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.

15. Chapter 15

Wild Wolf 15

I do not own ASoIaF or Ranma, god damnit.

I'd like to give a shout out to Antony444 for his aid in editing this, though again we are still dealing with odd 'space missing' issues.

For those wondering I will have the next chapter of ATP out by the end of October, possibly along with the next chapter of this story but I don't want to make any promises there. Also, Xata? Not cool dude. RL is an irritant as always, but I will also be putting out a bit of a surprise at the same time, a sort of hint to what I'd like to do when WW is finished simply because a specific interest of mine has been fed rather well of late. As such, there won't be a small story chapter out two weeks from now, sorry. Though I have sort of decided where I'm going to go with those and the poll.

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Chapter 15 The Players Change, the Game Goes On

While Ranma was pursuing Tywin events elsewhere events continued apace around Westeros and even beyond its shores.

"Be gone lest our arrows fly!"

Viserys continued to stare up the Dragonstone's walls angrily, shaking his head. "Then I will take back my family's ancestral home by force! And you will all be put to the flame, men, women and children! Not one traitor will be left alive!"

With that Viserys turned away, riding his horse back down to the small but extremely well-designed port, which he found practically empty, the poorer houses abandoned and the large, stone houses, almost small holdfasts, were shut tight. From the dock he was rowed out to the fleet resting at anchor all around the island of Dragonstone, well out of catapult range.

The fleet had lost one of their ships to a lucky catapult's stone before Viserys realized that simply showing up with the Targaryen flag wasn't going to convince the inhabitants of his family's ancestral home to relinquish their usurpation of it. He had responded quickly however, ordering the fleet out of catapult range before moving in under flag of parlay.

He was pulled up over the side of the large transport galleon that was his flagship, staring up into the sky for a moment to see where Balerion was circling, doing his daily exercises. If only he was larger still! He is a monster for his size, but he can only carry me for short amounts of time yet. He's responding well to verbal commands, but I can't trust him in a combat situation just yet. If I could, this battle would be much shorter than it's going to be.

Pausing he forced himself to nod to the Dornish sailors that had helped him aboard, before moving on brusquely to the captains quarters which doubled as his and his wife's quarters and their makeshift council room, shivering slightly. The turn of the weather had surprised him after the came around the Broken Arm, and worsened the further north they went. It wasn't an issue just yet, the army had enough warm clothing to get by for now since nights in the Dornish deserts could be quite cold, though they would have to create winter quarters at some point if it became even cooler.

Viserys stared around at his commanders, his wife, and the two Sand Snakes that had decided to accompany her. The two of them were named Elia and Nymeria, and they were as different from the one he had met previously, Obara, as night and day. For one thing, they were both attractive, if Elia was still a little too manly of form for Viserys. And they were both very intelligent.

Elia was a mistress of horses, and before they had left Dorne Viserys had been amused to watch her actually out-joust some of the Dornish knights. She had been an aid to Viserys when he began to train Balerion to carry first a saddle and then Viserys himself. Not with the dragon, since the 'black beast'; as all the sailors called Balerion, would not let anyone but Viserys near him. But she had given Viserys a lot of ideas on how to deal with that aspect of the dragon's training.

Her older sister Nymeria was almost as gorgeous as Arianne, with dark eyes, skin the same olive color as her cousin and long silky hair worn in a complicated braid bound by copper and bronze hoops. She was a master of daggers and diplomacy and had given Viserys a lot of good advice over how to approach House Velaryon, and indeed had been the one to convince him to do that before coming back to Dragonstone. She was also going to be the army's connection to Prince Doran's spy network once they landed.

After looking at them all coolly, Viserys imparted the news they all no doubt had seen coming. "Diplomatic talks have failed. Whoever Stannis left in charge is a firm believer in R'hllor. He and Stannis's wife, who he left here with his daughter, firmly believe that this R'hllor will protect them from a dragon's flames so long as they remain loyal to the 'Azor Ahai'." He sneered as he said the last two words.

"Stannis takes that seriously?" Arianne asked, astonished. "I thought that was a vague rumor, or at best that he was simply using that title and this Red Witch to his advantage without ever completely buying into whatever mysticism she was trying to sell him."

"He might be." Viserys said, calming down slightly but still vibrating with rage inside. "I can't tell you his inner thoughts. Regardless, right now it means that Dragonstone is held against us."

"Your Majesty, that poses a tremendous problem." Jorah Mormont murmured. "Dragonstone has many natural advantages that make it almost impossible to siege without incurring horrific losses."

"The Bear is right your Grace." Nymeria murmured from her place by Arianne, using the name she and her sisters all used for the Mormont Exile. "We of Dorne are made for light skirmishes, quick hit-and-run actions or at worst holding a defensive position of our own against attackers. We are not entirely unskilled at sieges, but besieging Dragonstone poses several problems that I don't think we can overcome easily."

The other Dornish lords that had come with the army with their men talked about it amongst themselves while Viserys strode over to stare at a map of Dragonstone that Doran had given him back in Sunspear, cursing all the while inside. "We need to take that castle." he said aloud, effectively ending the conversation behind him. "We've taken Driftmark without a fight, but Dragonstone is the key." The families on Driftmark had been Targaryen supporters for untold generations, long before even the conquest of Westeros, and with Nymeria's aid Viserys had easily talked them into supporting him once more.

"Does anyone have any suggestions?" He asked the room at large. Viserys was perfectly willing to order a full-scale assault on the castle, even knowing it would be bloody beyond belief, but he wanted the suggestion for such to come from someone else first, just in case it actually didn't succeed. If it succeeded he would be perfectly willing to take credit for it no matter how many people died, but he was well aware that the Dorne were wary about taking casualties.

The fact that Dorne had still not recovered from the losses they had taken in Robert's rebellion had honestly come as a shock to him. The army they had given him numbered around 10,000, and that plus the remaining 8000 that had been sent with the mercenaries and Oberyn was almost that totality of the Dornish military strength. A few castles on its front facing the Prince's Pass in the Boneway still retained men, and the other Houses had of course retained enough men to defend their homes, but if he lost this army it would be generations before Dorne recovered, and all of his Dornish commanders knew it.

Even so, there were those willing to take a chance. "I have a suggestion my Lord" said Ulwyck Uller standing forward and boldly gesturing at the map of the island. "The problem with taking Dragonstone is threefold. One, the island's only real port is deeply inside the range of the castle's catapults. Two, the island itself has no natural woodlands to make siege weapons from. Three, the strength of the castle itself. That would force us to attempt a full on assault take the walls, and as Lady Nymeria already said, that does not play to my countrymen's natural strength."

"However, there is one advantage that we can make use of." Ulwyck Uller, brother of Lord Uller continued. "Many of us are master skirmishers, able to move over the harshest terrain without being spotted. My own houses men are trained to move across flat deserts without being spotted!"

He looked proud of that while more than one of his fellow lords discretely rolled their eyes. House Uller was deep in the Dornish desert, and many felt that the heat and sun had done something to their brains, making them wild and somewhat insane. That Ulwyck would be the one to come up with an idea to assault Dragonstone therefore surprised none of them.

Ulwyck didn't notice this and continued. "If we use some of the ships here as a diversion, we can land troops at the furthest point of the island and march overland from there, sneaking our way closer to the castle to begin to assault the walls."

Arianne and the two Sand Snakes exchanged a glance, and with a flick of one hand Arianne consigned of the current discussion to Elia, who was the one who knew most about moving silently. The youngest of the trio spoke up quickly, her voice showing no hesitation to take part in the discussion. "Even if we get close to the actual castle, those walls are tall and powerful, and grapples make noticeable noise when they hit. Even if we were able to get there, which is not, I hasten to add a certain thing, getting up the walls would be incredibly tough."

"Not if, say, around two thirds of the men with us lay down cover fire." Ulwyck replied triumphantly. "With that we will be able to scale the walls."

"Yet even if you can do that, winning from that point supposes that you have larger numbers than the defenders. I'm not certain why you think that could be a case."

"Surely a so-called King so strapped for people wouldn't have left a strong force behind, not when he has that pirate fleet guarding his back." Said another one of the younger lords, from House Jordayne.

"Stannis is many things," said Ser Valan Toland, a nephew of Lady Toland. "But incompetent is not one of them. The force he left will be strong enough to hold Dragonstone. Two hundred men in that castle could hold it against a full assault for weeks, more than six hundred could hold out against an entire army, even if we had brought along siege equipment. No, this is folly. Driftmark has resupplied us and added another six hundred men to our cause, we need to move on. We can't let ourselves be pinned here at Dragonstone by the pirate fleet."

"How long until the pirate fleet could get word about what has occurred here, and how many ships do you think they could send without breaking their blockade on King's Landing?" Viserys asked, joining the discussion once more as he turned from the porthole where he had been watching Balerion flying around.

Most of the more thoughtful lords frowned at that, slowly turning to Lord Gargalen of Salt Shore, who was the acknowledged seaman among them. When he was younger he had actually served on a merchant ship at one point, and that plus his House controlling a small port under their castle gave him insight into ship movement that most of them lacked. He frowned heavily, one hand fingering a thin scar set below one ear and running along his jaw line. "I think that the main problem from their perspective is the blockade and receiving orders my Lord."

"Elaborate please."Viserys said politely, his voice mild. He was always in a better humor after seeing Balerion fly around.

Lord Gargalen nodded and went on. "From what our spies recently reported about the ship numbers that Stannis has gathered to blockade King's Landing, he has around 72 war galleys, and another 34 pirate vessels. With the need to stay out of the range of the trebuchet we know were built in King's Landing, I would estimate that Saan would need at least a third of his available ships to blockade the city. In the autumn season it should take a fleet about a week for a ship to carry word of what happened here to them, then another week and a half, possibly two weeks to get to Dragonstone from King's Landing. But while the pirate vessels might be willing to act as they see fit, the war galleys won't be, they'll have to receive orders before leaving the blockade."

"That's true."Nymeria said reluctantly. It had been she who had gone ashore near Sharp Point to contact those spies, who had forwarded their messages to a signal spy living near that castle. "From my own read of Stannis, he isn't one to encourage independence among the majority of his commanders, certainly not on the captain's scale."

Viserys frowned thoughtfully then his eyes lit up as he realized what had grabbed his attention about what Lord Gargalen had said. He rushed over to his seat chest, with the conversation pausing around him as he hurriedly pulled out some of the notes on fine parchment that Doran's spy network had passed on before they left Planky Town. Finally he held up the note he was looking for and said triumphantly, "162! There are supposed to be 162 war galleys in the Royal Navy. We found and took what 25 or so from Driftmark?"

"27 actually." Arianne replied looking at Lord Gargalen thoughtfully then at Viserys. "What are you thinking of, My King?"

"If our numbers up on fleet blockading King's Landing is accurate, then Stannis had to have left the others war galleys somewhere. Which makes sense, since we know a large part of his army comes from the Royal Navy. How long would it take us to send a, what is it called, a cutting out expedition to Duskendale?

"Four days or so to get there and another six to get back my winds would be against you for at least a portion of your journey coming further out of Blackwater Bay." Lord Gargalen replied quickly, his face shifting into a rather rakish smile. "That's an excellent idea though!"

"You will see to that then my Lord." Viserys said magnanimously. "How many ships do you think you should take?"

"15 should do the job my Lord, fully manned war galleys. I'll actually take 15 of the ones we've commandeered from Driftmark, that way if those ships are defended, the defenders won't notice anything different until we're within attacking range."

"Good thinking." Viserys said then turned back to Ulwyck. "As to your suggestion, would you and your house be willing to take on this dangerous task? If it succeeds of course the glory of taking Dragonstone and the riches it contains would be yours. All I want is the castle itself, in particular the Painted Table. That is a treasure of my house. Anything that the bastard Baratheons might have added since their occupation can be yours."

House Uller did not have much in the way of riches. They specialized as Ulwyck said in skirmishers, archers and saboteurs simply because they didn't have enough money to pay for decent enough armor for anything else. So Viserys was not surprised when the other young man's eyes looked up eagerly. "I'll take that castle for you my Lord, leave it to me!

To one side Arianne and the two Sand Snakes glanced at one another, shaking their heads. This was going to be a disaster but Viserys was so set on taking Dragonstone that even attempting to talk him out of it would probably mean their banishment from this counsel. Arianne couldn't afford to let that happen, who knew what Viserys would do without her around to handle him?

Arianne then glanced at Ulwyck, hoping the man succeeded. Viserys might have set him up to enrich himself if he won, but if he failed, Viserys would just as easily turn on him. And Arianne was not certain the man would survive that, given her husband's fury.

OOOOOOO

The battle began that very evening. Several war galleys moved in close to the port, as if they were trying to land troops. Almost immediately they came under attack from the castle, its catapults having a much longer range than the scorpions the war galleys had. They retreated, but came back in again and again dodging rocks as they came out of the sky always changing courses whenever they could. It was harrowing for the men and women on those ships, since even one boulder could have spelled doom for a war galley if it was hit.

One of ship lost its rigging to a stone that arced directly over the ship almost, not catching it abeam but taking with it the war galley's rigging. Several men died from the splinters of the collision, and two more were pulled over the side by the falling rigging. Another ship, one of the Royal Navy vessels they had manned from Driftmark was hit directly on its nose. It's crew immediately piled into the rowboats as the ship began to sink.

The rowboats tried to make for the port, but there they came under fire from the scorpions up on Dragonstone, which were much more accurate than the catapults. One of the rowboats sank, taking with it all hands, but the second was able to disembark its first load onto the quay, where they ran into fierce resistance from a group of 100 heavily armed armsmen that had been stationed men had been ordered to attack any group smaller than themselves, but retreat in the face of any larger group. They ruthlessly cuts down the Dornish men, pushing their dead bodies back out into the water.

The rowboat returned to its doomed parent vessel, taking off two more loads and rushing them to the nearest vessel, but after that the ship had sunk before the ship could return for a third load. While the war galleys pulled back their rowboats went to work scouring the water for survivors.

Nonetheless from Viserys' point of view this assault was a success. The attention of the castle was entirely on the war galleys trying to make port, not on the trio of galleons that had moved around the island to the furthest portion of it from the castle and the port, slowly disembarking their troops throughout the night. By the time daylight gave anyone on the lookout from Dragonstone the ability to see that far, the ships had retreated back to the fleet, and House Uller's men, about 1,500 strong were ashore.

Ulwyck Uller grinned triumphantly, unaware of the losses the fleet had taken to get his men in position. "All right," he said looking at his knights, though the Dornish version were not knights as the rest of Westeros would see the term, they were simply slightly better armed and trained men who served as unit commanders. "Let's get a move on, I want us to be fully hidden before daylight comes."

The attack force was indeed able to succeed in hiding in small groups here and there scattered around the point of the island during the day. This area of the island was mostly uninhabited in any event, too rocky and too dreary even for the smallfolk of Dragonstone, so no one saw them there. The next night they began to make their way towards Dragonstone, reaching it just about as dawn began to creep over the sky. Moving over the rough, craggy and somewhat mountainous terrain of the island was difficult even for trained Dornishskirmishers.

But they ran into a problem as they neared Dragonstone. There was simply no place to hide beyond a single man here and there as they came closer to the castle. The area had been very carefully denuded of anything that could be used as cover for an attacking force, be it boulder, crag, or small brush.

Staring from a small crevasse he was hiding from, Uller grimaced. "I didn't realize there was so little cover, we won't be able to get any formed force near the walls. Still, we'll have to do what we can."He nodded two of his knights, the ones who were best at sneaking around. "Take a hundred men each, and lead them out there slowly."

"My Lord…" one of them said hesitantly looking up into the sky, "We're running out of night here."

"I know, trying to lay down covering fire on the wall won't be enough. Instead, we'll have to keep the attention of the attackers on us somewhere else. You lot head up the old abandoned volcano, then come down and assault the walls from 's got to be the weakest point of the castle, the walls there are shortest after all." Dragonstone was built on the side of the extinct volcano that had created the island in the first place, and dozens of tunnels led from the castle deep into the side of the volcano, allowing the castle to mine the dragonglass it was associated with.

The two men nodded somewhat dubiously, but moved off to relay their orders to the commands. Moving in groups of two and three they were able to scale the side of the volcano, moving slowly and hesitantly towards the castle that was now below them. They waited until they heard the sound of battle coming from below watching from a distance as arrows began to fly from both sides, and even some of the scorpions on the Castle got involved before they got moving again.

By that time however the sun was in the sky, a pale morning light shining on the dew all around. It made for very slippery going, with only lichen, moss, and a few hardy breeds of scrub brush here and there to soak it up. Moving even further towards the castle they had to stop several times waiting to see if they were noticed when one or the other lost his footing and crashed to the steep slope of the volcano. Even without having chain mail or anything else on them that could jangle, doing so still made a noticeable noise among the rocks of the volcano.

But with their black cloaks and black leggings the Dornish were able to blend into the background black of the volcanic rock all around them. Slowly they made their way towards the Castle, feeling very nervous as they entered bow range from its walls. They realized then that even here the walls were three stories tall, thick and forbidding.

Idly, one of the knights wondered if perhaps putting the archers up above the fort here would have been a better idea, but he realized it wouldn't have worked. For one thing, from what they had seen the towers at each corner of the wall were tall and well designed, which would negate any height advantage from being on the slope. Worse was the incline, which would have made it hard for archers to keep their footing and fire at the same time. Moreover there was no cover to be found on the mountainside, all of the archers would out in the open which would make their ability to shoot at the archers on the wall directly far less of an advantage.

And that doesn't even consider the number of siege weapons they have up there, the Dornishknight thought to himself, shaking his head as he heard the 'whump' of the catapults launching then a very distant splash. Evidently the ships had returned in an effort to take some of the attention of the defenders away from his assault.

By noon the two knights had safely reached the wall with some of their men then looked at one another as more and more of them came up. One hissed: "We wait until we have at least half our men against the wall, then we start throwing up the grapples."

His fellow commander nodded, fighting a sense of growing concern. Something wasn't right here. But as he couldn't put his finger on it, he didn't voice his worries, not wanting to seem like a coward in front of his fellows. Several moments later they nodded to the men who were holding grapples.

The grapples were tossed up, but almost immediately the castle above them, which had been silent so far responded teaching the two nights of valuable lesson: that just because defenders didn't respond to your approach didn't mean they didn't see you. It was a pity that neither man would have the chance to use that information. "Let them have it boys!"

From each of the towers on either side of the attack came dozens of arrows, and the men they had seen walking along the top of the wall went to work quickly on two closed top cauldrons, pulling off the heavy wooden tops to reveal slowly congealing pitch. But pitch was still flammable, and when it began to pour down over the men below the wall it was quickly ignited by a single fire arrow from one of the towers.

Both knights died screaming, and their men, both those near the wall and further away died. It was simply a matter of if they died from the pitch, or archer fire.

Elsewhere the battle was not going any better. With so little cover, Uller and his men were not doing at all well against the defenders, who were laying down a vicious aimed fire that had cut his men down to a third of his starting force. At last, hearing the screams from what had supposedly been a secret assault on the back of the castles Ullwyk ordered a retreat. The bedraggled and thoroughly beaten remnants retreated back the way they had come towards the tip of the island, under fire for quite a bit of its length by the scorpions that could clearly see them in the light of day, losing even more men.

OOOOOOO

Viserys had watched all this through a spyglass that Doran had given him, his hands clenching so hard on the metal to of it that his knuckles were showing white. "That plan seems to have failed." He said his voice a snarl that roused Balerion from where the dragon was sleeping behind him, only settling back when Viserys scratched it under its chin with a heavy wire brush.

"We will have to think of something else. Oh, but don't feed Balerion his midday meal." He smiled grimly, yet his eyes showed a certain hidden delight that made Arianne and the others who noticed it shudder. "A message has to be shown to the army about the price of failure."

OOOOOOO

"So you represent the Iron Bank? I can understand why you have come to see me my Lord," said Renly, moving from where a detailed map of the Crownlands was laid out on a field desk over to where several small cabinets of expensive wines sat in the corner of his tent. "May I trouble you to have a glass with me?"

One interrogative eyebrow rose as he looked at the man who his guards had allowed into the tent. He was the same Iron Bank representative that had talked to Cersei, though his head looked like it was in need of a shave, and his calm manner seemed somewhat in abeyance. His clothing was travel stained, but the iron and gold torque still hung from his neck down his chest.

"I understand you were sent from King's Landing to Duskendale in attempts to find my brother before coming back here to meet with me? That must've been a thirsty journey and a pointless one as well." Renly smiled thinly holding out a glass to the man who had not replied. "Though since my army had yet to arrive here I can at least understand the reasoning behind it."

That was truer than Renly knew. Not only was the Iron Bank representative unable to find Stannis at Duskendale, he couldn't find the older Baratheon brother's army in the field not having any contacts out in the countryside to enable him to find its trail. He had also been attacked by bandits once, losing two of his ten guards. "Thank you my Lord I believe I will." he murmured, reaching out for the wine and sipping appreciatively. It was good aged wine, with a hint of some kind of fruit to it that he couldn't quite place. "A magnificent vintage my Lord!"

"Thank you, I find the newest vintages coming from the Arbor to be quite exquisite, they've begun to import some kind of fruit from the Summer Island to add to it. It makes for a hint of a new taste to the wine. I hope that the Ironborn don't do too much damage to their vineyards before Garlan Tyrell can toss them out." Renly sighed, taking a last sip then set his glass down sharply on the field table, though calling it a field table was a misnomer. It was nothing like the tables used by Stannis or Ranma, simple folding affairs with leather for a top. This one was large and wooden, and could only be called a field table because it was slightly lighter than most normal desks. "But to business, I assume you are here to discuss the debt that my family incurred to you while my oldest brother was King, correct?"

That is promising the Iron Bank representative thought, nodding his head politely. "Indeed your Majesty," he said buttering the younger man up by using that title. "During his tenure as King, your brother Robert and his queen accumulated a debt to us of upwards of 1 and a 1/2 million crowns."

"Really?" said Renly leaning forward now slightly his eyes narrowing. "I had heard it given to a tune of 3 million at one point, before Lord Stark became Hand and began to work at offsetting it. Is that one and a half million crowns a solid number from your own books?"

"Yes your majesty. We have gone over our books exhaustively looking for any sign of falsified records and have found them to be clean."

Renly nodded thoughtfully, leaning back now. "Well, if that is indeed a solid number on your end, then all that remains is for the crown to make certain that it matches what we have on ours. Unfortunately," he smiled thinly waving his hand towards the tent flap and the city beyond. "I do not as a point of fact possess those books at the moment. The moment I do rest assured that one of the first tasks I will set myself to is going over them, and making certain that the totality of this debt can be proven. Needless to say if they cannot on our end, then I will see no need to pay you what you claim. If the Iron Throne actually did not receive the full monies that the Iron Bank agreed to lend, then it would fall upon whoever diverted those monies to pay off the debt."

"But surely you can see that no monetary fault could be accrued to the bank your Majesty." the man across from him exclaimed. "We can hardly be faulted for working with who we thought was a fully accredited representative of the Iron Throne."

"No of course not," Renly said calming him down slightly. "But neither would any debt accrued to the Iron Throne if the Iron Throne did not in point of fact ask for those monies. Instead it would be on the part of House Baelish to repay the debts."

The Iron Bank representative actually smiled thinly as Renly came out and said who they were talking about there. "And yet my Lord, is it not the place of the King and the Hand to know what their ministers are doing? That is the way it works in business after all, a manager can be called upon to right the wrongs or pay back the debts of his overseers."

"That would be true in the course of normal events of course." Renly said nodding his head solemnly. "However, let us be frank my Lord. My brother had no interest in actually ruling, he took the throne in the first place because he didn't want anyone else to have it and because Jon Arryn rather foolishly insisted he take it. And considering the fact that the man in question fooled you and your bank's local factors, how could someone without a head for business at all be expected to see through his lies?"

The Braavosi man scowled a little, unable to refute that. Indeed, the Iron Bank had carefully 'trimmed' some of its factors in King's Landing, hiding their deaths among the chaos of the siege since his last report. He had in fact set those deaths in motion before leaving the capital.

Around him some of the other Lords present frowned, in particular the Stormlands Lords. All of them had revered Robert to a certain degree, his ebullient personality, his sense of humor and above all his skill on the battlefield as a warrior and general was something that all of them looked up to. They looked at one another, wondering not for the first time if they had been correct in following the youngest Baratheon. Renly hadn't done anything yet to show he was worthy of the giant boots that Robert had left behind. Yet at the same time none of them could truly argue that the man hadn't really had a head for numbers, and not making an outright enemy of the Iron Bank or indebting them and their nation to said bank was a good thing.

"However." Renly said, magnanimous now as he knew that the man couldn't argue that point, at least not well. "If the Iron Throne's accounts meet our own I will agree on my name as Renly Baratheon to honor the payment plan that Lord Stark put in place before the start of hostilities. I'll go even further, and will say that we will pay off half of the debt immediately upon the surrender of the Lannisters from captured gold." That cheered up all the Lords around him immensely, as they dreamed of some of the same gold falling into their own pockets. "Will that suffice for you my Lord?"

The Iron Bank representative stared at him, then slowly nodded, thinking it might be the best offer they'd get. Stannis had still not been found, and he was loath to go in search of the man since he didn't think that Stannis would offer any better plan then Renly from the Iron Bank's point of view. He knew another agent had been sent to talk to the Stark youth and the dragon girl had found them, but not the outcome of that meeting. He was interested to see how that went and if he had met with Lord Tywin as he was supposed to do since the initial meeting between himself and the Queen and Joffrey had been unsatisfactory.

The two of them were due to meet up in Maidenpool. That town and its environs had not seen any combat as yet and it had a decent port which made it a good meeting place if they had to escape from Westeros quickly or had to meet with other representatives in person. It would also allow them to meet up with Viserys Targaryen, whose banner a factor had seen arrive in Dorne.

But there was still one way he could pressure Renly. "That will do nicely but the Iron Bank understands that accidents can happen in battle. Should a fire begin during your assault on the Red Keep or some other event occur that causes the destruction of the Iron Throne's ledgers, we will immediately call in the full debt we are owed by what our own books say."

Renly's was barely able to keep a scowl off his face at that, but nodded. "Of course."

"Would you be willing to put that in writing your Majesty? I am not disparaging your given word of course, but in these parlous times and given the problems that the former Master of Coin has caused for us, a written account with your seal and script on it would carry far more weight."

"Oh, of course." Renly said again, smiling thinly but allowing the man to have his little victory. Later he watched as the Iron Bank left the command tent frowning thoughtfully wondering how much of the Lannister gold he'd have to send to the Iron Bank rather than spend on his own projects. He had plans for that money, oh yes.

With a sigh he picked up his glass again turning back to the lords gathered around the map. "Staedmon, you had reports from your scouts to share?"

By your leave, your Majesty." The man said bowing his head and when Renly nodded, placing a few small stone markers down on the map. "My scouts have reported back and they say that if he continues at his present rate of march Stannis and his army will be in sight within five days rather than the two my last report indicated. Since he is marching overland rather than by road the rains have slowed him down but more importantly the army changed course slightly. They'll be coming down the northern embankment of the Blackwater rather than a somewhat straight route from Stokeworth."

"Interesting." Renly murmured, not seeing the point of that, nor did anyone else other than using the river to guard one of his flanks. That in itself was a good idea, but really not important enough to comment on.

"Your highness, I think we might have an opportunity here." Randyll Tarly spoke up. "We have already begun to consolidate some of our army once more from our siege positions around the capital. If we march out to meet Stannis we might be able to attack him on our own terms. We could encircle his army and use our numbers to pin him against the river."

Renly thought for a moment then shook his head. "No, I don't think so. For one thing, that would remove our best commanders from near enough to King's Landing to deal with any surprises from that direction. Furthermore, it would paint us as the aggressor, unless we stop to parlay, which would of course allow my brother more time to prepare. No, I am in no rush to be seen as a kinslayer, let the world see my brother attacking me, not the other way around."

Randyll scowled but nodded, not liking the idea of making a military decision based on propaganda and political needs. Though Renly had a good point on how marching out would remove him from being able to affect events around King's Landing.

"Very well my Lords." Renly said sighing deeply. "I would like us to go over our numbers once more and continue to reform the army here at the King's Gate." He sighed sadly shaking his head. "It is a sad day when brothers battle, but I will not allow Stannis to sit on the throne. He would ruin Westeros with his new religion and his cold, uncaring nature."

Around him the others all nodded, though most seemed to be rather ambivalent about the idea save for the uneasiness they all shared about Stannis' following this Red Witch. "My Lord Tarly," Renly went on, looking at him. "I believe you had some new ideas on how to pare down our cordon's numbers further?"

OOOOOOO

Lord Rupert Serret leaned back at his desk, massaging his forehead wearily. Going by the rumors and the growing examples of violence in the city that Petyr and the Master of Whispers had passed on it was evident that the news of the plague hadn't quite spread throughout the city yet, but it was only a matter of time. He had prepared orders for the defenders of the walls in the event of a general uprising, but he knew it would not be enough.

We might protect some of the walls and the towers leading up to them, but we're going to lose everything else. Thank the Father we already moved most of the remaining foodstuffs and consolidated our men. I hope that the High Septon doesn't try to argue with my men I sent this morning to escort him to the Red Keep. If he does I'm more than willing to leave him and his oh so Devout out there to the smallfolk's tender mercies.

Rupert shuddered a little shaking his head sadly as he stared out into the cloudy sky outside the Hand's Tower. We always seem to forget the smallfolk, or not forget but simply not take account of them in our plans. But when they are roused like this, you truly understand how many of them there are! Thousands have died in the recent weeks in various outbreaks of violence and riots against our men here and there in the city, casualties that would've broken any army I've ever heard of. But there are still hundreds of thousands left, more than enough to tear us all down, more than enough to even stack their bodies up against the walls of the Red Keep and just keep on coming if they had the willpower for it. Thankfully they're not a formed force, and they certainly won't be looking to get into the Red Keep, just away from the plague. But even that will be a problem for the defenders on the outer wall. And for the besiegers I suppose, but that's somewhat more doubtful.

The Hand's thoughts were interrupted as the door to his office opened without preamble, and Varys stepped inside, bowing his head slightly. "I apologize for this sudden intrusion my Lord Hand, however something has come to my attention. Indeed it came to my attention several weeks ago, however I wished to make certain of my findings before coming to you."

Serret sighed, leaning back and staring at the bald, not so fast anymore eunuch with scant favor. " And what exactly is this bad news you wish to discuss?"

"Lord Edmure Tully is dead my Lord." Serret sat up abruptly, staring at him in shock and rising concern. The Master of Whispers held up his hand, and then went on calmly. "He did not die because of neglect or simple starvation. Those at least would have been somewhat understandable given the straits we are in even here in the Red Keep. However, he did not die in that manner instead he was tortured to death, tortured in such a way that I have never seen before outside of my agents reports on the Vile One, a connection I made almost immediately upon hearing the manner in which Edmure died."

As Rupert began to slump back into his chair, his face showing shock and loathing now the other man went on. "It took me the intervening weeks to discover who had access to him, and how they had gained that access." He sighed sadly shaking his head. "Everything I have discovered points to Petyr Baelish having done the deed."

"What!?" Rupert bellowed, jumping to his feet and slamming his hands down on the desk in front of him, glaring at Varys angrily. "In the name of the Seven, why! This can only weaken the Lannister position!" But, his mind rather treacherously thought, Petyr has never been counted upon as a loyal ally, only a useful one. "No, I can answer that question at least, but what possible motive could he do for going to that extreme?"

"That took some digging my Lord." Or rather fabrication Varys thought to himself smirking. The Lannister's own spies even in the Red Keep were now almost nonexistent, mostly concentrated on protecting their family from poisons and other dangers, and they would not be able to confirm or deny anything Varys passed on from his own 'agents'. "Apparently he has been in communication with House Martell of Dorne, and they wished Edmure to die to lay it at the Lannister feet. A prisoner such as Edmure dying in your care after all will be large mark against the Lannister name, and will certainly push Riverrun and House Tully into Stark's arms, further destabilizing Westeros."

"I doubt Petyr would have gone through with it would if he thought that his own position was made stronger staying allied with house Lannister. But the news out of the Riverlands about Tywin having been forced into retreat must have changed his mind."

"That still doesn't say why he went to such extremes as you have said he did." Rupert said quickly. "Killing him fine, I could even see that, but torture?"

"For that you would have to look into their personal histories my Lord. Did you know that Petyr was a ward at Riverrun when he was younger? And he apparently fought a duel with Brandon Stark?" Rupert shrugged, not having heard this story before, and the eunuch went on. "The duel was over Catelyn Tully's hand, apparently Petyr was quite enamored with her when he was younger."

That Rupert could well believe. He had seen Catelyn Tully time or two before Robert's Rebellion, and even now she was marked as a great beauty. Not quite up to Margaery or Cersei's level, but still a very beautiful woman.

"In any event Edmure had apparently threatened to geld Petyr if he ever even looked at his sister that way again, and might have said things along similar lines to Petyr and his men when they came to kill him. Beyond that, I have also found evidence that would link Petyr to the rumors of the Vile one. My agents have reported that at least six times when there was a Vile One attack found Petyr was not seen in his rooms or quarters the night prior."

"Not all of them?"

"My Lord, my agents are merely human." Varys said reproachfully. "And Petyr is a guileful and cunning opponent. That we were able to figure out that he was not where he was supposed to be six times is in itself a minor miracle."

"And one of your agents spotted him entering the prison?" Rupert asked skeptically.

"Yes, though unfortunately the man himself has left the keep, which was why it took me so long to connect all the dots. I had to organize a method of getting information to me that would not force me to leave the keep or allow him to reenter it."

That made sense Rupert thought to himself then nodded decisively. "If you have evidence and witnesses Varys, that's enough for me to at least act." With that he stood up striding around his table and towards the door. Opening it, he barked orders to the guard outside. "Timon, gather twenty men and tell them to meet me inthe courtyard." With that taken care of he turned back. "Now, Varys, tell me more about this evidence, then I'm going to want to question two of your witnesses on Petyr's nighttime movements."

OOOOOOO

Petyr actually had more eyes than even Varys knew about in the Red Keep. That was how he was able to find out within moments of the discussion starting that Varys was going to sell him out. The length of that discussion led to Petyr having a small head start, and he used it as best he could.

I suppose I could fight this, and possibly even win considering I have a lot of evidence to show that Varys has been screening what he tells the queen and the Hand, and with Joffrey's backing me I might win. Yet that backing is not as certain as I would like, I gained influence with the boy but no control over him, aiding his acts of sadism. And frankly if what my spies have said about the Northern host being seen in Harroway is accurate it was becoming time to leave the Lannister side of this war anyway.

With that in mind, Petyr turned to his personal bodyguard, Osmund Kettleblack, the oldest of three brothers of that family who owed their allegiance to him. "Gather your brothers, your father and Lothor, we're leaving."

Osmund looked at him askance. "You think the plague is going to be able to get over the walls?" He and the others had just found out about the plague a few days prior.

"I don't know and I don't care." Petyr replied bluntly. "My position here is no longer worth fighting over. It is time for us to head to greener pastures."

"I'm not interested in fighting an entire army." Said Osfrey Kettleblack, coming in from his position guarding the door at his brothers summons, looking at Petyr sternly. These were bought men, and they would follow him willingly, but taking on impossible odds like that wasn't in their nature.

"Don't worry." Petyr said smiling thinly. "I'll get us through the siege lines, you just get us there if we run into trouble."

Osmund nodded, and soon enough the six men left, none of the Kettleblacks caring overmuch about what happened to the armsmen they were leaving behind. With Petyr leading they made their way through the holdfast down into the kitchen where Petyr opened a secret passage set behind a large cupboard, pushing at a small piece of filigree on the direct top of it to open the passage. The men had to crawl for a few moments, but soon they were out into the catacombs, the warren of secret tunnels and passages that Maegor the Cruel had designed just in case he needed to escape the keep that he had commissioned. Petyr had spend years exploring them, and felt he knew them better than nearly anyone else alive, save perhaps Varys, who had served as Master of Whispers for two kings.

They moved silently, pausing often to listen. Petyr switched off with Lothor Brune, his paid sellsword, who was the best at sneaking around unseen of his bought men. Following Petyr's whispered instructions he made his way down the indicated tunnel, leaving behind the torchlight Petyr and his servant the Kettleblack patriarch held.

Several moments later Lothor came back, nodding his head grimly as he came into the torchlight, holding up four fingers, then slowly running his thumb across his throat. Osmund and his two brothers nodded agreement, pulling out small knives, there blades darkened with soot as not to reflect light. Then they moved forward after Lothor.

Petyr and Oswell waited silently, and moments later heard a faint, choked off cry and two gurgles, followed by the sound of steel on steel and a cry of, "Over here, they're over he-gaah!" That cut off in a pained scream that ended quickly.

"Stranger take them!" Petyr groaned, hurrying forward with Oswell moving after the younger man as fast as he could. They found the man's three sons and Lothor standing over three bodies, armsmen of House Stokeworth, and a servant that Petyr recognized as one of Varys' spies. Osney was nursing a deep cut on his forearm, his older brothers already beginning to bandage it.

"The young fool was assigned the servant which should have been the soft option, but he must have made some kind of noise that warned them about our approach." Lothor reported, staring at the youngest Kettleblack disdainfully. The only one of the brothers worth anything in his opinion was the oldest, the other two were not nearly as skilled.

"I did no such thing!" Osney retorted, wincing as his brothers finished bandaging his arm. "And you were the one who missed the fact he had a knife, this arm of mine is your damn fault Brune!"

"Enough! It matters not at all who allowed the alarm to be sounded, we need to move!" Petyr growled out. "If Varys knows enough of the escape route to post men here, he might have sent other men down here. We need to move, now, and quietly!"

With Petyr leading them unerringly through the catacombs the six men made their way through the tunnels, past piles dragon bones thrown down here after the keep was taken by Robert in his war. Sometimes they had to crawl, sometimes they were able to run along, but finally they came to a small, carefully hidden door.

This opened out onto a small hidden trail that slopped along the cliff face that led along the seawall behind the Red Keep and down into the slums there. The trail was practically invisible from anyone above or outside it, leading down toward the slums. With Petyr still leading they all made their way down the cliff, then out into the ruined slums and beyond.

Moving through those slums, which were still intact for the most part though empty, they soon moved into the slums around the Iron Gate. The same slums that had been the sight of the wildfire started by Lord Harte. By the time they reached it night had long since fallen, which aided their speed, as did the full moon shining overhead.

Entering a small hovel at the outer edge of the slum which had survived the fire, they came upon 12 men wearing various Reach House colors. They were all levy armsmen, peasant archers and smallfolk who had probably been conscripted by their betters at the start of hostilities.

The Reach men stood up quickly, some of them drawing back arrows on bows as Petyr lead the others into the hovel. "Peace!" he hissed, one palm holding out a gold coin. "I'm Littlefinger, one of my men gave you some gold coin to let us through. And there is far more where that came from."

One of the men came forward, opening up a thieves lantern to shine its light into the faces of the five newcomers, while one of the others, a somewhat more clean-shaven and younger fellow than the others, followed, nodding slowly one after another. Finally the man with the lantern nodded "Yer don't seem to hav' the coughin' bloods, but don't any of you try to touch us e'en so! We'll be talkin' business now, before we' do anything. Yer man promised a 'undred gold dragons each for letting you through!"

"Twenty now, and the remaining eighty when we have passed through the your armies lines." Petyr said sharply. "That was the agreed upon price." The men grumbled, and Petyr sensing that they were bulking at the last moment wheedled "I can go as high as forty now and an extra hundred later to be split between you beyond the agreed hundred."

Lothor's fingers twitched as he fought not to reach for his longsword, the bows some of these fellows had might be pointing down, but they had also moved back away from the newcomers. He hoped that these men had more loyalty to one another, or at least more stupidity than most sellswords did. Sellswords would have realized Petyr was carrying the gold they had promised then realized that they both outnumbered his men, and that the fewer allies they had to share with, the greater their own cut of the prize. Though I suppose the plague might scare them too much to try and loot our bodies.

At Petyr's offer greed finally won out over caution, and the man in charge nodded his head. "We'll wait 'ere until our shifts done, that's another two moves o' the moon, then we'll head back to our lines. After that, it's up to you an' yers to get away."

Petyr nodded, and the two groups waited tensely, with Petyr and his men waiting outside the small hovel. A few hours later, the Reach men began to lead Petyr and his men out of the slums towards the encircling army's lines. That was the most nervous moment, when they might have been sighted from both the capital's wall and from the surrounding army, but nothing happened. Soon enough they were back among the forces guarding the road out from King's Landing towards Castle Rosby.

Petyr found to his surprise that they were able to pass through relatively unchallenged. This area was controlled by House Florent, and Alekyne wasn't the most energetic commander, an attitude that had spread to his men in the easy life of the siege forts. They were halted twice by guards who had seen them coming, but the man in charge of the group they had met in the slums had the proper passwords, and none of these men could count or had indeed noticed how large the group had been when they left earlier that evening.

Once they passed the guard posts they entered the small camp, and Petyr began to hand out the money. At the same time he whispered out of the corner of his mouth "Secure us some horses Lothor, we have a ways to go before I want to stop and we're running out of night."

As the money was passed over there was a moment where the Reach men looked as if they were ready to attack to see what else Petyr could give them, but with the Kettleblacks already standing with swords out they all decided against it. The leader simply nodded one last time at Petyr, then moved off through the tents followed by his men.

Soon enough Petyr and his men had horses, taken from Florent's own herd. They moved far enough back of the camp to no longer be heard, then mounted their horses and raced hell for leather away from King's Landing and the Reach/Stormlands army. "Where are we going milord?" Oswell asked.

"There is a small cove near Castle Rosby, I have a on retainer by the name of Mikon who should be there. And then from there." Petyr shrugged, thinking about some of the news that had recently come to his attention. "From there we'll see. Either the Vale or some other destination will avail itself." He chuckled slightly at his own turn of phrase, then rolled his eyes as none of the other men noticed, then fell silent spurring his horse on through the night.

OOOOOOO

Willas ducked behind a chimney while an arrow flashed towards where he had previously been standing. "They have several good archers over there." he commented almost conversationally, staring over at the men he shared this particular roof with.

Most of them chuckled. One however didn't bother replying verbally at first, instead sticking his bow lengthways over the roof and firing an arrow back in return. "So do we, look my Lord." he said then as a scream resounded from the archers lined up behind the advancing Westerlands mercenaries.

After leaving Old Oak with his reinforcements Willas had done everything he could do to convince the raiders pursuing him that he had not been reinforced. For one thing, he sent the majority of his heavy cavalry southwest under Ser Graceford along with all of the archers that Lady Oakheart had given him, skirting around the areas that had already been despoiled by the raiders. Then Willas marched out with most of the rest of his men to meet them in the open field.

From the beginning he had decided to give up land for lives, retreating after a series of small skirmishes that seemingly cost him more than they did the enemy. This ruse was caused by Willas sending off very small forces of light cavalry north and west after each battle while he and his force continued to retreat southeast. Those forces were under the command of some of his better men chosen by himself and Toulev, and they would reform further up the Silver River. From there they would follow its course down to either interdict any further Westerlands reinforcements from coming across the river or simply march down its western bank to rejoin the battle at the town that Willas had designated his target when coming up with this campaign.

The town in question had been evacuated long since. Willas had chosen it because most of the buildings in it had been made of stone from a nearby quarry, the same quarry that supplied several of the castles nearby with their stone. It had stood there since the time of the Gardener Kings and had been designed to be defensible even after its outer wall had been torn down to make more room.

Cautiously sticking his head over the side of the rooftop Willas stared at where the raiding force was forming up to assault the town. There looked to be around 3000, maybe 3,500 or so if you added in the archers. Most of them looked like mercenaries of some kind, a single unit from what he could see, along with some forces from House Turnberry and surprisingly a few Prester men with a number of men from House Swyft of Cornfield. "Always did find that a asinine name for a castle, and as to their banner…" Willas shook his head falling silent. Because at that moment he noticed that the three black dogs on yellow of house Clegane was still visible on clumps of men here and there among the raiders.

Seeing that hated symbol Willas snarled and backed away from the small slope of the roof. He moved over to stare down into the streets all around, where his own infantry waited, formed into separate units ordered to guard the houses where their archers were stationed. "Men of House Tyrell, men of the Reach, I speak as heir to your Lord Paramount, and I say this: No quarter will be given this day, no quarter for the butchers, no quarter for the rapists that have despoiled our lands! In the name of the Father, slaughter them all!"

He was answered with a roar, and the infantrymen rushed out to take their places near the outer edge of the town, blocking the attackers from moving further into the town. One man standing with Willas waved a black flag in the air, and archers appeared all along the other roofs facing the attackers. A vicious archer duel began as the Westerlands infantry and cavalry charged into the town, where they slammed into the waiting shield walls with a clang.

Willas gripped his sword tightly, fighting a powerful urge to make his way down there and fight himself, but at this point doing so would be foolish. Those attackers were finished the moment they tried to invest the town, even if they didn't know it. Getting himself killed in the final battle of this campaign would be foolish in the extreme. That doesn't mean I can't take part at all however he thought to himself moving to pick up a bow and quiver. I might not be the shot my sister and brothers are, but I'm decent enough.

The battle continued for the next 15 minutes. The attackers tried to hammer their way into the town, while the archers kept their own archers at bay for now while also killing dozens of the infantry. Then, just as Willas was wondering if the runner he had sent to find Ser Graceford in the morning hadn't arrived, he began to see the glint of light on raised lances coming from beyond where the enemy archers had hunkered down outside of the town.

Their defenses were hay bales, a few overturned carts here and there, and the ruins of four farmsteads. Not enough to defend themselves from the light cavalry that road them into the ground a moment later. Their shrieks and screams of fear caught the attention of their fellows who were trying to battle into the town, and most of the light cavalry and even some of the heavy cavalry that had been trying to make their way into the town turned, trying to race after the light cavalry that had just written down their own archers.

The entire attack on the town broke off as the mercenaries and Westeros land arms been retreated in small pockets and clumps to try and chase down the light cavalry.

But then from the southwest came the heavy cavalry that Willas had broken off at Old Oak, with the men of House Graceford in the lead. "Work Her Will!" They hit the disorganized clump of raiders that had fallen back from the town, shattering it further. All around Willas the archers were having a field day now not having to worry about their opposite numbers they were simply slaughtering the poorly armored infantry down there as well as the remains of their light cavalry.

Willas pulled back his own bow aiding his own arrows to the storm, bellowing "Press them Toulev!"

From down below came in answering roar. "Aye my Lord!" From the center of the town came the reserves, the other half of the heavy infantry that Willas had been husbanding for this battle. Moving out all around the town and racing forward to envelop the enemy while his levy forces, armed with long spears for the most part moved to help hold the lines leading into the town.

"The Reach and no quarter!" Was the warcry taken up by every throat out there as Willas' men began to pay back the raiders for all of their fell deeds since crossing the border. Knowing the battle was lost the man holding up the banner of the House Prester began to shout for quarter, only to be silenced as an arrow found his eye through his helmet. He and his banner fell from the saddle.

When the men around him saw this, what had been a battle became a rout as the raiders last vestige of discipline broke. By the end of the day not one of them was alive, rundown and sabered by the light cavalry. .

As the unit commanders saw to the execution of the enemy wounded and to the aid of their own, Willas met with his officers in the former mayor's office of the town. "We will rest here for a day no more." Willas said simply, gesturing at the map laid out on the table between them. "I'm going to send a messenger to Old Oak to tell Lady Oakheart that the battle has been won, and where to send supplies, particularly arrows."

The leader of the archers, a common born man who was ill at ease in the company of Lords nodded thankfully and Willas nodded back before going on. "Then we will march up to Red Lake, where will hopefully be able to pick up more men."

"Will we make for Crakehall or Clegane castle after that my Lord" said one of the nights. "The Crakehall land is richer, but we'll face sterner opposition as well."

Willas stabbed the map where it marked castleClegane angrily. "No! The forces that ravaged the lands of Kidwell, Rowan, Inchfield and Redding came from House Clegane originally. I think it is high time that that pestilential place was burned to the ground. By this time next month my Lords, I want the three dogs on a yellow background to be only a dark memory. After that, we will do the same thing to House Swyft, and then move further if we can."

OOOOOOO

Garlan looked up in shock as Margaery entered the office he had commandeered, moving around the desk quickly and enveloping her in a tight hug. "Margaery! Are you, are you well?" he asked pulling back to look into her face. He tried not to wince when he saw the bruise on her throat once more. It was an ugly black and blue thing, done apparently by the Victarion Greyjoy, who had been in charge of the attack here. Luckily it would heal, if slowly.

He was still shocked to have learned however that it had been Margaery's knife found in the man's eye. Say what you wanted about his morals or ability to think, but he had been a feared warrior. The fact that he had died to Margaery, a young woman with a little to no training was both astonishing and rather amusing. The tale of that had already spread to the bards among his men, and they were already trying to come up with a song about 'The Rose and the Kraken', and Margaery's standing with the smallfolk, which had been already incredibly high had risen to new heights.

But Margaery herself had fallen into a funk after the battle ended. The healer who had examined her said it wasn't anything physical, it was simply a mental shock. The healer seemed to think it was because she had killed someone, but Garlan was inclined to think it was because of that and Ser Igon Vyrwel's death.

Garlan understood that. He would miss the man as well, he had been a fixture in their lives when they were younger. It was also only Ser Igon's skill as a commander, something he had actually never proven before in his life, and as a swordsman that had allowed Margaery's gamble to succeed. And even then it was a damn close thing.

The Ironborn attacked in a much more organized manner than they've ever shown before, and from several directions at once. Something we won't have to worry about from now on with Victarion dead. Yet if I hadn't arrived when I did… Garlan shuddered to think of what would've happened to his sister and to Highgarden itself after.

"I am as well as could be expected, brother." Margaery replied in a soft breathy tone that showed that she was still having trouble speaking thanks to the wound to her throat. She turned in Garlan's arms looking around at the gathered lords and knights, all of whom had risen respectfully when she entered. "My Lords." They all murmured greetings, and there was more than one young Lord among them who looked at Margaery as if they had become newly smitten by her, and it wasn't just because of her looks any longer. The courage she had shown here had impacted them just as much is the smallfolk.

It was a Seven-sent miracle that we arrived when we did, Garlan thought not for the first time while he led his sister to a seat which one of the younger knights had already vacated hastily for her. That was actually a rumor among the men, that it really was a miracle. Many of them had even pointed to six instances along their route where they were aided by strange occurrences.

Garlan hadn't heard them all, but knew two of them. The Mander was deep and navigable for most of its route, but there were a few places where there should have been rocks or eddies that would've made their going much slower. They hadn't run into any, even in places where they should have been going by the map and the barge masters. Moreover, while the army was rained upon a few times, the wind was always with them, pushing them further down the Mander.

But the most bizarre moment came when they were forced to stop for supplies, and a local septon had enough supplies on hand to donate to the army to speed it on its way. The septon, who acted both as septon and mayor of that small village had reported that they had a truly bountiful harvest come in, one that allowed them to supply the army with enough bread and other foodstuffs to see them on their way easily. That despite rumors saying they had already taken in their last crop and had actually seeded the fields again only a week prior.

That was a miracle, the only one that Garlan could point to and say that it unexplainable through normal means. But weren't Seven-sent miracles supposed to come in sevens? Where were the others? Or, if you believed what the soldiers were saying the final miracle?

No one knew about the miraculous arrow that had slain the messenger Victarion had tried to send to his archer-laden galleys. If they had received that order, the archers would've transferred to the walls of Oldflowers. That would've made Garlan taking the castle back from the Ironborn far more costly, or possibly impossible given the lack of grapnels or siege equipment among Garlan's men.

Margaery captured Garlan's hand in both of hers as he made to pull away after seeing her, grasping it firmly and raising it to her forehead looking up at him. "It was your arrival that saved us, saved me and this castle." she said looking from him and then all around at the others. "I cannot remember much from the last few days, and I need to say this now in case I have not already. Thank you for your service, for your sacrifice and for the rescue."

"T'was our duty lady." said one of the knights from Hightower. He looked a little embarrassed at the emotion that Margaery was able to put in those words despite their low tones.

Margaery nodded then almost visibly changed gears, looking up at Garlan. "With the Shield Islands and the Arbor still in the Ironborn's possession, you can't leave many men here to guard Oldflowers and myself. So if you are thinking of doing so desist now."

Despite the fact she sounded like she was gargling rocks there was some of the old fire in Margaery's voice again, and Garland was not the only one to smile at hearing it. "I will leave you a force of 800 or so here sister, along with the wounded, which amounts to another 600. But the rest of my men are almost ready to go. We're just getting all our ducks in a row."

Margaery cocked her head quizzically and Gunthor Hightower spoke up. "We need to get to Oldtown to meet with the remaining Redwyne navy my lady, and first we have to decide if we're going to march overland down the Rose Road there, or continue to take the barges further down the Mander before marching overland to Brightwater Keep. From there we could take the Honeywine down to Oldtown."

"Has Lord Florent suddenly become an excellent organizer when I wasn't looking?" Margaery replied tartly, shaking her head. "Even at the best of times that man isn't the most capable, so unless you gave him quite a lot of time to prepare your new barges, I think you would be sorely disappointed. Surely you were not thinking of, what is the word for carrying your own barges overland? Portaging? That would slow you down tremendously, adding weeks to your journey, weeks which the Ironborn would continue to reave upon the Shield Islands and the Arbor. I shudder to think what is occurring there under Greyjoy dominion."

"You're not the only one my lady." said Lord Blackbar. Margaery remembered that before the war began he had been trying to organize a marriage between his young son and one of the Redwyne nieces.

Margaery nodded at him, then turned back to Garlan. "Moreover, you would be placing yourself into House Florent's hands. "Not a good idea considering the fact that Stannis Baratheon, who last time I checked is one of Renly's enemies, was married into that family."

"Surely you don't think they'd do anything my lady?" said in another one of the knights, a Bulwer she thought. "Lord Tyrell would never forgive such."

"I think that Alester Florent will strike out for the main chance, whatever will enrich him and his House personally. You do not sit at my grandmother's knees for as long as I have without learning politics and how an individual's desires can drive him, my lords. House Florent has long chafed under House Tyrell rule, much like others have under their major Houses." she said looking over at Gunthor who smiled equably not saying anything though both of them knew what she was talking about and specifically why Cuy and Mullendore had no knights or household members representing them here.

"So it's overland down the Rose Road," Garlan said, bring the conversation back to military matters, where he was much more comfortable. "That will take us probably a month alas, the road is in excellent condition, but the season is against us if we want to arrive with our men in any shape to continue the campaign." From there the men turned to the task of organizing where along the route the local lords should prepare supplies for them, while Margaery began to prepare notes that would be sent to those houses.

OOOOOOO

Victarion Greyjoy's death and the decimation of his assault force were not the only bad news on the horizon for the Ironborn, though even that had yet to reach back to the Shield Islands. And even when they did learn of it, few would recognize it for the major loss it truly was. Even his brother Balon, when he learned of it, would not realize what Victarion's death really meant. The Ironborn did not take to discipline well, and did not really understand the need of it, so his death would not have much of an impact. To the northwest however another threat was looming which would not threaten the Ironborn fleets, but the islands they called home and with them, their very way of life.

The Lannister fleet, composed of thirty-four war galleys each of which was armed with four scorpions and fully manned, was leaving Lannisport. They also had six trade cogs with them, full of men but also with weapons and armor to supply even more, the output of every blacksmith in the city and within 20 leagues of it.

Kevan Lannister watched them go from the Rock, frowning thoughtfully as the ships began their journey. Personally, Kevan had wanted to split the fleet, leaving two/thirds here to guard their home waters and sending the rest with an invasion force to the Shield Islands. However when reports of the strength of the Ironborn Fleet in those islands had gotten back to him, he had decided to send an invasion force into the Iron Islands instead.

If he had known about Greyjoy's death of course that would have impacted his thinking. But while news could travel fast, it certainly couldn't travel that fast and news of his death hadn't even become common knowledge in the area beyond the Mander, yet let alone reached the ears of any of the other players in this war. Of course that wasn't the only news that had not reached Kevan Lannister, news of the disaster in the Riverlands hadn't reached even the Golden Tooth yet. The maester in charge of looking after the ravens for Tywin's army had died during Wendel's raid on his camp, and Tywin had no time or ability to send any messages when he got back to the Kneeling Man's Ford.

Putting Addam in charge of the invasion force was simple enough, though I am not so sanguine about Lord Prester being in charge of the fleet portion. I hope my idea of arming the thralls in the Iron Islands works. From what I can remember of the last campaign against the Ironborn it might, at least on most of the islands. That could be a major force multiplier to our invasion force, but we were only able to send 3000 men along with the fleet. And even that badly eroded our reserve here in the lands nearest Lannisport.

In fact that only left Kevan with about 700 men to guard the Rock, which would be more than enough given its natural defenses, and another thousand to guard the city alongside the city watch. That might not be enough if they were somehow attacked while the fleet was away. Still for now it seems as if my brother's idea of keeping everyone else on the defensive is working for us.

In the days to come, as winter closed in, Kevan would remember that thought and shake his head at how foolish he had been.

OOOOOOO

Of course, some events had been put in motion long before the campaign in the Riverlands reached its zenith, only to culminate in decisions being made now.

"Stranger damn you all, we have to get the word out! The Black candles are burning again, every single one of them! We all know what that means! Whatever you think of magic, my fellow archmaesters, we have a duty to tell all of Westeros that magic has returned! And you all know that might not be the worst of it either! You've put a decision on this matter off long enough, now I demand a response, else I will see to our duty alone!" The man who spoke thus was short with, huge, powerful hands and a large beer belly, a nose that had been broken many times in the past, coupled with a thick neck and a strong jaw.

Yet for all that he looked like someone who spent most of his time moving from alehouse to back alley wrestling matches, he wore the multi-linked chain of a maester, along with the ring and the rod of a Archmaester, but unlike any other of that order, his were made of Valyrian steel, signifying that he studied and was seen as a master in magic. Considering how magic was looked down upon in the Citadel, that made this man very much an outsider among his fellows.

Something one of the other Archmaesters around him in the conclave was very quick to point out. "Yes, yes, we know the old stories Marwyn, but a candle burning is hardly proof that magic has returned." Archmaester Vaellyn was a master of astrology in the Citadel, rarely leaving it's environs and disparaging of anything that went against the logic and mathematics that were central to his philosophy.

"True, but even so our duty is clear." Said Perestan, the historian. He didn't look happy about the thought, simply grave. "As part of our ancient covenant we need to send messages to the Lords Paramount and King's Landing that magic has returned, and with it, with it…." He paused, unable to say the words.

"The Others, the White Walkers, the ancient creatures of Endless Winter!" Marwyn growled out. "Saying their names won't call them into being or make them stronger, that's not among their powers. What is known about those is bad enough! And from last report I saw, the Wall's strength is at its lowest ebb in history!"

"That's actually not true any longer." Another Archmaester whose name and face Marwyn didn't recognize offhand said in a thoughtful tone. A tone, moreover which hinted at a northern accent. "I received word several months ago that there were reports of a King Beyond the Wall rising, and that many of the Northern houses had sent meant to the wall. In fact, I think the Wall is stronger than it has been for centuries now."

The maesters did not actually have a real spy network in most of Westeros, relying instead on the maesters themselves, situated as they were as advisors and healers in practically every important castle or keep on the continent. They did have one in Essos, but it's penetration of that land varied widely from city to city. Few of those maesters of course knew about the politics of the masters of the order, but talking to one another and asking advice or generally keeping in touch allowed the maesters to gather a lot of information.

There were exceptions of course. Many maesters outside the Citadel played the game of politics for their family's sake rather than the Citadel's, and then there were those who simply didn't communicate with the Citadel, like Luwin in Winterfell. That particular lack was the most irritating at the moment, considering they had received news about the massive amounts of steel coming out of Winterfell, coupled with other changes to the status quo.

But the Archmaesters had something more important than new ways to transport goods or create steel on their minds at present. "Then we don't have to worry about these mystical 'Others' at all, now do we? We will still send the messages Marwyn, but frankly I don't think they'll be believed at this point, the Lords Paramount have more important things on their minds." Another Archmaester said dismissively. "But the return of magic means something else, those rumors of dragons are possibly more accurate than we would like to think."

There was a moment of silence there among the highest Archmaesters of the Citadel, yet despite no words being spoken there was a lot of information exchanged in those few moments. No one but the highest members of the order, which, amusingly enough did not include the Grand Maester sent to King's Landing, knew the secrets these men were privy to. Even Marwyn, who was a not well-thought-of addition to this council, didn't know everything.

He knew that the Citadel had been destroying or hiding away any knowledge of magic they could get their hands on for centuries. Magic struck at the very foundations of what most maesters believed in, that the world was understandable and that nothing existed that could not be explained through logic and observation.

That was bad enough. Destroying knowledge because you didn't like what it said struck at the very heart of what he felt the order of Maesters should be. Worse it left the majority of maesters woefully unprepared to analyze or combat it now that magic had returned. Marwyn had done his best, but he knew they were woefully ignorant of many of the powers that magic could bestow on its users.

What Marwyn did not know, and never would if most of this council had their way, was that the maesters had long since taken that a step further. They had… helped the dragons disappear starting 270 years ago, having connected their existence to magic long before that. They had been in a silent war with the various orders of magic in Essos for centuries, and had been winning that war with the decline of their various powers.

Now most of the Archmaesters around the room were wearily certain that they were going to face a reversal of their fortunes there. But they would be damned if magic once again gained a toehold in Westeros. "I think sending a maester as an overture to this Stark-Targaryen union we've heard about might be a good idea. As for the other dragon reported, we'll have to wait until this Viserys and his forces make landfall somewhere and make plans from there." Said one of them, his face hidden in the shadow of the council room.

With Marwyn and a few others there who were not aware of the anti-magic conspiracy's full remit that was all that could be said aloud. It made it sound as if the maester would be their liaison with the Stark-Targaryen alliance, rather than their agent, and possibly assassin if need be. None of them realized they had already said too much, and Marwyn's beady eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

The discussion continued, trying to decide what to do and what information they had to send to the Lords Paramount, though many there were doubtful any of them would care over much. There was a war on after all.

The next day a maester specializing in healing had been chosen to send to Maidenpool, from where he could make his way to the Stark-Targaryen army. It would take a solid month and a half of travel by sea in autumn, but even so it would be much faster, and possibly safer than traveling by him the maester took twenty men from the citadel's security force, a band of semi-mercenary men who served as guards for Citadel and for maesters when they went into dangerous territories. He also brought along a few students, mainly to make his life somewhat easier.

The master healer didn't realize that one of them, whose name was Alleras, had worked with Archmaester Marwyn a time or two. Or that he had been assigned punishment duty that placed him near the Archmaester's quarters the previous evening.

OOOOOOO

Stannis had finally allowed Melisandre to sacrifice the old septon, though he had insisted that it be in a duplicitous way that could in no way be linked back to her. A little bit of slow acting poison in his food one evening saw to that. The few maesters with the army examined him the next day and declared that his heart had finally given out on him. No one saw Melisandre enter the septon's tent, which had been given to him out of respect despite his prisoner status, and no one saw her leave as well.

If anyone had, they might have noticed that she was holding one hand up to hold her cloak tight against her neck to keep the large ruby fit into her gold choker from showing. And if someone was standing close enough and had good enough eyes, they might have seen just a small flicker of light under her fingers.

That light had faded noticeably however by the time Melisandre got back to her own tent, and she swiftly divested herself of her clothing before moving to kneel in front of the living flame that was burning brightly in a small fire pit set into the middle of her tent. Even as she did so Melisandre cursed volubly. She was able to get a little bit of power from the old man's death, but not nearly as much as she had hoped, and it had begun to fade immediately after extraction.

Yet even so, it gave her a slight boost in her attempt to see through the skein of the present to what events were occurring elsewhere. After about 40 minutes Melisandre was able to see scenes what was going on elsewhere, battle and war everywhere she looked. Yet the images were so disjointed and the places so unfamiliar she wasn't really getting any prevalent information out of them. The old man's life essence was seeping away faster than she could hold on to it, and she was only able to stay in the meditative trance with difficulty, by the end of which she was despairing at getting any accurate information.

Then the images of battles gave way suddenly, to be replaced by a series of images that were obviously simply metaphors for events happening elsewhere. A lion gutted, his throat torn out by a wolf standing like a man. A series of small fish trying to nibble and bite at what looked like some kind of thorny rose hovering in the water, yet dying in the attempt. A fleet setting sail from a port, with nothing visible that Melisandre could use to see what port it was. A fleet led by men who were not normal, made out of iron and hollow bits and pieces where their souls should be, while men made of roses but with thorns of steel were preparing to attack them from the South. A snake slithering up a compass etched into the ground showing it coming from the south, the ground behind its passage becoming dead and black with poison. A dragon circling a tower she recognized having lived there for several months. It was black and fell to look upon, and as the eye of the vision drew closer Melisandre could see its eyes gleamed with madness. Though if the madness was its own, or its rider was something that Melisandre could not say with any certainty.

With that the images ended, and suddenly Melisandre was back in her own body, shaking her head and wincing occasionally at the burning at her throat. The gem at her throat was red hot to the touch, and it had burned her throat slightly but she knew she would heal, this wasn't the first time that had happened. After a few moments spent recovering and thinking, Melisandre pushed herself to her feet, to go in search of Stannis.

Leaving her tent she passed a few of her new acolytes who rose to their feet, looking at her adoringly. These were the women who she had saved in Stokeworth. Ever since taking them into her service, Melisandre had preached to them about the glory of R'hllor, and much like Selyse back on Dragonstone they had all fallen into her power, giving all of themselves to R'hllor, which was as it should be. She had plans for them in the near future, but not right now. She waved them back to their places, entering Stannis' tent.

"With the Blackwater on our right flank and with the rains we've been running into, we might have the opportunity to set a small trap for the Reach heavy cavalry that they love so much." Stannis was saying as Melisandre entered the tent, the guards outside not having bothered to announce her. Inside Stannis was going over some contingency plans for the upcoming battle if he could not convince his brother to give over. Personally Stannis didn't think that would ever happen, Renly was always a grasping boy and thanks to Robert's favoritism he had never been broken of the habit. But for the blood they shared Stannis was going to try anyway.

All of his commanders and lords were nodding grimly. They knew the upcoming battle would be hard, but they had been in several fights already, which had done wonders for the morale of the army. They might be outnumbered, though it was difficult to estimate what portions of the army Renly would be willing to pull off the cordon around King's Landing. However, they also respected and trusted Stannis, and fully anticipated that Melisandre would have some kind of magical aid to offer during the battle itself which, while they were not happy about, they were at least willing to accept.

"Acting in that kind of terrain will be difficult, but so long as we use only infantry for that first unit, we could get away with it my lord." said Lord Buckler frowning thoughtfully.

"Exactly. Most Reach lords look down on infantry and believe that heavy cavalry are the masters of the battlefield. I mean to show them that that is not always the case." Stannis smiled grimly. "And we have other arrows in our quiver as well, and not just on the battlefield. I've already sent diplomatic messages to specific lords. Though the men I sent with most of them haven't returned yet, given what is happening to the underbelly of the Reach I have no doubt that many Reach lords will be anxious to head home. That is an exploitable weakness."

After a few more moments discussion Stannis and his officers had planned as much as they could before they reached where Stannis estimated the battle would take place and broke up for the evening. As they did Stannis turned to Melisandre who had been watching quietly. He took a sip of camp water then set it aside on the small table looking at her coolly. "I trust the old man's death served your purpose?"

"It did, though barely." Melisandre said, not looking away from Stannis's hard judgmental gaze. "For more specific information, we will have to sacrifice someone to the flames but for now…" she shrugged. "Once again what information my god allowed me to see was mostly and images. One fact however was prevalent throughout every other scene I saw. War has spread everywhere."

"Of course," Stannis said shaking his head. "But specifics please."

"I have very little specifics to share as I said. However near the end of my meditation R'hllor saw fit to send me several images, many of which are easy enough to interpret while others are not so much."

She described the images as they came to her, the first and most vivid shocking Stannis to almost lose control of his facial expressions for a moment. "So the Stark youth has completely defeated the old lion? Amazing. Even after your last image about the two of them I had not anticipated the Starks would simply win outright like that. I would have thought the two of them would continue to war with one another shattering the Riverlands as they did. I will have to make certain not to underestimate Ranma Stark the general when we inevitably meet."

Stannis couldn't stop himself from glaring angrily at Melisandre at that, since without her demand that he assault the ship with the Dragon Queen on it he might have well been able to bring the Starks in on his own side. But not now. Not unless he could unite the rest of Westeros against them, and that wasn't going to happen.

The next few images could deal with the Ironborn, but the snake was a mystery to Stannis. Melisandre had been unable to tell them what type of snake, and there were several families who had snakes in their heraldry which didn't mention people with nicknames that dealt with snakes. "If I had to make a bet, I would say it would might be about the Viper, but his making his way from the south, doesn't tell me enough."

"And what of my last image my Lord, the black dragon circling over Dragonstone, or about the fleet leaving a port? R'hllor favored me greatly to send me that image at all considering they were about something occurring overwater. If Dragonstone is in danger…"

Stannis laughed harshly. "I do not tell you how to burn people woman, don't tell me about war. Dragonstone might not be Storm's End but unlike Storm's End when I had to hold it against that idiot Mace, I prepared Dragonstone for war long before this. And I left 700 of my best men there under Jate Blackberry, one of my best and most loyal men. If that image is about something occurring now, he'll break the dragon loving scum on the walls!

"As to the fleet, that is something else entirely. Can you tell me anything about what the ships looked like, or anything that could distinguish them?"

Melisandre thought for a time, and then shrugged. "I could sense they were coming from Essos, but other than that… Perhaps, perhaps a golden hue about them my lord? Other than that, there was nothing about them to tell me about… my lord?"

Stannis had gone still, his eyes narrowed and hard as he thought what that could mean, then shook his head. "That… that could be a lot of trouble done the line if my guess on that is right." He shook his head. "For now, we will continue to deal with my brother and King's Landing. Then we will send a message to Saan. Davos and his friend will deal with the dragon lovers for us. All the dragon lovers, if possible."

After waiting a moment to see if Stannis would share what he thought the fleet might be Melisandre cocking her head to one side asking. "And the wolves, what of them?"

"The wolves can wait for a time. Even if Stark won his campaign against Tywin decisively he'll have to consolidate his position. And as long as the Golden Tooth is in Lannister hands they'll need to worry about their flank too much to allow them to march deep into the Crownlands. No, if events here go as well as we can make them we will be in a far better position to face them, possibly near Harroway or Maidenpool somewhere. Are your plans for the women ready?" He asked somewhat distastefully.

"Yes Azor Ahai." Melisandre responded bowing her head obsequiously, yet somehow the gesture was more arrogant than any kingly gesture Stannis had ever seen. "The Army knows we will be sending the women and the other noncombatants back to that last village tomorrow night before marching on to face a Renly, guarded by myself and many of your fire guard for a time, and I have let it be known that we will be picking up several crates as well there." She smiled thinly, though it quickly turned into a frown. "I will remind you that winter and the Great Other are gathering strength. We will need to start for the Wall in the next few months, six at the most."

"You do not have to keep reminding me about the otherworldly threat you seem to see around every corner!" Stannis said growling angrily. He didn't believe in the Great Other or whatever threat she saw beyond the Wall but he wasn't about to discount it either. He simply wished to concentrate on more understandable threats first. "When the time comes we will march north, and this Great Others of yours will face the largest army Westeros can field, but I refuse to go to the Wall and leave enemies behind me!"

He looked up as the pattering of rain began on the tent's roof, then back at Melisandre. "If it rains like this when we deal with King's Landing will that affect your plans?"

"No mere drops of water will put out the flames of R'hllor!" Melisandre said, her eyes flashing angrily. "My flames will burn away everything, you will see."

OOOOOOO

Closer to home at around the same time Ranma was about to close his final trap on Tywin, Daenerys and her portion of the Army had arrived at Stone Hedge, ostensibly to relieve the army there.

Inside the keep, Roger was taking a solitary meal while writing up notes of the siege for Domeric. Back in Seagard Domeric had asked all of the Wolfsworn to write their experiences down for him so that he could weave them into song after the war was over, and knowing that the battles here would be known as one of the turning points the battle against the Lannisters Roger was determined to put down everything that had happened in order to paint Dacey and Arya in the heroic light they deserved to be.

He paused in his writing when he felt someone behind him, but before he could turn, two feminine arms went around his shoulders tracing down his chest to his stomach. "What are you writing?" A breathy voiced asked his ear.

Roger rolled his eyes keeping a groan from escaping his lips with difficulty despite his father's training in etiquette. "May I ask why what I am writing would be any of your concern?" he asked, turning slightly to look over one shoulder at the young woman trying to drape herself over his back. "And I have asked you" he said reaching up gently with his own hands to remove her arms from around his shoulders, "to desist in these flirtations of yours."

"Your handwriting is very neat my Lord." said the girl, staring down at the messages he was writing, before backing away slightly yet still a little too close for Roger's comfort. "Would you like me to look it over for you?"

"I doubt the topic would in any way it interest you my lady." Roger said taking the parchment from her quickly.

Barbara Bracken, the oldest daughter of the house smiled sweetly at him, letting none of the desperation she was feeling shown her face. But Roger knew it was there, her flirtations had become more and more physical in nature since Lord Bracken's capture and the defeat of the small force that he had led against the walls. Now with everyone of the Brackens under the North's thumb, she knew that they were truly at the mercy of the Northerners. Her mother had told her about Arya and what she thought would happen to them all, and Barbara wanted no part in that. She had been raised as a lady, and she would remain such even if she had to whore herself out to a northern barbarian.

She had picked Roger as her target because he was the most civilized looking one among the Wolfsworn. Edd was handsome enough, but not her type really, she preferred a more mature man. Hathan was injured of course, and his family wasn't one she had ever heard before. Roger had actually shared the story of the House of Shieldarm's creation, how Hathan had received Ranma's life and been awarded his own last name and holdfast in return. But that just meant he was not rich enough to interest her.

She did know however that Catelyn, her middle sister, had some designs on the northern knight. She had been the one to help him with his wounds, and the two had grown close. But how far that understanding would go, she didn't know. Which didn't even consider Bess and her relationship with Arya, the friendship that had sprung up between the two girls, almost an apprenticeship really.

Barbara moved forward, one hand reaching up to rub along Roger's cheek. Roger however pushed her away now shaking his head angrily. "I said desist lady, I am married, as I've told you before."

"Yes, to a wildling witch!" Barbara scoffed, shaking her head, her feminine dignity now raising its head. "Do they even acknowledge marriage like you or I would? Does she know how to read and write, to see to the running of a household, of politics or anything of real use? What could you see in such as one is her when you could have me?"

"I would choose Osha because she is strong enough to look after herself and survive winter when it comes." Roger replied coolly. "And while her people might view marriage as something only worthwhile so long as the man can prove you stronger than the woman, I take my vows seriously, especially since she has already given me a child."

The young woman scowled but before she could retort one of the guards burst in. "My Lord! An army approaches, bearing a banner I have never seen before, but the two dragons are flying overhead!"

OOOOOOO

"You're telling me that we came here for nothing?" Daenerys asked, a wide smile on her face as she slipped out of the saddle after Myrcella. The two of them still routinely shared a horse, yet even so that horse was probably the envy of all the other warhorses in the army given how light the two of them were. She looked up, helping Merry from the saddle and taking a moment to hug the younger girl for a second, still amused by the joke Merry had been telling her as they rode under the portcullis.

"Blame Lord Bracken's moment of madness." said Dacey laughing lightly as she exchanged arm clasps with both younger women before looking at her and the others. "I take it the old lion is on the run?"

"Possibly not by this time." Daenerys said with a shrug. "He did not have that much of a head start, and I know that Ranma is going to push the pace as hard as possible to catch him."

Myrcella had moved over to greet Edd and Roger exchanging a hug with Arya before looking around quizzically. "Where's Hathan?" Myrcella like Hathan, he was quiet, but there was something solid about him, reminding her of Ser Oakheart in a way.

"He was injured taking the castle in the first place. His injuries are healing, but we would certainly like your opinion on them Myrcella." Edd responded.

Myrcella nodded, and Roger turned, gesturing her and her two bodyguards to follow him into the keep.

"We've kept Lord Bracken in the cells here along with the feel of his men that surrendered rather than simply fleeing. Did you run into any trouble with skirmishers on the way here?" Dacey asked.

"No, I doubt that after the drubbing you seem to have given them that they will have stomach for opposing a full army. I have no doubt they will have turned to banditry like so many." Daenerys frowned for a moment then shrugged. "I'd like to speak to Bracken now if you don't mind, make my own impression of him before we talk further. I want to know if he is like Vypren, simply striking out for personal gain, or if he has some small honorable justification for his actions."

Dacey nodded and led the way to the prison. In the end however, Jonos Bracken did not impress Daenerys. Even in prison the man was full of bluster, hotly defending his actions rather than admitting guilt. Daenerys decided then and there he would be exiled or executed.

After that, she interviewed his wife and daughters, and then turned her thoughts to the future, specifically, how best to deal with the Westerlands. It is time for politics to once more come into play, she thought as she sat down with Merry at the former Lord Bracken's desk, taking out parchment and quill. The two of them had a lively dinner with the Wolfsworn, Bess, Cley and a few of the pages outside net to the stables where her two dragons had been bedded down for the evening. But duty had pulled them away leaving Arya, Nymeria and the pages to keep the unwary away from her dragons.

The two girls rather amusingly could fit in the large chair Jonos had used, and did so now, laughing at the experience. Though for just a moment, as Merry leaned against her side, Daenerys had to fight the urge to lean down and kiss her, not on the cheek, but on the mouth. Thankfully Merry got up from the chair before that thought fully penetrated Daenerys' head, then sat across from the young queen.

With a jerk of her head Daenerys dismissed that sudden thought and turned to the matter at hand. "If we're going to think about using politics to either tame or bring the Westerlands under our control, I think that we should start out with what kind of carrots we can use to entice them. We've already shown them the stick after all."

"We should also limit our first round of ravens to those families still strong enough to be a threat, at least on their own ground." Merry replied, bringing one finger to her lips as she thought. "I don't think I saw any banners of House Lydden or House Serret, and very few for House Crakehall. Those and the, oh…. Darn it, the castle facing the Iron Islands… something dark." Merry scowled, unhappy at not remembering the name of the house in question after so many lessons from her mother of the noble Houses of the Westerlands.

"Those will do for a start, hmmm…. I seem to remember something about Lydden and Serret being wedded? Interesting…" Daenerys frowned, pulling out a map of Westeros, one of several copies of a general map Ranma had made back in Seagard. It wasn't very detailed, but it had some of the major castles marked out on it. After a moment she began to smile. "Hmmm… I think I have an idea. It might not be very popular with a few lords, but it might be with enough. Now, what carrots do you think we can offer…"

The two young women put their heads together over the map, talking into the wee hours of the morning as they made plans for the dissolution of the Westerlands as a united nation. And if one or the other would break off occasionally to stare at the other, there was no one there to notice these little moments.

OOOOOOO

Tywin stared at the young man who had so thoroughly outmaneuvered him on the battlefield and finally captured him with something beyond fury, yet also more than a little fear. Using all of his formidable self-control not to show anger or fear, he nodded his head slightly. "Very well, I know when I am beaten, what are your terms for my surrender and the surrender of my house?"

"Terms?" Ranma actually laughed shaking his head in something like admiration for Tywin's pure gall. "No terms Lannister. Your House's military strength is smashed, the Westerlands as a whole don't have an army anymore, I doubt that the remaining houses could field more than 10,000 at most for the next few months, and that would only be if they stripped their seats almost entirely. After this debacle do you really think any of them will be willing to do that for you? They might have respected and feared you old lion, but enough to put their own heads on the chopping block? Especially after so many heads have been chopped off already?"

Tywin growled, his teeth gnashing together unwilling to admit that the boy had a point. His house's pockets were deep enough that given time they could field another army, but after this debacle he wasn't certain if any of his few remaining lords could best the young man in front of him on the battlefield.

"No, if I have my way and since my bannermen declared me King in the North I do have my way whenever I wish, you'll be executed soon enough for the depredations you and your army have committed upon the Riverlands. That doesn't even go into your daughter's treason against the crown and you backing said treason."

"We tend to take those things rather seriously in the North." Jon remarked, pulling off his helm as he moved to stand beside his brother throwing one arm over Ranma's shoulder.

"Greatjon!" Ranma yelled over to the taller man. "Take Lord Lannister here and place him with the other prisoners. Watch them closely, and if any try to escape, kill him. Any of them." He said turning back to stare at Tywin making certain that he got the hint there. "I'll willingly forgo the pleasure of a public execution for you if you test my patience Lannister."

Greatjon guffawed, then picked Tywin up as easily as if he was a small child and moved over to where the other prisoners. There were only twelve of them, including the other Lannisters they had captured, though Daven was still unconscious and looked to remain so. Tywin remained silent as some men of House Umber tied him up, looking around with keen eyes even now. He knew that while Ranma had bested him on the battlefield, there still might be ways for him to escape or turn the tide, and if he could, everything he learned about Ranma and his army could help later.

Watching the prisoners be placed on spare horses, Ranma was not unaware of Tywin's thoughts but he had other things on his mind. He turned slightly pulling Jon into a manly hug slapping him on the back several times before pulling away looking at him closely. "You look well, I take it taking Wayfarer's Rest wasn't that hard?"

"Not after the initial battle no." Jon said with a shrug, grinning at his brother. "We had trouble crossing the Tumblestone, but the big problem was there were more in the keep than we had anticipated. It turned out that we attacked the place while one of the supply convoys was there at with its guards. But we still won the day. Or rather night actually." Jon corrected himself smirking little, "since we attacked at night."

He went on much more seriously however, shaking his head. "But Wayfarer's Rest is even worse a defensive position then great-uncle Brynden told us. It's not close enough to the pass to the Westerlands to close it, a force there could interdict any army coming out, but it's not large enough to have many catapults stationed there, and the keep itself is pathetic. Some work was being done to create an outer wall, and we had the locals continued that as much as we could, but it will take months to complete, at best. With the weather turning as it is, it might take longer.

Ranma shrugged, moving over to where Fenris and Ghost were becoming reacquainted the way of wolves all over, by roughhousing like little puppies. The sight brought a smile to his face even while he turned to stare off further south. "I thought it might be. The men you left behind, are they up to stopping any stragglers from getting past them?"

"Yes." Jon replied definitively. "Remember I took mostly mountain clansmen, they're fantastic at scouting and skirmishing even in unknown terrain, and they've had time to get to know that area very well."

"Good, and your supplies?"

"Excellent, so good in fact we've been sharing with some of the smallfolk of the area." Jon shook his head sadly. "I don't know how they did it, but I would say one out of every five families was able to hide themselves while the Lannisters marched through." He went on much more softly. "I think at least two out of every remaining four were killed however. According to what the locals passed on, the area between Mummer's Ford and Acorn Hall is especially bad. One of the mercenary groups that Tywin used to start that skirmishing around the borders took Acorn Hall and then began to simply ravage the land all around it. There were rumors of the Lord of Acorn Hall being burned alive in his keep during the battle."

"I saw some of that as we passed through, the Lannisters have a lot to answer for." Ranma said with a nod. "Given how difficult it would be to try all of the prisoners we took one at time, Daenerys and I decided to try them by their colors unless someone comes forward with specific names, though that hasn't happened yet despite Alayaya and Domeric's best efforts. They could've changed since I left to chase down Tywin, but I doubt it."

"So you're thinking of simply using their banners and colors, if one Lord and his men were seen taking part in the rapine and looting?"

"Yes it's the best we can do," Ranma said with a sigh. "We'll try to dole out justice as much as possible, but in cases like this, that's the best were going to get. How many men did you leave behind?"

"About a hundred and sixty archers and another hundred or so armsmen from House Grell, and something like five hundred mixed Wull and Liddle men. I left Muldan, one of the Wull men, in charge with orders to patrol the area aggressively already."

Ranma nodded. "All right, we'll send about four hundred more men down to help them from here, archers predominantly. We won't need all the men we've still got here to care for the prisoners or wounded." Jon nodded, and the two of them began to reorganize the army, burning the dead of both sides despite the weather and reorganizing the army around its losses, which were minimal after this battle. They had actually lost more men wiping out the Lannister force coming up from Stone Hedge near Acorn Hall.

Throughout this Tywin continued to watch, making note of things that his agents either hadn't seen or hadn't understood the importance of. For one thing, the weapons and armor of the Northerners were all of the same quality save the heavy cavalry which was somewhat better in most cases, which was to be expected. But it was a very rare Lord indeed who could armor his infantry as well as this. So it wasn't just the pike units that received such quality weapons. How did the Starks do this?

Usually the armor and weapons of the warriors called up to join a Lord Paramount's forces were supplied by those Houses, and so varied widely in quality. That was not the case here. I see tabards of several Houses here, so it must be uniform across the entire army. I've never even heard of anything like that. Even as Tywin watched small unit commanders were getting their men organize and assigning them places in the march to come. They also seem to be trained to respond and to act as units irrespective of their original allegiance. These men are not just armsmen serving in an army, they're something new, the closest example I can think of is the Unsullied, but how was such a thing achieved?

Over the next few days, Tywin began to realize how badly he had underestimated Ranma as a general, and a Lord as well. Yet it wasn't just him, the other one, Jon Stark (who must've been Jon Snow at one point though why anyone would legitimize a bastard was beyond Tywin) was just as interesting. The two of them were consummate warriors, they practiced every evening and after watching them once Tywin concluded both were as dangerous as his own son, possibly more so. They also discussed politics and the need for their army to get some rest, and some plans for the future of the Riverlands that sounded both interesting and like they would work.

Ranma and Jon were also thinking about the next phase of the war, though they did that far enough away from the prisoners so Tywin couldn't overhear those discussions. Over the next few days they discussed some ideas with Greatjon. "Taking the Golden Tooth won't be easy." Greatjon said shaking his head. "It's supposed to be one of the toughest keeps to take. Not quite as bad as the Rock, the Bloody Gate or the Moat, but bad. I like the idea of it taking it for a lot of reasons, but I'm just not certain that even if we can raid the gold mines that it'd be worth the blood we have to pay for it."

Golden Tooth was the seat of House Lefford, which guarded the mines around the Golden Tooth which were in turn the source of much of the Lannisters wealth, owned directly by House Lannister. House Lefford was one of the most loyal houses to House Lannister, but their land could not sustain a large population being so mountainous. So while they were an important house, the Lannisters had never allowed them to be a large one, their men were very well trained and very well outfitted, but it was the Golden Tooth itself that was the main source of their strength thanks to its strategic position.

"It's the only way to secure our flank from further incursion." Ranma said with a shrug. "We have to take it, besides…" he smirked a little. "Daenerys and I have been talking, and having the Golden Tooth in our control we'll add an exclamation to the messages we're going to be sending to various Westerlands lords in a few weeks. Besides, I'm not thinking of taking it in a conventional assault. You should know that I don't do that kind of thing, Greatjon."

"True enough!" Greatjon laughed, though he looked at the two younger men shrewdly. "But what do you have in mind?"

"A job for the Wolfsworn." Ranma replied, shrugging his shoulders. "We'll drop the old lion and the other prisoners off at Raventree Hall, reform the army there and then we'll lead a small force down to Wayfarer's Rest and from there down to the Golden Tooth. Though we might rest the army for a time first, I think we've pushed the men hard these past few months, and it's starting to show in their gear."

"We should also send a small holding force down to Harrenhal from there." Greatjon said nodding his shaggy head towards the west. "I doubt the Lannisters left a large force there, but if they get they could do some damage."

"Hopefully Smalljon's already taken care of that." Ranma's replied chuckling a little. "He and the others that went to relieve Raventree Hall were free to act how they wished, and I know Smalljon would think of that."

Jon nodded, and the discussion turned from there.

Over the next few days Tywin began to try and inveigle some of the guards to let him go, promising wealth beyond their imaginings. Most of the time they didn't even respond to him, other times they simply sneered. One of them however did report to his Lord, Greatjon. The next day as the prisoners were being lead into their single tent, the Lord of House Umber came over to stare down at Tywin. "My men say you've been trying to bribe them." He smirked, the expression visible despite his beard.

"I have." Tywin replied frankly. "And I would be willing to offer the same deal to you only more so. Join with me, and I will give you your weight in gold Lord Umber."

Greatjon stared at him for a moment then burst out laughing. "You, you think," he said between gasps of laughter "that I would betray House Stark?" Suddenly Greatjon became serious, and one huge hand reached out grasping Tywin by the throat and lifting him off his feet. "I am Lord Umber, I gave my oath, and I keep it! You think I will betray my honor, my King, and my gods for your shit-stained gold!? You think any of us would!?"

Tywin gasped as he felt his throat constrict under the grip of the Northerner. Then he was hurled back to join the other prisoners. "Don't try to bribe my men anymore." Greatjon growled. "You won't get anywhere."

As the angry Northern Lord marched off a man nearby who was wearing Mallister colors murmured, "Besides, even if we all turned on them, I doubt you'd get away. Not with Ranma, Jon and their wolves here. That's an army right there."

Tywin raised his tied up hands to massage his sore throat, staring at the man. But he didn't talk again, turning back to entering the prisoners tent.

That tent showed something else that Tywin had noticed, the organization of the small force that had come after him was incredible. Every man there was assigned to a tent, one tent for every four men. Moreover a different man carried the tent and their camping gear on his horse every day, while another was in charge of putting their tents up every night. That organization also showed in the way they set up camp, though Tywin wasn't quite able to understand all of what he was seeing.

One day the rain was too heavy for them to continue on, and army camped out on top of a small rise, using the trees there as cover from the rain. As they went about setting up camp many of the men commented on how the leaves of the trees had begun to fall. Autumn was truly upon the Riverlands, making more than one man wonder what was going on in the north.

On the outskirts of the camp where they could best use their direwolves senses Ranma and Jon were sharing a campfire, both the fire and the two brothers covered by a small tarp. They were laughing about the first time the two of them had been caught stealing food from the pantries when both of them looked up and turned to stare out into the rain. They looked at one another then Jon stood up and moved out from under the tarp cupping his hands around his mouth. "Ho there, be you friend or foe?"

There was a moment of silence then a voice shouted, "Be you Lord Stark?"

Ranma stood up as well moving as others in the camp began to notice something was going on. "I am. Who are you?"

"Do we be havin'yer word that none be harmin' us?"

"So long as you come in peace, friend." Ranma replied quickly looking at Jon who shrugged his shoulders. He leaned in slightly. "Did Ghost send you the same images as me? Some smallfolk carrying food?"

Jon nodded, and the both of them watched several figures come out of the scrub brush further down the small hill. Ranma moved forward, leaving Ice behind him while he moved to meet them. One of them was an elderly woman struggling under the load of what looked like a full basket of bread, covered by her cloak which should've rather been covering her. Ranma quickly took the basket from her arms, pulling off the cloaking quickly and throwing it over the woman. "We appreciate the food good mother, but we'd appreciate your not with getting sick on us even more." He quipped, winking at them all. "Come friends we have tents enough for you all to at least get warm and dry for the day."

The smallfolk looked at him in shock then in further shock when more men came out from the camp led by Jon. They quickly divested the smallfolk of their food and hurrying them under tarps here and there where fires were already burning. "Who speaks for you?" Ranma asked as he hurried the old lady up the hill, almost carrying her up but not quite.

The old lady looked to an equally elderly man, who looked as if he had been hewn out of rock at some point he was simply that solid, reminding Ranma strongly of Grimaldi from Harroway. The man nodded in turn, and joined Ranma and Jon underneath their tarp. Ranma stared at the man thoughtfully rubbing at his chin noting that he'd have to shave soon. "Exactly what did that food cost you and your followers, good man?"

"Rufus Smallcreek my Lord. Ah'm a farmer d'wn by house Keath and house Vance land. We been dealing wit' lots o' runners lately, but most of them be farmer folk anyway and more 'en willing to work for their meals. We done well s'ppose leastwise to da families that tried ta stay or weren't quick 'nough to run from the Lannisters." When he said the word 'Lannister' it came off with as much vitriol as a person could put into the words mother-fucking-bastard.

"I see." Ranma said with a nod before he gestured over to the prisoners. "As you can see, we've captured the old lion and some of his little cubs. They will stand trial for what they've done. I can't right all the wrongs that have occurred in this war, but I can make certain of that."

The man stared at him with all the weight of a man who had seen many promises from lords broken as politics or their own whims dictated. Yet when he stared into Ranma's blue eyes, all he saw was bleak determination and honesty staring back at him. Eventually he nodded. "If yer do that my Lord, then I'll truly un'erstand why da septons've begun to say we sh'ld aid ye as we may."

That made both young men sit up and take notice, though after a moment Ranma smiled. "That septon wouldn't be called Father Sparrow would it?"

"No my Lord," the man said looking quizzical replied, shaking his head. "I've heard tell of da one you speak of, but our village 'as a septon. He went off to some kind o' meetin' a week or so ago. When he come back he beg'n to tell us of da evils of the two Baratheon brothers, how one of 'em has given himself to a heathen religion, and the other's a man-lover. He said we sh'ld be aiding ye and yer queen as true champions of the Seven."

The man shrugged uncomfortably. "I cen't say that w're 'appy 'bout it, but given da choices a northern wolf who seems ta be keeping his army under control and doing something for da smallfolk rather than either ignoring us or livin' off our lands seems ta be the best bet."

"How bad is it really?" Jon asked softly. "I mean we've only seen portions of the lands where the Lannister army passed over. How bad is it elsewhere?"

The man shrugged. "Bad milord, Riverrun's overflowing wit' runnersand a few of da villages down by us, like Stony Sept, are too. Most of 'emarewillin' to work, but housings tough and foods scarce." He scowled a little as he stared down at the bread that one of the men had come to give Jon and Ranma.

Ranma stared at him then down at the bread before breaking it in three pieces waving away the rest the man was going to give him before passing one piece to Jon and the other across to Rufus. "You'll stay with us for the night." He ordered. "Tomorrow we'll load you down with a few deer or something to take with you on recompense.

"And when you get back home, tell your fellow villagers and the septon to pass it on that the Riverlands will have what aid they need to prepare for winter. But there won't be any handouts, so long as people are willing to work together they will be rewarded for it. But we really don't have the resources available to simply feed everyone unless they're willing to work for it."

"So's business as usual my lord." Rufus said with a shrug before biting into his portion of the loaf. The next day Rufus and his fellow smallfolk were astonished to find several dead deer, their throats torn out but otherwise undamaged, piled neatly near the camp. As Ranma and his him men set off, they gleefully went to work on butchering them, preparing them for travel.

OOOOOOO

That was not the only surprise visit Ranma and his force met with as they marched to Raventree Hall. Two days after leaving behind the smallfolk delegation, Ranma and Jon was once more warned by their direwolves that there was another group nearby. Ranma halted his march, turning to stare out into the woodlands around them south and west, while Jon did the same. "Are we going to have trouble friends?"

Out in the woods, Beric Dondarrion jolted from where he was hiding with several of his fellows. They all looked at one another and he whispered "how did he know we were here?"

"RRRRRRR…" A growl from behind them made him and his men turn, and Beric gulped staring at the gigantic white-furred direwolf that had somehow snuck through the woods upon them. Another joined him quickly, looming even larger than the first.

One of his men however was one of the Stark men and he looked at the two of them in surprise. "That really is Ranma and Jon out there." He said. "Those are their direwolves, I recognize them." He laughed sharply shaking his head. "Of course I doubt there are that many direwolves this side of the Wall in any event." He held up his head well away from his mace, then moved forward. "Take us to your masters."

Moments later the full complement of the Brothers Without Borders him were in front of Ranma and Jon while the army paused for a moment, some of the men breaking out lunch for themselves. Ranma stared at the northern men, especially their leader. "Jaryd Waterman?"

"My Lord." Jaryd said bowing his head, while the four northern men with him all bowed as well. One of them, a man named Orlus who had been wicked with a flail, had died in one of the skirmishes they had fought in the past few months. "I'm humbled to see you remember me."

Ranma moved forward, clasping the other man's arm firmly, stopping him mid-bow. "Of course I remember you! I'm happy to see you survived the Lannister betrayal. Jon told me the smallfolk passed on rumors that you and the others were still doing what you could against the Westerlanders, thank you for that." He turned to the others, narrowing his eyes as he tried to bring their names to mind. "Beric Dondarrion and Eric Dayne, or Eldric, right?"

"It's Edric, Lord Stark." The young boy answered firmly, returning Ranma's handshake despite feeling more than a little awe at the man. He had seen Ranma tear apart Gregor Clegane firsthand, and knew how strong he was, and some of the tales of his campaign here in the Riverlands had already spread among the smallfolk.

"You call it a betrayal Lord Stark, and it was indeed, a most foul trap that would have succeeded in claiming us all if not for Thoros of Myr's sacrifice." Beric said, shaking his head while he watched some of the northerners hand out strips of jerky and hard tack to his men. He described the battle against the Bloody Mummers covering Lorch's betrayal, then Thoros's power and his final stand, which allowed Beric and many of his men to escape. "It was the single most magnificent thing I had ever seen. Since then we have been doing what we can to aid the smallfolk and strike at the Westerlanders, in particular any of the forces that were involved in that battle."

Ranma and Jon had listened intently to the tale, exchanging glances occasionally when Beric described the flaming sword that Thoros had used. It made them both uneasy, since he apparently followed the same god that the Red Witch did, but they couldn't fault his heroism. After a moment, Ranma nodded. "That's quite a tale Beric. So, what will you do now? Will you join with us, or turn to hunting down deserters now that the Westerlands army has been broken?"

Beric exchanged a glance with his squire and Davit Wendwater. It was obvious that the five remaining Northerners would opt to stay with their fellows, but both of them hoped to learn what was going on elsewhere before making a decision. He said so aloud than touched his squires shoulder lightly. "And I would also like to send a message to Starfall somehow. My betrothed and this ones aunt should hear we are alive as soon as we can manage to tell it."

"I'm afraid the odds of a messenger surviving the trip to Starfall from here is remote, and I've no idea if any castle in the Riverlands would have a raven trained to take messages to Starfall, but we can see." Ranma nodded, standing up and whistling sharply then raising an arm into the air. When the unit commanders were looking at him he made another motion, circling his hand in the air and pointing forward. "For now, let's get a move on."

That evening they stopped twelve leagues further toward Raventree Hall, and Beric and his men were almost falling out of the saddle in weariness. Edric was a little better, being a young man of fourteen he recovered far more quickly. Ranma had been watching the young boy during the march, remembering his father's tales of Arthur Dayne, the Sword of Morning. While the rest of the army was making camp, he touched the boy on his shoulder, motioning toward a small clear area to one side. "Beric said you had seen action, and while I don't know him well, I've no doubt he has been training you as he should. Would you like some training from me as well?"

Edric nodded eagerly, his eyes wide and Ranma nodded, grabbing up a fallen branch and holding it like a sword. "Come at me then." When Edric looked at him askance, Ranma laughed. "Trust me Edric, I'm at no disadvantage. There's a little trick I know, I might be able to teach it to you eventually."

Rather than putting him at his ease that made Edric even more wary of attacking. He circled Ranma for a moment, his sword held in both hands slightly at an angle, ready to block or strike with equal speed. Ranma nodded at that, but still made a slight motion with the hand holding the branch. "Come on lad, we don't have all evening. Night comes quickly these days."

Spurred on Edric stepped forward, swinging his longsword quickly, while Beric and a few of the others paused in their own work to ready their tents to watch. Ranma blocked the blow then blocked a kick that would have taken him in the knee with his own leg, smiling as Edric moved in, trying to get in close and using his feet and hands as well as the sword. It wasn't the most 'noble' style but it was one that had been taught in battle, and it worked well enough for the youth.

But Ranma simply blocked or redirected every blow and punch, then began to shout out corrections. "Keep your weight centered at all times, don't overextend like that, if I wanted I could have gutted you just then. Protect your face and neck, not just your body, keep your sword up slightly more, good! We'll need to work on your footwork, you need to be faster at changing your position and angle of attack. Try to make each blow flow one into the other and aim for different parts of the body."

"Don't be so quick to lunge like that, no matter if you think you see an opening!" With that, Ranma dodged to one side, his branch flicking up and redirecting Edric's sword into the ground then flashing to stop within a finger's width from his nose. "Like so. Control is what you need, the sword is an extension of the body, not just a weight, we'll need to work on that somewhat too, you were doing well, but your endurance needs a lot of work."

He stepped back, smiling and motioning the boy to attack again. Edric did so, but it was obvious now that he was feeling the effect of the exercise. Ranma suddenly went on the attack, still calling out corrections, but a moment later Edric found himself on his rear, his sword flashing up into the sunlight for a moment. Without even looking, Ranma reached out and caught it by the hilt, his arm not moving an inch when he caught it. "Not bad lad, not bad at all. We have a lot of work to do, but you're as good as could be expected at this point. Well done!"

Edric looked up at him, flushing slightly at the praise and the exhaustion gripping him before Ranma reached down hauling him to his feet. "Now, I have some exercises I'd like you to do, then…"

OOOOOOO

"I must say that I had not anticipated you so easily deciding to throw over Viserys as you did, Doran." Said Magister Illyrio, taking one of the dainties that the other man's servant had offered to them, munching contentedly. Viserys had decided to leave Illyrio behind as the fleet set out since in an actual war Illyrio would have nothing to contribute and he had been dealing with a fever at the time.

"I have ruled Dorne for a very long time." Doran replied, smiling thinly. "I have become an incredibly good judge of character if I say so myself, and certain aspect of Viserys' personality make me believe that he would not be the best king for Westeros in the future. Besides, what you are offering to add to our cause is too good to ignore. Though I have to wonder at the ease with which you yourself are planning to turn on Viserys."

"I have had months to get to know Viserys, and you are absolutely correct, as King he would be a nightmare, Maegor the Cruel and his mad father all rolled into one. I had feared that from stories I'd heard of him before meeting him in person, but by the time I knew my fears to be justified, I had already backed him against Daenerys too often for her to trust me."

"Yes…Daenerys… What are your plans to deal with her?" Doran continued to smile, but his eyes were sharp as he looked at the other man. "She is making quite a name for herself."

The prince's spies had passed on some news from further north, in particular the fact that Ranma and Daenerys were allied and that the Starks had dealt the Lannisters a severe blow. The news that the Westerlands army had been utterly annihilated hadn't reached him yet, nor had the fact that the dragons had been used to aid that destruction. Nor, strangely enough, had the news that Ranma and Daenerys were married spread very far. Most of the rumors about the two of them concentrated on their deeds, and were very positive, which, when they got back to Illyrio, made him curse for lost opportunities. The marriage aspect would begin to spread from their time in Harroway, but that was weeks in the future.

Illyrio was also dismayed to learn that several of the Riverlands Houses that had been informing on events there to him to pass, ostensibly to pass on to Viserys, though that was impossible with him at sea, had stopped. That indicated that they had decided to throw their lot in with Daenerys rather than her brother, and of course Illyrio himself.

"I have decided to send a message to the Houses that are still passing on information to me to do something about her at the nearest opportunity. That is the best I can do at this far removed. But once Daenerys is dead, her dragons will go out of control, and the Stark/Tully army will face the brunt of their fury. I believe that is a case of two birds slain with one stone, yes?"

"Possibly if it succeeds."Doran said coldly. "And if it does not? If she, Viserys and this Aegon that you have suddenly pulled out from whole cloth meet in battle? What then?"

"I have had a message from Grif, as he calls himself. He says that the boy has proven himself a true dragon, and since I sent him one of the four eggs I found, there is only one way for him to have done that." Illyrio said smiling serenely. "If that is the case, then it will be two dragons against two, and judging by how huge the black one was before the fleet left, we'll have the advantage there. And the Iron Bank's aid allowed us to finally bring in a military force whose quality none here in Westeros can match. With them, and the troops you committed to fight under Viserys' banner, they will be able to win the throne for the renewed Blackfyre line, after which, Viserys can be… dealt with."

"Only if Aegon and Viserys can work together until then, or if Viserys remains alive until this 'aid' can arrive." Doran replied still coolly. "I'm hopeful for both, but if they cannot work together or Aegon faces his aunt alone, this may end up at in a greater disaster for Dorne than backing Viserys alone. And you, you may well face the Iron Throne's wrath as well, if they do not get the return you promised them on their inverstment."

"Why do you think I'm staying right here." Illyrio said laughing, though there was no humor in the noise. "The game is of thrones might be rewarding, but it is one best played at thrice removed less you pay for playing in blood."

OOOOOOO

The fleet was about 40 strong. There were 25 transport ships, huge caravels that were built along the same lines as the massive grain transports that were used to feed Lys and Tyrosh. Each of these ships carried a little under five hundred men, along with horses and fodder for both. The others were war galleys, patrolling around their larger charges.

On the lead war galley stood a young man with shockingly blue hair. He wore full plate mail, and was working a whetstone over his sword as he stared out into the distance. To one side an older man with red hair fading to white stood, staring in the same direction, a thin, grim smile on his weathered face. "Westeros, at last!"

The younger man nodded, reaching down to rub the head of a dragon, whose scales were almost crimson in places. If someone had been in position to compare them, this dragon would have fallen somewhere below the size of Sunfyre, the smallest of Daenerys' two, and far smaller than Balerion. The dragon was currently tied down with heavy chains to the deck, but seemed peaceful enough, its stomach distended from a large meal.

Behind the dragon stood other men, none of them wearing the same armor but all wearing a tabard showing several golden skulls held up on a spear. All of them were also looking in the direction the young man was, some eagerly, some apprehensively, while the fleet continued on its way toward Blackwater Bay and Westeros.

Elsewhere on the same ocean, a lone longship sailed in somewhat the same direction, making its own, eerily silent way home.

OOOOOOO

Viserys stared at the map of Dragonstone, nearly vibrating with fury. Nearby Arianne stood, looking at him worryingly while Nymeria and Elia lounged on cushions beside her, yet they too were watching Viserys closely. Though they would not voice it aloud both had come to the conclusion that the man was somewhat insane.

Since that initial disaster, he and his fleet had not made any headway in taking Dragonstone. Even with the threat of Balerion forcing the scorpions to remain aiming up toward the sky, the defenders were more than numerous enough to beat back any assault. Worse the very land of the island is against us. The other two assaults he had ordered had fared no better than the first. The army had lost another eight hundred men, and it would have been much worse if the lord commanders hadn't decided to pull out when the plans were obviously not working rather than continuing to throw good gold after bad.

The fleet had also lost another four ships. Luckily all four had been originally commandeered from Driftmark, but that was scant comfort. Viserys could feel time closing in on them counting down to when the pirate fleet and the Royal navy would be on them, while Dragonstone, his family's ancestral home, remained stubbornly just out of reach. Even the news that Lord Gargalen had been seen returning with his assault fleet could do nothing for his black mood.

"My King we've tried our best, but the natural defenses of Dragonstone work just as badly against attackers now as they ever did in your family's time." said Arianne soothingly. "We have to leave here quickly, it won't be long before the pirate fleet at least arrives. We can't afford to be pinned here by them at sea, where every advantage would be theirs."

"No dammit, I want Dragonstone! If I have to pile bodies against the side of its walls, I'll do it!" Viserys bellowed, sounding like a awful mix of a petulant child and a bloodthirsty sadist. Behind Arianne, the two Sands Snakes shared a surreptitious glance, both of them shivering a little.

Arianne however replied calmly, having long since been used become used to her husband's bloodthirstiness. "My Lord, we know that the assault on Duskendale worked, we have hurt the Baratheons and more importantly the Royal Navy in a way that it will take years for them to recover from,. While holding Driftmark and Dragonstone against them would be nice, it isn't necessary. Dragonstone alone is a symbol, an important one true, but only a symbol. We should retreat and assault them elsewhere, on Massey's Hook perhaps, or somewhere on Crab Claw Point. The Houses there were loyal to your family, and were among the last to submit to Robert during the war."

Of course those families were among the poorest of the Crownlands, and they hadn't supplied the Royal Army with many men even then, but it would give them a hold on the mainland, and some of those castles would make excellent defensive positions for them in the future. Driftmark alone could not supply the fleet or the army for very much longer despite House Velaryon's willingness to do so.

"And my Lord, we can return to take Dragonstone when Balerion is large enough and strong enough to carry you. A single Dragon Rider could take Dragonstone, where an entire army could not. What could be more symbolic than you, Viserys the Bold, returning to take House Targaryen's ancestral home single-handedly when your army had failed you?"

Her calm, soothing and somewhat ingratiating tone worked causing Viserys to smile slightly. Just then a knock on the door interrupted them. The captain of the galley and stuck his head inside. "Your highness, the attackers from Duskendale have arrived."

"We knew that already," said Viserys dismissively glaring at the man. "Why have you specifically disturbed me now?"

The man gulped in fear at Viserys' silky, yet dangerous tone. He could all too easily remember Viserys orderings Balerion to eat Ulwyck Uller with a similar tone of voice. That was not a sight any man was likely to forget anytime soon. "M-my Lord, they say they come with a prisoner who wishes to speak to you. The Usurper's Master of Coin, Littlefinger."

Viserys' eyes widened in shock, then he and Arianne exchanged a glance wondering what was going on in King's Landing that one of the small council would have been in Duskendale. Had Stannis already won and sent Petyr there for some reason, only for him to be captured? If so, we might be seeing the Royal fleet within a few days rather than another week, which meant Arianne's point about running out of time is even more pointed than normal. "Bring them aboard." he ordered.

Petyr Baelish was soon led in, apparently no worse the wear for his time as a prisoner. He came in with Lord Gargalen, who bowed his head grandly to his king. "Your highness, the attack was a complete success! We fired dozens of ships as they sat empty at anchor in the port, and took two merchant vessels as well, seizing their goods for the crown. However afterwards we came upon a single vessel making its way slowly out of Blackwater Bay. We decided to close with it then found Petyr Baelish aboard. He had several men with him sworn to his service, and after making certain that none of the people inside it had the plague, we took them aboard as prisoners. He has quite a tale to tell my lord."

"I'm certain he does." Viserys said coldly. "But why should I listen to one who willingly served the Usurper?"

"I willingly served Robert Baratheon because he was the only game in town Your Majesty," Petyr said bowing his head. "My contacts in Essos are nonexistent, so I could not put myself in to your service even if I wished to. And at the time, I would not have. I am ambitious my Lord, and it is that ambition and a head for numbers that allowed me to become Master of Coin."

"Bluntly spoken." Viserys said with a nod, though his eyes remained hard on the older man's face. "So why have you then fled the side of the Lannisters?"

"Because they are done as a power." Petyr replied, shrugging his shoulders. "As Master of Coin, I have, shall we say, numerous contacts in practically every corner of Westeros. The Lannisters and the Starks have been fighting in the Riverlands for the past few months, and the Lannisters have been beaten, badly. I don't know any of the details, but the Westerlands army is broken, and I believe that Tywin himself has been captured, and with him out of the way the Lannisters lack a leader that can strike fear in their opponents."

Petyr had gotten more information about what had been going on in the Riverlands when he met up with his ship near Rosby. He had been appalled by it, and also fearful to hear of the dragons being used in such a manner. That had made up his mind to seek out Viserys, wishing to ally himself with a force that could call on a similar weapon. The way Stark had outmaneuvered the Lannisters however was surprising, even if Petyr didn't understand how it had been accomplished.

Seeing the shock on Viserys' face, along with a certain amount of glee at the Lannisters, the great betrayers, getting what they deserved, Petyr went on. "As you probably know the Baratheon brothers are busy fighting one another, and neither has proven to be much of a leader in the past. One lacks wartime experience and any kind of legitimate claim on the throne, the other would be a disaster as king for even more reasons. Even more so, I would prefer to align myself with a family that has a proven track record of being able to rule Westeros rather than one who seemingly has only had the ability to take them ruin it."

"That sounds pleasant." Viserys said slowly, still getting over his shock at his sister and the Starks apparently capturing the man who, just as much as Robert, he blamed for his family's fall from power. After I kill her for betraying me I'll have to make certain at least that at least that much of her deeds is remembered fondly.

Even so his joy at that news didn't stop Viserys from thinking. "But what can you actually give me? While that news is new to me, I already have access to an information network, or will once we move on to the mainland. I have no need of a few more swordsmen, and I certainly wouldn't be willing to trust you with any position near my own coin." Viserys smirked before going on in a scathing tone. "I know all about the debt that you helped create for the Iron Throne. In fact, I could make some points for myself with the Iron Bank by handing them to you, or perhaps just your head on a silver platter."

"Perhaps, but I would say I can aid you above and beyond my network of contacts, and I am worth far more than any aid the Iron Bank would be willing to give you in return for my head." Petyr had spent years playing politics at the highest level, no death threat was going to faze him. "I have supporters in the Vale, lords which can add their forces to your own, adding at least another 7000 swords. And if aid in the future does not suffice, right now I can give you Dragonstone." Petyr said, smiling thinly.

OOOOOOO

That evening a pigeon alighted on a small murder whole in the outer walls of Dragonstone. There an armsmen and a servant looked at one another, pulling back from their embrace. They noticed the small message and small vial the pigeon carried and gulped nervously. But after a moment the woman got out of bed, unmindful of her nakedness, and moved toward the bird.

OOOOOOO

Throughout human history far more castles have fallen through treachery than through brute force or even starvation via sieges. So it was with Dragonstone. The servants that were Petyr's agents Dragonstone poisoned the food of the garrison one morning. Much like the poison that had been used on the Starks to get them away from Bran so that the hired footpad sent after him could finish the job, it did not hit its victims right away.

This allowed the servant to poison the entire garrison almost, minus the commander of the garrison, the lady of the House, her daughter and their personal guard, a band of twenty men. Those men were the only ones not puking their guts out when the fleet raced into the port, disgorging the Army

They tried desperately to get their fellows up on the walls to fight the attackers, but none of the men poisoned could even stand without dealing with dizzy spells that quickly ended in vomiting, The twenty men acquitted themselves magnificently killing four times their number in the battle, yet by midday the Castle was in the hands of the Targaryens once more. Even better in some ways Viserys had also captured both Selyse, Stannis' wife, and Shireen, his daughter.

Viserys smiled faintly as he sat in the seat signifying Dragonstone, examining the Painted Table, running his hands over it fondly. He had fond memories of this place, and this room in particular. His eyes narrowed however as he looked at the two women who had just been ushered in.

It was obvious that the younger one had suffered from Greyscale at some point, her pockmarked features showed that clearly. Her features were plane underneath even that, but her eyes and expression looked pleasant enough. Compared to Arianne she was nothing but dirt plain, but that could be said for most women. Selyse on the other hand looked like she had been fed sour lemons her entire life and her face was like that of a hatchet, ugly and unfeeling.

She spat defiance at him even though she was being held by some of the Dorne armsmen. "The Azor Ahai will claim you, you bastard of a misbegotten dynasty! Westeros needs none of you any longer, the future is in the flames of the one true god, not that of dragons!"

"Really?" Viserys said smiling unpleasantly as he stood abruptly, moving past the woman gesturing the woman and her guards to follow, while Shireen and her guards remained. He trooped his way up to the top of the Stone Drum, smiling as he heard the booms that had marked his childhood while here. Eventually they came out onto the top of the keep and he gestured the woman's guards to release her. Since the woman's hands were bound in back of her she was no threat.

He dragged her forward until they stood on the edge of the roof, where he let go of her to point down at the men who were even now removing the dead bodies of the defenders. Most of them had surrendered without putting up a fight, but his army had days of anger and quite a lot of their own men to avenge so Viserys couldn't have stopped the slaughter even if he wanted to.

And he didn't want to, those men had raised their swords against the true King of Westeros, they deserved whatever they received. "As you can see, I don't think your 'true god' has done much to defend you yet. You stood up my army for a week or so, that's true, but what does that matter in the end?"

"It is your victory here that does not matter." Selyse growled back, still defiant even as she stood by the side of the parapet, glaring coldly at the men, who had been too weak to defend her and hers daughter, her eyes gleaming with the madness of the fanatic. "Azor Ahai, the fist of R'hllor will come, and he will kill you all! He is the future, the only future that matters, when the one true god's touch is felt from one end of Westeros to the other and we all stand against the Great Other!"

Viserys laughed coldly. "So you would overthrow the Faith of the Seven for R'hllor? Well that is your business, I've never been a deep believer of that crap anyway. But the future, the future is not in your 'true god', or your husband. No, I believe the future is with my house, returned in triumph and with Balerion, the symbol of our power! Perhaps a closer inspection would convince you of that too!"

Without any warning he turned, grabbing her shoulder once more and flinging her off the balcony. Leaning over he shouted a Valyrian command at Balerion, who he had ridden from the ship to land below. "Catch and eat!"

Balerion looked up roaring and flapping into the air for a moment, catching the screaming woman as she fell down towards him. Her screaming ended abruptly when Balerion's jaws clamped around her body, biting it in two. He gulped down her legs in one bite before ripping at her upper body, tearing it into smaller chunks while he circled around the towers of Dragonstone, dripping blood and viscera as he went.

There were groans of disgust and fear from the men nearby, and they all hurried about their business moving away from the flying dragon as best they while Viserys made his way back down into the Stone Drum. Soon he was back in the map room, where he found his wife, the Two Sand Snakes and Petyr, who had joined the trio of women during their inspection of the castle.

Viserys motioned the man closer, ignoring Shireen's horrified stare, or the strangely pale faces of the trio of Dornish women. Evidently they had heard or seen Selyse's demise, but that was all to the good in Viserys' mind. Better they should know their fate if they worked against him in the future.

When Petyr stood near Viserys chair he spoke. "With no love lost between her and Stannis, the Florent woman was no use to me." Viserys said, once more staring at the map of Westeros lovingly. His, all his by right, and soon by strength of arms. "The daughter , are you certain that Stannis is fond of her?"

"Somewhat, as much as such a man is fond of anyone." Petyr said, hiding his internal thoughts with the ease of a lifetime of training. Have I simply traded one sadist for another?

Viserys nodded. "Good, we'll transfer her to one of the ships immediately. I'll leave a strong force here to hold Dragonstone, as well as several dozen of our Navy ships, they'll try to launch a surprise assault on whatever force is sent to recapture Dragonstone. But the main transport ships, they and a small escort will leave in a few days. I believe however that you had suggestions on where else we could go?"

Viserys suddenly chuckled, like a little boy with a new toy he wanted to show off gesturing at the giant painted map all around him. "Where exactly would you advise that we go?"

OOOOOOO

The day after Beric and his followers join the northerners Daven finally woke up from having been knocked senseless during the battle. "Ughh…What hit me?"

"That'd be my fist." said a gruff voice nearby.

Daven tried to raise one of his hands up to massage his face, only to hear faint clinking noises, and then felt both hands come up rather than one. Groggily opening his eyes Daven looked around then up at where Greatjon was riding a horse next to the prisoners on their own horses, though the prisoners were strapped to their saddles.

At the older man's grim smile Daven's memory of the battle came back to him and he shook his head with her a low moan, closing his eyes as pain flared in his head again. After a moment he looked up again, shaking his head very slightly so as not to dislodge anything permanent. "Next time use a hammer, it would be less painful!" He said tartly, but with a hint of his normal humor.

Greatjon guffawed, and several others nearby did as well with Ranma and Jon coming up on the prisoners other side. " You've been out for a few days but having taken a giant's fist to the head that's understandable." Greatjon smirked unrepentantly, and Rama rolled his eyes before staring back at Daven. "Your father has been awake for some time, and gave us your name. I'll warn you the same way I did the others. You are alive right now at my sufferance, do not try to escape and he won't be killed until you can stand trial for your deeds."

"For 'my deeds'?" Daven asked sarcastically. "What exactly does that mean?"

"So long as you didn't take part in the rape and murder of any smallfolk here in the Riverlands you'll be allowed to live." Ranma said bluntly, coldly staring into Daven's eyes. The slightly older man looked away after a moment and Ranma continued. "I won't fault you or your father or the other Lannisters for your loyalty to Tywin, though I will say it has cost your family greatly. Whatever all else happens, the Lannister's time as Lord Paramount of the Westerlands is done."

Daven wasn't the only Lannister to wince at that, but it was his father who replied. "You say that as if you've won boy, you might have beaten us, yes, but that's not the same thing as beating our family! The Lannisters have deep pockets, we can raise an army three times the one you fought here quicker than you think, so long as Casterly Keep is ours we remain the strongest lords in the Westerlands, and no army has ever taken the Rock!"

Ranma and Jon exchanged amused glance and Jon spoke up first. "Our army's done quite a few things that no one else has ever done before, and the Wolfsworn tend to do such things at least once every week." "Yes your family might have deep pockets, fat lot of good it would do them. What kind of army could you raise with it? An army of smallfolk levies, or armies of mercenaries from Essos? Please, you'd have to raise a truly monstrous army to be any real threat against ours."

"The Westerlands will be able to eventually make up the numbers they've lost if all your remaining lords work together to do it, but that would be months in the future and if you're brother doesn't capitulate, I'll be sending raiding forces into the Westerlands to burn every keep they can find." Ranma said looking over at Tywin. "Of which I have no doubt there are several, considering how we just smashed the greater majority of the Westerlands ready military strength."

Ranma went on before any of the Lannisters could reply his eyes narrowing dangerously and if in not at all humorous smirk on his face. "As for The Rock, I wouldn't be trying to take it Stafford, I would try to raze it to the ground. I have no doubt your spies told you what happened to the Twins, your keep would actually be easier to destroy in some ways."

All of the Lannisters shivered at that, falling silent for a moment before Daven spoke up again. "What will our fate be if we are acquitted of any wrongdoing outside of battle?"

"I'll probably keep a few of you as prisoners to Kevan Lannister's good conduct." Ranma said with a shrug. "His sons for example." He rolled his eyes at the youngest Lannister there, who was glaring at him hatefully. "They might not be the brightest, but I assume he cares for them anyway. As for you others, I'll either keep you as well or send you up to take the black or join Tyrion Brightwall and his knightly order."

"Tyrion Brightwall?" Daven said, and it was not his only voice raised in surprise.

"Oh yes," Ranma laughed coldly, staring at Tywin, whose face was actually showing a real emotion now, that of astonishment. "You know your son was in the North when you're daughter tried to move against my father and began this war? Yet since we captured you, you haven't asked us one question about him. I'd heard that you and Tyrion didn't have the best of relationships, and that he didn't seem to care one whit about you or most of your family, but even so."

Under Tywin's fulminating stare Ranma laughed. "We offered Tyrion a choice, immediate imprisonment until this war was over, to take the Black, or to be named Lord Commander of a new knightly order we commissioned, whose job will be to defend the Wall. He'd been doing excellent work up there on renovating and rebuilding the siege engines on the Wall and even had developed some method of communication to pass signals down its length from one end to the other, so we owed him that choice."

Jon nodded agreement, though he hadn't been part of that decision. His own thoughts turned to what could be happening up north like Ranma's had done several times since they left the Neck, while Tywin simply glared back at Ranma.

"Tyrion decided to take up our offer, and with that offer take up a new name." Ranma restrained himself from commenting on the fact that it was that decision that might allow Tyrion to become the sole main-line Lannister alive after this war was over. He was not a cruel man, though that thought came closer to the surface than it would normally have.

Talking to the smallfolk about the depredations they had been forced to endure since Tywin had led his army into the Riverlands had hardened his opinion of the man. He wasn't a monster by any means, he didn't enjoy raping or looting or pillaging, he just didn't care if those things happened while he was dealing with other problems. He was cold and unfeeling, uncaring of anyone besides his own family, a deadly combination to anyone who crossed him as had been proven time and time again since he had taken over from his father.

"So the dwarf shows he really doesn't have any honor." said Stafford laughing coldly. "The Wall is too good for him."

"So you'd choose death instead of the Black?" Jon asked sarcastically. "We said he was head of the knightly order, he'll hold land in the Gift and the New Gift after the war to come. If he survives it."

"What are you talking about? The King Beyond the Wall isn't that deadly a threat since you northerners reinforced the Wall. What other war are you talking about?" Daven said looking at the northern men, while Tywin stared off into the distance his face cold and grim unwilling to be drawn further on the subject of his son or their lack of a relationship, which apparently had driven him from the family entirely.

Ranma and Jon looked at one another then shook their heads in unison before Ranma replied. "You wouldn't believe us if we told you."

OOOOOOO

While Ranma and Jon were making their way to Raventree Hall, the two Baratheon brothers and their armies were at last facing one another further south. The rains had been especially bad, slowing Stannis' army on its march somewhat, though this had simply allowed Melisandre to catch up to them, and now the two armies were facing one another across relatively open ground.

Renly had brought over two-thirds of his army together to face his brother, outnumbering Stannis army by a large margin but no crushing one considering Stannis had brought several Stormlands lords under his sway, and Renly's need to retain forces around the city. The numbers were around 42,000 to 16,000 or so according to some of the scouts. This large a disparity in their numbers gave Renly and most of his allied lords a sense of superiority, though Randyll was quick to point out that Stannis was a cagy and dangerous foe regardless of the size of his army.

Renly had ordered a small pavilion set up well out of bow range from his own army towards the direction Stannis was coming from. Now he made his way forward along with Mace Tyrell, Randyll Tarly, Lord Fell and Lord Staedmon to the pavilion guarded by Loras and Ser Guyard Morrigen, the Lord Commander and the green of his Rainbow Guard.

Across from them Stannis made his own way forward under a flag of parlay. He was accompanied by Lord Errol, Lord Buckler, Justin Massey, Davos Seaworth, Melisandre and two of the Flame Guard who took up station across from their far more colorful fellows. The two Flame Guards openly sneered at the Rainbow Guard and their colored armor, while Loras and Guyard stared askance at the mark of the flaming heart on their shoulders, not recognizing it offhand.

Renly sat in his chair leaning back as if at ease, one leg on the table for a moment. He gestured his brother into a seat opposite him, then stared at the Lords with his brother. "Interesting brother, I recognize the colors of your commanders here, but not the men save Lord Buckler. I'd heard rumors how Lady Errol had died, in strangely unusual circumstances. How… convenient for you. And Lord Buckler. Tell me, did I ever do anything to anger you my Lord? Why have you risen in rebellion against your lawful Lord Paramount?"

Both Lords stiffened in anger though Stannis answered before either could. "These are men who need to be spoken as such by their lord, brother. If you were so wishful to act like a craven yet still retain some measure of dignity you should have retreated to the Stormlands instead of the Reach. You should have spoken to these Lords face to face rather than by raven as if they were so many minor nobles that you could simply call up upon command."

"You would know all about that wouldn't you brother, treating other people as lesser than you!" Renly replied sharply. "You've done that your entire life to everyone! Always thinking yourself so clever, so smart and so righteous, looking down your nose at everyone who isn't as stern or as cold as you. Tell me, did that extend to your wife as well? Did she find you as frigid in bed as you are in the rest of your dealings with other people?"

"Better to be too stern than too vainglorious. What have you accomplished in the last six months with this majestic army Renly? Nothing! Indeed what have you done your entire life Renly? What did you do as Master of Law? Nothing! And when it came to it, instead of supporting the Hand against the treason of the Lannisters you fled like a coward! Even now with a massive army behind you, you haven't accomplished anything! If you had marched faster you could have gotten here before the Lannisters were reinforced. If you had an ounce of courage, you could have taken the city by storm, and the plague infesting it would never have happened."

"And what have you accomplished in that same time? Despite your aspirations, you have only managed to convince a handful of Houses to follow you. Where does most of your manpower come from? The dregs of the fleet, foreign pirates and other foreign influences. And yes, I served as Master of Law, on a corrupt council where I could get nothing done, even after Eddard became Hand. What would you know of ruling, when you were given Dragonstone, a island as barren as your marriage?"

Stannis glared at him, while Mace and the Stormlands lords with him smirked a little. But Ser Seaworth spoke up before Stannis could again, standing forward and gesturing to both Baratheons with his hands, palms open in token of peace. "My lords, this is a peace parlay! I entreat you both to remember the blood you share and speak with such in mind."

"And who are you to speak to us so?" said Mace angrily from where he stood behind Renly's chair. "Some jumped up little man who was raised to be a knight because of a single act of courage?" Mace had always resented the Onion Knight, thinking that his act of running the blockade of his siege on Storm's End had allowed Stannis to survive until the Northern army arrived with news of what had happened in King's Landing.

"Of course you would know nothing of that!" Stannis growled at him in defense of his man. "Neither courage nor intelligence is something anyone has ever mentioned in conjunction with you Lord Tyrell. But Ser Seaworth is correct," he said pulling up a chair abruptly and sitting down across from his brother. "We are here to parlay. Given the fact that we both know Joffrey is illegitimate, as eldest I am Robert the First's heir, both by law and custom. Moreover I am the most experienced between us, I have commanded many a battle. I have also been Lord of Dragonstone and actually acted as such rather than leaving it to my castellan as you have Storm's End."

Stannis couldn't stop himself from getting that blow in, but it seemed to flow off Renly like water off a duck's back so he continued quickly. "I am willing to overlook the fact that you have risen against me, and will provide sworn amnesties for all that you and the lords allied with you have done since you did so if you agree to give up your false claim on the throne and stand aside so that I can deal with the plague in King's Landing."

"You have a plan to do that?" Lord Tarly asked quickly, before Renly could reply.

"I do. It is not pleasant, and it is harsh. But it will work and it will stop the plague from spreading. That is the most important thing." Stannis replied honestly.

Lord Randyll's eyes narrowed as he registered the fact that Stannis wasn't saying he would combat the plague, simply stop the spread of it. He didn't understand what he could have planned however, and stepped backwards once more, his eyes still narrowed thoughtfully.

His gaze flicked over to where Melisandre stood. She had been silent so far but she was staring at all of the lords arrayed with Renly in such a way that some of them were actually beginning to feel uncomfortable. For all that she was a woman something about those eyes told them all she was more than able and willing to kill them all if need be. It was very disconcerting, especially when added to the rumors about her powers.

For his part however Renly had concentrated on the rest of what Stannis had said. "Isn't that nice." he said smiling in a way that that showed all of his teeth. "You would give out amnesties? That is droll brother when you have an army barely half the size of the forces I have here, let alone spread out elsewhere around the city!"

"The fact that you were only able to gain the support of so few lords should tell you something brother, or are you too thick to realize that? Robert was right to pass you over for Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, you would have ruined it with your self-righteous and stubborn ways! All the world knows that Robert declared me his heir as Lord Paramount, which means I am the heir to the throne as well."

"So you would throw over all precedent and law to declare yourself his heir?" Stannis asked coldly. "What will the world come to if second or third sons can contend for lordships? Pure anarchy would result, and it would devolve not to the one who has the best claim, but the most popularity, which does not equal being the best for the job! We want stability, not further chaos, and even if you were able to make your case because of Robert's favoring you so often, we would still descend into chaos when you don't produce an heir. I note you haven't even married the Tyrell girl, you were unable to even look at her with any favor?" As Randyll and Mace both growled angrily at that, Stannis went on. "Your daughter Tyrell will remain a maid her entire life if she is forced to wed Renly."

"Exactly, Robert favored me, all the realms know it, and he showed it by naming me Lord Paramount over you, which means I would be his heir by his choice, which overrides precedent." Renly replied coolly. "And I vowed to marry Margaery the moment I sat on the Iron Throne, not a moment before. It was a wrench, but I will keep my word in that. Unlike Robert, I prefer not to leave bastards all over. Besides, what have you produced in your marriage? Nothing but a single, rather ugly and sickly girl. How would you secure the line of succession with that?"

Renly went on after a moment, shaking his head. "Practically everyone who meets you knows that you are a good general, but a king needs more than skill on the battlefield. He needs an understanding of diplomacy, the ability to understand his fellow man's point of view, a certain amount of empathy in other words, something that you lack!" Renly smirked cocking his head. "If you had those qualities, perhaps you would've been able to rally the Starks to your cause, which you should have been able to do given the fact that Eddard would probably have backed you, but as it is, you stand alone."

"Not alone." Melisandre said suddenly, her gaze now locked on Renly as if they were scorpions lining up on a ship. "The Azor Ahai never stands alone."

"And now we come to the final, and perhaps creates mark against you, brother!" Renly said triumphantly, pointing at Melisandre. "Not only do you lack allies elsewhere, but you gave over your oaths as a follower of the Seven for this foreign whore? Was that the only way you were able to discover any warmth in your bedside brother, by bringing a flame worshiper into it?

Stannis growled angrily, covering up his shock at his younger brother's accurate assault there. But Melisandre responded before he could. "Your brother is the Azor Ahai, the lord who will lead humanity against the Great Other gathering power in the north. Everything else is trivial in comparison! When winter comes and the Great Others forces march it will be the Azor Ahai who stands against them. Standing against him in turn means you are an enemy of all life."

The words were strange and disturbing, but Melisandre spoke them with such conviction and power that more than one listener actually shivered for a moment. It was as if they could feel the chill of winter already coming upon them for a moment.

For his part however Renly was immune. He shook his head, contempt written plain on his face. "I do not know how you pulled the wool over my brothers eyes Witch, but you will not do the same to me. This 'Great Other' is nothing to concern us here in the south. Magic has long been declining, this is merely a seasonal resurgence as it were. Winter will come, then it will go as it normally, does a year or two at best. Your words are nothing, simply a cover for your own ambitions."

The last winter had occurred during the Greyjoy Rebellion, fourteen years ago. Renly wasn't the only one there who could barely remember it, and that winter had been short, less than a year long, and the last winter before that hadn't even reached past the next for more than a few months in the Riverlands. The history of the Long Night had long been forgotten in the South. And his contempt for magic was equally understandable, since the Faith of the Seven had no place for it save as a force of evil.

With a final shake of his head, Renly turned back to Stannis. "I am Robert's chosen heir brother. Cease this folly, and I will forgive you and the lords who have followed you, giving you royal pardons, even the Witch. More, I will name you my Hand and place you in command of the army when we have to deal with the Ironborn and the Lannisters. That is the best offer you're going to get."

Stannis stood up abruptly. "This talk is going nowhere. As your older brother, I am giving you this one chance lay down your arms, surrender yourself and you and your followers will be given amnesty. But if you do not, you will die, and I will break your army."

"If you think you can brother then we will meet you on the battlefield." Renly growled, letting his self-control slip for a moment as he too stood up.

The two groups glared at one another, before Stannis turned without another word leaving the pavilion. Melisandre was last to go staring at Renly coldly. "That Azor Ahai has spoken, look to your soul Renly Baratheon." Renly sneered at her, and she turned, leaving with a flutter of her red dress heading out into the rain.

OOOOOOO

Plague. The news had percolated into the collective mind of King's Landing barely a week ago. Bodies had begun to turn up not in ones and twos but in dozens, all of them with the same symptoms, a day or more of coughing followed by coughing up their lungs, blood on their mouths before their hearts and lungs simply gave up unable to keep the body going. And the smallfolk had panicked. Wildfire burned here and there in the city, huge conflagrations spreading everywhere and only burning out slowly when they ran out of fuel. Yet even that couldn't keep the rioters from spreading, and with them came the plague into new portions of the city. Soon enough even the wildfire of the alchemists ran out and with it the last measure of control the royal family had on the city.

Where there had been a few thousands here and there rioting, now the city was boiling, hundreds of thousands trying to get away trying to get out of the city or out off the port. Yet the ships of Saan's fleet had heard about the plague as well thanks to Varys and every ship out there was unwilling to let any other ship close to them. Dozens of ships were sunk and burned at the mouth of the Blackwater and not one of them escaped.

The men on the cities wall defended the towers that led up to the wall, but they quickly lost the trebuchets and every other portion of the city that they had previously controlled, losing hundreds of men to the rioters. Here and there along the wall a tower was lost, and the city's population quickly tried to escape over the wall many dozens falling to their deaths as their makeshift rope or ladders gave way under their weight. But the moment they landed the Stormlands/Reach army took them under bow fire, making certain to stay well away from the bodies. There was no escape from the city that way. Even the rubble around the seven gates had been pushed aside here and there, and it was all the men the guard towers could do to keep control of them.

King's Landing was now a hellhole beyond anything Lord Serret had ever imagined as thousands died every day. Rupert had known this might occur, and had pulled the High Septon in earlier, as well as over two thousand more guardsmen for the Red Keep and some more foodstuffs as well. They were still being forced to slaughter the food animals faster than he would've liked, but he had rather grimly retained several hundred horses in the stables of the keep.

So far there hadn't been any cases of plague inside the keep thanks to the actions he and the Queen had taken before the plague had spread very far. But Rupert knew it was just a matter of time, and he was busy thinking of ways out of the city for the Royal family, a token guard force and himself

The city is lost. That thought was a bitter one, but no less true for all of that. We did everything we could, both to defend the city and try to control the spread of the plague, but in the end we just didn't have enough men to pull it off! Now King's Landing is lost, not just to us, but to everyone. No one is going to be brave enough to step foot in this place until the plague has run its course. The largest city of Westeros, the home of its best artisans, its most magnificent works, the Red Keep and all of its history and knowledge. All of it, slowly turning into a mausoleum. But I might still be able to do my duty to my queen… oh and her brat too.

Joffrey had not impressed Rupert from the first, and his reaction to Petyr's betrayal and flight had solidified Rupert's low opinion of him. Joffrey refused to see why Edmure's torture and murder was a horrifying stain on House Lannister's honor, and refused to consider the proof that pointed to Baelish as the Vile one. If he could show some more of his mother's intelligence rather than looks he might amount to something but as it is… Rupert sighed. That didn't even consider the fact that he didn't have any outward reaction to seeing Edmure's mutilated body. That showed a disturbing lack of feeling, even for an enemy.

Just then, one of his guards rushed in. "My Lord, the watcher on the Hand's Tower says they've spotted another army coming up behind the besiegers. It's coming from the Northwest."

Lord Serret frowned thoughtfully then nodded his head, thanked the man calmly and sent them off to prepare the defenders. He then raced down the staircase himself, looking for the queen and her brother. I think this might just be the opportunity I was waiting for.

About twenty minutes after Rupert had been warned about the second army the remaining small council met in Cersei's drawing room. "We have an opportunity here." Rupert said earnestly after informing them of Stannis' arrival. My queen, it's still your opinion that the two Baratheon brothers will not reach an agreement?"

"Yes, as I've said all along" Cersei said definitively. "Stannis has no give in him at all, he does not care about other people's positions, he'll listen to others opinions, but rarely. And he has always looked down on Renly simply because he's untried in war, and is a bit of a fop. And he resented the way he was cast aside by Robert, who favored Renly in practically every way possible. Renly in turn looks down on Stannis because he is a cold fish and bases his claim on the throne on Robert's favoritism. It is a vicious circle, that Robert set in motion from the moment he took the throne."

Rupert nodded, willing to take Cersei's word on this. He had never met either Baratheon brother, so had no personal knowledge to base their actions on. "In that case, we definitely have a opportunity here. Renly weakened the cordon around the city, emptying some and drawing down the number of men he has in some of their small forts."

He gestured to one of his aides, who flattened out a makeshift map of the defenses set up around the city, the small forts built here and there along with markers denoting which house was in charge of which fort. "I think we definitely have a chance." he said motioning to a few of the symbols, signifying the forts north of the city, one on the road to Rosby and the other halfway between that one and another holding position on the Kingsroad. "Three minor houses hold this fort together: Hunt, Inchfield and Redding. Command by committee never works, they won't be a formed force, especially if they can see the battle going on elsewhere, or at the very least can hear it.

"Even better for our purposes, House Florent holds the fort on the road to Rosby. I doubt they're very enthusiastic supporters of Renly's cause, given how Stannis married into their family. And I doubt any of the men they could tap for command of their field army has any real experience."

Unlike the two Baratheons, Rupert had met Lord Alester Florent, and had a very low opinion about the man's competence. "It might be his son, who from what I remember is untried in anything but the joust. Once the two stags lock horns, we can use various means to get our men out of the city and into the slums along the bay, then sortie out against House Florent here.

"Where would we go after that?" Cersei asked. "Varys told us weeks ago that Stannis had destroyed Stokeworth, and Rosby was destroyed even before that."

That might have caused trouble with the men those Houses sent to aid King's Landing, nearly their full military might. But Rupert had acted ruthlessly, rotating them down into the city to aid the Gold Cloaks in trying to keep order before the news became general. They were stuck there, caught between the riots of the smallfolk about food and the outer wall's keeps. It had cost the defenders badly, but their sacrifice (in the truest sense of the word) had also robbed many of the riots of their strength before they could reach the outer walls. When the survivors rejoined their fellows, they were a beaten force, leaderless and easily added to the command of other lords.

"We could make first for Sow's Horn. It might not be the best castle but it will do for an initial destination, then we can take the Kingsroad up into the Riverlands and hope to find your father and his army there."

"You mean the same army that is retreating with its tail between its legs?" Joffrey said contemptuously. "If grandfather was as good a general as everyone said he was, he would've smashed the Starks already and come to our rescue here! Then we wouldn't have to run like craven cowards! I can't believe we're even talking about this! I am King, I will not retreat from my own capital!"

Rupert's jaw clenched and he was about to respond hotly when Cersei did it for him. "Enough of that." she said sharply looking at her son, who looked startled at her actually talking back to him like that. "Your grandfather is doing his best, and even the best of generals is beaten at times. Besides, he might have underestimated Ranma at first, but now that he has a true measure of Ranma's abilities, he will take them into account. And we are not so much running away from our physical opponents as we are fleeing the plague. The plague will not care if you are King my son, the plague will kill us all eventually."

Over the weeks since the plague had begun Cersei had become increasingly paranoid about becoming sick. She took baths every few hours, stayed away from practically everyone but her family, and ordered two servants tossed out of the keep after she had seen them coughing. And the lack of good food was finally having a detrimental effect on her health. Where before she had simply slimmed down, losing the weight she had put on in drink and rich foods over the years, now she looked gaunt and wan.

From where he was sitting next to Cersei as the Lord commander of the Kingsguard, Jaime looked at his sister worriedly. The two of them had several nights together before the siege began, but ever since Cersei had thrown herself into anything she could to keep the Red Keep going and watching over her son. And truth be told Jaime had lost the stomach for such activities as well. Now though, he was becoming more concerned about her health with every passing day.

Joffrey scowled, but knew he couldn't argue with his mother's logic. Like Cersei, he truly was frightened of the plague, which was why he had forcibly controlled his baser urges lately. Even so, four of the servants had disappeared in the days after he had finished with Edmure. But since Petyr had been blamed for the so-called depredations of the Vile One, and noting the outrage and loathing in his mother and the Hand, he had been forced to stop. Joffrey really didn't understand why anyone cared one way or another about his toys, they were all smallfolk after all and smallfolk were like weeds: they always cropped up again.

By this point Rupert had calmed down a little and nodded. "The Queen Regent is correct, and though we have all done our best to keep the Red Keep free from plague, it is only a matter of time. It would only take one rat who had bitten into a dead body to be missed by the cats, and suddenly we'll be dealing with the outbreak in here. Even setting aside the pandemic, our supply situation is getting grim. If we will decide to make a run for it, we need to do so now, before we're forced to start butchering our horses for food."

"Very well, I suppose that retreating to join grandfather in the field makes some sense given the outbreak. It's galling, but I can deal with it. "

For his part Varys simply smiled thinly. While he would be perfectly willing to go with the rest of the small council in this escape from the city wishing to get away from the outbreak as much as anyone would, he knew that their plan to find Tywin and his army would fail. He had gotten two disjointed reports about the dragons being sighted on the southern side of the Red Fork, and of Harroway falling before another message came in which said Tywin's army had been utterly demolished, though it didn't go into much detail.

No, the Lannister cause is finished, I've done my part as well as I may here. The question then becomes, should I offer my services to Renly, to the Starks, or try to make my way to Dragonstone, where my lone remaining agent on Driftmark reports a dragon circling? Or make my way elsewhere to await the arrival of mine and Illyrio's true scorpion bolt? Regardless, leaving the city at this point is an excellent idea. I certainly don't want to remain anywhere near Stannis' reach.

Of course no one else knew anything about Varys' inner thoughts, and Joffrey continued to speak. "Yet what is your full plan Lord Hand? I doubt we can get our entire defensive force out of the city without the smallfolk immediately trying to break out in droves behind us. And even if we could, many of them might be contaminated by the plague?"

He looked over at Pyrcelle who nodded his head wearily. Of them all, he had been the one who had been most involved with attempting to combat the spread of the plague, and that, coupled with his age, had made the siege conditions hit him all the harder. "Yes. It's been difficult for me to get accurate numbers with the Red Keep now in total lockdown, but my servant's are still able to get occasional messenger pigeons to me. Their best estimate is at least half of the wall garrison is showing signs of the plague. I think we could take a chance on a third of them, the men of House Harte and Edgerton men for the most part, situated on the wall facing the Lion's Gate at present."

"Hmm… we might be able to do something there, if we can move them along the wall and switch them with the men now holding the northern area of the wall. Can we do that without risking them becoming sick?"

Pyrcelle frowned. "From what I was able to find out before being locked in the Red Keep, the disease spreads through one person coughing on another, direct physical contact, exchange of fluids and perhaps can linger in things like bedding and clothes. If we do that and then immediately send them over the wall after ordering them to not touch anything in the barracks there, and not to let any of the men touch them in turn, we might be able to. But I don't think we should chance it for the entire group. A smaller number of men might be able to get away with it."

"We will have to chance it with the Edgerton men, not the Harte men then." Rupert mused aloud. Before Joffrey could say anything about leaving one of his favorite lords behind, Rupert went on answering his questions. "Harte's seat is northwest of the city, and isn't a good enough defensive position to let us hold up there if the winner between the battling stags comes after us there. Edgerton on the other hand has a castle near the Riverlands border, and we might be able to stop there before moving on. Now, here is what I propose…"

OOOOOOO

That evening Renly and many of his lords began to celebrate as if they had already won the battle. All of them were confident that their numerical superiority, coupled with the forts that backed their current position, plus the ones built across the Blackwater that protected their left flank, would see them through to victory. Mace and several of his friends were there, as well as every young Lord or heir, though Randyll was not, nor were a few other of the more experienced lords.

But those weren't the only lords missing. If anyone had bothered to look around they would have seen that Lord Dunn, Lord Norcross, Uffering and several others were missing. And if someone though about it, they would have realized that the missing lords and knights were all those who had lands on the Mander or near it. But seeing as most of those lords were not among the young men that Renly had made friends with, or the most influential, no one did.

Many of the Rainbow Guard were present ostensibly on guard but not really, simply taking part in the festivities. Loras was there as their commander, though he alone amongst those present was not in a festive mood. He stood quietly in one corner of the massive tent getting quietly drunk. Loras was used to being the center of attention, or at least standing to one side of said center of attention. Since his injuries he had found himself on the outside looking in, and he did not like the experience.

I have to confront him tonight, he thought to himself sadly. There's a battle going on tomorrow, we could both die and I will not go into that battle with this looming over my head! Loras and Renly had not slept together since Loras is the initial confrontation of him. He's always coming up with excuses to get away, but not this time! He watched Renly from his corner of the tent, noticing suddenly how he and Emmon Cuy seemed to be friendlier than he had noticed in the past. Could it be…?

An interminable time later, Renly stood up from his chair, weaving in place for a moment as if falling down drunk before making his excuses to the partygoers. Mace and the others all ribbed him good-naturedly but didn't stop Renly as he left the tent. He was followed by Emmon ostensibly in his role as the Rainbow Guard on duty at present, while the other man who should have been on duty, Bryce Caron, was waved back to where he was speaking to his bastard brother, Rolland Storm.

Loras watched them go with narrowed eyes then waited several moments before following them out, unnoticed by any of the others, even his father who was looking quite tipsy himself by that point. He followed them towards Renly's tent, which was set up about fifty feet away from the command tent so that people could come and go from the command tent without waking Renly up. But rather than barge in, Loras decided to go towards the back of the tent and wait there for a time to see if he could find out if his new worries were justified. They were.

"You know we shouldn't be doing this." Murmured Emmon's voice, slightly deeper and less musical than Renly's."If word gets out, house Tyrell and all of my fellow Reach lords will turn on us both. You're supposed to be marrying Margaery after all.

"And I will do my duty with her when the time comes," said Renly, then there was a sound that might have been kissing for a moment and Loras began to see red. A moment the sound stopped and Renly's voice went on, slightly deeper than normal. "Until then, I can take joy in own personal preferences. Are you complaining?"

By that point Loras had heard enough. Swiftly making his way around the tent he got barged in growling angrily. "So this is what your 'love' is worth?"

Emmon and Renly had been in the middle of the tent, their arms around one another though Emmon was still wearing his armor. His sword however was leaning against one of the tent's outer poles, which Emmon now suddenly regretted. The two of them sprang apart as Loras entered. Renly sputtered for a moment, caught red-handed."Loras, I, wait, it's not what you…"

"It's precisely what I think!" Loras replied the volume of his voice rising with each word. He stalked forward one hand thrusting out hard to put Emmon on his rear for a moment when he tried to step between Loras and Renly. Then Loras was facing Renly from barely a foot away, staring into that handsome, once-loved face angrily. "Is this why you haven't made time for me, you were making time for someone else!? Did you use the same words you did with me when I was your squire to lure Emmon into your bed, or were you honest with him, saying you would cast him aside the moment he wasn't pretty enough for you any longer!?"

"Keep your voice down Seven damnit!" Renly said, motioning with his hands for Loras to calm down. "I know this looks bad, but both of us were drunk, you can't hold…"

"I can certainly hold it against you!" Loras interrupted him hotly, one hand on his sword hilt as he continue to glare at Renly.

To one side Emmon got to his feet slowly, backing away from the confrontation and making for his own sword just in case.

Loras noticed this and stepped backwards slightly to keep both of them in his line of sight, though he was still glaring angrily at Renly. "I have half a mind to go to my father right now and tell him precisely what your marriage agreement with our family is worth! Perhaps Stannis was right to suggest you wouldn't be able to perform with my sister, or would you simply turn her around, cover her head with a pillow and pretend she was a boy, you fucking bastard?!"

"No! Loras I was drunk! This was the first time, with the battle looming I was, I just needed to…" Renly stuttered, trying to think of words that would calm Loras down, but knowing that this really did look very bad.

However Renly was saved just then by something completely unexpected. With the sound of tearing silk the back flap of the tent was suddenly cut asunder, and a creature of shadow stepped in. Thinner and taller than a normal man, it still looked noticeably human-like, it even had facial features though none of the young men present could recognize them. In one hand it held a blade of deepest shadow, yet it was still a sword for all of that. It's eyes glowed slightly, and they seemed to lock on Renly.

All three of the young men broke off from their confrontation staring at the creature arrange astonishment. Loras drew his blade from its sheath, holding the sword at the ready while Emmon did same as Renly staggered back towards his own, set beside his cot. "What, what is it?"

"Those rumors of the Red Witch's powers might have been more accurate than we thought." Loras said tightly, stepping forward to meet the creature. "Seven Banish you!" He shouted, bringing his sword up and about in a quick, flashing arc.

The shadow thing blocked his blade, reaching out with a clawed hand that nearly caught Loras in the face, forcing him to dodge back. To one side Emmon raced forward, his sword flashing out. The blade impacted the shadow creature on his shoulder.

For a moment there seemed to be some resistance there. The limb fell to the creature's side, not responding from the shoulder down as a human's would struck in the same manner. But in response the creature's foot flashed out, catching Emmon in the chest with a kick that doubled him over, cracking his armor and the ribs underneath.

Emmon let go of his sword for a moment in agony and it fell to the ground, falling completely through the shadow monster. With that impediment gone its arm seemed to work once more. Still blocking Loras' continued assault with its own blade it pushed him back. The shadow creature then stopped directly next to the downed Emmon, and punched down with its offhand. There was a sound of tearing metal, and Emmon Cuy died as a thing punched through his back plate and deep into his back, severing his spine before finding his heart and crushing it. "GAHHHhhhhh….."

By this time Renly had found his own sword and pulled it out, leaping forward to join Loras in battling the creature. "To arms, Seven damn it!"

Loras didn't even spare him a glance simply yelling out. "Be careful, this things much stronger than it looks, don't try to block it unless you absolutely have to, just redirect or dodge!"

Despite their recent estrangement the two of them had practiced together for years and worked well together. Yet their blades simply couldn't do any damage to the creature, every time one of them got through its defenses, their blades would impact its body, thrusting or slashing. Yet nothing seems to do any permanent damage. The moment their blades left his body it would regain full function.

The noise of combat however had spread, and more of the Rainbow Guard came running from the party still going on, even Randyll and the others who had retired for the night were riled by the ongoing clamor. Robar was the first to arrive, having just left the command tent himself as the noise began. He raced towards Renly's tent, pausing outside the tent for a moment to stare down at his sword in astonishment. The blade had been a gift from his father, one of several ancestral longswords that their family-owned. But since Bronze Yohn favored greatswords, he didn't really have much use for the others in their collection. But this sword and many of the others the family-owned had some of the same runes that were cut into Yohn's armor, which supposedly kept him from injury.

Robar had long been skeptical about that claim, partly because it reeked of magic. While his father followed the old gods, he followed the faith of the seven, which had no place for magic. Moreover, none of those runes on his father's armor had ever showed actual signs of magic, which Robar had long since decided meant they were simple the runes set into the hilt and blade of his sword had just begun to glow a pale yellow color. But Robar shook off his shot at that, continuing to race toward his king's tent.

As he burst into the tent he was confronted with a thing of magic that made his sword pale in comparison, halting Robar in his tracks. The shadow creature was slowly gaining ground against the two warriors inside. He hesitated a moment, watching Loras rather desperately dodge a clawed hand that would have caught him in the neck, twisting his body around to block the sword that was even then seeking Renly's side, where he had overextended for a moment.

The sight of his king almost being impaled shook Robar out of his stunned state, and he raced forward, his blade lashing out. "Have at you, creature!"

The creature turned, almost negligently throwing Loras off its blade to lock swords with Robar, but this gave Loras and Renly enough time to set themselves once again and attack. Their blades impaled the thing's side and armor and Loras howled in fury as they once again did nothing to the creature. "Father judge you, what does it take to kill you monster!"

The shadow beast of course didn't reply, simply flinging Robar back before turning its blade back to the other two. Renly ignored Loras' earlier advice for a moment, blocking the incoming blows since he couldn't dodge without losing his balance. Even so he was flung to the floor, his blade actually warped by the force of the blow. The creature lifted a foot to stop on himit's sword once more occupied with Loras then screamed in such a high pitch that it was more felt than heard. "SCREEEEEEE!"

Robar had rolled from where he had hit after the creature had flung him back then, his sword held in both hands he lunged forward, at the creature's back. His blade stabbed into the creature point first then the runes which had heretofore simply been glowing dully, flared to life. A hard bright yellow color blossomed out, nearly blinding all three of the young man in the tent and even a few outside who had been racing towards it from the command tent. The shadow creature was destroyed by whatever magic was on the blade, turning into nothing but quickly dissipating smoke.

For a moment all was silent in the tent, then the other people who had heard the sound of battle burst in, staring around in consternation. Robar ignored themall however, simply staring down at his blade, where the runes had gone back to glowing a dull yellow, though somewhat brighter than they had been before he stabbed it into the shadow monster. "I think, that I owe my father an apology." He said softly.

"What happened here?" Mace growled angrily, pushing his way to the front. He gasped as he saw Emmon's dead body, then his son's exhausted frame leaning against the main tent pole while Renly simply pulled himself to his knees on the floor before wearily pushing himself to his feet. The two of them had been forced to push themselves incredibly fast to keep up with the pace of the shadow being's movements even for the few moments it had taken Robar to arrive, and now their bodies demanding payment.

Renly thought quickly. "I was about to take off my armor, I had to take care of a call of nature first. By that time Loras had joined Emmon outside guarding me, we spent a few moments talking, I hate to say it, I tried to actually convince the two of them that I didn't need the both of them guarding me, but I'm glad I didn't! During our discussion that thing cut its way through the back of my tent and attacked us!" He sighed sadly. "Emmon died in the first few moments, nothing we could do seemed to hurt it."

"We were in dire straits ourselves until Robar arrived. Why did your blade work when ours didn't Robar?" Renly asked. He moved over to stare down at the sword that Robar was still holding out in front of him, staring at it in both awe and suspicion.

"The glowing symbols on it are supposedly runes of the First Men Your Majesty, though I'd never believed they had any actual power before this. You know my father's reputation about wearing bronze armor with these scribbles marked out on it but I'd never seen anything from them either. Magic really is coming back into the world…"

"For better or for worse." Renly growled out shaking his head angrily. "I thank you for your timely intervention my knight, and you Loras for your defense of me." He stared at his former lover, willing the man to keep silent about what had really occurred tonight.

The man somehow seemed to get the message, turning away from Renly but remaining silent. Loras had not forgotten his anger at Renly, but seeing that shadow beast had reminded him that there was more going on here than just his own issues. He still wasn't certain if he was willing to go to war for Renly now, not after what he had seen before the shadow creature arrived and the realization that Renly had never really loved him.

Breathing a mental sigh of relief Renly turned back to Mace, and the just arrived Randyll, who had Heartsbane, a Valyrian greatsword, in his ready grip. "This needs to be answered promptly! My lords, ready the army for combat, we attack tonight!"

Randyll made to speak out, but at Renly's angry glare he silenced himself, especially since all of the other Reach lords were also muttering angrily and nodding their heads ferociously. He instead merely nodded his head, and left the tent quickly.

OOOOOOO

Melisandre came out of her semi-trance shaking her head. R'hllor's recently heightened favor had several amazing advantages, but one disadvantage was that Shadow Assassins were not nearly as hard to see as they had been before. They were also much more solid. Where before a Shadow Assassin could have floated into the false King's tent this new, more powerful version had to cut its way in, giving Renly and those inside warning.

She idly wondered why she got the impression of the beast fighting three people then two then three again, but her control over Shadow Assassins was tenuous, even compared to her control over Shadow Warriors. The Warriors she could direct and somewhat control their actions, giving them broad orders they would obey unless they went against the creature's very nature. With Shadow Assassins Melisandre could only give them their target, a few orders along the lines of how best to avoid being seen, and then after they left her physical presence could only ride their minds in a very vague manner rather than influence it.

She cursed however, knowing her assassin's failure meant that they would have to go with Stannis' second plan. In some ways she was happy to do so, but her own role in it was quite distasteful. I loathe the fact that we have to act like this, curse the devil Seven and the strange dictates of honor they have impressed upon their dupes! Still, the Azor Ahai has a point, the spread of the one true god amongst our own men is slow, and we need to separate Stannis from this assassination attempt in his lords minds. He cannot seen to be connected to such, not when the target is his own brother anyway. If only it had succeeded without anyone seeing anything, curse it!

With that in mind, Melisandre stood up, waving her acolytes back down before moving out of the tent and into the tent next door, which was Stannis's. He was awake as she had known he would be, ostensibly going over plans for tomorrow's action but in reality simply pacing inside waiting for news. He turned to her one eyebrow raised as she entered the tent.

Melisandre quickly crossed to him, bowing her head formally. "The attempt has failed my Lord. Somehow the Shadow Assassin was dissipated. I would assume it was because of a Valyrian blade."

Stannis frowned for a moment, thinking of which houses he knew had Valyrian blades. Tarly has one I know, but which others? I suppose it doesn't matter right now. He looked at Melisandre closely. "You know what that means don't you? Are you ready to do your part?"

"I am, though this will be unpleasant."

"So long as you act your roll out well, the outcome will be the same." Stannis replied coldly. He had never been in favor of simply assassinating Renly. If Renly had been assassinated with no witnesses that would have been one thing, and the upshot of such was worth the attempt, but if there were witnesses they could pin it on Melisandre. The rumors of Melisandre's abilities had spread too far for anything else at this point, and while the Stormlanders would possibly switch their allegiance to him, the Reach lords would not be willing to serve Stannis in that event. Assassination was against the knightly code after all, and that pile of excrement was believed in the Reach far more than in any other realm of Westeros save the North.

None of them would understand that it was simply politics taken to the next level, they would take it as a personal affront and might well attack Stannis' forces even if they didn't have a candidate for kingship with them. Or worse, they could retreat then sent overtures to the dragon girl and the Starks. The Reach had after all been loyal to the Targaryens to the end. The thought of the Starks, Riverlanders and Reach armies joining together was a daunting one.

No, to combat that potential disaster Stannis needed a victory. He needed to show his skill as a general in no uncertain terms, have Renly die in open combat and possibly wear way the Reach forces somewhat just in case. So he had been ready for the assassination to fail, and indeed had a little surprise prepared in the area directly in front of his army's lines. The rain has been especially helpful there, and knowing my brother he will push for a night battle, where Melisandre's Shadow Warriors will do their jobs very well indeed.

"I am prepared to do my part to deceive the followers of the devil Seven, Azor Ahai." Melisandre said, bowing her head once more.

Stannis nodded, then without further ado lashed out with one fist, his blow smacking into the side of Melisandre's face and sending her flying as he roared. "You stupid bitch! I never gave that order! I'll have no truck with such acts! The next time you do something like this, I'll kill you myself!"

With that he turned and strode out of the tent, passing the five Flame Guard who had been about to enter the tent their faces so showing shock and concern. "You five, watch her." He ordered in a loud voice, noting out of the corner of his eyes as his Lord commanders' came out of their tent at a rush. "She is to be kept separated from the rest of the Army, is that understood?"

"As the other lords and his commanders ran up to Stannis, he turned to Melisandre. "I'll have you flogged for this!" He hissed in an angry voice. "R'hllor might be the one true God, but such acts like that will never be allowed in Westeros!

He turned to his commanders and waved a hand at the woman who was slowly getting to her feet, a bruise already forming on her cheek and jaw from his blow. "This fool of a woman has sent an assassin against my brother." he said without preamble. "She wished to keep the two armies from fighting, stating that we would need all the men we could get to combat the Great Other that she sees coming with the onset of winter.

"Fool woman thought I would be pleased with it!" He snarled the words then shook his head and went on. "The attempt failed, and we need to deal with the fallout. My brother will respond to this affront quickly, we need to be ready for combat now! We'll be sending her Warriors to do their part, but we need to be ready here as well."

Melisandre allowed herself to be pulled away, her head bowed submissively even as her eyes glanced at the lords, and she exalted inside at what she saw. None of them had even flinched at the mention of her warriors, who they had been told about the day before, though they were looking at her askance for the assassination attempt. That meant that both Stannis's words were being believed and that the reality of her magic was slowly wearing away their belief in the Seven. Soon they too will convert, and with them many of their men!

Only Davos was still looking at her distrustfully. But in his case, the fact that Stannis was obviously doing what he could to control her seemed to calm him down. He would need to be dealt with in time, but for now, the response from the other lords was good enough for now.

Brilliant Melisandre thought to herself as she was brought back to her own tent, her acolytes forced to leave her there for now. The act itself was rather irritating, but the outcome is all I could hope for. Now when the Azor Ahai wins this battle we will be well on our way to forming an army capable of standing against the hordes of the Great Other.

OOOOOOO

Renly's response to the attempted assassination was to organize a night assault, but not a normal night assault, a fully heavy cavalry charge in the middle of the night. With the full moon above them and a few torches Renly felt the knights would have enough light to see by, if barely. Within an hour fully 8,000 heavy cavalry road out, while the rest of the army was still preparing to move forward to engage Stannis's forces. The command had been given to Lord Phineas Cordwayner and his sons who accepted it eagerly.

However Stannis's army had already begun to move, not forward, but back during the Lord Phineas and his troops rode through the area where Stannis's army had supposedly been, all they found was their tents left behind. "Where the hell did they go?" He growled angrily, unwilling to give up the chance of glory that would occur if he was able to get in the first blow against Stannis.

One of his men rode up, bowing from the saddle. "Milord, our scouts report that Stannis's army has retreated back and to the south along the Blackwater, they have taken a position there. "Their torches are visible all around, they seem to have prepared positions there." Actually the army had retreated back there the moment night came, while the fake camp remained behind.

"Good! Reform the men for another charge, this time well march until we can see who they, are then charge. That will hopefully give the sun enough time to rise."

The men around Phineas nodded, grim faced. None of one of them had liked charging through the night. It had been highly unpleasant, even carrying torches as they were and with the moon above them. Luckily the sun was rising in the west, and soon enough they would have more light to see by despite the fact it would be an overcast day. Frankly Stannis' retreat worked in their favor really, allowing the Cordwayners to reform their men.

Lord Phineas reformed his force while behind them the rest of Renly's army began to coalesce, moving forward in divisions under its respective Lords. As the Sun finally rose high enough in the sky to give them light, Phineas and his men set off once more, still leading the Stormlands-Reach army along the Blackwater.

OOOOOOO

Lord Godrick Pommingham sighed sadly as he stared out at the Reach army, which was rousing itself to the south of the fort he had been given command of. He had been given command of this fort because his men were excellent shots with the catapult set near the small fort in a small, wooden-walled enclosure, and his family had supplied more archers than heavy cavalry. As such, Renly and the Tyrells had overlooked him when they were choosing commanders for the portion of the Stormlands/Reach army that would be used against Stannis.

He, the Norridge, Roxton and a few of the smaller Stormlands Houses, Wensington and Wylde had all been sidelined for this battle, defending the forts directly behind and to the right flank of the reformed portion of the army. Ostensibly they were there in case Stannis was able to send a column around Renly's force to attack them from the flank, but Godrick knew the truth. There was simply not enough glory to go around, and the King had been forced to play favorites.

Renly had originally split his reformed army into three different camps for hygiene reasons and for strategic ones. This way, if one portion of the army was attacked by Stannis, the other portions could come in and surround him from his flanks. One portion, Renly's, was directly in front of the forts held by Wensington and Roxton, with Wylde and Pommingham's own protecting its back and left flank.

The other two portions were smaller than that one, in comparison to Renly's 20,000 men, with a large portion of the army's cavalry represented in Renly's command and Lord Tyrell's, which was situated behind and to the north of Renly's, the two camps separated by Pommingham and Wylde's forts and about five leagues. The other force, under lord Staedmon, was to the south and west of Renly's. A reserve was also on the other side of the Blackwater, numbering only about five thousand.

I wonder what happened to make Renly organize a night assault like that. Godrick thought idly. He saw no reason why a heavy cavalry charge wouldn't work at night, so that didn't bother him so much as Renly's desire to send such an attack at all. Still, it doesn't matter to us here. We're well out of it.

"Wha-gahh!"

"'Ware monster!To arms, to arghhh!"

Godrick turned from viewing Renly's cavalry marching out to stare in shock at several creatures seemingly made of shadow and smoke had apparently climbed up the wall of his fort, cutting into his men with ease. As he watched one of them cut a man in half, his bow raised so desperately in defense not even slowing the thing's dark blade.

For a moment the sight robbed Godrick of the ability to think, his feet rooted to where he stood. By the time he turned to run, four of the creatures were on his fort's roof, and dozens of his men were dead. One of them bounded after Godrick, catching him before he could get to the makeshift stairs leading down into the fort. It tore off his leg with one arm, causing Godrick to scream aloud.

The other three quickly moved around Godrick, heading down into his fort where, Godrick suddenly realized, they would slaughter his men unless they ran. He hoped they would, but that hope was in vain. Another Shadow warrior had entered the fort from its gate, and would hold it so long as the night lasted.

Godrick himself stared up at the distorted features of his killer, mumbling a prayer before the thing's blade speared him through the chest. "Seven defend the Faith…!"

OOOOOOO

As dawn broke wet and warm Phineas took in the defenses that Stannis had thrown up at a glance. There weren't too many of them, but he seemed to want use large wooden barricades set deep into the earth to funnel the heavy cavalry charge into various segments. But Phineas could see where there were several areas that they hadn't been set yet, especially close by the Blackwater. Behind them, men stood, some with polearms, but mostly archers and swordsmen.

For ten minutes Phineas organized his men, giving his two sons command of some of them, and keeping the majority of the men under his own command as they raced forward, using their banners to direct the men. About 2000 men under his sons went for one of the other breaks in the barricades further north along Stannis' lines, while Phineas led about 6,000 heavy cavalry in a charge that was much deeper than it was long at the break along the Blackwater's edge.

Arrows began to fly from Stannis' army, and Phineas laughed as several of them hit his armor only to bounce off. "Hah, craven bastards, arrows do nothing against true knights!" Arrows truly weren't very good against heavy plate armor at range, and Phineas had always looked down on archers because of that.

Halfway across the distance between his starting point and the opposing army's lines Phineas couched his lance and urged his horse into a gallop. He shouted aloud "For the Reach!"

About a hundred yards before they would hit the break in the barricades and begin to flank Stannis's army equine screams began to render the morning air. Horses in the front rows went down screaming, their hooves pierced by caltrops that had been thrown out all around the and there men rode into their downed fellows trampling them under their feet, but even that wasn't the main problem to continuing the charge.

Phineas had not been able to tell that the ground all around the front of Stannis' lines was muddy and very wet. The Blackwater occasionally flooded its banks here, which Stannis had known and taken advantage of. The ground was not quite a quagmire, but it was certainly enough to slow down horses with full loads. The front few ranks had churned it nicely for the others, and now all of them were getting bogged down, their horses unable to move very in the mud slowing down dramatically. Indeed the entire charge was becoming bogged down, horses unable to move forward because of the mud or their exhausted fellows all around.

"Now!" shouted a voice from the enemy army's lines, and while arrows continued to fly into the bogged down heavy cavalry thousands of infantry raced out, their lighter armor allowing them to move much more easily in the muddy conditions. Half of them were armed with long makeshift spears, while the others were armed with maces and short swords, weapons that could be used to deadly effect if they could get in under their opponent's reach.

Bogged down as they were the heavy cavalry lost its most important advantage, momentum. No heavy cavalryman could defend himself from every direction, and that was what you had to do when you had several infantrymen trying to get around you, cut your horse's stomach out and then get you when you were hurled to the ground.

Phineas watched in horror as that very thing began to happen all around him, but he handled the sudden turn of fortune much better than Godrick. He recovered quickly, thrusting his lance down towards one man impaling him through the shoulder. At the same time another man's spear thrust up at Phineas. Phineas blocked with his shield desperately, letting go of the lance to pull out his sword. But by the time he did, another man was gutting his horse. The animal whinnied, bucking up to try and get away from the knife that was now sticking out of its stomach, and Phineas was hurled from the saddle.

He landed heavily but the mud actually helped him for a moment, allowing him to absorb the shock of the landing. He tried to get to his feet, a hard task given the full plate armor he was wearing, only to receive a blow from a mace, smashing him comatose. The man who did it grinned, pulling the man in very expensive looking armor up out of the mud with some of his fellows before retreating with their captive. All around other knights and armsmen were dying, unless they too looked like they came from families that could pay a ransom.

Elsewhere Phineas' son's charges also bogged down, though they faced more archers than men on foot. And those archers were not aiming at the men on horses, they were aiming at the horses themselves. Stannis knew that killing all of the men currently bogged down in front of his army would take too long but unhorsing them might be just as good for now.

Watching this from a small rise behind his army Stannis nodded turning away to look at Lord Bolling. "You'll have two thousand of the levee forces and another five hundred archers. Keep up the attack on that cavalry force, I want as many captives as possible, but gut that force too." Those levee forces were impressed smallfolk from Duskendale and the lands the army had travelled through, poor troops for the most part but good enough for this purpose, and they had given him a few more thousand men to bolster his numbers.

Bolling nodded, but by that time Stannis was already gone, moving to his horse. He paused as he was about to lift himself into the saddle staring hard at Melisandre, who was in chains at present. "Your creations have already done their bit?"

Melisandre nodded. "We lost a few strangely and several others have died since daybreak began, but the nearest forts are emptied of men my Lord."

"Good." Stannis nodded. With that he pulled himself into the saddle and waved his hand in the air ordering the men all around him to advance. But they didn't advance into the quagmire that was initially their front lines. Stannis didn't want to simply wipe out a portion of Renly's army, he wanted to crush the entire thing before Renly, or more accurately Randyll, could realize all that was going on.

While news of that first cavalry charges disaster was slowly filtering back to Renly, Stannis was on the move, flanking in his position from the North. Before Renly and his men could realize it Stannis and his army were already in a new position slightly north of their previous position and attacking once again, moving directly under the range of the former Pommingham's fort.

Despite this, the army under Renly was able to see them coming and quickly turned to face them. Randyll had also ordered several units of Lord Staedmon's force to join the main army, reinforcing their numbers. The two armies clashed, cavalry and infantry smashing into one another while the archers on both sides went to work.

OOOOOOO

Well back from the front lines Renly stared as the two armies clashed, shaking his head in shock. "Well that was a surprise." He said without much feeling, "but we still have the numbers advantage. Tell Lord Tyrell to swing north of them. No matter how they took out Pommingham's fort, they haven't moved men into it. If we can circle Stannis's army we can destroy it entirely. Send a signal to Lord Staedmon, I'll want his men able to push forward at a moment's notice, and send a message across the Blackwater to Lord Dunn as well, I'll want the reserves ready to go just in case."

Next to him Randyll frowned thoughtfully, not liking how deeply Stannis and his men were forging into their army, as well as moving towards the east towards the forts that they should've avoided. "I'd recommend that we continue to fall back towards the Blackwater my Lord. The Stormlands infantry is better than most of ours, let us bring up the rest of our own before we start to hold the ground against him." Half of the Stormlands infantry was serving under Staedmon, with only around four thousand men under lord Hasty assigned to Renly's force.

Renly nodded affably. "Do so." Then he pulled his sword and nodded at his Rainbow Guard and Randyll. "I believe however, it is now time for us to do our part." he pointed theatrically forward at where the infantry were clashing. "Charge!"

OOOOOOO

A messenger was sent to Lord Mace and his portion of the Army was situated slightly behind and to the north of Renly's portion behind the forts. This second mobile force consisted predominantly of heavy and light cavalry with a smattering of infantry and archers. House Tyrell, the Red-apple Fossoways, House Ashford and House Rowan supplied the men to this force. They numbered a little over fourteen thousand.

Mace stared at the messenger, then over at his son. Loras had been sent to him ostensibly as a liaison, which Mace understood. The real reason of course was that Renly didn't want Loras around just now, not until he had come up with a way to appease him. "Are you ready?"

Loras nodded, gripping is sword's grimly. For the life of him he had been unable to get his mind off of Renly's betrayal, his mind kept on going back to that moment where he barged into the tent to find him and Emmon in an embrace like a tooth to a sore. Right now he wanted very badly to hit someone, and Renly unfortunately was not available. "Yes, father."

The older man nodded and then waved his hand grandly. "Forward to victory!" His army began to advance, leaving behind their camp and moving quickly to attack Stannis in the flank. However those units that past close by the forts began to come under fire from them. From his position at the center of his army Mace saw this and stared incredulously. "What? Betrayal!"

The Shadow Warriors who had attacked the force commanded by House Wylde had moved on to reinforce those that were attacking the fort directly behind Renly's army, allowing some of Stannis' forces to move in and claim it. They now held it against the people who had built it, trying desperately to ignore the bodies all around them, many of which had been hacked to pieces as they died.

Mace halted the charge at this sudden assault, staring at the fort in consternation as he wondered if he should continue to attack along this line of advance. Then suddenly from the west another force, this one smaller than Stannis's main army began to attack his flank. Light cavalry in the colors of Massey and Bar Emmon began to hit Lord Ashford and his men, who had control of that flank. He hastily ordered their men forward to chase after the light cavalry instead of continuing the attack on Stannis's forces, breaking away from Tyrell's main force.

"Damn it!" Mace growled, then shuddered as he saw the catapult from the fort fire off, the large stone slamming into the front of his force.

"We should swing out wide in both directions!" Shouted Lord Fossoway. "Half should swing round to reinforce Renly from behind, the other should chase down that force that just attacked us, then split off to attack Stannis from behind!"

"Do it!" Mace ordered, glad that someone had come up with a plan. He turned to Loras. "Loras, you'll command the force moving to aide Ashford, I'll command the other with Lord Fossoway and move to reinforce Renly!"

Loras nodded and turned his horse away while Mace began to bellow orders to his horn-man.

OOOOOOO

In King's Landing Rupert had watched the beginning of the fight as well as he could with the spyglass, which wasn't very well given the distances involved, but thanks to the Hand's Tower he had still been able to see enough to know when the battle was truly joined. But even before that, Rupert had gone ahead with his plan for the escape from the capital. Several dozen of his most trusted men under the command of Jaime had begun to lead the horses horded here in the Red Keep through the catacombs several dozen at a time. They were led in turn by Varys with Jaime by his side at all times, ostensibly to defend him just in case, but everyone knew the real reason. This had gone on throughout the night, and now every horse in the Red Keep had been brought out. Then Varys and Jaime had returned, leaving Balon Swann in charge of the men with the horses.

Then, when he was certain Stannis and Renly were fully concentrated on one another, Rupert first ordered every Lannister and Baratheon flag in the Keep up onto the walls of the Keep. With that done, Rupert gathered the two royals and the small council. "if we are going to do this, the time is now your Grace, your Highness."

Cersei, Joffrey and Pycelle all nodded, though the old Grand Maester looked hesitant for some reason. As the others left, Rupert laid a hand on the old man's shoulder. The two of them had become friends over the past few weeks, and Rupert had come to value Pycelle's knowledge and insight. "Pycelle?"

"You know, I'd known for decades I would die here. The plague or through wounds taken in battle or assassination would not have been my choices, but even old age would have claimed me eventually, and I would still be here. For all its smell, for all the machinations of the small council and the horrors I've seen here under the Mad King and after, this has been my home for longer than the queen has been alive. Part of me wants to simply stay here, and meet the end however it comes."

"None of that my friend, the Lannisters still need your service, and I still need your advice." Rupert said, looking at the older man worriedly. Dealing with the plague had affected him greatly, but this was the first time Serret had heard the man sound so fatalistic.

Pycelle took one last look around the queen's council room, then nodded resolutely and turned toward the door. He didn't look back again, even while they were led into the catacombs. With Varys once more leading them the royal household and the force Serret had gathered in the Red Keep prior to the outbreak moved down into the catacombs.

After what seemed like hours the eunuch finally led them out of the catacombs the same way that Petyr had escaped weeks ago. Rupert stepped outside, blinking in even the overcast light of the day after the last few hours. He took a moment to stare out over the landscape towards distant forts and lines facing this direction. Jaime stopped beside him doing the same thing. "I would've liked to do this at night," the Kingslayer said shaking his head. "There's got to be enough men over there to make a fight of it, right, even with your diversion?

"If we were trying to create a hole rather than simply punch our own way through possibly."the older man replied caustically. But Alester Florent is not exactly the best commander, nor the most intelligent or even courageous man. So long as he's not been reinforced, we'll be able to break through."

The force of around 3,700 men began to make their way down the cliff face and soon enough they were down in among the slums, where the horses had been hidden. While the men mounted quickly, Rupert looked at Ser Swann, nodding his head gravely. "You are in charge of the Kingsguard for the moment, Jaime, you're with me."

Ser Blount looked angry at his seniority being passed over like that, but subsided as Jaime looked his way. With Blount suitably chastised, Jaime joined Rupert as they moved through the slums set on the small stretch of land between the Blackwater and the city's outer wall. They halted where the wall turned, staring out into the distance past the few remaining hovels left standing. Then they began to hear shouts and yells in the distance, and both men smiled grimly.

When he came up with his desperate gamble the Lord Hand had decided to add as much chaos to their escape as he could. He couldn't assume that the lords of the nearest forts were as cowardly or slow as he felt Alester was, so they had to be occupied in such a way to stop them from coming to the Florent's aid. And if the men on the wall had seen the royal force leaving, they might have panicked and tried to abandon the city as best they could. So Rupert had decided to use their desire to leave the city in a controlled way. He had relayed an order to Lord Harte and the other surviving lords who had gathered in King's Landing to prepare their men to go over the wall and attempt to escape in force.

Of course this also meant that the smallfolk might notice the sudden absence of the wall's defenders and try to escape the outbreak themselves. But even that could be borne since they probably wouldn't try to come the same way that Rupert's force was taking, moving through the slums where the wildfire had burned out most of the houses.

Now several thousand men began to rappel down the outer wall of the capital. They formed up into a force around four thousand strong in slums there before marching out along the Kingsroad as fast as they could.

OOOOOOO

Loras' force had run off the skirmishers who had pulled Ashford's men off their initial line of attack, only to run into some survivors of the Shadow Warrior's assault on the forts behind Renly's army. They were immediately ushered into Loras' presence, and he and his commanders stared first at the scared, broken men then at the fort. "Are you saying that creature much like the monster I fought last night are in those forts?"

"Y-yes my lord, they, they slaughtered us! L-lord Wensington had a Valyrian knife, it worked on them but nothing else we did hurt them at all! It, it was horrible!"

Thinking quickly Loras said aloud "But none of them have been seen in daylight yet, so we need to assume that they can't exist in the light. So they won't be able to come out to attack us if we pass them. We should be able to get past them to reinforce Renly." He had to bite his tongue slightly to keep from cursing the man as he deserved.

"What's going on over there?" Ser Luthor Norridge, a knight from a very minor house loyal to House Tyrell said from next to Loras, pointing toward the city.

Loras looked in that direction, then frowned suddenly. "That looks like someone is trying to escape the city!" He scowled angrily. "Who's in command on that side of the city?"

"House Cafferen and House Meadows control the forts and the line from the Kingsroad to the west. To the east of the Kingsroad and towards the road to Rosby… the Florents and a few of the smaller houses I think." Said Talbert Yelshire, the lord of another minor house beholden to the Tyrells.

Every man around Loras groaned aloud at that. Alekyne had not done anything to impress any of the other young knights with his courage or intelligence, setting aside the fact his family's loyalty to Renly was seen as somewhat compromised. If the capital's garrison is trying to break out along the Kingsroad, they might be trying to break out elsewhere as well, and Alester and his cluster of imbeciles are definitely the weak point in our cordon.

"We need to get over there then." Loras said, turning his horse almost entirely around. "We can't let any of the Lannister get away, especially if they might be carrying the plague!"

"What about His Majesty my lord, we might be needed here?" Lord Ashford asked hesitantly.

"If Renly can't beat his brother with a more than two to one advantage in numbers, then our five thousand certainly isn't going to make any difference!" Loras retorted hotly, allowing his anger at Renly out for a moment. "Whereas we might be the difference between life and death for thousands if those men trying to break out are sick! Turn the army around and let's get over there!"

OOOOOOO

The clash between the two main forces had bogged down, becoming a case of shield wall against shield wall. The Stormlanders much better trained infantry fared well against the very poorly trained and outfitted troops of the Reach. The cavalry was no longer able to come to grips with them with enough momentum to turn the tide. In several places the Reach cavalry now couldn't even get to the front lines through the ranks of their own infantry. Hundreds tried to flank out west, only to get stringed along by Stannis' reserves until they became bogged down in the same quagmire that had caught the nighttime charge.

While Renly and forged his way forward, hacking at Stormlands men below him it became clear that the training that Stannis had given his men in the intervening weeks was paying off now. While the men from the Royal Navy didn't work very well as units, they wielded their spears expertly, keeping what cavalry could get to the front lines from crunching into the better armored and armed Stormlands infantry, which were making short work of the Reach levy forces. Panic was setting in, and even Renly was beginning to feel it now, seeing the strange men with the mark of a fire on their shoulders at the front of a charge.

The charge crunched into a point near the front of the battle where the Royal Navy forces had fallen back. They smashed into the rush of men trying to fold up Stannis' line to either side, killing or riding down most of them, then cutting deep into Renly's own line which had bulged out there to try and take advantage of their fellow's sudden weakness.

Renly grimaced, pulling his sword out of one man and looking around "Where are Mace and Staedmon?!"

"Bogged down your Highness!" Shouted Ser Morrigen his normally green enameled armor splashed with red. "Somehow your brother was able to get forces inside some of the forts last night, and Lord Tyrell decided to split the army. Loras is still coming up behind Stannis, but Lord Tyrell fell back and around to join Lord Staedmon." Word of the second force under Lord Bar Emmon had not reached the main army. "Lord Tarly sent word though that Staedmon is on the move! They are trying to circle south so they can join the battle sooner!"

"Damn it!" Renly muttered, bringing up his blade to hack the shaft of a spear that was thrusting for his face. The shaft shattered and Renly kicked out, catching another man who was trying to get underneath his horse to hamstring it before bringing his sword over, braining the fellow with his pommel. "Then we need to hold until Alesander and Mace gets here!"

OOOOOOO

Elsewhere Lord Dunn was looking through a very expensive Myrish glass he had recently won in a game of cards from one of his fellow lords. Then he turned and looked at Lord Norcross and the other nobles that made up the reserve forces of the Reach stationed to the south over the Blackwater. "Are we agreed my lords?"

Lord Norcross nodded grimly. "If Renly won't let us go reclaim our lands Stannis will, his messages said so." He had lands to the south of House Oldflowers, perched directly on the Mander. So did their fellows, Lords Rhysling, Uffering, Orme and Graves. None of them had their full compliment with them on this side of the Blackwater, but they were all agreed to follow Dunn in this bit of revolution. Lord Lybber, a house that was on the cusp of knightly and noble class, who was situated almost on the Mander nodded as well. "In that case, I think we need to send a sign don't we?" At his fellows nods he smiled grimly and moved to where several catapults were set up on the southern shore of the Blackwater, the largest ones the army had made. Originally they had faced toward the capital, but now they were slowly turned around.

OOOOOOO

Mace's portion of the army had met up with Lord Staedmon's by that point, and the two of them had, as Robar reported, decided to swing slightly south of the main battle. This way they would be able to move around the main snarl of combat where Stannis' forces had smashed into the center of Renly's. This way they'd be able to actually come to grips with the attackers much faster.

They were moving quickly, the heavy cavalry and the light racing ahead of the Stormlands infantry. This force had none of the barely trained levy forces from the Reach, containing the remaining Stormlands infantry allied to Renly. The two groups, cavalry and infantry, were slowly separating when they came under attack from an unexpected direction.

The first Mace knew of it was when a large boulder fell out of the sky smashing into his formation, puling several men and then rolling, crushing several more. "'Ware above, from behind!" Came the belated call, and practically every man in the army turned to stare in that direction for a moment.

It took another boulder appearing out of the sky dropping toward them to make the men scatter, pushing and shoving at one another to get out of the way. Even so, the 13,000 or so strong force had not spread out over much when the next boulder landed, crushing a few cavalry men this time, and severely injuring a few others even while they desperately tried to get out of the way.

Then it became worse. The first two boulders were the sort used to try and batter down the city's walls. The next several catapult loads were loaded with several dozen smaller rocks of various sizes roped together, the ropes coming apart under the strain of the flight, creating the medieval equivalent of buckshot. Useless against fortifications, this type of catapult ammunition was far more deadly against formed troops.

Hundreds of men died in those next few moments as Mace and Lord Staedmon tried to figure out where the catapult fire was coming from while also trying to get their men to spread out yet remain under control. This was a daunting task under the sudden assault from enemies well out of their own range.

This was made all the harder when someone shouted aloud, "My lords, the fire's coming from our own forts on the other side of the Blackwater!"

Staedmon had found Mace amidst the tumult and the two of them scowled angrily as they realized what that meant. Either Stannis had somehow sent men across the river and overcome the reserve force or they had just been betrayed. "Who's in charge over there?" Mace growled angrily, looking at one of his aides.

"Lord Norcross and Lord Dunn. I think they were much angrier about Renly not cutting them loose to march home then we believed." Staedmon replied, scowling angrily. He couldn't blame them for that anger, but to turn on the rest of the army like this?

"Despicable traitors!" Mace growled, waving his sword in the air. "Let's turn the army around, and get after them!"

Staedmon didn't look at him, staring down towards the Blackwater frowning heavily. He wasn't the most experienced commander, but he had a good education in tactics, and knew that if the traitor Houses held the bridges, they would be able to beat off any assault. "They can easily hold the bridges we made against us, or simply burn them. No, the main battle is out of their catapult's range, let's pick up the pace and we can leave this behind." He grimaced as more stones fell out of the sky, killing and scattering the army's formation further.

"No!" Mace growled, angered beyond belief at the treachery from houses that owed him their loyalty. "You do what you want with your force, I'm going to go back there, and make damn certain that those traitors get what's coming to them!"

Staedmon glared after him as he and his accompanying knights began to blow their bugles, gathering their men to them. "What should we do my lord?" Asked one of his own men, a knight from House Tudbury.

"Get the banners and the buglers north of here out of the range of the spread shots from the catapults over there. Don't use the bugles to rally the men, with that buffoon and his fellow idiots blaring so much we'll just confuse the issue. Hopefully the men will see us moving and rally to us anyway. Once that fool has gathered his men and moved off… we'll see how the main battle is doing before deciding what to do."

"My lord?" The knight asked, his voice showing his surprise.

Staedmon shrugged, not wishing to voice the thought that maybe this battle had already been lost. Renly still had more men than Stannis but it seemed that in every other way Stannis was proving the superior. And Staedmon's House hadn't suffered many losses yet, so maybe it was time to look to his own first.

While Alesander Staedmon was thinking long term, Mace was thinking here and now. Even Mace however wasn't so much of an idiot to charge the bridges controlled by Norcross and the other traitors. Instead he retreated to the west and south, moving toward the city and the bridge the army had built near the port in the Blackwater. The forts around there were controlled by his family and House Ambrose, a firm ally of House Tyrell, he'd be able to cross the bridges there and take the traitors from the side. That this removed him from the main battle against Stannis really didn't register in Mace's mind, he was so angry at the traitors.

OOOOOOO

At the front of the battle Renly had made the same mistake numerous young commanders have made throughout history: he had become too involved in the front lines to control the flow of battle. Randyll however had not gotten involved personally yet. Standing back from the main conflict he was able to slowly reorganize the main army's forces and pull them back to the south and east, skirting around the forts that had been emptied of men last night through whatever sorcerous means the Red Witch had called up. He ordered every archer in the army up to guard his flank in defense against whatever was inside them, whilepulling together the main army.

But the army well knew they should have received reinforcements by now. The fact they had not, and the drubbing they had taken so far, was impacting the troop's morale. The morale of the Reach's levy forces was never very high at the best of times, now they had been mauled, thrown into a battle they couldn't win. Here and there they broke despite the best Randyll could do to put some steel in their spine. Those men now began to fight to get away from the battle, further hampering the remainder's ability to keep their lines intact.

Despite that, Randyll still had command of the center of the Stormlands-Reach Army, and they were pulling south and east under control. Now the Stormlands infantry on both sides matched up in the center of the battle, bolstered by the infantry of the few Reach houses who had spent any money on their infantry and were present, a small number indeed. House Buckler met House Fell, House Grandison met House Errol along with others and House Baratheon fought on both sides in the center of the ferocious melee. But the men under Stannis held their lines better, and then reinforcements arrived on Stannis' right flank.

These were men of House Massey and Bar Emmon. They had been involved in the skirmish against Loras and Lord Ashford but had not, as Loras thought, been broken by their riposte, retreating in good order. Now they joined the main battle, joining the Royal Navy men that had been holding that flank. Slowly they began to turn the Reach cavalry and levy forces holding there, and then their light cavalry and the small number of heavy cavalry Stannis had under his command began to hammer the enemy's line, threatening to break it, and with it the army's morale.

Noticing this Randyll cursed then gestured around to the men of his own house. "Time for us to hit them lads!" As his men roared and they began to charge forward, Randyll was still thinking hard. Turn that around, and their panic may spread. The battle could still be won, but the lack of reinforcements was beginning to loom large, and he wondered where the hell Mace and Alesander had gotten to. Fucking idiot must not have gotten someone to read his fucking map for him!

OOOOOOO

Rupert and Jaime had continued to wait, hoping that a general outbreak would quickly follow. Yet the smallfolk had learned their lesson from the times they had taken control of the walls here and there in the days before this. They knew even if they got out of the city, the surrounding army would not let them go, and there was little to no cover and nothing to eat between the outer wall and the surrounding army. There were still a few who tried to put to sea by the Blackwater, and more who tried to get over the wall into Fishmonger's street and from there over the river, but they fared no better than they had the other times they had tried this.

That didn't mean however that the various Crownlands forces trying to break out weren't doing their job however. Jaime and Rupert took turns looking through the Hand's Myrish glass at the forts set up on and toe the west of the Kingsroad. Finally both men smiled as the forces there sortied out against Lord Harte and the others. "Now, let's return to the others and get on!"

It would take them a bare few minutes by horse to reach the Florent lines. Returning to the others Serret barked out orders, no longer giving even lip service to Joffrey being the king, simply ordering him around like he did the others. Joffrey took this poorly, but a stern glance from the queen and Pycelle's hand clamping down on his shoulder kept him from interrupting Rupert's flow as he finished giving out orders. "Jaime, you'll be in charge of the first ranks, break through and then circle back until the King and Queen Regent are clear, after that, make certain they get away whatever else is going on!"

Jaime nodded, glancing at his sister who nodded as well, her eyes showing both her concern for them all and her trust in him. Joffrey made to move forward, but at a gesture from his mother Ser Swann moved his horse to block the King's path. "You should not be fighting what amounts to a skirmish my son." Cersei said simply shaking her head. "Kings lead grand charges into massive battles, they don't fight in every skirmish where arrows and position mean more than skill and numbers."

"I suppose that makes sense." Joffrey conceded with a scowl. Though inside he was eager to hurt someone again, it had been too long since he had sated any of his… desires.

Jaime stretched in his armor, grinning evilly. It had been far too long since he'd had a proper fight, the last time was against Eddard in the battle of Two Truths and he was eager to get it stuck in. "Let's go." he said simply, and led the way trotting out of the slums and out into the open area between the slums and the besieging army's line.

Almost immediately another shout went up, but only a few desultory arrows were shot in their direction before Jaime and the men with him were within charging range. "Hear me roar!" Shouted Jaime at the top of his lungs, pointing forward with his blade before spurring his horse into the charge.

A moment later his sword flashed out, catching one man high in the shoulder as he passed by before coming back in a underhand swing to catch another man's axe, pushing it away before coming back and slicing him open along the neck. The man hadn't even put on his helmet yet.

Jaime's men hammered into the defender's lines, coming up and over the ditches and slamming into the men manning them with all the force of a cavalry charge at its best. It was ironic that the Reach for all its vaunted desire and love of cavalry had not been able to use their cavalry to good effect in this entire war yet, whereas the Westerlanders in this one charge had been able to.

A small unit of heavy cavalry tried to join the battle coming out of the Florent fort, but couldn't get up enough momentum to make much difference, instead becoming snarled up in the melee. Wheeling his horse around Jaime hacked to the left and right, clearing the area around him quickly then making for the one banner man he could see.

The man saw him coming, and urged his force forward with more courage than sense. The two exchanged four blows before Jaime reposted too fast for the other man to block, smashing his blade tip into and through his opponent's plate armor. The man fell, and the heavy cavalry all around them began to pull back toward the fort.

"Keep going!" Yelled Rupert, pulling his own horse around and coming back hacking at a man wearing Florent colors with his axe. "Bring the torches forward, then someone run off or take their horses!"

A moment later several unmounted men came forward with torches, hurling them up onto the Ford before pulling themselves into horses held by their fellows. There were too many men up there and the wood was too wet for the fire to catch hold, but it took even more attention away while Ser Swann led Cersei and her party forward at a gallop, racing through the hole Jaime and Rupert had made in the defender's line.

The next few moments were harrowing, and more than a dozen men went down with arrows in their horses or their own back, but at last the Westerlanders galloped out of arrow range, racing on down the road to Rosby, meeting up with lord Edgerton and his few surviving men, all of whom had simply run through the battle occurring along the Kingsroad, allowing Harte and the rest of their men to die to cover their escape, though they didn't know it. Soon enough they would cut off overland and head towards the Sow's Horn, but Lord Serret wanted to put more distance between them and any pursuers.

OOOOOOO

At the same time the Lannisters and their allies were breaking out of the cordon, Mace had gotten across the Blackwater and had moved up its southern edge to attack the traitors on that side. He had gathered another several thousand men, and had massively overwhelmingly numbers as he attacked as well as surprise. Lord Dunn and his fellows hadn't sent out any scouts on their own flanks, assuming that any attack would come right over the bridges in front of their forts. A few of their watchers had noticed Mace's force pulling back, but they hadn't followed them, intent on hammering Staedmon's men before they could get out of catapult range.

Even so, the battle almost teetered on the brink for a moment. Mace thought himself a fine warrior and general, when in reality he was rather poor at both. He led the fist charge against the traitor's lines, smashing into their barely formed defenses and through, only to become bogged down almost immediately as more men came up, circling his horse. It was only the timely intervention of some of his household's men that kept Mace from death then.

Even so, Lord Dunn and his fellows were able to retreat into the fort and the better defenses set up around it, holding out with their archers and bogging down Mace and his portion of the army. Until Lord Staedmon led his men across the now undefended bridges, falling on the beleaguered defenders from behind and more importantly bringing enough infantry to storm their lines and the fort. Men began to surrender then, throwing down their weapons and getting on their knees where they stood, but the men in the actual fort kept fighting.

As this was going on, Staedmon found Mace in the back of his formation. Mace's shoulder plate was badly dented, and his helmet was missing. Blood caked one side of his face, and he appeared a little dazed, but his guards, all men chosen by Willas and Loras back in Highgarden, had command of the battle and were doing well.

Staedmon had decided to aid Mace in crushing the rebels instead of reinforcing Renly's frontline. Randyll had sent a runner to him, ordering him to fall back over the bridges. Randyll felt that the first day of the battle was lost, momentum was totally on Stannis' side. But if the Reach/Stormlands army could fall back in good enough order, they could come back after rebuilding their morale and pin Stannis against the still manned forts. Staedmon had agreed with the idea, it made sense and allowed him to not commit his forces just yet.

"Lord Tyrell!" Alesander shouted to be heard over the ongoing tumult of battle. "We need to guard the bridge! Get your archers over there, I'll leave some of my infantry and… my lord, are you listening!?" Mace had been staring at him, his eyes uncomprehending.

"Mace took a blow to the head Lord Staedmon, he hasn't been able to concentrate for a few minutes." Lord Fossoway said from where he had pushed up his faceplate huffing heavily at the exertion of the battle thus far.

"Damn it, fine, then you tell someone to get the archers over there, if Renly and his force are forced to retreat, Stannis will be right behind him!" Staedmon barked, turning away. "Leave someone to watch the idiot, I'll send House Caron's forces to aid you finishing off the men around the fort, but after that move your men over to the bridge!"

OOOOOOO

Loras was wiping his sword off on the tabard of a Lannister supporter from one of the Crownlands houses, he didn't recognize it offhand. His heavily enameled armor had been badly dented, and one of his shoulders felt a little stiff as he moved it under his armor. But like Loras himself, once you removed the enamel covering it, you found the steel waiting underneath. He had personally killed at least ten men today, and more than one had been a passably decent swordsman, but none had been up to his level.

Cleaning his blade was just something for his hands to do while he stared incredulously at the knight he had sent to speak to Alekyne. "Are you telling me that buffoon saw Cersei and her bastard, along with the Kingslayer escape past his lines and didn't pursue them?!"

"Alekyne Florent lost several dozen mounted men my lord, and the remaining horses were run off during the battle or stolen. He couldn't pursue them."

"Damn convenient for the coward." Lord Ashford scoffed. "He could have chased after them on foot, but I doubt the yellowbelly wants any part of the Kingslayer."

"I on the other hand do." Loras replied, staring northward. "Let's get after them. If we don't catch them up before the sun starts to set, we'll rest then, and send word back to the rest of the army. But I want us on the Lannisters heels right now!"

"My lord, what about the battle against Stannis? We have over five thousand men here my lord, surely we should just send a small force to trail the Lannisters and then turn to aid His Majesty against his brother?" Ashford asked hesitantly.

He had noticed throughout the day that something seemed to have happened between Renly and Loras. Many of the Reach lords had noticed that their friendship had waned. They had come up with myriad reasons for the sudden change, ranging from the idea that Renly felt guilty about his friends disfigurement to some reasons based on some of them believing the Lannister propaganda about Renly's preferences. Whatever it was, it seemed to have come to a head last night, and it was effecting Loras' thinking.

Loras frowned, looking back over his shoulder toward where the main battle was occurring, just beyond his line of vision. then back to the north. If they attacked from here they would be able to strike at Stannis' rear, but Cersei and her family would get away cleanly. For a moment, just a moment the future of all Westeros tilted in the balance.

Then the moment passed and Loras shook his head. "No, we have a chance to finish off the Lannisters right now. My father and the others will be able to handle Stannis, but we can't finish him off to simply let Cersei and her bastard get meet up with Tywin in the Riverlands. If they do that, they can fall back into the Westerlands, and this war might continue for years even if we're able to ally with the Starks. Strategically, the Lannisters are a much larger threat than Stannis."

Personally Loras felt that just wasn't going to happen until Renly admitted his cowardice in fleeing from King's Landing. That just wasn't going to happen, it would be political suicide, but that wouldn't matter to the Starks, whose patriarch had nearly died in a battle that they might well have won if Renly had stayed to aid them.

"Besides," Loras went on. "Given what I saw last night, the 'marriage' between Renly and Margaery might never have been consummated." That was hinting at something a little too close to home, but frankly Loras no longer cared about keeping Renly's secrets.

Lord Ashford frowned, wondering what by the Seven that could mean, but still nodded to Loras' other points. Tywin had strode Westeros like a giant for so long, the fear of him was something to conjure with, even now when he had evidently suffered a major military defeat. Letting him and the royals join up was no doubt a very bad idea. "I suppose that makes sense my lord."

Loras nodded, then turned to his bugler and began to pass on orders to his men, forming them up for a march. Not twenty minutes later, they were gone, leaving the forts they had aided behind them as they moved north along the Kingsroad.

OOOOOOO

The main battle had seesawed wildly, with both sides able to break their opponents shield walls here and there to claim momentary advantage, but neither able to really deliver a crippling blow, but Stannis' troops had gradually pushed Renly's men back and further back, blunted only by the fact they didn't have enough cavalry to envelop Renly, but the archers on both sides had dueled for hours, with hundreds on both sides dying. The army was close to breaking, but the news that the traitors on the southern side of the Blackwater had been crushed and that the Tyrell/Staedmon force was waiting for them there kept most of the men from losing that last bit of morale that kept them going. But it was becoming close, every unit commander could feel it.

The final straw came suddenly as it always did. Randyll was once again at the front of the battle, rallying the western edge of the army's line, where Stannis had committed his last few units of cavalry along with two-thirds of his reserve to try and shatter that flank permanently. Randyll and his men had just beaten off the assault when an arrow came out of nowhere and caught him directly in the eye-slit of his helmet. It caught Randyll in the eye and continued on, piercing his brain and killing him instantly.

Heartsbane fell out of his lifeless hands to the ground below as Randyll Tarly slowly collapsed sideways out of his saddle. The Valyrian blade was quickly picked up by one of his bannermen, who quickly shouted orders to his fellows while another man began to wave the Tarly banner in the air. "Our Lord is slain. Our duty is to our house, not Renly, let's get out of here!"

The Tarly armsmen were very well trained and had previously been well led. Moreover they were a unified force. Under the command of Terrence Hunt they backed away from what forces Stannis still had on the eastern flank, making towards the city before cutting back south, making for the same bridge Mace had previously used to flank the traitors.

With Randyll dead, the full weight of command fell on Renly's unprepared shoulders. But not only did Renly not realize he had to, still embroiled with the battle at the front lines, he'd already proven that he wasn't it up to the task by the night assault debacle. Here and there lords from both the Reach and the Stormlands slowly began to pull their own men back, or simply surrender where they were. Worse, when news of Randyll's fall began to spread panic set in, the remaining levy force broke entirely, throwing down their arms and running away here and there or simply surrendering, getting in the way of their fellows who were still up for the battle.

At that point Renly finally realized what had happened, the shout of 'Lord Tarly is slain, all is lost!' moving through the army. Pulling back slightly from the front lines, Renly looked around him wildly, noticing men everywhere he looked throwing their weapons down or simply turning and fleeing the battle. Waving his sword in the air Renly gathered his remaining Rainbow Guard shouting aloud. "We need to rally the men!"

Robar spoke up from where he stood on his own feet by the side of Renly's horse. He had been unhorsed early on in the battle but had acquitted himself well, his rune marked longsword red to the hilt with blood. "My Lord this battle is lost! We should retreat across the rush like we had been planning! "

"Retreat where?" said Ser Mullendore, shaking his head looking this way and that, his eyes wide behind his full helmet. Real battle had not been anything like the stories or the tournaments he had been used to. He wasn't alone in thinking that, many of the 'summer knights', the men who had not seen battle before this from the Reach or the Stormlands, had broken or were in the process of breaking now, and Mullendore was on that ragged edge.

"Nowhere," said Bryce Caron, grimly flicking down his visor again, exchanging a last shoulder thump with his bastard brother Rolland before readying himself. "Here they come!"

Around them the last line of Stormlands infantry between the Rainbow Guard and Stannis' advancing troops had finally broken, killed where they stood or fleeing for their lives. Through the panicking armsmen came a few men of the Flame Guard, advancing purposefully at the head of several dozen infantrymen, ignoring the fleeing enemies to race towards the Rainbow Guard quickly. At their head Stannis was moving forward purposefully, Lightbringer burning in one hand, sizzling and crackling from the blood of its latest victim. "Surrender, Renly!" Stannis bellowed.

Renly scowled. For once in his life he felt the hot rage that his family was known for, burning away his sense of self-preservation at the worst possible moment. Pulling down his visor he waved his blade in the air once more. "Ours is the fury!" And with that he spurred to meet his brother.

No one would ever know whether or not Stannis would really have killed his brother in person because Renly's charge was interrupted by a few of the Fire Guard who had dismounted during the battle, bringing up spears that they had grabbed from their own infantrymen. One spear caught Renly's horse in the throat, punching through its armor and killing it instantly, throwing Renly out of the saddle. He rose, his sword whistling to cut deep into one man's side and then his sword shield bashing out catching another man in the knee sending him to the ground screaming in agony.

While his remaining Rainbow Guard tried to get to him a mace found Renly's head slamming into it with punishing force. Renly lost his helmet, knocked off his head from that blow but still was able to bring his sword up into the man's guts. Then a spear found his back. Renly Baratheon staggered, arching his back in agony as he screamed. Even spitted like he was however Renly was able to reach around behind him and yank the spear out the while the man on the other side was hacked down by Robar. Nearby Bryce and Rolland stood back to back hacking at any of the Fire Guard who came near them, unable to reach Renly. Ser Mullendore had run, flogging his horse into a lather to escape the Fire Guard.

Renly turned, bringing up his sword to block another blow that would have caught him in the shoulder, his shield flashing out to catch the man in the crotch, shattering his balls. Then Renly's strength failed him as the agony from the wound in his back hit him, and he went to one knee. Someone with a short sword stabbed him through the shoulder and Renly tried to raise his blade to attack the man only to have it knocked out of his hands. An axe then found his side.

Renly Baratheon, would-be King of Westeros fell on that blood-soaked plane. Not to a champion from his brothers forces, not to a Lord or even a knight. He fell to several dozen common born armsmen, not one of whom even realized in the heat of battle who he was, Renly having lost his crown long since.

Stannis stared around at the men who had slain his brother. Two of the men who had been protecting Renly had surrendered immediately seeing his death, shouting "A ransom, A ransom!" which was better than any other shout they could have tried to the armsmen around them. The last of the Rainbow Guard Robar Royce died instead of surrendering, spitted on Lightbringer.

Looking at the body of his younger brother grief filled Stannis, not grief for the death of the man that Renly had become but of the younger boy who he had once known, who had looked up to his older brother during the siege of Storm's End, who had followed him and Robert around and played at being a knight. The reality of war is rather different than what your imagination created, isn't it brother? Still, he thought to himself, his thoughts rather morbid and slow at the moment, at least I won't have to execute him myself. Then more important matters once more interceded, and Stannis raised Lightbringer up, the flames of it catching the eyes of thousands all around as he shouted, "Renly the pretender is dead, lay down your arms or die as traitors!"

OOOOOOO

The battle soon petered out after that, with the Reach and Stormlands men on this side of the Blackwater no longer having reason to fight or the will to do so, really. The Stormlands men in particular were eager to switch sides now. Stannis had proven his strength on the battlefield, and was now the only Baratheon remaining unless they wanted to follow the blonde bastard. Those units of the Reach that were still under control however fell back quickly moving south join Lord Tyrell and Lord Staedmon on the other side of the bridge. Together with the men already there they numbered about sixteen thousand men, but their morale was shot to hell, and Mace and Lord Staedmon were not a united front by any means. Even after Mace regained his senses, he was unwilling to simply submit to Stannis as Lord Staedmon was. This caused a rift in their forces, with Staedmon and his men, along with the men of the Stormlands lords under his command, moving down the Blackwater to camp between the forts controlled by Mace and his ally. Mace did however immediately send a messenger over to open peace talks.

The levy forces of the Reach had been massacred. Unable to get away, unable to surrender, and as poorly armed and led as they were they had never had a chance. Several lords had died, along with much of their forces, and dozens of lords had been captured from both the Reach and the Stormlands. Even so, Stannis knew he had taken casualties too, and many of the forts and siege lines around King's Landing were still manned. Magnanimous in his victory however, he allowed the Reach Lords across the Blackwater to send messages to their fellows while he saw to his brother's burial.

Later, while Lord Buckler and Lord Bolling took over reorganizing the army and preparing their camp, plus of course setting ransoms for the knights and lords captured, Stannis reluctantly met with Mace. The two of them met well out of bow range from both their armies but in full sight of them, accompanied by no one else.

Mace was still stiff from his injuries, but he stared defiantly at Stannis, blustering as always. "The Reach will never surrender to you!"

"Why would I seek war with the Reach now when Renly is dead?" Stannis replied simply. "All I want is for much of the Reach forces to head home, to retake their lands and to destroy the Ironborn invasion. I'll keep some of their forces here, but not many."

"They'll do that anyway." Mace replied rather bitterly. With Renly dead, many of the Reach lords had lost their will to fight for the Iron throne when their homes were in danger. Dunn and his allies were gone, executed after the battle or killed during it, but their desires were shared by many of the remaining Reach lords and all their remaining men, a decent chunk of the Reach's remaining strength. If Mace didn't send at least some of them back to aid Garlan in his campaign, he might face mass desertions or even another uprising like Dunn and Norcross.

"True, but the lords I've captured and in particular the Lords who are still in command of the forces around King's Landing would not. They may still follow you." Stannis smiled grimly. "Unlike my men, I would rather have the loyalty of those lords rather than the money returning them to their families would bring. That doesn't even consider the men under your son that were spotted heading north for some reason. To that end, I think we need to talk."

"Why?" Mace asked suspiciously. "You're not known for your ability to use diplomacy Stannis. And that's not even considering the Shadow monsters you've made use of in this battle or the one you sent after your brother last night."

"Several reasons." Stannis replied not taking umbrage at the other man's tone or words. "One, winter is coming, that Stark motto is true now. All the signs point to it being a long one, and the Reach is well known as the bread basket of all Westeros. I will need the Reach and it's agriculture working as best it can, which means I can't afford to let it fall into chaos with your death or the death of your forces here. Willas may be able to take over for you easily enough, but I understand he is deep in an invasion of the Westerlands right now. And Garlan is a soldier, not an organizer or land manager."

Of course Stannis wasn't certain if he could even deal with either of those though the chances would go down after their father's death obviously. And he knew that with the return of the dragons the other roses might be inclined to go with that ally rather than him. "Second, trying to subjugate the Reach would take time, and men I can ill afford to lose. Those men on the other side of the Blackwater aren't exactly on my side, they were just no longer willing to remain here and be on Renly's side. Moreover some of the Lords manning the fort around the city have refused to give in. I could take them each in turn of course, but doing so would cost my men lives, and their own, plus time. I need those lives."

"And fourth." Stannis said, leaning forward. "It has recently been confirmed that my wife is barren, my daughter will most likely suffer from the same affliction. As such, I need a wife, a queen. I don't suppose you know where I can find one. Do you?"

OOOOOOO

Ranma and his party reached Raventree Hall four days after their meeting with the Brothers without Borders. As soon as they were within sight of the castle horns began to bellow a joyful tune, and there was much shouting and jubilation coming from the walls. "I think word of our success has gone before us!" Greatjon laughed reaching over to slap Ranma and Jon on the shoulder in turn.

"News of victory tends to do that!" Jon laughed, and the party continued on its way, speeding up now as men on horseback rode out to meet them, most of them in Blackwood colors. At their head was Tytos himself. "Lord Stark," he said bowing his head from the saddle, trying not to show any awe at the massive direwolf the Stark youth was riding as easily as a horse. He had gotten used to Nymeria somewhat in the past few days, but even so… "I am Tytos Blackwood, your wife has told me much about your campaign thus far in the Riverlands, as well as the real reasons behind this war. My Hall is yours."

Ranma nodded, reaching across to exchange hand clasps with the man. "Tytos, your loyalty to house Tully does both you and your house credit. I'm sorry we couldn't get down here sooner, and I hope that your lands haven't been too badly despoiled."

"Not overmuch no. Bracken wanted to take our lands over and so they were careful not to do any permanent harm such as poisoning wells or salting the farmlands." Tytos suddenly stopped speaking, taking in the sight of the prisoners with wide eyes. "We'd heard rumors that you had captured the old lion, but I honestly didn't believe it. Killed possibly, but actually captured?"

"In the end, that old lion is more of a politician than a general." Ranma smirked, before turning more grim. "I fully expect that Stannis is going to give us a much harder battle."

"And you're sure that it will come to battle between you two?" Tytos said as he pulled his horse around, swinging into the column to ride between Ranma and Greatjon exchanging nods with the northern Lord who had met during the Greyjoy Rebellion.

"Seeing as he has already sent magical creatures to attack me and mine I would hesitate to say that peace is possible between us." Ranma said now smirking quite a bit more. "Besides, I've heard too much about his new religion to want to have any part of it. That doesn't even mention the fact that my wife is a threat to his position."

By that time they had reached the gate into Raventree Hall, and Ranma rode through the gate to resounding cheers and shouts from all around, shouts of 'King of the North', 'Stark!', and general hurrahs. But Ranma had no attention for any of these, his eyes were locked on his friends and Daenerys, all of whom were standing together in front of the gate into the keep. Quickly Ranma swung off Fenris, letting him bound over to his sister along with Ghost, and moved forward.

Daenerys was just bowing and saying "I take it your mission was a success my husband," but before she could get more than "I take it" out of her mouth, Ranma had picked her up by the waist, twirling her around in midair before leaning up into a kiss that took her breath away. All around the shouts redoubled, joined by whistles and cheers as even the Wolfsworn laughed and shook their heads at Ranma's disdain for propriety. Daenerys however didn't notice anything, simply leaning into the kiss her arms going around Ranma's shoulders.

Eventually however reality reasserted itself and Ranma pulled away letting Daenerys down to the ground reluctantly. He murmured into her silver hair in ancient Valyrian "Avyjorrāelan, Daenerys Targaryen."

"Avyjorrāelan, Ranma Stark." Daenerys replied in the same language nestling into his shoulder and neck for a moment before turning away, moving back to stand beside Myrcella who had watched the exchange with joy in her eyes.

Arya came forward, grinning up at her brother. "Did you catch them? Daenerys told us you were chasing down the old lion."

Ranma laughed, reaching out to ruffle her hair affectionately, knowing she wasn't one for hugging most of the time. "Caught Tywin and more besides." Ranma gestured with his other hand to the prisoners who were now being led inside. "Another one of his brother's nephews, another nephew of some kind and an uncle." He looked back to Daenerys who was scowling angrily at the site of the Lannisters. "Enough to both see that justice is done and retain enough hostages to make certain the Lannisters will no longer wish to fight us."

"Good." Daenerys replied simply, not taking her eyes off where Tywin was being led down to the keep's dungeons, which were set in a small separate building leading down to a basement beside the central keep of Raventree Hall. "Very good indeed…"

He looked at Myrcella who was staring at the prisoners with a cold face. Thinking he knew what she was thinking he moved over to her next, pulling her into a gentle hugged and whispering in her ear. "Don't worry Merry, I can't pass judgment on them for their actions here in the Riverlands, but you won't have to be present for that. I'm sorry, but that's all I can do. Justice needs to be served."

Merry sighed, putting her arms around his waist in a brief but heartfelt hug before letting them fall back to hang by her side, though Ranma hadn't pulled back from the hug just yet. "I know, Daenerys explained matters well enough before this, and really I've never gotten to know most of my family. We spent most of our time in King's Landing, and only occasionally went to the Westerlands. I might know one or two of their names from seeing them at tournaments or the few times we went to Casterly Rock, or when they came to pass messages on to my mother, but that's all."

`"Besides…" She went on much more grimly. "Remember I've been dealing with the injured and wounded of not just the army but the smallfolk when I have the time. I've heard all the tales of the horrors the Westerlands army committed here, and seen more than a few examples of it too."

"I know, Ranma said, turning his attention back to Arya and the young girl who was trying to hide behind her while staring up at him through wide eyes. "And who's this?"

"This is Bess Bracken." Arya said somewhat hesitant way. "I was hoping, to, um to keep her with us as a sort of servant for myself? But not quite?"

"A page sort of thing." Ranma said bending down now to stare into the girls eyes. "And is this something you want too, milady?"

"Yes, your Majesty." the girl said and Ranma laughed.

"Ack, you don't have to call me by my title if I'm not sitting in judgment or giving out orders lass." he said kindly, reaching over to rub her hair just as he did Arya's. "So long as Arya is willing to look out for you, I suppose that's fine. Though obviously given your age you won't be allowed to roam the army's camps when we stop, and you have to stick with Arya for most of the time in any event."

"That's fine." Bess said quickly, staring at Ranma with something approaching hero worship. She was astonished that Ranma didn't seem to care about her last name in all, and indeed Ranma didn't. His policy had been set back with the Twins. The children of traitors would not be physically harmed in his retaliation against their house unless they were part of the treason.

Arya however had turned to stare at the young boy and the other strangers that had arrived with the army. The youth wore a longsword on his back and moved like a trained warrior, with that bit of added lightness to his feet that Arya recognized as one of the first signs of Ranma's training. A small, heretofore unknown part of her mind also noted he was rather cute. She ignored that however, simply wondering who he and the others were, and why Ranma had saw fit to train him.

Ranma stood up, looking around at the Wolfsworn and in particular Dacey. "I think we all have some tales to share, let me see to the men and then I would love to hear how you and the others took Stone Hedge, and everything else. Though I note that there don't seem to be nearly as many men around as there should be, and Lord Mallister isn't here either."

"That would be my doing." Daenerys replied, taking one of his arms in hers. "I didn't want us to overburden House Blackwood land, I thought that would be a ill turn to deal to an ally. So when we arrived I split the army up into smaller commands once more. I sent the most rested of our troops, mostly the ones that had relieved Raventree Hall, down with Lord Mallister to camp outside Harrentown, then the most weary back to Harroway under Timot Hammerhand. Is that really his last name by the way?"

"No, Timot got that name from a kind of joke from his youth." Ranma said talking about an older Stark man who had served his family as long as Ranma had been alive and quite a bit longer besides. "He was known as a boxer in his youth, one of the few northern men willing to go toe to toe with Greatjon. He never won obviously, but it still made a name for him."

Despite that however he knew Timot to be am intelligent and thoughtful man, and a very good organizer. Timot had served as Jon and Patrek as their second in command when they had been handling the army's logistics. Not the sort Ranma would put in charge of a battle by any means, but on a march from one place to another and the refit of the army, certainly.

"I told him that once Lord Karstark arrived back from the Salt Pans he should turn over command to him unless something else came up. We captured a lot of supplies from Stone Hedge, enough to feed the Army for weeks, but I thought we should only keep half of those and turn the other half over to helping with the refugees that have already begun to trickle back to their lands. I left a small contingent it Stone Hedge to hold it under a knight that Sir Wendel recommended, he'll be in charge of feeding the refugees as they move back to their lands around there." Daenerys went on.

By that point Ranma, Daenerys and the people following them had entered the keep and were now being escorted through the keep by a servant to a small sitting room on the fourth floor. Instead of taking up the position of the Lord, a single chair in front of a small low-slung table, Ranma took a small sofa, pulling Daenerys down next to him and throwing an arm around her shoulders smiling contentedly, grinning at Merry who automatically moved to sit on a small footstool to his other side. She giggled a little, then winked at Daenerys who smirked back. Ranma closed his eyes contentedly, while the others filed n, then opened his eyes and looked over at Dacey. "I think we all need to get caught up on what we've all been doing, Dacey you start."

That process took several hours, by which time food had arrived. It was an extremely convivial affair, with everyone laughing as Arya interjected her bit about the eldest Bracken daughter trying to flirt with Roger. The battles fought to retain control of Stone Hedge were much more interesting though especially Lord Bracken's capture which was a surprise to Ranma and those who had chased Tywin down.

Another surprise was his great uncle Brynden's tale. "So both Lord Broom and Lord Vypren are dead? That's a shock. I had thought that Tywin would try to keep his remaining Lords alive." Ranma and his men had made a note of the lords his in-battle assassination idea had killed in the battle by the Ruby Ford of course.

"It certainly surprised me to at the time." Brynden said smirking a little. His clothing was the most travel stained and worn of them all, and even now the better part of a week after his part of the campaign had ended he still looked weary. "It was simply a literal example of the fog of war. You see…"

Flashback:

Brynden wiped his face free of rain for a brief moment staring around him. Behind him the six men of the small scout force he had been personally leading were also looking around. After a moment Brynden shrugged his shoulders and whispered "If any of you see any landmarks you recognize tell me, because I am completely lost in this rain."

This wasn't just rain thought. This was a torrential downpour, the rain and fog was so heavy you could barely see five feet in front of you. The same rains that had fallen on Ranma's army lightly a few days after they left the Ruby Ford had simply sat in the area Brynden was chasing the Westerlands through and dumped everything it had on them.

"Look on the bright side milord." Said one of his men with false joviality. "If we Riverlanders are having trouble moving through this, the bloody Westerlanders must be bogged down something fierce."

"True." Brynden replied. "Which is why I want to find some Seven-damned landmarks! If we're where I think we are, we can possibly get ahead of them and prepare another ambush."

A moment later however that thought was driven out of Brynden's head when several men on horseback rode through the small muddy riverbank that Brynden had occupied of their second before. Luckily the sounds of their hooves had alerted him and his men, and they had hidden themselves quickly.

One of the men nearby put an arrow to his string quickly, and even through the rain was able to get off a single shot which took one of the horsemen in the thigh. The other six cavalrymen tried to turn, but the rain was hampering their vision just as much is the Riverlander. Several of Brynden's men were able to fade back into the scrubland, and Brynden threw himself down into a small muddy ditch.

One of the horses actually paused directly over him and he heard voices about. "Lord Vypren, we can't chase after them in this rain, we be chasing our own tails!"

"I know." Said a voice directly above Brynden, the voice dark and angry. "But I want to hurt the Northerners at least a little as recompense for the destruction of my seat and the capture of my family. Thanks to that old toothless lion I haven't been able to even join in the battles yet! If I had…" the voice turned rather boastful. "We might have won that battle at the Ruby Ford."

Another voice muttered as if to itself, though the voice carried through the rain slightly. "And pigs could fly."

Brynden was inclined to agree with this second voice, but he also wasn't about to let a gift like this pass by. Slowly he reached above him and began to saw through the bottom buckle holding the saddle onto the horse directly above him. He was very careful about it, yet even so one of the horses hooves nearly caught him, but he finished and then laid back down in the ditch, lying prone and letting the rain wipe off some of the mud on him while the Westerlanders continued their discussion above him.

"I don't know why Tywin is even trying to push this through this rain, it's obvious that even the Northerners won't be able to follow us closely in this, in fact I bet they've already stopped for the day. Trying to continue in this is foolish in the extreme, it's only chance and luck that will let any of our scouts find the main army again."

"True enough, but Tywin is still afraid of the wolves catching up with him with those pike in the open."

"He's not the only one." Another voice muttered, sounding scared. "I've faced pike before, but nothing like that. Those men acted like one person, there wasn't a way you could get between them, no way to get at them and those pikes kept on pushing and…"

There was a moment of silence above Brynden, and then Vypren shook his head. '"Enough, we're not getting anything done sitting here wool-gathering. Let's move on."

The men all kneed their horses into motion and Vypren did the same a second later. Only when he did, it his saddle began to slip back off his horse almost immediately. "What the..." Before he could shout for help his horse kept on going into the rain, spilling Vypren out of the saddle.

Brynden began to pull himself out of the dish to move towards Vypren where he sprawled on the ground, trying to push himself to his feet hampered by the full plate armor he wore. In comparison Brynden only had light chain mail on. Even so, Vypren had already been pulling out his sword the moment he felt his saddle began to shift, and he was up on one knee lashing out blindly with his blade before Brynden could pull himself out of the muddy ditch.

The mud clung to him as he moved forward, engaging the downed man sword to sword. "Alarm!" Vypren began to shout then paused as he stared hard at the man facing them. "Brynden Tully!" he exclaimed, then pushed hard against Brynden's blade, before coming up with a sweep that he had hoped to catch Brynden in the shoulder with.

But Brynden moved aside at the last moment, letting Vypren's blade whistle past before stabbing forward with his own blade only for Vypren to turn slightly to allow it to skitter across his armor rather than penetrate. Vypren's fist caught Brynden in the chin, throwing him back slightly. "I wanted to hurt the Northerners, I think losing one of their best generals will settle accounts nicely!"

Not speaking, Brynden locked blades with the Vypren, then forced both blade to one side before smashing his shoulder into the other man's chest, taking him off his feet and down to the ground. But one of Vypren's hands left his sword hilt, grabbing Brynden's arm and pulling him down as well. The two of them rolled around in the muck and mire, the blades lost when they hit the ground punching and kicking as they could.

Vypren lost his helmet, but eventually gained the upper hand thanks to his slightly greater strength and weight, pinning Brynden underneath them. But Brynden reached out with one hand grabbing up a rock and slamming it into the Vypren's face. Blood flew and Vypren began to scream, as his eye was caught by that blow, popped like a grape. Both of his hands moving from where they had been holding Brynden down to touch his ravaged face as he tried to push himself to his feet to get away from his opponent.

But Brynden whipped out his belt buckle's knife then thrust upwards, catching Vypren directly underneath his chest plate pushing it deep into the man's guts. He moved to his knees, pushing the dying man's body off him while he reached out with his other hand, putting it over Vypren's mouth so his screams could not be heard through the rain.

However the sound of their battle had been heard, and Brynden could already hear the jingle of harness as the other Westerlanders came back to see what was going on. Throwing the dead body into the same ditch that he had been hiding in before, Brynden moved off silently through the woods, chuckling quietly at yet another traitor getting his just desserts.

End Flashback

"Lord Broom's death was much less…" Brynden paused then shrugged "Muddy." As his listeners laughed, Brynden went on. "There was nothing glorious it, it was planned simply chance. Chance played a part in Lord Broom's death as well. We had found a small ridge line where we could prepare our archers and rake their army as they marched along. We waited for the central portion of the army to pass before he opened fire. Broom was simply one of the casualties.

Silas nodded, looking at Brynden with respect. " Brynden planned a masterful chase my Lords, I doubt Tywin had even an inkling of what was happening or that the entire northern army wasn't behind him. We cost them hundreds, possibly thousands of men. He shook his head. "The only problem is, they also began to have a major desertion problem. We'll have to put together a bandit hunting expedition to winkle them all out."

"Not just there, Ranma and Daenerys said together, " then looked at one another as everyone else laughed. Daenerys shrugged and went on. "I would bet they were also having an issue with deserters before that, and with looters that never returned." He looked over at Ser Blanetree. "Ser Blanetree, would you be willing to lead such an expedition?"

"So long as I can receive local guides my lady, I have no issue with that. I would prefer to start around here and work our way out, in particular towards Acorn Hall and then down to Wayfarer's Rest before making my way back up. That area is the most ravaged by the Westerlanders, and I think, despite what Silas says, will have a larger percentage of looters and other dishonorable folk acting in it."

"That will do for now, how about you tell us how this siege went Lord Blackwood? Ranma asked. "As well as events before that and the battle at the Kneeling man's Ford."

Tytos nodded assent and told them everything he knew about the initial few months of the campaign against the Westerlanders. He told them how he had tried to convince the Vance brothers to continue their skirmishing campaign against the Lannisters rather than a standup fight, how he had retreated and how the siege had not been so onerous thanks to his having time enough to prepare forward. "But," he concluded. "It would have become much worse if your relief force hadn't arrived. The besiegers were just starting to tunnel, and even though my castle sits mostly on granite they could've found a weak point. Tunnel fighting like that is a horrendously bloody affair."

Ranma nodded. "I know I said it before, but it bears repeating." he said as he looked at Tytos and his two oldest sons who had joined him for this conference, bowing his head. "Thank you. Your loyalty to my grandfather will not be forgotten."

"We did as honor dictated." Tytos replied waving his hand airily, though his eyes glimmered appreciatively at Ranma's thanks.

"I understand you have a godswood here?" Ranma asked.

"Yes, but our weirwood tree is dead." Tytos scowled angrily. "It was the poisoning of our tree that set my house against House Bracken."

"Nonetheless even without a weirwood tree being in a godswood would be a touch of home after so long away." Ranma said shaking his head. "And I'll send word to Winterfell to see if we can find a sapling to send to you."

Tytos nodded gratefully, never having considered that idea before. The weirwood tree had been dead for so long that replacing it had never occurred to him or any of his ancestors.

Ranma moved on to other matters. "I agree wholeheartedly with the splitting of the Army, though I've no idea how likely it is the Lannisters in Harrenhal will try to make trouble. Keeping them penned up there is simply good sense. Other than that, I want to give the army at least a week to recuperate. We've been pushing them hard for months now. Every aspect of the army save the bandit hunting group."

He looked over at Ser Blanetree his eyes grim. "Ser Blanetree, as my grandfather's representative I formally give you leave to try and execute bandits as you find them. These men will be desperate, they will be hard and dangerous men, not like those who surrendered to us. They willingly decided to run and try their luck living off the land and their fellow man's work. As such, they deserve no mercy and will get none unless you deem it so. Do you agree to perform this duty?"

Ser Blanetree stood then bowed formally. "I shall perform my duty to the best of my abilities my lord."

Ranma nodded, running one hand through his hair didn't down to his ponytail and pulling on it thoughtfully. "Have we got any messages from Domeric and Alayaya?" The two of them had stayed behind in Harroway, thinking that it was the best place to gather rumors and news from the rest of Westeros.

"No." Daenerys replied, leaning away slightly from him to lean against the other arm of the sofa allowing her to better look him in the eyes. We received word that Lord Karstark had sent word up from Saltpans however." She detailed what happened in that beleaguered town, causing most of the Riverlanders around her to scowl though Lord Ryger seemed more irritated that his guess had been so far off than anything else.

"Domeric also sent a message that he is waiting for some news to reach him from further south, but he didn't tell explain what." Daenerys's was rather irritated by that frankly. She trusted Domeric not to keep things from her, he just tended to want to make certain of his sources and information before sharing them. That was a good thing she supposed, but it did slow down the flow of information to her and Ranma.

"Damn. I'd like to know more information and possibly even get back a reply from the Vale before we start planning our next move. We'll need to start gathering the captured Lords and their men for trials. I'll send out messages to that effect tomorrow. Until the trials begin, no one is to speak to any of the Lannisters. Tywin is well known to have a silver tongue and very deep gold lined pocket. I trust most of our men, but there's no need to let temptation rear its ugly head. Other than that my Lords, I think that we can afford to have a few days break." With that he stood up, looking over at Daenerys who nodded in turn. She too stood up, bowing slightly and exited the room.

Several hours later Daenerys sighed, stretching luxuriantly in the small tub while her body tingled in post-coital bliss. The two had begun their lovemaking after Daenerys had helped Ranma shave, then bathe, though she somewhat regretted the soggy, torn mess that had been her chemise.

Ranma nuzzled into her rest, resting his body lightly over hers. His back was once more crisscross of slashes from her at nails, but they had already begun to heal. "Have I mentioned how much I love this?" she said sighing tiredly.

"Not the only one Dae." Ranma said kissing her porcelain colored breast before moving up lately to nuzzle into her neck. When he spoke next however his voice was serious. "You realize that we were lucky in this campaign right? Tywin underestimated me personally, and he didn't know anything about you or your dragons."

"I know." Daenerys replied nodding her head. " And even if I wasn't aware of it before, Brynden brought that up a few days ago. I'm honestly surprised we haven't heard any news about my brother arriving somewhere in Westeros, either with the Dornish aid or not, and our campaign against the Westerlanders isn't done quite yet, is it?"

"No, it will only be done when we take the Golden Tooth at the very least. We might have to send a small invasion force into the Westerlands, at least until we deal with Joffrey the bastard and his mother, but I hope not to." Ranma grimaced, not looking forward to that. He had respected Cersei, possibly even liked her or at least liked her more than he liked the King. But there was no doubting the fact that she had committed treason defending her son from being outed as a bastard along with the initial act, whoever his father had been. He would deal with her as he needed to regardless of his sister's request in that regard.

"The Wolfsworn and I can deal with the Golden Tooth, one way or the other. Once we have that, the Westerlands won't be able to invade the Riverlands, our back and west will be secure which will be necessary when we march into the Crownlands. I want to fight the next campaign in the Crownlands, the Riverlands have suffered too much already. It will be all they can do to compare for winter."

"I agree wholeheartedly." She had seen far too many burned-out farms and even one village between Stone Hedge and Raventree Hall to doubt that. "And we might be able to at least bring some of the Westerlands under our auspices in the future. Merry and I came up with some ideas there, I think you'll find them interesting." Daenerys said with a fond smile. She changed the subject slightly then. "Do you think the Faith is serious about getting the smallfolk to aid us as they can?"

"I think that Septon Sparrow saw we were truly doing our best not to prey upon the smallfolk, and we haven't gone out of our way to piss off the Seven's Faith. In the short term, that makes us the best candidates he and the rest of the Faith can back. In the long term that might change, but for right now and into winter that's more than enough for me. What help they might be beyond supplies and passing on information though, that I don't know."

"True." Daenerys murmured, slowly becoming uncomfortable as the water in the tub, which had been delivered by several maids earlier, began to cool around their bodies. She pushed Ranma off her gently, taking his hand when he offered to help her up and out of the tub. She flushed in delight at the look of desire on her husband's face as she stepped out of the tub, but her mind remained on more important things. "In the future I think we should place a septon, possibly even the High Septon himself or his representative, on our small council. Or whatever we decide to call our council in the future. Though not for preference the current one High septon, I've heard too many tails about how corrupt he is."

Ranma nodded, then trailed one finger down Daenerys' back while he toweled her off. One hand circled her waist, moving up to gently tickle her nipples for a moment while he looking at her with one eyebrow raised. Even though Daenerys could feel her body responding to his gentle touch she shook her head regretfully, moving out of his warm embrace to a bathrobe one of the servants had left. She was a little too sore for more fun right now. Dacey had taken to training her since they had met up at Stone Hedge, and some of the exercises she had her doing made her thighs and legs burn. Now that she was coming out of her post-coital high the pain had returned redoubled. It was all Daenerys could do to keep from wincing.

Instead of being upset or concerned Ranma simply shrugged, patting her rear gently while he moved to his clothing. As he searched for his breeches he called back over his shoulder "I want to check out the godswood here, then talk to Merry."

Daenerys paused in searching around for heard nightshirt, staring over at Ranma enjoying the sight of him being bent over and his magnificent back towards her. Watching the muscles in it move and flex even as he did something so simple as pulling on a shirt was a very sensual sight. "About what?"

"I want to make certain that she really is okay with what's going to happen to at least Tywin, and maybe some of the other Lannister prisoners. I know she said she wasn't close with any of them, but not close with any of them and understanding that some of her family will be executed in the near future is two different things."

Daenerys nodded, smiling fondly at his concern for the other girl, even while she made another mental note to talk to Alayaya about Merry, her and Ranma. She had not forgotten that moment where she had to stop herself from kissing the younger girl in Stone Hedge, nor had that been the last such moment. "She and I have talked about that, and I think her responses will surprise you."

She reached out, taking Ranma's hand. "She cares Ranma, she cares deeply about people not just the people she meets, but the smallfolk she helps and then never sees again, even those she will never see. It's part and parcel of her personality as a healer. And as Merry said earlier, she's seen what the Lannisters have allowed to occur here in the Westerlands up close and personal."

Ranma looked over at Daenerys. What do you think about that Bess girl? I have to say I'm not happy about the idea of another young girl being with the army, especially one who can't defend herself like Arya and Meera. Alayaya was one thing, and she was always accompanied by one of the wolfsworn or Domeric, but Bess is much too young, and not trained in any way."

"I think Arya enjoys having another tomboy around, her own age, and she loves to encourage that. I also think Cley has quite a bit of a crush on the girl, though whether to encourage or discourage that is something I haven't decided on just yet." Daenerys replied dryly. Ranma and the others who had them had left their pages and squires with the rest of the army before they began to chase Tywin from the Kneeling Man Ford. They had been a major aid a time or two with her dragons, and Cley had taken to be her personal messenger and aide easily enough. "Are you going to execute her father?"

"That depends on how house Bracken's men acted. If they are simply traitors, then the Lord Bracken will be sent to the Silent Brothers, and their remaining men indentured for five years. But the daughters, I'm still confused on what to do with them."

"Lady Bracken was fully in agreement with her husband's actions." Daenerys replied firmly, laying down on the bed for a few moments. "She should either be sent to the Silent Sisters or exiled to Essos. The older daughters Barbara and Barbara are useless piece of fluff, and they should be sent to the Silent Sisters as well, I wouldn't even keep her as a servant someplace, they are too concerned for their own status to trust not to make trouble. The middle sister Catelyn however might have the beginnings of a decent healer, she and Merry have been talking almost every night since they first met, and she apparently helped nurse Hathan back into health."

She shrugged when Ranma raised an eyebrow in silent query. "There might be something there but Hathan is a very difficult man to read." Ranma chuckled at that, and Daenerys went on seriously. "As for Bess, I think she's a lovely girl, who could become, well, whatever she wishes in the future. There is a somewhat bright mind in that head of hers, and she has a magnificent way with animals."

Ranma tried to remember whether or not the Bracken's came from First Men lines, he knew the Blackwoods did, but couldn't remember about the Brackens. The Blackwoods still kept to the Old Gods, but the Bracken had followed the Faith of the Seven for their entire history, so far as Ranma remembered. He shrugged. The Bess issue was really a small one in the great scheme of things, and not one he was going to spend much time on. "All right." He leaned over the bed now fully dressed, kissing his wife ardently on the lips for a moment before pulling back reluctantly. "I'll be back in a few hours."

"I might be recovered enough by that time to have some more fun." Daenerys replied with a laugh shaking her head. "But if I'm asleep please don't wake me."

Ranma laughed again, kissed her lightly on the four head and exited the room. He quickly made his way out of the keep and into the small godswood growing to one side of the main keep. It was really very small, nowhere near as large as Winterfell's but just as wild and the smell of it once Ranma was within the trees was like a breath of home, even disguised as it was under the smell of recent rain.

Walking quietly through the trees he found Fenris and the other wolves padding along nearby, and was astonished to find the two dragons also there, curled up in the small clearing that had remained inviolate around the dead weirwood tree. Ranma could tell that it was dead, the normally white bark of the tree was brown and black in places, the face on it had distended into an ugly caricature of a death mask, and its leaves were long since gone. He had no idea how long this tree had been dead, and knew that the odds of the old gods being able to hear him this far south and moreover not in the presence of a living weirwood tree was small.

Still, Ranma sat down on the ground in front of the tree, bowing his head as he began to send his thoughts out to the old gods who had first brought him here. He thanked them once again for the chance to find a family, to find love and a purpose beyond anything his old life had ever held. He sent them thanks for all of this, and hopes for his family back North and for the future.

The tree was dead, as Ranma had seen there was no doubt about that, but this place had still been… not sanctified, that word had no meeting in the old god religion. But it had held the power of the old gods at one point, and that power was such that even with its local font no longer there some power still lingered. It wasn't a vision, the power simply wasn't strong enough for that, just a scent on the wind, a suggestion of an expanse of fresh water. The smell of it hit Ranma through his senses as if he was linked to Fenris, then the vision of an island, and the sense this was a place he had to go in the near future.

Ranma came out of his trance after a few moments. He stood up, looking out into the distance to the southeast from the castle. He felt a slight nudge as if someone was telling him that yes, that was the direction the place he had to be was in and then he came out of it.

Standing up Ranma nodded. "I understand, though it might be a while before I can find wherever you wanted to go." He looked around at the wood and then back at the stricken weirwood tree, shaking his head. "Definitely need to find a sapling to send down here, the Blackwoods deserve no less."

With that Ranma left, heading back to the keep. He found Merry precisely where he knew she would be, working on a few of the wounded from the force that he had let to hunt down Tywin. Several of them had taken wounds though none serious, that final battle against Tywin's forces had been rather anti-climactic. He had to bury several men after the battle against the forces from up from Stone Hedge, but he had only lost two men in that final battle. Merry moved quickly around the room, redoing tourniquets and bandages here and there, making sure that their wounds were healing properly and above all that no one was infected.

Ranma greeted her by his customary one armed hug, pulling the younger girl into his body for a moment between beds. "Hey Merry, can I talk to for second?"

Merry blushed in his arm then looked up at him and nodded. "I'm almost done, only one more person to check okay?"

Nodding equably Ranma moved on over to a nearby wall leaning against it as he watched Merry work. Master Martyn might not have been the nicest person, and a misogynist, but he had been a decent enough teacher, and Merry's skill in healing showed that.

Soon enough she was finished, and the last man trooped out of the makeshift nursery. She joined Ranma by the door, smiling at Ranma and asking "So what do you want to talk about Ranma?"

Ranma smiled back then frowned slowly. "I know you said so earlier Merry, but I wanted to make sure that that you really were okay with what is going to probably happen to Tywin and the others. He is your grandfather after all."

Merry shrugged. "I've only met the man about three or possibly five times in my life. He might have sent nameday gifts occasionally, and a fair few stern rebukes on what books I should be reading just like he did for Joffrey and Tommen, but that's not what I would call being a grandfather." She blushed a little looking away. "If anything, I think your father acted more like a grandfather to me and to Tommy than Lord Lannister ever has."

She looked up at Ranma thoughtfully. "I don't think you ever really realized how you and your families warm, family atmosphere shocked Tommen and I. We'd never had to deal with that kind of thing before, we thought it was normal for us to be treated as if we were set on a pedestal, like our older brother. We had gotten used to having a father that treated us as if we were strangers, and a mother who cared for us in a suffocating sort of way. You, your father and Fenris just by being yourselves, you made it an impression on us."

She shrugged. "I realize that as a Lannister I probably should care, but I really don't. My sense of right and wrong and of family above everything else has been affected by you and what I've seen in your company since we left King's Landing. I know justice must be done, and while I'm not happy that it has to cost my mother's side of the family a few members, as I said earlier, I've seen what they've allowed to occur far too closely to have any doubt about the justice of it."

She looked into Ranma's eyes her own green eyes fierce and for a moment despite her Lannister features Myrcella was all Baratheon. "If I had to, I might well do it myself, not just for what they've let happen here in the Riverlands, but because of my mother and Joffrey's actions in King's Landing. I haven't forgotten that monster killed Tommy, or that my mother started this war to keep him on the throne. I still love her, she's still my mother, but if you have to in the future deal out justice to her as well…"

Merry paused shaking her head. "I won't like it, I won't watch it, but I won't stop you." I won't stop loving you she thought to herself, as Ranma's arms went around her once again in a tight hug.

"You're a very strong young lady you know that Merry?" Ranma asked smiling gently, trying to ignore the part of his mind that was whispering comments about Merry indeed being a young lady rather than a girl anymore as he felt her body against his. "And I'm proud to know you."

Merry blushed hotly, then moved away slightly pushing at Ranma's chest for a moment as Ranma, rather reluctantly despite himself, let her loose. "Anything else you wanted to ask?"

Ranma nodded ruffling her hair affectionately. "Nope, it's a little too late for any other questions. Go find your quarters, Merry, I know I'm eager to sleep in a real bed again."

"Yes but does that mean you're actually going to be sleeping in it or…" Merry trialed off, then laughed as Ranma blushed slightly. Seeing his fingers twitching towards her sides Merry backed away and left the room quickly, still giggling.

Ranma stayed there for a moment looking after her then smiled faintly, then headed back to bed.

Over the next few days Ranma and his men rested, while Ranma personally got to know the Blackwoods. He found each and every one of them down-to-earth, honest and intelligent for the most part, though Lucas, one of the sons wasn't that bright, he was also their best blade. Ranma found that out because he was busy training up Patrek, Cley and young Edric as well as he could, and training with Ser Barristan. The old knight was too old to benefit from most of Ranma's training, but training against Ranma and the other Wolfsworn was still excellent for him.

House Blackwood also had around three thousand men that they were willing to add to Ranma's forces, and Ranma turned them over to Jon for further training. Jon and Roger began endurance training on them all so that they would be able to keep up with the rest of the army on the march and began to train them in unit tactics picking out unit commanders with the help of Lucas Blackwood while Tytos himself spent time with Ranma, Daenerys and putting his lands back into order.

The day after Ranma's arrival Ser Blanetree led the most rested and recuperated men out to start hunting down bandit groups, while the rest of the army stayed behind. Between bouts of training the men did those things army men always had to do, fixing torn equipment, finding lost equipment, putting edges to their weapons, all those sorts of things.

Of course, there were also a few funny moments during those relaxing days. One of which Ranma would always remember, the first time Arya formally met Edric.

Arya had spent most of her days with Bess and helping Jon train Blackwood's troops, but she was able to find some time to see to her own training one day in the early morning. She was surprised, and rather irritated to find that young boy, Eric or Alric or something that had arrived with the Brother's Without Borders, already there going through some strength and speed exercises she recognized. "Hmmf, I thought Ranma's training was something he reserved for those who had already proven themselves, I guess that's not true."

Edric turned and saw the girl who had spoken so despairingly was the young Stark girl, the one the Northerners called the She-Wolf. They hadn't been formally introduced, Ranma and Beric overlooking that as Beric tried to compose a message to his betrothed, Allyria (though he still had no way to send it)and Ranma got to know the Blackwoods. Setting aside the fact she was sister to Ranma Stark, whose people had raised him as King of the North, she was still the daughter of a Lord Paramount, however she acted, thus Edric should have replied politely.

But the derogatory tone the girl had spoken in made his hackles rise, so instead he responded in like coin. "I impressed Lord Stark by the training my lord Beric has given me over the past few years. Several months of which, I would add, which I spent living off the land and fighting as one of the Brothers against the Westerlands forces. Very rarely was I safe, and I certainly didn't have an entire army around me like you must have, miss."

Arya growled, her teeth bared in a pure challenge response. "I've fought in the front of over a dozen battles and not once was I kept back and protected like some damn southern flower!"

"I suppose that makes sense." Edric replied, which would have defused things if he didn't go on, smirking. "After all, you look more like a weed than a flower." That wasn't quite true any longer. Arya would never have a very womanly figure, but she still had begun to develop some curves that showed her gender, much to her dismay.

Arya growled again, crouching as if to leap forward, but paused, smirking slightly. Calming down, she straightened up, a challenge gleaming in her eyes. "I don't suppose you'd like to see how well your training with the Brothers stands up against a northern wolf would you? Or are you too scared to cross swords with this weed?"

"I would like nothing better miss." Edric replied, smirking as the miss seemed to irritate the girl.

Not responding verbally, Arya moved over to the nearby rack where training blades were kept, placing Fang there and taking up the training blade she had received with it before moving back to stand across from Edric. "Any rules to this massac-I mean bout?"

"Rules? Combat has rules? Since when?" Edric replied sarcastically, then ducked his head as Arya's blade immediately sought his face.

"Good." Arya grinned wolfishly then pressed in hard. Edric backpedaled at first, but he retained his balance, moving around so that Arya was nearer to the side of the training circle.

Then he kicked out, landing a blow on Arya's thigh that knocked her off balance enough for her training blade to get caught against one of the training grounds posts. His own blade struck forward aiming for Arya's chest, but Arya leaped into the air rising above the blade.

"WHa-ack!"His startled explanation was interrupted by Arya's boot smacking into his face sending him flying, but luckily not breaking his nose. He would have a shiner for days though.

Still Edric rolled with the kick, and when Arya pressed in her blade flashing in a series of blows he was able to redirect them, if barely each time. Arya laughed, having fun with this and not really trying her hardest, since kicking this boy's butt like this was too fun to end quickly.

That ended when Edric suddenly kicked up a bit of mud from the ground into Arya's eyes. She gasped, pulling back and reaching up to her face to wipe the mud away and Edric struck, knocking Arya's blade out of her hand. Before he could capitalize on this however he found his arm gripped in a vice.

"YipE!" With a whoop of displaced air Edric found himself on his back once again. But he still didn't give up, kicking out and bringing Arya down on top of him. The two of them rolled around on the ground, Arya's blade forgotten behind them. Edric had the upper hand at first being larger and heavier than Arya, but Arya was much stronger. Eventually they ended with Arya sitting on Edric's chest, her hands pinning his easily above his head.

But Arya's hands were so small she needed to use both of her hands to keep his arms there. Even so when Edric bucked under her trying to throw her off Arya kept her position easily, grinning down at the slightly older boy. Eventually Edric realized he was caught and stopped fighting, and Arya released her hold on his wrists.

One hand pushed down on his chest while the other rose to wipe the remains of the mud from her face along with pushing back a few errant hairs. Her hair had grown longer the past few weeks, though Arya was thinking of cutting it back down. "What's your name again, mud-boy?"

"Edric, Edric Dayne, She-Wolf. And yours?" Edric asked, staring up at her in a strange mix of wounded pride and good humor. He might not have won, but that had been a lot of fun. That, and Arya's stormy gray eyes were rather compelling.

"Arya, Arya Stark." Arya laughed, pushing herself to her feet. "We should to this again some time, but right now, I think I want a bath." With that she strode over, picking up her training blade as Edric remained where he was, watching her interestedly.

Nearby Beric and Ranma lurked, having watched the 'friendly' bout from beginning to end. Beric turned to Ranma and asked, somewhat bemused, "Why do I get the impression that that was your sister's version of flirting?"

"Yeah, it might've been, probably. Let's just say that Arya's… unique, and leave it at that." Ranma murmured, laughing hysterically on the inside.

OOOOOOO

Upon arriving at Raventree Hall with his brother Jon had spent a few days simply resting, then talking to the rest of the Wolfsworn in particular Arya, hearing their adventures. The second day however when he was getting up to head out to hunt with Ghost he was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in?"

Daenerys entered, dressed as she normally was in leggings and a good solid shirt. "Jon, would you mind accompanying me? I would ask Ranma, but he's going over maps with the cartographers, and I don't want to disturb him for a personal matter like this."

"A personal matter?"Jon asked, getting to his feet quickly. "What kind of personal matter?"

"I wish to ask Tywin a question, one that has haunted much of my life." She smiled thinly.

Moments later the two of them walked down into the dungeons, accompanied by Ser Barristan, who was once more connected to Daenerys's hip as her bodyguard. Raventree Hall did not have enough suites for both its guests and its prisoners, so even the Lannisters had been placed in the normal cells in the dungeons, though Tywin was separated by the others by several empty cells, and there were several guards routinely patrolling the corridor. All of them had been personally chosen by Ranma and Tytos but Tywin continued to try to bribe someone to free him. It hadn't worked yet.

Tywin stood up as he heard a female voice down the corridor, wondering if this might be his granddaughter come to see him. That the girl had not as yet was strange, as was the glare she had sent him when he arrived. However as the voices closed Tywin realized that it was not his granddaughter, but the Targaryen girl. He watched her as she stood on the other side of his cells door, staring at him. "Tywin Lannister, you used to be one of my childhood bogeymen, yet in reality you're not nearly as terrifying as I thought. Of course the Starks were as well, and I have learned long since that reality very rarely matches nightmare."

"You would be the Stormborn girl," Tywin replied coolly, staring hard at her. He absently noticed that Ser Barristan was standing behind her, a fact that shocked and dismayed him somewhat but which was not important at the moment. "You seem to have made a masterful return to the game, especially with those dragons of yours though I am wondering where your older brother is? He would be the true heir of your family after all. Did he send you ahead? Or were you the price he had to pay for gaining Stark aid in reclaiming his throne?"

"My brother and I have very different views about honor and what we are willing to do, something you would learn to your cost if you ever came within arms-reach of him. But I have not come here to banter words with you, I'm here to ask you a very simple question. I have grown up hearing stories about how my nieces and nephews were murdered, how my aunt was raped while their bodies were still cooling in the same room. But there was one question no one could really answer. Did you plan it? Did you plan my nieces and nephews murders, and Elia Martell's?"

Tywin stared at her for a moment then nodded sharply. "Of course," he said simply. "So long as they lived they were a threat, Robert had that part correct at least. I was not willing to let those threats in place. "

He watched as the girl's eyes narrowed, her hands clenching as Ser Barristan also showed visible signs of anger. Jon Stark however, standing to one side of Barristan simply looked at him, his eyes took every bit of Daenerys' willpower not summon Sunfyre to come there right that moment and burn Tywin to ashes. But she didn't, she wouldn't give the man the satisfaction of driving her to murder.

Tywin went on unhurriedly. "However the method of their death and their mother's dishonor was the acts of the Mountain that Rode. I would not have ordered that, simply holding a pillow over the children's heads would've sufficed. I am not a monster, simply practical."

"Would you say the same to the widows and orphans your army has caused, or the thousands of dead and raped?" Daenerys replied coolly, despite the anger still coursing through her. "You might not be a monster in the mold of Gregor Clegane, but that does not make you any less of a monster." She stepped forward lightly, staring hard at the man. "And monsters, 'Lord' Lannister, have to be put down. But it will be done in the name of justice and honor, not vengeance though I will of course take some pleasure in watching your end. Look forward to it. I know I will."

Before Tywin could reply she turned striding off leaving Tywin to stare after her in impotent anger.

OOOOOOO

A day before Ranma was ready to lead the portion of the army here down to Harrenhal to deal with that pocket of Lannister resistance he was called from the exercise area to the great Hall of the keep. He found Tytos and the others already present, as well as a man who looked as if he had ridden himself hard to get here. He looked even worse than Brynden had when Ranma first arrived. He was a youngish man, obviously a page of some sort, and was accompanied by five other armsmen who were now standing near the doorway at attention.

Ranma moved forward to join his wife, taking her hand lately one of the cell as he looked at the messenger. "Yes?"

"Lord Stark?"

"I am."

"Your grandfather Lord Tully asks for your to speak to you personally at Riverrun, as well as all the lords who can gather there and who have proved their loyalty."

Ranma's eyes widened then narrowed, coming up with several good and several bad reasons why Hoster would be making that request. He looked around, knowing that all of the lords present were also doing that, and then nodded firmly. "In that case, I suggest we best get going." That was sooner said than done however, but with Ranma having organized the army already for the march the move was actually done much faster than Tytos had expected. Even his own men were ready and able to go within an hour.

Almost as soon as they were out from Raventree Hall Daenerys leaned close to Ranma whispering. "Is it just me, or are you getting a very bad feeling about this?"

"Not just you," Ranma said grimly. "Trust me it's not just you."

OOOOOOO

Asha laughed quietly, staring at the ruins of the Crag, though calling it a castle at this point was really misleading. It was a ruin basically that had been designed initially to defend this portion of the coast of the Westerlands. She had ordered it taken by a few of the most restless captains, while Black Wind stayed off shore, watching the action. It would settle them down, while the rest of the fleet continued patrolling the area around Fair Isle.

She turned when one of her spotters shouted, "Sail ho, coming in from south, southwest."

Asha frowned then, racing up the rigging to perch on the topmast herself to stare out into the distance. "Get us under way!" she bellowed to her crew below. "I want us to meet that ship quickly."

A few hours later she did, and found it was one of the Blacktyde ships, with one of the captains that young Baelor Blacktyde had recommended as a scout. As soon as they were within shouting distance the man cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted "Sails seen rounding Feastfires, heading north!"

"All right!" Asha bellowed. "I'll get the idiots off the shore, and then we'll be heading back to Faircastle."

Inwardly however Asha's mind was already racing. A fleet to fleet action could go either way, she hoped that her little surprise would work, but if that didn't, if the Lannisters instead decided to go around Fair Isle westward rather than put in at Faircastle for food and provisions, then it would become a stern chase first of all, and then an open ocean battle. If those war galleys were as heavily armed as others such she had seen, that battle could turn into a bloodbath on both sides.

Please let them act true to form, she thought to herself, please.

OOOOOOO

It took several days for Mace and Stannis to reorganize their disparate forces, during which thousands of people tried to escape from King's Landing only to run into the re-strengthened cordon around the city. In return for arranging a marriage to his daughter with Stannis, Mace and the Reach lords joined the Stormlands lords in bowing to the last surviving Baratheon. The only ones who did not were House Tarly's men, who had not stopped in their march south to take Heartsbane home. Stannis had already composed a message of condolence to Randyll's widow, and an official notice that her son would have to appear in front of him on his fourteenth name-day to be recognized as lord of the house.

During that time Stannis sent Davos Seaworth to Sea to liaise with the Lysenni pirate. With Davos commanding the Royal Navy, a portion of the fleet blockading King's Landing quickly made their way east to relieve Dragonstone.

The two leaders also found out that the Lannisters had fled, breaking out of the city. "They weren't even involved the battle!" Mace bellowed, shaking his head as he turned from the man he had sent to speak to Alekyne Florent and discover what had happened. "We put them in charge over because…" He trailed off looking at Stannis.

Stannis smiled grimly. "You and my brother put them in charge over there to keep them away from the battle, which might have been a good move. I am uncertain if they would have joined me in that battle, but they might have. However, they failed to hold that line when Lord Serret led a force of mounted men out somehow from the slums of King's Landing. I have no idea how they got horses out of the city, but they did. At least we know now why your son Loras was moving north, he's obviously going after them."

Unfortunately Loras had both mounted men and infantry, and both man and horse had been in a skirmish and a full scale battle against the Crownlands forces Serret had sent out from the wall as a diversion. Worse they had not taken along much supplies, slowing them down further with their need to forage. Loras had no intention of returning until he had the Lannisters in chains, but his chance to actually catch them before they reached Sow's Horn was slim.

Mace smiled, proud of his son's quick thinking, though he wondered why Loras hadn't joined the main battle. If he had attacked Stannis' army from behind, they might have been able to turn the tide despite everything. Stannis was thinking much the same thing, knowing how close his own army was to exhaustion when Renly's army finally broke. "Nonetheless, Alekyne needs to pay for his incompetence. I will be executing him on the morrow. The other Florent men will be rolled into House Baratheon, and from now on they will form the front of any battle, to mitigate their failure."

Even Mace could understand the unsaid reason for doing that, so he said it aloud. "And further weaken the Florents as a House so when you set aside your current wife they won't be able to cause trouble." Stannis nodded grimly, and Mace broached a subject he and many of his lords had been wondering about. "But I have to wonder what you intend to do about the epidemic in King's Landing. Even with the healers you have added to our own we don't have nearly enough to handle the sick of the city."

"The city is doomed." Stannis replied, shaking his head slowly. "Practically the entire city has been infected by this point, and those that aren't showing signs of the disease are still carrying it. No, the plague cannot be cured, but it can be… excised."

Mace stared at him in dawning horror, then actually thought about it for a moment, before nodding convulsively, looking away. He thought to protest, but what could he say? He had no real solution to the epidemic either, all they could do was keep it contained or… With a shudder Mace left that topic and the discussion continued.

Eventually Stannis decided to send Rolland Storm and Bryce Caron down with the forces from more than half the remaining Reach houses to aid in reclaiming their lands from the Ironborn, numbering about nine thousand, since most of those houses had taken losses already. Both men had impressed him as warriors, if not leaders, but he had heard good things about them in that area as well. The troops assigned to this force left one house at a time, allowing Stannis' men to move into their camps and forts around the city.

Stannis was left with an army of around 27,000. It wasn't the giant hammer that Renly's army had been, but it was still quite a large army, and its quality was actually slightly better. None of the levy forces from the Reach had survived the battle in any shape to continue fighting, and the weaker houses of the Stormlands had been wiped out, which removed some of the less trained infantry and allowed Stannis to apportion their lands out to his followers while Staedmon and those like him added their infantry strength to his. And despite the mauling they had taken, the Reach portion of his army still gave him a large heavy cavalry force.

He was however hurting for archers and scouts. The scout force of both armies had taken a beating on the outskirts of the battle. The archers too had mauled one another throughout the day, leaving a bare two thousand trained archers in the entire army. Stannis retained all of them regardless of House affiliation, but it was still a meager number, and a possible weakness.

With his army and the new addition organized to his satisfaction. Stannis ordered the Reach and Stormlands army forwards towards the city until they were just out of bow range. With less than a thousand defenders holed up here or there in towers around the wall, there was no one to attack them. There were thousands of smallfolk scattered around the wall, but they had learned not to try to escape the city. All of them were hopeful that this new lord meant that the outbreak would soon be brought under control somehow. That hope was in vain.

Some of the Fire Guard moved forward with a dozen mules toward each of the seven gates to pile up large piles of bracken and wood in front of them. Then seven of Melisandre's acolytes came forward. Like the women who had given birth to the Shadow Warriors, they were fully under the sway of R'hllor, ready and willing to sacrifice themselves. They walked up onto the piles of bracken, sitting there as they stared up into the sky, beginning to chant a prayer to R'hllor while the Fire Guard tied them down, 'lest weakness suddenly come upon them'.

Melisandre stood in front of the Gods Gate, her gaze contemptuous as she stared at the images graven thereon. She waited until one of her acolytes then nodded at her, then with a single gesture the pile several meters in front of her ignited. She then gestured to both sides, and the piles of wood underneath the sacrifices in front of each of the seven gates leading into King's Landing burst into pillars of fire.

The flames roared into the sky, brighter and stronger than they should've been just coming from mere wood and human flesh. In the center of those flames the women screamed, not in fear but ecstasy as they gave themselves to R'hllor's sacred flame. Melisandre nodded soberly at their sacrifice, then her eyes closed as her hands rose more. The gem on her choker began to glow cherry red as her will reached out grasping the power of the willing sacrifices of the women to manipulate the flames. The flames grew and grew and grew, then suddenly she gestured forward, and those flames blew through each of the gates melting the portcullis and igniting the wood so fast it almost turned to ash immediately, blasting the rock and rubble set against the inner gates out of the way like the world's largest battering ram.

The flames then spread, heading towards the center of King's Landing as well as around its circumference. The smallfolk in the city, who were barely eking out their lives now, trying desperately to get away from the plague or stay away from the walls fights everywhere, looked up as the sound of fire reached them wherever they were in the city. The flames moved quickly, burning everything in front of them, burning almost hotter than wildfire. Metal, wood, even certain types of stone, it didn't matter, if it was in the way of the flames it burned. People barely lasted long enough to scream, which some might have called a blessing. The flames even buried deep into the Alchemist Guild and elsewhere in the city. There it was stymied by the sand, and dirt. But the heat of the flames spread through those mediums, eventually reaching large caches of wildfire that, unbeknownst to any but perhaps Varys, had remained buried under the city.

These caches had been made in a plot by Mad King Aerys. He had decided that if he lost the war against Robert, he wanted to take King's Landing with him. Learning of this plot was the reason Jaime had broken his vows and taken the king's life, along with his Hand Rossart, Grand Master of the Alchemists Guild. Jaime had then gone on to kill many of the other Wisdoms, accidentally killing anyone who knew where all the wildfire caches were.

Some were later discovered, especially before and after the siege began, but not all of them. Some had been exploded in the out of control fires that had raged here and there in the city before this thanks to attempts to control the riots or the spread of the plague, but others had been buried too deep for those fire's heat to ignite them. Not so now. Every remaining cache ignited as Melisandre's flames raced through the city.

Melisandre screamed suddenly, falling back as loud booming sounds echoed from the city. "W-Wildfire!" she gasped shaking her head. "There were catches of wildfire hidden under the city, randomly I think…"Melisandre pushed herself away from Stannis who had caught her reflexively. "The, the wildfire will change the nature of my flames my lord. It will do its work my Lord, faster than we even expected…."

Underneath the pain of her spell of control being broken like that Melisandre was furious. She had hoped to gather in the power from the thousands of lives her flames snuffed out in the city, much like she did formal sacrifices. She wouldn't have been able to grab as much power as from a real sacrifice, but the total number of lives would have meant she would have taken in enough energy to power any spell she could think of. Instead she was left with only a small pittance form the original willing sacrifices, the rest having broken free form her grasp under the shock of the wildfire changing the nature of her fire. Melisandre almost reached out in an attempt to regain that connection, but stopped herself quickly. No one could control wildfire once it had ignited.

Stannis knew nothing about her thoughts however. He simply stared at the ongoing death of King's Landing, his eyes bleak. "I hated that city you know." he said almost conversationally. "I loathed it with every fiber of my being. Every person in that court was there for their personal aggrandizement, every person there thought he or she was more important than everyone else. There was so much backstabbing, so much plotting, so much disgusting greed, graft and dark ambitions. And the smallfolk, from the merchants to the squatters in Fleas Bottom had that much in common, making war with words in one area and knives in the dark in the other. Everyone above preyed on everyone below. Yet even so, I wouldn't have wished this on it. I wouldn't wish this fate on anyone. Chance and fortune are truly fickle bitches."

After a moment he took a deep breath then resolutely turned his gaze away from King's Landing, grateful that the screams from the dying couldn't reach the army where it was encircling the city. Even the sight alone was enough to cause shouts and even screams of dismay and shock from the men however. "How long do you think?"

"I do not know my Lord."Melisandre replied quietly, her gaze staring at the flames which were now tinged with green. "The wildfire was not in my calculations. I will say that I am glad that the pirates moved their blockade further away however, and we should be ready to move just in case." Stannis nodded, and the two of them continued to stare at the pyre that was burning King's Landing, the greatest or at least largest city of Westeros to the ground.

End chapter

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This was seriously not the chapter I thought I'd be putting out. The battle between Stannis and Renly became much larger, and there were so many other little loose needs to talk about, that I just couldn't write them up and polish the sections dealing with Ranma's faction. I have a lot of that part written, so I might, as said above, be able to get the next chapter of this story out along with my surprise and the next chapter of ATP by the end of October. We'll see. I will say at least a third of the chapter will show what has been going on up North. Oh, and maybe Margaery's reaction to the news that her father has just agreed to marry her off to Stannis. Hint, her response would appear as a lot of asterisks.

Hope you all enjoyed, and hope that at least some of what happened surprised you.

As always please review. They are the pizza to the writer's soul.