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.

17. Chapter 17

I do not own Ranma 1/2 or ASoIaF, mores the pity. The second would be done, and the first would have had much more combat and romance father than slapstick comedy.

I would like at this time to recommend to my readers that you go and look for the light novel series called Heavy Object. Combat, comedy and character driven it is all there, and the translation over at Baka-Tsuki is one of the best I've ever seen on light novels. Some of the jokes man, so damn funny! I've even seen the anime it's based off of, and if it follows the light novel as much as possible, it could be the best new anime I've seen for a long time. Best giant robot anime in years no doubt, simply because the characters Heivia and Quenther, have to take out the giant robots with cunning and plans rather than strapping into one themselves. And their back and forth is freaking hilarious.

This chapter was a bit of an issue, simply because I am not as emotionally invested in most of the characters who I use as POV here. Unfortunately I couldn't just wave my hand and make the events in this chapter not happen, and I wanted to show rather than tell as many of these events as I could without becoming incredibly bogged down.

Thanks go to Anthony444 for his beta-work, but as always we are still dealing with missing space and DNS issues. The spellchecker on FF can't keep up with all the names, and stops working before halfway down the page, so checking it through is almost impossible.

Anyway, here we go.

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Wild Wolf 17 Threats Abound

While Ranma was waging his Riverlands campaign against the Lannisters, the North had continued to prepare for the coming of winter and for the supernatural forces that every Lord in the North knew were on their way. It had been eight thousand years since the events of the Long Night, but the North still remembered. While only bits and pieces of knowledge of the great enemy had survived in story and song, with very few written records, what was needed to survive through a long winter was known by everyone.

"…And the mountain clansmen seconded to Lord Hornwood have reported they haven't seen any sign of further Ironborn, so I think we can assume that their aborted invasion has ended. In other news, House Moss sent a raven this morning. They report that their holdfast is prepared for winter, which means the last of bannermen have sent messages of their House's readiness. Of course just because the holdfasts are ready don't mean the people are or their larders, and I have my doubts about a few of them my Lord, so if you would…"

"Yes I know the ones you're speaking of, and I will send a force of my own men out on rounds to their holdfasts to make certain." Eddard said with a nod over his shoulder from where he was standing by the window. Yet it was obvious his mind was not on what Maester Luwin was saying.

He and his wife were staring down into Winterfell's courtyard, where Rickon was beginning to learn the ways of the sword. To one side Rickon's direwolf Shaggydog had begun its own training at the hands of the gentle giant Hodor. He was the only man in the Castle that was stronger than the direwolf at this point, and he was also utterly fearless around the large beast.

"That should've happened months ago." Catelyn said tartly from beside him holding their baby Hoster in her arms, jutting down at the direwolf with her chin. "Nor am I pleased with how fascinated Hoster is with the large creatures, every time he escapes me or his nurse he tries to find Shaggydog or Summer. Summer is a pure darling with him, but Shaggydog just doesn't have the same control over himself."

Presently Hoster was asleep, his lips still stained somewhat with mother's milk, and the sight of him there in Catelyn's arms made Eddard smile, his small but oh-so-warm smile that had made Catelyn fall for him years ago. While it was still too soon to tell what color the babe's hair would be, it looks to be as red as Sansa or Bran's, though his eyes were clear Stark, and he certainly seemed to have the same rambunctious nature as Arya, Rickon and Ranma.

"We'll have to train Shaggydog as much as we can, or let him out loose into the wild. And the direwolf would be a deadly threat to any band of hunters it came across."

"I know that, it's just I wish one of the others was here to help train him, that's all."

"You wish that for more than just the aid in training Shaggydog my love, as do I." Eddard said with a sigh. "Given the threat bearing down on us, I could wish that the Queen had not started this whole war."

"I think this war was brewing the moment Robert and the Queen married. The Queen was always a haughty, prideful woman, and no woman would willingly put up with the way Robert treated her, dishonoring her as blatantly as he did." Catelyn mused.

To that Eddard simply nodded, unwilling at this date to try and defend his friend's memory. "True enough." Then Eddard sighed, leaning over to kiss Catelyn gently on the cheek.

Taking her cue Catelyn nodded. "I think it's time for this one to be taken away husband, I don't want yours or the good maester's voices to wake him up." Catelyn smirked, shaking her head. "I don't get enough sleep as it is with him around."

Luwin stood up from his chair in front of his Lord's desk to bow from the waist as Catelyn left, then turned back to Eddard who had moved over to sit down, his face far grimmer than it had been. "I've picked out five of my best men, each of them will lead 10 others, to head out on inspections of the holdfasts on House Stark lands then to every minor Lord beholden directly to us. I refuse to let any of our folk freeze or starve because one of their lords did not wish to put forth the effort to truly prepare for winter, whatever his reasons."

Luwin nodded, then marked off a list of names that Eddard spoke before his Lord moved on to the next subject. "Has there been further word from House Manderly?"

"Yes my Lord." Luwin smiled faintly. "Lord Manderly might not be the most martial character, but he has some of the neatest handwriting I have ever seen. He reports that White Harbor is almost prepared for winter, and that he has put out the word on his lands ordering as many families as possible to gather in the city. It's giving him a surprisingly large boost to his workforce, and several old projects have been taken up apparently to renovate the city."

"More importantly, one of his factors in Essos has reported in. They were able to retain the Windblown, though of course White Harbor will have to supply them with winter coats and clothes before they can arrive, which the factor has taken out of their pay, a canny move that. According to the report they are nearly at full strength, 2,000 men mostly infantry and horse."

"That is fine." Eddard said with a nod. "I received word from our workers on the White Knife that it is clear all the way from Long Lake down to White Harbor and even the tributary that heads into House Cerwyn's land is now prepared for large barge traffic. When it starts freezing we'll have problems, but I believe that my son wishes to speak to the two of us tonight about that very thing." He smiled proudly. "Bran the Builder come again!"

He frowned thoughtfully then, leaning back in his chair as he stared at the ceiling. Word had reached them of the string of initial victories that Ranma and his forces had won, the fall of the Twins being the most major one. There had been news from White Harbor a few weeks back of another victory down near Fairmarket, but the further south the army went, the worse the line of communication up to the North became.

Eddard was worried for his oldest sons and Arya, worried about his daughter-in-law, worried about what might be happening down south, very worried. So was only with an effort of will that he was able to turn back to matters he could actually control. Leave the war in Ranma's capable hands, he's proven time and time again that he is up to that task. Deal with what you can here, so that he has a home to come back to when it's over.

"I note," he said coming back to the here and now. "That you did not mention Barrowton or House Dustin."

"No, my Lord." Luwin said coughing somewhat delicately. "Lady Dustin has not sent any word. And given the distances, I'm afraid I haven't been able to hear of any rumors about anything from there, but it worries me. On the other hand, Torren's Square has reported they are well along their own preparations."

"I'll write out a message to Lord Ryswell." Eddard said with a sigh. "As the woman's father, I suppose he can be relied upon to make certain that she is doing her duty there, old gods know if I write the woman myself she'll just dig in her heels further. I'll have it for you later tonight. Is there anything else we need to work on before I turned to Winterfell's own paperwork?" He allowed his lips to twitch and smile, and a slight, hopeful edge enter his voice for a moment.

There wasn't, and Luwin left his lord to his work. Despite having technically stepped down as Lord of Winterfell with Ranma elsewhere, all the duties of the Lord Paramount had once again settled on Eddard's shoulders. By rights he should have been making Bran help him, since for now Bran was his older brother's heir. But Luwin and Eddard had spoken about it along with Catelyn, and had decided that Bran's abilities were best spent elsewhere.

Later that evening Bran proved that allowing him to work on his own projects was indeed the best use of his time. He sat across from his parents at the head table, while all around them the meal continued while the youth gestured excitedly to several sketches he had made on precious pieces of parchment. "Skates I call them, they'll have to be heavy, and of iron, and putting them on and off will be a massive chore. But with this, and with some method of moving the ships down the river, we should be able to continue to use the White Knife for traffic once it's frozen over entirely."

Looking at the drawings Eddard pursed his lips. "How exactly would these skate barges move my son?"

"Pulled by teams of reindeer, father. That's one way anyway. Reindeer and moose can pull surprisingly large loads, not as much as oxen, but quite a bit."

"Will these barges be able to transport as heavy loads as you could if the river was not frozen?" Catelyn asked.

Bran shook his head. "No, if we tried the same size loads we'd have to use triple teams, and it would still be incredibly slow." The river barges could carry up to twenty times the amount of a wagon cart, possibly as much as seven thousand stone. "I thought about using wind power, but I don't think that would work really, since if the river-men were slow about responding they could find themselves skidding off the river and I don't think the skates would respond well to that. I'd like to set up some experiments father, if you don't mind? But I don't think that's the way to go. Smaller barges during the winter will have to be necessary."

"Building such will be another expense…" Luwin murmured.

"We are good for it, my friend."Eddard said with a smile. "Besides, I am almost positive that House Umber and House Manderly would be willing to pay for half the construction costs for some of these barges, and if we pay for half of them, then we get half the profits down the line that the families working them receive. Even in winter the economy must move."

Catelyn nodded firmly, and Luwin smiled slightly. That was one area where Eddard was totally unlike most lords. He understood the fact that the economy, the movement of goods and the exchange of said, made everything go around.

The designs in question were simple affairs, a barge with a large roofed portion in the front, where Bran said that the workers for the barge would be housed, simple cots shown on another sketch, along with a small kitchenette. Water of course would be no issue, and heating up the frozen water would remove any poisons from it.

"The work will be difficult." Luwin murmured, still playing the part of the Stranger's advocate, seeing the down side in all things as was his role in these meetings.

"True enough, but I believe that we can incite people to sign up to join these barge crews even in the midst of winter with incentives in the way of food or drink, or if whole families then they could be given a percentage of the profits from every load they deliver. Say 5 or 10%, unless they work on the actual creation of the barges as well, which of course would bump that up to 30 or 40. All of us would still make a tidy profit even so." Eddard replied thoughtfully.

That was true, and not just because of the iron deposits on the newly created House Shieldarm's lands. Those were even larger than Luwin's initial estimates had shown, though eventually the ease with which it was being mined would fade of course. House Umber however had massive reserves of coal. That coal could be the difference between life and death once the full winter chill closed in for many. And in return, the other houses would pay through the nose for that coal, either in goods such as from White Harbor, Winterfell, or House Locke, or in silver and gold such as in the case of the others.

"The profit point will be especially true when winter starts moving south of the Neck. The Riverlands might have coal deposits closer to home, but transportation would still be an issue as would the workforce in the dead of winter. I have no idea how prepared the Lords in the South are for this winter, even if the Council of Maesters announced autumn months ago." Catelyn said shaking her head, before going on.

"Worse, with the war raging down there I don't think any Lord will have enough time or energy to devote preparing his lands for winter, and while I have extreme respect for the common sense of the smallfolk, no doubt even among them there will be those who do not believe that this winter will be any worse than the last one. And coal was never mined as heavily south of the neck as it is here in the North."

"True enough."Eddard sighed, before smiling at his son. "You're fidgeting Bran. That means you have something else to show us, yes?"

Bran nodded, grinning at his father and then his mother who smiled proudly at him. Bran would never be a warrior, would never be a leader of men in the field of combat. But his mind and energy had done more for Winterfell and for the North in general than any hundred such men.

"Yes father I do." He replied, reaching down into a small pouch. What he pulled out looked like a large hand and a half sized cage of thing iron shaped in a ball, but inside was a small glowing piece of coal. The heat could be felt coming off a thing as Bran gingerly set it down on the table, holding it by a small chain that was about the length of his father's hand. "This is a new design father, it's nothing incredibly inventive, but…" He shrugged uncomfortably, never really happy about putting himself forward like this.

"But, it can be held hanging at someone's belt buckle." Said Eddard thoughtfully, tapping the end of the chain with a finger. "And held under a cloak?"

"Yes! That's what I thought anyway. It would keep a person's body warm, and so long as they had gloves and a cloak, it would, I think, be just enough to keep them warm enough to survive in a winter's night." Weeks later Bran had moved on from those projects, leaving them in the hands of skilled carpenters and blacksmiths pulled from all around House Stark's land, so that he could work with training up the first few groups of reindeer and Moose from the mountains. They had been brought down by the mountain clans, who are now investing Wintertown. This was part of their eons old agreement with House Stark. Wintertown was always open to the mountain clans in times of winter.

"Your lad's a wonder with the animals." Said the Wull, standing on the wall of Winterfell as he stared down into the courtyard, then over the wall out into Wintertown. "And I can't thank you enough for this Stark."

Eddard shrugged. "My family has always held Wintertown open for you and yours my friend, the length of the winter is immaterial to that."

"Aye, but we've been feeling it sore these past few weeks up in the mountains. Every man knows it's going to be a bad one, and a long one."

"True enough on many levels."Eddard said with a sigh. The two men exchanged a worried glance, turning their gazes northward. "That is the direction the real threat will come."Eddard murmured. "We have a few months, then winter will truly be upon us here in the North, and what comes with it." He shook his head. "I could hope my son has finished up in the south, but with all of the damned politics down there, that's doubtful."

The Wull grunted irritably, not saying anything about that. "It'll be worse on the Wall."

"Oh yes." Eddard said shaking his head. "I have no doubt it will be much worse on the Wall."

OOOOOOO

At the same time that his family was being hammered by Ranma and Winterfell was keeping busy, Tyrion Brightwall, Lord Commander of the Order of the Ardent Defender, was leaning back in a comfortable chair reflecting on the past few months. The luxury was something unusual here on the Wall, and had been bought by Tyrion's quickly dwindling funds, but it and the bed that occupied a portion of his corridors here in Sable Hall, was well worth it. As were the services of the whore who was sleeping in his bed at the present moment, though her affections for a week cost him far less than paying for the transportation of the bed she was sleeping on.

It had taken his ship a month to get up from White Harbor to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, and another two weeks to travel along the wall back the Castle Black. The going was far harder on the ocean at this point, and bits and pieces of ice had begun to appear when they rounded the cape into the Bay of Seals, some of which would tear the bottom of a ship out as easily as any rock.

Still, the ship had made its way through, and he had eventually returned to Castle Black with the remit of his new knightly order in hand. Jeor Mormont had looked at the idea askance at first, but when Tyrion explained the king and queen's reasoning, as well as what it would mean for the Wall, he acquiesced with good grace.

But since then Tyrion gotten to work organizing his new order, seconding several men into it immediately. Most of these men came from the mercenaries who'd been hired in ones and twos from Essos or elsewhere, the least worse of them was Bronn. A decent swordsman and tactician whose loyalty stayed true to whoever bought it, Bronn had become Tyrion's second-in-command of the Order, and had already picked out land for it in The Gift.

Tyrion smirked a little. I doubt any of the Northerners really know why we've chosen that particular bit of land, and I'm certainly not going to point it out to them. It had originally been part of Brandon's Gift, and it was about three days back of the Wall straight down from Rimegate and Sable Hall. It contained an old mine. In the past it had apparently been for coal, but had been abandoned years ago for some reason. And according to Bronn it also contained what might prove to be a seam of diamonds.

At least that's what Bronn says, but since he and his men were brave enough to go into that mine to look around, it behooves me to believe him. Especially since the man said his father was a miner and his family miners as far back as anyone can remember. It will take time and a lot of hard work, but eventually my knightly order is not going to be totally dependent on the crown for its income.

Yet strangely enough for anyone who knew the Lannisters, Tyrion wasn't thinking about that fact with the idea of betraying Ranma and Daenerys. No, he had made a home for himself here on the Wall, he was respected here not as a Lannister but as Tyrion Brightwall, and that was worth more to him than he would have been prepared to admit given how many dreams he'd had of being Lord Lannister.

Indeed, he'd been so busy of late that he'd had no time to spare worrying about his family, not that he had any inclination to do so for most of them, an aunt or cousin here and there, and of course his brother was about all actually. No, that money wouldn't be used to foment any kind of rebellion, instead it would be used to make his life up here as comfortable as possible, well, him and his order in its entirety. That and the work being done here in Sable Hall was making it almost homely already.

Pretty good work, considering that I was only able to use fifteen men to clear the castle out. Six of the ten floors of the Castle have already been cleared out, and the last of my so-called recruits have been sworn in. I could wish that I had some input on the oath they had sworn, but frankly it makes sense and it's certainly softer than the Night's Watch oath.

The oath in question, which Daenerys and Ranma had come up with, was much like that of most knightly orders but made a special point to emphasize two areas: one, its mission of guarding the Wall, and two, maintaining the siege equipment along the Wall. This would allow the order to have a far larger segment of its numbers devoted to logistics than any normal Knightly Order would have been able to. Indeed, actual combat skills with anything but bows weren't necessary for the Order of the Ardent Defender.

The other bit was that one of the royals had realized that whatever they could do, life on the Wall would always be harsh, and forcing someone to remain there forever, especially someone who volunteered for it, would make recruitment far harder. So the order had three levels of commitment. Only one level, those men who had joined the order from the Night's Watch or like Tyrion himself who was here due to political reasons, had to remain on the wall the rest of their lives.

The other two levels were based on time spent on the Wall. The first was for raw recruits, an oath to remain on the Wall for a year, to see if they could handle it, named Novitiates. If they couldn't they could leave at the end of the year with no dishonor, but nothing to show for it save free transportation down to White Harbor, not even their weapons.

Named Cavaliers, a Braavosi term, the second group would be served for eight years. If they left at the end rather than signing up for another hitch the cavaliers would be paid handsomely for their time. Enough for any of man to set a man and his family up in a trade or with land and be very well off. Dozens of young men from White Harbor and House Flint had already signed up for this commitment level, and Tyrion had welcomed the additions to his work force.

His thoughts were interrupted by his door banging open abruptly. Tyrion looked up one eyebrow raised as Bronn stepped through leering for a moment at the whore on the bed who quickly covered herself up, scowling irritably at the other man. "Another new girl Little Lion?"

"Ah well, I have to do my part to live up to our orders name of the Ardent Defender you know." Tyrion laughed then asked, "So what brings you to my room Bronn?"

"A messenger has arrived from Castle Black oh ardent one, the Old Bear has called for a meeting apparently."

Tyrion groaned aloud, uncaring that both Bronn and the northern wench in his bed were smirking at him now. "Have mercy on these Westerlands bones of mine. Please don't say I have to go back out onto that Wall!"

"Life is hard and then you die." Bronn said with a grim yet amused smile. He moved over to a pile of clothing by the bed, smirking at the woman who chuckled a little curling up in the bed under the covers while Bronn turned back to Tyrion tossing the clothing at him. "Bundle up warm now yer Lordship, we wouldn't want anything important to freeze off would we?"

"Next you'll tell me that the sky is blue, or that water is wet." Tyrion groaned, but began to pull on a heavy cloak over his normal clothing. He then pulled on a warm set of excellent gloves, which he had made to fit before leaving White Harbor, since none of the ones sent up to the Wall or already here for the Night's Watch had come in his size. And they had been almost as expensive as the bed he'd ordered at the same time, minus it's transportation costs of course.

Still they were more than worth the money, something he was forced to once more admit after leaving heading up onto the Wall. It was cold down below but up here it was far worse. Frostbite had claimed several lives already, and it was going to get worse. He and Bronn stood there for a moment, checking over one another to make certain that every bit and piece of skin was covered, a necessity for anyone working on the Wall at this point for an extended length of their eyes were covered by thin strips of cloth. "Let's get this over with." Tyrion said his words muffled by the heavy scarf he wore woven around his head.

Bronn nodded, and they both moved up on across the Wall briskly. The journey took several hours but thanks to their warm clothing, the trip wasn't nearly as arduous as Tyrion made it out to be.

Tyrion spent a brief moment looking over the Wall out into the distance of the North beyond it, wondering how the wildlings were getting on with this cold. Of course, they have a lot of experience with it just like these northern louts do. Though I don't think they'll have handled it as well, and of course we have the castles as well as all of the other preparations on the Wall.

It had astonished Tyrion how methodically and easily the Northerners had taken to the drop in temperature. It pained him to admit that most of the casualties were among the Night's Watchmen who had come from south of the Neck or the mercenaries. It had hammered his new Order quite a bit, but it had tapered off quickly as men began to learn the necessary skills to survive. Of course Tyrion's own ideas for the small signal towers and their braziers had helped tremendously.

When they reached the lift down to Castle Black all of the men nodded at Tyrion familiarly, causing him to grin and spend a few moments joking with them before getting on the large device. It was a sense of camaraderie, a sense of belonging and respect that he had never truly felt with anyone but Jaime and a few others from his own family who are willing to ignore his father's example before.

Soon enough Tyrion was ensconced in Jeor's room by the fire, while Bronn and his other men went off to find their own fires or other ways of getting warm. He was not the only one there. Benjen Stark was there as well, along with representatives from Eastwatch, Shadow Tower, and all of the other forces on the Wall. They all nodded respectfully to Tyrion, then turned their attention back to Jeor Mormont, who was sitting in his own chair in the circle, while before them all the map of the Wall was stretched out from one end of the table to the other.

After Tyrion had taken his seat Jeor turned his attention back to Harrion Karstark, while Tyrion idly wondered how he and the commander of Eastwatch had arrived before him. "So you executed them?"

"They might have been Night's Watch, but being in the Night's Watch only absolves you of crimes before you join. Both men were guilty of rape and murder, as well to try and cover up their rape. Moreover, the woman wasn't a whore from the Wall, she was one of the drovers wives from the Gift. If I hadn't executed both of them we might have had a riot on our hands. I did it cleanly, I doubt house Umber would've done the same."

"Aye, we would've made them howl for mercy first." Said Mors, scowling fiercely. "We can't let that kind of lack of discipline stand, especially when it c'ld impact our supplies."

Tyrion remained silent, understanding that this talk was not the real reason why he was here, just something that had been going on before he arrived.

The old Night's Watch commander nodded slowly, like the bear on his old family crest, ponderous but with the certain weight to it. "True enough. But it isn't an isolated incident, those two made the, what, twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth men of the Night's Watch to be executed for crimes since the reinforcements on the Wall began?"

Another Night's Watchmen whose name Tyrion didn't know nodded from where he stood behind his Lord. "Some men just aren't willing to learn from examples my Lord, but for the most part the men realize what they can and can't get away with. I don't think it's a big issue just yet but once we face a large-scale battle it might be, especially if we take prisoners but…" He shrugged. "Those will be wildlings anyway."

"Sooner put my cock in a meat grinder then fuck a spearwife," said Harrion exchanging a laugh of agreement with a few of the others, including Tyrion. "Still, rights of war and all that."

To one side sipping at his own mug of warm ale Benjen grimaced. He knew all too well how his oldest nephew would reply to a statement like that and hoped that the boy never learned of it. But without Ranma here, there was no one who cared enough to stand up for such women after the battle ended. Yes, many of the men who were present would refuse to take part, but that was a long way from actively fighting their fellows to stop it from occurring in the first place.

"Let's move onto another topic." said Jeor turning to Tyrion. "Your requisition from King's Landing has finally arrived Little Lion. It had to be transported overland from White Harbor. Apparently the seas have become too rough to transport the wildfire safely. It and the alchemists are here now. We'll talk to them later, after Kyle, Denys and Bowen arrive from Shadow Tower and Westwatch-by-the-Bridge. For now, tell me about the latest work on the catapults."

Tyrion nodded agreeably, and went over what everyone there already probably knew before Kyle Condon and Bowen Marsh arrived a few hours later. Bowen Marsh was a short, fat faced man, with wide shoulders and a face made uglier by years and a nose that looked squashed and misshapen. He was not the most welcoming of men to the reinforcements, and had been sent to command Westwatch-By-the-Bridge after it had been reopened and repaired more to get him out of the way than anything else.

Ostensibly he should have been under command of Denys Mallister, commander of Shadow Tower. Slightly older than even Jeor, he'd been known as a stern, unflappable man who had joined the Night's Watch because he thought their calling an honorable one rather than because he was forced to. His death in his sleep had been a blow to all who knew him, and put a not insignificant hole in the Wall's command structure.

By the point Kyle and Bowen arrived it was night out, not that it mattered here in Jeor's study. After Kyle sat, and had a few moments to sip at the warm ale prepared for him and warm his feet by the fire Jeor began without further preamble. "Benjen, you have the floor."

Benjen nodded, setting his own mug down and looking around the circle grimly. "I've pulled back all of my scouts." He said bluntly. "The wildlings have pushed up almost to the edge of the Haunted Forest and their numbers are tremendous. I wouldn't have believed that anyone could move that many wildlings in one direction, but Mance seems to have figured out the tune to make them all dance the way he wants them to. My best estimate, and I hasten to point out this is only an estimate, is that the outriders of the horde number at least 12,000 straight north of Castle Black. A few of my scouts were able to get past them further to the east and west, and judging from how wildly they report seeing camps, all told the wildlings might number around 200,000."

Into the thoughtful silence that started Benjen went on in a softer tone. "Of course it's spread out, I would estimate that none of the wildling forces have more than six or eight thousand in anyone camp. But they're all coming south as quickly as they can."

"Did any of your scouts report anything… unusual?" Jeor asked, looking at him. The two of them had already gone over this, but a few of the commanders had evinced some skepticism about what the Lords from Winterfell had shared by raven weeks ago. He didn't, nor did Benjen.

Tyrion did somewhat despite his discussion with Ranma and his queen, but then again that was simply Tyrion's nature coming out. He never believed much of anything until he could examine it for himself.

"Several things." Benjen replied with a nod. "Many of them report seeing odd blue lights occasionally in the distance at night. Obviously none of them were wishful to come any closer than they had to such as that. And the wildlings don't go around at night in parties smaller than a hundred."

"They're not even attacking us in smaller groups than that." Said Kyle with a nod, his handsome face grim. He had been a skeptic at first, but the actions of the wildlings were beginning to worry him, lending credence to the idea of what might be out there. He then glanced at Jeor. "I understand that you tried to send an official parlay out?"

"I had hoped that the wildlings would be willing to talk at least." Replied Jeor. "But they don't. Their hatred for us, for the crows as they call us, is too powerful, let alone their disdain for 'kneelers' in general."

"My men would not be willing to go along with any kind of treaty with those savages." Mors Umber stated flatly nodding to a man behind him, who nodded back angrily. "Our memories are as long as the Norrey. They've raided our lands too often, carrying off our womenfolk and killing too many of our folk. If they want to come ahead, even if they're bein' pressed from behind by the White Walkers, I won't shed a single tear for the entire fucking horde."

"You would not be alone in that alas." Said Jeor. "But I have to look beyond the wildlings to the White Walkers and wonder what kind of force they have prepared. Not since the Night's King have they been seen, and even then it was more rumor than fact. Nor am I happy about how few of our men really believe the true threat coming."

Admittedly that was more a problem for Tyrion and Jeor than it was for the pure northern or clan forces. Southerners simply didn't believe in anything to do with the White Walkers until they stared at it in the face, and the fact that the only Maester on the Wall that did believe was the ancient Targaryen Aemon was not helping matters there. Every other maester on the Wall refused to even consider their existence seriously, some even calling into doubt the original stories about them.

"We could use their numbers holding the Wall, but if they don't talk to us…" Jeor shrugged philosophically. "There's nothing more that we can do. But I do want to make it very clear that if they begin to talk to us, we will be open to it. You don't have to like it Mors, but we might need those men, aye and women, on the Wall."

For a moment tension gripped the room as the two old men stared at one another their gazes unflinching and hard. But then Tyrion spoke up philosophically. "That is a bridge we can cross when or rather if we get to it. For now, are there any more preparations we need to make?"

"Two points. I am ordering the sealing of Stonedoor, Queensgate, and Rimegate's tunnels. I want them frozen all the way through as quickly as possible, which will leave the one here at Castle Black, we'll see if we can possibly trick them into attacking us here."

There were four tunnels through the wall, named for the castles they were part of. Defended by dozens of murder holes around and above them, several heavy oaken doors, and portcullises, they were the only technically weaknesses in the Wall's defenses. But they could be made as solid as the rest of the wall by stuffing them with stone and water, which would freeze and make the tunnels just another part of the Wall.

"Second, I think it's time we open the old armory in every other castle as we have here in Castle Black." Jeor went on. "I'm pulling off men from the continued work on the siege weapons to do those things."

Tyrion nodded, making a note to head down there himself. He'd heard rumors about the old armories, and the fact they housed weapons that had been used against the White Walkers eons ago, but what those weapons were he couldn't discern. Sable Hall had an armory, but it didn't have anything special in it.

Worse, Tyrion couldn't read any of the records that might pertain to it. They were so badly faded no one could make out anything but a word here and there, not enough to give them any true solid information outside what Jon Stark had found in Winterfell, which was far too little.

"I also want every Castle to have half of their men ready to reinforce the guards on the Wall day and night. Just because we have the Wall and the siege weapons and everything else is no reason we can overlook the threat the wildlings pose."

After that Jeor called in the alchemists, giving them their marching orders, and formally turning over Oakenshield, the castle directly east of Castle Black which had already been opened and cleaned, to them. "Whatever you need to make more wildfire you'll get. I want to give the wildlings and anything else coming south a warm reception."

Soon after, Tyrion excused himself. He and Bronn made their way down into the depths of the castle, where the armory here had already been opened.

Inside they found the room packed with old suits of armor, mostly bronze and iron, with a few bits and pieces of rusted rune-encrusted armor here and there standing out from the crowd, their surfaces mangled and scarred. There were also old casks of arrowheads, though when Bronn opened one up he laughed. He reached in, pulling out an arrow head and holding it up to the torchlight. "Dragonglass? Who would make an arrow out of Dragonglass, it's too brittle! The edge is wicked sharp but it won't get through any kind of armor."

Tyrion was silent, moving around him with his own torch holding it up to the far wall where row upon row of small Dragonglass daggers had been hung. Below them several dozen had shattered when they had dropped after the ropes tying them to the wall had rotted away, yet there were still more here than he had thought there would be. "Dragonglass…" Tyrion murmured to himself, his analytical brain going to work. "The White Walkers are supposed to be a force of ice and death, and Dragonglass is made from volcanoes, fire against ice."

Bronze stopped laughing staring at him incredulously. "I thought you were just going along with this northern madness, don't tell me you're actually beginning to believe it?"

"Magic has returned to the world, the dragons that the Stormborn showed me that. And if you need more, look at this." Tyrion moved past the wall of Dragonglass daggers deeper into the armory pushing through a mangled doorway at the far end to stand in another room.

What had caught his attention was a few plates of armor, the light of them glimmering for a moment with something other than the light of the torch. Bronn pushed in after Tyrion, having to kneel to go through the whole Tyrion had hacked in the doorway. Once within he stood, staring at the 12 bronze suits of full plate armor, much like the ones in the outer room, except these…

All of them looked almost as if they had been finished a few days ago, the runes on them, possibly of a better variety than the ones in the first room, having kept them in pristine condition. And those same runes were glimmering faintly not from the light of the torch, but from an inner fire, yellow and white.

"Seeing this, I think I'm beginning to believe, truly believe my friend." Tyrion said thoughtfully reaching out to tap one of the suits so that it rang. "Yes, I am really beginning to believe, and to be worried."

OOOOOOO

"Ware, ice on the port bow!"

Theon Greyjoy and the captain of his current flagship, the White Walls looked at one another, then hurried forward. Both of them were heavily bundled up, though unlike on the wall it hadn't become quite cold enough here in the Bay of Seals to force people to go around with all of their skin covered for fear of frostbite.

The two men stood at the prow the boat for a moment staring at the rather large chunk of ice floating past. The ocean was so clear at the moment they could see slightly into it below the ice floating on the surface, so they knew that there was more ice below the surface.

The captain, a middle-aged man who looked as if he had been mauled by a bear or something similar in the past shook his head tugging at a beard that you could hide a small animal in. "That's what, the tenth we've seen since entering the Bay of Seals?"

"I think it might be more than that." Theo said shaking his head. "The Bay of Seals is getting more and more dangerous, but at least we haven't lost any ships just yet."

"Yes, but you hit the nail on the head when you said yet, lad." The captain said shaking his head. "It's only a matter of time before we start losing people. And once that starts happenin', no sailor's gonna want to attempt the Bay again. Ya'll have to switch entirely over to River and land travel ta send supplies up to the Wall." He whistled suddenly pointing off to the side. "Look at that one!"

The ice that the man had noticed off in the distance made the one that the ship had sailed by look small in comparison. It towered above the ships sides by a few meters, though thankfully it wasn't as tall as the masts.

For a moment both men were silent then the captain shook his head. "I'm going to order round-the-clock watch not only from the crow's nest but from fore and aft as well, and periodic soundings too."

"A good idea," Theo replied, shaking his head in too. "I could wish that this mission wasn't necessary, the Wall could probably use more men but…" he shrugged.

The captain laughed. "Funny thing is, if we just waited until the ice became too dangerous to sail in the Bay of Seals, that would probably stop the Raiders out from Skagos and Skane."

"Maybe, or then again maybe they'd be willing to attempt it anyway. Four ships have been attacked, and one totally destroyed in the past month and a half, and until the day completely freezes, sending supplies up by ocean still makes more sense than by land."

The captain grunted, then moved off bellowing orders to his crew. Theon remained at the gun walls, staring south now. I wonder how Ranma and the others are getting on down south? Half as well as I did I hope.

The Three Sisters had fallen relatively quickly, though the smallfolk living on them were still a surly lot. Each so-called Lord of the Sisters had tried to fight the invaders alone, and even knowing the waters around the small islands better than the men from White Harbor, their ships had proven completely ineffective against the larger war galleys.

The seas themselves had proven a more formidable obstacle then the small trading boats of the defenders, and several ships had to turn back with damage below decks from running across hidden shoals. One ship had been sunk, but it's men and had been rescued by the others quickly enough that only five of them had died from the freezing waters.

Once they had secured a beachhead on each of the Sisters however, the battles were pretty much over. Wylis and the men of Manderly and Flint were simply better trained, better led and equipped then the Islanders. They lost men in the initial landings on each island, but after they had taken control of the docks, actually besieging the small holdfasts that the rulers of the islands called keeps had been relatively easy. Especially since two of them had been within range of scorpions on a few of the war galleys.

Those so-called Lords were dead now, along with most of the men that had tried to fight back. 80 of the locals have been sent to the work gangs for attempting to attack the invaders, including six women who had attempted to poison some of the men. Theon had heard about that, though he had not been a part of the landing forces. Instead he had commanded the naval side of things, and acquitted himself very well. Another 25 men had been sent to the wall after the last of the Three Sisters had fallen, including six man of house Manderly, guilty of crimes during the sack of the final holdfast.

Wylis and Theon both were very well aware of Ranma's policy towards rapists and murderers, and if they had actually gone through with the rape that they had attempted, all six of them would've been executed by Wylis. Older than the Wolfsworn and rather portly, there was nothing soft about Wylis when it came to making certain that his men acted honorably.

Theon smiled remembering those islands, which would be his soon enough. Word from Winterfell had come through, and Eddard, in his son's name, had formally recognized that Theon would be given lordship over two of the Isles rather than Skane in the Bay of Seals further north. That was a major boost, and Theon could already see that in the future his family, once he got around to actually starting one, would become very wealthy and powerful.

Not because the Three Sisters themselves were any real prizes. There was enough land on the three to put under plow and feed the inhabitants, but no secret mines or anything of that nature. No, the resources of the Three Sisters were in their harbors. Those harbors were small, only able to handle one or at best two full-sized war galleys, but there were nine of them spread out over the islands. Workers from White Harbor were already in the process of enlarging the first few of them, and once that was done all three of the Sisters would become an extremely dangerous naval base.

With those, and the growing port that the locals had begun to call Cranogtown the Bite was not only secure from any kind of sea-based invasion but also the sight of a growing economy thanks in no small part to Lord Manderly and his canny use of the large coffers that his family had built up. Indeed, it was actually bustling a little when Theon sailed north.

And as Lord of Three Sisters, I'll turn a tidy profit on any shipping that comes through. Now if only I could figure out what I want the last name of my house to be? With all the news we've hear, I agree with Lord Eddard that I can't remain a Greyjoy.

That thought was a grim one. He had long ago abandoned the idea that the Ironborn way of life was anything more than what Ranma had set it was, a very thin reason to allow rapine and pillaging. But to hear of the aborted invasion of the North, one without any provocation at all, that was hard. Which didn't even consider the bits and pieces of what had happened further south which had reached White Harbor.

"Still can't believe that we're going to that accursed island." Said a voice close by, causing Theon to break out of his musings. "They say those barbarians are all cannibals! And that they worship not the old gods but something else, something darker."

Theon turned, moving over to where a few of the armsmen, all House Locke men, were talking. All of them were working with their armor or weapons, redoing the leather on their hilts, or making certain that their armor fit properly, while one of them was working on restringing a bow rather inexpertly.

"Give me that!"Theon scoffed, reaching over the man's shoulder and pulling the string and bow away from down on a barrel he looked at the man who had been talking. "Do you have anything solid about Skagos to share, or is it all rumor?"

"No my Lord, but well, everyone knows! Animals that have never been seen in the North since the Age of Heroes still reside on that island, the men there're all cannibals, and they file their teeth to points. Like sharks!"

Another man spoke up hesitantly. "I wouldn't mind going hunting there. I hear that unicorns and other beasts, including aurochs and snow tigers still exist on Skagos."

"snow tigers?" asked Theon.

"Like tigers in appearance my lord only larger, with bone armor in places and huge, massive fangs. They are also supposed to be intelligent, like direwolves."

"Sounds like old wives tales to me." Theon scoffed, already finishing up with the bow he pulled at it, frowning a little then shrugged before handing it over to the man. "Try that."

The man did, and barely was able to pull back the string an inch. "Whoops." Theon smirked, sardonically, taking it back from him and loosening the string somewhat so that the pull was far less. "Sometimes forget my own strength."

Then he looked around at the men. "Rumors are one thing, will be seeing truth soon enough. Unless the Skagosi have somehow tamed those legendary beasts of yours they don't matter. Besides, I've met a few so-called legendary animals, and they're flesh and blood. So if it bleeds we can kill it boys."

That won him some laughter, though he noticed that a few of the men still looked nervous, and Theon sighed. Skagos was the island they were sailing towards, not Skane, because several of the raiders had been followed back to the larger island rather than its much smaller neighbor. Whatever the legends about it, the men there had struck out against the rest of the North, and would pay for it. Food and supplies were far too precious to those on the Wall for any other response to be considered.

"As for the men themselves on that island," he said now in a far more lighthearted tone. "Unless they have weapons that can cut through steel chain mail or shields, or tactics that can make our superior weapons useless, there's nothing to fear. Trust in yourself, trust in your weapons, and trust in your commanders, and those Islanders won't know what hit them."

The journey continued for several days, going slower and slower as more and more ice was seen floating in the oceans. Eventually however one of the lookouts shouted, "Land Ho!"

Theon and the captain along with several other men moved forward, staring at the island in the distance. They were coming at it from the southwest, and it began to grow quickly as they made towards it. Eventually it loomed in front of them from horizon to horizon a mountainous island with green and white showing interspersed everywhere, and they began to sail around the southern edge of had to search for a landing spot.

They found one, a decent bit of beach with the forest that seemed to dominate the entire island just out of bow range inland from the edge of the shore. It also didn't seem to have any hidden rocks or shoals. It was extremely shallow as well, but they had brought along enough rowboats to put the men ashore, if slowly. Indeed it looked as if it already been used as such, with several trees hacked down by the shoreline and marks in the sand as if longboats had been pulled through at those points.

The war galleys anchored offshore turning in such a way that they could bring their scorpions to bear on the shoreline. While scorpions were not meant to be used against infantry they could possibly be deadly at breaking up a charge. The archers, about 400 men all told, also lined the sides of the galleys facing into the shoreline, their bows at the ready. Theon was the only one not with them, he was in the first boat ready to go ashore.

The first two boats landed easily enough, and the men began to spread out along the beach while behind them their fellows continued to disembark. However that process was interrupted by a shout from the edge of the forest. Hundreds of men suddenly appeared there, charging forward. They spoke in the old tongue, shouting imprecations but mainly along the themes of "This is our land!" "Death to the cowards!""Death to those who bowed ta the Andals!"

Upon even an initial glance these men had more in common with the wildlings then the Northerners. Their weapons tended to be large hatchets, broadswords and a few greatswords here and there. Most of them were of bronze, with only one weapon of iron that Theon could see. What armor they wore, and it wasn't very prevalent among them, was mainly bronze, with some bone and boiled leather here and there.

Mainly however they seemed to go bare-chested, even here in the cold. Whirls of blood red and yellow adorned them here and there signifying Theon didn't know what. All of them bore scars, and Theon would later realize that every man there was marked in particular by a scar running from one ear down to their mouths on the left side of their face.

There were a few bows among them, and those archers began to fire on the men already on the shoreline. But two of them fell as Theon fired back quickly, his hands moving rapidly. "Form shield wall! Get the next two boats ashore!"

His next arrow took the man who wielded an iron sword through the throat with such ferocity that the arrow actually punched all the way through his throat so that only feathers on the end were visible, hurling the man backwards with the force imparted by the arrow. His body crashed into two men behind them, and all three went down in a jumble.

Theon didn't care having moved onto the next targets. Behind him the next boat beached itself and the men on it hastily jumped out into the shallows forming up with their fellows.

Behind them the war galleys and the archers began to fire. The scorpions slammed into the ground along the tree line, startling a dozen more men from charging forward, slaying several of them while the archers took the initial force under fire.

But by that point the fastest of the men from the trees had hit the shield wall. And despite being bronze, their weapons could still kill you just as well as steel. Here and there men began to go down, and the melee became general.

Theon dropped his bow into the shallows, pulling out his dirk and a small shield from his back, using it to block a blow from a heavy axe which astonished the man wielding it. That astonishment didn't last long, because Theon's blade took the man in the eye, carving through it and into the brain behind it before a kick sent the body sprawling away. Then he whirled around, bringing his dirk down to hack at a man's thigh on his other side, his shield, it's edge sharpened, slicing into the man's throat at the same time.

A second later Theon was forced to block several blows at once, redirecting them with dirk and shield rather than trying to block them, lashing out as he could and killing several more men. With their bodies waste or knee-deep in the waters most of his men couldn't move as freely as he could, but then again once the attackers got to grips with them neither could they. Worse for both sides if someone went down with an injury, they had to get themselves back out of the water because none of their fellows had any time to spare to pull them upright again, so they faced drowning quickly.

The battle teetered in the balance for a moment, then the next group of ships arrived, beaching themselves on either side of the melee. There men, all Flint men jumped out and charged, joining the melee. They began to forge up from the shoreline, forcing their way out of the water to where they could move more freely over the hacked bodies of their friends and attackers both. More and more of the attackers turned to flee, only to be hacked down from behind.

Theon's blade took a man in the stomach, ducking him easily while Theon mentally shook his head at the idea of going into any battle without armor if you could help it. He then hurled his battered buckler into another man's face, sending him flying backwards with a broken jaw and nose. A stomp lashed out, crushing a man's neck where he was feebly trying to haul himself out of the water below Theon.

That cleared the area around Theon, and he stood back for a moment, surveying the battle before barking out orders. "Form shield wall halfway towards the forest! Get those boats back out there bringing more men in!"

The difference in the armor of the two sides had proved telling. Theon and his men only lost a little above 200, and most of them had drowned having fallen into the water along the shore and been unable to lift themselves back out of it. The attackers had lost upwards of 600 men, though that was just a guess, since most of their bodies had been pulled away out to sea by the current.

Theon called his four commanders together, a man from House Flint named Calis, Terrell Locke, a cousin of that family, and Sigmund, an armsmen from House Karstark. "We just won a major victory. I was always worried about our initial landing."

"If they had brought more men to the party we'd been in trouble." said Sigmund, nodding his head.

"Do you think those were the same raiders that have been attacking our shipping? If I remember my history, there were several 'clans' on Skagos, not just one."

"No idea, but we're supposed to secure a beachhead here so let's start building a fort, that might force the locals to come out and talk to us. If they keep on attacking us, we'll keep on killing them but I hope they'll see reason quickly."

"If we kill enough of them maybe." Said Calis, having knelt down to turn one of the dead bodies over and opening its mouth. After a moment Calis smiled. "At least the bit about them sharpening their teeth ain't true. Still have to wonder 'bout the animals though. I wouldn't mind me a unicorn horn to take home to the missus."

That elicited some ribald comments from the other men around him, but Theon had already turned away staring into the Woodlands. Now that he was coming down from the rush of combat, he was becoming, becoming bothered about something. This island, it was giving him the shivers, though he couldn't pinpoint why.

He still couldn't a few days later, after the men had finished making a makeshift fort out of cut logs from the forest a bare day's march in from the shore. Not once had they seen any of the locals, save a few skirmishers who tried to ambush his men. And none of the wild animals that supposedly made this place their home.

Standing on top of one of the long houses, he stared out over the forest all around them, scowling angrily. "If they aren't going to come to us, we'll have to go in search of them. We'll leave a force of 400 here, mixed swordsman and archers, while the rest of us march further inland. And I'm damn glad I didn't bring along any cavalry."

Calis nodded somewhat chagrined. It had been his suggestion to bring along cavalry, despite the fact that it would cut down on the number of men they could take since horses needed more fodder and space aboard a ship then men. Thankfully he'd been overruled. "The forest is too dense, we couldn't get a formed force of cavalry through it for all the gold in the Rock. And it's too steep and too rocky in most places too."

"None of our scouts have reported any sign of anything like a farm yet, so it's possible they live just on hunting, which means we can't find any real target." said Sigmund. "But I think we missed a problem when we were planning this. This island is actually larger than any other island around Westeros. That, with and the denseness of the forest and the nature of the land, we could be here for weeks!"

"Doesn't matter." Theon replied, shaking his head. "We've got a job to do, and we're going to do it, no matter how long it takes."

"And if they're not willing to talk?"

"Then we kill them all." Theon replied grimly. "If we wipe out all of their warriors, I assume the survivors will get the hint."

"Tall order if this place has as many men as a Noble House can call upon." Terrell said, shaking his head. "But you're right."

With that the small meeting broke up, but Theon remained there staring out into the distance. All around them the sloped of the land led up to large mountain in the distance, and he wondered really how many people were on this island. Still, if I need them I can call up more men from Flint and Locke, even Manderly if I have to.

Turning away he made towards the latter leading down the side of the long house, smiling faintly as he smelled dinner. He never saw the points of blue light staring at him out of the dark of the forest.

OOOOOOO

It had taken a messenger from the new Baratheon-Tyrell army around King's Landing almost 2 and 1/2 weeks to make the journey to Highgarden. It was a perilous journey, both because of the weather and because of various bandit groups that had sprung up here and there, taking advantage of how many lords and their men had gone to war. Though in all honesty they were bandits in name only, since most of them were levy deserters from the Reach army.

Worse they ran into problems with their horses, and only being knights rather than lords could not demand remounts from the castles and keeps they stopped at on the way south. Even the army under Lord Bryce Caron had no supplies or horses to lend them. How much of this was real and how much Lord Bryce's own thoughts on the arrangement Mace had reached, none of the men Mace had sent to deliver his message could say.

So by the time the knight turned errand-boy and his guards had reached Highgarden, their numbers had fallen from 15 to 5, including the knight. He was named Brodrick Westbrook and while he was relieved to finally arrive, he was more hopeful that he could stay a few days in Highgarden before turning around, not at all eager to hit the road once more.

The mere sight of mud was enough to drive Brodrick to distraction by the time he had handed the reins of his horse to the grooms. Unfortunately, it was only the start of his problems. Kneeling before the Lady Margaery, he quailed at the expression on her face. It wasn't anger, it wasn't even rage. It was sheer frothing fury.

Indeed, it took all of Margaery' considerable self-control not to loose her tongue on Brodrick. It would've been impolite, not to mention useless while she read the missive from her father.

'Daughter, you know that I was angered by you and your grandmother's connivance to halt your immediate marriage Renly, but it seems as if you were correct to be wary of tying us irrevocably to him. Not only did he not possess Robert's spine, he didn't possess his military acumen either. The young fool led us into a disastrous battle against Stannis, one that has cost us ruinously. Indeed, I myself had to take part in the battle, and while I dealt with my portion of it exceedingly well punishing a band of traitors amongst our lords, the main battle was lost.

But fear not, for I have brokered a deal with Stannis that will still tie our family into the royal house! Selyse Florent is barren! Because of this King Stannis has agreed to set her aside in favor of your hand and our allegiance to his cause. I know he is older than Renly, at least there is proof that he will be able to do his husbandly duty. Whereas there have been rumors all along about Renly that I should've taken more seriously. Nonetheless, You will still be Queen of all Westeros my dear!

As such, I require you, and a band of guards of course, to present yourself to Stannis as soon as possible. Given the state of even the Rose Road, I know it won't be easy, but the profit will be well worth it.

I hope that Garlan has already begun to take the Ironborn to task for their idiocy, and that the lords we allowed to go on their way will do their proper job under Lord Bryce once they arrive to retake the lands along the Mander. Still if not, Garlan will be able to see to that after he has retaken the Shield Islands behind them. I have also heard that Willas is leading a force into the Westerlands, that is excellent news! The time of the Lannisters has passed, it is the time for House Tyrell to rise!

Yours Affectionately, Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, Defender of the Marches, Warden of the South, High Marshall of The Reach.'

She crumbled the note, making an effort of will that astonished her to not throw it at the man in front of her. That fool. That idiotic, arrogant, crown-besotted moron! Yes, Stannis can set aside his wife if she is proven barren, the precedent is there but this, so quickly exchanging one Baratheon for another! Using me as a pawn that blatantly, and to the one that the smallfolk are already calling the Stannis the Burner!

Actually most of the smallfolk seemed to call Stannis the Flame Fucker, but Margaery wasn't supposed to have heard that particular appellation. Needless to say, rumors of King's Landing reached here long before this message did. Does he think that the smallfolk and the Lords will simply forget, or understand that Stannis had no choice?

Intellectually that might be true, but emotionally? The Lords might be willing to understand that he had no choice but to burn out the capital if he wanted to be able to use his army as a mobile force. But the smallfolk? They'll only see the fact that he just burned the largest city in Westeros to save himself some time and effort.

"My lady?" Said one of the maids, hesitantly moving forward to touch her shoulder. Margaery smiled at the woman, then waved her hands at the Brodrick. "I will have an appropriate response for this soon enough ser. For now, one of the servants will show you too your room."

After the man left she looked at the maid who had touched her shoulder, speaking in a controlled yet pleasant tone. "Could you please go find my grandmother, and show her this?" She held out the ball up of parchment, her tone turning sardonic. "It should still be legible, or as legible as it ever was."

The maid nodded, and later that evening Margaery met with her grandmother. Olenna's mind had recovered from her heart attack after hearing of the assault on the Arbor, though her body had not. She could barely walk unaided now, and her fingers lacked what little strength they had before her heart attack.

Her tongue alas had recovered just as much as her mind had. "Stupid idiotic incompetent, why did we let the buffoon out without a minder!? The perfect time to back off and declare our open neutrality, where we could see to our own affairs then bow to whoever won out, and what does he do? Hitches us right back to a stag hell bent on dragging us into yet another war!"

"That was your decision and his, not mine." Margaery retorted coldly. She had not come back to Highgarden to put herself under her grandmother thumb once more and had worked since arriving back here to retain her independence while also putting the city on a winter and wartime footing. The men who had come back from Oldflowers and her standing among the smallfolk had allowed her to act as she saw fit here in Highgarden, despite Garth, the castle's seneschal, still being more of a follower of her father and Olenna than Margaery. Yet she knew she needed her grandmother, whose spy network was relatively extensive.

"Yes, yes, let loose your spleen on the defenseless old woman. Once you've done that to your satisfaction granddaughter, perhaps we could speak about what are we going to do about this message of my idiot son's?" the old woman replied tartly.

Margaery smiled thinly. "It isn't what we're going to do it's what I've already done. You might have forgotten the fact that I was friends with Ranma Stark, but I did not. Despite his marriage to the Dragon Queen, Ranma will never forget his friends. And I think that all of Westeros could do a lot worse than having Ranma Stark as king. The rumors from the smallfolk about the Daenerys Stormborn are promising as well."

She scowled internally. I could wish that they weren't married, but that seems to be a done deal as grandmother's spies reported months back, and such a man as Ranma will never set his wife aside regardless of reasons. And I will never be any man's second choice, no matter how magnificent he is.

"And what did you promise the Stark boy?" Olenna asked skeptically.

"Since he's crushed the Westerlands army and executed Tywin Lannister I think you can dispense with the 'boy' grandmother! And I promised House Tyrell's loyalty and resources, so long as they agreed that Willas would be the new Lord Paramount. I vowed to place myself in their hands entire, as surfeit of that loyalty."

The old woman reared back in her chair in shock. While those words changed meanings from case to case, what it meant in essence was that Margaery had placed herself completely at the mercy of the Ranma and this Daenerys Stormborn. They could decide to do anything they wanted to her, remove her from House Tyrell, take her as a maid or even as a war-whore. And even if they didn't do anything so unpleasant, they would control when and who she would marry. "How, how long ago?"

"Right after the Ironborn began to attack. I've been planning this for a while. I've also sent a message to Willas after this latest bit of provocation. If he agrees with me, we can remove our father on grounds of madness."

"That's well and good, but it won't matter. He's with the army remember? Whatever we do here, it won't matter a damn to Mace where he is. He'll still have his own power base, one that can take control of ours if it decided to see this as a rebellion."

Olenna paused before going on thoughtfully. "Then again, the power of Highgarden has never truly been with its army, but with its resources here. And if you can get the smallfolk on your side, I suppose it could work even once he returns."

"If he returns." Margaery said shaking her head.

She did not mention that she had ordered every smith in the city to start making armor, spearheads, swords, and anything else they could which would aid in the war effort. Margaery had also doubled the pay scale for men of able body and mind that came forward to receive training from the armsmen, archers and knights Garlan had sent back with her and the survivors of the battle at Oldflowers. They were five hundred good men who were already training ten times their number from men raised from the city. They wouldn't be a field force by any means for months, but they would be able to hold the walls.

But Margaery didn't mention any of that because she had no doubt Olenna already knew. But her grandmother was more concerned with familial issues than military ones. "And Alerie?" Olenna asked softly.

Margaery winced. "Mother doesn't take part in politics, and I am not exactly going to go out of my way to inform her of the message that father sent me. So long as she stays out of the way it, it will be fine. He is there, we are here. It's that simple."

"Only if he loses it will be that simple to her." Olenna replied coldly. "If they win, it becomes very confusing."

Margaery shook her head, a faint smile on her face. "I have faith in Ranma Stark. And as I said earlier, after the complete destruction of the Westerlands' military power, I think you should too."

Several days later two different ravens arrived. One was from Garlan, saying that he had arrived at Oldtown. The remnants of the Redwyne fleet had gathered there, and he was already in the process of planning the campaign to reclaim the Arbor and the Shield Islands from the Ironborn. Even better, he wrote that Lady Desmera Redwyne had escaped in a small fishing boat thanks to a fisherman who owed her family a favor.

That had nearly made Margaery break out in tears of thanks to the Maiden, knowing what horrors her cousin would have faced in Ironborn hands. Desmera was Lady Redwyne now, head of that house, and Olenna was already looking around for a proper marriage to the girl.

The other was from Riverrun. This contained a short summary of the events in the Riverlands, ending with Lord Tywin's execution and the response from Ranma and Daenerys. Margaery smiled thinly, and leaned back in her chair at the head of the family table. "And that I believe is that. With this very favorable response, I will send Ser Brodrick back with our response to my father's idiocy."

"I can't agree to this!" Said Alerie from her place nearby. She had somehow learned of Margaery's plans that morning, and was not happy for its implications. "This is your father you're talking about! While his actions of late might not be… be the most intelligent, you still owe him your loyalty as head of the household, daughter!"

"No, no I don't." Margaery replied coldly. "Where was he when the Ironborn invaded? Where was he when the Lannisters invaded from the west? Where is he now, when we are beginning to get reports from House Meadows, that the Viper of Dorne has turned his ruinous march into the Reach? My father has failed as Lord Paramount on practically every level mother! I cannot, we as House Tyrell cannot afford to continue to follow him into madness upon madness."

"Moreover, this is a most admirable document on a political level, both what is said and what is implied." Olenna put in thoughtfully, tapping the message. "The Stark youth and Daenerys are already acting as King and Queen already, something Stannis has not done yet, nor Viserys, if my agent's reports about his return are accurate. They're acting as if it is a certainty that they will win the war, and are laying the framework for what happens after. Excellent. I truly did underestimate Stark daughter, and I formally apologize to you for ending your engagement to the boy, to Ranma. If this is how he acts with the Dragon Queen beside him, I would have loved to see how he would act with you beside him."

"I would have too." Margaery replied tartly. "And don't think I'm going to forget that you and father agreed with that bit of idiocy anytime soon."

"But even so…" Alerie began, looking between them.

"Mother." Margaery said interrupting the older woman and reaching across take her hands flinching slightly when the older woman pulled back sharply. "I know you love father, but you can't let that love blind you to the mistakes he's made. Willas will make a far better Lord Paramount then father ever was and, when this is all over and dealt with, father can remain here in comfort."

If he survives which is doubtful, she thought, far more coldly than her words. It shocked her to the core to realize that she wouldn't miss the man overmuch. As a daughter he hadn't really had much in rearing Margaery other than doting on her occasionally. And as she grew older and more independent, Margaery felt Mace had stifled her, never listening to her as well as he did Olenna unless the two agreed, and even then not often.

"No," Margaery said aloud. "We need to start thinking about the future now."

OOOOOOO

Others too were thinking about the future. Doing something about it however was a little more difficult.

"What do you mean she won't meet with us? Her turning away our messengers away is one thing, but here we, the lords of the Vale, her husband's primary vassals, are personally come to speak to her. What does that bitch think she's playing at?!" Lord Redfort of the castle of the same name glared at the messenger from the Eyrie.

He wasn't the only one. Many of the Lords of the Vale were in the tent, and practically every one of them was staring at the man. It was not a comfortable experience for the young man bearing the bad news.

The messenger was Alber Royce, son of Lord Nestor Royce of the Gates of the Moon, the castle set at the entrance to the Giant's Lance, the mountain that held the Eyrie. The army in question was currently camped just out of bow range of the castle's defenders.

He was also a distant relation of Lord Royce, who was in fact the only Lord not staring at him at the moment. Yohn Royce was looking down at his hands, his face thoughtful. He was also not wearing his armor for some reason, which was unusual enough to have normally caused comment, and would have if Yohn hadn't arrived on the heels of the messenger that was the source of the current issue.

"P-Permission to speak freely my lords?"Albar asked hesitantly. When Lord Redfort, acting as their speaker nodded he went on. "Lady Lysa refuses to come out of her rooms in the Eyrie. Only a scant handful of her servants are allowed in her presence. She, my lords, Lysa is mad! She is gripped by some kind of, of paranoid delusion that anyone and everyone is plotting against her and her son! She refuses to let the boy out of her sight, and is coddling Robert even more than she had before."

There were some growls of disgust at that and several of the Lords actually spat to one side in contempt. The knowledge that the boy was dimwitted, frail and still being weaned on mother's milk had spread far and wide. Indeed, more than one man there wondered truly if the boy really was John Arryn's son, whatever the age of the father had been upon his conception.

"Does she say anything about the events mentioned in our messages to her?" asked Lord Templeton. "There are great events happening elsewhere, a war for the throne, and here the Vale sits, stewing in our own juices!"

Albar gulped again. This part was not going to go over well, he knew it. "Could I have your words of honor that you won't kill the messenger my lords?" He said only half-jokingly.

That actually won him some chuckles, but it also aroused Lord Royce out of his introspection and he smiled faintly at his distant kinsman. "Speak plainly Albar. None of us will harm you for what you say."

"The lady Lysa keeps on insisting that the Lannisters were at fault for Lord Arryn's death, that they are still sending spies and murderers after her and her boy. Yet at the same time, she also says that Petyr, Littlefinger I mean, should've been in communication with her for months now! When she was told about the rumors of a siege cutting off King's Landing, she seemed lost, and became even more paranoid if that was possible. Now she is simply waiting for word of Petyr surviving before she does anything. She won't move from the Eyrie until he does arrive nor will she give any orders until he is here for her to, to consult with."

For a moment the Lords were silent simply staring at the young man. Then Lord Tollett spoke as if biting off each word. "Are you telling me that a minor Lord is going to be in position to order us around? Stranger's hells, House Baelish doesn't even have more than what, 40 men to its name! Hell's its not even three generations old yet! And judging by the rumors over the past half a year, Petyr has not exactly covered himself in glory!"

Lord Belmore was a younger man wide of shoulders and unfortunately wide of mouth as well. "You know whenever I saw them together I thought that Petyr and Lysa were close and he did ward at Riverrun when she was younger. You don't think…"

"Enough!" Said Lord Redfort cutting the man off with a chop of the hand. "We'll leave that kind of tale-telling to maids. We have more important things to mind at the moment. What you're saying, is that not only will she not meet with this, she plans to simply sit up there and do nothing. I don't know about the rest of you my lords, but that is not enough!"

"Leave us Albar." Said Lord Royce, nodding his head at in Redfort's direction. The two of them were the nominal leaders of this delegation, which consisted of a little under half of the houses of Vale. The other half were content to sit and remain neutral for now, not having any clear idea of the true events that had started this present war. Or rather, Yohn thought to himself as Albar left, not seeing any profit in them choosing a side at this point. It is a sad thing, but gold and profit matter more to many lords then honor and duty. Still so long as they do not oppose us openly, that is enough for me.

"Frankly my lords, so long as Lysa stays up there, the amount of damage she can do is minimal. I'm not happy with leaving the Eyrie and the Giant's Lance under her command, but judging by Albar's tone it sounds as if Lysa will turn her own men against her soon enough."

"What about your kinsman, Nestor?" Asked Lord Templeton.

"He stands with us." Yohn replied, nodding his head. He had been estranged a bit from his kinsman for several years now, but recently the two of them had opened dialog again. Yohn wasn't going to say it aloud, but something down King's Landing, either the latest rumor of the plague and the siege or something before it had changed Nestor's attitude.

Redfort gestured all the Lords back into their seats, which most of them had left jumping to their feet angrily when Albar had reported that lady Lysa would not see them. "Some wine my fellow lords, I think we need cool heads for this."

Yohn nodded, smiling at his ally and sitting down. "With Lysa drowning in her own madness, and no clear line of succession, it behooves us my lords to consider how we should act. Not only for the good of our Houses but the Vale as a whole."

"You're talking about the other messenger the one that the Stark youth sent to us yes?" Said Lord Tollett. "That man's journey must've been harrowing, especially with the mountain clans acting up at this point."

Yohn nodded, his eyes for a moment turning towards the North. I wonder how the others will react to my own bit of news?

"A large stain on the Vale's honor it might have been, but I myself cannot say I was unhappy to hear that the North annexed the Three Sisters. Lord Manderly is a shrewd fellow, and I have no doubt that the day of those be-cursed islands being used as bases for smuggling and piracy is over." Said Lord Pryor. "My House and House Elesham have been stung by them more than often enough. But neither of us have ever had a powerful navy to do anything about it."

"Some reparation will no doubt be made towards the Vale for that. Most of you met Eddard Stark during Robert's Rebellion my lords or before when he warded here in the Eyrie with Robert under Lord Arryn. Can any of you say that such a move was done capriciously, or with malice aforethought?" Asked Lord Templeton looking around the camp table shrewdly.

None of them could. Frankly most of them had already made up their minds about that and further what must've happened in the capital. The Lannisters had never been really favored in the Vale, save perhaps in Gulltown where their gold spoke the loudest. But nor were they willing to follow the Starks against House Baratheon, either of them.

As they were away with their armies, and lady Lysa was not sharing anything she received by raven, none of the Lords here knew about more recent events. This included the now utter defeat of the Lannisters in the Riverlands, the destruction of King's Landing, or Renly's death. The only one they had a hint of was the Lannister's defeat, which had begun to spread through the Bloody Gate by way of the Vale Road after the battle at the Ruby Ford.

"We will see about the language of this message that the so-called Dragon Queen and Young Wolf have sent us." said Lord Redfort, voicing most of their thoughts allowed.

Ser Breakstone was a knight of that House sworn to the service of House Ryger, and of an age with Tristan and Vincent. At Lord Ryger's suggestion he had been chosen by Ranma and Daenerys to lead the twelve men detachment that they had sent from Harroway to Gulltown and then from there to Runestone. Upon his arrival there Ser Breakstone had been told that Lord Royce was not in residence, and so had continued his journey until finding the army gathered outside the Gates of the Moon.

He was bedraggled, worn, and stained with the mud of several week's hard travel. But Breakstones' eyes were sharp, and the message that he handed over to Lord Royce was pristine in its carrying case.

Yohn nodded at the youngster then tore off the seal, staring at it thoughtfully for a moment with a faint smile on his face before handing it over to Lord Redfort who grunted as he looked at the image on it, smiling a bit at the artistry of it. Reading the message took Lord Royce only a few moments, and he handed it off quickly. "They are offering to compensate for the loss of the Three Sisters by three Crown remits to be used on three towns, to allow them to grow into cities. An interesting idea, and more than enough compensation."

Redfort grunted again, before handing the message on. "I note that it doesn't say anything about demanding that we raise our armies and march for them, or that we even simply stay neutral. It mentions Lysa by name and declares her unfit to rule of course, but what particularly interests me is that bit about deciding upon the future leadership of the Vale 'when time allows'."

"Yes that is interesting isn't it?" said Royce musingly while the message was passed around his fellow lords.

"You are both overlooking the evidence that they share about Joffrey's illegitimacy." said Lord Templeton staring at the other two thoughtfully. "To my mind that is the most important bit about this message."

The message from Daenerys and Ranma laid out their position in terms of the crown, Joffrey's illegitimacy and their reasons for enmity with Stannis and Renly. Renly running away from the capital was mentioned, which both Ranma and Daenerys had seen as a betrayal of both Renly's loyalty to his brother, and to the friendship of his family to the Starks. Stannis's attack on the ship was mentioned as well, though not the method of that attack.

They also detailed their plans to destroy the Westerlands army which added at that point had not been accomplished just yet. Simply mentioning the battle at the Ruby Ford wouldn't have been enough giving Tywin's reputation going into this war, so neither of them had mentioned it.

Then there was the message about the annexation of the Three Sisters and the reasoning behind it followed by what amounted to an offer of payment, one which all of the Lords there were eager to use in the future. The Vale had few towns, but many of them were in excellent positions to become cities if allowed to be so. Along the coast of the Vale, that growth would fueled by trade with Essos and with the rest of Westeros by sea or river.

There were no demands, no call to arms, not yet. But the hint was there that such things would be coming, with the phrase for 'future military actions should such be required'. In many ways it was an understatedly arrogant message. It said subtly that the Vale so long as it remained neutral really didn't matter to their plans. That victory was almost assured whatever the Vale did.

Redfort and Royce both let the other Lords question Ser Breakstone closely about the events he'd personally seen, about what he had heard, about the state of the army that Ranma Stark was leading. They had heard of the fall of the Twins, but not that it occurred so easily, or by using the old Frey bastard's attitude against him. There was more than one Lord chuckling at that, saying the man had been hoisted on his own banner. The battle of the Ruby Ford was also mentioned, the total victory it had been, along with the portion of the campaign leading up to it, as well as the news that Stone Hedge and Wayfarer's Rest both fallen to Stark forces.

But that was the military side of things. The other side of things interested the Lords just as much. The obvious friendship between Myrcella Baratheon and Ranma along with Daenerys was particularly mentioned, as was Myrcella's command of the hospitals, though where that would odd name came from none of them understood. That she had kept the Army from being plagued by disease and contagion was also marked upon, and more than one messenger was sent for in order to start the organization of their own army camp along similar lines.

Yet even more than all that, the fact that Daenerys was in such control of her dragons was astonishing to anyone who had studied their lineage. The direwolves of the Starks brought some mutters, though Lord Redfort noticed that Lord Royce's eyes narrowed at that, and he stopped speaking at that point, simply watching the events around him.

After the messenger had been questioned closely about everything to do with the army and what he had personally seen however Lord Royce held up a hand. After a moment the other Lords paused in their discussion, and he stared at the messenger hard. "We have heard about their deeds, about how they acted upon this campaign, we've even heard about some of their long-term plans, all of which I find good. But tell me about the people Breakstone, what are your impressions of Ranma Stark and Daenerys Targaryen. Speak as a Valeman now lad, not as a knight sworn to House Ryger."

The young man winced a little at that, but after a moment nodded. "My lords, not since the Age of Heroes has there been a group such as this. Ranma Stark might only be a bare twenty, but he is the finest military commander I have seen or even read about, even comparing him to King Robert! The Stormborn, Daenerys Stormborn might lack military knowledge, but in the realm of politics I have never seen the like. She is ruthless yet honorable, determined and just, and personally courageous. Even Princess Myrcella is becoming her own legend among the army and the smallfolk my lords as the Maiden of Healing. I am proud that the house I am sworn to has sworn itself to their service."

There was a moment of silence as all of the men looked at the youngster who had before that speech simply answered their questions calmly and matter-of-factly. But with that speech there had been real passion in his voice, and Yohn nodded internally. Such a king I could follow, such a queen I could bow to. "Leave us, you'll know our response soon enough. There should be a guard outside the tent, send him in."

The Lords were silent as the guard came in. After Yohn motioning him near, he whispered into his ear for a moment. The man then bowed and left the tent quickly.

After that man had left, Lord Templeton was the first to speak, putting all of their thoughts into words. "The dragons conquered the Vale once, they can do so again. Whatever the latest rumors from the fisher-folk say, this Daenerys has two dragons to her brother's one. That is a potent threat, even or perhaps especially to us here in the Vale."

That was the way the Vale had been conquered the first time. The Bloody Gate had turned aside an entire army, the slaughter had been magnificent. And then a single dragon had flown over the Bloody Gate to the Eyrie, landed on the top of it and demanded House Arryn's surrender. Something similar could happen again, to each of their castles in turn, none of which were in the same league as the Eyrie in terms of a defensive position.

"What do we want out of the future my lords?" asked Lord Redford. "For my part, I want a strong and united Vale, a Lord Paramount House that is powerful and numerous."

"The destruction of the mountain clans." said Ser Belmore, entirely serious.

The mountain clans of the Vale while each individually smaller than the mountain clans of the North actually had more military strength combined than those clans did. However while the northern mountain clans were firm allies of House Stark and had been for thousands of years, the mountain clans of the Vale had never bowed to House Arryn or the Mountain Kings that preceded the Vale as a united kingdom.

The mountain clans were inherently warlike, warring upon one another and the low landers as they could. And unfortunately with the Vale leadership in turmoil, they had begun to raid the lowlands heavily. The army had dealt with several such attacks on its outriders by massacring the groups while they marched into the Vale of Arryn, but all of them had felt the stings of raids in their own lands. That was why the Army they had gathered to, if need be, besiege the Eyrie numbered a bare 9000. None of them could afford to pull more men out of their own lands.

"Rather an unreasonable request, my friend." said Lord Elesham. "One I would love to see, but one which is unfortunately out of our reach."

"Perhaps." said Lord Royce thoughtfully. "But this Stark youth might have some ideas in that direction."

"You're talking about more than just remaining neutral as they have asked." said Lord Redfort leaning forward intently and staring at his old friend, his normally mild eyes sharp. "Why?"

"You'll all see the answer in a moment." Yohn replied, his tone actually tired as he leaned back in his chair rubbing at his bald pate for a moment. Not a moment later, the guard entered carrying what looked like a piece of armor covered by a cloth. "Remove the cloth and put my armor on the table."

The guard did so, and once the cloth was removed gasps of astonishment spread among the Lords. The armor in question was bronze, etched with runes. It was the armor that had given Lord Royce his nickname, Bronze Yohn. Normally the sight of it would not incur any interest, practically every Lord in the Vale had seen Lord Royce and it at one point or another.

What they had not seen before was the runes on it glowing as they were now. Normally they were simply odd letters etched into the metal, though they evidently did something since the bronze armor did work just as well as normal suit of steel plate. But now, now they were glowing with a dim yellow light, and it was certainly not the reflection of the torches in each of the corners of the tent or the light from the open tent flap.

Yohn spoke in the silence the site invoked. "Magic has come back into the world and old powers stir. I know not why the Maesters in the Citadel have ignored their age-old duty and not informed us of the black candles having been lit, but I know they have been. You know my family keeps to the Old Ways my lords. We Remember." That was his families motto, and it encompassed their attitude as much as House Stark's did its grim purpose. "We have done so since time immemorial, my family was among the First Men, and I've always been proud of that. Now that old blood is singing. When I last stood in front of my castle's weirwood tree, I sensed a call."

He stood up, staring around him with hard eyes. "A call to the North. I think it is there my lords that the new king and queen of Westeros will have need of us. Let our fellow lords stew in their neutrality, and indeed I will not raise my blade against any Baratheon, be it Renly or Stannis. But my lords I will still do my duty as a Lord of house Royce not just to my men and to my smallfolk, but to Westeros as a whole."

The Vale lords had always been more superstitious than those of the Westerlands, the Reach or elsewhere. And the old gods held sway here in more than just Lord Royce. A few lords objected, but with the proof in front of them that magic was returning, they couldn't argue. And all of them knew what threat might be coming from the North, and that it was the duty of every knight and lord to meet it.

In the end, they decided to leave about 3000 of their men here outside the gates of the Moon under Lord Belmore just in case Lysa tried to do anything, or more importantly to take over the running of the Eyrie in conjunction with Lord Nestor after Lysa had finally worn her man's patience down enough for them to do away with the woman themselves. Benedar Belmore was also an old man, older by 22 years then Lord Royce, and his body was frail liable to fail him on the march. His mind was still shrewd, and he was a veteran of the Ninepenny Kings war as well as the internal war that the Vale had fought during Robert's Rebellion.

The rest of the men, some 6000 strong would pick up another thousand or so more men from House Royce of the Gates, as they marched toward the Bloody Gate and beyond, making their way to the Kings Road to either meet up with Ranma and his army as it marched northward, or march north itself. Behind them Ser Breakstone turned around, heading back to Gulltown and the ship that would take him and his men to Harroway with glad tidings.

OOOOOOO

But Gulltown would not be the safe harbor that Ser Breakstone and his men had left. Despite many of the Vale lords wishing to remain neutral, war had come to the Vale. It came on dragon wings. It came with fire.

Ser Damon Shett was a barely middle-aged man, and marked as one of the better knights of the Vale. But he was untried in the role of leadership, and in the past few hours that had been rubbed into his face. Now he stood on the streets of Gulltown, while around him and his men fought the men of House Grafton, hacking and slashing at one another.

He ducked under a blow from a mace from one man, slamming the pommel of his longsword into the man's stomach with enough force to knock the breath out of him despite his chain mail, before a punch to the man's head flung him to the side. But Damon didn't have enough time to capitalize on his opponent going down, because another man pushed through the scrum all around them to go sword to sword with Damon. But Damon proved the stronger, pushing the other man back with a single heave onto his heels, opening his defense up enough for an overhead slash to catch them right at the juncture of the neck in the shoulder.

Damon stomped hard on the back of a downed man then had to dodge as someone wielding a spear came at him. His sword thrust took the man in the chest, but he gasped in agony as someone from behind him cut into his shoulder. With that arm now hanging loose at his side Damon backed away, taking a moment to notice that his younger brother, a boy of only 16 or so, was dead at his feet.

In the distance Damon could see Gull Tower burning, and he yelled aloud. "Damn you Grafton, damn you!" He barely had a moment to notice that all of the attackers had suddenly pulled back, as a shadow fell upon him. He looked up staring for one wide-eyed moment before a tongue of flame took him from above.

OOOOOOO

Pulling back on the reins and urging Balerion back into the sky Viserys laughed triumphantly. This, this was what it meant to be Targaryen! To fly, to have the very winds under your control, to go where you will and burn your enemies to ash! What mortal could stand against a dragon, what House could stand against his?

He flew wide allowing Balerion to torch a few of the scorpions under control of men who wore House Shett colors as they tried to tilt upwards in an attempt to attack him. There weren't many, and it seemed as if resistance in the town had broken. Good, they never should have stood against me in the first place. Still, judging by the way House Grafton attacked House Shett's troops from behind, it seems as if Littlefinger was telling the truth about being able to raise support here in the Vale. How much support however is still in question.

For a moment he banked Balerion around, staring towards the mountains that loomed in the distance, beyond which was the Eyrie. For just a second, he dreamed of following in his ancestor's footsteps, of taking his Balerion and flying from here to the Eyrie to demand its surrender. But I don't know enough about what's been going on in the Vale since I left Dorne. Is it still in stasis, each house trying to decide alone what to do or have they already chosen a side?

About an hour later while the men of the town were desperately try to put out the fires with the aid of several thousand of the Dornish army Lord Grafton wined and dined Petyr and his new King. The man was a bit of a weasel, even in comparison to Littlefinger, but he had up-to-date information about the Vale, and the events in it.

He told them that the Vale had basically sundered along into two groups. One, composed of some of the most powerful Houses, wanted to do something, though as far as Lord Grafton knew there was no real consensus of what that could be, other than removing Lysa Arryn from position of regent for the Lord Paramount. Then there those who wanted to remain neutral, made of more numerous houses, but generally speaking less powerful ones. The only thing apparently every Lord agreed on was that they were not willing to follow Lysa's orders any longer, whatever those orders were, even those who didn't want to remove her weren't willing to go to her aid.

This troubled Petyr greatly as he confided to Viserys once he and the king were back aboard ship. Petyr decided to come clean entirely, it might be the only way to appease the mad youth across from him. "Lysa Arryn was my puppet my Lord, a fool girl who believed I love her." As if she could hold a candle to dearest Catelyn, or that unsullied and so beautiful young Sansa.

For a moment Petyr fell silent thinking of the two of them, of Sansa in particular considering how happy Catelyn seemed to be too rut with wolves. I'll keep that bit of news from Riverrun to myself I think, if I have to cut and run, I might be able to steal at least something precious for myself down the road.

Then Petyr shook his head and went on. "But she apparently has gone mad in her isolation far faster than I anticipated. The mountain clans are raiding heavily, and several houses are, as Lord Grafton said, in open revolt. Even with Lysa listening to me, the amount of support I could raise for you would be limited now, and without her, that alas becomes even less. As such I'm afraid that only four or so Vale houses will side with you, your highness."

"This does not please me Littlefinger." said Viserys with a lot of understatement. "You promised me that you could raise the Vale to support my campaign to reclaim my families throne. Now you tell me that this is impossible? What is to stop me from taking Balerion to each and every single castle in the Vale and burning them to the ground!?" I ask…" he went on, his tone of voice one that Oberyn would've recognized. "Only in the spirit of inquiry, you understand."

"Time, Your Majesty." Petyr said, yet again showing a cool head in front of Viserys' threats. He took them more seriously now than he had before of course, having seen how Viserys dealt with Lady Selyse Baratheon, and his sheer enjoyment in that act and others since.

But even so, he was well used to danger. "It will take months to bring the Vale to heel in that manner, unless you mean to simply kill all of the Lords in which case it would take only a few weeks if you go alone on Balerion, and could come to ground and hunt for food for the two of you without facing a bow around every tree. You would have to come down sometime to teach my Lord and you would be vulnerable."

"I say this not to anger you Your Majesty." Petyr said holding up his hand pacifically. "Or to point out any weakness. I say this out of concern. Balerion represents much of your military might, and you should use him as you see fit. But would it be a good idea to take the time here to conquer the Vales one after another using conventional means? Even if you can use Balerion on every castle to save us time and lives. With autumn upon us, that will be a hard, torturous campaign, one that will cost us men in the field, far more men than we would gain."

"He is right My King." said Arianne from where she was lounging on a bed of pillows near the brazier. This was not for preference, but need. Her clothing was from Dorne, and the rain and cold had begun to sap her energy. "If Lysa still commanded the loyalty of at least a few Vale Houses rather than their contempt, you could simply threaten her alone and gained the Vales compliance if not loyalty, but as it is…" she shrugged.

Nymeria, the Sand Snake in charge of meeting with Doran's local spies also spoke up. "I've only had a bare few hours to meet with the local factors here, which were limited to say the least, but they have brought rumors of fell deeds elsewhere to my ears, Your Majesty. Some which demand a response."

Viserys broke off staring into Petyr's face to glare at Nymeria. "What events?"

"King's Landing has been destroyed." said Nymeria bluntly. "Not just sacked, not just taken, destroyed! Burned from one end to the other along with practically every living soul within it." That had horrified her when she had heard of it, a Martell she might be, but even she would not have gone that far for their vengeance, not simply wiped out the entire population of the largest city in Westeros like that.

Viserys stared at her then sat down abruptly, his legs giving out from under him. "How?" he asked in a hollow voice. "Who?"

"Magic my Lord, and apparently the Red Witch we heard about long before this did it at Stannis's instigation. We knew of the plague of course, but Stannis seems to have decided that there was no point in trying to save the city. It was an utterly ruthless act, and I think he is actually more hated among the smallfolk now than any king has ever been in all of Westeros' history. But it is a fearful sort of hate, none of the smallfolk will room rise against him, but neither will they aid him, I think."

That was more than Viserys had asked for, but he didn't remonstrate with the woman. He sat there staring straight ahead blankly, his mind nearly shut down with shock. King's Landing, the city his family had made, the throne, the Dragon Pits, everything that his family had created, gone. His teeth clenched, as did his hands in his lap. "Where is Stannis now?" He hissed out.

"Marching north along the Kingsroad apparently, along with the remnants of the Reach forces, which he has somehow convinced to ally with him. None of my family's agents remain in the army and the rumor of how that came to be hasn't spread among the smallfolk yet, so I don't know what he promised them. But it is known he's heading to battle your sister and her Stark husband." Nymeria replied, letting some of her contempt for House Stark into her voice.

It wasn't that she had anything against Ranma, Nymeria simply looked down on the Starks as over-honorable fools. There were other messages left with her uncles agents here in Gulltown of course, but most of those messages were not for Viserys' ears.

Arianne hadn't heard about the destruction of King's Landing, and she too was shocked at it, but she was getting over it quickly. "That act cannot go unanswered my King. We must strike at him, at Stannis. Even more than your sister, he has made himself an enemy of our house, truly following in his brother's footsteps!" She added, knowing precisely what buttons to use to goad Viserys into action. Arianne did not want to get bogged down here in the Vale with one battle after another, with her Dornish countrymen bleeding out for little return.

"As always you speak directly to the heart of the matter my dear." Said Viserys, his eyes filled with fell fires promising retribution. "What Houses can you bring to our command Petyr, and how quickly?"

"I concentrated my personal influence here in the Bay of Crabs and around my own house's lands Your Highness, which will serve us moderately well now. House Grafton has already proven its loyalty to our cause, and House Moore can be added to our forces quickly enough, their keep is overlooking a small inlet further into the Bay, about a half days journey for a single ship. I believe that the two of them could raise somewhere along 3600 men for our cause. Possibly we could raise another 4,000 from the city if we simply conscript men at sword point, though we might have problems arming them."

"Unless my memory is serving me false, your House's lands are far further north, near to the plight then to the Bay of Crabs, yes?" Viserys mused.

"Yes my Lord, and unfortunately even if we could get there in any kind of time we would be bogged down in a small campaign there. House Corbray and House Lynderly would be willing to follow any messages I send, but at present they are in a three-way war with House Coldwater and the mountain clans. Both are powerful Houses, but distance, that conflict and the lay of the land means that they are out of reach."

Viserys scratched at his chain for a moment thoughtfully. "This does not please me. 3600 men trained men will barely add a few hundred men to the total number we left Planky Town with, though your suggestion with a conscript force has some merit…"

"Indeed my love but consider. These are Vale lords, their men will be a full infantry, like the swordsman who broke the pikes my family sent against the Usurper in his unjust war against your house. In many ways they might serve us better than our own infantry forces, which are made for the most part for quick skirmishes. For certain they will be better armored than most or ours."

The pikemen of Dorne were not like the pike regiments Ranma and Jon had devised. They were individual infantry given pikes, trained in their usage as warriors rather than soldiers, their lines and movements nowhere near as sharp or dense. Nor was their armor anything special. Indeed, it was common for most of them to wear simple boiled leather armor much like most archers, which amounted to nothing at all against swords or other cutting weapons and barely protected against arrows.

"And, because they are not of our nation, we have no requirements to try to husband their strength now do we?" She smiled a little as she knew that would please her husband.

"Once again you make an excellent point my dear, and as there is this too. Maidenpool and House Mooton will follow the rightful king. We will be able to land our troops there easily, and then march to where Stannis and my dear sister will no doubt soon be battling one another. I wonder if her little dog has another miracle campaign, I'd like it if they at least weaken Stannis for the kill."

"Possibly not so soon my Lord." said the last Sand Snake, Elia, who'd remained silent up to this point. "Armies travel far slower on land than at sea, especially those with heavy horse, despite what many might think. Foraging can only go so far, his supply train will be slow, and he'll have to stay close to it. I doubt that Stannis is even halfway up the Kingsroad. If your sister doesn't march out to meet him, we have possibly three possibly four more weeks before they start to clash in earnest."

"It will take a bare five days to get here from Maidenpool by sea. It would take far less in a straight line, but the waters in the Bay of Crabs are treacherous, and we'll have to take it slowly, unless we can find enough locals we can trust to lead us right, which is doubtful." Said Petyr, piling on while the piling on was good. "But once we land, we will be attacking them from a direction they will not be expected. Neither Stannis nor the Starks have any kind of spy network, though possibly in the Riverlands, the Starks could use House Tully's rather mediocre network. We could possibly take them entirely by surprise."

"Very well." Said Viserys standing up and his smile became vicious again. "Petyr, you will liaise with Lord Grafton, I want his men to aid my own in conscripting at least 4,000 levy troops from the city. I'll also order two ships to head to House Moore with a letter from you Petyr, to get that house ready. I want us ready to leave in two days for Maidenpool. For now however, I believe our guest needs to pay for her father's perfidy!"

"Not all my king." said Arianne, standing up quickly as did the two Sand Snakes. Since they left Dragonstone the three of them had made certain that Shireen was out of sight of Viserys, and therefore out of mind. It was nothing personal the girl was pleasant enough but rather ugly and unrefined to them. But Shireen was a powerful political tool, one that had to be protected.

Something that Arianne was quick to point out now. "Once you slay her father, the lady Shireen becomes heir to House Baratheon. Storm's End, despite not ruling over a land known for its riches, has always been the House of the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. With her under our thumb and her father dead, we will be able to make whatever deal we need with her, before placing her as a puppet there, which may aid in settling the Stormlands down after their defeat at our hands. We don't want to have to put down another rebellion a few years down the line after all."

Viserys glared at her angrily but after a moment nodded jerkily. "Yet again you raise a good point my love. However I need to do something to get this anger out of me. I will go flying on Balerion, but I was serious. Be ready to depart in two days, along with those levy forces. We will sail to join the two ships already sent to House Moore, then for Maidenpool. For vengeance, for justice, and for my throne!"

OOOOOOO

The castle of House Clegane was a small one, but extremely well-made, with very high and thick walls. In point of fact as Willas looked at it he knew that the land of House Clegane could never have paid for such a magnificent castle. I wonder how much gold the Lannisters sunk into this place. He smirked a little as his army moved forward. I wonder how much will still be here. I think my troops deserve some remuneration.

All around him the majority of his command marched forward, shouting and clamoring, but moving somewhat slower than they could have considering that all of his light cavalry was missing. All war is deception, one way or another. Willas knew that too much time had passed since the destruction of the marauders sent into the Reach. House Clegane had no doubt been warned by smallfolk if not their own scouts when he crossed the borders and so would be ready for him. Willas had no wish to be bogged down here in a common siege, so he had to use subterfuge.

Beside him Ser Graceford was grumbling irritably as he walked his horse beside Willas. He and Toulev had become Willas' main commanders. There was an actually brain underneath that knightly armor, once certain noble ideals had been smacked out of it anyway. In some ways however Ser Graceford had not changed and one of those ways was in his desire to rush ahead and get to grips with the enemy. "If we had been able to get here fast enough, we could've gone with our first idea."

That had been to dress up some of the men in House Clegane colors and send them ahead with a few volunteers among the smallfolk women to add to the disguise. Willas had not been in favor of it, considering that it would no doubt be people among the servants of the castle that knew most of the men who had gone off, and the reputation of House Clegane's castle was such that he had no wish to be a part of sending women into it. Still, it might've worked to open the gates for them.

"There was nothing we could do about it, the distances involved for just a little too great for that even if we used river travel."

"Are you worried about what's going on down south?" Ser Graceford asked quietly, making certain the men could not overhear. "I know I am. My family's castle might be better positioned than most, but it's still vulnerable from the river."

House Graceford's land was slightly past the fork in the Mander along what became the River Ash. It was small, as befitted a knightly house, but it was well maintained and had a moat along three-quarters of its walls while the fourth abutted the river itself. It wasn't unassailable, but it was a good defensive position.

"Judging by the latest rumors about my sister, I don't think your family has much to worry about. The Houses beyond Oldflowers along the Mander however will have. The Ironborn will have much to answer for after this war. But we personally can only deal with the problems in front of us."

"Is that why you decided to only destroy House Clegane and House Swyft?"

"Yes, I want to finish this campaign and head home as soon as possible. Unless I miss my guess Swyft will be the tougher fight, I doubt Ser Swyft will have taken entire leave of his senses, he'll have left a somewhat strong force behind. But that's also why I sent Toulev and a force of the infantry ahead on the remounts." Toulev and Willas himself were the only two men among his army that knew much about siege weaponry, and by the time the rest of the army arrived Willas wanted a few siege weapons, in particular catapults, to already be built or at least nearing completion.

"That leaves us woefully understrength for a conventional siege you know." Graceford's voice was merely thoughtful, rather than condemning. Your pinning a lot on our little ruse working."

"Not just that." Willas said with a slight smile. "I'm also betting that Clegane Hall emptied itself to provide those marauders that led the assault into the Reach. They might have something like a hundred men, but that is all."

"Still enough to turn us aside if they know what they're doing."

"We shall see." Willas replied complacently.

By midday they arrived within bow range of the castle and without any preamble or shouted demands to leave their lands the defenders began to fire on the front of Willas's column. He barked out orders forcing his men backwards for a moment, then spreading out to either side along the route slowly but surely encircling half the Castle.

He didn't have enough men for a full enclosure, but what he did have were infantry and archers, and the archers began to lay down a blistering counter-fire forcing many of the defenders along the wall to duck and cover. He lost several men from the archer's fire however, but he had a solution for that as well.

Pulling back most of his men he sent several knights and infantrymen off to a nearby copse of trees where they began to cut down a few trees to prepare barricades. The work was quickly done, and an hour later the barricades were ready and moved forward to defend the archers from the defender's arrows. It would be lifted periodically to allow the archers to fire back, but at this point they were basically just to keep the fire from the defenders on them.

They were mostly successful in this, and his infantry moved forward again this time wielding shovels and preparing ditches for themselves. More men moved into the copse. There they began to chop down more trees within sight of the castle's walls, but not close enough to allow the defenders to fire upon them.

This sporadic battle continued throughout the day and deep into the night, where his army began to use fire arrows, always concentrating on the wall. Of course the defenders also used fire arrows, and more than one band of archers was forced to retreat quickly once their barricades were set alight. The army didn't have enough water among their supplies to waste on putting out fires, and there was no nearby source of it either.

However, Willas was not unhappy with the day's work. After all, all this was merely a sideshow.

On the other side of the castle stood the castle's gates, and if the master of the castle was any kind of military man, he would've wondered why the attackers were not trying to attack from that side. Ander Clegane wasn't however, and he had seen the work going on in the copse, where several siege towers looked to be under construction. That was enough for what little curiosity Ander had to be satisfied that he saw everything the invaders were up to.

Willas had split off his light cavalry at the same time he had split off the force of infantry under Toulev. While Toulev swiftly made his way across House Clegane's land towards Cornfield, the light cavalry circled around the known position of the Clegane castle at a wide angle, well out of sight of any watcher from its towers. With them they had four valuable oxen, donated by House Crane. They slowed the light cavalry up more than a bit, but oxen were much more powerful beasts then horses.

Now the oxen were hidden in another copse of trees to the northwest of the castle, hooked up to a siege weapon that was mainly a large winch wrapped around with heavy, thick ropes on the end of which were grapnels. It was much like the siege weapon that the Lannisters and their allies tried to use against the Wolfsworn at Stone Hedge, only much better built, and there was no direwolf to terrify the oxen here.

The man in charge of the light cavalry detachment, Ser Bruster Flowers stared out from under the cover of a bush, looking up at the wall where he could no longer make out the shape of any watcher. "All right boys, Alec, Myrk, Laster, with me." He whispered.

The four men made their way forward, creeping along through the night towards the castle until they were right outside the walls. No alarm had been raised, no arrows fired, and most especially no burning pitch dropped down upon them. All in all this was an excellent start to the operation, thought Bruster. He nodded at his fellows, and one after another they all latched their grapnels onto the portcullis, which defended the wooden gate behind it.

When that was done Bruster nodded. "Myrk, you'll stay with me. We'll have to replace them if they don't grip proper."

Myrk nodded resignedly and the others returned to their fellows to take word but they needed to start the oxen moving. Moments later the two men who had remained behind watched as the ropes were dragged slowly taut, smiling at one another in the dark of the night as the grapnels all remained where they had been placed. The ropes began to strain, and there was a creaking groaning sound from the brittle metal.

Shouts of alarm began from one of the towers of the Castle above them. "Something is going on at the gate, get some defenders over here!"

"Time for us to go too," Bruster shouted, smacking Myrk on the shoulder.

The two of them raced away, and were nearly to the tree line when Bruster looked back at a grunt from behind him. It must've been a lucky shot in the dark, there was no way someone up there could've been able to see that well with no torches down here to illuminate them and with torches moving along the wall as men tried to see what was going on with the gate. But even so, an arrow had caught Myrk in the back.

Bruster raced back, putting his arm around the man and pulling him away from the castle and into the trees. He put Myrk down against one of the trees sideways, trying to pull the arrow out. But it had gone too deep, and he couldn't stop the blood gushing out of the wound after he pulled the shaft out. He remained there with Myrk for a moment, as a loud groaning sound reverberated through the night from the castle before shaking his head and pushing to his feet.

By the time dawn broke the oxen had literally pulled the portcullis out its trails and Willas quickly sent a force of infantry around the castle with the battering ram that had been prepared behind what the defenders had thought were siege towers. It was very well made, with a roof overhead to defend the man wielding it from overhead fire.

With the night spent using fire arrows on the gate to weaken it, and force the defenders to use water to put it out the gate fell before midday the next day. Once the battering ram was out of the way, Willas and the heavy and light cavalry charged through, not stopping as they ran into the small defensive line that been created directly in back of the gate, going over the rubble that had been placed there in a storm of steel and blood.

Several hours later Willas leaned against his forces side, one hand resting directly behind his faithful comrades as he stared up into the sky which was remarkably blue and clear for an autumn day. Such a magnificent day to see such horror. Willas had seen the horror that an uncontrolled army could do to smallfolk women and men, but this went beyond even that.

The dungeon of Clegane Hall was a place of horror. Several men had been tortured there, literally hacked to pieces and possibly brought in for that purpose, to give Gregor an outlet for his rages. Women too had been kept there, though thankfully most of them had died before his army arrived. A few had to be given mercy, evidently having been kept alive for the pleasure of the acting Lord of the castle. Toulev and a few volunteers from the lands the raiders had passed through had seen to them, their faces grave, and pitying.

Ser Graceford moved up towards him, his armor practically crimson with blood and when he pulled off his helm underneath his short-cropped dirty brown hair his brown eyes were grave. "We found the treasury my Lord. Two large chests of gold and several examples of expensive gold jewelry and other items were there. I've ordered one broken open and distributed among the men. The other, that is your portion and my own."

"Take what you wish from it," Willas replied, still not looking at the man. "The rest, I'll donate to the smallfolk of the Goldengrove. With their land the way it is now, they'll need money to get through the next few months. Anything else?"

"The last of the defenders have been put to death." Graceford said flatly. "By the time the sun moves in the sky we should have the riches of this place moved out, and have ready for burning. Though with winter coming on, are you certain that's a good idea? The local smallfolk might make use of it."

"No, I doubt any smallfolk will ever wish to use this place, not given the horrors that occurred here. The Mountain that Rode cast a long shadow." Willas shook his head. "I don't even want us to remain here for a single night, we'll bivouac outside in the camp we made already. Make certain that the man boil enough water to fill up their skins from the well and leave it as is, that at least will help the smallfolk around here."

Graceford nodded and moved off again leaving Willas to stare once again up into the sky.

It was a subdued and grimly satisfied army that moved off the next day despite the riches it had won itself. They marched deeper into the Westerlands while behind them Clegane Hall burned, the wood inside its stone walls succumbing quickly, the supports of the keep failing and collapsing under the weight of the stone.

It took them over a week to reach House Swyft. Once they arrived, they found that Toulev had prepared several catapults, which had begun to pound the walls.

He bowed formally to Willas and Ser Graceford as they road up reporting in crisp, concise terms. "They don't 'ave enough men inside to sortie out my Lord, but they got more than enough to make any kind of assault deadly for us. I estimate 600 maybe 620 men all told, most of them not very well-trained, but in a siege you don't need to be very well-trained to thrust a spear down at someone trying to climb up a siege ladder, or hurl torches on siege towers. I've got the catapults banging away, but it'll take some time."

"What is the response of the local smallfolk to our invasion?" asked Willas cut as he dismounted.

Around them his archers moved forward into the prepared positions that Toulev's men had made, dragging their barricades into place in front of them as they began to exchange fire with the defenders. More men moved forward to shore up the siege lines around the castle, though Toulev had done his usual thorough job of it already, and had completed dug out trenches along two sides of the Castle despite not having as many men as Willas had in attacking House Clegane.

"Ambivalence my Lord. The rumors of what the marauders did in the Reach have spread backwards of course, and most of them seem to be happy enough that we're not paying them back and like in the same coin."

"Good, that's probably the best we could hope for. However I don't think that catapults are going to smash those walls down anytime soon." Catapults could only throw stones around 25 to 50 pounds. Stone walls could stand up to that pounding for weeks if not months, and Cornfield, while not having as high walls as Clegane Hall was still a well-made castle and the defenders were surely working on their own siege weapon to target his.

"Get our tents set up with the men here, and look at the water situation." Willas ordered as he began to pull off his armor. They were so far back from the front lines it was safe enough. "I'll go and join the workers working on the siege equipment. It'll take some time, but it'll be faster to build a trebuchet and use that rather than the smaller catapults." A trebuchet could hurl a rock upwards of 300 pounds faster and farther than a catapult, but they were harder to make and much more time and material consuming.

Still the time and resources issue could be solved by hurling men at the problem, and so Willas did for the next five days and nights. He was working at correctly pairing down some of the joints with a few of the men who had been carpenters before volunteering to join his army when Toulev found him. "My Lord, there's a messenger here from deeper within the Westerlands, wearing the colors of House Serret."

Willas frowned but nodded. "Lead him to my tent would you? I'll be there presently."

The messenger was indeed a man of the House Serret, one that Willas recognized, a cousin of Lord Serret who had been at several tournaments in the Reach in years prior, though his first name eluded Willas. "Ser Serret, I would bid you welcome, but since I believe that the Westerlands and the Reach are at war, I will instead ask why you are here under a flag of truce?"

The man smiled thinly, shaking his head. "Actually, I'm not here as a part of any kind of unified Westerlands force, in fact the Westerlands have for all intents and purposes ceased to exist. I am here in the name of the 'Duchy' of Silverden, and I am here on the word of my own House and that of Lydden and our allies to ask you what your intentions are towards our lands."

"Duchy?" Willas asked. "I'm afraid I don't know that term."

"I didn't know it either, until a missive from Ranma and Daenerys Stargaryen arrived, detailing what had occurred to the Westerlands army and marched into the Riverlands, as well as offers of what they were willing to give us in return for our loyalty going forward. As the Lannisters have led us to the brink of disaster, a meeting between the heads of Houses decided to go along with their proposals."

"I've heard rumors that the Lannisters had been pushed to the brink of defeat, am I to understand that is a done thing?"

"You might say that yes." The Westerlands' knight was dust dry as he replied, shaking his head. "Not only that, but the messages came from ravens trained at the Golden Tooth. That too has fallen, and will be incorporated into the Riverlands from now on."

He waited until the exclamations of shock and surprise passed, before going on. "The list of lords that they claim to have killed in battle is far larger than those that remain alive either in the Westerlands, or on the list of those sent into exile or put to work like common smallfolk." There had been some anger at that, but when the alternative was either exile or death, none of the lords could argue that it had been anything but merciful.

"The list of dead is of course topped by one name in particular. Lord Tywin Lannister was executed for his crimes against the crown and the people of the Riverlands." Ser Serret laughed, but there was more than a hint of fear in in it rather than simple humor. "We've already begun to hear a song from the bards detailing the campaign in the Riverlands, the March of the Wolf King they are calling it."

Ser Graceford, Toulev and Bruster all twitched in shock, while Willas simply narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Interesting. But are you at liberty to explain what you mean when you say the Westerlands has ceased to exist?"

"I am at liberty my Lord, if only to make certain you are aware of our position regarding your actions against Houses Swyft and Clegane. We will take no action against you so long as you remain on House Swyft land. House Serret land however will be defended most vigorously." House Serret land abutted that of House Swyft to the north and northeast as a traveler went towards the mountains that separated the Westerlands from the Crown and Riverlands.

"Essentially what the new royal houses ordered is the dissolution of the Westerlands into various smaller 'duchies', each of which will be controlled by powerful houses and beholden to the crown alone rather than a Lord Paramount and through said Lord Paramount to the crown. The Lannisters will no doubt be the first among equals still, their control of Lannisport makes that certain even if you discount the Rock itself. They sent along a copy of the new taxation laws were going to be putting in place, but also a royal warrant to allow Copper Lake to grow into a city!"

Copper Lake was a town on the edge of House Serret land abutting that of House Lydden, and was owned jointly by both houses. Indeed, it had been the reason why the two houses had recently intermarried in the form of the heir to house Lydden and lady Serret, Lord Serret's second-born daughter. Situated on a small lake it had several nearby copper mines which gave the town its name, a thriving fishing industry, and was the home of more than a few gifted artisans.

They had been pushing Lord Tywin to go to the crown and ask for a warrant to allow the town to grow into a city. But neither Tywin, nor his admittedly weak father, had never truly wished any other cities to grow in the Westerlands to rival Lannisport, which gave the Lannisters a near monopoly on blacksmith, artisans and other laborers of that nature.

"Do you know if you're the only one to get such a warrant?" asked Willas intently. This is a shrewd move by Lord Stark, I approve, deeply approve! Time and past time more cities were allowed to grow in Westeros. But…

"We are not. We have had ravens from several other houses, many of whom received see similar warrants. So long as we agree to follow the taxation laws for the cities and raise men to serve in the Royal Army we will be granted the warrants for the cities, and be able to govern our lands as we see fit, answerable only to the crown."

"And of course you'll have to swear new oaths to that effect, yes?" Asked Ser Graceford frowning thoughtfully. He didn't understand much of the economic implications of what was being talked about, but the military ones he understood well enough. No single duchy, I wonder where they got that term from, will be able to raise enough man to threaten the royal house. "And how complete was their victory, you mentioned dead lords, but what about the rest of the army?"

"Demolished." Said Ser Serret flatly. "I don't think there's been a victory as complete as this one in centuries, the only one that possibly comes close is Lord Stannis' victory against the Iron Fleet during the first Greyjoy rebellion. As to the oath we'll have to swear, they sent along a copy of that as well. It's simple enough, but also very inclusive and…"

The man paused for a moment smiling faintly as he looked off into the distance. "It's about their duties to us as much as it is about our duties to the crown, my lords. There is definitely more reciprocity in that oath than in any other I've seen. We'll have to formally appear before them to take those vows, but that's a mere formality even with autumn upon us."

He recited the oath off aloud then. "I, heh, 'fill in name here', do vow on my name and sacred honor to be the king and queen's man, to follow and keep the laws of Westeros in both my house and my land, to be their true man 'or woman' in times of turmoil and plenty. To follow the Royal Family's lawful orders for now and for all time. Then in return they swear to act honorably toward us, to aid us if need, to treat us honorably and fairly, to match loyalty with dignity, honor and aid in times of war or trouble, and punishment for oath-breaking."

Willas and Ser Graceford both looked at one another then Ser Graceford spoke up looking at the other knight intensely. "That sounds somewhat like a knightly oath more than any oath of fealty."

"Indeed, that was my thought as well Ser. They expect honor and loyalty from their lords, and will reward such. But if you act in a treasonous fashion…" he shook his head. "They will not be taking any action against the Westerlands houses further unless those Houses take action against them, but the message also listed those houses from the Riverlands that had taken up arms on Joffrey the Bastard's behalf. All of them have been wiped out, defrocked and with their lands added to those of loyal neighbors."

"Frankly all told I think more houses have been wiped out or brought low in this war then any five previous! Lord Ranma and his wife apparently believe in making the Lords pay the price for going to war."

Ser Graceford smiled widely. "I like it, I like that a lot."

Willas stayed silent frowning thoughtfully. The Royal army is the key, he thought to himself. At first when he realized what was meant by the term 'duchy' he had feared a return to the time of Many Kings with constant wars between them. But if the royal house retains control of a royal army, one whose equipment and training not to mention numbers are better than any single noble house can match, they'd be able to keep the peace easily enough.

Especially with the examples already set in this war that going against them will see your House not just brought low but possibly wiped out. What Lord would risk that? The Lannisters might be prideful enough to attempt it if Tywin was still alive and possibly even force the rest of the Westerlands to march with them again. Kevan was intelligent and charismatic in his own way but not someone the rest of the Westerlands would follow, not after so many of their fellows had been slaughtered doing so. The Westerlands as a united nation is truly gone.

That thought was a terrifying one considering his family's position backing Renly, and he hoped that the young idiot would sue for peace. Of course I'm assuming he'll beat Stannis, who I know won't sue for peace. Seven-damn it what a fucking stupid situation! I wish I was there rather than dealing with this little problem here.

That thought was a sobering one, and he frowned again. "This is all very interesting Ser, and you've given me more than enough food for thought. Will you require my written word that we will not extend our campaign into your houses' lands, or will my verbal word be enough?"

"For my part it would be enough my Lord, but Lord Lydden is a rather suspicious fellow. But if you could put it in writing I think that will be more than enough."

"Very well." Willas nodded at a page nearby. "Fetch my writing case please." Within moments the knight of house Serret had the message in hand, and was ushered out of the tent. He would be given a tent for the night, but Willas and his lords had other things on their minds.

"What are you thinking of my Lord?" asked Toulev.

"I think that the work on the trebuchet will be done in another three days. Once that is done and this castle taken, we will turn around quickly. We've retained a few ravens trained to reach House Crane. Once House Swyft falls, the Westerlands will have been paid back for their atrocities upon our people. Then will be able to turn our eyes to the Ironborn." Those ravens and the maester to look after them had been among Lord Crane's contribution to Willas' army.

"Not to the events happening in Crownlands my Lord?" Asked Ser Graceford. Rumors had begun to fly about something happening between the two Baratheon brothers, but the events after that battle had not yet reached this far. "We might not yet know what really occurred, but it's certain that the future of all Westeros will be decided there."

"Let my father play the kingmaker." Willas said, allowing a hint of scorn to enter his voice for the first time when talking about the man. Normally he was careful to keep his opinion about Mace in check, but now he let it out for a brief moment. "My duty to my house and to the land of the Reach. As such we will expel these invaders, no matter who they are or where they come from! We're nearly done with our duty here gentlemen, but more awaits us elsewhere. Let the larger politics and the events elsewhere happen, our duty is to our people."

Ser Graceford nodded firmly and after a moment Bruster nodded as well. Toulev simply nodded sharply, then left the tent quickly.

"We've gotten word that Garlan is going to take the battle to the Ironborn, but that leaves the Mander for us to retake. I'll want us back down on the river quickly, so the ravens will need to carry some orders to House Crane and Goldengrove…"

OOOOOOO

The fleet flew the three-headed dragon banner of House Targaryen, along with the golden skulls on a spear of the Golden Company as they disembarked their troops on Massey's Hook. The ships would then move around the Hook entering Blackwater Bay to pick up the men once they were done here.

"It's a pity that House Massey and House Bar Emmon didn't respond favorably to our overtures my lords, but it will do to wet the men's appetites for further war." Said a young man, known to his friends as Griff, though he sometimes went by the name of Aegon, and had been using that name more and more as the trip went on.

"True enough." said one of the Golden Company commanders, smiling thinly. "You realize however that if my company takes this castle, we'll get the lion's share of the spoil?"

"That was never in doubt." said Aegon before it either of the other two mercenary commanders could comment. The Long Lances and Company of the Rose were smaller companies and far less reputable than the Golden Company, but they added a light cavalry and scouting element to the Golden Company. The Golden Company had those of course, but the added numbers were welcome.

If only I was as certain that their loyalty was to my cause rather than to the purse of the Iron Bank, the young man mused, exchanging a glance with his father, who was not his father really. Still that was the way he thought of Jon Connington and still would, even though his real father was now known to him.

"But do remember that I will be taking a share for myself, yes? We might need it later on after all. So long as your dragon can get us within range to charge the wall with one of our shield squares, that will work well enough." So the Golden commander. "I doubt that the elephants will be needed for this, alas."

"In that case, I should be off." Said the young man, moving over towards his dragon who was being unlatched from its chains as he approached snapping and snarling at the men around it halfheartedly. It had been fed recently after all.

Moments later Aegon and his Calixares, which was what he had named his dragon, were in the air, high up and moving over the army where it was continuing to offload the infantry and more importantly the cavalry. The horses needed to be worked to get over their sea legs. We were lucky not to meet with any ships of the so-called Royal Navy, we can't assume we'll be able to move along Blackwater Bay from now on, and if we have to march inland, those horses will be needed.

His dragon bucked slightly underneath him, and Aegon scowled, pulling at the heavy bridle slapping the side of the dragon's neck while barking out an order in High Valyrian. "Still, Calixares! Climb the Sky!"

Aegon was not happy with the training he'd been able to give Calixares since they had taken to sea. He had thought that the bonding between rider and beast would take at some point now that Calixares was large enough to carry him, but it hadn't happened yet. That bond, which was something all the books he'd seen about dragon riding mentioned, was supposed to make the beast respond to his voice more quickly.

But the catalyst, time in the saddle, differed widely from dragon to dragon. Well, it will happen eventually, and Calixares responds well enough for now. I wouldn't want to put the two of us against any other dragon/rider pair, let alone the massive beast that Viserys is supposed to have, but for merely earthbound threats, our present style of partnership will do.

A few seconds later Aegon and his dragon were moving forward of the army and towards Stonedance, staying as high as he could go for now so as to take the castle from surprise. After all, House Massey doesn't know about Calixares.

It was a rugged castle, its walls thick and sturdy yet uncut, seeming to be hewn from the rock where it stood on a small hill, three sided for some reason, with a single heavy keep set into the center of it two, perhaps three stories taller than the walls. Each corner had a tower with a balustrade upon it, which held catapults, as did the keep's protected roof.

They might well have been deadly against any invading army, but the castle had no scorpions. And only scorpions properly prepared are a threat to dragons, so it looks like I can be of more use than a mere distraction! Arrows might be in enough numbers as well, but with shock on my side…

Calixares came out of the western sky above the castleand attacked without warning. Like Aegon had said before he left the army camp, House Massey and House Bar Emmon had both followed House Baratheon willingly into Rebellion, now they would feel the might of the true House Targaryen.

"DRAGON!" came the shout from one man, staring almost straight up in horror. Men on patrol or standing guard on the keep's roof of the balustrade of the towers craned their necks to stare, but only a few had the presence of mind to raise their bows.

It wasn't enough. Calixares' flame struck with the force of a battering ram of heat, flame and force. Men screamed and died where they stood, or fell as still living pyres to the ground of the castle. Each catapult was set alight, and fires began here and there along the outer walls and the keep's roof as anything flammable was ignited by the dragon's fire.

More and more arrows however were now crisscrossing the sky in an attempt to strike Calixares and Aegon, and he shouted, "Climb the Sky!" in high Valyrian. The dragon surged forward, pumping its wings hard and turning upwards and away from the keep. Arrows fell behind him as more men on the wall tried to shoot at him, but he was now too high up for their arrows to reach. Aegon and his dragon flew there, circling the keep and keeping the blasted and demoralized defenders attention on him.

Then from the southeast came the Golden Company, their infantry formed up into squares with shields before and above them. If they were facing a an army in the field, those ranks might have spears thrust out in front, but now instead the front squares carried siege ladders on their sides, hidden by the large shields top and front.

Ranks of more shield bearers moved forward, their heavy shields angled to block any arrows coming their way, while two ranks of archers knelt down behind them. So protected, the archers let fly. Watching the beginning of the battle from above Aegon winced. Now that number of arrows would have been much tougher to handle.

The arrow storm fell like deadly rain upon the archers on the wall. If they had been under cover or less than utterly panicked by Aegon's attack, they might have fought back. They would not have won, not with the professional way the Golden Company was going about its assault, but they would have at least spent their lives dearly.

As it was after a few of them died from the arrows, the rest broke and ran, leaving the wall around the castle's gates devoid of men. The infantry squares charged forward, reaching the castle's walls before reinforcements from the other two walls could get there. The squares opened somewhat, and the men pushed the ladders up and against the wall.

They lost several men from the arrows of the men inside the towers, and then more from the keep when they got onto the wall, but after that, the battle was won, and Aegon knew it. He circled lower and lower as the battle went on, then turned away, moving back toward the camp and the chain which would hold Calixares against the cruel ground, while Aegon joined the rest of the battle.

He ignored Griff's shout to stay back, to remain at the back, shouldering his way in among the men forcing their way through the now open utter gate. Aegon was eager to whet his blade in blood, and would see it happen no matter his father's words.

Thanks to his crown and his voice Aegon soon found himself at the front of the tide smashing through the now open keep, the gate to it shattered behind them. He hacked at a man who came out of a room to one side, killing him before he could notice the man had just been a servant, panicked and scared. Aegon might not have cared of course, but knowing that his first kill was a mere servant rather than a fighting man might have been galling.

Several moments later Aegon lay in one of the beds in the lords apartment. Lord Massey was dead, already slain by the last doorway into this area of the keep's upper floor. His Lady had already been taken by the commanders of the Golden Company to share between them. But the two of them had a daughter of fourteen, a comely lass with lustrous brown hair, doe-like eyes, and a budding figure.

She was tied up along his side now, crying softly. Part of Aegon was guilty about what he had just done, but the pleasure of the moment and the sheer power he felt even now after the act he couldn't bring himself to care. To the conqueror, go the spoils. With that thought and the memory of her clenching around him Aegon felt himself rise once more, and with a grin he turned, pressing the sobbing girl back down into her blood stained sheets.

The next day, the army was on its way once more with Massey burning behind them. They couldn't stay here for long, and they had Bar Emmon to deal with.

That castle fell just as easily, but it was also richer, making the mercenaries happy indeed. Aegon however had mixed feelings about it most particularly because of the news that his newest advisor brought. "What do you mean King's Landing is gone Eunuch?"

Varys, for it was indeed the master of whispers, smiled thinly. A master of disguise and subterfuge, he had made his way across Blackwater Bay easily enough by fishing boat, having easily escaped from the Lannister/Serret camp. "I am afraid that my admittedly blunt statement is wholly accurate Your Majesty. Stannis employs a Witch of R'hllor, who burned out the city from one end to the other."

With, admittedly, the aid of wildfire packets buried throughout the city, the number and strength of which even I had no idea about! That thought was galling to Varys, who prided himself on being able to ferret out such things, but he was well used to failing in that endeavor.

A thought that brought him to his next bit of news, which he gave quickly, before Aegon, Griff or his commanders could sink further into shock. "And your uncle is sailing in the Bay of Crabs. One of my agents, alas one of very few and far between in that area of Westeros, has spotted his ships there."

And Littlefinger as well, I wonder how that utter bastard managed that? Still, he picked the wrong dragon to back, hah! Fleeing from one sadist to another Petyr, how… fitting for one such as you.

"I have no idea at the moment about his long term plans but Lord Stannis is marching up into the Riverlands to battle your aunt. Now I am not a military man but we might, just might have an opportunity, if we sail for Duskendale as soon as possible…"

OOOOOOO

It had only been luck that had allowed Asha to survive her fall into the mad ocean, and reflexes honed by years of fighting and sailing that sea. She had grabbed at an overturned rowboat that had somehow gone over the side of one of the greenlander ships, possibly from one of the ships that had been smashed open on the reefs. She hadn't seen it, but judging from the bodies that had still been in the process of sinking around the rowboat, they might have been survivors trying to escape a sinking ship. Stupid of them, but good for her.

While the man who had been going to kill her went to the Drowned God behind her, Asha had desperately clung with one hand to its side, while pulling off her armor, unable to pull herself up out of the water with its weight pulling her down. The pain of pulling the chain mail off had been agonizing, the wounds along her side and back screaming from her contortions and the seawater in the wound.

Somehow however Asha was able to pull herself up and into the rowboat. She lay there, gasping and utterly out of energy for a few moments. After a moment however, Asha forced herself up trying to get her bearings. But the waves had already carried her away from where she had fallen into the ocean, and the storm's fury completely obscured the battle going on now. She could see the ships, even make out a few clumps of combat when lightning slashed across the sky, but that was all.

With the aid of the lightning, Asha was able to see well enough to steer her little rowboat away from the battle. She couldn't figure out where she was going, but Asha knew where she didn't want to be. It was hard going, her wounds and the ocean itself literally trying to kill her now. Ironically the lightning allowed her enough light to work with, enough to rig up the small sail and head on her way. Several times she was nearly capsized, more than once Asha had to throw her body around to keep from being thrown over the side.

But at last Asha was away from the shoals, and with lightning still racking the sky she began to move towards Fair Isle. As weak as she was Asha still smashed her hand onto the ocean over the side of the rowboat, shouting aloud. "Fuck you Drowned God, you're not going to get me just yet!"

That was a little over four days ago, and Asha was now almost delirious with pain, fever, and hunger. She had no idea how, but at some point she had lost her way, heading straight out to sea. Now Asha had no idea where she was, and she knew that she was going to die here. Or Asha did, until she saw a small blot of brown in the distance.

With the last vestiges of her strength, she rowed in that direction. At last Asha reached what was a small strip of mountain jutting out of the ocean. Asha still had no idea where she was, but she was on land, something Asha would never have imagined she'd be happy for.

Standing up on woozy feet Asha more fell than stepped over the side of the rowboat. However that was a secondary concern. A few feet away she saw a berry bush ripe with berries, and another bush she recognized as one used to create soothing balms. Crawling forward Asha stuffed handfuls of the berries into her mouth gorging herself until her stomach began to rumble at her.

With that done, Asha began to do what she could for her wounds. They had healed somewhat, her clothing having been put to good use as makeshift bandages, though the one in her side was beginning to grow gray and smell when Asha pulled off her shirt. She crushed the leaves of the plant as much as she could, then screamed aloud when she rubbed them against the wound. "GAAAAAHHHHH! Damn me, well, pain is just nature saying that you're alive…"

She grit her teeth while her fingers worked, slowly but surely. These weren't the first wound's Asha had taken, nor the first she'd have to see to alone. That served Asha well now, but it was still intensely painful, and she would have two nasty scars for the rest of her life. They would be much less if she had a healer to look at them, but even in the best of times healers among the Ironborn were as rare as a virgin in a whorehouse.

Asha didn't know how long it took, but eventually she was satisfied. Out to sea Asha saw another storm coming, and she scowled angrily, looking around. "I need some fucking shelter, and some wood. Best to start exploring now." Wood was hard to come by, so she broke one of the paddles from the boat, and used one end to skewer some kind of furry animal that clung to a rock. Asha had never seen it's like before, but she got a feeling of overpowering laziness from the creature.

After that Asha moved up the small mountain and found a cave, or what Asha had thought was a cave at first. But several feet into it, the walls began to smooth and small paintings began to dot it here and there. Paintings of battle on the high ocean against creatures larger than men but scaled and wielding long tridents, with the symbols of lightning and thunder in every picture. Sometimes it would be accompanied by a hand wielding the lightning against the scaly creatures. "What… what is this place…?"

OOOOOOO

The Old Gods and the Seven were not the only ones sending prophetic dreams to their worshipers. R'hllor was doing the same thing, trying to influence its worshipers not only in Westeros, but in Essos as well. Several dozen R'hllor priests and priestesses the world over had visions of the encroaching darkness, the coming of endless winter. More than one of them decided to book passage to White Harbor from wherever they were in the world.

Most of them knew that they would be looked at askance by the Northerners, but what did that matter in the face of a threat to all humanity? None of them would arrive quickly, and several wouldn't arrive at all with the sea becoming more and more treacherous as autumn continued, but they would do their part.

Out of all of R'hllor's worshipers Melisandre was one of the most powerful. While she was from a darker sect than the main line of R'hllor worshipers, that did not impact the power of her faith or the strength of the visions that R'hllor could send her.

The Red Witch came out of another trance, teeth clenched around a shriek while she fell to the side from where she had been sitting in the lotus position before the fire she had been using as a medium. For a moment it was all Melisandre could do to keep her body breathing, keep her heart going.

Because unlike the vision of the Old Gods, her vision was centered on the White Walkers themselves rather than the war and their pawns, and when it did, the White Walkers had felt it. They attempted in turn to both block and attack her through the visions. Melisandre thought it was the protection of her God that saved her mind, but it wasn't, her life had been saved by the magics built into the Wall.

Blocking a vision from seeing anything was easy, a defensive action. Following the magic of the visions back to Melisandre was an offensive action, and they couldn't get past the Wall. Yet their attack still stopped the visions, with an abruptness that Melisandre felt as if someone had dumped her mind into acid.

It was several moments before she was able to move past the pain, and Melisandre wearily allowed her acolytes to help her into bed. Melisandre knew that Stannis would be sending someone to fetch her soon, since he knew that she was going to be scrying that day. But right now Melisandre simply did not have the energy to meet with the man. "When one of the Fire Guard come for me, tell them to come back in a few hours." She murmured closing her eyes again.

Melisandre had thought to rest and think about the visions she had seen, but instead she fell into a deep dreamless slumber for several hours until one of her acolytes woke her up by shaking her shoulder. She opened her eyes angrily, but saw Stannis himself standing beside the woman. "Your scrying did not go well, I take it?"

"I…"Melisandre croaked,then gestured at one of her acolytes to bring her some wine.

The acolyte did so, handing a glass to Stannis who took it but did not drink from it, staring at the woman on the bed intently. "What happened? Did something go wrong with your spell, or has someone else begun to employ magic?"

"If by someone you mean the Great Enemy, then yes." Melisandre replied tartly, angry at being questioned like this, especially when she still felt so weak. "No one else has been able to block my visions, though I am unable to interpret the ones I see now even as well as I could before King's Landing burned. My visions are centering more and more on the Great Other, my Lord. They are gathering strength, and the Wall will not stop them! We must finish here in the South and march north as quickly as possible! Remember my Lord, you are the Azor Ahai, it is not your destiny merely to unite Westeros once more, but to defeat the Great Other!"

Melisandre was still interpreting much of her visions through the lens of her religion and what she had discovered of what she called the Great Enemy or the Great Other. While she had been able to discover or discern many of the towers the White Walkers possessed, she still thought of them as some kind of monarchy, with a king leading them which she termed the Great Other. In reality the White Walkers had no such single leader, they had no need of such things.

"I understand that, and I have always said I will march north to deal with this other enemy, but I will not leave enemies behind me!" Stannis growled. "Such would be madness, I would be deposed, the land and the lords turned against me all too easily." That his own actions had something to do with that didn't even occur to Stannis.

"Unless we can win this war in two months my Lord, we will have no choice. That is something my visions were clear upon. In two months, something will happen in the North. Something that will segue disaster." She went on to describe many of the things she had seen among the army which matched what Ranma had seen in the main though somewhat less detailed. Melisandre hadn't been able to discern anything about their strategies, except the time which they had still to act.

"Two months!?"Stannis said incredulously. He glared at the woman then stared over and away from her for a moment thinking hard. They were about three weeks or so away from the ruins of King's Landing now, and he estimated they had at least two weeks before they entered the Riverlands.

Depending on Stark's actions, that campaign could take months. And that doesn't even consider were Viserys is, or the second fleet, which I very much fear is the Golden Company, or the bloody Viper in the south. In the long run, the Viper is immaterial, he doesn't have a large enough army to conquer, and he has made no friends. And Viserys' army is a small threat if we can neutralize or kill his dragon. But the Northern and Riverlands Army, possibly the Golden Company, those are a different matter.

"I don't know if I'll be able to do that," he said honestly. "Unless Ranma Stark decides to bet it all on a single roll of the dice, a campaign in the Riverlands could take months. And we're still at least a week and a half possibly two weeks away from entering the Riverlands at all."

Melisandre nodded, not speaking. If she was a saner woman, Melisandre might've pointed out that possibly some kind of peace treaty with the Starks might be necessary at this point, but she wasn't. Melisandre was still enamored of the idea of sacrificing the Targaryen woman to her flames. The power that would give her would be incredible, and Melisandre now knew she would need that power when they went to war with the Great Other.

"Though I am loathe to suggest it my Lord could a return to the oceans hasten our journey?" She said after a moment.

"Without a doubt, though we might lose a few ships along the way at this time of year. But that would force us to either fight our way through the northern navy, which has grown in recent years, or have already beaten their king's army, forcing them to sue for peace." Stannis would never go to Ranma and offer a peace treaty, but if he beat the Stark youth he was more than willing to welcome the rest of the North into the fold once more. Better that than facing continual attacks on his army when he moved to the Wall.

"In any event, I will send a raven to Duskendale and have them send out a cutter to find Seaworth have him be ready to meet us either in Maidenpool or Duskendale. " They had received word that Dragonstone had been retaken, and Driftmark's port razed to the ground several days ago from a messenger from Duskendale. Stannis had been pleased to hear that Ser Seaworth had responded in precisely the manner he had hoped, that he would continue to pursue Viserys' fleet. He doubted Viserys would find any friends anywhere, which would force the boy to remain at sea. And at sea, Davos and the pirate Salladhor Saan would slaughter him.

"Can your visions tell us anything more, anything concrete?"

"I've seen visions my Lord that I would interpret as meaning that one of the Tyrells has won its little war, and is marching down to a river."

"Willas then. I doubt that Garlan would be in any position just yet to take the war to the Ironborn in the Shield Islands or along the Mander." In this he was correct, Garlan was still in Oldtown at that moment, gathering resources and arming his ships for the campaign to come. "Go on."

"The Second Fleet, the one that has a golden sheen to it Azor Ahai, has arrived and won a battle. I did not recognize the keeps involved, but it has arrived to Westeros and won several victories. This time however I was able to see some of the banners my Lord." She went on to describe them, and Stannis slowly nodded.

"A mercenary army entirely. If not for the Golden Company, their threat would be negligible at this point. My men and even those from the Reach are veterans, and veteran armsmen are always better than mercenaries who will turn their tails the moment a battle is against them. However the Golden Company, that makes it a different kettle of fish. They won't find any allies among the lords or smallfolk but they can have an impact on any battlefield. Can you tell me anything more?"

"A man who is not a man is joined them, and they may take to sea once more. But once at sea my Lord, my visions lost power. If I could but sacrifice someone…"

"Tell me the rest of your visions and then will decide on that." Said Stannis was still very wary of creating internal enemies by allowing Melisandre her head on that issue, but there were more than a few lords whose death he would not exactly miss. Arranging it in such a way that could not come back on that would be an issue, but not an insurmountable one.

"There is not to tell. I saw a city, portions of it burning but only portions. What that could mean I do not know. The Black Dragon my Lord is a mad creature that much I do know, that bit of my vision was tinged with madness fire and death."

"Viserys." Stannis replied grimly. "We already knew he was mad, the depths of that madness doesn't really affect us right now."

Melisandre nodded. "I saw some wild men battling men of the North, though there was no context, and it faded quickly into the visions of the Great Others that I've already spoken of. Whether it was part of those visions, a segue into them perhaps, or something entirely separate, I cannot say."

Melisandre hated to admit that, but she had to, the Lightbringer deserved to be told honestly about her shortcomings. Particularly since doing so might convince him to let Melisandre sacrifice someone to gain the power to see better. "I saw the Wolf and the Fish fully intertwined, marching on, got the impression they were marching towards us, but not directly. I also saw men marching east then north. I do not know their banners, so it meant nothing to me but…"

She went on to describe a few of the banners, and Stannis' smile twisted slightly. "The Vale! So those fools have finally decided to stop sitting on the sidelines?"

"East then north I said." Melisandre said sharply before going on in a softer tone,staring into his eyes. "They will not interfere I do not think with the war against our human opponents, but they hear the call North as well my Lord. We must go north soon!"

"If the Riverlands and Northern army is marching towards us, I may be able to smash them and move on to Maidenpool. From there it will take about a month or so if we're lucky to get to White Harbor by sea. That is the best I'm going to promise, and I won't even promise that until I know what the Golden Company is up to. If they were any other mercenary force, I would be willing to allow the remaining lords here south of the Neck to deal with them. But as it is, I can't even promise that."

"Then will you allow me to sacrifice someone to the flames my Lord?"Melisandre replied. "That is the only way I will be able to get the information you seek."

Stannis frowned. He didn't want to be completely dependent upon her visions. The need for a spy network was paramount in his thinking for the future, though he honestly only had the vaguest idea of how to go about building something like that. But right now, he couldn't turn that resource away just because he was worried about being dependent on those visions.

He finally nodded. "Yes I will, but you will have to wait until we are close enough to the woods near the God's Eye. I refuse to allow the army to realize what we are doing here. My position among the lords particularly from the Reach is not the best, and I can ill afford to empower such division when we are about to face our sternest threat."

Melisandre nodded eagerly. "I will have something prepared by then my Lord."

OOOOOOO

The wildling assault on the Wall came with the pounding of the drums from the towers. In his castle along the wall Tyrion woke up abruptly during the noise, pushing the previous night's whore off him quickly and ignoring the woman's shouts of protest as she fell to the cold stone floor. He shivered a little himself as he got out of bed, but quickly raced over to pull on his armor.

About five minutes later Tyrion was up on top of the wall, along with Bronn and the rest of his order. A raiding party of wildlings had somehow creeped up, in broad day light to the Wall and thrown up several of their climbing ropes. They hadn't been noticed until they'd done the same thing at least five times to get up the Wall.

"How the hell did that happen?" Tyrion shouted even as he drew his sword and raced forward to hack at a few of the wildlings who had scaled the Wall in the face of several dozen archers firing straight down at them.

"Ask questions later." Bronn grunted blocking a man from getting around the edge of the line and hurling him off the Wall with a fierce overhand blow the man had been forced to block.

The battle was quick and vicious, with over a dozen wildlings falling to their deaths and even more slain by arrows with only a few having been able to scale the Wall despite having had such a surprising head start on doing so before they were noticed. None of the defenders had been hurt by enemy fire, though more than one man was hustled back inside dealing with frostbite.

"What was the point of that?"Tyrion growled. Shoving his sword back into its sheath and sticking his hands underneath his armor plate. It was more sweaty then warm in there, but it was better than the alternative right now. Note to self, remember gloves next time old boy.

"I don't know Little Lion, it doesn't seem to serve any purpose unless they're trying to gauge how quickly we react, though why they don't know that yet, hell's I'm not going to guess."

"Maybe, I certainly wouldn't want to trust what a wildling scout could report about things like that. Hmm… still I have to wonder…"

Moments later just as Tyrion was about to head inside to find his gloves, the sound of drums reached them from much further down the Wall to the east. He looked at Bronn and the two exchanged glances before Bronn turned and began to bellow orders to the men around them to head in that direction while leaving several dozen archers where they were, spreading out as more men came up from Sable Hall to join them.

Tyrion hastened inside to grab his gloves, and by the time he caught up with his men the battle was already over.

"Another skirmish," said a Night's Watchman, who was in charge of this portion of the Wall. "We spotted them as they came up, and butchered them on the Wall before they could get up even two ladders worth."

The Imp hummed thoughtfully, still wondering what the wildlings were up to when yet another series of drum rolls began to bellow out.

About a week later, the drum noises had become almost constant.

At another meeting with the Lord Commander, Mormont and Tyrion met alone. None of the other lords could be pulled from their positions at this point for a face to face meeting, not when they all knew what was going on now. "They're trying to tire us out, keep on probing and sending small raiding forces here, there and everywhere along the Wall, pulling out the defenders this way and that, stretching us and exhausting us, using his numbers against us."

"Yes, but we can't do anything about it. While we have the best possible defensive position, they have the initiative as to where to attack. "

"And you're still adamant about not using the siege weapons until he starts to throw in larger assaults against us?"

"Yes. While a survivor of some of the original probing attacks might have gotten back down the Wall and to Rayder, it's doubtful. And it's even more doubtful that they would understand how deadly those weapons are now. Especially since all of them are on turn-aisles. I'm looking forward to them realizing that."

"But tiring out our troops like this, it really will have an effect." Tyrion said worriedly.

Jeor nodded, his eyes and face carved like stone. "That's why I'm ordering all of the northern lords and you Little Lion to pull two thirds of your forces off rotation on the Wall. My Night's Watch and the remainder will deal with these probing attacks, but I want most of our men rested and ready for when real battles begin."

So it went for another two weeks, while the weather became colder and the men of the Night's Watch and the others chosen to stand with them patrolled the Wall as aggressively as they could, leaving no area uncovered for long enough for even the fastest wildling raiders to climb the magic-imbued Wall, which was 700 feet tall for its entire length.

No wildling made it up onto the wall, but every day numerous patrols would run into attempts to do so, and the defenders began to flag. Everyone could feel it, even those back down in the castles. And so it came as no surprise when the real attacks began.

OOOOOOO

The first full assault hit near The Torches, which was commanded by Harrion Karstark and his men. He was a youngish man, but stern and thoughtful. He stood now staring out down from the Wall as thousands upon thousands of wildlings streamed out of the forest heading towards the Wall.

Behind them hidden in the woods several dozen catapults began to fire up at the Wall, but they simply didn't have the range to reach the top. The stones slammed into the Wall with a great booming sound, knocking loose some of the ice covering it, but that was all.

Harrion nodded over to the nearest catapult team. "Aim for the back of the horde lads, not your opposite numbers. Leave that to the ballistae. Other than that, fire!"

The man nodded, ranging their weapons on the attacking horde, a few of them further down the Wall needing to push hard on the turn-aisles their weapons were affixed to before firing. Dozens of massive boulders flew out from the Wall, some of them separating in midair before they plummeted down to impact among the horde of wildlings charging towards the Wall. Screams of anger, pain and fear filled the air, loud enough to be heard high above on the Wall.

Still the wildlings came on, entering bow range now and taking even more fire, though admittedly at this far a range the arrows lacked any kind of penetrating power. Yet neither did the wildlings have much armor to speak of, and gravity aided the arrows lethality too.

Behind the horde their catapults continued to try to arrange upon the Wall, and one or two larger ones began to fire. Yet in response the ballistae now fired on them in turn, the anti-siege weapons taking out their fellows quickly, smashing them to pieces and oftentimes killing their crew.

Long ladders began to clank along the Wall, along with grappling ropes to carry the men up portions of the Wall, though of course none could reach the top by any single ladder. More and more men began to fire arrows straight down at the attackers at the bottom of the Wall, until Harrion ordered, "Rock barrels forward!"

Here and there along the portion of the Wall facing this onslaught, teams of men came forward bearing large barrels filled with small fist sized rocks. They began to liberally pour them over the sides, moving along the Wall as they did to spread the effect. They also ripped away grapnels and ladders, carrying any man either carried to their doom.

Harrion had no idea how many wildlings died over the remaining moments of that battle, but they probably outnumbered the men his House had sent to the Wall by at least 3 to 1 possibly more. And in return he hadn't lost a single man. The wildlings might be able to surprise us from time to time in small groups, and possibly larger ones during the night, but this kind of mad assault during the day is pointless. Not with the number of men that look the Lord Commander had ordered to be rested anyway.

And now to put a bit of an emphasis on it! Harrion smiled at that thought, looking over at one of the larger trebuchet. "Load one of the specials."

More than one man looked queasy at the very idea, but all of them set to willingly, loading the large siege weapon not with a giant rock as it could have held but with a large bundle of heavy, clay flasks tied in a loose net. The alchemist who helped them was looking incredibly nervous, hoping that the jostling wouldn't set off his precious cargo.

It didn't, and moments later the cargo of wildfire flasks was flung out from the Wall by the massive siege weapon. It didn't aim for any of the attackers, most of whom were now retreating. No, it aimed for the forest well behind them.

The wildfire ignited in midair from the jostling, exploding out from its casks one after another and spreading as it did, so what hit the forest was as near to a blast of dragonfire as could be contrived by human means. And it spread, lighting the forest on fire for acres in every direction, a maelstrom of green flame. Screams abounded, the noise of them reaching the Wall above even the tumult of the ongoing battle and more than one wildling turned to look, wailing in shock and fear at the horror that the defenders of the Wall had unleashed upon them.

They broke of course, even a disciplined army would've broken upon seeing their camps destroyed like that along with thousands of their fellows, not even considering the losses they had already sustained. Here and there in family groups or clans they broke, rushing away from the Wall and away from the wildfire moving north and west to get away from both.

Harrion stared across the battlefield, his face grim but his eyes showed the understanding of the terror had just unleashed. Still, he had his duty, and the wildlings now knew there would be no mercy from the defenders of the Wall if they kept this attacking. "Ready some men with torches. We'll need to send them down to the bodies piled up at the bottom of the Walland in the clear zone. We don't want our real enemy to be able to boost its forces after all."

OOOOOOO

Benjen led a force of ten Rangers and fifty Karstark men down the wall, rappelling down via ropes rather than using the nearest tunnel at Rimegate. Many of his men cursed at the necessity, but Benjen had agreed with Jeor's decision there, and his own mind was on the issue at hand.

Nearly an hour after their descent began, they reached the bottom, and for once, Benjen was glad it was so cold here at the Wall year round. It kept the smell of the bodies down to a minimum. They were piled so high in places that he couldn't see the ground underneath them. "By the gods old and new…"

The men all around him paused too, staring at the bodies. One turned away, throwing up against the base of the Wall.

Benjen shook his head after a moment, pulling up his scarf to cover his nose more securely, and pulling out flint and tinder. "Let's get this over with boys."

The men spread out wordlessly, taking burning torches with them, and soon the smell of charred meat was everywhere. Benjen and his men worked diligently and soon hundreds of the bodies had been set aflame.

Leaning down Benjen set another body onto the nearest pile, then turned back, moving to pick up another body. Suddenly two others nearby moved and two living wildlings jumped toward him, one from behind him, one from the front. The one from behind Benjen wrapped an arm around his neck, but Benjen grabbed the arm with both of his own, crouched and heaved, tossing him away. "Ambush, watch out for them among the bodies!"

For a moment there was shock, and ten men fell to wildlings blows before the others roused themselves and fought back. From above arrows began to fall, cutting down a few of the wildlings, but it was hard to tell friend from foe from so far above especially with the smoke from the pyres.

Benjen leaned back and away from a sword thrust, his weapon up and cutting into the wildling's side, before he danced back avoiding a wild charge by an unarmed raider. The pommel of his sword slammed into the back of the wildling's head, sending him down to the earth with a thud. "Damn it, stay down! Why won't Mance talk to us?! We know why you're coming south, if you,"

"Fuck you crow!" the man replied in mangled common, a knife in his hand as he lunged forward. "Never deal with the kneelers or you fucking cro-gah!"

The man's voice cut off abruptly as he practically impaled himself on Benjen's outstretched sword. Benjen sighed, kicking the body off his sword and looking around as the last of the ambushers died under the blades of his Rangers and the Karstark armsmen. "Damnit, what an old god's damned waste."

OOOOOOO

Mance Rayder knew it was hopeless. He had known that since the first time one of his scouts had reported seeing men not dressed in the black of the Night's Watch on the Wall. The reports before that could've been discounted, men out for vengeance against wildling raiders, adventure seekers, young man wanting to be blooded in battle all those could've been reasons why the colors of Hornwood and Karstark among others were seen.

But the moment he had reports of those same banners on the Wall, he knew that any assault was hopeless. The Wall was such a strong defensive position that a hundred green troops could hold an army measuring in the thousands so long as they could concentrate on one point. That had been his original plan. Mance had wanted to stretch the Night's Watch, to tire it out, to make it seem as if every portion of the Wall was under threat of attack.

Then he would throw a few real attacks to the sides here and there or straight up the middle, wherever the defense appeared to be weakest. Then, when reinforcements had been rushed to that point, he would launch his real attack elsewhere.

That would have been either at Westwatch-By-the-Bridge across the bridge or even better up the Wall someplace where he knew the nearest castle couldn't have been easily put back in working order from his time in the Night's Watch. That would allow him to hold a portion of the Wall long enough for him to reinforce his initial assault and slowly but surely get his entire nation over the Wall whatever the defenders tried to do against the wildling's superior numbers.

Now that was impossible. The Wall wasn't held by a Night's Watch barely numbering in the thousand with much of them rapists and murderers, barely trained with bow and arrow, and not inclined to take their oaths seriously. It was held by forces from practically every Northern House, a force that might have given him trouble in the open field, let alone on the Wall!

"Harma's dead, along with more than two thirds of her assault force!" Said one of his advisers, a large man named Tormund. "They used some kind of, of green fire and they weren't tired out, they were waiting for us! And in numbers!"

"I know, I feared that." Mance shook his head slowly staring at the makeshift map of the Wall. Along it were a series of x's, where spoiling raids had gone in, marked in different colors in an effort to make sure that he knew which ones have been at least somewhat successful. Unfortunately that color was practically buried under the ones that showed unsuccessful attacks.

"I'd hoped that keeping the small spoiling raids going would allow us to wear them out despite their higher numbers. But they simply have too many men despite the sheer length of the Wall. They can't be strong everywhere, but they have a strong enough reserve that those reserves are spread out enough, and are aware enough that they can cover the entire Wall in enough strength to turn us aside."

"So what are we going to do?" Said one of his advisers angrily, a man named Styr, who led the Thenn, a group of wildlings more heavily armed and armored than most wildlings. "We're stuck between a Mormont behind us, and a long drop in front of us! We can't fight the Others, and they are pressing us hard. Every settlement and clan north of the Milk Water have been abandoned, including the Thenn curse it! And there've been reports of sightings from as near as the Fist of the First Men! It's only a matter of time before they follow us down here."

Mance grunted irritably. The sheer energy and speed with which the Others were moving, even now when winter had only just begun here in the True North was worrying, as was their openness in attacking large groups. And if you fall against them, you rise to attack your own. Worse, the wildlings had no weapons against them. They had no Dragonglass as their old legends said could be used against the Others, or Valyrian blades. Fire seemed to keep them at bay in large enough amounts at night, but even that failed against the Others themselves rather than their wights.

"Keep up the small attacks for now but I think… I think it's time we probe harder around the Gorge…" Mance said musingly.

OOOOOOO

Though Mance didn't know, his authority within the horde had already eroded badly. While no wildling was even able to think of something like an easy victory, they had expected to at the very least hurt their enemies. Not one of them had truly understood how attacking the Wall, trying to get this number of people across it, was different from trying to sneak smaller bands across. And not a one amongst them except possibly Tormund and Styr,had understood what the reinforcements on the Wall really meant.

Now they did, and there were those who were rethinking the entire idea of trying to head across the Wall. Groups here and there broke off from the horde. Some of them headed over the mountains to the Frozen Shore or down towards the milk water's gorge further on to try and get across is there. They failed to do so, the nature of the mountains and the shore turning them back.

The largest group to break off, a force of around 6000, consisted of two clans who had been allied in recent years. Their lands were along the shore of the Shivering Sea, and they had many a fisherman or sailor among them. "Enough of this!" One clan leaders said to the other, who nodded in agreement. "You don't get through a wall by bashin' your head against it, and there be no battering ram big enough ta get through the Wall."

They headed through the Haunted Forest towards Storrold's Point intending to make rafts and get around the Wall that way.

Not one of them would ever be seen again, not alive anyway. The White Walkers and their undead allies were closer than even Mance realized. And now with winter gripping the True North they were becoming even bolder.

OOOOOOO

Theon smiled thinly crouching behind a tree his bow raised side-along and an arrow pulled back to his chin as he stared through the forest towards his targets. It had been several days since the expedition had set out from the small fort they had made near the shoreline, and they had been attacked several times by small raiding forces. Not once had someone tried to speak to them. It was always "Death to the invaders, death to those who bowed to the dragons."

I thought the last punitive expedition sent to this cursed island would've made certain that the inhabitants knew the penalties for rising against House Stark, but I guess not. That had been a few hundred years or so ago after all, and the inhabitants were so used to being left alone that's they had simply taken up new grievances rather than going back to the old ones. Though I don't think that whole kneeling thing's applicable any longer. Ranma like to do a lot of things to Daenerys, but I doubt kneeling comes into it.

Just then Theon's thoughts juddered to a halt as the men he was targeting came through the trees towards the column visibly marching through the forest two-hundred yards or so to his left. Skagosi seemed to prefer to attack from the sides rather than straight on, and this attack didn't seem about to buck that habit. We'll see if they change their ways after one of their ambushes turned on them.

He waited a few more moments, his mind going blank as he concentrated on choosing a target, watching the ambushers slip into positions. Their position was on a slight rise in the trail that the column was trying to follow, allowing them a slight height advantage. But Theon still didn't see many bows or arrows among them. Spear users they had in plenty, and his men had learned to be wary of them throwing the damn things, but not archers.

And they're so confident that they haven't even noticed myself and my men. Theon thought scornfully. It was obvious that Skagosi were overconfident in their ability to move silently through their forest. It never occurred to them that someone else could turn the tables on them.

Theon gave a mental shrug, sighted down his arrow and between one breath and the next loosed. His arrow caught one of the would-be ambushers straight between the eyes. Even as the man fell like a puppet with its strings cut Theon had turned his eyes towards another, an arrow pulled out of the ground in front of him and loosed within seconds.

All around him the other archers had begun to fire, but by the time they had loosed their first ones Theon had already fired four times each time killing an ambusher. The battle was over before the column could even race forward to join in, the last ambusher going down with one of Theon's arrows in his thigh. That had actually been a tougher shot than simply killing him, but Theon felt it was time to get some answers from the locals, willing or no.

Even with an arrow almost entirely through his thigh the man tried to escape, crawling along the ground. When that didn't work and when he felt Theon and his men around him the local pushed himself onto his back turning to spit up at them while his hands tried to scramble in the dirt for anything he could use as a weapon.

He said something in the old tongue, but Theon didn't understand it. Theon turned to one of his men, who shrugged his shoulders. "You don't want to know."

"Charming." Theon replied dryly, crouching down to the man. When he seemed about to spit, Theon swiftly smacked him across the face hard enough to leave a bruise. "None of that. My name is Theon Greyjoy. I'm an Iron Islander, and if you've heard anything about me in mine, then you know I'm more than willing to start carving bits off you to get the answers I need."

While Theon didn't consider himself an Ironborn any longer, he was certainly willing to use his people's reputation for cruelty to his advantage if he could. "Now, can you speak common?"

The man grunted, and looked about to spit again. Theon smacked him once more on the other side of the face. "Pull out one of his hands. I think we'll start getting answers out of him by, oh, the fourth finger or so? What do you think?"

The men around him grunted in amusement, grabbing the local by the shoulders and holding him down as Theon pulled out a dirk. "Or are you simply going to answer my questions?" Theon asked looking down at the man.

He glared back defiance, but stopped and screamed after Theon cut off his middle finger. He started screaming then, and Theon waited patiently until he stopped his voice going down into a mumble. "I'll ask again, do you speak common?"

The warrior violently shook his head, then spoke rapidly. The man who Theon had looked at before shrugged his shoulders. "He can't speak it, but he understands it well enough. I'm not certain if he's just refusing to speak it, but so long as he understands we're asking I don't suppose it matters."

"True enough." Theon shrugged his shoulders. "Alright, we're here as representatives of Lord stark, your Lord Paramount. Why are you all attacking us? Why were you attacking the transport ships?"

The man sneered and spat out something in the Old Tongue, while Theon turned inquisitive eyes to the translator. He frowned for a moment, then shrugged. "They've always raided the ships passing through the Bay of Seals, they claim it's theirs he says, anything they take is theirs by right. And the Starks have never held much sway here, and what little sway they had faded when they bowed to the, er, the dragon-fuckers."

"Really? I doubt they'd be able to find produce of ownership." He replied dryly, wincing internally at how alike these barbarians were to the Ironborn under his father. He squatted down again, staring into the man's eyes. They were watering slightly from the pain he was in, both from the arrow in the meat of his thigh and his finger..

Theon stared into his up the man's eyes, then asked. "How many men have you and yours lost the since we arrived on this Skagos?"

The local shrugged ignorance, still staring up at Theon defiantly. He then spat something else, something that the man who was translating frowned at. "It seems as if they have their own king now, and he is ordering them to continue to harass us."

Theon's eyes widened slightly. "Who's this King, did he order the attacks on our shipping, has he united the clans here?"

The barbarian nodded speaking so rapidly that the translator had trouble keeping up. After a moment the Northerner, who Theon absently noted was strangely enough a Glover man, nodded. "Apparently the raiding started before the king had united the clans, but the last one, the most successful one was under his command."

That had actually been the only one that was entirely successful in taking a galleon intact. The attackers had come up on the transport convoy during a heavy, cold fog, and the ship had fallen to the pirates before any of its escorts or sister ships could go to its aid, blinded as they were by the fog. Losing an entire ship like that had finally convinced Lord Manderly and Mors Umber to allow Theon to go forward with Theon's invasion plan.

The translator went on. "It seems as if the king, one Ulfric, has magic and is trying to organize the people here. He's even built a small permanent village, calling it his capital. Or at least that's what I would translate that word too, maybe headquarters, or symbol?"

Theon smiled thinly. "I'd call that a target. Where is it?" He asked the man at his feet.

The man was happy enough to give them directions, of course he also interspersed his words with threats that the king would kill them all, that Ulric's magic would slay them and that Skagosi would enrich themselves with the weapons and armor of their invaders. Theon ignored it all, already making plans.

OOOOOOO

Kyle Condon and castle commander Bowen Marsh did not like one another. Bowen Marsh didn't like the fact that the Night's Watch needed help at all, and in particular did not like the fact that none of the newcomers had been forced to swear the oath of the Night's Watch. It seemed to cheapen their ongoing and unending duty and sacrifice, not wanting to acknowledge the fact that he, and most of the other brothers, had only come here to evade the gallows. He looked on the order of the Ardent Defender in particular as a weak debased concept. He wasn't the only one among the brethren who felt that way, but he was one of the most highly placed.

This hampered their abilities to communicate with one another, and had worsened when it was the Night's Watch who were tasked to watch the Wall while the majority of the Northerners rested over the past few weeks. Taking their cue from their commander, there had been several dozen incidents between the two factions along the wall in front of Shadow Tower, Westwatch-By-the-Bridge and Sentinel Stand, the three castles that Bowen and the men seconded directly to him from the north commanded along with Kyle.

It had finally got so bad that Kyle removed his personal command entirely to Greyguard, putting some distance between him and Bowen Marsh, who had taken Westwatch as his command. He was still close enough to respond to any threats, and against orders he had taken over patrolling the Wall between Greyguard and Icemark, where patrols out of Castle Black took over. These forced him to use more of his men, mostly from House Mormont and Cerwyn, than he was supposed to, but he felt it was worth it.

But the bad blood between the two groups remained.

When the drums began to sound that a large assault had been spotted, the men of House Cerwyn and House Mormont responded with alacrity. But this time the attack came at night, and had begun by bands of fifty or so wildlings sneaking through the night until they were at the base of the Wall. Then they began to climb, trying to get to the top without being noticed.

By the time they were spotted thousands of them had made it up onto the Wall and were in the process of trying to climb up it. The catapults and ballista began to rain upon the groups still far below trying to rush towards the Wall, while the archers and the men carrying the heavy barrels of stone went to work.

For a moment it looked as if some of the wildlings were going to actually reach the top of the Wall, but Kyle and his men turned them back. The last wildling fell from the Wall screaming as a boulder the size of two fists pressed together smashed into the top of his head, shattering his skull and sending pieces of skull and brain matter splattering against the ice of the Wall and a few of his fellows to either side of him. His flailing body hit another man, taking him off the Wall below him, but many others had already fallen back.

They however left many of their ladders in place. Kyle ordered them burned, and his men began to fire down at them with fire arrows while he frowned at the retreating horde. They hadn't retreated entirely into the forest, he could still spot them milling around right at the edge. "Are they daring us to try to use our trebuchets and their special cargo?"

He didn't realize he had said this allowed until one of the men nearby, a man of house Mormont took in the scene at a glance. He guffawed loudly. "I bet the undisciplined bastards are tryin' ter figure out who's in charge now. We must've killed their clan leader or someatlike that. Look, ye can see several of the groups are simply breakin' off and heading east in full view of us, and I bet there are others retreatin' entire."

Suddenly huge boulders began to smash into the top of the Wall, barely below the parapet. Those boulders would've been fit to smash through any other Wall of nearly any other Castle. The Wall however didn't even twitch. Nonetheless, this was a new and possibly dangerous threat and Kyle scowled angrily. They might be marching east but they apparently left some of their toys behind to entertain us." He nodded over to the ballista men. "Do you think you can range on them?"

"Not through the trees commander." said one of the men, shaking his head. "Maybe we could shoot that far, but not into the trees with any kind of accuracy. I wonder how the hell they are even firing the trebuchet up through the trees. Those things take up a lot of space." The ones on the Wall were so large you had to actually walk through the legs of the device to move along it. The swivel mount for them took up the entire Wall's width, and when they were being turned it took seven dozen men on the bars set to either side to do anything to them. Turning them quickly was frankly impossible.

However they did so now, and the much larger defensive trebuchet's ranged on their opponents quickly. Yet at the same time, the force that had retreated from the initial attack on this segment of the Wall charged out of the woods again, with at least half again the numbers they had when they retreated. Kyle scowled as he realized this. Still it doesn't matter in the end! "Head back down to the castle," he ordered one of the men. "Get the rest of the men up here."

OOOOOOO

What Kyle should've done was call in the Night's Watch from both sides to help deal with this, rather than committing his own men which would leave him with no rested reserves if he was called elsewhere. However his pride would not allow it, and he knew that the Night's Watchmen, at least those on west of him would rather leave him to die than come to his aid.

At the same time that attack was going on, tying up the majority of the men of House Mormont and House Cerwyn, another attack group was assaulting the Wall near Shadow Tower and Westwatch-by-the-Bridge. This group had no siege weapons, and while they had done just as good a job as their fellows sneaking up, the natural defense of the land here was the huge crevasse that separated the True North from the Wall. Admittedly the land here was mountainous, allowing the wildlings to fire from a slightly more equal position, but it also protected the land directly across from Shadow Tower.

The crevasse was only crossed by the Bridge of Skulls in front of Westwatch, which made Bowen Marsh's defense of that area of the Wall ridiculously simple. And because he hadn't gone to Kyle's aid, he still had his full complement, upwards of three hundred Night's Watch brothers.

Archers from both sides began to fire, but it was a rare wildling indeed that could range on the Wall, while the opposite was not true. Yet even so the wildlings continued coming and they finally began to use some weapons the wildlings hadlong devised to try to offset the height of the Wall.

From their vantage point a little along the edge of the crevasse and up into the mountains groups of wildlings began to bend back huge bows, far too large for a single man to wield. They were it in fact incredibly simple and very muscle-intensive scorpions. They fired incredibly slowly, because two men needed to pull back the bowstring to click into place on the holder while a third slotted in one of the special arrows, which was the size of around three normal arrows put together.

Aiming the thing was difficult. Yet they were more mobile than regular scorpions, and Mance had sent forward every one of the things to bolster this attack. If the wildlings could gain a foothold on top of the Wall, then any amount of blood and effort would be worth it.

The Night's Watchmen began to die, because while the weapons of their enemies were not very accurate, there were a lot of them, and if one of those large arrows hit you, no armor or shield would turn it away. They fired in turns, trying to keep the defenders heads down, though they failed to do this, again because even here the Wall was just too damn tall. The defenders still fired back, their height allowing the smaller bows to range far more easily, and the men with the barrels of stone continued to drop them down on the attackers, even those who were able to get across the Bridge of Skulls.

But these were also the same men who had been on patrol practically constantly for the past two weeks. They were tired, strung out, and on their last legs. They began to make mistakes, missing clearly open shots, messing up the timing on the drops as the wildlings climbed up the Wall.

Though that wasn't as much of an issue. After all if they missed one target, the rocks would certainly hit someone below them.

Ducking behind a balustrade Bowen Marsh scowled angrily. All the other probing attacks were simply an attempt to pull us away from Shadow Tower, so that this, they're one real attack could go through! Where's Kyle and his so-vaunted Northern force when we actually need the puling weaklings?!

But Bowen Marsh too had been on patrol practically constantly these past few days, and he couldn't remember that he had in fact not sent a messenger east along the Wall requesting reinforcements. "Drive them back boys! Drive them back!"

OOOOOOO

While that battle raged, Kyle's anger had died down. He was wary about the sudden stillness however after the last wildling had retreated back into the forest. The land out there was literally coated in the bodies of the dead, he could not count how many men had died this day, all of them wildlings.

Looking at it he found himself inexplicably weary. By the old gods why didn't they stop? We don't want to kill you, you bastards, just stop attacking us for the old god's sake.

It was a quixotic thought, and one he knew that his fellow lords would not agree with at all, but he couldn't shake it. After a moment however he roused himself, and turned to a few of his men. "Order the Night's Watch to stand down. We'll patrol the Wall for now. Patrols of 400 in each direction. After the initial patrols go out, said another further 820 men after them, they're to reinforce or relieve the signal tower men along the way, the rest are to fall back into the castle. Once you have that organized, I'll have a message for the last of them to carry to the Lord Commander."

That plus guarding this area of the Wall would stretch them somewhat for the moment. And if the Wall was any kind of normal height, that might well have spread them a little too far against a competent and organized opponent. As it was, they would still have enough men at any one point to have local superiority and they all knew it.

As the sun was beginning to fall, Kyle was resting himself when a few of his men came in. One of them looked very angry, and worried. "Commander, Shadow Tower and Westwatch 've been under assault the entire day! That bastard Marsh is too prideful to call us in, but I think we need to send men to reinforce them."

Kyle nodded, standing up and pulling on his helmet once again along with a scarf and very warm wool and sealskin gloves. Those had cost him several months' worth of pay, getting them transported up to the Wall (without them going missing) had cost him even more. Still, they were well worth the money. "Let's save the irascible old man."

"Actually my Lord, I'm just thinking of a suggestion the Little Lion made about the Bridge of Skulls. This might be the time to see to that issue. So long as we still have the light anyway."

Kyle smirked, remembering that suggestion himself. The Lord Commander and the other Night's Watchmen had been against it, though frankly it made a lot of sense to Kyle. "Do it."

As he was rushing out the man he had sent to command the first patrol heading eastward was returning. He saluted quickly. "We turned back several of what looks to be probing assaults further east my Lord, stronger than the normal ones. I think they just wanted to see if we were still up for more combat tell the truth."

"Keep it up." Kyle ordered slapping the man on his shoulder. "But you're to stay here and take command, Send Lisec instead. I'm off to save an old ungrateful ass from himself."

OOOOOOO

Back along the wall by Shadow Tower and Westwatch the battle had continued. Bowen Marsh had lost around half of his command by this point, not all to the weapons of his enemies either. Most of them were down with frostbite or sheer exhaustion. The exhaustion had made them forget the necessity of keeping covered, and more than one man had pulled off his scarf or face wrapping to let themselves breath and then been too exhausted of mind to notice when they lost feeling in their faces.

The wildlings had begun to make them their way onto the Wall itself here and there. At the sight of that high above them, shouts of triumph rippled through the horde despite the horrendous casualties they had taken so far.

Out of the sky from the east came first a single large boulder, smashing into the horde on the bridge and sending then either careening off the bridge entirely or simply flattening them where they were trampled upon under by their fellows. This had happened before, many times during the course of the battle. The wildlings had actually gotten used to it, and simply ignored their losses as always, continuing to push over the bridge and to the Wall scaling up to join the fellows.

But this rock was special. It had in fact been what Tyrion called a rangefinder. A voice shouted from near the trebuchet that had fired it, the man staring out over the Wall, reciting the litany that Tyrion had come up with for moments like this.. "Target and distance bang on, change out the weights and fire put the next load right on their asses boys!"

A normal catapult could only throw rocks around 25 to 50 pounds. A trebuchet however, could throw a boulder of 200 pounds or more. One such followed the trajectory of the rock already thrown. You of course had to modulate the force upwards to get the same result with larger rocks, but that was much easier than turning the trebuchet on its pendulum.

In actuality that boulder didn't kill as many of the wildlings as the first one had. No, what it did was worse. While blotting out one man unlucky enough to be directly below it that rock smashed into the Bridge of Skulls. A crack formed, and a loud creaking was suddenly heard through the tumult of battle.

Hundreds of thousands of eyes suddenly turned in that direction, both from on top of the Wall and from the wildling side. They watched in dumbstruck silence as the crack it stopped, and the wildlings both on the bridge and on either side of it breathed heavy sighs of relief.

That was before another rock fell almost directly on the spot where the first had hit. With a resounding crunching sound of rock shattering the bridge gave way. It broke in the middle, dragging hundreds of wildlings down to their bloody ruin.

"Archers fire!" Said Kyle and he and his men suddenly stood up from where they had been hiding all along the Wall, waiting for that moment.

Half of them rushed forward to join the Night's Watch along the portion of the Wall directly in front of Westwatch while the rest piled in with their arrows from where they had been hiding. Others ran inside into Shadow Tower to grab up more barrels of rocks, something else that Bowen Marsh, in his exhaustion, had forgotten to order.

The wildling horde on the other side of the broken bridge faded away. They didn't break, they didn't run, they simply faded away, small bits and pieces of families and clans breaking off the action now that there was no hope of coming to grips with the hated crows and their kneeler allies along this area of the Wall.

Kyle marched through up to Bowen Marsh glaring at the man. "Next time you put your damn pride over our duty, I will gut you myself!"

Bowen Marsh glared back then turned away heading into Shadow Tower without a word. Kyle sighed, then went back to reorganizing the battle. Still, he thought philosophically. With the bridge gone we'll be able to draw down our forces here down to a bare pittance.

OOOOOOO

Mance leaned back a tankard of mead in his hand, his thoughts dark. We've lost utterly. With the numbers they have patrolling the Wall in strength, there is no weakness we can find to get up onto it. The men I've sent forward to look at the tunnels say they're frozen over entirely, the only one left open is the one in Castle Black, which is normally left open.That was to allow men of the Night's Watch to travel through it and head into the forest to give their oaths in front of the old gods at an ancient weirwood tree.

For just a moment he wondered if he should sue for peace and said so aloud looking at his top advisers. He knew that these men would not take it as a sign of weakness, though many in the army might have.

Orell, the leader of the few skin-changers with the army, shook his head. "None of us will make deals with crows!"

"Not unless we are looking straight at the death of our people." Said Tormund sharply. "Which we are in case you've forgotten."

The two men almost looked come to blows, and Mance shook his head sharply. "None of that. Still you answered my question so thank you. Our men will respond in that manner, and right now the kneelers hold the whip hand."

Mance used the word with feeling, having grown to share the disdain for the soft southerners that the wildlings held in abundance. He didn't look down on his former brothers nearly as much, though he still felt a certain amount of contempt for them in the way that all of them were so happy with simply going along to get along, of subsuming their personalities into the Night's Watch, to escape their pasts and anything else.

"How many men in total have we lost?" he said after a moment of stiff silence.

"Some 60, 64,000 I think. I know that at least a dozen clans have been wiped out already." They weren't actually wiped out, they had lost their fighting strength. While in the South that meant the houses themselves might be able to survive, here it simply meant that their youngsters and noncombatants were absorbed into other clans. Noncombatants were a very small percentage of the wilding population, usually denoted by pregnant women and those aged too much for battle but with important skills they needed to pass on.

Mance winced. That was a little over a fourth of his total force. Worse he knew those were only the dead, and even that number was probably lower than what had really happened in the past few days of blood and brutality, since it discounted the number lost in the smaller raids. And as for the wounded…

The wildlings had healers after a fashion, but they were very limited in what they could do. Four out of every five wounded who were debilitated enough to no longer be able to fight would probably die, making that initial numbers skyrocket. So Mance fully expected to be told in a few days that he was down to possibly a little over a third of his effectives.

A thought occurred to him. Mance stood up abruptly, pacing around as he continued to work at it then smiled thinly. "Get together some of our best night scouts, I want to go see the remains of this bridge myself. There might be something we can do with that."

OOOOOOO

A few days after the massacre at the defense of Shadow Tower, Tyrion looked out over the Wall at a massive attack heading straight towards the portion of the Wall that his order was sworn to defend, near Sable Hall and Rimegate. It was a massive force, almost as large as the reported army that the wildlings had lost almost in its entirety in that battle near The Torches. "How many men do they have?!"

He knew that trying to calculate the size the wildlings could put into the field was an exercise in futility. Practically every person in their society fought in some fashion, men and women, hell even children were taught how to fight and thrown into true combat well before the children of knightly or Noble Houses in the lands of Westeros. So where a normal, powerful Noble House would only be able to field a trained force of upwards of 4000 or so, a wildling clan might have near that same number, in a war like this could raise that number up to nearly their entire population.

Still, unless they're intending to make a mound of bodies in an attempt to get over the Wall, they're no real threat to us. For a moment Tyrion actually found his mind trying to calculate the number of bodies it would take to make such a ramp, high enough for the last few wildlings to reach the top of the Wall. It was such a morbid exercise that even Tyrion paused, shaking his head quickly than looking at Bronn. "I can't say I think overmuch about this King-Beyond-the-Wall if he's still trying to throw his numbers at us like this."

He frowned however when Bronn didn't answer him. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not a superstitious man Little Lion you know that. You know I'm still superstitious about this threat you and the other commanders see coming."

"Yes?"

"Ta me, this is more proof than any sparkling old-style lettering in armor or weird weapons." At Tyrion's inquisitive noise he went on waving a hand at the horde down below as it came under fire from the defenders of the Wall. Catapults began to fire, not with single stones but with nets of rocks which broke apart in midair spreading destruction. "This I mean."

"I know you an' the other Lords are tryin; to find some kind of military reason behind this. But that group out there, that ain't an army. I've never been beyond the Wall, but I've talked ta men who have and who've spoken with wildlings. Those are strong, hard and prideful people. They wouldn't continue ta throw their lives away like this, not if they had any choice. When I look at those toward hordes Little Lion, I wonder what they're so afraid of that this kind o' slaughter seems a better idea than facin' it."

Tyrion nodded grimly. "You're not the first to think it. All of the old Night's Watch commanders are saying the same thing. The wildlings never attack like this, they should've simply stuck to the skirmishing and raiding, trying to sneak across the Wall even if it wasn't working at all, they might have eventually worn us all down enough to break through somewhere, in a few months anyway." Tyrion shook his head. "If they keep this up, we might be looking at the death of an entire society here."

By that point the front of the horde had gotten close enough to the Wall to enter even Tyrion's bow range and he sighed lifting up his bow. It was a northern bow, though smaller than most thanks to unfortunately how close his shoulders were to the ground. "Well to work Bronn, to work."

Over the next few days assaults looks like this would come in then pull back right before they came to the bottom of the Wall, where they would begin to take losses from things dropped from above, which amounted to a surprising amount of those losses. Aiming at single targets at that range from up on top of the Wall wasn't actually easy, an archer could fire six or seven times and only hit on two of his arrows, which kept the wildlings losses down for now.

However they also started to use the same makeshift scorpions that they had used in their assault on Shadow Tower and Westwatch. Doubling up on the strings allowed the individuals wielding them to get their arrows up onto the top of the Wall, though it also made their firing much slower. However they were mobile, and that impacted how the wildlings used them.

Instead of trying to use them as cover fire for their fellows to rush forward and try to scale the Wall these scorpion men operated in groups of 50. They would rush forward at night, moving as silently and quietly is only wildling raiders could until they were close enough for their weapons to range on the top of the Wall. Then they would send up a barrage at a portion of the Wall, sometimes killing or wounding some defenders, sometimes not, before they would retreat.

In this way they had finally hit upon a method in which they could bleed the defenders without paying a horrific return. Tyrion and Harrion's men took some casualties now, losing five men intwo nights then an unlucky patrol was practically wiped out, 25 men, on the third night.

The Lord commander called a meeting the next day. "This is a new twist on an old tactic." He said flatly. "I don't think they can hurt us badly with it, but they can certainly inconvenience us, and if they can weaken us enough, they might throw an even larger attack at us at that same point."

"Agreed," growled Mors Umber. He was cranky because his command Eastwatch itself, had not been attacked, only the area of the Wall nearby under Harrion's control had. That meant he and his men had yet to truly bloody their blades, or in this case arrow points, on the wildlings. "Do you want me to draw down my men, send them to reinforce the areas that have been attacked?"

Even as Jeor answered in the negative Tyrion shook his head, staring into the fire of the Lord Commander's office, not even thinking about the actual discussion. "How many men do you think they have to lose before they get the idea?"

The windrows of the dead after the assault on his Order's portion of the Wall was bothering him even days later. He had never imagined a slaughter like that, and it was bothering him somehow especially when combined with his own concerns and Bronn's words about what the true threat was.

"That would depend on how many what wildlings there were originally. The land beyond the Wall is larger than even the North so there's no way to tell." Said Benjen, looking even more haggard than Tyrion where he was slumping against one of the nearby walls. As commander of the rangers he and his men had been in charge of the burning parties that scaled down the Wall and burned the bodies of the dead after each battle.

It wasn't truly hard work save the climb down since the Lord Commander had forbidden the use of the tunnels, keeping them iced over. They had also been attacked a time or two by ambushers, but his rangers quickly became experts at sniffing such out, or they died. He had lost a tenth of his remaining rangers before the others learned. No, it wasn't hard physically. Yet dealing with that many dead bodies, that much death, got to a man unless he was a complete psychopath.

Worse, he actually respected the wildlings. To make any kind of life in the far North you had to be hard and tough, and he could respect that in anyone even if he felt that their raiding tradition was abhorrent, as were their courtship rituals. But the thousands upon thousands of dead bothered him, it bothered him a lot.

"Bah!" Mors spat, shaking his mangy head. "What did you think would happen? The wildlings know nothing except how to raid and rape! Not one of them will care how many of them die so long as their family or their clan lives. To stop them, we'll have to kill them all or this King Beyond the Wall this Mance whelp. And he hasn't shown himself yet."

"He did actually." said Jeor thoughtfully. "He led a raid on the area of the Wall right in front of Castle Black. One of those raids that could've been a major assault except they turned back rather than chance it after a few dozen of them had fallen to our arrows. I think Mance saw something."

"He must've confirmed the fact we've used ice to cover the tunnels my Lord, all save the one in front of Castle Black." said Benjen nodding his head. "It'd be a brutal business to attack it, but it is a weakness in the Wall."

"Yes, one we might need to do something even more permanent about in the future." said Tyrion thoughtfully looking at the mall. "Unless I am incorrect in assuming that such ice might not be a true defense against our real enemy here?"

There were sober nods of agreement all around the room, but Jeor had already moved onto something else. "I think." He said thoughtfully. "I think that the wildlings will make one maybe two more major assaults. I can't imagine there's more than 250,000 of them all told, and I think we've already killed at least a third may be even closer to half that already."

Benjen and Tyrion both winced, understanding that they weren't really dealing with an army here, they were wiping out an entire population. The Northerners on the other hand simply looked grimly satisfied, with the Norrey and Umber leaders both looking jubilant at the very idea. It was their people who had suffered most under wildlings after all.

"The trick will be to predict where along the Wall they're going to come." Benjen murmured.

"Yes." said the Lord Commander heavily. "They've lost a lot of people already, if they lose half again as many I think that there will be enough angry clan leaders to force a change in leadership. What happens after that, I don't know. The question will be will they be able to surprise us?"

"What are your orders, commander?" Asked Kyle, who had been silent up to this point.

"I think you hit on it, I think they're going to try to get smaller raiding forces around the Wall and take us from behind either down the crevasse or by small boats in the Bay of Seals. They'll never be able to get large numbers around us, but smaller parties, those they could do. As such I'm going to pull your man off the Wall, Norrey." He said looking at the mountain clan leader. "I want parties of your men to start up into the mountains behind Westwatch and Shadow Tower. Mors, I want the war galleys based at Eastwatch to be reinforced, send an extra 50 men out on each and tell them to start patrolling the waters closer to shore heavily."

"You know that Theon's going to be angry about that. Those war galleys were supposed to be ready to drop off more men to support him on Skagos."

"He'll have to do without them for a few weeks. After that he can have them and your own men if necessary to reinforce his punitive force."

Mors nodded agreeably. Skagosi barbarians or wildlings, he didn't care very much who fell under his blade.

"I also want every converted cavalryman pulled off the Wall and ordered back to Castle Black. Just in case they get past the Norrey in numbers that your men don't want to face in the open field we'll have that group as a hammer just in case."

Going over the numbers in his head Tyrion frowned a little. "That will leave us short in some sections of the Wall." He cautioned. His own order would be half by that command, the other houses not nearly as much, since the North had never really had much in the way of cavalry outside of Manderly and Ryswell, and neither of those houses had contributed much to the Wall save in logistics. Though at this point they had horses at all was surprising given how cold it was appear. But the Northern horses were a shaggy, hardy lot, able to survive these temperatures when their southern fellows would have already succumbed. And the Maesters say it's not even full winter yet. Feels full enough to me!

"That's why we're going to redistribute the men of House Mormont and House Cerwyn." Kyle looked up at that startled.

But the commander went on unhurriedly. "You did an excellent job during the attack on your section and going to the aid of Bowen, despite his idiocy. We'll let him and his men stew in Westwatch and the other towers. I'll deal with him after wildlings have finally given up. For now however, half of your men don't need to be there any longer. Without the Bridge of Bones Westwatch and Shadow Tower are defended by the crevice enough that I am confident we can only leave Bowen's men there to patrol those two castles and even Sentinel Stand."

"If I may make a suggestion, I would think that a buffer force between Kyle and Bowen Marsh could be necessary at this point. No offense to you or your order commander, but Bowen Marsh is a prideful and very stubborn man, and his men aren't the most rational of fellows." Tyrion said.

Kyle nodded reluctant agreement. "There have been a few clashes in the past few days between us, no drawn blades but fistfights and shouting matches between patrol groups along the Wall are common."

Tyrion nodded in his direction before turning back to Jeor. "And my force is the one that you're going to be reducing the most when it comes to pulling back the cavalrymen. That way the rest of the Order can be close enough if the cavalry forces run into trouble somehow. "

Jeor thought for a moment then nodded. "Agreed. I'd like to remove Bowen Marsh from command here and now, but I don't have anyone else with enough seniority outside the rangers I could set as commander of Westwatch, and the rangers are too useful where they are and serving with the clansmen for me to want to use one of their best that way."

The movements began the next day. While the sun gave what little warmth it could Tyrion and the men of house Cerwyn began to exchange their positions, with the men of House Mormont broken up to add a reserve force elsewhere along the Wall for the other commanders. Patrols became even more aggressive along the Wall, night and day, while the clashes between skirmishing groups became frequent once again. There was a tension in the air, as if everyone on both sides knew that the final clash was going to have to happen soon.

OOOOOOO

Theon had sent back to the Fort for more men, pairing the defense there down to a bare 200 men, and sending back a few of his own wounded. With that done, and with the directions to the town that the new king had supposedly created, he and his men marched off deeper into the large island's interior.

The going was incredibly tough, because the village in question was on the highly used mountain on Skagos, which the local had called something which translated into common as 'World's Fang', or something of that nature.

Here the forest floor was steep, rocky and heavy with snow. Most of Skagos had been snow laden, but up here this no truly made their going much more difficult. Here they are along their chosen route they had to turn back thanks to snow and rocks being in their way. It slowed them down so much that what should've taken his men a bare two or three days to traverse took more than a week. By the time they finally saw their target with their own eyes the food situation among the men was getting grave even with foraging every day.

Strangely enough, they weren't attacked on their way. Theon took this to mean that Ulric knew where they were going and was going to try to smash in a trap there with whatever piddling little defense he had been able to raise.

Despite this, Theon and his commanders remained confident that they would be able to win their way through. None of the attacks they had seen so far had come in sufficient numbers to stop then. The armor and discipline of the Northerners had also stood them in good stead against the wild nature of the Skagosi in every attack that had closed to hand-to-hand.

Eventually Theon and his men were on top of a small plateau cut into the side of the mountain which continued on, looming above it. It was heavily laden with snow, but it was flat, much more flat than the lands they had traversed to get up to this point. The village wasn't much, a sprawling collection of small hovels, around one huge longhouse, which reminded Theon forcefully of the one he had seen on bear Island all those years ago.

There was also a wooden palisade thrown up around the village. From where he was staring out at it from hiding Theon could see over two hundred archers stationed up there. Now we know where their hunters are. I wonder if this Ulric has been planning this all along?

In front of the palisade were groups of men moving about. There were about six hundred all told, armed with the normal assortment of weapons that Theon had gotten used to since arriving on Skagos. Not enough to stop us, he thought to himself staring up at the wall behind those men. But enough to slow us down for the archers to have a field day with us. Yet they still have an obvious weakness.

Moving back to his commanders he nodded at themall. "All right, the archers with fire arrows will start the party, if they're stupid enough to come out chasing us, we'll fight their infantry here in the forest."

"We'll lose our advantage of the shield wall." Calis said cautiously.

"Better that than being caught in the open against that number of archers." Theon replied. "I think there are equal to our own not in numbers that at least, and with the palisade heightened vantage and defense will have the worst of it against them. Besides, if the fire arrows work that palisade'll be a death trap."

"Makes sense." Sigmund grunted, before going on thoughtfully. "I'm still worried about the magic that prisoner spoke of."

"We can't plan for something like that until we actually see it firsthand." Theon shrugged. "Besides, he could just be a charlatan all we know."

There was more than one worried mumble about that, but none of them had anything concrete to pin their concerns on. The three northerners returned to their commands, and Theon moved over to join the other archers. Half of them ignited fire arrows, stepping from where they had been hiding around the woodlands to sight through the forest towards the palisade. "Loose!" Theon ordered, and dozens of fire arrows streaked out of the woods smacking into the palisade here and there.

Cries of alarm went up, but the arrows didn't seem to do much, simply smoldering here and there as if the palisade was made of greenwood, or as if it had been splashed with water. Theon frowned at that, staring as the men on the palisade and in front of it began to calm down, some of them even laughing. "Keep it up." He ordered.

Enough fire arrows seemed to do the trick though they were nearly out of them by the time the fires actually caught. Theon could see people trying to pour water down onto fires, but it was a slow process, and now the fires had begun to spread through the wood of the palisade.

Theon grabbed up a dozen fire arrows himself, not aiming at the palisade anymore. Instead he pulled back, aiming up over it through the canopy of the trees. His arrows impacted the huts and hovels behind the palisade, forcing the people there to rush to put out those fires. None of the huts had the same sort of protection that the wall seemed to have and he nodded grimly.

Now the defenders that had clustered in front of the wall charged out into the Woodlands, screaming their battle cries. They were met there by the men of House Flint and House Locke, while the men of house Karstark began to go around their flanks. Theon put his bow on his back, pulling out is dirk and moving forward.

He first came upon two men grappling directly in front of where the archers had been, though they had moved back quickly. One of them was a Skagosi, and Theon stepped behind the man thrusting his dirk into his neck before pulling it out and moving on.

The next clash went far differently for Theon. A islander had just finished off someone in House Flint colors and he turned quickly to engage Theon. He wielded a heavy cudgel and was much stronger than Theon had thought, nearly causing Theon to lose his dirk when he tried to block that first blow. However in return he was surprised that Theon hadn't lost it, and was open to a slice along one arm that nearly cut the arm holding the cudgel off at the elbow.

Even so the man roared in laughter punching Theon hard with his free hand sending Theon backwards in surprise. The man came on laughing crazily picking up the cudgel and hammering at Theon. Theon dodged to one side or the other until he was able to get in close and thrust his dirt into the man's chest. Even so the man grappled with him, his arm closing around Theon's body holding him close. Two headbutts slammed into Theon's head twice before the warrior's body suddenly realized it was dead.

Theon staggered backwards rubbing at his forehead for a moment while around him the battle continued. "What the hells?"

Terrell found him through the melee just then. "We lost about two dozen men already." He reported. "These bastards don't seem to feel pain! You have to hack them apart and even then if you don't hack off their head they'll just keep coming."

Theon nodded, and for a moment was reminded of that ambush that the White Walker's had sprung on the Wolfsworn when they went to up to the Wall. He shook his head rapidly. White Walker's can't cross the ocean, that's impossible. If they could, the Wall would never've been able to stop them.

"I know." He said aloud. "But there aren't enough of them to truly stop us, and our own armor and arms are still in advantage. Press them, hard!"

The other man nodded grimly, and the two of them moved forward towards the nearest clump of combat turning the tide there and moving on quickly. There was no way to really organize a battle like this in such dense woodland, but they had done their best in trying to make certain that every man knew how to work with their fellows nearby, and it eventually proved enough.

The last of Skagosi warriors went down, or fled back to the palisade. The losses were heavier than Theon had hoped for but less than he had feared. Soon enough his men were once again formed up and they marched out of the woods.

The palisade continued to burn here and there, but most of it had been put out. Many of the archers up top had joined the efforts to put out the fires and only a desultory hail of arrows greeted their appearance from the woods. At the same time a shout of dismay went up from the defenders as they realized their own men had lost the battle in the woods.

Two small battering rams were brought forward, while the archers and Theon laid down heavy cover fire. Realizing what was going on more of the archers that had joined the efforts to put out the fires came back. The archers began to take losses, as did the defenders but the battering rams went to work.

Someone on the other side tried to pour down something on the battering rams, but Theon shot the man before he could raise the cauldron up over the front of the palisade. The cauldron fell back, and whatever was inside hit several other men causing them to cry out in pain. He continued to rake the wall with arrows directly above the gate, defending the battering rams as they smashed into the gate. They made short work of it, and moments after they began it collapsed inwards.

The defenders fell back quickly, making for the longhouse, where more archers were already positioned up on top of the roof firing at the attackers as they swarmed into the village. Theon shot two of them, then raced forward soon pushing through the men from the battering rams and racing on shouting, "Get to the longhouse! Don't let them close that door!"

The archers up top of the longhouse cost Theon several men, but he still raced on with others following as the defenders tried to retreat quickly enough to leave them behind and close the door before barring it somehow. They didn't succeed, the last of them going down with a sword thrust through his spine as Theon barreled into the door, smashing it open in the face of five men who had been trying to close it. They flew backwards under the force of his charge, and more of his men barreled in behind him.

A short, very vicious fight occurred there in the area directly behind the door, but soon the last man was down, and Theon strode over his dead body, cleaning his dirk with a bit of cloth torn from one of the dead man's clothing. He looked around the interior of the longhouse, noting it was simply one long meeting hall, though there did seem to be some separate rooms at the far end and along one side.

Tables had been pushed forward to bar the door, but they hadn't been in position just yet before Theon had forced the door open. Other than ten or so men who had retreated quickly from the door there were also more than two dozen women scattered along one side of the longhouse, the first non-warrior women Theon had seen on Skagos, though for some reason all of them had strips of black leather covering their eyes. All of them were good looking too.

In front of the doors to the rooms at the back was a raised dais, on which a very crude throne sat. Before it stood a huge man who had to be Ulric. He was as large as Greatjon maybe, or possibly even larger. He wore heavy chain mail, and held a massive battleaxe and one hand, gesticulating angrily at the last of the defenders as they pulled back towards him, their eyes now showing fear for once.

Yet it wasn't the man who drew Theon's attention. No, Theon's attention was drawn to the woman who had been kneeling behind the throne. She was easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. High cheek bones, luminescent blue eyes set into a gorgeous face, small pouting and perfect lips, all framed by a magnificent head of wild blonde hair. Her body, from what he could see was magnificent, large yet perky breasts set on display by a tight shirt, legs that were long and slim, with skin unblemished by a single mark.

For just a moment as the last of the defenders retreated to the throne Theon and the woman locked eyes, and Theon could feel the attraction stir within him. That was all he had time for before the man who had been standing before the throne roared angrily, hefting up his axe and charging forwards.

Suddenly angry Theon charged forward to as well, outdistancing the men with him for a moment. He met Ulric, ducking underneath and axe blow and smashing his dirk's pommel into the other man's elbow as the arm went by. "HAHAHA!"The man laughed, taking the blow and turning, bringing up his leg to kick Theon hard in the chest.

Theon felt the air go out of his body as he was lifted off his feet. The man hit harder than Ranma! Even so, Theon had moved to the blow just enough to let him still retain his ribs in one relatively good piece, thanks to his chain mail blunting the blow somewhat. He ducked underneath another overhand axe stroke, his dirk finding the man's leg right behind the knee, gashing him only slightly.

The man bellowed again this time in rage and made to kick Theon away but his leg gave out. Even if he couldn't feel pain, if the tendons were actually sliced the body wouldn't obey any command sent to them by his brain. The man nearly collapsed before steadying himself, but by that time Theon was up on his back.

But Ulric dropped his battleaxe, reaching behind him to grab Theon's head and squeezing. He pulled Theon over his head before Theon could trust his dirk into his back hurling Theon to the ground.

Theon rolled with it, coming up with another man's sword and racing Ulric, dirk in one hand sword in the other. But he lost the sword to a blow from Ulric's axe which shattered the bronze weapon. A sudden lunge before Theon could get away Theon found his good arm grabbed by the man's huge ham sized hand, and soon found himself lifted off the ground as easily as child.

The man bellowed a laugh, saying something in the old tongue. Then he stopped, a quizzical expression on his face for a moment. That was because Theon had reached down to the pouch at his side and pulled out an arrow, thrusting the arrow into the man's eye and into his brain. For a moment Theon still hung there, then the man's body collapsed and Theon fell to the floor.

Around him a wailing began from the Skagosi, and here and there a few of them even threw down their weapons. Through the crowd the woman that had been kneeling by the throne approached slowly, men making way before her, even his own men, until she stood before Theon. She spoke in the old tongue, kneeling before him bowing her head and placing her palms on her forehead in token of surrender.

Looking up she noticed Theon's look of incomprehension, and then she spoke slowly in common, the first Skagosi that had done so. "What you kill, you keep."

Later that night while his men were seeking similar pleasures among the Skagosi women, who seemed more than willing for the most part, Theon lay with the woman who had apparently been Ulric's. He was caressing her gently, she was too gorgeous for him to want to speed things along quickly.

Her porcelain skin was so cold, but it wasn't painful, rather it was enticing. He wanted to warm her up, whatever it took. The woman had taken to his attentions amorously seemingly fascinated by Theon's barely hairy chest, and his lack of a beard, as well as all the attentions he was paying her.

That wasn't to say the woman, whose name was Elima, was a submissive lover, she gave as good as she did, kneading, caressing, kissing him hard and ardently, her hands working at his manhood bringing it to attention quickly. Soon even though Theon had wanted to take his time, he was simply to aroused to wait any longer. By the look in her eyes Elima was too. They were slitted, her cheeks almost flushed despite the porcelain nature of her skin, a fascinating hue.

Theon began to suck and nuzzle at her neck, as Elima straddled him, pushing him down onto his back as she moved her body down until she was sitting on his thighs, then raising herself slightly. "MMhhhaaa!" Elima threw back her head her eyes closed, moaning loudly as she guided his length into her. Theon bucked underneath her, the two of them began to against one another while Elima's head remained thrown back her eyes closed as she moaned loudly, saying something in the old tongue.

Despite all the experience he had, Theon found his end rushing to meet him quickly, something he put down to how long it had been since he had left White Harbor. Then we went he cum, he gasped feeling the woman clench around him as if trying to pull his cum out of him. Then it became painful, something else was happening, something Theon couldn't quite name was leaving his body.

He felt drained, more drained then the battle and their rutting could explain away. He fell back, his hands falling from the woman's breasts to lay limply alongside his body. Theon simply laid there as the woman continued to ride him, his erection not going down. Moments later Theon began to black out, his eyes slowly shutting, but just as he did so, he caught a glimpse of Elima's eyes opening again, glowing bright blue in the dark of the room.

OOOOOOO

It was deep night, and the phrase 'deep night' was never so profound as a night on the Wall, Jeor thought standing on top of the Wall directly in front of Castle Black a cup of warmed mead in his grip warming his fingers and the steam from it kept his face warm as well as he stared out into the night for now.

Jeor was restless, his shoulders twitching underneath his ancient armor, his hand on the hilt of the Valyrian blade Longclaw as he stared out into the dark. He somehow knew that Castle Black would be attacked. It was stupid, an example of emotion and hope overriding fact, but the tunnel through the Wall here represented a possible weakness.

That was why I left it alone, a possible weakness through which the wildlings could pour their entire hordes far faster than going over the wall. I'm surprised Mance has been able to keep them from attacking us here so far, but at some point his command of the horde will break and they'll attack us here. And it needs to be soon, before they hunt out all of the wildlife in the forest feeding their numbers, and start to weaken and spread out.

This feeling was proven correct later that same night. The steam from his ale had long since stopped, and the cold was beginning to affect his ancient bones despite how covered up he was when those damnable portable scorpion arrows began to clatter and smash along the parapet of the Wall. Here and their archers who had been covering next to the parapet moved and began to fire back down into the darkness.

There was a shout and a clamor from down below in the darkness and then a shout went up. "Fires down below! They're trying to break through the door!"

Jeor nodded grimly. "Forward the barrels of stone! Pour them all out down there lads, all of them!"

He nodded to Castle black's Master-at-Arms. "Get our brothers up here, but not the Mormont men. We'll hold them in reserve for now, along with the dedicated archers. Wait to use them until they have light to see by."

OOOOOOO

Later that same night a runner arrived near the ruins of the bridge of bones. "Mance," the man said gasping for air, hands on his knees. "The attack on Castle Black's begun!"

"Good." Mance said. He had committed all of the remaining portable scorpion's to that attack, along with Orell's men, Styr, all of his men and a little under half his remaining force that wasn't part of the small raiding forces still set to assault here and there further to the east of Castle Black, just enough to keep the defenders there to remain where they were. That attack would continue throughout the night and into tomorrow, along with heavy raidings along the Wall. But all of it was a cover for the real attack, which would be here.

He stared out into the darkness, staring at the expense were there had previously been a bridge. As he had hoped, the bridge wasn't actually smashed entirely, just the middle-most section. The distance between the two sides of the bridge wasn't wide enough to stop a man with a grapnel to throw it across.

Come on Weeper, he thought to himself staring at the bridge while all around him fully 40,000 wildling raiders waited along with their giant allies. Their war mammoths were down with a few of their men to make the attack on Castle Black all the more believable. But the clan chief was here along with his men. Come on Weeper, give us the signal…

OOOOOOO

The Weeper was one of the most intelligent, experienced, and ruthless raiders among the wildlings. He was also personally loathsome, and feared among all his followers for his cruelty. All this made him perfect for the current task.

Three nights previous he'd led a small band down into the crevice and then across the frozen waters of the Milkwater the top of which had frozen more than enough to allow his men to simply walk across it. But getting up the other side had been long and arduous, and he had lost more than a dozen men.

Their screams as they fell to their death would've been enough to alert the men on the Wall far, far above them. However, every man with the Weeper had his mouth muffled in some manner. Those that had protested, had their mouths sown shut by the Weeper, or their tongues pulled out. Finally they were at the top of the ridge line, where they began to scale the Wall itself, which towered over the edge of the ravine.

At Westwatch, Bowen Marsh was an angry and rather bitter man. The fact that he and his men had to be saved by Kyle and the men he had so disdained, the fact that they could leave the Wall after the wildling threat was dealt with, galled him like fire. In his anger he had retreated into the pleasures of a brew of rotgut that a few of his men created here in Westwatch, allowing his men to do whatever they wished.

Very few of them wished to actually continue to patrol the Wall, as angry and bitter as their commander. Especially since without the bridge allowing an attack force across, the most action they would see might be the scorpion men firing on them. No force could scale down into the ravine and across then up again after few were staring toward the east, where faintly they could hear the drums sounding that attack was underway.

The first few of them died to wildling blades before they even realized they were under attack. A few tried to sound the alarm, rushing toward the nearest signal tower, but the wildlings were there before them, and the Weeper himself had raced into the signal tower with a few of his men killing the crows stationed there. He lost a few men to the damn crows, but all of the defenders on this portion of the Wall died before they could sound the alarm.

Looking around he nodded in satisfaction then moved back into the signal tower motioning to a few of his men, while still others moved about, taking axes or torches to some of the siege weapons. "You lot remain here, look as if you're crows if anyone looks in this direction."

"I don't know chief, Ah'm no sure I can act as if I don't have a spine!"

There were some chuckles at that, but not many. Far too many wildlings had died since they had begun to assault the Wall, and the metal of the Night's Watch and the men of the North had proven to be a match for wildling courage.

But now that was over with, and the Weeper smiled in anticipation while ropes began to be thrown back down the Wall making it easier for the next group, as other ropes were tossed across the destroyed bridge, making a very makeshift rope bridge there. It would be tough, and it would be slow, but they would be able to eventually get at large force across that way.

The moon was more than three/fourths of the way it down the sky by the time the Weeper had enough men on the Wall to decide to enter Westwatch. The route down to the castle was a wide stairwell carved into the back of the Wall, entering a high tower.

At that point however things began to go amiss for the attackers. While Bowen Marsh might have allowed his resentment and anger at the other commanders to color his command, the master at arms of the Westwatch was a man named Qhorin Halfhand.

Qhorin was in the same mold as the old commander of Shadow Tower, commander Mallister. He was a grim, elderly man who took his duties seriously, and truly believed that the duties of the Watch were an honor. He'd been out on patrol with the mountain clans until that night, but since he had come bake he had takenBowen Marsh to task.

Now Qhorin was leading a band of brothers up onto the Wall along the same staircase the wildlings were marching down. For a moment the two groups simply stared at one another, shocked at this sudden meeting. Then Qhorin snarled out "Wildlings! Attack!"

As his men surged forward he turned barking out commands to the men behind him. "Get back into the castle and send runner to Shadow Tower!" Qhorin stared up at the Wall noting that the signal towers in the vicinity were silent. "We can't expect anyone else to hear and come to our aid along the Wall!"

With that the two forces clashed, and the Weeper found himself face-to-face with Qhorin. The wildling chieftain snarled, angry at their plan being so suddenly halted in its place like this, and attacked with furious energy. "Damn you crows!"

Qhorin Halfhand was named that because he had lost all the fingers on his dominant hand in a bygone battle and been forced to re-train himself on his other. He had done so to such a degree that most people never really realized that his new hand hadn't always been his dominant one. He parried the blows of his opponent aside, slicing into the other man's bone armor and almost gutting him with his first strike.

The Weeper only saved himself by leaping back up onto the stair behind where he had been standing, staring in horror as Qhorin finished the swipe in another wildling's shoulder before kicking that man off the staircase and out into the air to plummet down into the courtyard of Westwatch.

Desperately Weeper grabbed a few of his fellows and threw them into the front of the battle. With that cover he turned away, pushing his way through the press of bodies away from the crows that were now forcing their way up the tower, their better weapons and armor allowing them to match the wildlings in this ferocious melee.

OOOOOOO

Hearing the clamor of battle closer than it should've been, Mance groaned around allowed before turning away from the rope he was about to climb up the Wall to bark out orders. "Somethings happened up top! Get the Giants across and winch them up onto the damn Wall! If they can hold aid coming along the Wall we can still win this!"

His order went out, and with surprising speed givenhow disorganized the horde was the Giants were hastened on to the very slim rope bridge. The ropes creaked alarmingly under their weight, but held. The giant creatures, 15 feet tall and bulging with muscle were quickly across and then began to scale up the Wall as easily as any man.

With that done Mance turned staring out into the night out of the Wall. He prayed that the Weeper and his men could hold the top of the Wall against the men from Westwatch long enough for more of his horde to get across the bridge. Or else all is lost.

OOOOOOO

Back at the front of the battle Weeper had fallen back through his men, staring in astonishment as the crows forced their way up the staircase. His men should've had the advantage, being able to stand above the crows and strike down at their heads. But the better armor and weapons of the crows was telling. For every one of them that fell, four or five of his own man were slain. He was quickly running out of raiders.

Luckily Mance's men had continued to come across the bridge and up the Wall, if slowly, since he had first slain the watchers on the Wall. Fully 2,000 wildlings had made it up the Wall by this point that weren't a part of his original raiding force, and they barreled down the staircase adding their weight to the battle and pushing the thin line of Night's Watch back.

But the rest of the castle had been roused by this point. More men began to pour out of it joining the ferocious battle occurring on the stairs.

For now that part of the battle was a stalemate and the Weeper sighed a little in relief. Then he stared as the first of the giants pulled himself up over the parapet of the Wall.

OOOOOOO

Lord Tyrion was roused from a deep slumber by a pounding on his door. "What by the Stranger's puckered asshole do you want!? It's not even dawn yet!"

He opened it to find Bronn standing outside his face grim. "Trouble at Westwatch, the wildlings've somehow gotten across the gorge."

For moment Tyrion gaped at the man then shook his head. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Just because someone says the bridge is gone doesn't mean that the entire thing is gone! We should've thought of that! And I should've pushed for Bowen Marsh to be removed despite needing Qhorin out with the mountain men! "Rouse the Order, all of it!" he ordered, moving back and away from the doorway. "We'll march along the Wall to their support. Then get the cavalry moving as soon as possible along the Wall after us to intercept any groups that try to make it down.

Moments later Tyrion and Bronn joined their men about 600 infantrymen, on top of the Wall. Tyrion didn't mince words simply pointed west along the Wall. "Let's get it stuck in boys!"

The men answered with a roar and marched off in that direction, leaving behind man enough to man several of the trebuchets on this portion of the Wall as Tyrion and ordered them to start firing the moment they had targets. Only the trebuchets could fire far enough from this position to range on the area straight in front of Westwatch and Shadow Tower.

Not even a quarter of the way to Sentinel Stand they ran into opposition, a force of wildlings moving down the Wall and taking out the signal towers guards and destroying siege weapons as they went.

Tyrion and his men arrived just as one signal tower was being attacked, the men there standing firm against the assault. But there were only five of them, against something like 200 wildlings. Even so one man was banging on the drums while the other four tried to hold the top of the simple tower, two bows firing down into the mass while the wildlingstried to scale up the ladder against two men holding it.

The wildlings saw the reinforcements coming by their torches and turned away from the tower to charge at them. Tyrion pointed his sword at them. "Charge!"

At the head of his men Tyrion dashed forward, his eyes alight with battle. He might be a dwarf, he might be the Imp everyone called him back home. But right now, his blood was up as much as his brother's would've been in a similar situation.

He hacked and slashed at the first few wildlings that were in front of him, while behind him his men followed with a furious charge. A few wildlings were knocked off their feet and then off the Wall to either side such was the impetus of the charge. Here, just like on the stairwell down to Westwatch, the armor and weapons of the defenders proved telling, as did the weeks of training Bronn had insisted they all go through.

Each group of five men fought as a unit, watching each other's back and pushing forward as one, their shields in front of them. While they couldn't form a full shield linewall across the breadth of the Wall, the wildlings still couldn't truly flank them. Man fell on both sides, but the majority of dead were wildlings, and they began to fall back.

Tyrion turned slashing open one man's back before ducking under a flail made of bones, tendons and wood rather than metal and chain. He stabbed that man in the chest with his blade punching through his low quality ring mail easily.

Moments later however went up from the wildlings. "The Giants! The Giants!" at the same time many shouts of dismay or even fear went up from Tyrion's men.

Through the throng of wildlings in front of him Tyrion could barely make out a line of Giants coming, huge massive creatures with thick brows, small, deep-set eyes, and fury bodies with barely a loincloth to their names. The fur however was obviously both warm and thick enough to serve as protection, and as he gaped at them through a break in the battle, several arrows hit one giant only to either not penetrate into its body, doing nothing other than make him angry.

The giants wielded massive clubs rather than any more sophisticated weapon, but in their hands it was certainly enough. He watched in anger as they reached the battle, smashing both wildlings and his own men into paste with blows from those clubs. Worse they had the reach of any sword, even a greatsword.

From behind him Tyrion heard a shout of "Bring up long spears!" Which was a good idea, but one he couldn't make use of. Two of his men had died, leaving Tyrion too far forward from Bronn and the rest of his Order for the moment. He hacked left and right, trying to fall back, but the first of the giants was too close to evade.

Backing up will only make me an easier target! He thought fiercely, staring up at the beast which looked down at him as if perplexed by the small creature in front of him. Then the giant turned away obviously ignoring him thanks to his small stature.

This inflamed Tyrion so much he shouted. "Don't ignore me you hairy beast! Your mother could tell you that the best things come in small packages!"

Not his best material to be sure, but it seemed to work and the giant turned back, raising his club and bringing it down far faster than Tyrion had anticipated. Yet even so he ducked under it, rolling along the stone of the Wall. Yet halfway through the roll he was forced to fling out one hand to redirect a blow from a man standing beside the giant, who was bringing down a heavy axe on Tyrion.

Tyrion screamed as instead of smacking his hand along the flat of the ace and redirecting it, Tyrion's attempt had merely put his arm between the rest of his body and the attacks. The axe blow impacted his arm directly behind his wrist cutting off his hand entirely, but Tyrion continued to roll until he was underneath the giant's legs.

From there Tyrion furiously stabbed upwards with his blade, underneath the giant's loincloth.

"GRAHUOOOOOOOooooooooooo!"The giant moaned, going to its knees as Tyrion threw himself forward, coming up behind it. From there he stabbed the thing in the back, forcing his full weight upon his sword hilt to press his blade into the things furry hide.

Another giant roared in fury at the other's death, raising its club but by that point several dozen men had come forward carrying cavalry lances and thrusting them at the giants. The one menacing Tyrion turned angrily as he took a lance point in the shoulder, hammering the man wielding it down with its club but falling back now with the other giants as they were menaced by the heavy lances.

They still retained at least reach parity with the defenders and men continued to fall, but the battle had turned, and a surge from his men pushed the giants and wildlings back far enough for them to get to Tyrion. Bronn grabbed Tyrion by the shoulder and pulled him back from the front line, staring at his wound before motioning to another man. "Help me with him."

"Don't bother." Tyrion grunted then nodded over at one of the brazier's nearby. "Grab a coal out of that, we can cauterize the stump and stop the bleeding, but I'm not going back to the castle while the fight still going on. Can't you'll all have all the glory after all."

Bronn stared at him, then nodded. "We're gonna have to find a new name for you Little Lion. Little is not a description you can have after you slay a giant."

Tyrion grinned, then began to laugh and only stopped when the man who had rushed over to the brazier thrust a large piece of coal on a pair of tongs down onto his amputated wrist. He screamed loud and long at that, but Bronn held his arms still while other men held him down until the entire wound had been cauterized. It was an ugly ragged thing, and the bleeding hadn't stopped so much as slowed dramatically, but a rough and ready tourniquet was pulled on quickly. With that Tyrion was well enough to go on and he smiled grimly as the sun began to rise. "Press forward boys! Press forward!"

The battle didn't end with the coming of the sun. It remained bloody and desperate while more and more men from further east along the Wall joined in, the men of house Mormont leading the way to aid the order as they pushed towards Westwatch. Runners soon found the men of the mountain clans, and they went to reinforce the brothers of Westwatch and Shadow Tower, which had been besieged just as badly as Westwatch, only with the defenders in a better position to ward off attacks.

Cavalry units also began to patrol along the Wall, killing wildlings who were trying to scale down the backside of the Wall between castles. It was bloody and hard work. But that and even the battles occurring in the two castles under direct assault was a veritable picnic to the battle occurring up on top of the Wall against the giants.

The giants continued to wreak a bloody toll on the men of the Order and House Mormont for more than half the morning, their hides and size making them hard to kill. Yet there were never many of them, and after the last of them died the order still had more than half of its number. They continued to push the wildlings back and further back, soon aided by more brothers of the Night's Watch and other houses.

The horde that was still trying to press over the makeshift bridge also quickly came under fire of every weapon that could range from that position. Massive bushels of rocks were flung into the air to spread and wreak havoc amongst the horde.

Worse however was the single load of wildfire that was added to the mix on Tyrion's orders. The forest of the mountains on the other side of the crevice went up in flames all around and above the wilding horde. Thousands of them died in that fire before they could get away.

For the rest of that day the battle ebbed and flowed. The wildlings were desperate, and even with the fire raging behind they still tried to cross the rope bridge. This despite the heavy fire from the siege weapons and then the archers as the defenders pressed forward along the Wall.

By the time the sun was high in the air the last of the wildlings had been thrown down into the Gorge they had climbed up from, the rope bridge had been burned, and the once mighty wildling horde had finally tasted complete defeat.

Though Mance didn't have time to realize it. He died when that one delivery of wildfire had hit the forest near where he had been waiting to go across the makeshift bridge.

That battle signified the end of Mance Ryder and the wildling hordes' attempt to assault the Wall. No one would ever know precisely how many thousands of wilding had died in that battle or the ones before it, but they would know soon how many survivors there were.

Several days after he had lost his hand Tyrion was yet again summoned to Castle Black. He had been on light duty since the battle, turning over much of the day-to-day running of the Order of Ardent Defenders to Bronn as Tyrion recuperated from his wounds. He had taken a nasty knock to the head at one point during the battle, which exacerbated the loss of his hand. Luckily it had been his left hand rather than his right, which was his dominant one.

He was surprised however to see Jeor Mormont on the Wall rather than inside Castle Black, along with several of the other commanders. In fact practically every commander was there, even Qhorin who was now second-in-command of the entire Night's Watch. Qhorin had executed Bowen Marsh for gross negligence after Westwatch was no longer under attack. .

"For what act have you called upon the services of a rather battered if still handsome Imp, oh mighty commander?" asked Tyrion bowing obsequiously and obviously falsely to the older man.

"Mock me not Little Giant, else I decide your skin would do me as a new rug." Said the older man, smiling faintly. That was Tyrion's new nickname among the men, that and simply Giantslayer. It was certainly a better last name then Brightwall to Tyrion's mind, and he was beginning to wonder if he could convince the King in the North to change his last name.

"You don't want my skin, its small and stringy." Tyrion replied then smiled faintly. "Still my lord, why are we here? My warm, and above all magnificently occupied bed is calling me back into her folds."

In reply the old man pointed down at the ground out across the open field between the Haunted Forest and the Wall. Tyrion turned and looked in that direction, peering up over the parapet to do so. He frowned as he noted a wide and very white sheet being held between four wildlings. "It looks to me as if someone wants to parlay."

Of course Jeor could not go down himself. That was left to First Ranger Benjen, and several of the others including young Karstark and Tyrion. Tyrion's men supplied the guards. The Night's Watch commander knew how the wildlings looked at them, and since this was supposed to be a peaceful meeting he had decided not to send that many brothers along so as not to further inflame the issue.

While the gates portcullises were raised and the party allowed through, the rest of the Wall was ready for a sudden attack. The Wall up on top was lined by archers and very siege weapon within sight was trained on the forest behind the supposed peace party. If this was some kind of trick, the wildlings would pay dearly for it.

They stopped several yards away from the wildlings, and Benjen stood forward holding his hands in front of him in token of peace. "I am Benjen Stark, First Ranger. These with me represent the people of Westeros, united in the Wall's defense. Who are you and what clans do you speak for?"

A woman stood forward. She was young, possibly the same age as Benjen's oldest nephew, with long shimmering blonde hair the color of dark honeyworn in a golden braid across one shoulder, with high cheekbones and pale grey eyes and a rather impressive bosom. Tyrion could not help but find her beautiful, a truly strange thing to think of any wildling woman.

"I am Val, and I speak for all the wildlings that remain." She said bitterly, her voice dulcet despite the bitter tone. "You and your blight-blasted kneelers have slaughtered our people so much that clans barely matter anymore."

Benjen hid a wince, realizing that that last fire and the trick assault on Castle Black must have cost the wildlings even more than he had feared. That assault had actually done a bit of damage to the tunnel's gates, but the fighting there had paled in comparison to what was going on miles to the west along the Wall.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Benjen replied. "You might not believe that, but we, those among the Night's Watch and those with us here, know the true threat that is even now gathering power behind you. I have to ask, have you continued to burn your dead?"

"We have." Val nodded now looking at him more thoughtfully. "You know what we flee from then?"

"Yes, and that is why I personally would have welcomed a peace treaty between our peoples long before this. We need the numbers." Now more than ever, Benjen thought sadly. While the Wall remained strong and their numbers decent enough overall, they had still been hammered in that last battle.

The order of the Ardent Defender had been smashed, losing more than two thirds of its members. House Mormont had lost fully half of its complement on the Wall, and the cavalry groups sent up to the Wall and added to the men of the Order that had turned away the wildlings who had begun to scale down the back of it had lost men as well. And the Night's Watch had lost practically two-thirds of their men in Shadow Tower and Westwatch was down to a bare two score.

"However, if you want peace with us you'll have to learn our ways." Benjen went on, knowing that would be a sticking point for the Northerners who were not among his brothers. "There will be no more raiding, no more internecine warfare. You will now longer be able to take anything you wish from someone who isn't strong enough to defend it as you have before, and that definitely includes women."

"You may keep your religion and even your courting rights amongst yourselves. However you will also have to pledge your oaths to that of the Lord Commander of the Wall to obey the laws of the land."

More than one wildling leader gritted their teeth at that and the young woman clenched her fists hard. Her voice however was still controlled as she replied. "You ask much."

"You have cost us much both in this war and over the years." said Harrion harshly. "There are mountain clan men up there who simply want to wipe you out, and most of the men of House Umber and even my own House would gladly help them," he said pointing at the men of House Karstark who were with him. Frankly they all knew that Mors would probably cause trouble down the line about this, but the number of men that this could bring it to the Wall's defense would be worth it.

Val looked at her fellows, and only one of them nodded. The other ones shook their heads angry at the fact that they'd have to give up practically everything that made them wildlings if they agreed to Benjen's demands. One of them put it into words shouting angrily "Never! We'll never kneel to Kings or give up the Free Folk way!"

"Then you can die here." said Kyle Conton, moving forward to stand beside Benjen angrily. "I'll be honest, I don't want to offer this to you, but Benjen and the others are right we could use even more numbers on the Wall than we have. What we've learned about the threats coming, the White Walkers and their undead allies, that's enough to chill any man's bone no matter how brave. But if you don't agree, if you can't speak for the majority of your people and keep them in line, then you're more trouble than you're worth."

Val chopped her hand, cutting off the other wildlings angry retort. "We will talk about it amongst ourselves and our people. We will return apart under the white flag once a decision is reached."

"Very well." Benjen said with a nod. "But do not tarry long. The threat to both our peoples is too strong and too powerful for us to afford you overmuch time."

OOOOOOO

Theon felt as dried out and week as a-day-old kitten as he blearily opened his eyes. The torches were out, and Elima was nowhere to be seen which considering how weak he felt was a mercy. What the hell happened? Blue light, did I really see that? Theon knew what that light entailed, he had seen it before in the battle against the wight's assault on the Wolfsworn. Is that, was that… no, that's impossible, White Walker's can't cross the ocean, it's Impossible!

But, but what else could it be? Theon didn't want to think about it, but he had to try and deal with what might well be a major threat. He then began to look around him wildly. Have to get away, have to go! Rouse the men!

He tried to move, but it took all of his effort just lift one hand up to scrabble at the edge of the bed the two of them had been using. But Theon didn't give up, dragging himself out of bed and slowly pulling on his clothing. He forbore to put on his armor, two weak to put up with its weight. Once he was bundled up, he slowly began to ease himself out of the bed reaching down to pick up his bow and quiver, nearly collapsing for a moment under even that little weight.

All was silent and still as he made his way out of the room. Something was wrong, something above and beyond that woman possibly being a White Walker. There were no people in sight, not one. None of his men, none of the Skagosi women, or their prisoners.

Warily Theon stalked through the longhouse's main hall, keeping his back to one of its walls, the wall that didn't have any rooms connected to it. He eyed every shadow, every corner and inch of the open hall, an arrow fitted to his bow while his body slowly began to regain its strength.

He made it to the doorway without incident, and looked out into the village beyond. But again there was no one there, it was as silent as the grave under the fool moon above, and Theon shuddered. Those women, with their eyes covered like that, could they have been wights? He shuddered, swallowing back bile at the idea, but then turned from a sound behind him.

Elima stood there, naked as the day she was born. Even though her eyes glowed and Theon could now see that her ears were too long, her face too angular to truly be that of a human, Theon still had to fight down a rush of desire at the sight. She spoke in some tongue that Theon didn't follow, raising her hand to him. The end of it glowed, and Theon swiftly raised his bow and fired.

The woman stared in shock, but the arrow didn't do any damage. It smacked into the skin of her chest and shattered as if it had been frozen through and through, but the sound of it carried throughout the village's unnatural silence. The woman laughed, then said in common. "Strong, strong you are, but if not turned you be, then die you will and be servant."

"Over my dead body!" Theon growled, backing away and putting another arrow to his bow this time aimed for her eye. Even if the damn arrow shatters again it'll cause some pain at least won't it?

The woman cocked her head, then laughed musically, but it wasn't happy sound, rather it was cold and dark a sinister sort of mocking happiness. "That the idea!" She said in common again them continued to laugh high and cold.

Glancing all around Theon could now hear the sound of movement, and for a moment he hoped it was the men of his army roused from whatever unnatural sleep had been placed on them. And it had been, but it was the kind of sleep no one wouldever wake from again. He stared aghast at Sigmund walking towards him from a hut, his eyes glowing dull blue in the dark.

From beyond Sigmund near the entrance to the village the men that had slept outside who had supposed to be on guard came walking into the village. All of those men had visible wounds, and were very obviously dead whereas the ones coming towards him from the village's huts didn't. But they were still just as dead as those that had been on guard.

Theon took one look around, then quickly turned raising his bow and firing at the White Walker. The arrow flew through the air swiftly but she caught it right before it would've impacted her face, the speed of her catch astonishing. The woman laughed and tossed the arrow aside, but Theon had already turned away, racing through the village.

The wights were slower than he was, and he cut several of them out of his way even though they had been his own man the day before, cutting at their hands or ducking underneath and cutting a their legs to put them on the ground as he raced on towards the palisade. There Theon leaped up, grabbing the top of the slim walkway and lifting himself up with a gasp of effort.

He was still quite weak from whatever the woman had tried to do him, but he was a Wolfsworn, and had endurance and strength beyond that of normal men. That was the only reason Theon was still alive, and he knew it.

Once on the parapet Theon threw himself over the top of it, climbing down swiftly. But by the time he reached the bottom the guards had turned from where they had begun to enter the village and were moving along the palisade towards him, with Terrell in their lead. Theon ignored them, racing on towards the Woodlands away from where the battle had occurred, hoping to circle around before heading back towards the fort by the shore.

The woman watched him go from the palisade wall, having reached it even faster than Theon had. She watched him go, a thin cold smile on her lips as she laughed then she turned northward, closing her eyes for a moment.

Several days later Theon hid himself among the trees high up in one of the branches, staring in shock at the fort. It's gates were open, and Theon could see several men there, but they weren't men any longer. Their eyes, when they turned towards the forest where he was hiding, were bright blue. The White Walker's minions had gotten there before him.

The boats, the ships are my only hope!

Several hours later Theon once again was hiding himself staring, appalled toward the ships. All of them were there, but they weren't going anywhere. The water around them had frozen, Theon didn't know how thick it was, but he could see it creeping up the side of the ships.

And on those ships was another White Walker, a woman just like the last one, so alike in appearance they looked like identical twins. She stood with one of the captains of the ships, their arms around one another as they whispered something to one another and the woman led him off. Nearby several other men Theon recognized as the captains of the other ships also stood or leaned against the masts of the ship, their eyes somehow vacant.

Just then behind him Theon heard a sound, and he turned quickly, his bow raised, his second to last arrow fitted to the string. From out of the woods all around him came wights, some of his former men and some Skagosi.

"Curse you!" Theon growled, raising his bow and firing at the man. His arrow took one of them in the eye, flinging his body backwards with the force of the blow before he turned, running out onto the shore. Dozens of men from those boats looked on at him, all of them with the same dull blue eyes. But Theon wasn't making for the ships.

No, he was making for one of the rowboats that had been left on the shoreline. He grabbed it, lifting it up over his head and then began to step out onto the ice. Gingerly he made his way across towards where he could see the ocean beyond the frozen shoreline, while behind him the wights chased after him.

Theon stumbled a few times, the ice creaking alarmingly underneath him. But his pursuers had far more trouble with their footing, and were unable to follow him fast enough to catch up before he reached the waters.

Once there Theon through the rowboat into the water where it splashed. He was just about to jump into it when something impacted his shoulder from behind.

He turned, seeing the white walker woman from the boat standing there, a bow of some kind of black wood or steel in her hands, and she smirked maliciously at him. Reaching back he wrenched the arrow out of his shoulder, staring at what looked like a shard of ice used as an arrowpoint before tossing it aside and falling into the rowboat.

"Not this time bitch, gah!" The rowboat rocked under him, and he nearly blacked out with the pain of his wounded shoulder, but he kept conscious through sheer force of will grabbing at the oars. "You'll not have me, not today, not ever!" Grasping the two oars he began to pull strongly on them, pushing the boat away from the shoreline and the ice.

OOOOOOO

"Ranma wants me to allow Sansa to go south after everything that has happened?! No!"

"Calmly Catelyn." Eddard said holding up his hands pacifically. "You have to admit it makes good solid sense. Having one of our children reign in Riverrun is simply following the line of succession. Ranma could've made it his new capital I suppose, but I think he's got other plans." In fact Eddard knew he did: two capitals, one for winter and one for summer, though how realistic that was Eddard had no idea.

"I understand that it makes political sense." Catelyn said her voice anangry growl that would've sent Shaggydog running before going on almost desperately. "But it doesn't make sense to me, and I doubt Sansa would like to head south again either. Not after the events of King's Landing"

Eddard wasn't so certain about that. While Sansa had enjoyed being back in Winterfell at first, he had seen that had waned slowly. At first it was because so many of her siblings were gone and being reminded of the times she had spent here with her dead friend, Jeyne Poole. Then, even after she had made new friends, she seemed bored, and rather irritable at times about how little she had to do here.

It was as if Sansa had been forced back into a mold that she no longer fit. She had grown up on the trip into a fine young lady but there was no place for her in the power structure here in Winterfell. Lady Catelyn was the lady of the castle, and truly didn't need any help in that area, while Eddard (and Bran technically) handled everything else with maester Luwin and the Master-at-Arm's aid.

Instead Sansa filled up her time with work on various knitting projects. She had created several dozen scarfs, a few heavy, warm cloaks, and even gloves, all of them intricate, and all of them including something personal to the individual. Lord Glover's cloak for example had a picture of a town centered on a cloak of blue and brown, and Lord Manderly's gloves were pure white with fur lining the interior, and the image of a white buttress on the back of them.

Yet really, there was no place for Sansa in the current family/power structure, but in Riverrun she would have to grow into many new duties. He said so aloud and Catelyn frowned at him. Then she sighed. "I'm not going to win this, am I?"

"I'm afraid so my dear." Said Eddard, kissing her gently on a cheek hoping to soften her somewhat. It didn't work and she pulled away from him slightly. "But you don't have any issue with the two young men that will be sent to escort her?"

"No." said Catelyn shaking her head. "Those make a good solid sense. I doubt that Edd will be able to win Sansa's heart, they've been around each other enough that I think Sansa knows what she be getting into with him, and he isn't really her type. Young Ben however, he could be a different story. And reading between the lines I think Ranma understands that too. Tying our house to the Blackwoods makes excellent sense and I think it could become a love match at some point."

And with Edd defending her I have no fear of Sansa's safety. Catelyn thought to herself, a thought that Eddard shared. It would be a very brave and incredibly foolish group of bandits that tried to attack a party with a Wolfsworn among them.

"I'm just not happy about another one of our children leaving home." She said almost plaintively, crossing the small distance between them and leaning against Eddard's shoulder as she sat down, sharing his warmth for a moment.

"All children need to leave home love, and you can tell that Sansa is ready. She'll love her life in Riverrun, and I think she will do magnificently as Lady Tully." Eddard replied quietly, kissing her cheek gently once more, happy that this time she did not pull away.

Catelyn nodded morosely, still not happy about it but understanding her husband's point.

The next day when told of the news, both of her becoming Lady Tully of Riverrun and the fact that two suitors were coming up to escort her south, Sansa was both sad and ecstatic. She was sad that she was leaving the North so soon, but happy to becoming a lady on her own. Sansa had quickly become tired of having nothing to do but her sewing yet again, she enjoyed creating clothing but it wasn't something she wanted to make a career out of. Not when her mother had trained her so long to be a lady of the realm, and after her own experiences, both good and bad.

And while she had never met this Brynden Blackwood, what her older brothers message about him said sounded promising. I've always wanted a prince, a knight in shining armor. But then I learned that my prince was a monster, and my brother more of a knight than any other.

Now, now I think all I want is a kind, gentle man, and this Brynden sounds the sort. What did Ranma say 'he might not have the martial abilities of your knightly ideal sister, but he has the skills with song and poem.' Hehehehe, that sounds like fun, though I'll have to see for myself. And I also like the fact that I will be the one choosing between them. Heh, I wonder what Ranma would do if I told them either pressured me? Not that Eddie is likely to even try.

Eddie… Sansa knew Edd, and trusted him to protect her, though she honestly wondered why he was being considered as a candidate for her hand, after all he was practically family anyway. And he's a little too wild and unrefined for my tastes. I mean, Eddie's nice, and he has a… interesting sense of humor, but he likes to play with fire far too much, and I have to say I can't see him being happy to live in the Riverlands.

Still, I will have to give him due consideration for my hand, if only to be fair. Still, I wonder why him and not someone closer, like one of the Glovers? Is it just an age issue?

But then Sansa realized it might be a nod to the Northern houses, since both her father and Ranma, the heir, hadn't married a northern house. She said so aloud to her mother and added, "You realize mother that both Rickon and Bran will need to marry into northern houses to further solidify relations between us all?"

Catelyn looked at her daughter somewhat sadly. That comment showed a level of political acumen that she had not associated with Sansa before this, but it showed that her daughter had truly grown out of Catelyn's own image of her. "Yes, that is so. I have already thought about what houses would make good matches for them, but for now let us talk about Riverrun. As Lady Tully you will have…"

OOOOOOO

Ranma and Daenerys returned to the army a few hours after the Old Gods visions had ended, having stayed on the island to have an argument. It wasn't a shouting match. It was simply an argument, two very intelligent and forceful personalities clashing about what they felt they needed to do from here on.

Daenerys understood how important the threat coming from the Lands of Endless Winter was, and was perfectly willing to send forces North to bolster the Northern forces that had stayed behind, even if this left them shorthanded to face the threats down here. However, she was just as firm on the fact that Ranma personally could not go: he was their best military commander and her brother was still out there.

She knew she couldn't command the army, and had misgivings about the lords that made up that Army. They were fine fellows, excellent small unit commanders or even commanding units in large scale battles, but not general material. If Jon was still with the Army, Daenerys would've been satisfied with him staying behind, but as it was they needed Ranma right where he was.

She was equally adamant that Ranma and their army could not afford to have their movements so controlled by the timeframe that would allow them to return to the North within the two months.

While Daenerys convinced Ranma of the first point, she could not convince him of the second, and found herself swayed by his point of view. They also argued about Ranma's decision to send men north now, where they reached a compromise.

The next day Ranma spent the morning staring out across the lake considering plans, discarding plans, thinking of travel times, and cursing himself for a damned fool for having sent Jon off as he did. It made sense at the time, and with the news that there was an army from Dorne ravaging the Stormlands it might prove strategically important. But right now, it was hampering his choice of strategy greatly.

"Deep thoughts for this early in the morning." Said a feminine voice from behind him, and he turned to see Myrcella and Daenerys standing there. It had been the younger woman who had spoken and she smiled when Ranma turned to them.

Ranma smiled back widely leaping to his feet and moving to engulf her in a hug. He whispered into her ear. "I'm so glad that you pulled through Merry! My world would've become a much darker place without you."

Myrcella flushed, not at the hug but at the emotion in Ranma's voice. Out in the open like this he couldn't say that he loved her, but the meaning still came her Daenerys smiled, putting her arms around both of them and the three of them stood there for a moment.

Eventually however Myrcella pushed him away. "None of that. What were you thinking about so hard?"

"Options, idiotic ideas, and time, time, time ask me anything but time!" Ranma growled.

"Have you come to any decisions yet?"Daenerys asked.

"Not happy ones, no. I don't want to face a strategist, a commander like Stannis with this time limit hovering over my head, you were right about that Dae. And we're not even certain where your brother is yet, so planning for that is tough as hell."

That wasn't to say Ranma had no ideas about how to go about it. Stannis was too linear, too controlling. Causing enough chaos and pulling his attention this way and that was a possible strategy, but it would take too long to set something like that up.

"I take it you're fact-finding mission went well then?" Myrcella asked cautiously looking between the two of them. Daenerys had not talked much when she joined Myrcella in their bedroll the evening before, simply holding the younger girl against her and falling asleep quickly.

"I got a lot of information yes, but none of it was very helpful." Ranma growled again.

While Daenerys simply hummed in agreement, leaning her head against his shoulder the sound sent a little shiver of excitement up and down Myrcella's spine. Ranma looked at her thoughtfully, shaking his mind free of his worries for a moment. "Are you sure you're all right? I know, um, I mean the healers, they did tell you…" He paused unsure how to word it.

"That I won't be able to have children, yes I know." Myrcella sighed, looking away for a moment before turning back. "I can't say that it doesn't hurt knowing I won't be able to be a mother at some point in the far future, but it doesn't hurt as much as I think it should be." She smiled up at Ranma, all her love for him in her eyes. "In a way, it removes a final barrier. Giving your official stance on my birth Ranma, there would have been massive political pressure on me to marry. Now," She shrugged then smiled happily. "Now I can be whatever I wish to be."

Ranma looked around them then gazed at Fenris who had followed Myrcella and Daenerys to the shoreline, using the direwolf's senses for a moment to see if there was anyone nearby. Assured that there wasn't Ranma reached down and gently traced his fingers down Myrcella's face, while Daenerys once more put her arms around the young girl. "And what exactly do you want to be?"

Myrcella's voice was a whisper, yet there was so much emotion it caused both of her listeners to shiver. "Yours. Yours always and forever, yours in any way I can be."

Daenerys smiled. Leaning down she kissed the girl lightly on the lips. "And so you will be Myrcella Baratheon, so you will be."

She leaned back, allowing Ranma to lean down in turn to kiss Myrcella on the lips, not allowing the girl to deepen it before pulling back. "None of that." he said smiling faintly. "We'll have more than enough time for that the rest of our lives Merry, but you're still not fully healed."

"Seven-damned teases, the both of you." Myrcella said smacking Ranma lightly on the chest before she burrowed deeper into Daenerys's side. "Seriously though, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to have to share what I've seen with my commanders, and hope that someone else has a bright idea. Because I haven't thought of any just yet."

Later that day Ranma was true to his word, sharing why he had gone out to the Isle of Faces, and the vision the old gods sent him with the lords of his army. Lord Blackwood and the other Old God worshipers were frowning angrily, worry and fear on their faces. They understood what a big step this was for the Old Gods, and the Northerners in particular understood the nature of the threat that was coming.

On the other hand the Seven worshipers among his commanders looked askance at Ranma's news. Yet even they were prepared to accept it given the rumors that the septons had shared in Harroway, what they were concerned about was where the visions came from rather than their content.

Greatjon put all their concerns into words. "This is big news lad and I understand your desire to head north as quickly as possible, but two months? It would take the army a month on the road just to reach the Neck, what with the Riverlanders unable to keep up with us hardy Northerners." He smirked at Lord Blackwood who rolled his eyes at the other man but did not rise to the challenge.

"My son Harrion is on the Wall." Said Lord Karstark his face and voice like stone, his eyes almost challenging. "I trust him and the others there and as much as I also want to be in the North Ranma, we simply can't just leave Stannis and the other threads here the South to fester."

"Regardless of your opinions my Lords, the fact remains that we must be in the North in two month's time. Our forces there might be able to hold off until then, but not after. I have to trust that the Old Gods would not have sent me that part of the vision if it wasn't certain."

"You're not going to budge his mind on this my Lords." Daenerys said smiling whimsically and taking Ranma's hand in hers pulling it up to her mouth to kiss that Palm and gently. "Trust me, I tried to most of last night and didn't get anywhere. If I, with my powers of persuasion can't change his mind, none of you have anything that is going to do the same."

There was some muffled laughter that, and Greatjon in particular guffawed loudly slapping his thigh. With the mood of the discussion now light and Daenerys went on. "With that in mind Ranma, what are you going to send north now?"

"The Cerwyn Pike regiment, and two-thirds of the cavalry from the north, along with the prisoners heading north including Jaime though they'll have to be watched." Ranma said crisply.

Jaime was still in chains and would remains such until he arrived on the wall where he would become Jeor and Tyrion's problem. Cersei was still lost in her own mind, only kept alive by a servant feeding her occasionally. But Lord Serret would remain a prisoner of the army. Politically he was too important to send to the Wall, and honestly as far as Ranma was aware the only crime, if it could be called that, to lay at the old man's feet would be some of the measures he took to control the populace of King's Landing during the siege.

"We've gained a major cavalry force from the Riverlands and House Tully raised its own pike regiment, so we can make good the loss. Those light and heavy cavalry might be very useful in the North, and I don't think any more pike regiments have been raised just yet." Ranma went on.

Neither of the two northern pike regiments had taken enough losses to mention, not in battle or, like the rest of the army, from disease, thanks to Ranma and Merry's planning. The light cavalry had taken a pounding under Ranma's baiting of Tywin, and again under Brynden, but there were still a little over a thousand of them. The heavy cavalry of the North had lost near to three-hundred men all told throughout the campaign. But with House Manderly's heavy cavalry added to that of the other houses, they still amounted to a little over a thousand two-hundred men.

There was a moment's thoughtful pause, than Wendel Manderly spoke up. "My father intended to raise two pike regiments from the smallfolk of White Harbor over time, though obviously I don't know how far along that process is. From my own observation though, those pikes are as deadly against infantry as they are against cavalry. The wounds pikes cause can be horrible. But against wights or White Walkers?"

"Daenerys and I sent a raven to Dragonstone to order as much dragonglass as we can get our hands on, that works on both White Walkers and their wights. And fireworks on wights just as well, which I'll be certain to tell all of my unit commanders before we send them off."

"I'll send Timot Hammerhand up as commander until they reach the Neck, where he'll hand over command to Lord Reed, as well as a message from me to muster his men and head north with them, though I hope he's already begun his muster. They should be at Moat Cailin within a month and Winterfell a little under two weeks later, unless weather is badly against them." Ranma went on.

All of the lords nodded understanding, though the idea of sending a little over three-thousand men north when they had two enemy armies to deal with would have struck most as insane. But Ranma and Daenerys had won a lot of respect from these men over the past few months, and all of them knew the aid might well be necessary in the North.

"That's all we can do for now." Greatjon said shrugging his massive shoulders.

While messengers were sent to prepare the units chosen for the march as well as to find Timot, Daenerys turned to Alayaya. Even as she did so Daenerys had to suppress a deep pang of grief at seeing who wasn't sitting beside her. Domeric's death was a wound that had yet to heal, but she could not afford to let her grief impact her ability to think. "Alayaya, what do you have for us?"

"There's been a fleet seen in the Bay of Crabs your Majesty." said Alayaya. "Many of them were flying the three headed dragon of House Targaryen."

"Heading in or out of the Bay, and how far in?" Ranma asked intently

"The fishermen of Harroway couldn't say." Alayaya said with a shrug. "If I was there to question them personally that might be different, but one of my agents there sent that rumor by rider, and he only caught up to us this very morning. Far out I would assume, at the edge of the Bay of Crabs.

Ranma frowned. "Could he be making for Gulltown?"

"If he is won't find much aid in the Vale." Alayaya replied shrugging her shoulders. "I had time to talk to merchants who trade with Gulltown before the army left, and the news out of the Vale is that it's sharply divided at the moment. There are Houses that want to continue to sit on the sidelines and technically obey your aunt's commands, and there are others who want to act in some fashion, many of whom want to depose her entirely but don't have any real plans beyond that. We haven't received any response from Ser Breakstone, and frankly at this point it's doubtful that he could get through to us anyway."

"True enough." Ranma frowned. "Still, that's important to know, thank you." The beautiful ex-courtesan nodded her head, even while the other Lords all nodded respectfully toward her. All of them knew that with the death of Domeric Alayaya was now the head of their spying efforts, and that made her words extremely important even to those who still looked at her askance thanks to her previous profession.

Ranma stared down at the map on the small camp table, rubbing at his ponytail thoughtfully. There was an inkling of an idea in his mind but he couldn't quite bring it to the fore.

After a moment staring down at the map herself Daenerys broke the thoughtful silence. "We need to concentrate our thoughts on Stannis even with Alayaya's news. To that end, what can he know about us, and more importantly what doesn't he know?"

She looked around at the Lords who pondered the question, before Jason spoke up staring at the map himself now. 'He's not within sight of our scouts just yet, which means he isn't in the Riverlands, though he'll probably be marching along the Kingsroad as fast as possible. So we don't know where his proper position is, but I can't think of any way that he would know where we are either unless he has his own spy network, and there was never any talk of that."

Alayaya piped up again. "I doubt more than one in a thousand smallfolk would be willing to pass on any news to anyone in Stannis' army either. They all hate him, no they loathe the man. There's not going to be any kind of uprising, but even here, even from the woodsmen who stayed near Harrentown even after its destruction I've heard rumors they call him the Flame Fucker."

There was a laugh, but Jason looked at her quizzically. Alayaya saw his glance and understood the unspoken question, woodsmen were not the most open individuals to strangers after all. In response she merely stretched her back a little and working her shoulders, bringing attention to her body. A pang of grief went through her as she did, knowing how often she had done the same thing to Domeric, showing him how she always seemed to be able to get people to talk to her.

With a shake of her head Alayaya banished her grief for her friend and went on. "I don't think we're going to see some kind of general uprising my lords, none of the smallfolk are brave enough to face Stannis' men in battle. But they won't help him, certainly not with passing on information."

"Do not discount the Red Witch, good lady." said Ehric the septon, stepping forward from where he had been standing at the back of the group. All eyes turned to him and he frowned. "The Red Witch is known to advise Stannis my Lords, and she is a magic user. What can one such as that do? And if the old gods could send his Majesty visions, could not her heathen god send such to her?"

"Scary thought." Ranma said still not looking up from the map.

"But she's not a fighting man." Rickard said slowly scratching at his beard. "Would the Witch understand the importance of some of the changes you've made to our army, Ranma? The heavy armor of the pikemen, the fact that they move in formation, their training. Unless some of the survivors from the battle at the Red Fork can get back to him somehow, that could still be a secret."

"True uncle." said Ranma looking up now with a faint smile in space. "And an excellent point. Especially if the Reach is now backing him as Lord Ashford told us." Ashford and his men were still technically prisoners, but all of them had been given their parole for now, and he had been very open about the events near King's Landing.

"Truly Lord Mace has gone mad." said Ehric, shaking his head. "To use the Lady Margaery so is a travesty."

Ranma nodded, though inside he was hoping that Mace at least would not die if they faced Stannis. He really did not want to know what Margaery would do if his army was the one that killed her father. Whatever her opinion about Mace's actions, he didn't doubt that she still loved him in some fashion.

"We need to reinforce Maidenpool." Daenerys said shaking her head. "I agree that Stannis is the greater threat my Lords, but my brother will make for Maidenpool soon enough."

"Was he one of the Lords that passed on information to you and your brother when you were in Essos?" asked Alayaya.

"I never knew the names of the lords who were passing on information, just that they had aided our family in the past. But having met the man, I have to say even if he wasn't, Lord Mooton's spine would need stiffening. While his words were flattering, they were just that, words, neither he nor Lord Blackwell have sent us any of the men they promised, and his family was one of those that lost a lot of their power for backing my family in the war against their rightful Lord Paramount."

"Are you sure of that?" Ranma asked suddenly, looking up once more for the map.

"Positive." Daenerys replied firmly.

"What was your impression on Lord Butterwell?"

Daenerys paused for a moment, thinking. "I did not interact with him as much as I probably should have to get a real reading on him." she said prevaricating slightly before going on. "I think that while his family has routinely and traditionally followed Mooton, the current lord Butterwell has ambition."

She paused again, tapping her fingers thoughtfully as she remembered something else she had heard. "He's also a rather bitter young man. The scuttlebutt I heard was that he was promised to the daughter of House Deddings, who was raped and murdered by the Westerlanders after her family's military strength was wiped out at the Red Fork. Why?"

"Does anyone know what the state of his castle is?" Ranma asked, not answering her question just yet.

The Riverlords looked at one another, and Silas eventually spoke up for the mall. "From all reports it's a smallish castle, but very well made and it has a moat along with a well. Those two things made Lord Tully and Lord Robert pass over the place during the war, though the family itself has never recovered from the loss of influence it took during the Blackfyre Rebellions."

Tytos nodded agreement. "They used to have a much larger castle called Whitewalls, but it along with much of their land was taken from them at that point. That castle represents a lot of their remaining capital from that time to now, they don't have any heavy cavalry or any horse at all really because of that investment."

"The castle itself is a defensible one, I want to be clear on that."

"Yes it is. It could only be taken by siege I think, unless of course the other side has an equivalent of your Wolfsworn." Silas smiled thinly. "I don't think anyone here believes that, correct?"

From where she was leaning up against Fenris behind Ranma and Daenerys, Merry winced. "The Shadow Warriors my Lords. They could cause tremendous harm in any kind of battle, let alone one inside a castle."

"Not with us there they couldn't." said Smalljon, smiling thinly. For just a brief moment his fingers glowed blue. "Leave the Shadow Warriors to the Wolfsworn my Lords, we'll handle them."

"And it's been proven that they are susceptible to Dragon fire." said Daenerys smiling equally thinly.

"In that case," Ranma murmured thoughtfully, pulling the discussion back to the topic on hand. "Maybe we shouldn't send reinforcements to Maidenpool at all. I think we're missing a major point here my Lords."

"And that is husband?" Daenerys asked, looking at him her eyes narrowing as she wondered where Ranma was going with this.

"These are not two Allied armies we have to face, these are two enemies not just of us but of each other. And Mooton is what, a week and a half journey from the edge of the Riverlands?"

Less for our army, and that's another advantage we have: speed. Even with the pikes, we can move faster than any other army in Westeros. Heh. And I also have the surprise from Seagard, Fenris, and commanders I trust to act on their own, I doubt Stannis or Viserys can say the same. And neither of them will want to drag this campaign out, each for his own reasons, which means they can be tricked into coming after us directly rather than strike at Harroway.

Stannis will want to deal with us as quickly as possible, to use the autumn to solidify his position as much as possible this side of the Neck, and I he'll want to do something to the Ironborn, even if the Reach has already assembled an army to do so. He'll need a lot of time to solidify his rule and convince the smallfolk to overlook his destruction of King's Landing. As for Viserys, he doesn't seem the type to think in terms of long campaigns, and the Dorne aren't suited for warfare in autumn, let alone winter.

"Something like that." said Lord Blackwood now staring at Ranma thoughtfully.

"Good." Ranma moved his fingers down the map, moving them this way and that as he thought. Then he looked at his wife again. "I'm afraid I don't know anything about the Crackclaw Point Houses, are you certain they'll follow you rather than your brother?"

"From all reports those houses have always been loyal to my house and bent the knee only unwillingly to Robert at all. They weren't weakened as the rest of the Crownlands in the war simply because they weren't as strong forehand. As for them following me rather than my brother that depends on what rumors have reached them. I think they'll choose to follow me, simply because at the moment I have the strongest history of victory and the strongest backing."

Ranma stared into her eyes for a moment then nodded again. "Good. I think however that we'll need to send them another message, along with an offer."

"Are you going to share what you've been thinking about now?" she asked sharply.

Ranma laughed. "Sorry, just working it all out in my mind. I think we're going to have to make our enemies do the work for us my Lords."

"You're talking about getting Viserys and Stannis to fight one another aren't you?" said Lord Blackwood frowning. "That would be an excellent idea, and possible given Stannis' stubbornness and the hatred Viserys apparently holds for all things Baratheon as you pointed out on many occasions, your Majesty." He said nodding his head at Daenerys. "But I don't know if it's possible with someone as cagey as Stannis."

"He'll have to fight Viserys at some point so he'll probably go along with it, and we can turn it to our advantage somehow." Ranma said. "To that end, I'm going to split off the northern clansmen that we've got with us. Daryn, I'm going to put you in charge of them. Your job will be to head towards Maidenpool, not to engage any large force, but to wipe out any scouting… or foraging force you can."

Daryn nodded. "You want me to blind the dragon and make him hungry? That's fine, I can do that so long as he actually makes port there."

"He will." Daenerys said resignedly. "The moment he knows I'm here, and he might even know that Stannis is on his way. His pride and fury will force him to come here as quickly as possible. Unless he's idiotic enough to think that his one dragon can turn the tide in a sea battle against the Royal Navy."

There was more than one headshake from the Lords around them and Jason put it into words. "Not a chance. Stannis will have left Seaworth in charge, and while that man might have been a smuggler at one point, he is a master when it comes to sea battles. And the Royal Navy was made into a juggernaut before and during the Greyjoy rebellion. Give Stannis his due, he was the one that pushed for that, and it might serve us all well now."

Tytos was less certain. "Viserys and his dragon could possibly wreak horrible casualties on the fleet, fire on a ship is the deadliest of foes, even normal fire."

Daenerys shook her head. "Viserys is not so stupid as to think his dragon alone could win him the throne. Even while he was destroying the royal navy, his own would be mauled, and with it any chance of winning against us or Stannis. Viserys is also arrogant enough to think that if he beats Stannis and us, the royal navy might capitulate entirely."

Ranma held up a hand, forestalling further comment. "Well if we can expect Viserys to arrive on time, then we also need to blind Stannis and his force. Meera, Lord Blackwood, you two are in charge of that. Whatever force you need you can have." That would amount to some of the men that Meera had brought with her from the Neck, half the remaining scouts from the army, and all of house Blackwood's men as well several hundred archers from the North.

"Other than that, I'm going to send a force of men down to aid Lord Butterwell in the defense of their castle." Ranma looked at the Lords then nodded at Tristan Ryger. "Lord Ryger, would you be willing to take command of that force?"

The younger man nodded, seeming proud of having a command given to him. That force would consist of the men of House Ryger and of House Wayn, the least trained force among the Riverlords, but one that was laden decently with archers so would be perfect for this mission.

With that Ranma stood up. "Let's get organized my Lords, above and beyond the forces being sent north, I want the rest of the army on the march by noon. We'll make for Duskendale for now. That will put us between the two opposing armies, and then we can move out of the way and let our enemies do our work for us."

End chapter

The little bit of lemon here between the White Walker and Theon was not marked because it was important to the plot, sorry to those who might have found it offensive. Theon's final fate is still unknown, he may live, he may not, we'll see.

The next chapter will be… interesting. I have to show Garlan assaulting the Ironborn, the campaign of the Four Armies, some bits and pieces from the North… eesh. Going to be interesting.

The first of the two new stories that I might take up as a third fulltime story will be up soon - A Fate Touched in Middle Earth.

But I had two questions for my reviewers about the other new story that was in the top four of the poll, Wizard of the Dead.

One, and I'd like an honest answer for this. How many people voted for it because of the inherently Ecchi/hentai nature of the universe? I'm all for the idea, heh, but I feel that in my first foray I overdid that aspect if anything.

And two, what would people think of the idea of using a much younger Harry, a prior to second year Harry say rather than after fourth year, as the main character? Magic can be such a game changer I'd want to limit its application somewhat, even in comparison to canon Harry who, let's face it, is a bit of a lazy ass. But there would be other issues involved in instituting that kind of age gap between the HOTD and HP characters, er… sort of along the lines of the Kanokon anime, only with a main character who has powers, and a libido...