and respond as a unit, these ships had been pulled from every House and clan from both Wyks, some from Pyke and even a dozen from House Harlaw. But the outcome of the battle wasn't truly in doubt.

Lord Hewett stared around him, standing in the back of the ship staring out over the destruction of his House's naval strength as well as that of many ships of his allies among the Shield Islands. This wasn't all of the Shield Island's strength, but it was at least half, and judging by the number of ships now circling his own like so many sharks around whales, this was a full attack, not a raid as he had first thought.

Those were the last thoughts he had had time for as the melee finally reached him. He turned, raising his blade as a giant of a man wielding an axe with a horrifying sea creature helmet pushed towards him at the head of a dozen other reavers.

OOOOOOO

The advantages of maneuverability numbers and the position of their fleet had proven decisive to secure an Ironborn victory. Of the twenty ships said Lord Hewett had led out against what he thought was a mere ten longship reading force sixteen had been sunk and fired outright, with four captured and their crews put to death, not one of them being worth ransoming.

Of the hundred plus ships under Victarion's command he had lost an even eighteen to his enemy's scorpions before his longships could close. The decoy vessels had also lost five ships, but all of them had been undermanned so their loss mattered less than the others. A further three ships from his main fleet had been damaged, and two of them had to be scuppered entirely due to fire damage and the loss of nearly their full crews. A group of four galleys had tied themselves together when those two ships crews had boarded one other numbers, wiping them out before more longships could come to their fellow's aid.

The fact that it had taken so long to do so was because those two ships belonged to House Goodbrother of Corpse Lake and the nearest ships all belonged to House Myre. The two houses had a long term, low-key feud, not unusual in the Iron Islands, but this one had been exacerbated a few years ago when the Goodbrother's raided a House Myre port, stealing away a dozen trained shipwrights and a lot of shipbuilding materials. Pinchface Myre and his Lord uncle had decided to let the chaos of battle take their vengeance for them.

This infuriated Victarion. Such petty rivalries had no place in wartime. Therefore he had personally executed the first mate of each of those ships, and flogged every captain save Lord Myre. They had all protested of course and tried to rally support from the other families from Harlaw, but when the Harlaws themselves wouldn't back them, that fell through. Then when Victarion offered to match any champion they choose from among their House's men, but if he won he would execute the captains instead, they had backed off, taking their punishment with ill grace but with no further issues.

Soon after that, his fleet was underway again turning back towards the ocean and away from the shore of the Reach, making for the Shield Islands themselves. His mission was to take those islands, not raid the coastline of the Reach, and Victarion would do so.

A day later his fleet came within sight of the Shield Islands at high noon. Victarion wanted it that way, he wanted the defenders of those islands to see his fleet coming, and know that their ships had lost. That would demoralize them, and make their conquest easier. Plus the watch fires warning the Reach of their presence were useless at this point, the Reach wasn't his objective, those Islands were.

What he got instead however was twenty more galleys coming out from within a port on the southernmost island of the Shield Islands, Southshield he thought it was called. He cursed angrily, having thought that the ships he had destroyed already had been the totality of the Shield Islands strength. After a moment spent counting however he nodded grimly. "They played it safer than I expected them to, but they still don't have enough ships over there to stop us."

"It'll just make the plunder all the sweeter my Lord." said his first mate. "We'll be taking many a salt wife and treasure after this!"

"Signal the fleet to spread out, I want Harras Harlaw and his command to take the point nearest South Shield as we sail ahead." Harras was an aggressive commander, and an excellent swordsman. Victarion had no doubt that he would take every advantage he could to try and get past the war galleys to start attacking the port. That might well split the defenders' attentions, or simply soften them up for the rest of the fleet after the defending war galleys were sent to the bottom of the Sunset Sea.

With Iron Victory in the lead his fleet sailed towards the galleys, and Victarion gritted his teeth angrily as they entered scorpion range. Those galleys began to riddle his ships with fire, not being as surprised, or inexperienced as the flotilla the Ironborn had already wiped out, and with open waters and the wind aiding them they were able to keep that range open for far longer. They even moved away from their home ports, to do so, drawing his fleet away in turn. This was not only because Victarion didn't want to let them try and circle his fleet and pin it between the islands and their fire, but because his captains were too aggressive to let them 'escape'.

Victarion lost at least three dozen ships to their fire before any of his ships could close, and they kept on backing away in groups! Every group of four ships worked together moving as one with a degree of coordination that was astonishing to watch, beyond anything even the Iron Fleet could do.

The fleet he was leading now was not the Iron Fleet. Ships got in one another's way, dozens of ships tried to attacked the same group of war galleys, allowing others to fire at them with impunity. Worse, once the battle became more general the ships of each house looked to their own devices rather than to aid one another despite the example he had set after the last clash.

The fourteen ships around Iron Victory however stayed with him, and he nodded grimly as his ship made for a group of four galleys at the center of the galley armada. It was common practice to put the commander in the center after all. As they closed his scorpion gunners exchanged fire with the war galleys, but it was clear that he did not have an edge there in this battle.

He lost seven ships as he closed, but finally they were close enough, and he ordered all hands to oars. The ship he was targeting tried to evade, but with its fellows all around them, was unable to. The heavy iron ram of his flagship took it just abaft the prow of the ship.

Almost immediately forty or so men charged across throwing over their own boarding ramp, trying to keep the Ironborn on their own ship. Victarion cut down three of them as he led his crew to smash into them, throwing them back, then trying to break a small shield line that had formed.

He ducked down underneath one sword blow to hack at the man's leg right underneath the shield he was carrying. That man screamed as he collapsed while Victarion jumped over his body, hacking away to either side with his ace to enlarge the gap. His helmet rang as a sword blow landed, cutting off two of the kraken's tentacles with a "Whang!" sound.

The bloat didn't stagger Victarion however, and he turned quickly bringing over his axe to hack at the man who had struck him. The man was young, wearing only boiled leather armor as most sailors of other realms did fearing the water that was their domain, a fact that always made him smirk in contempt. But he wielded his sword with proficiency, holding Victarion off for a few moments before he stumbled on the blood of the deck. This opened his body up for a blow from Victarion's axe which nearly carved him in two.

Elsewhere in the naval battle a group of four galleys had been able to keep their distance while the rest were now snarled up by the longships, several of them having three or more longships grappling with them at close range. Those four however were taking a deadly toll, sinking ship after ship as they ranged around the battle, taking a single ship under fire from all of their scorpions along one side or another. That ended when Harras, instead of moving around the contested area of the ocean to attack the port of Southshield had circled around behind those ships. They couldn't turn fast enough and the fifteen House Harlaw ships under his command closed to close range too quickly, raking them with arrows before throwing their lines across boarding to slaughter the remaining crew.

Victarion grimaced as a spear found his side, skittering across the plate armor there leaving a dent and a bruise he would be feeling for weeks. He took that spearman's life however with a broad stroke of his axe but had to quickly turn again to bring up his shield to block another sword thrust which almost cut into his shoulder.

He backed away, exchanging blows with a man who was wearing slightly better armor than the rest, his eyes hard over a blood streaked face. His nose was broken, possibly form a punch, his helmet missing and his graybeard flecked with blood.

Ser Talbert was the heir of House Serry of Southshield, and he had been the one to lead this fleet out to battle the Ironborn, having feared the worst had occurred to the other half of the Shield Island fleet when it hadn't returned quickly. That fear had been amply proven when the longships came within sight of Southshield, and he had led the fleet out determined to wreak a bloody vengeance on them. Talbert had underestimated the Ironborn numbers however, or how determined they would be to close the distance with his better armed war galleys. Now he knew that the battle might well be lost, but if he could slay their commander he might be able to rally the rest of his forces.

That wouldn't have actually worked. The Ironborn didn't have that much organization in the first place, and while Victarion was important as their Lord Captain and as a Greyjoy, none of the ship captains would have felt demoralized by his death save those closest allied to his family like Harlaw and those from Pyke itself.

The two men exchanged blow after blow, their shields slowly becoming useless, their armor dented, cuts and rips here and there leaking blood out on the deck below them. They kept on trying to hack at one another's bodies, trying to get in a killing blow but always their opponent moved just enough to avoid them. It was a classic example of strength and endurance against speed and skill.

Suddenly Talbert saw an opening, a pattern in how his enemy blocked. Immediately Talbert feinted, a slash-up towards his opponent's upper body and Victarion raised his axe to block, but Talbert's blade instead flashed down chopping into Victarion's left leg, nearly crippling him with that below.

Before Talbert could pull his blade back, Victarion's hand came down grasping his own like a vice. His superior strength held the Serry heir there. Talbert looked up at his opponent, his eyes flashing with fury even as the realization of his death filled him.

Victarion took a brief moment and nodded his head at the other man in respect for his courage and skill. Then his axe came down, the blade of it burying in the other man's head with a sound like a melon being split. With a wrench he pulled his axe out again, looking around but the fight seemed to have gone out of the crew of the war galley. Dozens of men were now retreating onto the deck of another galley that had pulled up alongside this one to send its own man across to help against the borders.

His own men however took heart at his victory, and began to press them back even harder. "Feed them to the Drowned God!"

OOOOOOO

In the end that battle cost Victarion's fleet nearly two-thirds of its remaining ships. He was down to a bare forty ships total but all of them were packed to the brim with Ironborn taken from other ships, and the way to the Shield Islands was open. As one of his crew tried to stitch his leg wound closed Victarion gave command of the assault on South Shields to captain Harras, whose daring action might well have saved the day though Victarion would never admit that. By the end of the day, Southshield had fallen, and the Ironborn fleet moved on to the other Shield Islands, opening the way to the Mander and the rich underbelly of the Reach.

OOOOOOO

Elsewhere however, the Rise of the Kraken didn't go so well.

Alyn of House Orkwood had led 75 ships of his House, Blacktyde and Goodbrother against Lannisport. However, unlike the Shield Islands or the Reach in general the Lannisters had anticipated that the Ironborn would return to their raiding ways. The port was well supplied with catapults, scorpions and other anti-ship weapons, and Kevan Lannister as master of the Rock had ordered the port authorities to set several ships on patrol to warn of any incoming attack. They were out there even at night, with watchers on the port Towers set to watching the fires on them. If they went out, or if they suddenly grew an alarm would be raised immediately.

Despite this however, the actual attack almost did come as a surprise. Alyn led his ships in during a nighttime storm, taking out those ships at a time when the fires were already flickering from the wind and rain despite the canvas set up above them. This gained him some time, but the wind of the storm made his approach slower than it should've been, and this gave the defenders time to spot them in the darkness regardless. Warning fires were lit all around, and the alarm was raised.

Alyn however was an Ironborn captain of the old school, who believed that numbers, speed and shock value could overcome any opponent. Even with the port warned of his coming he still raced on, and most of the ships of his fleet followed him.

Nine House Blacktyde ships were the only exception. Lord Baelor Blacktyde had made no bones about not being in favor of going to war with the rest of Westeros before this began, only agreeing to have his house take part when Balon warned that not doing so would force Balon to inform the Drowned Men that he followed the Faith of the Seven. The Faith was derided in the Iron Islands, and any such hint would have been enough for the members of his own House to remove him in a permanent fashion.

Now not wishing to face a prepared opponent Baelor took the opportunity presented to him to pull his ships back. Some of his House's ships did the same thing, having agreed with him about the idiocy of this war, but many did not, following their fellows into the port. If the attack had succeeded, he would have faced several hard questions, and would probably not have survived the questions given how the Ironborn viewed 'cowards' let alone ones with secrets such as Baelor's, but as it was, that would not be an issue.

The attackers came under fire immediately from catapults and scorpions from the towers built to either side of the port's entrance. Those ships turned and began to close with the towers, many of them being sunk before they got close enough for their archers to fire up at the towers as grapnels began to be thrown up as well. The catapults and other ballistae however continued to fire on the more distant ships, letting the other defenders handle the closer threat.

Those ships in the direct center of the natural bay's entrance were out of their range however, and they forged ahead heading for the docks. There they came under even more fire, the city watch having pulled up ballistae alongside the wharfs firing at the ships as they came.

There the city watch, much better led and armed than the city watch of King's Landing prepared to receive them. The Ironborn longships slammed into the wharf and the Ironborn jumped over the gunwales of their ships, landing on the port and charging forward to clash with the prepared defenders. Arrows flew from both sides, men went down screaming, and the fires that had been lit to light the battlefield gave everything a hellish appearance as the two sides clashed.

The defenders had numbers and the number of weapons and their own ground on their side, while the attackers had shock value and could bring more power to anyone point along the waterfront. Experience was equal, since one side had experience but the other had better training and organization. That first few moments the battle could have gone to the Ironborn as they slammed into the defender's battle line, the shock of real battle might have broken the defenders. But it didn't, the inexperienced city watch having been bolstered by armsmen from House Lannister.

Kevan Lannister had come to the port to go over the defenses himself, bringing with him half the garrison of the Rock, which had been upgraded to four thousand men since his brother had taken their initial muster into the Riverlands. He was going to leave two thousand of them here in the ports in any event to serve to back up the city watch further, and had immediately taken command of the city's defenses the moment the alarm was sounded. He split up his force, a thousand set up with the city watch in fifty man packets to bolster their line along the wharf front. This served to hold the line in the initial clash, and now training was doing the rest.

The remaining thousand served as his reserve in hundred man lots. He sent them in wherever the Ironborn threatened to break through the defenders into the city proper. After a half turn of the glass Kevan led some of the reserve himself in one such charge. He slew several, his sword work better than any of theirs before he had to duck under one blow from wickedly barbed broadsword that would have taken his head off.

Kevan was forced to jump forward into a roll as the man tried to bring his swords pommel down on his head. The Ironborn warrior had at least a head of height on him, and several inches more in the shoulders, that blow would possibly have brained him regardless of his helmet. Realizing quickly his roll had brought him too far forward of his men, Kevan lashed out before he even stood up, his blade cutting a Ironborn's leg out from under him. Once upright, Kevan backed away quickly, his blade and shield working to keep his enemies at bay.

The Ironborn with the barbed broadsword charged at him with a roar, his blade flashing out in a lunge that would have gutted Kevan if it hit. Kevan desperately dodged to one side avoiding it, his shield taking the blow instead. The blade slammed into and through his shield getting stuck there for just a moment, the barbs on the blade now working against its owner. Kevan quickly capitalized, bringing up his longsword into the Ironborn's side, chopping through his chain mail.

A mace blow slammed into Kevan's back, sending him sprawling, but the blow didn't have enough force to break his back plate, only denting it severely. By this point his men had surged through the melee to his position, pushing the Ironborn away from him. One of them leaned down to help their commander to his feet as the others pushed forward, holding the line there until the defenders were able to reclaim it.

Kevan allowed the man who had helped him up to lead him slightly away from the battle, around the side of one of the warehouses that made up this side of the wharves. Once away from the main battle, Kevan pulled off his helm to wipe the sweat from his brow. 'Damn Ironborn fight like demons, the bastards."

He took a glance around the side of the wharf, trying to make out as much of the battle, which wasn't much despite the fires burning in the towers and in places along the wharf. In one part of his mind Kevan knew those fires would no doubt get out of control soon regardless of the rain still coming down. But for now they were a necessary evil, letting his archers and catapult crews see their targets in the dark of night, the storm clouds having blocked the light of the moon.

After a moment spent squinting his eyes to see through the fires and shadows, Kevan grabbed a runner one of the young boys he had been using since the fight began to relay orders back and forth. "Head to the southwest tower, signal the fleet to come in and close off their retreat."

That had been his own addition to the defense of the city. Instead of leaving his family's small navy in the port he had ordered them out on maneuvers, and to dock outside the port itself in a small bay nearby. Barely big enough for them all, it was still able to hide them from anyone in entering the port itself thanks to being hidden partially by high crags and its small entrance. They kept a single watchman on the highest crag to watch for signal fires, but he was the only one visible even during the day from the ocean or the north.

Now those ships would spell the death knell of this attack and if Kevan had his way every Ironborn reaver out there. Kevan had not forgotten the way the Ironborn had burned out Lannisport during their first rebellion sixteen years ago, and was more than willing to pay them back in like coin. And Kevan had found himself thinking remarkably bloodthirsty thoughts since the death of his son Lancel had gotten back to him.

The runner nodded and raced off through the fire lit gloom of the battlefield, while Kevan turned back to business.

The fight was slowly going against the defenders, with more and more Ironborn ships getting clear of the defensive towers near the entrance to the port, but then the ships of the Lannisters arrived closing in behind them, their scorpions firing at the Ironborn ships yet to reach the port. With them snarling up the sea of the port forcing the Ironborn to deal with them rather than land more troops, Kevan and the city watch were able to sweep the wharfs clear of Ironborn then take the ships that had landed.

Despite being mostly green, the number of weapons on the galleys proved to be a enough of a force multiplier that the Lannister fleet and defenders were able to win the day. In the end they took over a hundred captives, all of whom were put to death quickly, and not a single ship escaped. The military strength of the island of Orkmont was wiped out that day and House Goodbrother and House Blacktyde took further losses, losses they would need decades to recover from. This would have long reaching consequences not only for those islands, but the rest of the Iron Islands, though it would be several months before those reverberations were felt.

The only survivors were those House Blacktyde ships under Baelor. Having pulled back at the onset of the battle Baelor had gotten clear. Only two ships of the incoming galley's fleet saw them before they were too far away to be seen in the nighttime storm. Those two war galleys went after them, but were lost with all hands.

Back in Lannisport as dawn broke Kevan stood on the shoreline, staring out over the still burning wrecks of the Ironborn ships, more than a dozen merchant vessels, several of his family's own ships that had been hulled or sunk through various means, and the dozen or so Ironborn vessels that had been taken intact. That was a sign of the material cost, the cost in people was much worse.

The city watch had been decimated, and the crews of many of the merchant vessels had died trying to protect them, as had a little under half of his house's armsmen that he had arrived with. The city could make good those losses, but slowly. And the damage to the port itself, the clogging of the wharf front, would mean weeks of hard work to get it back in working order.

Kevan's face was set in grim lines as he continued staring out at the wreckage of the battle, not even turning his head to address the men around him. "Send for a horse and messenger, we'll have to send a message about this to my brother, and I may have a suggestion on how to respond…"

OOOOOOO

Balon Greyjoy was a gaunt elderly man of Tywin's generation. He had a hard face set with dark black eyes and framed by long gray hair flecked with white that hang down past the small of his back, lips a thin, bitter line in his pock-marked face. Bitterness and resentment, coupled with a desire to turn back time to a period where the Old Way ruled all, dominated Balon and had for decades.

He had never truly accepted Westeros defeat of his rebellion, seeing it merely as a setback, not a true defeat and rather being contemptuous of Robert's having allowed him to live and never really grinding the islands under as Balon would have done in his place. He resented the North for taking his son and no doubt turning him into just another weak greenlander. He had never forgiven Stannis for the destruction of the first Iron Fleet, which had spelled the death knell of Balon's first rebellion. And he bitterly resented the Redwyne fleet for aiding the Shield Islands in repelling the Ironborn's first attempt to take them during his rebellion.

Most thought the tide had truly turned against the Ironborn's bid for freedom later on, after the Redwyne navy and the Royal navy defeated Victarion at the Battle of Fair Isle. But it was the loss of momentum from their defeat at the Shield Islands that truly began to turn the tide against them. Before that, the Ironborn had truly become the reavers of old, feared and fearless, sweeping all before them. After that, their aura of invincibility was gone.

Or So Balon thought, and it was that wrong that Balon was personally avenging now, while at the same time destroying the largest of his opponents on this side of Westeros. He stood alongside the steersman on the Great Kraken, his flagship, a tankard of ale in one hand and the moon in the sky above him shining down. Slightly larger than even the Iron Victory, her bow was ornamented with a great iron ram in the shape of a kraken. It also had two scorpions set on a diagonal of the prow on either side of the ship, and another right behind where Balon was standing now pointing back down the ship's course. All around The Great Kraken the ships of the Iron Fleet, which he had taken command of personally, moved through the nighttime waters like the incredibly dangerous predators they were, along with twenty other ships pulled from various minor houses to add to the weight of this attack in a very special way.

The Redwyne navy was in many ways the most dangerous of the Ironborn's opponents, which was one of two reasons Balon was leading this assault and doing so with the Iron Fleet. It would take more than two months for the Royal Navy to round the Straits of Dorne to assail them, if they could at all given what rumors said the feelings of Dorne were for the bastard girl's execution, which removed Stone face Stannis from consideration. The Lannister fleet, while having decent ships, didn't have the numbers to be an offensive force, nor the training.

The Redwyne navy was the third-largest fleet that operated in the seas around Westeros, even larger even than the fleet Balon was currently commanding, and was a veteran force with excellent leaders. In a straight up fight Balon knew that he might lose despite a single reaver of the Old Way being worth a dozen Westeros pussies. But he had no intention of fighting a straight up battle. That was why his fleet was moving so slowly right now.

They had come out of the Sunset Sea west of the Arbor, and now were sailing back and forth waiting an appropriate length of time for the first wave of the attack to go in. That attack was going to be accomplished through use of several captured merchant galleys that his house had taken command of once war had been declared. That had allowed them to keep word about their mustering from reaching the mainland, and had given him the ships needed for this attack. All of those ships were packed with hay, strong spirits and other flammables, and crewed by men his brother Aeron Damphair had chosen for this task.

Drowning was a central part of the Ironborn's worship of He Who Dwells Beneath the Waves. Newborn were regularly given to the ocean, dunked in salt water. Drowned Men, the priests of the Ironborn faith, were drowned in truth, then resurrected, really resuscitated, and there were men among the faithful who had gone through the same ritual but did not become priests. Normally when a man was resurrected he would continue his life as normal.

These men, men guilty of cowardice, had been ritually drowned, sanctified to the Drowned God, before being revived, and had been… changed in the doing. Where before they had been mortal, and had mortal fears and desires, now they lived only to carry out their orders and regain their honor before dying for the glory of the Drowned God.

Aeron and his fellow Drowned Men had never shown any sign of these powers before and it had come as a shock to Balon, but it had renewed his faith in the Drowned God and indeed the faith of all of those men who among his captains who saw them. Aeron had confided in his brother that the power of the god was growing to a level he had never heard of, and that this new ability to strip men of their base fears and survival instincts was a sign of that. Neither man understood that it was simply a sign of magic returning to the world, not something attributable only to their own religion. Instead they both saw it as a sign that it was time to rise up and show the world that the Old Way was alive and well, and that the Ironborn were a power again.

Turning his head, Balon looked over at his Aeron. He was kneeling in a circle with his fellow Drowned men, fifteen of them. Originally they had all been kneeling in a circle around a wide, flat bowl filled with saltwater, but now Aeron was the only one upright. Balon took a moment to look at the bowl, which despite being nearly flat looked extremely deep for some reason, like Balon could reach inside and not touch the bottom of it despite knowing that he should only have barely been able to get his knuckles wet.

The Drowned Men had been practicing something Aeron called 'Reading the waves'. From what Balon understood, the bowl was supposed to represent, or became or something like that, the ocean, and the Drowned Men sent their minds into it, feeling out what was happening in the ocean beyond the sight of normal men, an amazing gift from their god. It was exhausting however, the distance and time spent doing it draining the men as if their endurance was pouring out like in a battle, and could kill someone who looked too far or too long, something Balon found fitting. It was simply another way to pay the Iron Price, even if the plunder gained was information.

For now, Balon had more worldly things to think about than the power of his religion. "Well? Be the fire ships in position yet?"

"The ones we be feelin' from here by the time the fleet's in position, aye." The younger Greyjoy answered, coming out of his trance and looking around at his weaker brethren coolly, before pulling at his hair, which looked drenched despite his not having wet it with salt water since he sat down to this task. "You know we can't ride the waves far enough ta feel the ships going around the weak Seven-worshipping fools Island. Still, I be thinkin' its time ta go brother. Time for the kraken to rise and take its due, time for the Iron Price to be paid."

Balon looked up at the sky, judging their position by the stars above and nodded. He turned to his signal men, who raced to their places signaling the rest of the fleet to turn their courses once more towards the Arbor, the home of House Redwyne.

OOOOOOO

Four fire-ships had been designated for each port along the large island's circumference. Their job was to get in close and then fire their ships, taking as many other ships with them as they could. Most of these attacks worked to the terrible cost of House Redwyne. Not a single defender realized what was going on until those ships docked. At which point the penitents, the name the Drowned Men had given to these men when they revealed there powers, went into action. They fired the ships, then went up onto the wharf and tossed lit bundles of strong spirits onto the nearest ships or at anything that looked remotely flammable.

Fire was one of the deadliest weapons of war at this point in history. That was one reason why wildfire was such a terrible weapon, why three dragons had allowed the Targaryen siblings to conquer Westeros so many centuries ago, what allowed Valyria to become the power it became. And ships and docks were even more susceptible to it than the rest of the city. Tar, pitch, dry ropes, dried and resin covered woods, all of them made up ships and were in abundance in any dock all over the world, and all were incredibly flammable.

Those fires quickly spread, so fast and so sudden that in many of the ports so attacked it took the people time to realize it had even been deliberate, let alone organize to fight the fires. Dozens of ships burned to the water line and hundreds of sailors and dock hands died or were burned so much as to be useless in every port alone the western side of the Arbor. This cost the Redwyne Navy not only ships but coordination, as the ports didn't realize that all the other ports are being attacked in similar manner, the local lords and commanders trying desperately to get the fires under control rather than spend precious moments communicating with their fellows.

However Vinetown, the largest port of the Arbor was on the far side from the attackers. They had received warning overland from the first town to be attacked like that, Starfish Harbor. This and Paxter Redwyne's quick response allowed his navy to be alert to a similar attack. Naval cutters went out to every ship coming into the port regardless of what they looked like, and when one group of naval inspectors didn't return, their parent ships knew they had found the fire-ships attacking the city.

Stopping those ships before they could close with the wharfs still cost the fleet three ships, but their crews were saved and added to the fifty other ships of the Redwyne Navy housed in that port.

Paxter scowled looking at the burning wreckage of three of his family's ships, which had physically blocked the ships that carried such deadly cargo. He had just finished listening to a report from the men who had fought against those ships, and the men on them, and was simply incredulous at what he had learned. "Madness." he muttered, shaking his head. "Utter madness. What kind of maggot destroyed those man's brains for them to willingly sacrifice themselves like that? Even fanatics wouldn't want to die in fire like that or drown as some of them did."

"I don't know my. Lord" said the captain of the Arbor Queen, his flagship. The man was a second son from the green-apple Fossoways, and his normally warm expression was grim as he looked at the sight of the burning wrecks. "But if it was both here and Starfish Bay, so it wasn't isolated incident."

"No, it wasn't." Paxter replied, nodding at the other man. "Get the fleet under way Captain. I will want four converts to turn northwards and head for the other bay of the Arbor. If they haven't come under this kind of attack they are to be warned, and their ships gathered together. The rest of us will start southward and pick up ships along the way. This attack started near Starfish, and it's reasonable to expect that a follow-up attack will come from that same direction."

Paxter's prediction was proven correct as they rounded the island a day later. There in front of them a battle was going on, with a few remaining defenders of Starfish Bay defending against a numerically superior opponent. "Ironborn!" Paxter spat to one side, looking much more like a common born sailor just then than the Lord of one of the most powerful Houses of the Reach.

With him Paxter had ninety ships. Unlike the dedicated warships of the Shield Islands however, the Redwyne Navy also served in peacetime as a trading fleet, and so many of those ships were not built nearly as heavily, nor as heavily armed. But these were armed with scorpions in the main and their crews, if not true warriors, were all highly experienced sailors and skilled in using them .

Against them the Iron Fleet had 120 ships, not having lost any yet to the defenders of the port, nor having come under attack from any of the other ports just yet. The fire ships had gutted several of those ports outright, while in others they had simply disorganized and wounded the defenders, forcing them to remain home. So though he and Balon didn't know it, Paxter's fleet was the only formed defense of the large island at present.

Even if they had however, neither admiral would have changed their orders for this battle. Both fleets made for one another, with the 20 or so Ironborn ships that weren't of the Iron Fleet racing ahead, and the rest sticking to a disciplined mass coming straight at the Redwyne Navy. Balon didn't care about that, but the organization instilled in them by his brother stuck for now.

The Redwyne Navy's own lack of organization and discipline showed, with several of the converted merchant vessels falling back allowing their larger warship companions to forge ahead, breaking their line of battle a little. But Paxter was a canny man, and he ordered his fleet to keep the range open to allow his scorpions to pummel the enemy. In this manner they were able to send fifteen ships to the bottom before the rest of the Iron Fleet got within its own range and began to fire back, the bolts of both fleets 'Fwipping' through the air, most missing, but many hitting, doing horrendous damage to the ships they slammed into.

The quality of their respective ships was soon apparent. A warship was extremely hard to sink with any shot that didn't hit directly at the water line, and even there the Reach vessels were armed to take at least one shot and keep going. Merchant vessels, whalers and wine cogs however were not so well-armed. Paxter lost several ships in that first opening salvo, and that's attrition rate continued as the Iron Fleet closed, but more of their ships began to go down as well.

Paxter stood on the Arbor Queen's aft-castle gazing at the battle through a spyglass, his eyes narrowed. "Order the converted ships to fall back save the wine cogs. Warships are to keep the range close with the Iron Fleet, our fellows will bombard them from a distance, while the wine cogs attempt to do to them what their fire ships did to us."

The signals went out using various colored flags hung from the tallest mast of his flagship. The fleet slowly reformed along the lines he had set out, too late for some of the support vessels, another ten of which had gone down with all hands under the pummeling of the Iron Fleets scorpions and archers. Several small tangles of combat had occurred as well when ships of opposing sides crashed into one another, with the larger heavier longships able to take the punishment of being rammed by a warship or vice versa and still remain floating. The last few non-Iron Fleet ships sank at this point of the battle, leaving the sea to their heavier fellows.

A few wine cogs got close enough to a few Ironborn longships before their crews, the smallest needed to sail their cogs, lit their cargo on fire before abandoning ship. This cost the Ironborn seven, possibly nine ships before the opposing captains realized the small wine cogs represented a real threat, and began to target them especially at range, not allowing any more to close.

Paxter ordered his captain to keep the flagship to the rear of the ongoing battle, the better to keep control of the overall battle. This served his side well for the next few hours until a force of five Iron Fleet ships made their way around the main battle. Two of them rammed two of the nearby warships, opening the way for the other three to sail through to assault the Arbor Queen personally.

Despite all the maneuvers Captain Fossoway could do those ships brought them to battle. He sunk one of them though with several bolts from his scorpions slamming home into the enemy ship's sides before the others could close to bow range.

Paxter ducked for cover as arrows began to fall onto his ship's deck, cutting into his crew. They returned fire just as accurately, and the Queen had more men than even that the biggest Iron Fleet ship could. Against one attacker, his flagship would've won readily enough even if it was rammed by its enemy, but against two coming from both sides?

One ship was able to come close enough to throw across grapples, and men hurriedly went to work cutting the ropes away as the men on the other ship began to heave trying to pull the two ships together. However the other Ironborn ship, one that had a battering ram shaped like that of a kraken, slammed into his ship amidships from the other side, snarling the two ships together. "We do not sow!" That crew shouted, charging across the heaving deck of the front of their ship onto the deck of the Arbor Queen.

Two knights in full plate armor stood in front of Paxter, the older man having not wielded a sword himself in years. The Arbor Queen also had several other heavily armed knights and a hundred trained armsmen armed as well as the Ironborn were along with the crew that was armored in leather instead. They held the attackers at bay where they surged across the ship, the deck of the ship become slippery from the blood being spilled on it.

But this action took so much attention from the defenders that the second ship was now able to grapple with it on its other side, those men charging across in turn. And in this kind of battle, sharp up close and on an uncertain surface, the Ironborn had few equals, especially when numbers were on their side.

Paxter gripped his sword as he saw the battle of the deck slowly turning against his men, the weight of numbers and the greater experience of the attackers in this kind of battle telling. The overall battle was still in doubt, but this portion of it… Paxter shook his head holding his sword tightly in one hand, wincing a little at the weight of it. Still, Paxter would not go down without a fight, and he would be damned if he let the reaving bastards take him captive.

His knight protectors charged forward's as the Ironborn closed, cutting down several with their heavy broadswords but being pressed aside and backwards by the weight of the numbers attacking them. Paxter himself moved forward, waiting for an opportunity and took it when he saw one of the Ironborn turn aside to battle one of his knights. His sword took the man in the side, piercing his chain mail into his guts to send his body crashing to the deck to join the numerous other bodies there.

"We do not sow, we pay the Iron Price and reap our vengeance! The sea itself is rising, and we its children will take our rightful places." Said a dark, cold voice in heavily accented Westerosi. Balon Greyjoy burst through the melee to face Paxter. Unlike the other old man he held his sword easily, and wore chain mail with just as much ease. He was winded from the battle, but that was all. "You are the first, you won't be the last."

"For the Reach and the Seven!" Paxter said grimly, bringing up his blade and attacking. Balon batted his sword to one side, and with contemptuous ease ran the other old man through his unarmored chest, his sword completely passing through the other man's body and out his back.

OOOOOOO

Despite no longer having Paxter's commands keeping them organized, the rest of the Redwyne Navy fought valiantly. Not even the secondary ships retreated from the battle, and they wreaked a bloody toll on the Iron Fleet. By the end of the day only 32 Iron Fleet ships remained. Still, they won the day which was all Balon cared about. The Arbor was open for the taking.

Unknown to Balon however, many of the Arbor ships had retreated entirely from the island, under command of Ser Desmond Redwyne. Not having any idea of the strength of the force attacking the island, and not being contacted or seeing any sign of the fleet his Lord grand Uncle had led around the island's southernmost edge, he ordered every ship from every harbor alone the western shoreline of the island to remove itself from the island, heading towards Oldtown for reinforcements before coming back.

But right now, he only had six true war galleys, coupled with two dozen converted ships, and only his warships had full crews. Moreover, more than sixty ships of the Redwyne fleet were elsewhere when the attacks began, going about their business as a trade fleet or other jobs. Many of those were working the ocean near the Reach at other ports, and would hear about what had occurred. Eventually the Redwyne navy would gather itself. Then they would be back, with vengeance in their eyes and ships full of soldiers to reclaim the Arbor if need be and smash the Iron Fleet if they could.

OOOOOOO

To combat the Westerlands raiders causing so much chaos and death along the western border, Willas had first traveled upriver on barges to Goldengrove. He picked up a further thousand men from the Houses whose lands he was moving through, mostly light infantry and a few archers, but House Graceford had given him a force of four hundred heavy cavalry under Ser Thomas Graceford, Lord Graceford's eldest son. Being a very religious house whose faith was mostly towards the Mother, Graceford rarely took part in wars, but were more than willing to take the field against bandits and other groups who preyed on smallfolk. They also offered something even more valuable, enough horses to put a mount under every one of his men.

Once on the river, Willas sent messengers out for scouts that knew the area, local constables or any farmers that wished to fight back to meet him at Goldengrove, as well as every horse they could find to put a horse under his infantry forces, since that would allow him to move them faster that way over small distances. This was easier said than done however, the raiders had been extremely thorough in burning every farmhouse they could find and killing every person they could find, or worse in the case of the womenfolk.

The once fertile area of the Goldengrove had had something like three hundred farmsteads ranging from small to large in the last tax census of the area which Willas knew since he had helped conduct the last survey. If there were more than twenty farmsteads left unburned, and more than two-hundred men and women out there alive he would be astonished. Luckily several families had been able to retreat to the safety of Goldengrove, but still the destruction had been horrible to pass through for the little time it took them to reach Goldengrove from the river.

It had filled him and his men with a fierce desire to find the reavers and Willas set about that task with alacrity. He split his now mounted infantry and archers up into small groups of two hundred plus fifty heavy cavalry, each of which were assigned over a hundred light cavalry along with local scouts to find the Westerlands bastards before calling in the other forces.

Because of his strict orders to the scouting groups not to engage the raiders directly, they were able to find and report the reavers position to the larger units. In this manner his men surprised several dozen smaller groups of reavers calling in the slightly larger groups of mounted infantry to hammer them under. Willas' men attacked swiftly, always during the day and his ability to bring more power to a point like this allowed him to wipe out several thousand of them over the next few weeks. After that, thanks to survivors of those fights somehow linking up with them, the remaining reavers began to gather together once more in ever larger groups. Willas responded by doing the same.

After the first week Willas moved his personal command further south and east of Goldengrove. His force of four hundred mixed archers/infantry and two-hundred heavy cavalry found and destroyed any force that his scouts found heading deeper into the Reach. This, combined with the work the rest of his force was doing finally convinced the reavers to join up into one body, never realizing that he had only been fighting them with about half of the force available to him. The levees and light infantry forces he had gathered up had yet to be used but now they would be to finish this campaign.

The mercenaries had decided to retreat to Ivy Hall, the seat of the minor Noble House Kidwell, which they had taken while it's lord and most of his men was away to war with Lord Rowan. The hall was a simple two-story building with a low, ivy covered stone wall set around it in the center of an apple grove of rather impressive size, at least five acres across, with about a hundred yards of space cleared between the wall and the apple grove.

The true owners of the hall were dead. Lord Kidwell's lady had been killed no doubt after being used by the mercenaries like so many women had been in this area. Willas had already penned a note to the man informing him of what happened in his absence. It was not the first such letter, and Willas took very cold comfort in the fact he only had to write such letters to those of noble birth. The toll among the smallfolk was so much worse, and so uglier at times. Willas was getting very tired indeed of seeing the aftereffects of the reavers work.

Thanks to the fact that every battle against them had so far been during the day, Willas decided to go in against the reavers at night this time. He had two reasons for this, one because of psychological reasons, he had basically been setting them up for this after all. The second reason was because Willas was a very, very paranoid man. He preferred the word 'careful' of course, but his commanders called him paranoid behind his back. Willas was fine with that, because he couldn't get rid of the feeling that the next shoe had yet to drop here, and was wishful to survive such when it did.

Willas left several dozen scouts scattered all around the small keep in every direction, and each one of them had special fire arrows. The bundles the tips of those arrows had been wrapped in had been treated in chemicals back in Highgarden that would make the fire of the arrows a bright red, a perfect symbol of danger at any time let alone at night. That was surprisingly expensive to prepare, costing as much as a full suit of armor for a knight from the maester who had created them for him, but he felt they would be worth the expense if the worst occurred.

This kind of forethought and organization also marked the way he organized the actual assault. "You all know what to do." he said simply looking at his troop leaders. "First light infantry and archers. We want to see if you can dare the reavers to come out and face you. If you can, pull back in a controlled manner. Then we'll hit them from both sides with two wings of heavy horse."

"And with us my Lord." said the loan infantryman in the command circle. Unlike the light infantry that comprised the majority of Willas' forces, he wore heavy chain rather than the studded leather of the light infantry or archers. He was an older man of Mace's age, but that was all he had in common with Lord Tyrell. Where Mace had gone to seed rather badly, Toulev Smithson was built like a rock, heavily muscled with little fat on him with close cropped hair of solid silver. He had fought in the war of the Usurper and worked as an armsmen for the Redwyne Navy after that, so was an extremely experienced man.

Though he was of smallfolk stock, Willas had made him the commander of his heavy infantry, over the objections of several of his knights. They hadn't objected because they wanted the command of course, their contempt for infantry was rather strong, though the men Willas had chosen for his command was much better at not showing it than most. They objected because part of that was Willas stating that as leader of the heavy infantry Toulev would be able to give them orders if Willas was busy elsewhere. Willas however had waved off those concerns, and the man had proven himself over the last few weeks, leading one of the smaller mercenary hunting groups with ease.

"Indeed, we'll keep back most of the archers at first, and bring them up with the heavy infantry. If we can catch even a portion of that force out in the open and wipe it out in this manner, taking the holdfast away from them will be that much simpler. We haven't yet seen that many archers among them, but be wary nonetheless."

More than one knight rolled his eyes at Willas' rather old-womanly concern. But he hadn't led them wrong yet and the knights and minor lord's sons here had also gotten some valuable leadership experience over the past few weeks, so knew better than to argue.

An hour later the assault began, with the few archers Willas sent forward with his light infantry beginning to fire at the watchers that they could see up on top of the hall. The apple grove and the darkness of the night had allowed his men to move up under cover to take the defenders by surprise. Cries abounded through the night, as the mercenaries moved out of their temporary dwelling to clash with his light infantry first along the low wall then further into the open area around it.

Watching this from further back in the grove Willas smiled grimly, as each group of sixty men followed their troop leaders, fighting as groups, rather than individuals who just happen to be standing next to one another. They covered one another's backs, forming small shield walls here and there against the mercenaries. Who, Willas noticed, had more men than he would have thought at this point.

Or perhaps all of the men here came out to attack my troops en-masse? That would make sense given the lack of discipline they've shown so far. The Mountain was never a very organized beast after all. That bit of information had been gleaned from several prisoners over the past few weeks, adding to the grim delight the men took avenging the area on the monsters-in-men's-clothing. Regardless, it's time to end this. "Message for Ser Thomas and Ser Grendel. Tell them to attack."

Five minutes later the heavy cavalry burst out of the apple grove to slam into the Westerlander reavers in the open around the hall, and Willas frowned a little. The light really wasn't good despite the fires the mercenaries had kept around, giving them some light to see by but also destroying their night vision. However, it looked as if his cavalry units hadn't been able to stay as organized as he would've liked. Still, after charging through woodland I suppose that is to be expected.

They still did a number on the mercenaries, who obviously hadn't expected to face heavy cavalry in the middle of a nighttime battle like this. He saw hundreds of men go down in that initial charge, and more follow immediately after. "Excellent!" he shouted, slapping his hands together, then nodded over to Toulev. "I believe it's time for us to get it stuck in as well Toulev."

The older man grinned at him. "Aye milord!" He waved his hand in the air, shouting aloud over the din of battle that was happening a bare two hundred feet ahead of them through the woods of the apple grove. "All right you louts! Forward! For the Reach!"

The heavy infantry answered that call with a will, rising out of where they had hidden themselves lying down in the shadows of the trees. Willas moved with them, his lame leg slowing him down slightly but not mattering near as much as if he had to rely on it to grip a horse and battle. They reached the front quickly, slamming into the mercenaries moving around the small lines of light infantry. More archers moved up with them now raking the top of the holdfast with enough arrows to keep the defenders own archers down while also being able to fire at many of the reavers at the back of the melee.

Willas raised his blade, blocking what looked like a mace in the dark though they head was a strange design. He didn't have time to concentrate on that however, quickly pushing the mace aside and bringing up his shield into the other man's forearm, breaking the bone there. The Westerlander screamed, but that ended abruptly when Willas brought his longsword back around to slice the man's throat open. The next moment he dodged under a sword thrust from a greatsword, then lunged upright quickly, wincing as his lame leg was forced to take too much of his weight for a moment. His own sword point slid into the eye-slits of the visor of the man he was facing.

The next moment Toulev was beside him with three other men, and they battled their way forward, linking up with two knights who had been unhorsed in the darkness. Both men nodded thankfully to Willas, pointedly ignoring the smallfolk infantry around him something that caused Willas to frown. Nonetheless, the battle was going well.

Moments later however Willas was disabused by that notion. At that moment he chanced to look up into the sky and saw from the northeast that several of the scouts had fired off their warning arrows into than nighttime sky. Cursing Willas wondered if possibly it was a false alarm of some kind. We're winning Warrior-dammit! However Willas' common sense came to the fore, and he realized he could ill afford to ignore such a warning.

Reaching down to his waist Willas pulled out up the horn that he had kept their for just such an emergency. Looking around he blew it five times in quick succession first two short blasts then along one then two short blasts again. Shouts of surprise and astonishment answered that call, and he frowned as he didn't see the cavalrymen pulling back as they should. He blew it again in the same signal this time louder and finally the knights that made up the heavy cavalry began to respond, pulling back into the apple grove breaking contact with the mercenaries.

The infantry too began to fall back, but they had a much harder time of it. The former Mountains men didn't want to let them go. Willas cursed in the thick of it for a moment before Toulev and another man killed two of his attackers, buying Willas sometime to pull back, his lame leg once again hampering him. "Best get out of here my Lord." Toulev said grimly, moving with Willas as more men covered their retreat from the front line. "Especially if we have more company incoming. These bastards don't seem to want to let us go though."

"I can see that." Willas said, bringing up his shield to block an errant arrow shot from somewhere in front of them. "You have a messenger somewhere?"

A young squire ran up to them, the younger man's short sword dripping with blood. "My Lord?"

"Gather all the archers you can, one heavy volley straight at the enemy from point-blank range. That'll buy us time to pull away." Within seconds the archers had coalesced once more behind the infantry line, and the squire shouted aloud, his voice barely carrying over the clamor of battle. "Ready my Lord!"

"Infantry down!" Willas bellowed at the top of his lungs.

Toulev and the troop leaders took up the call. Quickly every infantryman along the line, mostly heavy infantry by this point the light infantry having fallen back with the cavalry, crouched down while raising their shields. More than a few died at that moment, overcome by the enemies they had been clashing with, but most had been astonished at the sudden move to hunker down. Then bowstrings twanged behind them, and that first line of enemies fell like wheat before a scythe along with many behind them.

A second later Toulev grabbed Willas and began to pull him away, while the rest of the infantry and archers fell back through the apple grove. They soon reached the area where they had left their horses. At that moment they learned it truly had been a good idea to pull back when they did.

From the northeast came the shouts and clamor of battle, along with unfamiliar war cries as more enemies appeared on that edge of the apple grove coming towards them through the trees, catching small groups of infantry and a few knights that hadn't pulled back in the fight direction. From the sound of it there were more attackers than there should have been if they were just the Clegane men they had been hammering for the past few weeks. This wasn't a simple trap then, Willas thought grimly. This was something that the old lion must've set up, the Clegane rabble as bait and to test the waters, and this other group to destroy any unwary force sent against them.

Willas motioned over to the heavy cavalry leaders who had gathered there, disorganized in the middle of the apple grove but still a viable force. "Split into groups of five gentleman." he said, quickly thinking of a scenario to get them out of this trap. "You won't be able to form for a charge in this grove, but you'll still be able to hopefully hold off any attacker that tries to encircle us with your heavier armor and reach. That is your only task, do not, I repeat do not get bogged down I need every one of you alive understood?"

Both knights nodded grimly, their young faces set sternly, though a moment ago they had been looking almost panicky. Willas' calm commands however had reassured them that they would be able to get out of this, and that reassurance carried over to their men. Within moments the heavy cavalry were on their way through the grove, their heavier armor and the armor moreover on their horses able to stand them in good stead against the weapons of their opponents despite the ground not favoring the momentum-based tactics that they were best suited for.

Willas gestured over to the light cavalry commander, another younger man but this one was from House Hightower, and had served under that House's lords for years. He was not blessed with great intelligence but he was steady, and that was what Willas needed right now. "I have another job for you."

After a few moments the man shook his head in amusement at the scheme that Willas it come up with. Nonetheless he bowed obedience then ran off, taking with him every spare horse, including the ones that Willas had used to move his infantry around so quickly, leading them off through the woods. Willas meanwhile took command of reforming his infantry and archers, the time his heavy infantry bought them allowing him the time to do it.

Throughout the rest of that night they fought their way through the grove, almost encircled a dozen times but yet breaking out thanks to the heavy cavalry and Willas' steady command. The archers were almost entirely up out of arrows however, and they had lost countless men in this sudden reversal, the night and the nature of the battle not allowing Willas to get an accurate count. They were never able to completely break contact, which of course was part of their enemy's plan, but that plan was derailed as they broke out into the surrounding farmland.

The Reach forces broke out, quickly filtering through a line of heavy cavalry that looked over a thousand strong along with the light cavalry, still nearly a thousand strong themselves. The attackers skidded to a halt seeing that, and quickly retreated back into the grove knowing they had the advantage there.

If they had looked closer they would've noticed that the men on those horses didn't seem at home there nor did their armor seem to be as heavy as one would expect. But with the sunlight coming up and casting their shadows into bass relief and after the fierce nighttime battle that they had just fought, it was to be forgiven that the Westerlanders couldn't tell that the men up there were smallfolk and scouts. Willas had had his light cavalry round them up and stick them on horses with some of the levees that had gathered at Goldengrove. Barely trained they had been good camp servants but now served a different purpose.

Willas stumped along, wincing with every step now from his leg but bellowing orders to reform his lines, his heavy cavalry breaking out after his light and heavy infantry, while his archers raced ahead, now without a single arrow to their names. Before the enemy could realize that they had been had, his men had reformed, and though exhausted at least seemed ready to receive them.

Those enemies haven't yet seen through the trick when Willas ordered his men to slowly start to pull back and retreat. By the time they realized that he was going to keep on going, his force was well on their way, and only what horse forces they had could've kept up. Instead they refused battle, pulling back to lick their own wounds.

Willas kept his men going until the horses began to tire then called a halt. He slid from the saddle groaning in pain from his lame leg as well as numerous other injuries he had taken through the night. However he was surprised to note that morale seemed to be high. At least judging by the laughter and chuckles he heard from all around him at the trick having worked.

He leaned against his horse's side, absentmindedly pulling out a carrot from his saddle for the noble creature. The stallion had been one of his, bred for endurance as well as strength, and he had succeeded rather remarkably well in its case. It was also incredibly loyal, and it nuzzled at his shoulder huffing wearily before it lipped at the carrot.

"Make sure the men have time to get some food in them," he said opening his eyes again to look at Toulev, who had remained with him throughout the blood-drenched night. "Make sure the horses eat moderately and that both horse and man at least drink some water from their supplies, no matter if they say they aren't hungry."

"I'll do that thing milord." Without another word Toulev moved off.

A moment later Ser Graceford moved wearily through the resting army, almost collapsing out of the saddle as he dismounted with none of his usual grace. The other young man removed his helmet, wiping at his sweat streaked face shaking his head. "Grendel's dead. They pulled him off his horse in that damn apple grove." The man almost sounded in shock at how the night had gone, but he was rallying quickly. "What do we do now?"

Willas rubbed at his own face wearily but answered quickly enough. "We send out scouts to determine how large this second force out of the Westerlands is, while the rest of us continue to pull back towards the river. I'll send word ahead to Goldengrove and across as far southwest as Old Oak. We need reinforcements, and Oakheart is the only family I know that hasn't already sent its men to Highgarden or Bitterbridge."

"I'd heard that Oakheart refused to participate in a war against House Lannister in memory of Ser Arys Oakheart." Thomas said, alluding to the former Kingsguard.

"They did, but they can't sit this out any longer, else their own lands might be in danger soon. Stranger take it, depending on the size of the Westerlands force, this could be the start of a small-scale invasion. We can't let the Westerlanders get deeper into the Reach."

"No Ser we can't." Thomas said firmly nodding his head in emphasis. "By the grace of the Mother, we will prevail!"

Willas nodded back, pushing himself away from his horse and going to do a survey of the men, his face set grimly. Whatever their losses, and he wasn't naïve enough to think they were anything but horrible especially among his knights, this wasn't the end of things not by a long shot. Indeed, if these men came from the families he suspected, then the opportunity he thought might be there in the long term could possibly still be realized. After all, the Westerlands are much more open on their southern front than anywhere else, aren't they?

OOOOOOO

While battles and war continued elsewhere, Ranma's army had finished their trek along the western side of the Green Fork to the nearest point where they would have to start trekking overland and away from the River towards Fairmarket. Knowing this, Ranma had allowed the army to rest for a full day off to rest the men to build up morale. All the troops were allowed to simply laze about and to whatever they wished save for a dozen men who knew some carpentry, and an old troop leader who had served once in the Manderly navy. He set these men to building a small, rather primitive river barge that could carry a few men across the River to send a messenger to Brynden and Greatjon, working with them along with Roger, who also knew some carpentry having learned it as a hobby.

The rest of the wolfsworn busied themselves in various ways. Edd and Cley went over the boy's bow-work. Arya and Meera went out together on a hunt just the two of them and Nymeria. Hathan began to teach his new squire Luke the rudiments of horse-care. Smalljon slept most of the day away 'because I can'. Dacey, Domeric and Lord Mallister entered into a card game with some of the smallfolk troop leaders that became bloodier than the battles so far and more costly to the losers pay than the time spent in Seagard.

Myrcella, Alayaya and Daenerys had decided to take a day for themselves a bit away from the army. Surrounded by the army all the time had been rather irritating at times, not that the men were crude toward them for the most part. After a few of them had been soundly thrashed by Ed and Smalljon, that had stopped even in Alayaya's case. Still, the opportunity to take a real bath was one they weren't going to miss, and it was nice to get away from the menfolk for a time

The Green Fork was a powerful, wide, deep, and very fast river for most of its length, only slowing down near the Ruby Ford, hence why the Twins had been such a powerful and very profitable position. Even in those places where you could wade out into the water, you couldn't go very deep without being in danger of getting swept away. Here however there was a small culvert, a tiny curve in the river bed filled with water, where the current wasn't nearly as strong, but which was deep enough to dive into.

With Fenris and Ghost on patrol around them, along with the draklings lying nearby, who Daenerys had rather loudly ordered to bite anyone that came near them before coming out here. Jason, despite his dislike for Daenerys, had offered to add a few ladies to her retinue. She had refused, siting the fact they only had a single tent for the ladies, nor was she about to ask for special privileges on the march, such as having dedicated servants like that.

Her austerity won her some points, and Daenerys had kept on doing so throughout the march, slowly winning the old man over. Jason was still visibly leery about her dragons, and worried for the future when she could ride them and thus become a true power to be reckoned with rather than having most of her power and all of her personal welfare relying on her marriage to Ranma. Still, Daenerys considered that an appreciable amount of progress.

She smiled a little looking over to where Alayaya lay with her feet in the water and the rest of her body laid out on the soft grass of the side of the pool. Alayaya had shown a remarkable ability to dive when they first arrived, well above what Myrcella or Daenerys were willing to try, but it had tired her out. Now she lay there, having pulled off the short shift she had been swimming in, her dark skin glistening as she allowed nature to dry her off, her rather large, perfectly formed breasts on display in such a way that would have inflamed any man who saw it.

"What are you thinking of?" Myrcella asked, nudging and Daenerys with her shoulder from where the two of them sat a little further away from Alayaya. Between them Rhaegon lay, the two women having taken turns trying to remove the remains of his last molting from between his wings where they lay along his back. Sunfyre was slightly further away, gnawing on a fish he had somehow caught with an incredibly smooth head-dive into the water. By his side another fish lay, which Daenerys had mentally ordered him to save for his brother.

Daenerys smile widened as she turned her head to look over at the younger girl. Since they had first met Myrcella had moved from being an object of sympathy but still a hated Lannister to a dear friend and finally to a younger sister over the course of this march. "Oh just how life is strange sometimes. Here we are, marching down to continue a war that is already been bloody and bitter, yet we can have this little moment of peace and quiet, it's just rather odd to me."

"Ranma says to enjoy the quiet times when they come, because the noisy ones never give you the chance!" Myrcella laughed. "I suppose he's right about that too." Her smile disappeared as she frowned. "I know I miss the quiet times, before Tommen was murdered and I had to walk on tenterhooks most of the time while I was at home, and without… without Ranma around to protect me."

Daenerys looked at her, wrapping one arm around the younger girl shoulders in a gentle hug, somewhat squeezing Rhaegon's body between them. The dragon huffed irritably, but didn't try to move away. "He does have that effect. Despite not having taken the vows and coming from a religion that denigrates them Ranma really is the epitome of a knight isn't he?"

"Ser Oakheart was my knight." Myrcella said, her voice catching when she said the man's name. "Ranma was something else. I knew that Ser Oakheart couldn't protect me from everything, he was bound up by other things, and his duty was always first to the Throne. But somehow I knew Ranma could or at least would try to defend me from anything or anyone regardless of who they were or what they wanted."

She paused, looking up the Daenerys, gathering herself, for a moment, before blurting out, "I, I really love him you know! It's not just a crush, and I realize I'm still young, at least he thinks I'm young, but my feelings are real!" As Daenerys made to speak she went on quickly. This was costing her a lot of courage to say, so she wanted to get it all out in one go. "I know somehow that I'm not a Baratheon, I'll be a Waters, and that means I won't be anyone important. I'll be able to…become whatever I must to, to join the two of you! If you're willing to share him."

Daenerys frowned in automatic anger at the very idea, but after a moment she slowly lost the expression. She really had come to care for Myrcella, and she didn't want to hurt the girl. But neither was she prepared to say that she was exactly happy with what Merry had just proposed. "Your right, you're young yet." She said instead, after having carefully leached all anger from her voice leaving only slightly brittle sounding compassion. That took a lot out of Daenerys, but she wasn't going to wreck their friendship for a problem that may never occur in the future.

"Moreover, Ranma sees you as a little sister, a little girl at the moment. That won't change anytime soon. You can still grow up, and still fall in love with someone else nor, despite what you think, is your status that cut and dried. You may be declared a Lannister if you are not a Baratheon, and it will be a while yet before we're in a position where we can receive any messages that the Citadel might've sent on that subject in any event."

"And if it doesn't happen? And if my status as a Waters is confirmed?" Myrcella asked, taking courage in the older girls calm response to her outburst. "Will you allow me to join you two, if I can convince Ranma I'm not the little girl he thinks I am?"

Daenerys looked at the other girl, and saw no jealousy there, only anxiety, anxiousness. No desire to take her place or push her to one side or even compete with her at all simply a desire to join her in Ranma, deep need and love for her husband shown in those green eyes. She sighed, then spoke, not knowing why she was saying what she was at the time, though in later life she would look back on this moment and thank her instincts. "Then we will revisit this discussion at that time."

Myrcella nodded, moving away slightly and turning back to the dragons deliberately changing the subject to the draklings rate of growth, something that Daenerys grasped with relief.

OOOOOOO

Lord Serret sighed in relief as the huge Lion Gate closed behind the last man of his command. Safe at last, well for now anyway. He turned to Jaime, smirking at the younger man, who grinned back. "So while we're riding up to the Red Keep, why don't you fill me in on the defenses you've put in place already young Jaime, and I can tell you what adventures me and mine had along the way."

In the Red Keep Cersei was ecstatic to see Lord Serret's arrival, though of course didn't allow that to show on her face. After Joffrey formally bestowed the position of Hand on him, he called for a council immediately, going over the defense of the city and what news Varys was able to tell them from elsewhere. His report on Stannis' was particularly troubling, though Serret was not pleased to see that Joffrey didn't seem to understand that.

"We have over ten thousand men here now!" Joffrey complained, his tone a petulant whine, so unlike his mother's cultured controlled tone, or even his father's bluster it made Serret's teeth grind. "I don't understand why we can't just take the field against the Reach or Stannis! Surely they aren't as dangerous as all that."

Cersei smiled lightly at her son, but Lord Serret answered first. "There is confidence and there is being blind to reality. The forces we have here consist at least a quarter of barely trained city watchmen. My own forces are exhausted from the march, and the Crownlands forces aren't the best trained I imagine. No, the city is our strong point, we can break them on the walls."

His word choice seemed to settle down Joffrey, and the new Hand went on, talking about his own experiences against Renly, and what that said about his command ability. From there they moved on to the food issue slowly beginning to be noticed in the city, and what to do about it, then on into more strategic issues. Throughout this discussion, Lord Serret was watching those of the small council closely, and being watched in turn. A den of vipers this is, but it's not my job to defang the serpents, at least for now. After we've broken the Reach army and Stannis, maybe then I can think about the small council and what to do with them, but for now, we have more pressing concerns.

At that thought Serret's eyes slid over to Joffrey, sitting with his mother to one side and Petyr Baelish to the other. He wondered if Joffrey and his apparent trust in Petyr was one problem they would have to solve, or something more pressing, but had no way of knowing. For now, he had to concentrate on exterior problems, not interior ones.

OOOOOOO

For the next few days Ranma wasn't certain why Daenerys was looking so introspective sometimes, or why Merry kept on shooting him such odd, hopeful glances. He thought at first that she had wanted to try riding Fenris, and though she had enjoyed it, and the fact that he once again regaled her with some stories from his past life, that didn't seem to be it. With more serious matters coming up to concentrate on Ranma decided to place that issue, whatever it was, into the 'inexplicable female things' folder in his mind. It was a rather large folder, but it served him well.

An easy four days march brought the small Northern expedition within sight of Fairmarket. And sound too, which made all of them start because the sound of battle carried clearly to them here through the brush, scrub and woods that surrounded them.

Ranma looked around him and began to wrap out orders. "Uncle, Hathan, Roger, form up the heavy cavalry in case we need a charge. Jason, gather up the archers, be ready to follow and exploit any openings. It sounds like there's fighting in the town, so be careful of being surrounded. Daryn, Edd, Smalljon, gather up the infantry and follows behind. Jon, Arya, with me." With that, Ranma raced ahead, Fenris following after him like a bolt from a bow, followed swiftly by Jon, Arya and their direwolves.

The six of them swiftly reached the northeastern side of the bridge across the Blue Fork to Fairmarket, barreling past several hundred villagers desperately trying to flee the town.

Inside the town there was madness. From where Ranma stood just inside the town he could see straight through the village down its one paved road. Ranma could see that the walls were still standing, but there were hundreds of soldiers in Westerlands colors, red and gold, everywhere. There were also a lot of men in patchwork and threadbare armor with the image of a black goat on their shoulders. These men were laughing as they chased after the smallfolk here and there.

They were fighting men House Mallister colors. In some place the defenders seemed to be holding them back but they had already gained a total hold, and looking straight ahead Ranma could see that the main through gate was still open. The defenders knew that as long as that portcullis was open, the army outside could send forces in, so were trying to push forward to recapture it, but the attackers were trying equally hard to hold onto it, a shield wall of Lannister men forming and moving outward to clear more room.

The press through the gate however was being held up by a man in a homespun cloak, who was dueling with three swordsman is at once. He had evidently been the first to reach the portcullis, or perhaps he had been there when the attackers had forced it open somehow. In any event he was giving a good account of himself having apparently already slain four men, their bodies strewn on the dirt road around him.

"Take and hold!" Ranma shouted, pointing ahead of them with Ice, then racing on. Jon and Arya nodded grimly, and the six of them, three humans and three direwolves barreled forward, baying their warcries. "Winter is coming!" The wolves howled, and at that sound every defender and attacker looked up, only to see Ranma, Jon and Arya slamming into the attackers like an unstoppable storm of steel and fang.

Ranma slew two men before they could even get their shields up, then leaped over the Westerlands line to land behind them, Ice sweeping out at waist level to cut open four others spilling their innards out into the courtyard, their leather armor not having even slowed the Valyrian blade down even without its edge being enhanced by ki. With the way clear he now stood in the center of the portcullis laughing grimly, his blue eyes dark with fury. "Come on, who wants to step up next!?"

He nodded cordially to the man who had been fighting in the gate, noticing in that kinetic time dilation effect he always entered in battle that he wore plate armor under that cloak of his. He also wielded a battered and dirtied sword, but it looked to be of excellent quality. Even in the midst of battle he kept his head covered by his hood, though that did nothing to stop the long white beard that hung down to his chest from sticking out. "Is this the only gate old man?"

The man shook his head silently and added in a gruff tone. "Two more elsewhere, one leading into the stable yard of the Paige keep. That one is probably already in our hands, I haven't heard much fighting from over there."

"You hear that Jon!" Ranma roared. "I've got this, you take Arya and take that other gate! "

Jon nodded, making his way around the melee that had developed between the attackers who had already made their way inside from this gate and the defenders trying to crush them under with numbers. Arya followed after, while but two wolves followed after.

Fenris stood with his master, with teeth bared in a snarl and a continuous growl that set the bowels to loosen among the Lannister men, many of whom were already falling back. "Winter is coming!" Ranma yowled, chopping at any that dared to come close, while behind him the remaining Mallister men finished slaying the attackers on the side of the gate. Of course there were about four-hundred or so still within the town, but the main gate was once again in the defenders hands.

OOOOOOO

By this time the rest of the army had reached the bridge, and the infantry now streamed across. As they did Smalljon and the others worked with their troop leaders, breaking them into groups of fifty archers and 25 swordsmen before sending them deeper into the village. Jason let the wolfsworn to that task, moving forward with one such group. They swiftly came upon a group of twenty Lannister men who that had taken time out of the battle to start looting houses. Two of them even carried tied up women over their shoulders, though they had hurriedly threw them down upon spotting the approaching northerners

One of them was about to take the woman he held as a hostage, but the arrows of the northerners took him in the face throat and chest. The other men fell similarly under a hail of arrows, even the heavy plate armor he wore standing no chance of stopping the powerful northern longbows at such short range. At a distance of over a hundred yards or so he might've been able to survive an arrow to the chest plate but under forty feet no chance.

The looters were then taken by surprise by a force of defenders coming out of the space between a few houses further down, charging into them as Jason led the Northerners forward. He found himself facing his son Patrek over a body of a fallen Westerlander. "Patrek! In the name of the Seven what happened here!"

"Father!" Patrek said, pushing up his visor on his helm. Despite not being on a horse, Patrek wore the full plate of heavy cavalry man, and he was sweating heavily from moving around in it. But Jason had taught him how to fight well enough on foot that it wasn't that big of problem. His legs would be feeling it tomorrow, but that was all. When he pushed up his visor any onlooker could see that the two of them were definitely related. The same hawk eyes under heavy brows, the same thin features and aquiline nose.

Patrek reached over, pulling his father into a loose hug for a moment before kneeling down to rip a portion of a Lannister tabard off to clean his blade. "We've been getting refugees from the other side of the Red Fork for weeks in a steady trickle. The Lannister's disguised themselves as refugees then waited until they had a sufficient force in the village before they took the gates to open them for the rest of their army. I don't think there's a large force out there, but they took us completely by surprise."

He grimaced angrily. "Most of our men were within the Paige's keep, and we held that gate as well as the gate into the rest of the village from the keep, so we haven't taken that many losses. The smallfolk and the town itself took the brunt of this assault. We might have to go house to house to clear them out."

"If we must, we must" Jason said philosophically, though his eyes were burning with anger at what the smallfolk had been forced to endure over the last hour or so.

At that moment, Daenerys road up at the head of another group of eighty northerners. With her two dragons circling in the air over the town and thanks to her warging with them she had a bird's eye view of the battle and had been using that to organize the northerner's counterattack. "There is a force of about a hundred men making its way back towards the one gate that the attackers still control, and another group is forming a few streets over. That group seems to be the more dangerous. I've already sent Daryn with a force to reinforce Jon and Arya, they're making their way to that gate. Should we call up the heavy cavalry to smash the nearby gathering, Lord Mallister?"

Patrek gaped at the young woman who could only be from house Targaryen, then up into the sky where two flying creatures flew. It actually took him a moment to realize what those creatures were in actuality, and he looked at her with wide eyes. "Father, what's going on? What are, why are you with…"

"That is a tale for another time my son, for now we have a battle to win." Jason said, cutting his son off. He looked up at Daenerys and shook his head. "No, heavy cavalry would be a liability in the small streets of most of the town. Leave them on the main road through town, if Ranma loses the gate they might be needed to close it, or better we could use them to pursue the remaining Westerlanders outside the walls."

Daenerys nodded, turning her force away as her two dragons slowly circled around, the town before diving down, their target, the bridge, well out of sight. "As I said," Jason chuckled dryly, turning back to his son. "A very long story."

OOOOOOO

Jon carved his way through four men, his twin sword style taking them by surprise until he came up to one Westerlander who was a better swordsman than most. His sword and shield worked as a single unit, blocking Jon's initials blows, and he reposted quickly, using his longer sword to good effect. "And who are you to use such a style, I've never seen anything quite like that." The man said in an almost conversational tone of voice, despite the battle going on around them, his features obscured by the helmet he wore, along with very good infantry style plate armor.

Behind Jon, Arya moved out from behind guarding his back, taking another man in the gut with Fang before wheeling away, her buckler slamming into the visor of another man crumpling the metal so much he couldn't see. She kicked him between the legs, then her sword took him high in the neck as he buckled forward before she moved on to her next opponent.

With a sharp series of thrusts and cuts from Fang, Arya threw two men back through the small gate that must've been used by farmers at some point, while her Nymeria moved up from out of nowhere with Ghost, finishing off the six attackers that were about to turn on her. More men however were gathering on the other side of the gate and on this side, and the three were hard pressed.

Jon however didn't have much attention to notice this as he dueled with the man in front of him. Several moments passed silently between them, neither man having breath or time to exchange badinage. At last, Jon spoke while at the same time smacking the man's blade aside as it tried to seek his throat. "Isn't it polite to give your own name first?" Jon then jumped up as the man brought his sword back in a blow to cut at his knees.

His own sword flashed out and the man barely raised his shield to block it from slicing into his chest but he was still thrown off-balance for a second, and he backed away on light feet, circling warily. "Addam Marbrand at your service." The man said. Then he twirled around, dodging another blow from Jon to bring up his sword in a whirling ark that should've caught Jon when he was off-balance from his own thrust.

However Jon's other blade came up, blocking the below from reaching him, allowing him to twist and bring his other sword arm up and around underhand, smashing into Addam's side with punishing force. However Jon was just off-balance enough that he couldn't get his full strength behind it, so instead of shearing through the plate mail and into the man it simply made a tremendous dent, and through Addam to the side.

With that bit of space, Jon bowed slightly, his tone dry and ironic. "Jon Stark, at your service and your family's." With that he moved forward, his twin swords moving in a dance of steel forcing Addam back. This allowed Jon to take a moment to view the action around them, his eyes widening at what he saw.

Arya was having a much tougher time of it. Ghost had once more faded into the background, coming out to rip and tear at the Westerlanders from behind. He didn't realize that this put more pressure on Arya and Nymeria at a time when they were trying to be a cork in a bottle, stopping the men already inside the town from retaking the gate, and stopping men outside from coming in.

Both of them were already bleeding from several wounds. Nymeria was limping, one of her paws cut badly, and one eye closed from blood from a cut over one eye. But she was still moving easily, evidenced by her nearly ripping one man in two while at the same time dodging a sword blow from another armsmen.

Even as Jon watched Arya's helm was ripped away, her eye-slit having caught on a mace's spike even as she dodged the majority of the blow. Another spike left a gash along her cheek that would no doubt leave a scar as the helm was ripped away. It didn't matter to Arya though. Her return blow gored the man through his chest, and she snarled as she left her feet, her leg kicking out against another man so hard that he flew backwards into three others.

It was only the training that Ranma had given him since coming back that was allowing Arya to fight this many people at once. But the gate and the need to remain guarding it forced her to stay in one place, unable to use the full 'Ranma Air Style', and that was costing her a lot.

Worse, Jon could see at least two dozen more Westerlanders coming out from deeper within the town towards them. But just then a familiar voice roared out from the other side of the incoming Lannister men. "Righteous in Wrath! Hornwood for the Wolves!"

Arya laughed aloud, Fang a blur of steel in her hands as she dueled with two men, her buckler having been dropped moments ago. "Daryn I could damn well kiss you!"

"I think Alys would probably object pack-sister!" Daryn replied, charging into and through the men retreating to the gate, his company following him shouting their own battle cries. As he slid into place alongside Arya he smirked. "But I'll tell your brother you've finally begun to notice boys, he and your lady mother will be most pleased."

"Forget I said anything, seriously." Arya growled, dodging a blow from a flail, grabbing the man's arm and doing a perfect over the shoulder throw before stabbing him through the gorget with Fang. She pulled her sword out, flicking the blood at Daryn. "Or else."

Daryn merely laughed, driving back three men before whirling away to slay a fourth, then back before any of the three could react. "Message received Arya, they do say females are the more dangerous of the species after all." Their banter signaled the turn of the battle, as more northern men surrounded and pushed back the attackers.

Across their crossed blades Jon could see Addam gritting his teeth at this turn of events, and he grinned, pushing him away then moving forward, no longer conserving his speed or strength to be used later. His blades were a whirl as he attacked, his short swords cutting here there, everywhere.

Addam, knowing he was overmatched, tried to reverse his fortune by a sudden lunge forward. But Jon dodged just slightly, allowing the blade to pass to one side of his body by a bare inch, before clamping down on it with one arm. He held the other man's sword arm there for a brief second while he brought his other sword across to slam the flat of his blade into the other man's helmeted head with punishing force. Addam collapsed boneless to the ground.

Above the battle Jon could hear the thrum of several dozen bows sounding off in quick succession, not against the men on this side of the wall, but on the outer side of the wall around the town. Arya laughed again, moving back from the gate as Daryn and a few men took her place. "Go get'em Meera!"

OOOOOOO

Instead of staying with the heavy cavalry, Rickard had grabbed every archer that hadn't already been assigned to unit clearing out the town and raced ahead to House Paige's keep. There he met a force of heavy infantry moving out into the town, but ignored them, passing them behind with a bare nod at the men in the lead, his banner and the war cries of his men telling the Mallister force he was friendly.

It was only as he was leading the archers up onto the keep's outer wall, which connected to the palisade around the village, that Rickard noticed Meera was with him. Before he could stop her, the young Reed girl raced on with a dozen archers following after. They came to a stop along the top of the palisade right above the gate where Jon and Arya were battling the Westerlanders. From there, Meera directed her archers to take the men still trying to press into the gate under fire.

That force broke under their fire, retreating frantically. Most of those men however were ridden down by the hoarded northern heavy cavalry, who barreled out of the main gate held by Ranma. After that, the initial battle was over, though the cleanup would take weeks.

Myrcella had set up tents during the battle on the clear portion of the bridge and main road through Fairmarket. As soon as the main battle was over she, the maester healer, Alayaya and the others Ranma had seconded to the 'hospital group', the name Ranma had given their efforts, went to work. Daenerys surprisingly joined them moments later. She guided wounded smallfolk to the tents, then took over organizing the search efforts for others for a time. It was a sign of caring that few lords would give to smallfolk caught up in the wars of their betters, and it won many a wondering glance from the people they were helping.

Leaving Roger and Hathan to lead the cavalry pursuit, Ranma moved back to help the searchers with the rest of the wolfsworn save Arya, who joined Meera on the wall. Dacey took another route to aid the town, organizing a bucket chain from the river and wells to put out the numerous fires the raiders had. Their prodigious strength allowed them to move burnt or simply collapsed pieces of thatch and wood to find trapped smallfolk, though more often than not they found bodies. The Westerlanders, either the regular armsmen or the ones with the black goat mark on their shoulders, had not been kind to the smallfolk.

Heaving up a piece of wood that had fallen in from a house's ceiling, Ranma began to hear noise coming from deeper within the ruin. He moved forward, tossing aside the pieces ceiling and other wreckage until he cleared the top of a hidden door in the floor. Pulling it up he leaned over the hole, grabbing the point of a spear that was thrust up at him. "Um, hello ma'am, would you like some help out of there?"

The woman who had just tried to kill him stared at Ranma's almost blasé tone, trying to wrench the spear out of his grip, which despite being on the iron tip of the spear was too strong for her to budge it. Behind her, two little heads stuck out from behind her ragged dress, not ragged through age but misuse and several rips here and there.

Ranma spoke softly, trying not to scare the family, who must have hidden down in their cellar the moment they heard the battle. "Do any of your children or you need to see a healer, ma'am? I'm Ranma and I'm with the House Mallister troops, we're here to help."

One of the two heads peeking out around the woman bobbed up and down before speaking in a voice Ranma recognized as that of a very young girl. "Yes Ser, my father and my mother're hurt. My father's fallen asleep, but he was thumped real hard over the head."

The woman let go of the spear reluctantly. Ranma pulled it out of the cellar, tossing it aside and leaping down into the cellar. He looked around, noticing the two people on the floor, and noticing one wasn't even twitching. He exchanged a grim glance with the woman, who shrugged her shoulders. As the woman helped the two kids up the staircase Ranma moved over to the injured duo, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt a pulse on the man's throat.

Giving the man a once over Ranma saw it looked as if he had been clobbered upside the head with something heavy, but it hadn't broken his skull or cut the skin. The woman was actually worse off, having a bad cut in her side deep and still bleeding. Ranma did what he could with her cut and to make her decent. Her dress had been halfway torn off which told Ranma a lot about what her husband had saved her from at the cost of a concussion at the very least. "From common people comes great courage…" He murmured then moved back to the entrance into the cellar, the woman in his arms while Smalljon leaped down after him, quickly moving to life up the man.

Ranma dropped the wounded off in the hospital area, then went in search of Daenerys and Merry. He found them by seeing Fenris sitting upright like a sentry in front of a large tent. Daenerys was helping a young septa who Ranma supposed was from the town set a man's broken arm on one side of the tent while Merry was working feverishly on stitching up a very ugly cut on a Mallister armsmen's leg. On the other side of her Alayaya was bandaging a head-wound on a Umber man.

Daenerys finished her work first, turning to see Ranma in the doorway. "How is it going?" He asked softly, his arms twitching as if he wanted to pull her into a hug, but didn't want to interrupt her work.

"It's going." Daenerys said grimly. "Merry's been a miracle worker, without her organization efforts this would be a lot worse. And despite his horrible level of empathy, Martyn, the maester of House Locke, is indeed an incredible healer. We have only lost four men so far, and I doubt more than a dozen of the injured will have to remain here when we move on."

"And the smallfolk?" Ranma asked, his voice still soft.

"Much worse, at least a hundred maybe as many four hundred dead, and dozens wounded." His wife replied grimly, shaking her head. "The mercenaries, I recognize that patch as belonging to the Brave Companions. They have an evil reputation, and they lived up to it here. We're doing what we can but…" Daenerys shrugged her shoulders, then nodded over to Merry before going on in a whisper. "Send for Dacey or someone to watch her, if we don't I have no doubt she'll keep going until she collapses."

At Ranma's smirk, Daenerys shook her head. "I know when I need to stop, it's precisely the time when my little ones inform they're hungry again. I've got them out well past the shanty town's edge with Ghost right now." She pushed his shoulders slightly. "Go on, do what you can do, we've got this under control as much as possible."

Ranma nodded, moving out of the tent to rejoin the search efforts. Neither of them noticed the old man who had tried to hold the main gate loitering around outside the tent. If someone could have looked under the old man's hood, they would have seen eyes widening in shock, before a faint smile appeared over the long beard.

OOOOOOO

Even after having it all explained to him Patrek still couldn't keep his eyes from tracking to where Daenerys sat next to Ranma on one side later that evening in the dining hall of House Paige. The two of them were holding hands almost absentmindedly as they listened to him talk about had been happening. "Ser Paige and Ser Grell sent most of their combined force into Hag's Mire to bring House Nayland to heel, while we stayed here with a few men from House Paige. Their senior knight is Ser Damon Paige, but he's still recovering from wounds taken in, well internal issues caused by a difference of opinion with his sons-in-laws, both of whom were Freys, and isn't mobile enough to do anything but maintain order in their keep."

Patrek looked at the expressions around the table, breathing a sigh of relief when he realized his father must've already shared that horrible tale. "He's laid up even now, nearly ruptured something trying to join the battle earlier and their houses healer, a very young septa, forced some herbal concoction down his throat that knocked him out. At any rate, we've been somewhat reinforced from House Shawney, they sent a few dozen back, but they did so because most of those troops were injured in some fashion. From what we know their castle still stands, both Lord Shawney and the new Lord Lolliston are as determined as ever to not side with the bastard who sits on the throne, no matter how much money the Lannisters try to wave in his face. But Lord Shawney is a proven combat leader, Serec Lolliston is not."

"When was the last time you heard from them?" Ranma asked, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"Six days ago."

Domeric groaned a little. "They might've faced the same sort of attack, unless their castles are closed entirely and ready for a siege."

"That, that could be." Patrek said, tugging at his short, neat goatee for a moment worriedly. "Serec I know was wishful to keep his castle open as long as possible to take in as many of his House's smallfolk as they could. I'll send scouts out tomorrow first thing, though we won't hear back from him for six days at a minimum, that's as long as it takes to get a runner to House Lolliston's castle and back."

House Lolliston's castle was on an almost straight line between Fairmarket and the Kneeling Man's Ford, and was slightly closer to the ford than the town. House Shawney's was closer but to the east of Fairmarket, out of the way from an advancing army's point of view from the ford, so it might not have been subject to the kind of assault they faced here. More to the point, Shawney had closed his House down the moment he and his men reached his castle from the battle at the Ford.

With a shrug of his shoulders Patrek went on. "A messenger arrived yesterday from the knightly houses who said that they had finished with House Nayland, and they were on their way back. But we've also received word that the second echelon of the Lannisters arrived a few weeks ago. I have no idea what the old lion is doing with those men, he hasn't made any move to cross the ford that we know of. He might not wish to be bogged down in sieges against Lolliston and Shawney or here though I doubt we would put up much of a defense against a full army. You might not have noticed, but most of the palisade here's wooden. A single good fire would have them in and among us, and unlike today I doubt we'd have the numbers advantage then."

"The man I took prisoner, I think he was the leader of this attack." Jon said from where he sat, sipping quietly on wine (some of which had been distributed to the men) and eating some bread having worked up quite an appetite. "His name was Adam Marbrand, and I remember hearing something about him though I can't remember what." Actually Marbrand was the only prisoner taken. None of the northerners or Mallister men were feeling very merciful after seeing what had been done to the smallfolk of the town.

"You took him prisoner!?" Patrek said astonished. "Adam Marbrand is supposedly one of the better blades in Westeros, rumor has it he's almost as good as the Kingslayer."

"But not quite up to the wolfsworn standard." Ranma said smirking a little while the rest of the wolfsworn chuckled grimly. But Ranma went on more seriously, asking. "Do we have any news from Riverrun, how is my grandfather?"

Arya looked up at that from where she had been lounging on the ground of the sitting room with her head on Nymeria's side. She and Ranma exchanged a glance, both hoping to meet their grandfather before he passed away.

"Lord Tully is still alive as far as we know." Patrek said his hands held up in an 'I don't know' gesture. "The Lannisters have made no attempt to besiege Riverrun, which is smart of them since that would've forced them to use at least half of their total army. Instead that old lion has most of his men ready to defend the fork across the river, either at the Kneeling Man's Ford, or down at the Trident." He gestured to the map on the low table set between most of the people taking part in the discussion, pointing at both spots.

"Does House Blackwood still hold out?" Daenerys asked.

"They do, your um, milady." Patrek said, wondering how to address her. Plus he had often been told about what had happened to his uncle and so many others under the old mad King. She's truly gorgeous though. Ranma's a lucky man, if she doesn't develop any of her family's fire madness that is.

"That's good to hear." Ranma said nodding his head. "I'll need to look at the map some more, this is the most detailed map of the Riverlands I've seen, but I think I'll have a plan ready for us tomorrow. We should keep the army here for at least two days though, to help the locals repair their houses and everything, but after that I want us to move out quickly. I've no doubt that the Lannisters already have an idea of what happened with the Twins, and they'll certainly hear about what happened here, but I want us to retain the initiative."

Speed over all, quickness over all. While I don't go for the whole utter ruthlessness part of Genghis Khan's philosophy, he got those parts right at least. And when we do strike, I mean to be as thorough as need be. Ranma thought grimly. Strike hard, strike fast, cause chaos and opportunity will follow, heh the anything goes school of warfare you old gold fucker.

"Speaking of this past battle," Ranma went on clicking the fingers of his free hand. "That old man who tried to hold the main gate before I arrived, do you have any idea who he is?"

"Not a one. He was just one of the refugees, came in with the last batch, pulled out his sword and began to attack the Westerlanders from behind the moment the Lannisters made their move from what my surviving men who were there said. He could be a traitor to them for all I know, someone who hates the Lannisters for his own reasons?" Patrek shrugged ignorance again.

"Why don't you send for him, I'm certain there is a story behind his skills and his being here at this point in time." Dacey said. "Old men with beards like that and skills like that should be rather rare shouldn't they?"

Edd got up from where he had been sitting, comically making as if he was groaning in agony like an old man for a moment before leaving. It actually didn't take long to find the elderly gentlemen in question. He was loitering down in the courtyard helping take care of some of the horses. But it was pretty obvious to Edd that he had also been watching the entrance to the keep for some reason. Edd explained that Ranma and Daenerys wanted to talk to him, and the man nodded, following after the spear wielding Karstark wolfsworn.

The moment he walked into the room being used as a meeting hall however Fenris cocked his head from where he was laying down by the two draklings behind the small sofa Daenerys and Ranma were sitting on. He got up, leaning over the sofa's back to stare at the man before turning his head to look at his master. Ranma gasped shaking his head with a laugh. "Ser Barristan? What are you doing here?"

Everyone's eyes wide as they all stared at the old man, who simply shook his head in resignation. "Should've known this wouldn't work for long. What gave me away, lad?" Ser Barristan Selmy said, reaching up with one hand to pull back his hood, revealing his craggy but familiar features, hidden by a large beard at the moment but still recognizable to those who had met him before.

Ranma couldn't say Fenris of course so he made up a story on the spot which at least sounded believable. "The way you stand and that voice of yours earlier. You made a good try of trying to disguise it, but I know that voice, I didn't have time to think about it during the battle but it was obvious now."

"So you are Ser Barristan Selmy?" Daenerys said cocking her head to one side and looking at the old man. "I thought you had hair on top of your head rather than completely situated on your chin."

Dacey and Arya both laughed, while the men simply chuckled and Barristan shook his head ruefully. "It's a new affectation your Grace, I did after all have to disguise myself after I was removed from the Kingsguard."

"What?" Ranma gasped, shaking his head. "Why! I don't have much truck with the Kings you've served, but you at least served them loyally, no man alive could doubt your oath."

"Joffrey." Myrcella said shaking her head. She had been falling asleep leaning against the arm of the sofa by Daenerys where she sat on the floor, utterly exhausted from her work in the hospital. She had roused however when Ranma shouted his surprise at seeing Barristan. "Hello Ser Selmy, I'm sorry that my despicable brother treated you so badly, but I'm glad to see you."

Barristan smiled, bowing from the waist towards the Princess. "And I am glad beyond all knowing to see you still alive, lass. Whatever your true heritage you were still one of my charges in the not distant past. I was sorry to hear of Ser Oakheart's passing, but at least his sacrifice allowed you to reach a place where you could find safety."

Myrcella nodded looking away again at the memory of her protector, while Barristan turned back to Ranma and Daenerys. "Yes, I was dismissed in favor of the Kingslayer, setting aside all precedent and law, in favor of that murderous bastard. I was tempted to carve my way towards Joffrey and cut his throat, but I left instead. After that, I wondered which King was worthy of my blade and found both the Stag brothers wanting for one reason or another."

"Renly is a grasping little ass, whose only good point is that he's likable and has a sense of humor. He's done nothing else, he's not even as loyal to family as I would like to see. I've heard some of the comments he's made about Stannis's only daughter, and I wouldn't say such things about the meanest smallfolk lass. And Stannis is cold, and apparently has taken up with a foul foreign religion from some rumors that have gotten out from Dragonstone. Then I started to hear about your return with Ranma, so I decided to make my way north."

"I'd hoped to observe you my lady and see if you had any of your father's madness in you before coming forward with my true identity however."

"You're not the only one who wanted to observe me Ser Selmy." Daenerys said wickedly, smirking over at Jason who coughed into his fist for a moment looking away while Patrek chuckled lightly at his discomfiture.

"I can believe it given what the Mad King did to your brother Lord Mallister." Barristan said nodding his head to the other man. "Nonetheless, I have served one mad King, one King who was a worthless drunk and for a few days one who was a pulling whelp of a boy who might be worse than both combined. I think…"Barristan said looking at Daenerys closely, the way she and Ranma were so close, and how she had worked so hard in the 'hospital' earlier that day. "I think… I think I would like to see what serving a Queen is like. If you will have me."

"Not just a queen Ser Selmy." Daenerys said her voice now serious. "Ranma and I are equals in rank and power. True equals, something we hope to put into law and custom after we win this war."

Ranma nodded his head at that. "Nor will there be a Kingsguard as you understand the term, a group of the best blades or whatever you wish to call it from the entire kingdom. "The Wolfsworn, the River Blades, others like that and the Royal Regiments, yes." But no more Praetorian Guard BS.

The wolfsworn all chuckled all around him, even Arya laughing quietly as she stared at the old man one hand rested on Nymeria's head.

At the word 'regiments' Sir Barristan cocked his head wondering what it meant, but shrugged his shoulders. "In that case, I will serve you both, what oaths would you have me take?"

"So you would become the first of our Garden Guards?" Ranma asked, smirking a little.

" Oh that's just horrible!" Arya groaned shaking her head, as everyone else, even Jason and Patrek, did the same. "We'll need to think of a new name for the swords we get from the Reach brother."

"I'm not good with making up names so sue me." Rama said growling a little, causing Fenris and Nymeria to both huff in laughter.

He turned back to Sir Barristan, who was grinning through his beard, but he could tell that the older man didn't like that name either. "Fine, we'll consider changing the name later, but the oaths we ask you to take won't change. Kneel Ser Barristan."

The old man did so quickly. Ranma rose from his chair, picking up ice from where it had been leaning against the side of the sofa he was sitting in. Raising it, he placed the flat of the blade on one of Selmy's shoulders, while Daenerys stood up, her hands joining his on the hilt. "Do you, Sir Barristan, swear to uphold the law and the customs of the land? To always be true to the crown, so long as it remains true to defending the people it is charged to protect?"

Barristan blinked at that, nor was he the only one. Normally oaths to join the Kingsguard were all about obedience to the crown and defending said crown. This was something new, and the emphasis on being true to the crown so long as it was true to the people was very strange. Yet at the same time, also very gratifying, showing Barristan he had chosen wisely here. "I do." He replied firmly, no hesitation in his voice.

"Will you defend the innocent and the weak against those who would oppress them? Will you both offer and keep our council, fight by our side in these troubled times and beyond, in the pursuit of fairness and the rule of law?" Daenerys asked. She and Ranma had spent many hours over the course of the march thinking about these oaths, and while at first she hadn't been happy about many of them, she agreed they needed to be said.

"I will." Barristan replied for the second time, his eyes staring into Daenerys own.

"Will you show mercy to those who deserve it, generosity to those who need it, and bring justice down upon those who break the Crown's peace?" Ranma asked.

"I will."

"Will you defend the realm against the forces of darkness and other dangers, both foreign and domestic?" Daenerys asked.

Barristan actually blinked a little at that then realized that the two were talking about the Red Witch rumor placed at Stannis' right hand. Or so he thought, anyway. Regardless, he had no qualms about giving his word to fight such as that. "I so swear to do."

"then rise Ser Barristan Selmy, and join us at our side from now until you or we take our last breaths." Both royals chorused. There was a moment of profound stillness, the Riverlanders looking on in awe and the wolfsworn merely grinning, along with Rickard though his smirk was much tarter than theirs. He was always amused by the panoply the southerners needed to add to their vows to one another.

Slowly Barristan rose from where he was kneeling more certain he had made the right decision to serve these two than he had ever been about anything before, while Ranma and Daenerys both sat down once more, their faces solemn. But then Ranma smirked, clapping his hands together. There was a strange sort of promise to that sound, as if it started something or rather signaled the start of something. "And now, tell me what you can about what went on in King's Landing after I rescued Sansa, and as much as you can about Tywin Lannister..."

Just then there was a knock on the door, causing everyone's eyes to look in that direction. A second later an armsman in House Paige colors poked his head in, his voice somewhat hesitant. "Milords, there is a septon out here. He says he wants to talk to the, um, the 'Northerner heathen' and the 'Dragon Queen'."

End chapter

Whelp, the Ironborn are on the playing field now, though their first strikes didn't go nearly as well as they hoped. And, in case it looks as if the North is getting off too lightly, remember that there are other enemies out there than the Ironborn.

There will be a lot more about what is going on in King's Landing in the next chapter, as the siege begins and certain events come to light. That, Stannis and the conflict about to begin between Ranma and Tywin directly will be the main sections of that chapter. After that, a chapter centered on the Wall and events at sea.

Oh, and I know the oaths are sort of meh, but I can't come up with better ones.

Hope you all liked this one, and the unfolding war.