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.

20. Chapter 20

I do not own ASoIaF or Ranma. You know how you can tell? Because I'm actually going to finish the story.

Would like to thank ultimaflare0 for his work as a beta on this, and Anthony444 for his irreplaceable aid in fact checking and plot points.

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Chapter 20 Winter's Grip, a Fulcrum's Effect

Lady Maege Mormont had not been idle since returning to her island after the War Council in Winterfell. First, she had gathered the heads of the families that resided on their island and informed them of events. Unlike other major Houses, House Mormont did not have minor houses under them, instead they had large powerful families, all of them intermarried to one another and to House Mormont, most of whom lived almost but not quite like smallfolk would elsewhere. Bear Island's population wasn't large, but they were a tight knit community, and a very martial one as well.

While a palisade was quickly raised around the scrub and broken stone scattered around House Mormont's longhouse and various other surprises built elsewhere, foodstuffs began to be prepared and set aside, until the longhouse had enough food within its walls to feed the entire population of the island for at least half a year. Then that palisade was reinforced with what stone they could move into position behind it, and arrows laid aside, fire arrows and regular arrows, as many of both kinds as could be made. So many that they had to be stored in several of the guest rooms in the longhouse rather than in the armory.

When the news of Skagos falling and its implications was sent to her from Winterfell along with the news of reinforcements being sent to her, Lady Mormont once again reacted forcefully and energetically. She ordered the islands small graveyard dug up and the bodies within burned, no matter how old or decayed they were. Bear island was small enough that it had only had that single graveyard, but it was still dirty, disgusting work, and the people on it had to be rotated off on practically a daily basis to make certain that no sickness or disease could spread from the bodies.

Maege also sent the old, lame and what few pregnant women were on the island back to Deepwood Motte. Anyone above the age of twelve that was strong enough to pull a bow however remained behind, man or woman. House Mormont had long prided itself in training its womenfolk in war, and that bore fruit now, allowing Bear Island to raise a force consisting of a little over 4000 men and women combined, where any other Great House would only have been able to field half of that if they were lucky from the same area.

The first reinforcements from House Glover arrived barely a week after the message from Winterfell. Maege greeted Robett Glover, the younger brother of Lord Glover, shaking the taller yet far less built man's hand firmly, so firmly the younger man winced. She noticed and was pleased, though did not show it on her face. "What've you brought me?"

"Around 600 men, the most my House can raise beyond those defending Deepwood Motte. My brother made the decision to not send his entire force to aid you, because he figured that the defense of the town was more important. After all, we don't know if the White Walkers will be able to send forces past Bear Island in the same manner they reached Skagos."

"Good." said Lady Mormont nodding brusquely. "We wouldn't've been able to house more men anyway. In fact, I sent word of that back to Winterfell, House Ryswell and House Tallhart's forces will be more use elsewhere."

That had been several days ago, and since then the temperature had dropped precipitously night after night, until it was so cold that the ocean around the island had begun to freeze. Even so Maege insisted on keeping patrols going along the shoreline. House Mormont had built several small but extremely well-made guard posts at the best places for ships to come ashore, each of which had enough wood to allow them to set up a signal fire which could be seen from further into the island, and the patrols were based out of these tiny forts.

It was the men from one of these which sounded the first alarm. Before the fire burned low Lady Mormont and more than it four-fifths of her forces of had gathered on that shoreline. Maege of course led the force, leaving her second eldest daughter Alysanne in charge of the defenses of their longhouse, intending to ask the scouts what they had seen personally. But when they arrived, that proved unnecessary.

Out in the ocean there was an island where there should not have been one. But it was not an island of stone, rock and sand. This island was ice, a massive mountain of ice cut away from the Frozen Shore or further north and sent out into the ocean. It rose out of the water at least twenty stories, it was difficult to tell from this distance, out of the ocean around it, and was even wider across. And it was slowly heading towards Bear Island.

I think we just solved the mystery of how the White Walker's got forces to Skagos, Maege thought grimly. This is a new trick, and one with a lot of longer-term consequences behind it. For now though, it gives me and mine something to hit at least. She'd nodded over to the patrolmen. "Good eyes, how long do you think we have until it reaches the shore?"

"They should be here by evening tide lady," said one of them.

She nodded brusquely then shouted orders. "You lot, dig some ditches and get some stakes ready. You forty, head back to the longhouse and grab as many torches and fire arrows as you can. I mean to see if we can see this attack off here and now."

That evening the iceberg did indeed smash into Bear Island's shore, causing a shivering shake to go through the feet of those waiting by the shore nervously. Now that it was so close, they could tell that the mountain of ice sloped gradually at first, and was quite wide too, about a bow's range along the edges. From there it had several large crevasses on the side of the main mountain of ice, which rose sharply from that point and then spread to either side out well beyond what they could discern in torchlight.

For a moment after that, the night was silent save for the crackling of the torches and the curses of a few men praying to the Old Gods for strength. Not for protection, not to save them, but to give them strength to do those tasks themselves. Such was the Northern way.

Then suddenly there was a keening horn blow from high above in the dark of the upper areas of the iceberg and hundreds of arrows sped out from the night above. At the same time a horde appeared around the edges of the iceberg from some hidden cavern the entrance of which could not be seen by the defenders current position.

The attackers looked like wildlings, Lady Mormont had seen more than a few in her time, while others looked to be clad in the remains of Night's Watch colors, though beyond that Maege could not tell anything of their origin in the light of the torches. But they weren't the source of the arrows which were hitting her line. That came from higher up the iceberg, from some hidden archers they couldn't see in the dark.

She'd already lost six or seven men to those, but the wights charging them were a greater threat. "Fire arrows on that horde!" She shouted, pointing with her sword at the oncoming wights. "Regular archers, see if you can do anything about those blasted arrows!"

Her orders were instantly obeyed, half the force of archers firing fire arrows at the oncoming horde. Given the fact their level of training varied wildly, their fire was noticeably sporadic. Yet at the same time at this range they could hardly miss. Indeed for a few moments as the battle began if an archer missed his or her target, they still hit some other wight.

At the same time the armsmen and levy forces of the island raced forward to take a position along the ditches. Many began to bang their shields, shouting battle cries more to get themselves psyched up for the battle than in any real hope that they would have any effect on the enemy's morale.

The other half of the archers, mostly House Glover men, fired up into the iceberg, raking its visible face from one edge to the other. They still couldn't see, the dark of the night was too oppressive for that, and their own night-sight was shot to hell because of the torches and fire arrows that were even now streaking into the attacking horde of wights.

This was telling, because they could not silence the arrows coming at them. Men continued to fall screaming, their bodies freezing and giving out even from arrow wounds that they could've should have survived otherwise. Dealing with these casualties tied up more and more men as the battle went on.

The horde of wights crashing into the ditches along the shoreline however had a much harder time of it. Men and women armed with long makeshift spears thrust out at them, while others, mostly those younger, threw burning faggots of wood over their heads to land among the horde. Fire arrows slammed into former wildling and Night's Watchman alike, causing them to go up like torches in the dark, screaming. It was the first noise they had made in the battle.

The wights spread in an effort to find a hole in the ditches, but that did not allow them to concentrate enough forces to burst through the defensive lines. Those ditches spread far enough to either side of where Lady Mormont was that they couldn't get around them without going into the water, which they seemed loath to do even here on the shoreline, where the water was slowly freezing into ice.

That was an interesting little fact that she made a note of, but then Maege roared, "Here We Stand!" charging forward and joining her men along the line as a renewed surge of wights struck the center of her defenses. After a few moments of getting her blade wet cutting dead wights into pieces, she retreated from the line, staring at the overall battle while more men moved forward, hurling the bits and pieces into the countless fires that had started up scattered around the battlefield.

The sniping from the iceberg was still going on, wreaking a toll on her men, but the force of wights was down to a bare handful, and as she watched the last of them fell struck by several fire arrows at once. There was a cheer of 'Here we Stand!', then the archers with fire arrows retargeted firing their arrows up at the ice. For a moment Lady Mormont thought they were trying to simply melt the massive edifice of ice, but then she shook that fancy off. No one was that stupid, they're just doing their part.

Yet the attacks from above continued unabated, and she scowled angrily. They didn't have any Valyrian blades here since Longclawwas with Jeor Mormont in Castle Black. Nor did they have any stock of dragonglass weapons. But right now, it looked as if that they were going to have to go in and dig out these White Walker's anyway.

Just as she thought that however more arrows began to fall, so many that it drove her forces out of the ditch and she cursed, knowing what that might mean. "Fall back! Fall back to the wood line!"

All around her men obeyed with alacrity, but hundreds of men went down from that sudden deluge of arrows. As they did Lady Mormont stared in astonishment at what only had to be undead giants suddenly lumbering out of a crevice in the iceberg, dozens of them. With them came what only could be a few white Walkers themselves. There were only a few of them, but their alien appearance was obvious even from here.

So that's the face of the enemy, Maege thought, before reaching down to grab up a fallen bow and a sputtering fire arrow. She pulled back on the strain, and let loose trying to hit one of the White Walkers.

One of the giants however lumbered in her arrows way just as she loosed, and it roared aloud in pain and fury, patting at the arrow in its chest. Unlike a wight however it didn't immediately combust. It was not made wholly from flesh magically revived from death, ice and stone were also part of its makeup. With this defense it was able to pat the fire out before surging on, roaring angrily.

Maege absently noted that too was a difference between these undead creations and simple wights. The wights made no sound as they charged only when they died. Indeed, their battle silence was one of the most unnerving things about them. But these things seemed to still have some life in them, or perhaps had been gifted with it rather than were simply extensions of their White Walker's will.

She fell back to the cover of the trees as the arrows from above continued to pepper the men around her, taking a heavy toll on the defenders as they continued to retreat. But Maege was still able to watch as the giants reached the ditches, smashing all the stakes aside before scrambling up easily over the ditches.

Scowling angrily Maege rallied the men nearest her with a single bellowed command, then pointed her sword back the way they had come. "One volley of fire arrows at our dead, then fall back!" Maege raised her voice as the men around her obeyed her order with alacrity, making certain all the men nearby could hear her. "Fall back, fall back to the longhouse!"

Knowing that controlling her people in this mad nighttime retreat through the woods and scrub of the island would be impossible Lady Mormont simply took to her own heels, running off as quickly as she can despite the armor she wore. She paused occasionally to shout encouragement and orders when she saw clumps of men around her gathering several hundred as the retreat went on through the night. Yet the dense scrub and forest of the island made any kind of organization for this maneuver impossible.

Even so her men were not fools, and that initial shout had been heard and passed on by most everyone on the battlefield. Rather than fight a losing the battle for the rest of the island against enemies they could barely see in the dark, Lady Mormont pulled back all of the defenders with her to the longhouse. She hoped that the cleared ground around it and the scattered cover would allow her archers to get the better of any White Walkers that tried to attack.

Maege was not the first to meet reach her family's seat, nor was she the last. But by the time the last straggler came in gasping and breathing loudly his breath visible over chapped, cracked and frostbitten lips, Lady Mormont had an estimate of the numbers.

She shook her head in dismay. Over 2,400 men lost already! Robett was missing, along with more than half of his men, and the losses among her people were atrocious, especially among the less experienced men and women of the levy forces. Though thankfully not the younger set who had, thanks to not wearing much armor, been able to retreat faster than the rest. That and the fact the attackers didn't seem to care about what targets they aimed at saved many of them.

But we'll probably see many of those dead soon enough, she thought grimly, ascending to the palisade around the longhouse as behind her along the roof of the longhouse and all around her archers refilled their quivers and set up braziers. Fifteen men on the longhouse roof also began to work on loading up a small catapult which had been built on top of it. Other men tossed rope ladders over the side of the longhouse and she nodded grimly. Good Alysanne, you listened! That meant the drop fall had been activated as she had ordered, which might help the longhouse protect itself if the palisade was lost.

The drop fall the longhouse used was somewhat similar in type, though Maege did not know it, to the one that House Stonegate used. But instead of simply dropping large rocks down to block the interior of a gateway, House Mormont's drop fall dropped a single gigantic piece of stone into a set recess into in the ground along grooves in the longhouse's thick outer wall. That piece of stone weighed so much that even Ranma, Jon and Smalljon combined would have had trouble lifting it. That, plus the groove and the recess it was set into meant no one could bring enough force to move it without shattering the stone walls of the longhouse and the stone floor as well.

While that thought was a comforting one it soon left Maege's mind as, cries from the watchers around her abounded. "Here they come!"

As Maege had feared first out of the trees were the wights, the men and women who'd fallen by the shoreline turned and sent against their still living brethren. More than one man choked back a sob as they saw a loved one, and a woman near Maege broke down entirely, shaking her head and sobbing. "No Bartran, no!"

"None of that!" Maege barked. Those aren't your loved ones out there any longer! They're simply wights now, their bodies turned to evil! Will you let those bastards use them so, dishonor their memory so?!"

The woman chocked back a sob, wiping a gloved hand over her eyes, but her tears had frozen where they fell down her cheeks. Thankfully she was able to wipe her eyes away and she stood up, thrusting a fire arrow into a nearby brazier and putting it to her bow. "Come on you cold fuckers, Here we Stand!"

"Here We Stand!" the roar went out all along the palisade, and the defenders fired. They fired off so many fire arrows that it lit the ground around the palisade.

The sternness of that response seems to take the attackers aback, and most of the new wights died in the semi-open ground around the palisade as their masters hesitated. When the giants came out into the scrubland that surrounded the longhouse they did so without any further cover from their people. Nor, thanks to the broken nature of the cover, could they bunch up en-masse or find adequate cover for their large bodies. Two of them died under half dozens of fire arrows impacting them almost all at once.

At that point at some unseen signal the others retreated back into the forest. Soon after that the ice arrows or whenever they were started to fall among the defenders, shot by White Walkers who had made their way forward, using the scattered cover to somehow made their way forward unseen. But the palisade gave enough protection from this assault. Moreover it gave the defenders the same height advantage the White Walkers had possessed at the shore.

Their returned fire actually started to force the attackers back. The fire arrows couldn't kill the White Walkers, and they lacked the dragonglass needed to penetrate the White Walker's armor. But enough fire arrows could apparently singe or injure the White Walkers, and they seemed much more conscious of their own lives than they were of their undead thralls.

Lady Mormont stayed on the wall throughout the night, hoping that the White Walker's had already lost too much of the strength they'd brought to the island to attack in force. As the sun rose, bringing with it the light and an end to the attack it seemed that was indeed the case. They still had those giants, so Maege wasn't about to become complacent, and she had no idea of their numbers, but it looked as if they'd be able to defend the longhouse. At least for now.

During the night Maege had taken the time to get an accurate number of the defenders left, and came away grimly satisfied. She still had a little over 2200 men and women, and she quickly organized them into four different sections. One section would be on guard, two sections sleep, and the fourth doing repair work, eating and simply having downtime. That group would rotate with the one on guard, then they would switch off with the other two.

Soon after that Maege left the wooden palisade, moving back to climb up one of the rope ladders with more effort than she would ever admit to, before nodding at her second eldest daughter. The two women shared a wordless hug there in the corridor leading up to the longhouses roof, before Alyssane straightened and moved around her mother, heading out to take over the defense during the day watch.

Maege looked after her for a moment, thinking of her, her two grandchildren, and her three other daughters. The only one of her family not present here was Dacey, who was serving in the Wolfsworn. She wondered for a moment if any of them would see the spring, then shook off her bleak thoughts, going in search of her House's maester.

Maester Feros was an old man of her father's generation, who had trained up two of the local boys and a local girl (despite all convention being against it) to help him watch the ravens now that he no longer could get around as well as he could, knowing that finding a new maester to serve House Mormont would be an impossible task. The three of them nodded at her as she came into his suite, though he simply turned his head to look at her through rheumy eyes. "I understand that the battle did not go well?"

"It went about as well as we could expect I think." Lady Mormont growled angrily. "I want a message sent to Winterfell and Deepwood. We can hold out here for now, but they're not to bother sending more aid to us unless they bring dragonglass!"

OOOOOOO

Their scouts of course spotted it first, their target, their goal, the place where their most hated enemies had lived for generations. While it might not be the most important in terms of strategic importance, or even defending the North from reinforcement from the rest of Westeros, it was important to the White Walkers because of what it represented. Because to them, Winterfell and House Stark represented their defeat.

Memories were long among their people, and the memory of their loss thousands of years ago, when they were turned back, pushed out of lands that were rightfully theirs, and then walled off like animals, burned in every one of them like the accursed fire burned in the earth itself. They didn't care to know much about their enemies, but the name House Stark, that they knew.

That was why the main strength of the force the White Walkers had been able to transport to Skagos was sent marching on a straight line to Winterfell from the moment they reached the shores of the Bay of Seals. No new Builder would rise, no new Winter King would beat them back, not this time, whatever the Old Gods hoped. With the humans so busy cutting down one another in the South, Winterfell would fall, and the true kings of winter would put their hands on the soul of the North and crush it utterly.

With the dragons flying overhead, and thousands of wights new torn from the earth along their route the army marched on to Winterfell.

OOOOOOO

Ranma had barely paused long enough to take a quick meal with Timot before racing on. It took him about a day to cross the Neck from there, and he arrived in the early morning dawn at Moat Cailin. He smiled gratefully when he saw the three manned towers of the ruins of the massive castle, knowing that he was about a little over two-thirds of the way home. His smile widened however when he saw the rampant lizard-lion on a field of green with an eye of red that signified Lord Reed was in attendance.

Shouts went up from the watchers on the towers as he came into sight, and Ranma chuckled as he saw more than one man visibly start at the sight of him, visible even from this distance. I wonder what the smallfolk will come up with to call my journey. The Wolfs Run, hmm sounds a little cowardly. The Kings Run, even worse. Either cowardly or a competition at a tournament. That's actually a tough one…

A moment later Ranma put those thoughts to one side as Lord Reed appeared, holding up his hand in token of greeting as he moved away from the doorway of one of the towers. Ranma slowed down, nodding his head at the older man. "Lord Reed."

"We were told you might be coming." The older man said without preamble, his low, rasping voice causing Ranma to smile fondly. "I've already gathered what I can of the Neck's forces. We're not the most numerous Houses your majesty, but all told I can field around 500 away from the Neck and the Moat. In total 900, I'll leave more than a hundred men to keep order in the Neck, and the rest will bolster the defense here at the Moat. But every man I've got are trained hunters, archers and all decent with their trident too."

"I thank you for that Lord Reed." Ranma said thankfully. "Though, how did you hear that I'd be coming? I can understand your mustering your forces, but not that part." Unless rumor really can fly faster than raven wings, that would be a little freaky frankly.

"My son." Lord Reed said nodding his head over to the tower he'd exited, where Jojen was making his own way forward. He stared blankly at Ranma, a thin almost unpleasant smile on his face. Jojen had hated and loved his ability to predict the future his entire life. He hated what it could do to his body at times when the visions came upon him suddenly. But he loved being able to tell the future like that, to see people and know their fates. It gave him a sort of power, one at odds with his small, somewhat weak body.

Lord Reed went on. "My son saw your arrival, he said that if you decided to 'run the earth' as he put it, then the North might have a chance. If you put all of your trust in wind and wave, then the heart of the North would fall before you got here."

"The heart of the North is a lot stronger than you give it credit for Jojen." Ranma said smiling thinly. "I don't doubt that the North would have been able to hold out even without me there for weeks if not months."

"The future is clouded." Jojen said, staring hard at Ranma. "The fulcrum must reach the place where it can tip the balance. If it cannot, the avalanche will start, and it will not stop. With every victory the avalanche will gain strength, until they can sweep all before it."

Ranma nodded biting his lip to keep from saying something really sarcastic. Wow, that's just really informative, not! Fucking prophecies. "I see." he said instead. "Thank you for that Jojen, I suppose."

With that he and a shake of his head Ranma turned back to Lord Reed, who was smiling somewhat blandly, realizing that Ranma didn't put much faith in his son's visions. Not that Reed blamed him at this point. Where before his son's visions would've been accurate if somewhat cryptic, these days even Jojen had trouble discerning what they were about, and their accuracy had also been failing badly.

"Tell me, do you have ravens here? Specifically one for Barrowton?"

"I do."

"Good, I'll need one of them, and parchment and ink. I want to send a message to Lady Dustin, an order to send all the horses and carts she can gather down to the Moat."

"That's a nice thought, but we won't need that much transportation, we have our own." The older man replied, gesturing to one side were several carts were being constructed, the finishing touches put on them, and small doughty horses being led to them. There weren't many of those horses, the men of the Neck had no use for such, but House Ryswell had sent them down in preparation for aiding the Lord Reed people into the battle.

"They're not for you my friend, they'll be for the force coming up the Kingsroad. I have around 6000 or so men marching into the Neck even as I speak. They'll be here soon enough, and they'll need to be rushed on their way afterwards. In fact, I'd like you and your men to wait here for them, you'll take command once they reach here. Timot Hammerhand's a good man on the march, but he's not a Lord, and he doesn't have enough experience leading people into battle for me to want him in control once they get past the Neck. I have to believe that the White Walkers might be able to send small scouting portions down into the Barrowlands at least."

Reed nodded, smiling at that news. "How long until the rest of the army arrives?"

"There's another army beyond them on the march from the Vale lands, about 12,000 strong. They'll take boat at Crannogtown then ship over to White Harbor, though I have no idea how long it will take them to get there. I didn't stay with them long enough to get a feel for their marching speed. The rest of the army will have taken to sea in Maidenpool when we heard the news from Riverrun that my father passed on, but Davos Seaworth, the master of ships at this point, if my wife hasn't changed the title, says it'll be at least a month and a half at best for them to get from there up to White Harbor."

Jojen winced, but Ranma simply looked at him, and he shook his head. "The dragons will be needed, needed at the Wall for some purpose. It involves a stone, and magic as old as the Wall itself. But more than that I cannot say."

"That is interesting, and helpful thank you Jojen." Ranma said, smiling at the boy before going on, taking the quill and parchment as it was handed to him writing out a quick note before sealing it with both the Stark seal and the new royal House seal, before handing it back to the maester Lord Reed had brought from Greywater Watch along with the ravens. "As for me, I need to get going again."

"Alone? You just said that the White Walker's will probably have scouts out past Winterfell." Reed said looking at the younger man in concern.

"They might," Ranma grinned, reaching up to pat the hilt of Ice where it rode over one of his shoulders. "But if they do, it's going to go very badly for them. I didn't run all this way just to lose to the first group of cold-blooded bastards I come across." With another laugh Ranma clapped Lord Reed on the shoulder, turned and raced on.

OOOOOOO

In comparison to her husband's race to the north, Daenerys and the rest of the army moved at a snail's pace. No, she thought darkly, a snail would put us to shame. Contrary winds and storms had forced the fleet to move at a glacial pace through the Bay of Crabs, taking over a week to cover what should've only taken four days max with Ser Davos and other local experts leading the way.

"Nor were we able to get away as soon as I had hoped," Daenerys said, shaking her head and looking over to where Merry was feeding more wood into a small brazier, while her two dragons curled up around one another on the other side of the large tent that had been set up on the deck of Davos's flagship. Both dragons were too large to fit into anything but the main hold now, and Daenerys refused to be parted from them, so she routinely bedded down here on deck with them. The Wolfsworn grumbled about it, but they too bedded down on the deck as protective as a pack of wolves around their cubs.

"I know," Merry replied. "Still, it's not like you were wasting your time." She leaned in, whispering now. "And besides, I needed some recovery time to allow myself to walk without a noticeable limp."

Daenerys laughed, pulling the younger girl into a hug and kissing her fondly on the forehead, just in case there were any nearby watchers who could see their silhouettes on the outer tent canvas. It was true however that she hadn't exactly been wasting but the time spent waiting for the fleets to get underway.

First, she bid farewell to Ser Barristan and to the forces heading down to the Stormlands and the Reach forces which were heading home. Ser Barristan led the shattered remnants of the Stormlands army, a bare 2,000 men, combined with a little over five hundred men from the Crackclaw Point Houses, and a further six hundred heavy cavalry cobbled together from various Reach Houses under Lord Ashford, with orders to supplement their numbers from House Selmy and the other Stormlands Marcher lords.

The Reach forces heading home consisted of practically all of their remaining heavy cavalry, whose horses would be useless in winter conditions for any length of time, which made up some 5,700 of the barely 9,240 strong force from the Reach that that survived serving under two Baratheon kings in quick succession. The rest, archers and light infantry, were added to the Royal Army, broken up and placed under the lords who had proven their worth to Ranma and Daenerys. Most notably Jason Mallister, Tytos Blackwood, Rickard Karstark, and Greatjon Umber, the four lords Daenerys was leaning on heavily for their expertise in warfare now that her husband had raced off alone to the North. These men would serve out the duration of the campaign in the North, and be paid as the rest of the army.

Daenerys also had to write out various orders, as well as an updated report for Jon and Lady Margaery, which would be sent first to Riverrun and then down via raven to Highgarden. Another message was sent overland to find new Lord Blanetree, informing him of recent events. A third was sent to the Golden Tooth and Lord Brynden, informing him of events since he had taken command there. With both Daenerys, Ranma and their armies in the North, Brynden, Blanetree, Ryger, and the Lord Piper became the most powerful forces remaining in the Riverlands, while Jon became their official voice in the South.

He's going to hate that, she thought to herself, shaking her head and moving away from Merry for a moment to sit down by her dragons. Rhaegon nuzzled into her side, and she gently stroked his eye ridges as Merry moved over to sit beside Sunfyre, sitting on a small cushion set onto the deck. The deck was wet and cold of course, but the large brazier set into the center of the tent and the warmth reflected off the dragons made it somewhat pleasant for the two girls.

"I'm still worried about allowing Lord Serret go." Daenerys said. "I realize that he did nothing personally dishonorable, and indeed did his duty to the crown in an exemplary fashion as Hand, but still, he was one of the strongest supporters of the Lannisters. I can't just wave my hand and make that those years of loyalty go away."

"You won't have to." Merry said, smiling slightly. "I talked to the man several times on the march, and he was disenchanted with Joffrey long before his Vile One persona came out. And let's not forget that Tywin threw away a lot of the Westerlands power in the Riverlands Campaign. Lord Serret's pragmatic enough to realize which way the wind is blowing, don't worry. Besides, I can't think of a better way to show that we are serious about respecting loyalty. With the Duchy of Silverden strongly in favor of us and the Golden Tooth in Royal hands, the Westerlands can't keep us out any longer even if the Lannisters are able to rally the other Houses. And that itself is a big if."

Daenerys nodded, then looked up as Ser Davos stuck his head in to the tent. He smiled at both ladies, making a particular point to bow to Merry, who he'd met occasionally before this war began. She had become a truly beautiful young woman since, though he was still bemused by how much the northern army had come to love her as one of their own. Several of his crewmen had been overheard commenting on her beauty in a slanderous manner, and he and several of his other men had been forced to step in to protect them from reprisals from some of the Northerners they were currently carrying.

"Your Majesty, we've finally reached the open ocean, but a ship's been sighted to the southwest. It's waving white flags from its prow and main sail indicating peaceful intentions, and it looks as if it's got the Citadel's mark on its sails. What do you want us to do?"

Daenerys stood up, moving over to pull on a large bearskin cloak. "Get me Alayaya, our two prisoners, Lord Fossoway and Septon Ehric please." she said crisply. "I'll want their take on what this could mean." Moments later the ones she had called for arrived at the front of the ship, where Davos was pointing out to Daenerys and Merry where the ship was just over the horizon southwards from the fleet as it moved out of the Bay of Crabs.

"What do you make of this?" Daenerys asked turning to them all with a smile. She nodded her head to Lord Fossoway, who nodded back, moving over beside her as Alayaya, and their two prisoners did the same.

The realities of their situation, had been told to the two Sand Snakes the morning after Ranma had left on his run, and to say they had been astonished by the largess bestowed upon them was to put it mildly. Both Elia and Nymeria knew they would be watched of course, but being watched and even judged for their actions was fine by them so long as they could in some measure prove their worth in such a way to win their eventual freedom.

"I believe that the Citadel has finally woken up to the fact that a new royal family has been created your grace." Said Lord Fossoway. "Late to be certain, but those old Archmaesters always take over long to reach a decision. Committees, bah!"

"Do not think this is because of their largess your Majesty," said Nymeria, speaking up quickly after looking at Alayaya for permission. "The Archmaesters play politics just as much as any of the great Houses, even more so amongst themselves. Whoever they sent will have an agenda, and that agenda might not be in keeping with your own. Be wary about anything he says, and don't trust him with any of the Grand Maester's traditional duties until he proves his loyalty."

Grand Master Pycelle had died on the march to Harrenhal. This had not been deliberate or anyone's fault, he had simply been too old to keep up with the strenuous pace after so long on a starvation diet. Ranma had ordered him buried with full honors, and a message set aside to be sent to the Citadel about the man. He might have served two mad kings, and been partisan towards the Lannisters besides, but he had redeemed himself in the days of the plague, trying to keep it from spreading, trying to do his best to contain it in a city where such a thing was frankly impossible.

"Do you have any idea what their agenda might be?" Daenerys asked.

"I don't know, but they might well be a little desperate if they've heard about magic returning. Most maesters have preached for decades that magic was waning or it no longer existed at all, that their new 'science' had proven to be stronger." Nymeria mused.

Elia smirked slightly. "There's also always been that rumor that they had something to do with the dragons dying out." Nymeria looked at her as well as all the others and she shrugged. "What, am I the only one that's heard that one?"

"That's because it's only a rumor." Nymeria said slowly as if speaking to a simpleton, causing her sister to glare at her angrily, a brief smile of triumph appearing on Nymeria's face in turn. Nearby Dacey shook her head, while Daryn and Roger chuckled at the byplay, but Daenerys had no time for it. She looked at Nymeria to elaborate and she went on. "There's never been any proof of that, nor any real explanation for how they could be involved."

"I'm just telling you to keep it in mind." Elia said defensively.

Daenerys nodded, then looked over at Davos. "Please signal one of the ships to go out and meet with this interloper. I don't want us to wait here for them of course, but they'll be able to catch up to us I assume?"

Davos nodded wincing a little at the idea of someone assuming that a fleet could even stay in one position like that. My new queen might be a landlubber but at least she's smart enough to take advice.

He nodded over at his first mate who nodded in turn towards a young boy stationed by the mainmast, then turned back as Daenerys asked another question. "How are we for supplies? I know you said that the fleet wouldn't be able to reach White Harbor without resupply, what did you mean by that, and why did you ask for permission from my husband and I to send out those small, what did you call them, cutters?"

"Cutters are small single-masted ships built for speed your Majesty, they serve as messenger boats and small fishing boats at times. You see, their keel is…" Davos stopped as he saw that most of his listeners looked as if he was speaking in a foreign language.

He went on hurriedly "Er, heh, I sent them ahead of us to a few of the smaller ports along the Fingers, Old Anchor and Sunkenwood, telling them in your name to send out supplies to meet us on the open sea. That'll save us time, and let us resupply which we'll have to do." He shook his head. "As it is will be on half rations for most of the way until we meet up with the ships out of Old Anchor."

"I'll set my dragons to hunting up anything they can in the ocean for us, which should help to meet out what we have." Daenerys replied. "And there'll certainly be able to feed themselves." With that thought Daenerys nodded to Davos once again murmuring that she would leave him to his business until the messenger or whatever was on that ship joined them here.

Hours later, Daenerys was roused from a nap against Rhaegon's side by a cough from the tent flap and Dacey's voice. "My lady, a rowboat's just pulled up alongside us, they are indeed carrying a maester who apparently is here to serve the royal House. He's not alone, he's got a few students with him as well."

"Good." Daenerys said with a nod looking over at Merry who nodded as well. She was always eager to meet others who might be interested in the healing arts. With that the two women exited the tent to meet with the new maester.

The maester, was a tall broad shouldered middle-aged man with rather handsome features and smiling eyes, reminding Merry somewhat of Jaime's features, though with none of her uncle's dangerous air. He also had gentle hands, something Daenerys found out when she held out her hand to shake his. It wasn't proper Royal behavior, but Daenerys had been among Northerners so much that most of her 'queenly training' (a name she had heard Daryn use more than once) had slipped to the wayside outside of formal events.

It seemed to take the man aback at first, cutting him off mid-bow, but he recovered quickly. "Your Majesty," he murmured, smiling somewhat overmuch for Daenerys taste. "Rumors of your beauty have travelled far and wide, yet even the most effusive do not do it justice. I am Crowe, a maester of the Citadel."

"I would leave flattery to my husband, Maester." Daenerys said somewhat coldly as she retrieved her hand, not liking how familiar he was attempting to be. "They matter not at all to me. My men say that you were sent here to serve the royal House?"

"Indeed your Majesty," replied the man, recovering his poise quickly from the firm response to his empty platitude. "While news of your campaigns reached us long since, it was not until a few months ago that we realized that your army lacked a maester to serve it as healing specialist and advisor. As such I was hastened on our way, but the ocean in autumn is nowhere for those in a hurry."

The men of the army around them laughed, and Hathan placed a large hand on Merry's shoulder, squeezing it as more than one man looked to her. She flushed under their gaze, but smiled back brightly and turned to the maester. "In truth good maester, I have been acting in that capacity since almost the moment we left the Neck behind. We had a maester from House Locke with us, but he died in an attack on one of our camps during the first Riverlands campaign."

"Then I am certain I have a lot of work to do." the man said. "No offense to you my lady, but a woman can never truly be a master healer, and a few months learning on the fly can never match a lifetime's worth of education in the citadel."

That was the man's second mistake and he froze as grumblings of discontent echoed from the men all around them, with Roger and Daryn in particular looking ready to commit murder on Merry's behalf. Daenerys smiled thinly. "On the contrary my friend Princess Myrcella has done an exemplary job. She might have learned on the fly, but that has not been a hindrance. Moreover you will not be the only maester serving the army at this point, we have a little over a dozen serving with the army as healers since the last battle. And if you're tact does not improve, you will not be serving it in any capacity whatever."

"I apologize your Majesty, I was merely voicing what was common sense before this. If the reality is different from that, then I apologize profusely, and am eager to learn how it was done." Crowe said recovering once again quickly. "There is one area however that I am more proficient in than practically any other Archmaester in the Citadel, which is of a delicate nature your Majesty, one we should talk about in private."

Daenerys' eyes narrowed, then she looked around. "Dacey, Meera, Merry could you join us please?"

The man frowned, but seeing as the woman Dacey was heavily armored and armed, and the other, Meera held a wicked looking trident, decided not to try to dissuade them from joining. As the quartet moved over towards the tent with the dragons, Elia and Nymeria frowned, looking at some of the servants who were being shown towards the hatch leading down into the ship. Specifically one of the students. "Is that…?"

"I believe it is. We might need to look into this, sister."

Crowe stopped as he entered the tent, staring at the two dragons which were sleeping side by side, disinterested in him and anyone else at the moment. They were much more imposing in person than he had expected, but that did not change what he was here to do to their mistress.

Daenerys sat on the small camp bed by her little ones, leaning back against Rhaegon's side staring at Crowe. "What is this private matter?"

The healing area I spoke of your Majesty is pregnancy," Crowe said simply. "I am a birthing specialist, an area where your mother I do not know if you were taught this, had trouble with every time, it was well known in the court at the time. That kind of thing is very often hereditary, and the Citadel's Archmaesters felt my aid in this private matter could secure your goodwill towards the Citadel and its policies."

Dacey and Meera exchanged a glance, knowing now why Daenerys had chosen them, possibly anticipating the thrust of this discussion. They both moved back to the tent flap, keeping a wary eye on the man, but no longer really worried he was a threat. Physically anyway, politically this was a very shrewd move on the Citadel's part, and certainly a way to gain the crown's favor, but the two of them didn't care about that.

For the first time since he came aboard Daenerys smiled at Crowe, and for just a moment he regretted his mission, the queen truly was a beautiful woman. "Then I welcome you to our service maester CroweThat is an area I have been concerned about, but with the wars over with here in the South, it is time to think about the succession."

She shared a glance with Merry, who nodded slightly. The younger woman knew that Daenerys hadn't taken any moontea after that night the three of them shared back in Maidenpool, and that Daenerys had been tremendously concerned about it but decided to take the plunge. Ranma and she had talked about it, and had put the decision of when to have a child squarely in Daenerys' hands, saying he would be happy whenever, so long as she told him immediately when she could that she was pregnant.

And given his ardor, I have no doubt already quickened, she thought to herself, smiling somewhat complacently as her hand came to rest on her stomach. Now I need to make sure I can keep my side of this arrangement. Looking up, she joined Merry in questioning Crowe on his knowledge on the subject, coming away impressed and sending to his quarters with a much better opinion of the man then her first impression had been. It did not stay that way long.

OOOOOOO

At the same time that Crowe was having his interview with Daenerys, Elia and Nymeria had convinced Alayaya to let them go in search of one of Crowe' students, who they claimed to recognize. Of course she didn't let them go alone, but they wended their way through the ship in search of the quarters that had been assigned to Crowe and his students, and were surprised to find the one they were searching moving towards them after closing the door behind him.

Or rather her, Alayaya realized with a start, staring at the figure in front of her. She was a master at spotting the female form whatever covering it was under, and that was a woman. Not a particularly good looking one, but those hips were definitely that of a woman.

"Elia, Nymeria." Said the student, then staring hard at Alayaya. "…How goes it?"

"As well as could be expected when we were forced to back a sadistic incompetent." Said Elia, shrugging her shoulders. "Viserys is dead, the idea of putting him on the throne died long before that though, and our family is going to pay for backing him. We'll fill you in, but first, what are you doing here, Sarella?"

The so named young woman said nothing, staring at Alayaya who raised one wintry eyebrow. "I'm not going anywhere, whatever you say you'll say it in front of me, or you'll say it in chains. With the White Walkers pressing hard in the North, the Royal House can't afford to have to deal with hidden dangers."

Sarella stared back silently for a moment before Nymeria stepped forward gripping her hand. "Sister," she said earnestly, giving away their connection now. "The Queen and King could have executed us both, regardless of our connection to House Martell. They could have destroyed our entire army, slaughtered every man in it, but they didn't. They've shown mercy and honor at practically every turn, and while I can't say I'm happy about being their prisoner, I'm happier with them on the throne then I think I would have been if either of the two claimants our uncle apparently backed gained it."

"If that's not enough for you Sarella," Elia said, one wary eye on Alayaya who hadn't reacted to the sister part of what Nymeria had said. "Then here's another point. The current king and queen destroyed the Westerlands' power, the Lannisters will never be Lord Paramount again, and the Golden Tooth is under royal command. Without those mines, the Lannisters will never be able to buy their way into greater power again, not for a long time. They also killed the last Baratheon brother, and have broken the Stormlands as they did the Westerlands. Our vengeance for Elia's death has been taken in full, even if not by our hands."

Sarella had been at sea for so long that she had no knowledge about many of the events on the mainland, and her confused, wary expression showed that. "I'm going to have to hear about that in greater detail."

But she frowned staring at her two sisters then shook her head. "My loyalty isn't to our House first anyway, whatever you might say. I gave my loyalty to Archmaester Marwyn, and it is as his spy I'm here. The Citadel's high council does not want to see the return of the dragons, and they sent maester Crowe here to see to that, however he could contrive it."

"Do you have any proof of that?" Alayaya asked sharply.

"That would depend on if you can find anyone on your side who can tell what a poison is? I doubt you'd take my word alone for it after all."

About a turn of the candle later Alayaya had gathered a few of the Wolfsworn, along with septon Ehric. While Crowe was being shown around the ship by Davos, who knew to stall the man, they entered the room where he and his students had been housed, moving the four remaining students out of the way abruptly as they tried to protest this invasion of privacy.

Ehric quickly searched through Crowe' luggage, coming back with four different vials, which held liquids he could not quickly identify. "I think we'll need Merry's help with these."

Merry was sent for, and she scowled angrily as she was told what Sarella had passed on. "Why don't they want the return of the dragons?"

"The return of the dragons coincides with the return of magic, it's, there's some kind of cyclical connection there." Sarella said trying to explain something that she didn't actually understand herself. "They think if they kill off the Targaryens or the dragons, magic will begin to wane once more."

"That's nonsense!" Merry said shaking her head. "There were tales of magic returning long before Daenerys hatched her dragons! How in the world do they explain the White Walkers, or that Red Bitch!?" Shaking her head in disgust at such a narrow-minded view she moved over to join Ehric kneeling over the four unknown vials. "I'll need some cloth, white for preference, and an empty jar."

Behind her Daryn nodded and turned quickly exiting the room.

With that order given Merry opened the firs vial, holding it up to her nose for a moment to sniff before pulling back. "That's a deadening agent, and a good one too…" She poked her finger in, nodding as it went numb. "I'll just be keeping this, see if I can duplicate the formula, it would incredibly useful." she said pushing it to one side. There were chuckles from around her, but she ignored them, moving through the other three.

The next she didn't recognize, but Alayaya, leaning over her shoulder laughed as the scent hit her. "Oh, ahahah, I, um I recognize that one. That's a… let's call it a bedroom aid. It's for men who have trouble… rising to the occasion, or think they require some more energy in that area."

She turned to the four male students, all of whom flushed, looking away, but one face in particular was red with embarrassment. "A little hint boys, girls prefer men who know what they are doing and have some care for their partners pleasure. The ability to go all night long is nice, but energy alone can't beat creativity and the ability to work with your partner."

Merry and Ehric both flushed while the Wolfsworn, Elia and Nymeria laughed while Sarella merely rolled her eyes.

The third vial's liquid was also harmless, which Merry found out after dipping some of it carefully on the cloth Daryn provided before bringing it to her nose. It was simply a powerful soporific, the kind you would give someone who was plagued with seasickness.

The last liquid however, that one Merry almost thought was similarly unimportant. But then she let some of it drip onto the white cloth and watched. The stain should have turned pink after a moment if it was the harmless healing agent she had thought.

It did not, instead it stayed as black as black could be, even drying slowly. She nodded her head grimly over at Daryn, who along with Dacey had stepped up to lead the Wolfsworn. "Arrest him." she said coldly. "But make sure you keep him alive. We'll need to know if more poisoners will be sent if he is discovered."

She turned a gimlet gaze on the four students who had frozen at the sight of the poison. "Search their luggage too, then get them off this ship. They can join some of my other workers on one of the others if they're cleared of suspicion."

It turned out they were, and the young men were bundled away quickly. Crowe however was not so lucky. Not two turns of the glass after leaving Daenerys's presence, he was back, protesting his innocence to no avail.

Daenerys stared coldly at the man. "While we do not believe in torturing confessions out of people, or torture at all, we are sorely tempted in this case. Merry?"

"The poison we found is not a poison that would kill you your Majesty, not quickly, but it would make you barren with even a single teaspoon's worth. It could also be used on your dragons I think, though their immunity to such things might have protected them. It's almost odorless, and tasteless, and in its diluted form, plus added to several other ingredients, the poison is a part of a healing balm, hence my test. There's certainly enough on hand to douse both you and them, with quite a bit left over." Merry replied crisply.

"I see… So it would not have been a threat to me but to my unborn children," Daenerys said her face almost shutting down, save for her violet eyes, which began to blaze with fury. "This does not make me any more inclined to mercy than I already was. Sarella Sand, step forward."

As Crowe glared at her angrily Sarella did so, dressed now in one of Alayaya's dresses and looking much more feminine and almost pretty, though not as pretty as her older sisters. "Your Majesty." She said with a brief, and rather clumsy curtsy.

"Tell me everything about this Citadel's politics you can, and this… man… in particular. I wish to know if the Citadel in its current form can be saved, turned back to its original purpose of serving the pursuit of knowledge and the people rather than itself. If it cannot, we will have to deal with it eventually as well."

"We've already begun to create a healing Hall," Merry said with a faint smile, remembering the work that had begun on that in Riverrun. "We might need to break more of the Order of Maester's traditional areas of control away from them in the future, letting one institution control such learning is a dangerous if they are inclined to meddle in affairs outside their purview."

"Agreed, and hopefully the next batch of oh so intelligent morons will know not to meddle in politics or King making." With that Daenerys turned her violet eyes on Crowe, who quailed at what he saw in them, before she turned to Sarella, who also flinched slightly under that gaze. "Now talk."

OOOOOOO

Two small armies faced one another across a narrow field near where the Golden River and the Rose Road came closest to one another, about halfway down the river between the lands of House Rowan and Highgarden. Several barges lay hove to along the river bank loaded with men and horses.

The road and the area around it were also congested with men and horses along with several dozen carts scattered throughout that army. That second army outnumbered the one by the river, but neither seemed to be in a rush to join battle. The greatest sign of this was the two parties which had met halfway between the two armies under a flag of truce.

Willas stared across his horse's withers at Lord Caron. "I realize and respect the fact that Stannis sent you back into the Reach to aid us my friend, however, I will not agree to bow my head to him until after news of his battle against the Starks has reached me. The Starks too have sent aid. Word reached me from my sister that His Majesty Ranma Targaryen sent his brother and a small force into the Reach with orders to fight the mercenaries coming up from the south. With so much of our own strength away, the Reach cannot afford to turn any aid aside."

Bryce Caron frowned. "That puts me in a precarious position my Lord." he replied honestly. "Lord Stannis did indeed send me down when we heard about the reavers along the Mander and the depredations of the Dornish army, but he also did so because at that time your father had vowed that the Reach would stand with him. You're actions put you at odds with your father's given word."

"Yet I'm also being very prudent about doing so," Willas replied tartly. There was no need to inform Bryce about how he and Margaery had decided to oust their father as Lord Paramount for gross negligence and incompetence of course, but neither was he going to hide his position. "Face facts my Lord, Lord Stannis will either win his crown on the field of battle far from here, or not. So at present, what does it matter here in the Reach who wins? The Ironborn and mercenaries are still here on our lands."

"I gave my oath to Lord Stannis, and I am a man of my word. If you side with the Starks against him, I will be forced to move against you."

"I won't fight you Bryce, but I won't let you fight the Starks force either. According to my sister's last message, Jon and his forces will meet the Dornish mercenaries in battle soon enough. Let them do so, then let us wait to hear what has happened elsewhere. Hopefully by the time you reach Highgarden the war between the Stargaryens and Stannis will have been settled one way or another."

"And if it is settled in favor of Lord Stannis?" Bryce asked.

"Then we will see." Willas didn't actually think that it would frankly, but was willing to hedge his bets that much. Whatever his personal feelings on the matter, Willas knew his first loyalty had to be to the Reach and its people.

The two young men stared at one another for a time then Bryce slowly nodded. "Very well, I must admit to not being in any rush to fight you and yours my Lord, spilling the blood of countrymen like that would sit ill with me." To one side Bryce's half-brother nodded his head, sharing a brief smile with Ser Graceford, who nodded back. "You and your army are free to go on your way unmolested, and we will see you at Highgarden."

Within a turn of the glass the barges once more men were moving down the river, quickly leaving behind him the Army following the Rose road. Willas stayed for a moment at the back of the lead barge staring back at that army, before shaking his head and turning downriver, wondering how the battle between Jon Stark and Oberyn had gone. Don't make me a liar Stark. I too don't want to fight my own countrymen, whatever the events elsewhere.

OOOOOOO

It had taken weeks for the Wildling Princess, as the Night's Watch and Northerners had come to call Val, to convince her fellows that they needed to bend their necks if any of them were going to survive. By that point disease and injury had seen off several hundred of them, and the White Walkers had been seen, gathering the dead of the battles along the Wall to them, those dead bodies that had not already been burned anyway. Unfortunately, despite the Wildlings best efforts that was a lot of bodies.

There were certainly far more than remained alive from the once monstrously large wildling migration. Of those that had begun the exodus south, there remained a scant 4000, comprised of bits and pieces of more than a dozen clans which had been forced to come together into one. That was all that remained of the once proud and independent people of the far North, but even so those numbers were a tremendous boon to the defenders on the wall.

In those same days the castles slated for destruction had been razed to the ground. Or rather not the castles themselves, but the stairwells from the castles up onto the Wall itself, a much easier task than destroying the castles entirely. The wildlings were allowed through the Wall at Castle Black then up onto it, and given command of two of the castles to the west of Castle Black,Stonedoor and Hoarfrost Hill. They weren't the most well prepared castles, but they also had somewhat decent south-facing defenses, two outer walls shaped like a triangle, with the third side being the Wall at the back.

This put them between the forces of the Ardent Defender, the Night's Watch, and the forces of House Cerwyn and Stark under Kyle Conton. In other words, the forces that were least likely to have any blood debts against the wildlings for their raiding, and the most disciplined.

There were some protests among the wildlings when they've realized that the Night's Watch men did not intend to let them simply through the Wall, but to defend it. But when told that the White Walkers had seemingly found a way around the Wall somehow, they decided that the giant magical edifice provided at least some chance of surviving the coming winter.

For his sins Tyrion had been given the task of liaising with Val, a task he took to with a certain fervor. The woman was utterly beautiful, deadly dangerous of course, but since killing a giant and losing one of his hands Tyrion had decided that few things in this world could frighten him. Certainly not a wench like this.

The two of them were walking along the Wall, staring to either side of it as Tyrion told her what he had learned about Theon and the Wolfsworn's abilities. He was trying to impress on her how dangerous the assault coming from Skagos must have been to overcome Theon.

"It makes no sense," Val murmured in response after Tyrion had finished speaking. "If the Others could get around the Wall like that, why have they not before? Why did they not use that kind of skill in the first wars against their kind? Why haven't they used it since?"

"While you wildlings might not wish to recognize it, tactics and strategies change over time, just like farming or other skills. A common blacksmith of today is of course much better than a blacksmith of a thousand years ago." Tyrion replied, smiling slightly at the girl who rolled her eyes at the barbs at her people's way.

Val understood that the Wildlings needed to change if they were going to survive, but Val was uncertain how that change was going to occur. Nor did she think that right now was the time to think about it. "Let us survive the winter first," she had told the other chieftains, "then worry about reclaiming our lands and becoming free from the kneelers and their cursed crows once more." Despite the fact they had been welcomed onto the Wall the wildlings still retained a certain disdain for the 'kneelers' and the Night's Watch. Even with their defeat having been so total.

"That's true enough, but if the Others can change at all, then why didn't they use this kind of… strategy… before?" The word strategy came out hesitantly, as if Val was uncertain she was using the word correctly. The wildlings after all did not think of strategy, they barely understood tactics.

"I don't know, but I think it could be because of the size of the force needed. Maybe the White Walkers don't multiply as well as humans do over time." Tyrion replied. "That could be a good sign of course. It might mean if we beat their assault off this time, it will be another several thousand years before they…"

He trailed off, cupping his glove covered hand over his eyes, which were mostly covered by a cloth wrapping to keep his face from freezing. Val too was covered from head to toe in cloth, which was a crime in Tyrion's opinion, who longed to peel her out of that clothing one piece at a time. But right now that thought was furthermost from his mind. "What is that?"

Val scowled turning to see what had taken the small imp's attention. He had a quick and intelligent mind, and tales of his prowess in battle had reached Val before the first parlay between the Night's Watch and her own people. But even so she could not quite overcome the stigma his dwarf size held in her eyes. To her mind he should've been smothered as a baby by his mother, who had shown weakness by not having done so. If there was one thing no wildling could abide, it was weakness.

That thought left her mind as quickly as the thought of her body left Tyrion's however when she saw what he was staring at. "A flock of birds? No, it's too large for that, and they're coming closer-OLD GODS Protect!"

Her voice rose on the last word as they came close enough to discern some more detail. Flying through the air towards them were what looked like thousands upon thousands of birds. All types of birds, but that wasn't the weirdest thing about the phenomenon. The weirdest was that they surrounded several far larger shapes, which looked like... "Dragons?"

"Somehow I don't think those are regular dragons." Tyrion replied as all along the Wall the alarm drums began to beat out a tune. Tyrion ignored the noise for a moment, staring not at the approaching flyers but below them into the Haunted Forest as he tried to see any detail there. When he did, he wished he hadn't. "By the gods old and new, it's them. They are coming."

Val turned her eyes in that direction, but her eyes weren't quite as keen as Tyrion's and it took her a moment to see the details that Tyrion had. When she did Val gasped, shuddering in fear. Out of the woods came a horde, there is no other word for it, thousands upon thousands of undead wights shambling their way forwards. But that could have been borne, even if those wights were former wildlings, or even people that Val had known personally. It was what was coming up behind them that made her gasp.

Pushing their way through the forest, knocking down trees as they came were giant mastodons. Every four of the beasts were tied together dragging giant siege weapons behind them, which stopped soon after they were spotted. The massive catapults began to lob stones at the Wall while the birds and dragons came closer. There were dozens of them in sight of where Tyrion and Val stood on the Wall, and Val wondered bleakly if this was the only place the Wall was being attacked, or if these same numbers were being thrown at it all along its length.

Beside the mastodons stood other giant creatures, which looked nothing so much as ice spiders. They were simply giant spiders made of ice and what looked like black steel, powered by fell magics. They were easily the most horrifying site Val had ever seen, and she shivered as they scuffled forward towards the Wall. On their backs they carried what looked like dozens of wights or White Walkers, it was impossible to tell at this distance.

Bronn raced up, slamming a helmet down onto Tyrion's head and thrusting a sword into his hand before raising a bow, aiming down an arrow into the distance. All around them hundreds of men of the order and in the other surrounding castles boiled out onto the Wall, shouting oaths of surprise and dismay as they stared at the horde coming at them.

The feel of the helmet slamming down onto his head broke Tyrion out of his shock. "All archers load with steel broadhead and aim for the fucking birds! Catapults, aim for the horde down there, the spiders in particular if you can!" He grabbed a nearby Order member, shouting into the man's ear. "Get to the nearest tried trebuchet, tell them to start hammering at those siege weapons of theirs! Then keep on going down the line, until you get tired and hand that order off to someone else to carry on. I want the entire Wall knowing those things are the main targets for the trebuchets!"

Tyrion had no idea what kind of ammunition those catapults down there were armed with. Nor did he think they could range on the top of the Wall. But he didn't want to take any chances either way.

"By your command Giantkiller!" The man said, racing down the Wall to the west.

As he did, Tyrion looked around him. Here and there several men who had come out from inside the castle too quickly had to retreat, the jeers of their fellows in their ears as they hurried to pull gloves, scarfs or face wraps on. But most of the men on the Wall were ready. They quickly began to fire at the approaching flock of birds and dragons.

"Why regular steel little lion?" Bronn asked pulling back on his bow and using his old name for Tyrion rather than his new, thankfully more popular one. The shot flew true, impacting a crow on the wing sending it tumbling down.

"The needs of flight."Tyrion replied grunting as hacked at the downed bird, while next to him Val grabbed up a bow of her own. "Wights can keep on coming and soak up a lot of damage, but birds need two working wings to fly regardless of any magic powering their bodies. At least I hope so."

His hope proved to be accurate. While the dragons kept on coming despite the arrows in them the flock of lesser avians around them quickly thinned out. The archers on the Wall went for number of arrows rather than accuracy. They loosed dozens of arrows each in those first few moments, thinning the attacking flock tremendously.

But then the dragons were at the Wall. The first of their number roared, breathing out deeply and a cone of immensely cold ice raced down towards the defenders. Some men were able to dodge but many were not so lucky. They died almost immediately under this attack, frozen solid between one breath and the next.

"Every fifth man out from me either side switch to fire arrows!" Tyrion bellowed over the screams of the freezing men, grabbing up the fire of his own and sticking it into a nearby brazier. "Fire arrows on the dragons!"

Unfortunately the fire arrows didn't seem to do much damage to the dragons. They were simply unable to penetrate the dragon's scales, but the fire itself did do some damage to their wing membranes, forcing the first two dragons within sight of Tyrion's position on the Wall to retreat. The last attacking Tyrion's section however suffered a much more interesting fate.

It tried to touch down nearby, landing with two feet on the balustrade and two scrabbling at the northernmost face of the Wall. It was only there for a brief second, its head rearing back as a prelude to breathing in before it shrieked in agony. "GUAGGHHH!"

Tyrion heard a deep throbbing noise coming from beneath his feet, the entire Wall humming somehow, a thrum he felt through his feet. Then here and there along its length small and large runes lit up green, the green of a pine needle, the light of magic gifted by the Old Gods, though none save perhaps the ancient Targaryen Maester realized this.

Down below the first group of wights had reached the Wall and were scrambling up it, climbing almost as well as the spiders that were following in their wake probably could. However, those first wights died screaming horribly, the magic in them canceled somehow. Though weak, the magic of the Wall was still active, still buried in its stone and ice. And it would suffer no trespass.

"The Old Gods are with us!" Said a Stark man to the far west of Tyrion. "The Old Gods bless Bran the Builder!"

Tyrion nodded absentmindedly, while Val stared to either side of her at the lights of the runes, moving off into the fog shrouded distance. Later Tyrion would study them, but right now he watched the horde down below reform and quickly retreat from the Wall. The spiders hadn't even come close yet, but they were already changing their tactics. Their siege weapons fired, slamming into the Wall here and there, and some of them even reaching perilously close to the top of it despite the range.

The remains of the flock of birds too reformed, flying over the Wall now and diving down. Even as the archers turned their attention to them the birds began to act like feathery missiles the injuries to their wings no longer able to stop them from getting at the humans below them. Now the defenders once again started to take losses, but every man downed took dozens of birds with him.

Yet there were worse problems elsewhere. Not every commander had been so quick to recognize the danger the birds represented, or addressed it so well. But even worse, here and there along the Wall the magical defenses had not activated. The runes had flickered for a moment, before slowly fading. The magic in the Wall was weakened badly, and worse yet none of the people on the Wall understood how to re-energize them.

At several points along the Wall the attacking whites did indeed climb up, and the dragons attacking elsewhere along caused far more damage to the defenders. But with the Walls natural defenses and their numbers the defenders held. Here and there, in particular by Eastwatch-By-the-Sea the defenders had to dig into their bags of tricks. Mors Umber ordered the use of his castle's supply of carefully hoarded alchemist's fire, which thankfully worked even better against the White Walkers than it had against the wildlings.

When it landed the wildfire spread quickly, engulfing several of the mastodons and the massive siege weapon they had been carrying between them. All of the mastodons who could see the fire and hear the screams of their fellows broke whatever control the White Walkers had on them, running away through and over some of the wights, and some of the White Walkers themselves.

The fire also destroyed the ice spiders or whatever they were. Even a little bit splashed on an ice spider was enough to break whatever spell that moved the massive ice and steel behemoths. In response the White Walkers swiftly pulled the ice spiders back, waiting to use them decisively rather than wasting them in penny packets.

The losses among the defenders on that first day were equal to the losses they had taken in that final push by the wildlings, and it got worse as day turned to night. The White Walkers, knowing now that the magic of the Wall was still active retreated somewhat sending in only sporadic assaults, feeling out the magic of the Wall and figuring out where it was weak. Those points were quickly reinforced from the areas that had such protection. The Order of Ardent defenders and the wildlings moved west and east respectively, doing so.

Yet despite this, every commander along the Wall knew that the attack from behind would be the true test of their mettle. Yet for days after the attacks from the north began, that assault had yet to appear.

OOOOOOO

Lord Commander Jeor Mormont sighed, nodding his head to his second-in-command of Castle Black as the man once again took over command of their portion of the Wall allowing Lord Mormont to retire to his rooms in the tower to go over the losses for the day. Sporadic assaults along the Wall had been going on for over a week and a half now, and they were slowly but surely taking their toll on the men. Not in numbers so much any longer, the White Walkers refusal to commit their spiders to the attacks on the Walls meant that only the dragons and the few remaining birds could truly come within range of the defenders. But in morale and energy they certainly were taking a toll.

I need to find a way to somehow rest some of the men for longer than a few hours a day, I know the other commanders are in the same position, or worse. He thought to himself as he pushed open the door to his room sighing wearily. The last few weeks have been hard on his old bones, and Jeor now knew for certain that he would not see the end of this war.

I hope we can hold out. If they're able to get past us with the numbers we've seen out there then disburse all over the North… he shuddered. That would be the end. Even if the Dragonglass shipments the raven from Winterfell mentioned arrived there still wouldn't be enough weapons to go around, nor enough men to wield them to cover the entire North. It would be like trying to exterminate the rats in the city, a lost cause from the get go. Humanity would be forced to abandon everything north of the Moat, and even the Neck might not be enough to stop the White Walkers with their new tricks.

Jeor wearily sat in his chair, leaning back and closing his eyes for what he thought would be only a few moments but which turned out to be at least half the night. Truthfully his second-in-command should've woken him up at some point, but the man had decided to let the Old Bear sleep.

It wasn't his second-in-command that woke Lord Mormont in the middle of the night either. That was the warning horns from Castle Black itself, the horns which only should've been blown if Castle Black itself was under attack. Lord Mormont roused himself with difficulty, moving out of his room at a sort of shambling gait which was the closest he could come to running with his legs as old and battered as they were. That it almost made him resemble a bear was something more than one man had commented on, though there were no jokes and jeers now.

By the time Jeor reached the at entrance to the tower, the rest of the defenders, most of whom were comprised of Night's Watchmen, and the levy forces of the North who had previously been trying to create settlements out in the Gift. Most of them had been housed in Castle Black, which proved to be an excellent move now, hopefully giving them enough men to see off a wight assault from the lands south of them.

He raced over to one of the outer walls, which had been erected in place since Ranma Stark and his friends had arrived with word of the White Walkers being active once more. Jeor was a firm believer in planning ahead, and it served him well here. The wall was little more than two stories tall, and very rough, made of wood and stone thrown together haphazardly, but even so, with the all of it having been buried in ice which had hardened almost as hard as the Wall itself, it was a decent defensive position.

Taking the defenders by surprise, the wights had gotten to the foot of the wall thanks to the snow swirling around them. And while the defenders had rallied as well as could be expected several wights had reached the top of the makeshift wall, cutting down the defenders. Ascending to what amounted to the top of the manmade hill Jeor pulled Longclaw from its sheath, charging along the stone and frozen wood to meet the nearest breach, cutting down two wights in quick succession, the magic of his dragon-fire forged blade a match for the magic animating them.

Several men of the Night's Watch followed him, wielding dragonglass daggers and steel swords rather than swords and shields. Several of them died because of this, but the dragonglass daggers did their work, ending the lives of those wights that fell from the injuries given to them by the steel weapons in their other hands. Soon the breaches along the makeshift wall closed, and more of the levy forces moved up to defend it.

Jeor nodded at his men shouting, "Spread out! Then get a runner back to the tower and make sure that every dragonglass weapon we've got is brought out!"

"We don't have that many of them to begin with my Lord." cautioned one of them.

"It won't matter if we husband them, if we lose Castle Black doing it! Go!"

Several moments after Jeor had led another charge to reclaim a portion of the defenses shouts of welcome reached his ears from behind. Moving away from the top of the crude wall and letting several of the smallfolk take his place Jeor turned. He watched as men from the Ardent Defender and House Hornwood made their way towards him.

Tyrion was at their head, and he nodded at Lord Mormont. Around them this force moved forward to aid the less trained force of the smallfolk, taking the dragonglass daggers from many of them to put them to better use. "What magical forces have they brought against us here?"

"Naught but wights at the moment. I think this is some kind of softening up action, or perhaps simply a sign of the White Walkers power going ahead of their army." Lord Mormont said shaking his head and leaning wearily on his blade where he had grounded it into the stone of the walkway beneath him. "I'm very much afraid this is only the beginning."

OOOOOOO

It had taken Jon and his army two days to loot and bury the dead. Given that the mercenaries had brought much of their spoils with them, the army was now almost too weighted down with such, despite many of the men thinking such a thing was impossible. Thanks to the barges however, there were still making good time along the river. A little over a week after the battle they saw the walls of Highgarden in the distance.

Highgarden's wharfs were protected by massive towers, which while looking very ornamental were also very tall and powerfully built. The walls to either side of the port leading inland from the Mander around the city were also well manned and maintained. Despite the castle of Highgarden being known more for its gardens and beauty, the defenses along the Mander had always been maintained.

Luckily Jon and his forces were welcomed with open arms. The men lining those walls and towers were cheering lustily as Ser Kevin Conklyn and Jon stood at the prowl of the first barge, shaking his head and smiling slightly. "I can only hope that the rest of the Reach welcomes us as warmly," he quipped, smiling at the knight.

Kevin laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. A young man himself, Kevin had taken to Jon Stark quite well, better than he had anticipated if he was honest. Beyond that serious Stark face was an extremely intelligent mind and a good sense of humor. "There might be a few houses here and there that are not as welcoming my Lord, but I think the majority of the smallfolk at least have made their position plain."

Jon nodded, understanding they had done that for certain. Those people were shouting "The Targaryens, the Tyrells, the Seven's Champions, the Seven bless the King and Queen! The Seven bless lady Margaery!" It was very evident that Ranma and Daenerys's work to get the smallfolk and the faithful on their side had paid off handsomely here, as did their sending Jon at all to aid Margaery.

As the barges smacked against the wharfs Kevin tapped Jon on the shoulder, motioning his head towards a small party that were sitting by possibly the most magnificent horses that Jon had ever seen. "My lady Margaery Tyrell, the Rose of the Reach." he said simply.

Moments later, while Lord Dondarrion and Sir Piper joined Kevin in organizing the unloading of their troops and their booty Jon, Arya, Nymeria and Ghost made their way towards the waiting party. As they came closer Jon slowed, pausing to take in the vision before him.

Golden-brown hair cascaded down in ringlets to halfway down Margaery's chest, surrounding a gorgeous face highlighted by high cheekbones, a small but extremely warm smile composed of full lips, and dark brown, intelligent eyes. The body underneath that hair and the magnificent green and gold rose accented gown also looked to be one of the best he had ever seen. For some reason he suddenly wondered what that hair would feel like cascading through his fingers, a thought he quickly brushed off to one side.

Ranma was right, she is a rare beauty. "Lady Margaery, my brother's description of you did not do the true splendor justice."

For her part Margaery was struck by the serious dark gray eyes of Jon Stark. He looks much more like a Stark in truth then Ranma did, there is no hint of what House his mother came from. Not that this does him any injustice.

Lanky yet clean dark brown hair cascaded down Jon Stark's head to his shoulders, a handsome if stern face dominated by those deep gray eyes, though the lips were quirked into a faint smile, and there were lines along his face that indicated he was as used to smiling as frowning. Wide shoulders, wearing decent lizard lion armor, and tall, as tall as Ranma, so tall that Margaery had to look up at him slightly, not a lot, but just enough for it to be noticeable.

When she extended hers to be kissed his hand was calloused and very powerful feeling yet the grip of his hand on her fingers was gentle, and Margaery actually shivered a little as he brought her hand up to his lips to kiss. Everything about Jon screamed that he was Ranma's brother, and yet despite that and despite Ranma having set a tremendously high standard, Jon did not lose anything in that comparison. She had not expected that, or the impact of those gray eyes on hers. "Jon Stark, your brother told me much about you as well, though he did not say you were a flatterer by nature."

"Ranma also spoke about you of course, young Arya." she said turning to Arya. "Ranma said you were a little wild thing, as quick to fight as you were to run away from your lessons? Although given what's happened since, I think that attitude seems much more sensible than most noblewomen's. I could've done with some of your skill with a sword of late myself, remind me to tell you the story of the battle of Oldflowers, hopefully before you can hear the bard's version."

"Too late for that." Arya replied promptly, smiling up at taller girl who had gotten Arya on her side immediately with that little speech. She held out her hand and the two women shook hands smiling at one another. "I heard that version from the few bards we met on the road by Bitterbridge, but I'm eager to hear the real version."

"I'll tell you about it sometime tonight then." Margaery promised, smiling at the younger girl. Then she looked at the two direwolves to either side and held out her hand palm up for them to sniff before pulling it back slightly. She looked over at the two Starks and asked tentatively, "Neither of these have problems with honey-based fragrances do they? I remember Fenris having a tough time getting used to my scent because of an incident with a beehive."

Arya and Jon laughed, shaking their heads. "Don't worry my lady," Jon said. "Neither Ghost nor Nymeria have ever gone into attacking bears overmuch or hunting down honey."

With that assurance Margaery held out her hand, allowing first Ghost then Nymeria to sniff it. Ghost went further, nuzzling Margaery's hand for a moment she reached out with her other hand to rub it his ears just the way he liked it. Nymeria was a little more standoffish, but also allowed Margaery to play with her ears slightly. Both direwolves however backed away as the cheering rebounded as the men on the barges started to disembark, their ears flattening on their skulls.

Margaery noticed this, and motioned towards her entourage. "I suggest we get on our way, unless you can control your friends when thecrowd really starts to get going?

"You mean there's more of this?" Arya asked skeptically.

"Oh yes much more. Highgarden is flooded with refugees from further downriver and more than a few from along the Blue Byrn as well. Up until word of your coming reached us, all of these people were afraid that Oberyn's army would reach us before my brother's, despite my best efforts at convincing them otherwise. They see you and your army as saviors, despite the work I've put in creating a city militia." She shrugged philosophically. "Fear has a far greater hold on people's minds than we sometimes like to admit."

"It's always better to try to fight it anyway my lady." Jon said, moving forward to help her into her saddle. He blushed slightly as her front almost went into his face as he did so, before backing away, a flush on his face.

He looked away, while Margaery simply smirked wickedly at him. Unlike Theon or Ranma, Jon had never frequented whorehouses nor had lovers. His previous relationships with women were practically nonexistent, a stolen kiss here were there with various female servants back in Winterfell, and a short dalliance with a maid in Riverrun that didn't go further than heavy petting was the sum of his experiences. Thus Margaery's beauty and outgoing nature had a heavy impact on him.

"Let's be off then." Margaery said then she grimaced a little. "My grandmother and my mother are wishful to talk to you unfortunately."

Jon nodded, moving next to her horse and looking up at her as Ghost and Nymeria quickly moved into a trot along the rather nervous horses. But those horses were magnificent examples of Willas' touch with the breed, and they moved readily under Margaery and her retainer's control. "Should I bring my sword with me? I've heard stories about the Queen of Thorns."

"I so wish I could tell you to do that." Margaery said shaking her head. "Unfortunately, my grandmother is still useful despite her attitude."

That word held a lot of weight to it, and Jon frowned thoughtfully as he heard it. Arya rolled her eyes however. "Don't tell me were going to be involved in political talk! I'll take Nymeria and head downriver right now with a small scouting force instead, how's that?"

"Not a bad idea, but I'm afraid you won't be able to get out of it." Margaery said with a shrug. "It would be extremely rude too. Not…" she laughed. "That I think that would stop you Arya, judging from some of the stories I've heard about you. Is it true you tried to stitch Sansa's sleeping cloth's to her bed while she was still in them?"

Arya looked embarrassed while Jon laughed, shaking his head as they continued down the streets. Luckily for the two direwolves Margaery's attempt to race them through the city to the castle before the rest of the troops began their march through it worked. Their speed was such that only a few hundred or so people began to cheer as they raced past, though as they continued the noise still added up. By the time they reached the castle both direwolves were looking very nervous and edgy, even the normally calm and composed Ghost.

Realizing this Margaery pointed to one side even as she jumped out of the saddle in front of the largest stable Jon had ever seen. "Our godswood is that way, we don't have many worshipers of the Old Gods in the Reach, so it's normally empty but it's well kept up, and it should feel somewhat like home."

Before she finished the two direwolves had taken off in that direction and she blinked. "I'm going to have to get used to that again aren't I? I know Fenris was able to understand most of what was said around him, but extending that impossible ability to other direwolves is going to take a bit."

Arya shrugged. "You'll get used to it, we did and it and everything that comes with it is fantastic!" She paused, frowning as she remembered the time when she had warged too often with Nymeria, losing some of herself to the instincts of her bonded. "Well, most of it anyway. They're a lot better than horses or dogs let me tell you."

"So says someone small enough to ride on them at need." Jon said, playfully rubbing Arya's head for a moment. Arya had put on weight in terms of muscle mass and in other areas, but had only grown a few inches since they had left Winterfell.

Arya growled batting his hand the side and Margaery shook her head with a laugh. "Siblings always do that to their sisters, trust me, you're lucky you only had two older brothers. Garlan and Loras especially used to mess up my hair all the time. The worse times was right before my coming of age feast, moments before I was to be introduced into the hall. Our father was so furious! I wasn't, I just thought it was funny at the time, but it has gotten rather old since."

Then she went on to say something that got Arya on her side permanently. "By the way Arya, while you're here could I impose on you to teach me some sword work? While you might be shorter than me I have no doubt that you're stronger as well, and we're alike enough in other ways that I think I'll have an easier time learning from you then I would from a normal man at arms. If I could convince any of them to go against my grandmothers wishes in the first place, I mean."

"I'll be happy to." Arya said happily, smiling up at the taller woman. "I'm always happy to find other ladies willing to rebel against what their menfolk demand of them."

"I wouldn't go that far." Margaery said dryly. "While I've learned that one should always be prepared to defend oneself, women can wield far more power behind the scenes than you may think."

That conversation went on for some time as they walked through the gardens of Highgarden and into the castle, though Margaery did not convince Arya that her way was better than Arya's, which would've been impossible. Soon Margaery showed the two of them to their rooms, where they found servants preparing hot baths for them, and even a few changes of clothing and dresses, along with tailors and seamstresses.

An entire corridor was set aside for Jon and his commanders, with the nearest room given to Arya and his own being the large suite on the far end. He stood staring out through an actual window, not a murder hole, a real window, something that would never have been even contemplated in the North (or even most of the Riverlands), noticing as he did so that the room had an excellent view of the gods wood.

"We actually have three weirwood trees here, we call them the Three Singers." Margaery said. "I have to be honest and say that of late I've been drawn to them myself. If you would like Jon, I can show them to you later."

"I think I would like that my lady." Jon said with a nod. It has been far too many months since he was able to make my respects to the Old Gods. He'd done so in Riverrun, but even that was a little over than four months ago.

Margaery nodded then looked at the servants waiting nearby. "If you two don't want new clothing I'll understand, that was my mother's idea. Between the two of us, I think she's trying to overaweyou barbarian Northerners with our civilized ways. I think my stories about Ranma might have primed her to try that, not that I think she'll have any luck really."

"Some new breeches and a shirt." Arya replied promptly. "I've outgrown my clothing so much, I'd really like a new entire wardrobe, but if you think I'm going to wear any kind of dress think again." The she-wolf growled those last few words at the seamstresses, who backed away hurriedly.

"For my part new pants and new boots would be a marvel milady, the last being an area I hope my men can also partake of in the city." Jon said turning on her with a warm smile that caused Margaery to smile back automatically.

He really is Ranma's brother, so warm under that exterior. I truly wish to meet Lady Catelyn. I was impressed by Edward, but the two of them have done a truly magnificent job with all of their children even if those children are so very different from one another.

"In that case my lords, I will leave you to it. A servant will be sent for you when you and your commanders are expected at dinner." She grimaced a little. "You should probably consider that as Ranma put it more than once in King's Landing, a command performance. My grandmother and mother, many of the important factors from the city and many ladies from the surrounding houses will be eager to see you, and unfortunately to judge you."

"So long as they judge us by our actions rather than predetermined notions my lady, I have no issue with that idea." Jon said, though by her face Arya did not agree.

Margaery did indeed leave them to it, though Jon interrupted his fitting for new boots when he heard Sir Piper, Edric and Lord Dondarrion arrive. Margaery was with them, guiding them to their rooms as a good hostess would, though it was her words that caught both Lord Dondarrion and Jon's attention. "When I heard word from Sir Kevin that you were indeed among the army marching along the Mander Beric, I immediately sent a raven to House Dayne. Your sister Lord Dayne, will be overjoyed to hear that both of you are still alive."

"It was a near run thing at times, my lady." Said the young voice of Edric. "But we came through in the end, not undamaged, but with new friends and allies at least whole."

Beric's voice was rough with emotion. "I, I cannot thank you enough for doing that Lady Margaery. But before any bath or fitting however, might I trouble you for a quill and parchment? And, and may I hope that particular raven has returned?"

"It hasn't yet I'm afraid." Margaery's voice said softly, and Jon stuck his head out the door in time to see her lay a gentle hand on the older man's shoulder. "Take all the time you want my friend, I've already prepared writing implements," she gestured to one side. "We should hear back from Starfall in around four, maybe six days."

Lord Beric looked in that direction, then nodded brusquely to Ser Piper, bowed formally to her and turned without another word entering the room and locking it behind him.

Edric however shook his head with a faint smile. "I think I'll just leave him to his work, thank you." He said sardonically. "I'm going to be heading home in any event, and I'm sure my Lord Beric has more important things to talk about with my aunt than me."

Margaery laughed tousling his hair before gesturing to the room next to Lord Beric's. "Then you can see the tailor first, young man! Don't think I didn't notice that most of your clothing is about 5 inches too short at the leg and arms!" Edric blushed but complied quickly and Jon smiled as Margaery turned to wink at him.

Later that evening Jon and his lords were indeed called to dinner. It wasn't the sumptuous affair that a feast of this nature would've been on one occasion, indeed it was very plebian fair for Highgarden. But even so the variety and amount matched what any noble house in the North would've put on for the Feast for the declaration of Autumn.

The meal was already in full swing by the time they arrived, a small insult to Jon's status as Hand. Margaery hadn't liked it, but had been overruled by the united front of her mother and Olenna. They both wanted to see how Jon would react, and Margaery had decided it wasn't worth alienating her mother further by arguing about it. But seeing as Jon didn't realize it, their little test was worthless.

"My daughter unfortunately has convinced the cooks and butlers that we need to start husbanding food," said Lay Tyrell, sighing in fond exasperation and some chagrin. "I couldn't even prevail upon her to open the larder especially for this meal."

"That was probably a good move my lady." said Jon bowing over her hand before looking at Margaery. She sat on one side of the table rather than at the head, and Jon frowned. "My lady, my brother and his wife made certain to tell me that you would be acting as Lord Paramount. Why are you not in your rightful chair?"

Margaery laughed quietly, shaking her head. "My brother's army is around three days out along theGolden River. That is his place, and I will not usurp it."

"Yes," said a faint crackling voice, causing Jon to turn to an elderly woman who sat right beside that noble place, almost on the corner but not quite. "That was a shrewd move on your brother's part, I'd not have thought of it from a northern wolf. Of course, he then did something remarkably stupid, elevating a baseborn, and naming him Hand? That sets a bad precedent, no matter how certain your loyalty to him might be."

Margaery stiffened noticeably, but Jon simply shrugged his shoulders. "It doesn't, not really. And my loyalty to my brother, to his wife, and to House Stark is not in question old woman, blood and loyalty is the most important thing in the North. I would've thought given that the Reach has always been known as the home of chivalry you would understand that."

The old woman barked a laugh, more of a cackle than a real laugh. "Well said, though I still say the precedent is a bad one."

Jon once again shrugged his shoulders as Arya sat down without preamble, reaching for the food. Compared to the fair they had had on the road, this was a feast of epic proportions. The chicken in particular was calling to Arya. Jon changed the subject quickly, waving to the others who stood beside him "May I introduce my sister Arya, Ser Piper, Lord Edric Dayne, and Lord Beric Dondarrion. They constitute the senior commanders of my force."

"Hardly an army." Olenna scoffed. "Judging by the numbers, you barely number what five thousand or so?"

"Our fighting prowess, organization and tactics allow us to have an impact far in proportion to our size." Jon replied coldly. "Oberyn learned that to his cost."

"Because of the archers and more importantly perhaps the arrows we sent to aid you." Olenna replied. "I'll not doubt your strong, or that your army's a good one, but don't think that you're the only power here."

Jon exchanged a glance with Margaery, who shook her head slightly almost unnoticeably. This was obviously one of the old woman's power plays, her need to show that the Reach was still a major power, and one worth respecting. So Jon replied blandly "As you say. Though if that is indeed the case, perhaps you should have kept some of that vaunted strength at home?"

For a moment the conversation around the hall paused, the ladies, knights, city factors, watching as Jon stared down the old woman, until she finally cracked a smile. "Hard and unyielding you Stark boys, just like your father. True enough, my idiot son was a buffoon in his later years." She waved Alerieto silence. "Oh be quiet Alerie, you know it's true. Even so, Lord Bastard Hand, remember the might of the Reach is not just in armies, but in food and manpower. Even now with the ravages we've faced that is still true."

"Indeed my lady, which is why I as Hand was sent down to aid you. Even Ranma would not have sent me along with this expedition just out of friendship's sake." He smiled widely at Margaery. "Even if he does count you as a friend my lady. He told me of the education you tried to give him in politics, and of your rivalry with the lady Merry. That made for interesting hearing, when Merry wasn't around anyway. He said it was the funniest thing he had ever seen, though he was thankful that neither of you were like Arya in how you would deal with such competition."

"Swish and stab." Arya muttered, chewing a bit of chicken quickly to get the words out. "Swish and stab." She glanced over at Edric, who smirked back blushing slightly as she did the same before looking away.

Margaery laughed, while Olenna asked quickly "You were raised with young Ranma, do you have any idea where his strength comes from? The tales of his destroying the Mountain that Road were very graphic, and there have been more and more tales of awe-inspiring deeds like that, not just his victories in this war."

Jon shrugged, feeling no inclination share Ranma's full story with this woman. Or even with Margaery frankly. "I am a Wolfsworn my lady, I trained with Ranma since we were five or six I think? A lot of the early training was in the form of games, so it's a little vague."

He laughed suddenly, shaking his head. "I remember the early weight training though, that was an experience. In any event, whatever his skills are they can be taught, but he'll only teach those who prove themselves loyal, like Edric here, or the other Wolfsworn."

"You've begun training in this strange new way of fighting?" Margaery asked looking at young Edric.

"I have my lady, and the training bore fruit already. I wasn't a very decent blade before this all began, and even after we formed the Brothers without Borders I was only reckoned a middling swordsman. Since then, well I met my distant relative the Darkstar Gerold Dayne, and I defeated him in sword to sword combat. He was marked as one of the best blades in Dorne, and I dealt with him easily."

"I dealt the killing blow though." Arya said smiling in a manner that showed all of her teeth in a way that sent the lady of the house to shiver and even Olenna to flinch backward slightly. "Didn't want Edric to become a kinslayer."

The conversation continued from there, delving into the campaign in the Riverlands from the beginning. The trials in particular were a fascinating subject to all of the gathered magnates and noble ladies, as well as the news that the Golden Tooth had fallen, something they had heard about before, though not the how.

Olenna however continued to needle Jon on his bastard status, staring at him thoughtfully as she did so, not looking away even once despite eating as much as any of the others.

Eventually even Jon's deep well of self-control began to run out, and at last he said, "My lady, if you have a problem with me, may you please speak it plainly? My status as a bastard is not in question, it is fact and this constant needling on that subject serves no purpose to my eyes. I am what I am, a loyal man of House Stark, a loyal brother of the king and the Royal couple's Hand, whatever my status at birth might have been."

"It is that status as Hand that makes your birth a point of contention." Olenna said simply. "Only oncehas a bastard been placed as Hand, Lord Brynden Rivers, and some say the Seven looks on in disfavor to the Hand being a bastard, given the number of natural disasters that occurred during Bloodraven's time at the position. Yet even though I'll admit he did not do too badly at the post, bastards as a whole have spelt the ruin of Houses weak and powerful more often than not! Surely you know enough history such as the Blackfyre Rebellions and the Ninepenny Kings War. Here in the Reach there were countless wars of succession for this or that House caused by bastards. And your brother simply hands you that amount of power, that amount of autonomy! Either he and his wife are fools or there's something more going on to it."

"Or, I am simply loyal and they know it." Jon said his voice suddenly as harsh as the stone of the North. "You are coming dangerously close to impugning on my personal honor, and even in the Reach you should know how such can be taken."

"I'm only impugning on it," she said silkily. "If there isn't really anything more behind it. So I ask you, what convinced Daenerys Targaryen to go along with the idea of legalizing your status?"

She knows Jon thought to himself suddenly. She fucking knows! "How?" he asked aloud. Staring hard at the old woman his voice a bare whisper which did not carry over the noise of the feast going on are all around them. "How?"

"I have been Queen of Thorns for a long time boy." Said the old woman, tapping her finger on the table in front of her. "And I've heard a lot of things over that time. Now tell me true, who are you?"

Jon looked at Margaery, who was looking back at him quizzically, staring between him and her grandmother, a fact which for some reason pleased Jon. She had no idea at least. Breathing deeply he shared a glance with Arya who shrugged her shoulders in him unconcerned. "At this point does it really matter?"

"No, no I don't suppose it does. So long as you realize my lady that whatever my birth, I have no wish for the crown, and I would rather slit my own throat than fight my brother. Get that through your head now. If this is some ploy to make me come out and admit to my heritage in a way for you to play kingmaker, to start another civil war so you can put me on the throne as some kind of puppet, get that out of your head now, because I will never agree with it. I would rather burn you alive at the stake as a witch then go along with it."

"I don't want another war, and such loyalty does you credit." Olenna said, her voice losing some of its edge for the first time in the meal. "And whatever your heritage, if it is indeed as I think I would not want that kind of blood on the throne in any event. Whatever the reality of their situation, their actions did break the kingdom after all."

"I'm utterly lost right now." Margaery said, "And I don't like it. Would someone's please fill me in on what's going on here?"

"I am Jon Targaryen nee Stark," Jon said slowly his eyes still locked with the old woman "son of Lyanna Stark and Prince Rhaegar, but only by blood. By birth and by inclination, by oath of fealty, by love and honor, I am a Stark my lady! And that is allI will say on this matter. Are we clear?"

"Perfectly." Olenna said smiling slightly, as Margaery gaped at Jon and then her grandmother. "Welcome to Highgarden, Jon Stark. I'm sure our welcome will be worth a Hand's visit."

Later on that evening Jon met with Olenna and Margaery alone, passing on the tale about what had occurred between the two love-struck lovers which Eddard had shared with him and the others. It made for a longish tale, and Margaery was shaking her head in surprise at some bits of it, muttering about how the bards had been right, that it had been love which had broken the kingdom, not madness.

Yet after Jon finished Olenna stood by what she said earlier. "Whatever the emotions between them Lyanna and Rhaegar were fools, insane idiots! Your sister was besotted and blind, and Rhaegar should've known what would happen if he took her to wife, especially with the way she had to run off to meet him! That act started the rebellion, and cost thousands of lives, including his own! No, given how well your brother and Daenerys have done, I have no wish to make use of your real heritage as you fear. Nor will any others if it ever becomes public."

"I wish I had your confidence in your fellow lords." said Jon coldly. "You made me say that aloud where others might've heard, so if it does come back to bite us, it is on your head."

"I'm old boy, you think any threats you can make matter to me?" Olenna scoffed, shaking her head. "No, what's more important is that before that act Rhaegar was part of a small group of… powerful individuals who saw the Aery's dissent into insanity as the greatest threat to the kingdom in centuries. We wanted to put Rhaegar on the throne, and to that end we began to put in place a network of spies."

"Since Robert's Rebellion we have fractured badly, but most of those spies now answer to me. With King's Landing gone, Varys and others of the group either out of communication or simply dead I've been able to take command of most of it, certainly all of it in the Reach, the Stormlands and the Westerlands. Elsewhere of course war gets in the way of my abilities, but for now, you have access to, if I'm not immodest in saying so the greatest spy mistress in Westerosi history and her network."

Jon stared at her thoughtfully then nodded slowly. "My brother already employs two Masters of Whisperers, a setup which works on many levels. I'll pass on that you have your own network to them, though hopefully once Stannis has been defeated we won't face any overt threat for a while. Well, not mortal ones anyway.""

"What do you mean by that?" Margaery asked, frowning sharply.

Jon shrugged and filled them in on what he knew about the White Walkers and their gathering strength. He of course didn't know everything that had occurred of late, the raven sent from Winterfell to Highgarden was still in the air somewhere, but it was closing quickly.

That meeting seemed to drag on forever to Jon, while Margaery and her grandmother made him aware of the problems facing the Reach. Despite Margaery enforcing a very mild version of a rationing system, food itself was not an issue in Highgarden, at least not in the realm of crops. Her reasoning for doing so was in fear of having need to build up enough food which could then be sent to the other kingdoms of Westeros.

She would continue to keep the system going until she had a good read of three points: the damage caused by Oberyn, the time it would take to put the area around the Mander back under the plow, and how long it would be before winter arrived. That last point was hotly debated among the maesters at this point, with most believing the Reach had at best another two months before winter hit it's northernmost areas.

Yet even without those areas, and the lands of House Rowan and others ravaged by the swords of the Lannisters, the Reach was indeed building up the surplus Margaery wanted to see. The tales Jon had heard of crops coming in far faster than they should, of fallow fields suddenly bearing full vibrant crops once again were true. Every remaining Great House and even every remaining minor House had begun to build up a surplus.

Jon and Olenna haggled then about what to do with that food, and here Olenna found that Ranma hadn't been the only Stark youth to be taught economics and their importance. Jon insisted that the food be distributed to the Riverlands and to the Stormlands without recompense, aiding those smallfolk in those areas that could not feed themselves any longer. The Crownlands could once look after itself, without the massive drain on food King's Landing had been, and with much of its land untouched, as far as Jon knew, by war. The Westerlands too, despite the losses among their nobles, could at least feed its own population.

But Oberyn and her mercenaries had done a horrifically complete job in ruining the lands their army passed through, poisoning wells, burning houses, and leaving corpses to rot where they were slain. The smallfolk surviving in those areas would never be able to repair their lands in time for winter, not in the face of autumn's impact on the Stormlands.

And the areas south of the Red Fork which had felt the sting of Lannister occupation were just as badly ravaged. According to a message sent from Maester Vymanover a month ago, nearly all of the smallfolk who had attempted to return to their lands in those areas had returned quickly, bringing tales of horror.

Olenna however had no empathy for the plight of those lands. She argued that getting the food there would not be an easy task or a cheap one. Moreover, selling that food was some of the farmers only means of income. Highgarden and many of the other great Houses were already dealing with too many smallfolk which couldn't produce anything. Therefore it should be sold as it normally would in peacetime.

In the end they compromised. Both the shipping and payment for the food sent into the Stormlands would be covered by the Crown, while the Riverlands and the food sent there would be paid by those Houses which could afford it, or paid for by the crown if not. Since House Tully was dealing with the majority of those refugees, it would fall on Riverrun's coffers to pay for it, but with the Golden Tooth under Tully control, that could easily be borne. However, if the Seven-sent abundance continued for long enough, food would also be sent up to the North by ocean. That food would be sent free, with the cost of distribution being footed by the Reach.

However, in return Jon refused to merely aid in House Redwynes rebuilding or any of the other Houses, a task that was beyond even House Tyrells' deep coffers. They could pay for some of it, but not the entirety, especially the damage to the Arbor and the Shield Islands. Instead, the Royal House would pay for the rebuilding of the Redwyne fleet and its vineyards. In return they would become half-owner of that fleet, and be paid taxes directly of the profits from the vineyards rather than House Redwyne. This would be decent and rather steady source of income for the crown.

However on the matter of displaced smallfolk and their livelihoods Jon was much more sympathetic, saying that the Crown would cede to both aiding their return to their homes and rebuilding out of its own pocket. This was in keeping with his king and queen's past policies, so Jon knew they would back it along with the rest of his work here.

All in all, while Jon's haggling was harsh on the Great Houses, it was not so harsh that they could not meet his demands. House Tyrell in particular could do so easily enough, thanks to Highgarden not having been attacked and its own lands actually having been enlarged to House Oldflowershaving been wiped out.

This brought the discussion to the real reason why Jon had been sent down to aid Margaery: the Ironborn raiders. Admittedly at the time that message had been sent those raiders were a much greater issue than they were now, but for some reason while the raiding along the Mander had mostly stopped, there were at least two crews worth of Ironborn raiders scattered along the river below Oldflowers.

"Why they're still around with the Arbor fallen and our fleet moving on the Shield Islands, we don't know." said Olenna tapping the map thoughtfully looking at her granddaughter. "They are acting more like brigands and rapists than seaborne raiders at this point. Simply mindless destruction and pillaging."

Jon nodded grimly. "Like Oberyn and the mercenaries, they've lost themselves to the joy of slaughter. Still, two crews won't be much of an issue, even if they are able to find a keep that's large enough to hold them all. But is that the only threat we face?"

"It is not." Olenna replied honestly. "Until word reaches us of the outcome of the war between Stannis and the King, Lord Bryce's army is still a threat. If Stannis prevails, we may be forced to fight him before fighting Stannis's own forces, which would be bad."

Jon smiled thinly, knowing that if Stannis won, which Jon doubted to put it mildly, Olenna at least would urge her granddaughter and grandson to abandon Jon. By that point he might well be in the field with his army they could close Highgarden against him upon his return. Caught between the walls of the city and the army under Bryce Jon would be hard-pressed to get away. But again Jon had no doubt that his brother would be Stannis. Possibly Stannis was a good strategist, a good tactician, but he doubted that he was a match for Ranma, or that the Shadow Walkers were a match for the Wolfsworn.

"Stranger still, are the Marcher Houses. While they are all moving separately, most of them seem to be moving up to meet with Bryce. One of them however is not. House Peake is marching its forces in a direction that will let them meet with forces from House Florent, which have moved from their own territory near the Honeywine down to the Roseroadoad." Margaery said. "I'm afraid I don't know Lord Titus Peake at all, and Lord Florent…"

Olenna sighed. "I don't have any idea what that incompetent's long term plans are either. Lord Florent might be attempting to simply enlarge his holdings, or make some other trouble hoping that we'll make concessions to him given what happened to his son up by King's Landing, and that we don't have the resources to deal with him in the field."

"What happened to his son?" Jon asked one eyebrow raised. "The last I'd heard, Selyse Florent was married to Stannis, so shouldn't they have sat out this war?"

"The Florent's hedged their bets." Margaery said dryly. "While I have no doubt that Selwyn backed Stannis, Lord Florent sent his son and heir with a small token force to join the Reach's muster. After the battle Stannis apparently executed him for gross incompetence. Unfortunately, this means their House retains much of its strength."

Olenna barked a caustic cackle. "I'd not expect anything brilliant on the battlefield from him, except possibly in how quickly he retreats from it! But they could handle most of the Houses on that side of the Mander one by one, at least until Willas returned. Frankly they might be the bigger threat in comparison to the remaining Ironborn."

"Show me where they are," Jon said thinking hard as he gestured to the map between the three of them. "And do you have any agents among House Floret his servants that can tell us anything?"

"I've a few, but they're unable to get messages to me that easily," Olenna replied, shrugging her shoulders. "And of course with Lord Florent and his people out in the field, I've lost all of those contact's usefulness. I only have one among his armsmen, and he's not in a position to spy on his lord's thoughts."

Jon nodded, looking down at the map. Looking up however he noticed that Margaery seemed to be fighting back a yawn and smiled standing up. "I think we've done enough for one day. We'll go over the logistics and supplies for my forces tomorrow, I intend to let my man rest in the city at least until Willas arrives. Unless you think we need to set off quickly?"

Neither of the Tyrell women replied, simply nodding their heads. Jon smiled, then Tyrell, bowing from the waist towards Margaery. "Until tomorrow milady." With that he left, heading not back to his room as Margaery and her grandmother thought, but downstairs and out towards the godswood.

Behind him Olenna looked at her granddaughter, waggling her eyebrows conspiratorially. "My, he is a handsome fellow isn't he and heir to the throne for now."

Margaery rolled her eyes slapping her grandmother lightly on the hand. "Enough of that grandmother, you gave your word that you wouldn't push for such things, and you heard Jon, he'd rather slit his own throat them fight Ranma." If I was faced with that possibility I might do that too regardless of our relationship, Margaery thought to herself shaking your head. Ranma's physical abilities, and his string of victories in the war were hard to argue against.

"Just something to think about my dear, not the heir to the throne part you're right about that, but the handsome part. Something I think you've already noticed, haven't you?" Margaery did not deign to respond to that, which unfortunately was a response in itself. Instead she stood, kissed her grandmother lightly on the forehead and left, allowing a servant to enter and help with the old woman appear for bed.

OOOOOOO

The two direwolves found Jon as he entered the godswood. With Ghost guiding him, the three of them moved through the, to Jon's mind, over civilized and fake woods, heading deep into them in search of the weirwood trees.

Soon enough Jon stood in front of the loose triangle of weirwood trees called the Three Singers. They weren't in the not center of the godswood for some reason, but off to one side, the first thing in the woods that made the godswood seem less than the constructed park that it seemed. The Three Singers themselves were much younger than the weirwood trees he was used to, or at least seemed that way. Their trunks were almost slender in comparison to the massive trunks of the tree in Riverrun or back in Winterfell. They had hundreds of willowy branches, all of them tipped with the red five pronged leaves of the breed.

The faces carved into their white trunks too reflected this, being of a trio of women, something Jon had never seen before. The detail on those faces was amazing, far more than the rough face on the tree in Riverrun, though not as natural seeming as the face on the tree in Winterfell.

And given Lady Margaery and her importance to Highgarden, plus her grandmother's undeniable influence, it's strangely appropriate for House Tyrell to have such. Jon thought, before stepping forward. He looked at them for a moment, before choosing the tree whose face seemed to give off the most stern, martial expression, bowing his head slightly and reaching forward with his hands to gently touch the weirwood tree trunk.

When they came to him the images were incredibly vague and very quick, so quick that he knew he was missing some. He saw Ranma running, and then armies clashing. One army was of men, the other of wights and worse things. He saw fleets moving. He saw holdfasts taken, keeps falling, and the dead rising but for these visions there were no hints as to where these battles were taking place or a sense of time, and they passed so quickly, their hold on his mind so thin he couldn't get anything from them. They faded, one after another, leaving no information he could act on save a sense of urgency, of cold and war.

Yet there was one image that did stay in his head, not for long, but just enough to give him some useful information. It showed dragons made of rotted flesh, dark black steel and ice, attacking a longhouse Jon had seen many times before.

Taking his hand away, Jon shook his head to clear of the effects of being touched by the Old God's power. Seven damn it, that was, that was odd. I suppose being so far south it shouldn't come as a surprise the visions weren't exactly clear, but still, it's obvious the Old Gods are calling me north. But… but I was sent into the Reach to aid it's people with the problems here, I can't just abandon that mission. Besides, I couldn't get any sense of time out of any of those visions. Are they from events happening now? Are they happening in a weeks' time, months? I can't tell!

The next day he confided what he had seen to Arya while the girl prowled the castles training room waiting for Edric to show up for their daily sparring session, it pouring down rain outside. The boy was getting much better, and he was sneaky, which against Arya was very important, and she enjoyed their spars, despite the fact Jon, Like Ranma, would always smirk whenever he saw the two of them together.

When he finished she frowned heavily. "I don't like this! I think we should head home right away. Who knows what's been going on elsewhere, if Ranma's still fighting the Red Witch, Stannis, and Viserys then we might be the only ones able to get away at all, whatever that one glimpse of our brother running might mean! It's our duty to head home and do what we can, leave these soft southerners to their own problems!"

"It would take us months to get there, Old God's damn me, it would take you and I running with our direwolves more than two months to even get to the Neck, then another month maybe to get to Winterfell. Which might not be where we're most needed! And as good as we are Arya, alone we can only do so much. No, I have a better idea. Oldtown still retains some of its navy, and there's the army under Garlan, and under Sir Bryce and Willas to consider. When we go north, I want us to go with the entire weight of the remaining Reach forces behind us. I even think I know where we need to go, too."

The two siblings however ran into a surprise when they confided what Jon had seen to Margaery later that day. The three of them met in her room, ostensibly to discuss her training, or at least working out, with Arya. When told of Jon's visions Margaery nodded, taking it at face value despite it flying in the face of traditional Seven doctrine to acknowledge the power of other faiths.

"The maesters are being strangely coy about it, but we know that the black candles have been lit. Further one of the Archmaesters, the only one willing to aid him against the Ironborn's own magical abilities, has convinced Garlan to head north. At least, he was doing so the last time I had communications with him. He wanted to take the Shield Islands, then turn his ships northward. We haven't heard from him yet about that."

"Would he have to resupply after taking back the Shield Islands?" Jon asked intently.

"Yes. This would force him to head back to the Whispering Sound at least. From there ships from Oldtown could go out to resupply them. Or he could use Bandallon without losing much time. But since we haven't heard from him yet, I think he didn't think about that one." Margaery shrugged. "My brother is smart and reckoned a decent swordsman, but in terms of strategy he's not very experienced."

"Ouch, such a ringing endorsement." Arya laughed. "Still, that might mean we could meet with his fleet in the Whispering Sound right?"

But Jon was shaking his head. "No, at least not yet. We need to know what happened in the Shield Islands first. If we've smashed the Ironborn's remaining strength, fine, but I don't want any surprises. I don't want to march off like Mace did with the remaining strength of the Reach only to have someone else sneak in behind us."

"This is good thinking." Margaery said with a thin smile. "Does that mean you'll still deal with the raiders that are still around the Mander?"

"Yes." Jon said nodding decisively. "Besides that, I wish to remain here in Highgarden long enough to talk to your brother. Between the three of us I think we can figure out the best forces to stay and what is to go."

"Maybe," Arya said with a shrug. "We can hope at least, though I heard an interesting phrase from some of the merchants in the city the other day." She waited until the other two were looking at her before speaking, trying to affect a smallfolk accent and failing miserably, which made the line all the more amusing. "Shit in one o' yer 'ands, hope in another, see which'n yer have ta empty first."

After they finished chuckling, Margaery shook her head, looking at the two siblings. "You two are very confident Ranma will win this war. Despite my hopes in backing him however, I have to admit to having some misgivings about it. Stannis has a reputation as a very good general."

"Not good enough." Jon said with a thin wolfish smile, one Arya shared, her hands clenched on the hilt of Fang. "Not nearly good enough."

OOOOOOO

Willas arrived two days later ahead of schedule, and once again the city's streets rebounded with cheers and salutations. Jon and Margaery rode out to meet him, leaving behind both Arya and the two direwolves in the godswood. There, in the center of the city Willas and Jon met for the first time, shaking hands in full view of the watching smallfolk and the army behind Willas.

"My Lord Tyrell." Jon said gravely, clasping the other man's hand in a warrior's grip. "I have heard tell of the good work you've been doing on the western front. You ended a blight on the land when you tore down Clegane Keep and did as a Lord Paramount ought in defending your people. As Hand to Ranma and Daenerys Stargaryen, first of their names, I formally, and happily, acknowledge and approve of your resumption of the Lord Parmountcy of the Reach."

"I could not have done it alone, and I have heard tell of your battle against the Dornish mercenaries my Lord Hand. Without you and your men, their ravages would've continued nigh onto the walls of Highgarden itself." Willas replied smiling briefly at the younger man.

His message said (and heard by more than Willas) Jon moved his horse backwards slightly, allowing Margaery to come close flinging her arms around her brother, nearly falling out of her own saddle with her exuberance. It was of course not very decorous of her, but neither sibling cared as they clutched one another in a hug that was as heartfelt as it was strong.

Later that day the two army's commanders met in the castle's dining hall, and the men shared the details of their campaigns. Jon found Willas to be insightful, intelligent, thoughtful, calm and very droll at times. All things Jon felt were excellent to see in a Lord Paramount, especially in a realm that has faced so much turmoil.

In a small ceremony Jon handed over marks of nobility to Toulev Simthson, bequeathing him with, after talking about it to Margaery, the wiped out House Osgrey's former holding of Coldmoat. While Coldmoat itself was still a very large and well-built castle, the lands had fallen into disrepair and it would need a lot of work to flourish again. But Toulev didn't seem them kind of man to shirk from hard work, and the smiles on nearly everyone's faces as the former armsmen accepted the mark of nobility was everything Jon could hope for.

Two Knightly Houses, House Conklyn and HouseWillumwere raised to Noble status thanks to the service they and their men had given in the War. They were awarded lands along the Mander which had formerly been held by House Graves, Dunn and Westbrook. All three had been wiped out by the Ironborn. Their lords had subsequently been killed elsewhere in the war either by Stannis or through their own treachery. Of course putting those lands back into working order would be a major undertaking, but House Tyrell and the crown via Jon had already pledged their support to it.

The last portion of these proceedings however was a surprise to everyone, even Margaery. "As Hand, it would not normally fall under my power to create new knighthoods," said Jon looking around at the ladies and men gathered in Highgarden's dining hall. "However, my brother, my King and his queen bade me do this, in their name. Ser Graceford, step forward."

Still wearing his full plate armor minus his helm Graceford did so, and when Jon gestured, he knelt. "Your House has long been known to worship the Mother specifically of the Seven, and to rarely take part in wars save when one side or another made war upon the Mother's children. The king and queen have no desire to change this, rather to see this used as a platform for a new knighthood."

"Ser Graceford, I award thee the commandership of the Order of the Mother's Fist. You will have a crown remit to welcome any and all into your ranks, from both nobility and smallfolk. Your order will receive funding from the crown, and you will be able to second any armsmen or knight to your service. A suitable keep will be found to house the order in time, though for now we all obviously have better things to do with our time than go house hunting."

There were some laughs at Jon's small joke, but he went on seriously, staring down into Graceford's eyes. "Your purview will be to defend those who cannot defend themselves, the smallfolk, from the depredations of any who would prey upon them, regardless of where they hide, bandits, deserters, mercenary bands, Ironborn raiders, it matters not, it will be your task to hunt them down. Do you accept this burden before crown and god?"

"My Lord Hand, in the name of the Mother and their majesties, I do." Ser Graceford replied calmly.

"Then rise, Lord Commander Graceford." Jon said with a smile.

Later that evening as he and Jon shared a bottle of wine in Willas' personal office, Willas said. "That was well done, with both Toulev and Graceford. Appropriate, well-earned and I could not think of a better man to lead an Order with such a specific task."

While technically Willas could move into his father's rooms and his office, Willas had decided to wait until the office could be redecorated. Despite their estrangement he loved Mace and moving in when all of his things were still in there seemed a desecration. Besides, his own room was warm, familiar, and further from the wine cellar, a good thing in his opinion. Willas had no desire to fall into his father's bad habits.

"I only spoke the truth, the reports we saw of your deeds and those of your men were pretty complete as such things go. Besides which, the new knightly order will be a major aid in days to come." Considering that Knightly Orders like that could induct anyone into their ranks regardless of birth, it would be a way of getting more smallfolk into a military position, which could only aid in the knighthood's task of wiping out brigands and defending the smallfolk. And they could also serve as pointed reminders to nobles of all stripes to play nice. After this last war that might not be as necessary as it once was, but it was still a consideration.

Willas nodded, and the two of them continued to sip from the wine bottle and discuss the war and its causes, as well as what Jon felt was happening elsewhere. Rumors had begun to spread of some kind of battle that went on near the King's Road, which saw the Lannister's false king finally laid low, but no details had reached the Reach just yet.

They also of course talked about the future. Jon outlined what he and Margaery had already accomplished, with Willas adding his own points of view, before sending for a servant to bring in a map of the Reach. From there the two of them began to work on redrawing the map, working through the noble Houses which had, to their knowledge been wiped out root and branch. Dunn, Graves, Westbrook, Chester, Grimm, Risley, Hewett, Ylelshire, Uffering, Kidwell, Inchfield, Redding, the list of dead Houses was long and depressing. Worse in a way was the list of Houses still alive but crippled militarily.

It made for grim work, but House Tyrell at least would come out of this war even stronger than it had been before, controlling large segments of the Mander on either side of its previous area of control. It now spread down to Oldflowers and the lands around it, and up towards House Fossoway's land. House Bushy, whose land had been between Fossoway and House Tyrell before, had been wiped out in the battle between the stags. Thanks to this, Tyrell's lands had increased by at least half again.

The other noble Houses, those that survived the coming clash between Stannis and Ranma, would also come out of it in a stronger position, at least in time. Right now however, several Houses had already proven themselves.

House Beesbury had suffered in war, but the House had many branching families and their lands had not suffered the sting of the Ironborn. While the extent of their losses in war could not be known until the War ended and the survivors came home, the House would survive, as would House Ambrose.

While most of that Houses forces were intact from last report, if they remained loyal to Stannis, that would probably cease, and the main house was small, so their long term fortunes were still in doubt. Their lands however, situated slightly southeast of where Willas had halted the Lannister reavers, had not been despoiled,. Lady Ambrose had also been open-handed in aiding the refugees that saught her lands despite sending no men to aid Willas in his efforts.

Oakheart would retain its lands and gain some more from its southern neighbors, the Kidwells and the Reddings all of whom were gone now. Rowan had been hammered badly, but while neither Jon nor Willas had any idea if Mathis Rowan was still alive, the House was still there, and it's castle still powerful and well maintained thanks to Lady Rowan, Mathis' wife they might even be awarded House Woodbright's land, since that House was also listed among the destroyed. House Crane would also enrich itself by taking command of former Westerlands land. And the Houses by Oldtown and in the Dornish Marches were still somewhat strong. House Blackbar, Bulwer, Cuy and Mullendore might have lost their lords and heirs to war, but retained their lands and some of their military strength. Frankly those houses were probably better off without the idiotic 'summer knights' that had previously led them.

Of the marcher House's only House Tarly had truly suffered in this war so far, it's lord dead with the majority of the men it had sent to war. But the Valyrian blade of the house was still in it's possession and the survivors had returned. The house would no doubt recover in time, though it would not receive any material aid in doing so. Instead, the young lord would need to present himself to the Royal House at some point in the future.

Several hours later the wine they had consumed began to mess with their thoughts enough that they had to leave off for the day, with Willas smiling slightly as they did. "By the way, I don't suppose I could interest you in letting me introduce Ghost to some of my dogs? I doubt I've any studs who'd pass muster for Nymeria, mores the pity. Still, I'd love to see what would happen if we could somehow breed a direwolf with some of my lines."

Jon laughed. "That actually might have already happened somewhere. Ranma told me about this time with Fenris when the two of them were travelling to King's Landing with Robert Baratheon and father. According to Ranma they stayed at an inn, and Fenris was forced to stay outside in the kennels where…"

OOOOOOO

The siege of the Last Hearth had become a thing of sporadic raids and attritional warfare. Most of the time the White Walkers stayed as far out of arrow range as they could, sending in clumps of wight archers in their stead. Attacking mostly under the cover of darkness or when the sky was heavily overcast, they would attack one section of the wall with a few volleys before retreating. Occasionally they would send in large clumps of wights at this or that point along the wall, testing the defenders more severely. But there were enough defenders to rest in shifts, so those on watch were always well-rested.

It was the bitter cold more than anything that was beginning to dampen morale. The cold of this winter was sapping even to Northerners, and too few of them had enough warm clothing to truly cover themselves adequately. Dozens of men had lost fingers or noses, or ears to the cold, more so than they had lost men to the attacks of the enemy, since that first day anyway. And the lack of any real attacks or true targets was also sapping the defenders martial ardor.

Food at least isn't an issue, thought Hother as he cracked his neck explosively, moving into his personal quarters with a sigh of relief when the heat from the coal stoked fire met him. We also haven't used my final little surprise yet, and it doesn't look as if the White Walkers have any idea it's out there, which is good. Still, I can't help but feel that there's going to be worse to come. Much worse.

This alas was true. That first assault had been directed solely by warriors, White Walkers who did not use magic save that found in their armor and weapons. Cannon fodder, in other words. The next assault began nearly two weeks after the siege began, and the first sign that it was different came from a scream from the wall. "By the Old Gods, what is that?!"

Andrew Willowtree shot to his feet, quickly bundling himself up as much as possible before racing outside. It would do no good for his men if he died because of the cold of suffered any of the dozen ailments that came from not remembering to do so. Even so, he beat Hother to the parapet simply because he was younger and in better shape. So he was the first of the commanders to see the horror that was coming towards them over the snow.

It was a giant spider like those the defenders of the Wall had seen but rather than being ten stories or more tall, this one was only a 24 feet from the tip of its head down to its feet. Yet even so, it was altogether horrifying, made of ice and bodies thrown together rather than the steel of those being used further north. It had an incomplete, haphazard look to it, but even so it and the seven others following it were things of horror to the defenders. From above that monstrous force came birds, thousands of them. It was as if the avians of a forest had been hunted down and turned to the White Walkers purpose.

With these new terrors came old ones. The defenders had hoped against hope that the horde of wights they had dealt with that first day had been the totality of their enemy's forces, but it was obviously not the case. They had been reinforced somewhat, the horde strengthened back to its original size, and more White Walkers could be seen at the back of it horde. There were even White Walkers on top of the spiders, six on each.

For a moment this site of that magical horde drew Sir Andrew's breath out of his body. Then he shook himself, and bellowed "To arms! To arms!"

The defenders began the battle firing a fusillade of fire arrows at the oncoming horde, while the best archers among them coolly waited, there gloved hands working on their bow strings as they waited for the giant spiders to come within range. They did so far faster than the defenders had hoped, moving as fast as spiders of normal size could over the hard-packed snow.

The first few dragonglass arrowheads struck, but didn't do much, the spiders shrieked like the wights would when on fire, but didn't slow down. They didn't charge the castle yet however, preferring to stay back, allowing the wights time to force the defenders to spread their fire. A few White Walkers on the back of those beasts took the better angle to fire they allowed to fire at the defenders, causing death and injury everywhere around the wall. In return several White Walkers fell dead from dragonglass arrows. Even a nonlethal hit with one was enough to kill a White Walker, if slowly and a great deal of pain.

But it was the birds that caused the defenders the most grief. They zoomed down, far more numerous than the defenders fire could fight off. Hundreds of birds fell but thousands came on, overwhelming the defenders in places, pecking the men on the parapet or on the top of the towers to death.

Yet they didn't discriminate between the archers and the regular armsmen, and attacking like this brought them within range of the swords and axes of the defenders. For every man they went down, hundreds of birds did as well. As the battle continued more of the defenders raced to the walls the attrition beginning to work in the defender's favor.

But after the last group of birds was seen off, Andrew turned and stared as the first of the wights reached the bottom of the wall. "Light the ropes! Do it now!"

To one side an armsmen looked at him in surprise, while others simply raced off to carry out his orders. "Don't we want them to start climbing the outer wall first?"

Andrew shook his head grimly pointing with his sword at the spider creatures who were now circling ever closer despite what the archers with dragonglass could do to them. Worse, their own losses were beginning to mount. The White Walkers had a skill with the bow that had to be seen to be believed. "No, those things will be on us at the same time, and I don't think we want to face them both. "

"Surely the fire will scare the spiders off as well?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Andrew said shrugging philosophically. "Best to spread the word to start husbanding of the dragonglass arrows too, I don't think they're doing more than irritating those spiders."

It was well Andrew had thought of that, because the defenders had already gone through more than half their remaining dragonglass arrows, though they still retained a goodly number of dragonglass daggers. These had already seen work in this battle, dealing with the injured birds that had fallen within the confines of the Castle, as well as the dead among the defenders. It was gristly work, but necessary to keep them from rising as wights.

The battle continued for some time, with the fires of the trap on the wall lighting the evening for a time. The spiders continued to march around the castle searching for an opening where there were wasn't any fire nets, but not finding any. But unlike the first day while the wights and the White Walkers kept their distance from the fire, they did not retreat entirely. Arrows continued to fly from both sides, and snow continued to fall.

Eventually the fire along the ropes went out, slowly but surely dissipating, and the horde charged forward. The spiders led the way now, but Andrew and Hother were ready. "Archers, fire at the ditches!"

With that phrase hundreds of archers all along the walls shifted targets, aiming not towards the attacking wights or spiders, but at the ditches filled with coal. Those ditches coverings had been smashed aside by the weight of the spiders leaving the coal, all of which had been soaked in vegetable oil before being placed out there open to their fire arrows.

The coal burst into flames and heat, turning the wood that had previously covered the ditches into fuel, putting up a wall of heat and fire here and there around the Last Hearth. One spider got caught directly in this trap and burned with a keening wail, along with the white walkers that had been riding it. Two others lost their front legs and fell backwards, tumbling their riders to the ground. Three more were badly burned, and only the first to attack had advanced far enough to be completely miss the trap.

It tried to ascend the walls, only to face hundreds of fire arrows, all of the defenders along that wall now retargeting on it. The magic that made it go simply couldn't protected from that number of fire arrows, and it began to collapse, allowing the defenders to retarget the rest of the injured spiders and their former riders before they could get out of range.

While their men were seeing to this, Andrew and Hother stood on top of the gatehouse frowning heavily. "I said to myself last night that we might be able to last out years if that first attack was the best they could throw at us. Now I'm afraid I might have inadvertently brought this fate upon us."

Andrew shook his head. "I don't really believe fate can be tempted like that. Although, you're right when you say we won't be lasting out years." He turned watching as man began to gather up the dead, quickly counting more than 200 bodies simply within his line of sight. "We won't last months if they can throw attacks like that at us. And worse, that coal out there won't last forever."

"Oh there's even worse than that boy." Hother growled, looking at one of the dead birds. "That there is the raven we've got trained for Winterfell. We can't even get the word out now."

Hother stared at the bird, then at Andrew, before turning to stare at the army outside their walls. Then he shrugged, threw back his shoulders and turned to organize a work party to dispose of the dead birds littering the parapet.

OOOOOOO

Willas and Jon looked up from their conversation about logistics when the door to Jon's room, which they were using this evenings for their planning session, banged open. In the doorway stood Lord Dondarrion, smiling widely while behind him Edric stood, shaking his head yet still wearing an equally large smile. "She has been faithful! Allyria still wishes to marry me!" Lord Dondarrion blurted, then without another word rushing over to the wine bottle set on the table between Willas and Jon.

He poured himself a generous glass, raised it slightly to the two men still staring at him before downing it in one long gulp. When he put it down he was strangely enough sounding more sober than he had before. "We received a reason from House Dayne. They formally pledge allegiance to the new Royal House, and only ask that the Lord Dayne be allowed to return to home."

Then his smile was back, wider than ever. "She also asks specifically that I return him to the House, so that we may finally be married. She is looking forward to hearing my tales, and to seeing me again."

Willas smiled, standing up to clap the other man on the shoulder heartily. "I'm happy for you," he said simply. Then he smiled sardonically. "My own marriage doesn't seem to be on the horizon, alas."

"We'll have to look into that I suppose," Jon said with a faint smile his own. "Do you have any… preferences?"

"Bite your tongue." Willas spat back, shuddering a little. "Let me have another few years of bachelorhood before you and my grandmother conspired between the two of you to end that happy state, please."

The three men laughed, and Edric who had remained in the doorway shook his head closing the door, leaving them to it.

Smiles were remarkably absent the next evening however, when Maester Lomys and Margaery joined them. Margaery watched as Jon read the message from Winterfell, internally noting that this was yet another sign that Jon and Ranma were true brothers. Where other families would rage and shout, glare angrily, or strike out about them, the Starks did something much more terrifying. Something Ranma had shown her when he learned of the true depths of Gregor Clegane's crimes.

They stilled. Everything about them went hard cold and still, save for his grey eyes which seemed to snap with an inner fire, much like the lava in a volcano. What was more terrifying was that Arya, Ghost and Nymeria all went cold and quiet as well, despite not having actually read the message yet. They were simply reading Jon somehow, reacting as a pack would.

She exchanged a glance with Willas, who nodded back understanding what she had seen, before looking back at Jon. As Lord Paramount of the Castle Margaery had of course handed the message to him first, but he had immediately handed it over to Jon, not reading it. "What does it say?"

"The White Walkers have found a way around the Wall. They first took Skagos, pushed back a force my family had sent there to bring the Islanders to heal, and are now on the mainland. And this was weeks ago!" Jon replied before handing the message over to Willas. He turned to stare down at the map of the Reach, which the three of them had again been working on that evening. "How long would it take us to get Oldtown from here?"

"On a straight march 3 and 1/2 weeks… I think." Margaery said calculating quickly. "If you can march as quickly down the Roseroad as you did from the Blackwater to the Mander anyway." She looked at Arya, who nodded back having told Margaery how many days that portion of the journey had taken during one of their practice sessions. "But you can't simply head down to Oldtown immediately, there are still questions that need to be answered here in the Reach. Lord Bryce, the raiders along the Mander, House Florent and Peake in particular. Also remember what you said, you don't want to take all of the Reach's defenders with you."

Jon's hands clenched and unclenched, but he wasn't looking at her, instead looking out the window. "Those visions I told you about were real. I can't imagine my brother leaving Stannis intact behind him, which means he's won this war. The Army is on its way back, my brothers already probably in the North somewhere, and I him stuck here in the Reach!"

"I told you then, the Reach matters more than its men-at-arms!" Margaery said sharply, smacking her hand down on Jon's making him turn his gaze to her his eyes wide for a moment as he come back from that dark angry place. "We have to put the Reach to order, we have to get food moving into the Riverlands and the Stormlands, or else we will face famine in those places all too soon, and the chaos will spread! And to do that we need to deal with the remaining threats here. Do you think Ranma would thank you for running off and leaving those problems to fester?"

"I understand that up here but not here." Jon said after a moment staring into her eyes and tapping his forehead before tapping his chest. "Still you're right, and regardless of how slow Bryce's moving, I think it's time that we start dealing with some of these issues."

"I've already sent a messenger demanding to know his intentions to Lord Floret." said Willas. "Your men have been training ours, and both our forces are decently rested, though I think some of your horses still need some more rest. You drove them hard on the march. Still, if aren't going to wait for the pike regiments to be ready, we can march any day."

At Arya's feet Nymeria sniffed audibly, turning her nose up, as if saying that discussions about horses were beneath her dignity, causing Ghost to chuff in the laughter of his kind. Arya smirked at the two direwolves, tuning out the following discussion first time as she played with Nymeria's ears.

Jon nodded, then moved over to a larger map of Westeros. Unlike the map of the Reach this one wasn't well detailed. It had no lines denoting the borders of the various Great House's lands, only major castles were showed at all and a few scattered landmarks. "Tell me good maester, do you know if Maidenpool, Harrenhal, Harroway or Duskendale have ravens trained for Highgarden? And if so, how long would it take to get a message from them to here?"

MaesterLomyswas an old man, a distant cousin of the House whose loyalty to them was unquestionable. He frowned in thought, then shook his head slowly. "I do not think Harrenhal, Harroway or Maidenpool would. At least, I have not seen any ravens from those places since before Robert's Rebellion. Duskendale might, however. If a raven comes from that city it would take possibly nine or ten days to get here."

Jon nodded, estimating times and distances in his head. "What are you thinking of?" Margaery asked, though she already had a good idea.

"I'm thinking of how quickly my brother and Daenerys could get word to us of their victory, and by my calculations it should be arriving here any day now." Any small doubt about that victory he might've had disappeared when he initially had his visions. There was no chance Ranma or Daenerys would have left any cohesive enemy behind them to take to sea or run off, which meant the war was over. I just have to get word of that to Bryce somehow, and one of my problems at least will go away.

He turned back to stare at the map, which denoted where Bryce Caron's army was. They were marching at a okay pace for a normal army of this time, which meant a hell of a lot slower than any army Ranma and Jon had involved with. There were still at least two days out from Highgarden, and what Bryce would do when he arrived was still a question. "I have no idea where that battle occurred between Ranma and Stannis but…"

"it wasn't just your brother and Stannis," said a familiar crackling voice from the doorway, and they all turned to see Olenna being helped in by two maids. She held up a message of her own, smirking slightly. "There was also Viserys' army coming down from Maidenpool. One of my factors, the only one I have in that town got word to me. Does that change the equation young Wolf?"

"Not at all." Jon said with a shrug. "Viserys might have a decent sized force, but it would be an untried one, and frankly there is no general in the world to match my brother. As for his dragon, it could be a problem I suppose but one Daenerys could match."

"The Red Witch could give him problems though," Margaery reposted shaking her head. "Magic on one side, a dragon on the other, I don't know Jon, Ranma is good, but it is he that good as a general?"

Jon and Arya exchanged a complacent smile. "Yes…" Arya said finally looking up from where she had been playing with Nymeria's ears. "Yes he is."

Bryce's army arrived at the gates of Highgarden two days later, by which time a message had indeed arrived from Duskendale by raven wing, beating any message Olenna's spies could send easily. It was a short message declaring victory and Stannis's death, as well as the surprising appearance of the Golden Company under another Targaryen pretender. Olenna had looked aghast at that, shaking her head and muttering about old plans that should never have seen the light of day, but Jon frankly didn't care to question her about it. He had other fish to fry.

When informed of this message Lord Caron was relieved and immediately placed his army at Jon and Willas' service. Even though many of his commanders urged him to wait and make certain that this message was real, Bryce knew Willas, and the Starks in particular were not at home with such subterfuge.

Jon and Willas promptly began to break that force up, adding a few thousand horsemen to the force that Jon would take along the Mander to clear out the remaining Ironborn. Ser Graceford became Jon's second in command on this mission.

Willas would lead another, larger force straight to Oldtown along the Rose road for now, before the force would split in two. Lord Caron and the majority of his army would go with Lord Dondarrion, marching straight down to the southern marches to meet the Marcher Houses. Most of those Houses had stopped and turned around once word reached them through the smallfolk that the army under Oberyn had been smashed, but House Peake was still moving, heading towards a meeting with House Floret's forces. The other half of the force would continue the march to Oldtown under Willas.

At the same time Willas also send a message down to Oldtown, ordering House Hightower to prepare enough ships to embark a further 7,000 men, which was as much as Willas, Jon and Margaery could agree to add to Garlan's force, which itself would lose at least it's remaining cavalry arm. This would allow the Reach to retain a decent sized force at home.

It would leave them with enough infantry to reinvest several of the keeps along the Mander and send a force up to the Shield Islands to do the same with them. The cavalry, which would make up the larger portion of the army, would also keep up the anti-bandit activities and back up Lord Dondarrion down in the Passes. In the same vein, several of the war galleys which currently served under Garlan would also be left behind to patrol the Reach coastline and the islands.

The reason for this was because a message from Garlan had reached Highgarden about a week ago from Oldtown. In it, Garlan gave an account of the battle of the Arbor, and the aborted invasion of the Shield Islands. The fact that five or six crews worth of Ironborn that should have been in those islands were now unaccounted for was disturbing in the extreme.

They needn't have bothered worrying about them however. While he was a rapist, a murderer, a sociopath, a torturer without conscious and practically anything else anyone could think of, one thing that Euron Greyjoy was not was stupid. Nor was he interested in glory, holding lands, or proving the worth of the Old Way.

Euron was interested in power, and had come back thinking that he could gain such power through the throne of the Iron Islands. With the destruction of much of the Iron Island's military capacity, the news that the Islands themselves were being invaded, and that every hand was now turned against them, Euron had decided not to attempt anything.

Instead, he had slipped past Garlan's fleet in the night, heading to the Shield Islands. There he convinced the captains of the crews still there through violence or words to follow him now that his brothers were both dead. And instead of heading home to the Iron Islands, he had taken them on a roundabout course further south. The Summer Islands beckoned with easy spoils, easy life, slaves and women aplenty. Especially since pirates had already attacked the only town in the Summer Islands and heavily damaged its defenses in the battle.

The very next day Jon marched out at the head of his army, which did not include Arya. She had opted to go with Edric and Lord Dondarrion, saying something about protecting her stake. Why that set Margaery into gales of laughter Jon didn't know, though the fact that the two women were grinning at one another as Arya said it made Edric blush and stammer, something Jon found telling.

The fact those two got on so well together was a surprise Jon mused as he trotted at the head of the Army. Despite Willas offering him one of the finest horses Jon had ever seen as his own, he had declined to ride. Thanks to Ranma's training Jon could race any horse into the ground over a distance, and there was no point to having one simply for show at this point, everyone who mattered knew not to judge Jon by the fact he was an infantryman. If the two of them hadn't gotten along it would've been a disaster, but they seem to have certain similar interests.

Margaery had yearned for years to learn about anything that pointed and stabbed, a predilection that Arya was happy to cultivate. In turn Arya was interested in history, and surprisingly land management. While she wasn't interested in all of the normal womanly duties, she certainly was interested in knowing whether or not her future husband was doing his job properly. An interest that Margaery in turn cultivated in her.

There were still some differences of course. Margaery was certain that women could wield greater power hidden behind the shadow of a man then could ever be the case in this day and age by themselves. Law, custom society, even religion did not allow for women to truly be seen the equal of men save possibly at the Royal level. Arya however was wedded to the power of combat.

He paused at the gate of Highgarden seeing lady Margaery waiting there astride a horse along with several dozen men, only two of whom looked like men at arms. "My lady, it's kind of you to see us off yourself but…"

"I am not seeing you off, my Lord Hand." Margaery said, falling in next to him smiling down at him from the saddle as she languidly reached out to pet Ghost on the back of the head. Like Fenris, Ghost was a monster of his breed, his head equal to the withers of her horse and broader across in the body. The direwolf rumbled happily under her scratching, smirking as only a wolf could at Jon's confused expression.

"I am coming along to personally survey the lands damaged by the Ironborn," Margaery went on gesturing to the men behind her, most of whom looked as if they road just as well as a sack of potatoes. "These gentlemen are cartographers, masons, woodworkers and good men Roger and Morris who you already know. They will be able to tell me how long it will take to bring the lands that have been devastated by the Ironborn back to production and livability."

Jon looked at the two men and nodded, recognizing them now. They were the leaders of the refugees in the city, and he had met with the two of them twice before this, albeit in a more formal setting. They were farmers of some reputation, tough men who knew everything there was about farming.

"I see." Jon said with a moment. "That is useful. And now might I ask the real reason why you're coming along with us milady?"

"I no longer wish to remain behind when those I care about going to battle Jon Stark." Margaery said quietly, shaking her head. "Of those I care about marching out this day, you are most likely to face actual combat, ergo I will go with you." She smiled slightly, staring into his eyes in such a manner that Jon actually found himself blushing despite his normal self-control.

This was of course not missed by lady Margaery, who's smile widened into something almost wicked. "And, I suppose you could say that Arya and I have one thing in common, neither of us wishes to let our 'investment' out of our gaze."

Jon coughed again, ignoring Ghost's chuffing laughter and turned again towards the road, marching off without another word as Margaery fell in beside him giggling with the sound of tinkling bells.

OOOOOOO

When Sansa rode into Riverrun at last the crowd of smallfolk who had gathered to see her arrive paused in their cheering for a moment. Many of these men and women were old enough to remember Lady Catelyn, and to them it was as if she had come again, only this time to stay. Sansa sat proudly on her horse, her red hair flowing in the breeze, her face unmarked by any blemish without a hint of her Stark heritage in it, though the clothing she wore certainly gave that the lie. Her gaze was regal as it surveyed the crowd, but there was a hint of a smile on her face which indicated that she was happy to be there, and happy to see them all, somehow conveying the impression that it was a thought she had about all of them in turn.

The direwolf she rode also showed what family she came from. Fenris had refused to allow Sansa to ride a horse, and had equally refused to head off to meet up with his bonded until the red-haired packmate was safely in the southern den, something which Eddie wholeheartedly agreed with. Though as a mere human he of course missed most of the nuances.

Now however Fenris began to regret it as the cheers for 'Lady Sansa' rebounded all around him. Only Sansa clapping her hands over his ears prevented him from growling and snarling at the crowd.

They moved through the city quickly, heading to the castle while Sansa nodded cordially at the crowd to either side of her, shrugging apologetically occasionally to indicate that she couldn't actually wave at present. The site of the young lady riding the direwolf with her hands clasped over his ears sent many a man or woman into fits of laughter, though the guards following Sansa did not take part in the pleasure. Instead all of them from Edd on down scanned the crowd and the roofs all around them as they marched watching out for anything dangerous. They've been caught flat-footed once, it would not happen again.

They were met in the courtyard of the castle by the steward Utherydes, who bowed to Sansa when she got off Fenris' back. The direwolf stood beside her, a monstrous shadow to the somewhat slight Sansa, as she smiled winsomely. "My Lord, is my castle and city ready for me?"

"It is my lady," said the elderly man. "May I present the maester of the castle, and the head maid?"

"You may." If Utherydes was uncomfortable about handing over control of the castle to what amounted to a complete stranger and a woman to boot he did not show it.

Sansa mentally put a checkmark next to the man's name for that while smiling politely at the servants when they were introduced. Yet when she was asked if she wanted to retire for the day she declined quickly. "No, I wish to meet with the town Council, the head of the city guard, and the bursar. Especially I wish to meet with any head of the refugees that have been formed."

The steward's eyebrows went up, but he nodded his head and gestured for her to follow him inside. Over the next few hours Sansa did meet with those worthies, laying out what she wanted to know about the town and what was going to happen in the future. First she installed the Stark men who had come with her in command of the city watches patrols, not the entire watch but the various small guard outposts. Those men wouldn't have been very good at organizing or leading the entire watch, but they would make excellent trainers and leaders at the squad level.

She also informed the townspeople of her plans for the refugees who were still within the town and on the western bank of the Red Fork. Sansa was happy to see that much of the work on their temporary homesteads was proceeding apace, and she opened the coffers of the castle to pay for some more housing, and more wood and coal to be brought in since winter's cold had followed her down from the Neck.

This fact dominated the discussion from start to finish. Food, preparation for, storage of, and the need to stay warm were therefore the main topics of discussion. Sansa had several ideas in particular when it came to storing wood and coal that the Riverrun natives hadn't thought of, though she was happy to hear they had heard back from Myr about the glass for the glass garden designed by Vincent Ryger. Work had already begun on that project's foundations, but it would be at least another two months before the needed glass arrived.

The idea of turning the entire courtyard into a storage area for coal and wood made the castellan and head maid nearly scream in horror, but Sansa stood firm. "It's a giant storage area gentleman, cover it with tarps here and there, and you can use it to store coal or wood or anything. Trust me, warmth will be the main issue if it gets as cold as I fear."

It was well into the evening when Sansa was finished her first day's work and meet up with Edd and Ben for an evening meal. Despite the fact he should've been happy that they had finally arrived at their destination however Edd looked anything but. "Sansa, have you talked with maester Vyman yet?

Sansa frowned at him, dabbing at some soup with a piece of bread before chewing on it with relish. They did something to the bread here in Riverrun, added some hint of rosemary to it that just enhanced the flavor. "No, I haven't yet. I wanted to set aside an entire day to go over the plans for the Healing Hall that you mentioned, as well as anything we've heard from my siblings and Daenerys. Why?"

"That makes sense I suppose," Edd said somewhat grudgingly. "But the news from the North shouldn't wait, I'm astonished he didn't seek you out, but I suppose he doesn't want to start a panic here." He breathed in deeply then simply decided to blurt it out without trying to soften it. "The Wight Walkers really have found a way around the Wall. Lord Eddard sent a message here for Ranma detailing everything. The White Walkers are busy attacking the Bay of Seals, pushing even further south."

"You were right," he went shaking his head as Sansa stared at him in astonishment and not a little fear. "I should've left you at Crannogtown and headed back north."

"But you didn't, and despite the fact that I urged you not to, you were right." Sansa said sternly while Ben nodded in agreement.

"You can't blame yourself for something you didn't know Edd, not when you were acting in faith and honor. I take it however that you aren't going to wait around here for news of the army? You're just going to turn around?"

Sansa had already heard a broad description of the end of the war. A victory for her brother and his wife, a complete one over three different enemies which solidified their right to rule Westeros.

"I hope that Ranma's already responded to the news from the North, but even if they haven't my duty is clear. I need to get North as fast as I can, which means unfortunately I need to leave here as quickly as possible." Edd replied affirmatively.

"You leave tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." Edd replied with a nod. "I will rest here tonight, gather what supplies I can, grab a few dozen spare horses then I'm off." He smiled wanly. "Sorry to bring that up during the meal, but it had to be said."

Sansa nodded, wolfing down her soup quickly in an unladylike matter which caused both the young men to chuckle before standing up abruptly. "I'll meet with the maester now then we'll see what aid we can send. I doubt we'll be able to send much in the way of men, but tents, braziers, warm clothing maybe other supplies if we get them on the road now would be a major boon in the north…" Her voice faded to a mumble as she strode out waving absentmindedly to the young man she had left behind.

"She will make a magnificent Lady Tully," Ben said admiringly shaking his head. "This city and this castle will become far greater than it has ever been before with her at the helm."

"I hope so," Edd said with a smile, not bringing up any thoughts about how that might not happen if they didn't survive the winter. "I also hope she's happy here."

His eyes bore into Ben's for a second, and his smile disappeared. "You will have something to do with that happiness. You and I both know you won this little battle between the two of us long since, hells I admitted that much back in Crannogtown, but that does not mean that I do not care for her. I do."

"Remember what Ranma said, Sansa needs no strong arm, she already has his and mine. Be whatever Sansa needs you to be, her husband, her confidant, her aid, her friend more than anything. Do not try to usurp her power, or take over for her. And if you harm Sansa, I will find out. Then I will challenge and kill you. Do not doubt it, not the challenge, nor the killing."

All this was deliberate in the same even called tone, making the words all the more frightening, though Ben did not flinch from them. He simply smiled faintly. "If I was the type to usurp her power or harm Sansa in any way I would not have won her heart, nor given her mine. I love lady Sansa, and I will not harm her, not with word or deed. You have my promise."

Edd nodded, and the two men young man returned to their meal without another word.

Edd was gone the next day as dawn broke, pausing only to bid farewell to Sansa, kissing her on the forehead before admonishing her to look after herself. He exchanged nods with Ben and the Stark and Tully men that had made the trip with them, before hopping into the saddle riding out of the castle and then Riverrun the town without another word. Behind him he lead a string of a dozen of the best horses in the castle. He would need them all if he was to make up for lost time.

Later that same day Sansa announced her upcoming marriage to Ben Blackwood and immediately began to plan out their wedding. Unlike in her dreams when she had pined for Joffrey, this ceremony however was not going to be a grandiose affair. Over the next few days it coalesced into a small service in the godswood, much to the chagrin of many of her new smallfolk, and in particular the septon assigned to Riverrun. "I am of the North, and I was raised in both faiths. When I am thinking about it, I look to the Seven, but my instincts are to the Old Gods, and my spouse too believes in them."

Ben nodded at that, and added, "Besides which, with the fact that the Seven have haled Ranma and Daenerys their champions does it really matter which religion you worship?"

At Sansa's heels Fenris chuffed in laughter, and the septon and the other objectors among her counsel subsided quickly. Two days later, the ceremony began in the godswood, with only one real surprise. Where the bride was supposed to be walked to her new Lord by her father, Fenris stood instead, walking beside her as a visible expression of House Stark's power. It caused some consternation among the onlookers, and more than one rumor was started because of it, but Sansa and Ben didn't care. They only had eyes for one another, as she moved to stand with him in front of the ancient weirwood tree.

After the ceremony ended came the feast with Ben and Sansa sitting at the lord's table in front of a bed brought out for their first night together, smiling politely at all the cheers and well-wishers. At the same time they were trying hard not to glance into one another's eyes for too long, blushing and stuttering head every time they caught one another's expression. That this caused the crowd of guests to laugh did nothing to help their composure.

Soon enough however it was time for the portion of the ceremony this Sansa had dreaded: the bedding. Even if she had married under the Faith of the Seven this portion of the marriage would not have been any better. It was important to see the proof that the woman's maidenhead was still intact, no matter how demeaning it was. And despite the fact that she had ordered the wine spiked as Ranma had for his marriage, there were more than a few men who were still awake and moving about.

"And now for the bedding!" Shouted one of them, and two others seized Ben from behind, while two more began to pull off his clothing. Four others grabbed Sansa in turn, starting to rip off her dress.

Their hands flinched away from her however at a very loud and very deep growl from Fenris. Suddenly he wasn't simply lounging around behind Sansa, no he was standing, staring at the crowd, his fangs bared. The man all around Sansa quickly retreated, staring at the Wolf. "M-My lady, can't you send it…"

At that point Fenris bounded forward, head-butting one man into another and then smacking them both into a third with a paw that didn't have any of its claws out. All three men went down with a cry and several curses, while Fenris moved through the crowd, smacking and pushing them, never drawing blood but making it clear that they were not welcome here any longer.

"HAHAHAHAHHAHA!" Sansa knew she should have been incensed at Fenris's unilateral act, but all she felt was relief. Relief, and a sort of bubbling laughter welling up from inside as she laughed and laughed.

Ben too laughed, taking her arm in his as he looked away from her body, much of which was on display now thanks to the men's efforts before Fenris had acted. "I had not been looking forward to having an audience in any event my lady, the sheets will have to do for those old biddies and men who wish to stick their noses where they do not belong."

"My thoughts exactly my Lord husband." Sansa said with a curtsy, which looked very odd indeed considering she was only wearing her silk chemise. She flushed as she felt the heat of Ben's gaze on her, staring over at Fenris who was now making his way back towards them, his entire body signifying extreme satisfaction. "Good Wolf…" she said reaching out a hand to rub his ears. "Good Wolf. And could you make certain were not disturbed?"

Fenris chuffed in laughter, licked her face once, causing her to back away gagging a little and for Ben to roll his eyes muttering something about "Oh joy, she's going to taste like a direwolf now" causing Sansa to blushed, before he turned away. Moments later the two young people were staring at one another in a hall that was devoid of other people.

The rest of that night the two of them explored one another as married couples should. While it was very painful for Sansa at first pleasure soon overrode that pain and the two of them continued to explore throughout the night.

The next morning two maids entered while Fenris padded in beside them. They took the bed sheets out to show the crowd which had gathered in the hallways. Sansa was awake and sipping something from a cup as she sat at the table, while Ben was gone, heading for a bath. She put down her cup as Fenris approached, smiling as he nuzzled into her shoulder then looked her in the eyes.

For some reason Sansa understood what the Wolf was trying to say. "You need to go don't you?" She said, scratching at his neck and shoulders. "You hear the call north just like Edd..."

Fenris nodded his head, pushing it against her shoulder for a moment and Sansa smiled. "Go then, my brother will have more need of you than I for certain. Thank you for all you've done for me and my family." she said throwing her arms around him in a sudden hug and whispering the words into his ear. "Thank you, and please keep them all safe as you did me."

Fenris huffed again, rubbing his head against the side of hers for a moment before pulling away licking her face once and then racing out of the room, out of the castle past several startled and frightened courtiers, and out into the town then beyond. He was heading home at last.

OOOOOOO

"They can't be serious, can they?" Asha asked caustically, staring at the small fleet of single-masted vessels swarming towards the southernmost cape of Harlaw. "I wonder how many of those ships capsized in the crossing? With the weather like it's been these days I wouldn't want to put it to sea in any of those."

"Ironic since you spent several days at sea in a similar boat." Rodrick said from next to her, where he too stood watching from a parapet of one of the four towers set to defend this small cape. They were very big towers, more a series of expanded caverns and murder holes hewn out of the rock of the surrounding cliff faces then man-made. They were very strong defensive positions, and if the cove they protected was bigger, this place would've been the center of House Harlaw's control rather than Ten Towers.

It wasn't however, moreover the seas were routinely choppy, no river fed into the cape allowing for faster travel deeper into Harlaw, and the surrounding land was scraggly at best, and stone at worst. The sea near the island was heavily dotted with rocks and shoals, many of which routinely sank beneath the waves only to rise later on, and no Ironborn had ever been able to correctly map fallout. In some ways it was like the Banefort, only much smaller and with slightly more treacherous seas, but without the inland farmland that made House Banefortself-sustaining.

The cove supported a small community of about 100 souls, mostly serfs with very few true Ironborn among them. It would normally have been completely ignored despite the defenses, except it was the closest cape in a straight line from the shores of Pyke, which had made the best place for any attacker to aim for if they wish to create a beachhead.

And if the greenlanders were facing any other Ironborn Lord that might well have worked, the speed advantage and the fact Ironborn don't think like that would have worked for them. Asha thought somewhat grimly. But against Rodrick the Reader, it's too obvious a move. And he doesn't respond like other Ironborn do either: he doesn't simply attack their attackers at sea, he's perfectly happy to sit on the defensive. And this time, well he's got me and my little toy on hand too.

"I would assume that this entire assault was pushed by the thralls rather than by the Lannister forces." Rodrick went on musingly. "They've been far too cagey about their own lives to throw them like this, but I could assume that someone among the thralls convinced them that this had a chance of working."

"And possibly tying any Ironborn response up here rather than where they're really attacking?"

"I don't suppose that they're actually attacking just yet, but it's a good idea. They might attack Great Wyk next. If they can liberate the mines of House Goodbrother,that would give them a far greater number of thralls than Saltcliffe or even a successful 'liberation' of Harlaw. And I doubt they realize we, the Ironborn as a whole, are no longer united."

Several weeks later Rodrick's guess word reached them that this was indeed the case. The Lannisters had used this attack like a diversion, not realizing they needn't have bothered, and attacked Great Wyk a few days after the battle. Unlike Rodrick's lighter touch the Great Wyk Houses never spared the rod, and had dozens of iron mines were they used thralls as their main workforce. Once a beachhead had been secured on Great Wyk and one of Goodbrother's mines secured giving the attackers more manpower, the outcome was pretty much assured.

Here and now however, Asha was going to show them that it wasn't going to go to that way with Harlaw. "What do you think old man, a little wind to start off with?"

Rodrick stared at her then down at the gauntlet she wore. It looked like a bronze gauntlet for the most with a very simple design. But along the forefinger and at each of the knuckles where extremely small etchings of lightning bolts, ships at sea, swords, and other images were carved, all immensely detailed. And on the palm of the gauntlet was a small, yellow gem stone. "You're the one with the God's Gift my dear, I believe it would behoove you to choose."

Asha laughed, then left the room heading up out onto the top of the cliff. A few archers were scattered around here and there on the cliff face, but most of them were down below where they were protected from wind and rain. These were merely spotters, whose task it was to use their higher and less obscured vantage point to spot any of the ships attacking getting too close and call in the fire of their fellows down below.

That wasn't going to happen now. Closing her eyes Asha brought the gauntlet up above her head, splaying her fingers out as if she was gripping the sky. As she did, Asha remembered what had happened in that cave, the vision she'd had. It hadn't been of the future or of events occurring at that time like Melisandre used. No this was from the past, an event that forever altered the history of the Ironborn. It showed the war in which the Storm God and the monster that was the Drowned God fought, when the Drowned God won supporters among the Storm God's followers through sweet words and a simple message.

'Whatever you do, the consequences will not matter. No consequences, no fear. Drown your enemies, drown your selves, feed the Drowned God and sailed the seas without fear or equal. Live on in song, story and above all the fear you cause in your enemies. And live on in my halls down below, fed by the deaths you cause.'

In comparison to the Storm God's message, which was of perseverance, teamwork, and toil bringing with them reward, it was a seductive message. And it, plus the magics the Drowned God had been able to give its followers, had won the support of the Ironborn. Without that support the Storm God's power had waned dramatically until only a few Houses still called to it, like Kenning, keeping it secret even from their own members at times. But that did not mean that its artifacts had lost their power when used by one whose will was up to the task.

At Asha's gesture a monstrous wind picked up all around her, ruffling her hair and her breaches before heading out to sea, gathering power all along the way until it was a gale. Slamming down into the sea it joined the torrential downpour that was already occurring out there. Suddenly faced with far faster, more powerful winds, only one or two boats out there were skilled enough to weather those first few moments. Others relying on their oars rather than sails lasted a few seconds longer before capsizing as the wind beat at their sides, smashing them into the rocks out there or simply pushing them under the waves, letting the ocean's power do the rest.

Each of those boats probably only had ten people or so on them, but they were a little over fifteen boats out there. A lot of thralls had just lost their lives in an attack they must've known was almost doomed to failure anyway. I wonder what that will do for the loyalty of their new subjects to their Lannister overlords? Or did they volunteer for this? DO they hate us that much?

Asha wasn't done just yet though. There was one more thing she had to do, a sort of a signature move of the Storm God. Clenching her gauntleted hand Asha ground her teeth at the sudden exhaustion, the magic she was working feeding off her body's energy, the yellow gem began to hum. After a brief second, Asha pointed her forefinger at the single war galley out there. It had stayed far back from the invasion force, ostensibly guarding the smaller ships as they made their way from Pike to Harlaw. Really it was there to see if anything actually happened in the attack, though it was also possibly carrying a load of weapons for any locals that could be turned to their cause.

She closed her eyes, concentrating and the small gem glowed fitfully before burning into life, a bright hard yellow light shining through her fingers. A second later, a single massive bolt of lightning came out of the sky directly above the war galley, smashing into the ships main mast, setting it and the sails alight along with the deck directly beneath. Eve in pouring rain, a ship simply had too much tar, rope and canvas, even wet could be set alight by lightning such as Asha's attack. Fire bloomed everywhere and screams abounded, though from this far away Asha couldn't hear them.

Smiling grimly as the crew of the war galley got to work trying to save the ship Asha nearly collapsed as she tried to move back towards the stairwell leading down. Rodrick however was there, catching her arm under his own. "A most impressive performance, I think they'll try twice or perhaps even four or five times before taking us on here."

In fact, the Lannisters didn't even try to attack Harlaw after that. Instead, they waited, waited until the Wyks islands had both fallen to them along with Pyke and Saltcliffe. Then they did the one thing Rodrick would never have guessed they would do: they offered a truce.

OOOOOOO

Despite his concern about running into White Walkers or their undead soldiers Ranma reached Castle Cerwyn without incident. He was greeted in the castle's gatehouse by Lord Medger Cerwyn, who clapped him hard on the shoulder. "When word reached our ears here of a rumor saying that you were literally running up from the Riverlands Ranma I didn't believe them! Yet here you are."

He went on more seriously frowning slightly. "But you're alone. That same rumor said you would be, and that the war in the south was done with, but when can we expect the rest of the army back?"

"The Cerwyn Pike regiment and a few thousand Northern cavalry should be passing through the Neck at this point. The rest of the Army will've taken to sea at Maidenpool, and be making for White Harbor. That was about a week and a half ago, but we were told that the voyage to White Harbor would probably take a month at best. Have you ever had any trouble here?" Ranma asked.

"Not much just yet. A few sightings of wights, but everyone among my smallfolk and lords know that the wights can be seen off by fire. I've gathered as much of them that as would come, and we have enough supplies for now. But we've been hearing word of an undead horde marching toward Winterfell, and the past two days we've seen sightings of more wights in the Wolfswood than I care for."

Medger barked a laugh, but there was no humor in it. "It was those sightings that finally forced a few of my more rock-hard minor lords to pull up stake and join me here,. I have to say it's been… interesting… living in such close quarters with them. Thank god for my daughter and son-in-law's diplomacy, that's all I'll say."

Ranma frowned. I'd hoped to rest here for a day before heading on to Winterfell, but if they're that close, should I push on now?

His thoughts juddered to a halt as the interior door to the gatehouse slammed open. Jonelle stood there, her smile warm and inviting, but there was something in the depths of her eyes which made Ranma want to run away, or perhaps just roll on the floor and present his belly like a wolf would in submission. "Why hello there Ranma, the guards said you'd arrived. And where's my little boy? Is he a few days behind you?"

"I, um, no my lady, Cley remains with the main army." Ranma said cautiously, bowing to her slightly while her father quickly exited the gatehouse, causing Ranma to growl slightly. Traitor.

"I see, and the reason he isn't with you is… what? After all, you did promise to keep him safe didn't you, and it would be very hard to do that if he's not actually with you!" Jonelle said, the final words a snap.

But Ranma didn't take offense to them. He was in no hurry to tell the woman of the fights Cley had participated in, but he knew she was just acting like a concerned mother. And frankly, Ranma could remember all too easily looking up to her as young aunt figure, and had no wish for her or anyone else to start treating him differently.

He answered honestly, holding up his hands placatingly. "That would only be true if I wasn't anticipating running into trouble my lady, and I do, that is, I anticipate trouble soon. Cley's far safer at sea with my wife and the rest of the Wolfsworn not to mention the entire army to look after him."

"I suppose," Jonelle replied, growling slightly under her breath. She really did want to blame Ranma for not having her son with him. She wanted so desperately to see Cley again to make sure he was all right, after all, it had been nearly a year since Ranma had taken him away to war. But she couldn't argue the facts. "And how goes his training?"

"We both sort of decided that he really doesn't have the right aptitude for warrior my lady," Ranma said. "Instead he's been serving as the royal page for some months now."

Jonelle's eyes widened. "My baby boy, a page to the new Royal family? That sounds wonderful, and I think he'll be a much better fit for that role, possibly as advisor later on than he would ever have been asa warrior, no matter how skilled he could have become under your tutelage." She then smiled, reaching out to hug Ranma, who returned the gesture. "You are welcome back to the North Your Majesty, now come inside, break bread with us in our hall! Even in these dark times, we still have food and warmth aplenty for guests, especially important ones."

Ranma sighed in relief, and nodded allowing Jonelle to pull him forward, smiling happily at the welcome. Later that night, he took dinner with Lord Cerwyn and his minor lords, filling them in on the details of the war in the south, and getting some more information about what happened here in the North.

Leaning back and patting the first full stomach he'd had since Harrenhal, Ranma smiled, but his tone was all business when he spoke. "I'm glad to hear that the dragonglass already arrived and even more glad that Lord Manderly was able to get it up to Winterfell and to here. Though I'm afraid I'll be taking as much of that Dragonglass off you when Lord Reed and the expeditionary force arrives."

"Do you mean to take the White Walkers on in the field your Majesty?" said one of Lord Cerwyn's minor lords. Ranma had never met the man, who looked like a woodsman by his build, but the question was a good one.

"I intend to force them to concentrate on me, pulling some of the pressure off castles like Cerwyn and elsewhere. If I have to do that in the open field, or daring them to come at me in Winterfell, that's up to them. But I mean my army to be supplied with dragonglass weapons en masse regardless. I've already got some ideas of how to modify the pike tactics to deal with the wights, and the White Walkers themselves too."

They tried to ambush me once and I think they are serious about eliminating me. They have to know have realized why the old gods brought me here, which makes me a target. And I bet that Winterfell already has a target painted on it. "Any other news?"

Medger sighed. "Judging by the amount of time it took the dragonglass to reach Winterfell, we doubt it will have reached Karhold with enough time to help them. Nor was the Last Hearth, Deepwood, or Bear Island sent any. Both Karhold and Last Hearth might've been lost by this point, we just don't know. Other than that, no news has reached us here. Your father might know more of course."

'Have you lost any men yourselves?"

"About 20 all told in the past 2 and 1/2 weeks. The White Walkers themselves might still be a few days away from us here at Cerwyn, but they are within striking distance of Winterfell, and their power has gone before them. Several dozen graves have been disturbed, and I've lost men burning them out. I don't know how far their power of that sort spreads just yet south of us though, did you see any evidence of it?"

"One or two undead walking around last night but nothing major. Which should be a good sign, considering the Barrows were ancient burial sites," Ranma replied dryly.

"Ancient yes, I would bet that most of those Barrows have something within them that will stop the White Walkers from controlling their inhabitants. Much like the weirwood trees."

Ranma cocked his head and Medger smiled grimly. "Our own mausoleum here in the Castle hasn't been disturbed, and certainly Winterfell's hasn't either. That tells me that any graveyard built near weirwood trees is probably safe. For now at least. If the North falls entirely, I doubt that the old gods will have enough strength to keep it so."

Scowling at the idea Ranma nodded, and the conversation turned once again to events in the south, specifically what action Cley had seen, and other more personal matters. Neither Lord Cerwyn nor Jonelle were happy to hear that Cley might've taken up with a young lady whose House had been struck from the rules of nobility and wiped out for its treachery, but thankfully Ranma said it didn't look to be anything serious, simply puppy love. The fact the young woman in question had been sent to Riverrun after Darry's betrayal was also a factor.

Later that night before going to sleep Ranma met Katarina Cerwyn for the first time. The toddler was asleep of course, rocking slightly in her cradle thanks to a maid who sat next to the toddler in a rocking chair of her own working on some needlework.

"There she is, my little bundle of energy. I'd forgotten how inquisitive babies can be at this age," said Jonelle, smirking slightly as she reached into the crib to touch the baby's cheek gently. The baby mumbled, turning away from her touch slightly and she smiled wider. "Yet still she is beautiful."

Ranma nodded, his face showing a mixture of emotions, one of which was trepidation. Jonelle caught it, and smiled slightly. "You wonder about when you and your Daenerys will have children?"

"We've talked about it, and I know she was planning to stop taking moontea, though I don't know if she went through with that before I left. My departure was rather abrupt unfortunately."

"Your lady mother will be pleased." Jonelle said with a faint smile. "And seeing to the succession right now is probably an excellent idea. Even with winter now upon us and the troubles raising a baby in winter, it is something that needs to be seen to."

Ranma nodded but the trepidation didn't go away from his expression and her smile widened slightly. "Don't worry Ranma, you'll be an excellent father."

"Was I that transparent?" Ranma asked smiling whimsically back at her.

"To me certainly, I've known you since you were a little boy coming here with your father, who always had to be chased out of the kitchen for stealing sweetmeats. Don't worry as I said you'll be an excellent father, you've already shown that with Cley, Arya, and I have no doubt with other children. You won't ever be as stern as your own father, or as strict but you'll still be a good father nonetheless. Just let your wife handle disciplining your children for anything outside the training area? I really doubt you could be a disciplinarian you if your life depended upon it."

Ranma laughed quietly, enjoying this moment of peace and levity as the world around them continued to turn dark and cold.

OOOOOOO

The next day Ranma raced on, wearing new boots thanks to Lord Cerwyn, since his old ones had been worn practically down to their soles. In only a turn of a candle he was within sight of Winterfell, which already looked to be under sporadic attack. But it was a very odd sort of sporadic attack. The town around Winterfell had been abandoned, and there were a few archers on roofs here and there which had not been torn down, firing up at the walls from where Ranma hid in the brush by the roadside, cloaked in the Umi-Sen-Ken.

But the main attack seemed to be two undead dragons, the sight of which had made Ranma stop and stare in shock before he ducked into cover. They were large, larger by far than either of Daenerys', and he finally realized why Daenerys kept on insisting on calling the dragons 'little ones' even now when they looked anything but little. Damn, I didn't realize how big dragons could grow.

But even from where he hid, Ranma could tell that these were not normal dragons. They had holes in their wings, their scales were splotchy here and there, and most telling their breath attack wasn't fire. From what he could see from this far away it seemed to be some kind of steam. Or maybe it's like that cone of cold spell from that weird game the otaku kids sometimes played at Furinkan? Freezing stuff it touches?

Even so, it didn't seem to be doing much to the defenders. Most of the wall had been abandoned, but fire arrows and what looked like regular arrows but were probably dragonglass tipped arrows were streaking out from every tower murder hole. None of the arrows were in danger of putting the dragons down alone, but the amount coming at them seemed to deter the dragons from coming too close, and with no one on the walls, their breath weapon didn't seem as devastating as a real dragon's would be.

Though Ranma couldn't see it, this was because like the Wall itself, Winterfell had some magical defenses built into its very stone. Small dark crystals scattered here and there along the parapets and towers of Winterfell, unseen for millennia had erupted in yellow energy, protecting the castle from the White Walkers assault. It didn't do anything against the cold, but the White Walkers creations could not touch down on those stones without being destroyed. The fact that the White Walkers were still attacking seemed to indicate they felt they had a chance of bypassing those defenses, but what that could be other than sheer numbers was something Ranma couldn't discern.

Despite the surprise of the undead dragons, Ranma quickly realized that Winterfell wasn't in any real danger just yet. With that in mind, still hidden underneath the Umi-Sen-Ken Ranma moved around the castle, to get an idea of what the attacking forces looked like.

Soon Ranma found that the dragons and the scouts of the army had outdistanced the majority of the White Walkers and their wights by a several leagues. The main horde was just coming within sight of the wall as he approached directly north. And it was a horde, consisting of thousands of wights, their condition ranging from practically new to near skeletal cadavers, all marching forward powered by the will of the White Walkers.

There has to be as many undead in that army as the entire Vale army! They must've scoured every battlefield and cemetery they could to put those numbers together. Or have we lost that many people already?!

But it wasn't only the numbers which were staggering, because mixed in with the horde were beasts, beasts out of legend. Undead unicorns, massive sabretooth tigers, who unlike the unicorns weren't obviously undead, causing Ranma to wonder how the White Walkers controlled them. Huge polar bears, covered with armor on their shoulders and heads. Several dozen undead giants, like the ones Ranma and the Wolfsworn had run into before.

And here and there scattered among the horde were the White Walkers themselves. They looked like elves almost to Ranma's eyes, taller and thinner than man, with sort of foxy faces. Cold eyes blazed blue in those faces but not the blue of ki or sky, this was a dead kind of blue somehow, though Ranma would be hard pressed to say how. They wore heavy plate armor for the most part, marked with cruel spikes and hooks here and there, and looked to wear little else. They wielded blades of what looked like metal or the ice of a glacier, Ranma couldn't honestly tell what the blades were made of from here. More than one of them had metal bows over their shoulders while at their sides short arrows were kept in quivers.

Ranma couldn't at first see any women among them, but when he did he shook his head slightly. They were beautiful, beautiful but fell. They wore armor just like the men but only wielding staffs rather than swords, with wickedly curved blades at the end of both ends. Where the men were bald the women all had long blonde hair falling down their backs, almost as pale as that of Daenerys, though to Ranma's eyes it looked more sickly then vibrant. Even their faces were not nearly as alien looking as the man.

I wonder if these women were chosen or maybe even bred to look appealing to normal men. It'd make sense given their tactics of using seduction with the Night's Watch King, and on Skagos according to what information my father sent us. For just a moment Ranma smirked. I wonder if you thought it was worth it Theon. The first human to ever screw a White Walker and still retain your soul!

Using as much of the forest as he could to cover his movement while still being hidden under the Umi-Sen-Ken of course Ranma counted about 620 actual White Walkers scattered through the horde, only twelve of whom were female. Is that normal? That there are that many males to females, or were just the women that could possibly pass for human sent on this campaign?

Of more interest to Ranma however were the few that didn't look like warriors. Their genders were indeterminate since they wore heavy cloaks. But instead of being cloth like a normal cloak would be, these cloaks looked to be made of steel scales, or possible simply had steel scales sewn everywhere. They seemed to shine like glass or metal anyway and covered their features from head to toe. Here and there on the cloaks were bits and pieces of what looks like ice, glowing with the fell blue power that came from all of the White Walker's eyes.

There are only about five of these, maybe six because they weren't ever in the same place all at once, and they were always surrounded by dozens of the warriors, who in turn were surrounded by dozens of the White Walker warrior types. Are those their wizards, they damn sure look the part. I wonder how many of that type are on this side of the wall, they sure look to be damn rare if this army's makeup is any indication. But if so, why are they here at all? I'd thought they'd keep their wizards well back from any fighting.

After contemplating that moment from where he hid behind a large pile of snow, pressing his body against an oak tree on one side while a mountain of snow hid most of his body from view Ranma frowned. Maybe their power over those animals or the, er, more dead undead has some kind of range limiter? Or maybe the Wall is interfering with their power source so that they have to power their spells from up close? In any case, it's a good sign, a weakness we can make use of.

Ranma continued to watch as the army finished marching on Winterfell, slowly encompassing the castle. Normally he would have already attacked hoping to disrupt their assault, but given the number of arrows coming out of the towers it was obvious Winterfell knew they were coming. So the best way he could help now, was wait for an opportunity to strike at the most viable target. If those wizards are as important as I think they are, taking them out of the game would defang this entire army as a strategic force.

The battle for Winterfell began in front of Ranma, and it went as well as he had thought it would. The dragons, both of whom looked much the worse for wear from the towers defenses, had retreated, allowing the defenders to rush out and man the wall. The defenders were heavily armed with fire arrows and dragonglass tipped arrows, enough so that they were using both equally. Ranma was a little concerned about that, but figured that Winterfell probably already had a supply of dragonglass arrowheads before the pirate prince and his fleet arrived with more.

It didn't seem to startle the White Walkers however, they had obviously planned for this assault for some time. Ranma watched as thousands of wights were pushed forward, all of them armed with bows and arrows, enough to overwhelm the defenders if they had any kind of height equivalent. But they didn't. The defenders had the walls and the towers, and much of the Winter Town had been knocked down, the homes demolished to create a clear zone around the Castle. Only a few of the most distant buildings remained, giving the attackers no place to put their own archers where they could try to overcome the height advantage.

Good job father, Ranma thought, smiling grimly.

Of course the defenders weren't having it all their own way. Some men had already fallen from the parapets, the sheer number of arrows streaking up at them making that a certainty. And the dragons had destroyed two of the catapults stationed on the towers on either side of the northern facing wall before they had been forced to retreat.

The siege seemed ready to slip into a thing of archery duels rather than anything else. The attackers didn't have any siege equipment that Ranma could see, and didn't seem to have any plan other than throwing their wights at the walls at this point. And the animals, for all their strange appearance, seemed less than useless against stone walls like Winterfell's.

Or at least it looked that way if Ranma didn't count the group of magic users. They had finally come together, and were now moving towards one of the few remaining buildings from the Winter Town. It was a farmstead on the edge of the town, one Ranma remembered as having raised sheep at one point. As Ranma watched a group of the warriors quickly went to work dismantling one of its walls, letting in the winter air.

Then Ranma spotted something he hadn't noticed before, a large palanquin carried by several warriors which had been hidden in among the mass of wights. It was covered by another strange metal looking piece of cloth, like the outfits the magic users wore. And whatever was underneath it was something of great importance to the White Walkers, judging by how the White Walkers made certain that no one from the walls of Winterfell could see it.

Inching closer Ranma continued to use both the Umi-Sen-Ken and what cover there was to get as close as possible to watch the proceedings. He watched as the cover was taken off, revealing a giant ice crystal of some kind, which was a mix of dark blue and black, looking almost like a gem but not quite. It was set reverentially on the floor, and Ranma watched as the floor of the House underneath it began to freeze quickly, covered by a thin veneer of frost.

The ones who Ranma took to be the White Walkers wizards anyway congregated around the crystal quickly. Sitting down in a semi-circle they held out their hands towards the crystal. The crystal began to glow with the fell blue light that Ranma was quickly realizing was the symbol of the White Walkers influence. At the same time even from where he was hiding several hundred feet away Ranma felt the temperature begin to drop. Nearby snowdrifts also began to change color almost, the snow somehow turning into ice.

Yeah, I think it's time to interrupt them now. Ranma thought to himself grimly amused. Pulling out Ice he held it in one hand as he raced forward. Leaving behind the last of the cover he continued to use the Umi-Sen-Ken as he closed, feeling that the slight drain on his ki that technique caused was well worth what he was about to attempt.

Unfortunately, while the Umi-Sen-Ken might hide him from most mortal senses, it didn't do anything to cover his tracks. This would've been bad enough but a second after he left the last of the cover behind him, Ranma learned that the Umi-Sen-Ken didn't work at all against the White Walkers.

Shouts of what had to be surprise went out from the group of a hundred or so guards clustered around the farmhouse, and all of them turned, their long bows coming up to face towards him. Arrows flew towards Ranma before he realized that he had been spotted, but his reflexes were such that he was able to use Ice to smack away several of them, before jumping into a roll to one side avoiding several more. Two smashed into his side and shoulder, shattering on his lizard lion armor, which for some reason gave him more protection than plate had proven elsewhere to be against those arrows. Though of course Ranma didn't know that yet, he simply put it down to his armor's durability.

Rolling along the snow laden ground Ranma came up and continued moving forward, throwing Ice into the air for a moment as he concentrated bringing his hands down to his side. "Direwolf's Claws!"With that he brought his hands forward, shooting out his vorpal blade attack. They sliced through several dozen White Walkers, then he grabbed Ice as it fell back out of the sky, leaping over several more arrows and was in among them before any of the White Walkers could get off another shot.

Almost as one of the White Walkers pulled out long thin and very ugly looking daggers, not ugly like they were poorly made, but ugly as in vile-looking. They had little tines sticking out of the blades, their points were curved, overall they looked designed to cause as much pain as possible rather than just kill.

Ice in contrast was simply a greatsword, 7 and 1/2 feet of pure gleaming steel, without anything in the way of fancy fiddly bits, save for the fact it was a Valyrian blade. The family blade of the Starks smashed into the weapons of the White Walkers, powered by all the strength and Ranma's arm, and shattered more than one sword with every blow.

Internally gasping from the effort firing off that the Direwolf's Claw had taken Ranma dueled with a dozen White Walkers, hacking them down, punching, kicking, moving constantly despite being surrounded. He did not take to the air as was his wont, since this would have allowed the White Walkers beyond his immediate vicinity to target him with their bows. He instead stayed ground-bound, cutting them down as he forged his way towards the wizards. "Winter is Coming for you, you soulless bastards!"

In response to that hated warcry the White Walkers all around him shrieked in wordless rage, their voices sounding like glass grating on glass. Whatever they yelled there it wasn't a comprehensible word, but there damn sure was a lot of feeling behind it.

Ice stuck for a second in the rib cage of one White Walker, having punched through the creature's armor as if it wasn't there. The blades of other White Walkers smashed down onto Ranma's back, causing several cuts and slashes but his lizard lion armor held, opening in places but not giving way. One blade cut into his helmet, but that White Walker died from a sideways punch that caught it right in the neck, crushing his jugular and flinging his body back into two more.

By this point the rest of the White Walkers in the attacking army knew there was something going on in the back of the actual battle. As one they had turned away from directing the wights, racing backwards. Those with bows began to fire at Ranma despite their fellows surrounding him. Their arrows didn't seem to bother their fellows, but more than one-hit Ranma despite the crowd around him, and he winced as one in particular smacked into his elbow, catching him through the joint of his armor.

"RARRGHRAA!" rattling sort of roar from above signaled a far greater threat however. Ranma pulled out Ice, swinging it around in a two-handed grip to catch another White Walker, cutting him in twain. He continued hacking and slashing, punching and kicking at the crowd around of White Walkers around him, slaying dozens before suddenly one of the armored polar bears burst through the crowd roaring. At the same time a Sabertooth tiger tried to take him from the other side.

Ranma whirled, kicking off the Sabertooth tiger's head, thrusting Ice forward in a savage lunge which caught the armored polar bear in the head, smashing through its armor and deep into its brain. Then one of the dragons which had retreated from the battle around Winterfell attacked him from above, it's icy breath striking at where Ranma had been a moment before, engulfing the Sabertooth in its breath. The Sabertooth howled in agony for just a second before freezing solid.

Grounding Ice in another White Walker Ranma turned, bringing his hands backwards and shouting "Direwolf's claw!" The vorpal blades of the Yami-sen-ken shot out, slicing the dragon from head to tail into flinders, its bits scattering into the horde of White Walkers around Ranma. This caused them to scatter slightly, allowing Ranma a few seconds her breathing space, which he desperately needed. Using that attack for a second time had really taken a lot out of him. Why the hell is that taking more out of me every time! Or is it because I haven't recovered from my run up here?

Regardless, Ranma now knew he had maybe one more such attack in him. Any more than that and I won't have enough energy to keep fighting. Considering that even the wights in the army were turning toward him now, away from their assault on Winterfell, that would be a death sentence.

As he thought that Ranma ducked under the swipe of a giant, one of the few near enough to have gotten to him thanks to how slow they were from the main wight horde, returning a punch that caved in the things head, at the same time Ice slashed one of its legs clean off at the hip. Another Sabertooth leaped at him its fangs seeking his neck but Ranma grabbed its jaws, and with a roar and wrench of his arms in either direction, ripped it apart. It collapsed to one side, allowing Ranma to quickly run forward, getting closer to the wizards.

The White Walkers of course were able to tell where he was going, and at a sudden shouted command in that tongue that sounded like pieces of uneven glass shrieking against one another some of the wizards shouted commands to the warriors.

Two of them tried to getting Ranma's way again, only to be barreled aside, while others attacked with more fervor. But Ranma was now close enough, and he halted smashing aside several more White Walkers with Ice before another giant was in his way. Dodging it's monstrous blow Ranma buried Ice in the thing's chest before dodging around it, bring his hands back to his sides and forward for one final ki assault, his target the clump of wizards and the crystal they were using as a conduit for their power. "Direwolf's claw!"

But just as he fired that, a punch from the Giant, which had not died, his thrust having missed its heart, slammed into his side. He rolled with it and was relatively uninjured, but the damage was already done. His assault missed the crystal, smashing into and through five of the six wizards instead, missing the last one entirely but shredding three of them into bits of offal, the last two merely being cut into pieces.

As he rolled more White Walkers attacked, but Ranma punched out to every side, dodging another blow, staggering for a moment from the loss of his energy from that salt. Dammit! I can't do another one! I need to retreat for now.

Retreat however did not look to be an option. The horde had pulled back from this section of the assault on Winterfell to completely enclose Ranma, and now anyway he went he'd have to fight his way through a large portion of the horde to get out. Ironically enough, the quickest or at least weakest section was directly in front of Ranma between him and Winterfell because the White Walkers had tried to block him from running away everywhere else with their own people, the giants and the animals, and the wights coming back from attacking the Castle made up the numbers of the people on that side.

All of this action had not gone unnoticed by the defenders of Winterfell. Now they responded to it. Heavy stones, burning barrels full of cooking oil and other things began to smash down among the wights. They would have been husbanded for the first real assault against the outer wall, but now the defenders put forth their effort as a shout of "Winter is coming!" Went up from the wall, so loud it carried over the tumult of battle to Ranma.

Ranma ripped Ice up and out of the giant's chest, finally bisecting the thing's heart putting it down for good. He turned using Ice to catch a scythe swung at him by a wight then ducked under a blow from a mace, wincing as another blow got through his defenses to smash on his vambrace before he could pull Ice back.

Struck by a sudden inspiration and with a grunt of effort Ranma slipped into the Umi-Sen-Ken again, racing forward into the horde of wights, putting them between him and the White Walkers. For a moment this seemed to work. The White Walkers might be able to see him in the Umi-Sen-Kens, but their undead servants, as Ranma had hoped, could not, their senses were still that of humans for the most part. Therefore rather than becoming more enemies he had to deal with, the wights became meat shields against the White Walker arrows.

More of the catapults fiery burdens slammed into the ground in front of him. Ranma dodged several of them, but the fire did its work, scaring the wights away from him enough that he had a somewhat clear run towards the castle.

The White Walkers tried to rally, several of them hissing out commands in that glass on crackling glass language of theirs. More than 100 White Walkers once again targeted Ranma with their bows, and Ranma felt the sting of their arrows slam into it the back of his lizard lion armor.

For the most part it held, the arrows penetrating only rarely at the joints in particular right behind one shoulder, and right where the armor allowed for movement at the side. Ranma nearly stumbled from the pain of that, feeling the cold of whatever spell was on the ice grip him. But he reached down and pulled the arrows out, hobbling on while more arrows shattered all around him. Even so he did bleed, and the blood left a trail on the snow that the wights could see. Despite the little fires all around them, they began to close in once more.

Even though they couldn't see his body the defenders knew where Ranma was thanks to their enemy's fire and shouts of encouragement came from Winterfell. Now Ranma was close enough that the White Walkers and wights trying to follow him came under fire from the arrows of the defenders. Along with several hundred wights the White Walkers lost more than two dozen more warriors, including two of their women surprisingly, none of which had been close engage Ranma before this.

This forced the front-runners who had tried to cut Ranma off from entering Winterfell back in disarray, with many more wights dying there. Ranma concentrated on healing himself for a moment, sending what little remaining ki he had towards the wound in his leg. It closed quickly, and he raced on with renewed purpose, grimacing as he felt another arrow slam right between his shoulder blades. It didn't penetrate, but it did stick there, and he reached back pulling it out before it could start to send whenever cold spell was a part of it into his armor.

A long piece of rope was thrown over the side of the wall, the defenders unwilling to unbar the main gates to let him in that way. It was a good move Ranma thought, as he grabbed the rope and quickly began to haul himself up the wall to hails of "The Wolf King, the Winter King! Ranma, Ranma Stark!"

Pulling himself upwards towards the parapet Ranma felt several hands grabbed him and haul him up the last few feet, where he was met with shouts and cheers, backslaps and roars of greeting from every throat, from men he had known all his life as armsmen here in Winterfell and near strangers from the minor houses nearby alike. Then two of the men were smacked aside, and he was hauled into a bearhug looking up into his father's face. "You did not arrive in the manner I expected my son but you certainly arrived with a certain amount of fanfare!"

"Heh, well you know me father, I always like to make a good impression." Ranma laughed, hugging his father to him hard.

Eddard chuckled, turning with Ranma still in a one armed hug as he marched him along the wall towards the nearest tower, as the cheers of "the winter king! Winter is coming!" abounded all around them. As they were walking however Eddard questioned his son closely. "What did you attack out there, we saw you appear suddenly, and I know you wouldn't have just attacked randomly."

"I tried to kill all of the well, I call them wizards of the White Walkers that seem to be with this army of theirs. I think I only managed to kill five of them, not certain. Worse, I didn't destroy what looked like some kind of, of focus I suppose, would master Luwin know about such things? Anyway, hopefully the loss in numbers will keep them from using their magics against us for a while."

"And is there a reason why you're here alone?" Eddard asked setting that aside for now as Catelyn, who must've heard the commotion, raced out of the keep towards them, her arms flung open as she saw her eldest son. Behind her Bran and Rickon and their direwolves boiled out of the keep was well, clad in their normal indoor clothing, unmindful of the cold for a moment.

"I'll tell you in a moment father." Ranma said grinning happily as his mother came near. "Right now we have something more important to deal with."

His mother reached him, and Ranma put his arms around her waist lifting her into a hug and whirling her around to the cheers and jubilation of the people watchers on the wall, before putting her down and picking up little Rickon, pulling Bran into a hug as he nodded at their direwolves. Shaggydog had taken to his training with Hodor very well, and sat watching happily as the family was reunited with the alpha while Summer set up a happy yipping noise.

Later that night the family dined with their closest advisors at the head table, where Ranma regaled them and all of the others in the dining hall with the tale of the war in the south. The war was already beginning to be called the War of Reformation thanks to the sweeping changes that had already occurred to the power structure of Westeros. The breaking of the Westerlands brought many a smile.

The fate of the Stormlands brought a frown to Eddard's face, though he could not truly argue with the fact it had to be done, disgusted both by the ferocity of the battles between the Stormlands forces and how quickly the losers had turned their coats from one Baratheon to the other. The retelling of the battle between Viserys, Stannis, the new Royal Army, and the Golden Company brought exclamations of shock from the listeners, both from the noble table and those listening from the other tables.

Ranma's last bit of news, the fact that the Vale had already put on army into the field which was marching to the North's aid before word reached them brought shouts of joy and happiness from many a throat. Eddard nodded grimly satisfied at that and nodding approval at the plans Ranma had put in place there. Ranma looked at his mother however, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but everything we've learned about aunt Lysa said she was insane, and going crazier all the time. I, I could not in conscience leave her in charge of the Vale. And given the rumors we heard about her son, even having him in power in the Vale was just not going to happen." Ranma left his speculations about her relationship, whatever it had been, with Petyr to one side, not wanting to cloud the issue.

"I understand." Catelyn said with a sigh. "I sometimes wonder what would've happened if she could have married someone closer to her own age, someone she could have more in common with than merely the marriage oath. But such wanderings are fruitless, and serve no purpose at this point." She smiled slightly at her son, before reaching forward to hug him with one arm. "You did well, as far as I can tell you did well in all of it, not as I would have done, or as your father would've done I don't think." Here Eddard nodded his head, indicating that she was speaking nothing but the truth. "But I think better than either of us could have contrived."

"Breaking the Westerlands and the Stormlands might keep similar wars from occurring later as well." Eddard amused. "Perhaps a stronger Royal House will truly unite Westeros into one nation rather than several disparate countries."

"I hope so, I think that this winter is going to be hard enough without needing to defend our backs from the knives of our own people." Ranma smiled grimly as he paraphrased something he had said once to Daenerys, even as he felt a pang of pain, missing her and Merry terribly. Their absence and Jon's kept this from being a true family reunion in his mind.

He shook off his maudlin mood quickly however. "But as I said, the rest of the army should be here within a month and a half or at least at White Harbor by that point. And the Vale troops should be here in about a month at the most. I think the troops under Lord Reed will take around three weeks to get here to Winterfell. Can you tell me anything more about what's been going on elsewhere in the North?"

"Somewhat." Eddard said with a nod which was rather more grim than Ranma had hoped. "The last raven we had from the Wall said that the Bay of Seals was almost entirely frozen, though not deeply just yet, though it was certainly enough to stop ships from getting to Eastwatch-By-the-Sea. We have had no word from Karhold since that first message from them about Theon's misadventure, and I fear the worst."

Ranma grimaced, his teeth clenched angrily at the thought of losing a friend to the White Walkers. "Theon's a tough son of a bitch, until I hear point blank that he's dead I'll hold out hope that he still alive somewhere. Elsewhere?"

"Bear Island has come under attack, and has for the most part fallen. Maege is holding her longhouse however, and says she can hold out for a long time so long as they don't bring any more of a force against her, but she lacks the dragonglass to fight the White Walkers directly. Her losses were heavy when she met them on the beach apparently, but they haven't tried to go around their island to the rest of the western shores. At least not so far as we have heard. Of course our communications with the mountain clans isn't the best, but most of them pulled their people back here, only the Norrey stayed put, and even then most of them I think moved up to join the Wall's defenders. At least I hope so."

Eddard sighed again, showing a weariness that frankly alarmed Ranma a little, and he reached over to grab his father's shoulder and a hard grip. Eddard smiled, patting his son's hand for a moment. But then he went on. "We've had word from Hornwood and Ramsgate that they've come under assault, as well as Widows Watch, though the assault there is small and more in the way of keeping the defenders from sortieing out than anything else. The Last Hearth is under siege as we are here yet it had a number of dragonglass arrowheads and knives so it can hold out. White Harbor has not been attacked yet, nor has Oldcastle or any place south of Winterfell."

"I stopped in at Castle Cerwyn." Ranma said with a nod. "They're as prepared as they can be, but I don't think they'll be under attack until Winterfell falls. Hopefully they'll concentrate here."

"Hopefully?" Catelyn asked, though something in Eddard's face showed that he understood what his son was hinting at.

"Hopefully," Ranma replied with a nod. "Let them sit out there, hell, let them bring as much of their army against us here as they can, add to the forces already out there. If they concentrate that much it'll just make it easier to smash their forward force. What I would hate to do is to face skirmishes and small assaults spread out across the entirety of the North. That'd bleed us dry far faster than larger set battles. But until the Army arrives, we will have to sit on the defensive."

"Now," Ranma said turning to his brother and ruffling his hair affectionately. "Tell me more about your inventions Bran, and is it true that you actually trained up some reindeer to pull carts? I understand that you also figured out a system to change barges for the White Harbor over to sleds?"

OOOOOOO

Jon and his army had caught one of the two Ironborn crews still hunting along the Mander in the open. They had caught and tortured several families who had not run away quickly enough several leagues distance from the Mander itself, and were on their way back from that plunder to their temporary base when Jon and his army fell upon them. No quarter was asked and none given, and not a single Ironborn had survived for more than a turn of the candle after the battle began.

The other group of Ironborn however, must have somehow heard that they were coming, because they stopped their depredations and pulled back to House Westbrook's keep. There they had gathered several hundred women, their so-called salt wives, and when the army came within sight threaten them all with death if they were attacked. It was a tactic Jon hadn't seen before, but not one that he was going to let dissuade him.

"Those women have been through hell already, and no doubt that at least some of them are already dead up here," said Jon said tapping his head, his eyes like steel. "No, I'm not going to let be Ironborn remain in charge of even a single keep."

Margaery who had actually been working with the people she brought along to look over the lands that the Ironborn had despoiled shook her head sadly. "True, but how are you going to go about getting them out of their then?"

"Milady, I am a Wolfsworn, and trust me, my brother and the rest of us have come up with numerous ways of taking castles and keeps beyond a full frontal assault. Let me survey that place, and I'll find a way in." Jon smiled, though inwardly he shuddered, knowing he'd probably have to do some climbing at some point.

The keep was a small one, but moderately well-built a four-story tall edifice of stone shaped like a circle, with only a single entranceway, which had several portcullises barring the way inside, and no doubt a sufficient number of murder holes and other nasty surprises in the gate tunnel.

But that didn't matter to Jon, he wasn't going to go through the main doorway anyway. That night Jon made his way forwards, as silent as a shadow with Ghost beside him. He might not have his brother's Umi-Sen-Ken, but Jon could move almost as quietly as Ghost over any kind of terrain, and was quickly at the side of the wall, moving around it cautiously staring up and looking for a ready murder hole, while his hand gently ran over the stone, looking for handholds.

He found enough, and began to climb, while all the time saying a mantra in his head, I don't like this, I don't like this, I don't like this! But Jon wasn't about to let his fear of falling, he was not afraid of heights, it was falling that bothered him he was quick to point out, stop him tonight. Quickly ascending the wall Jon was right below one of the murder holes mere moments later.

Pulling himself up to look inside he saw four Ironborn, three of whom were busy rutting away with a woman who simply laid there, her head lolling back and her eyes, from what Jon could see in the light of the room's one torch, dead. What horrors that woman had seen over the past few months Jon didn't know, but it made his blood boil to think about it. The fourth Ironborn was asleep on another bad, snoring loud enough to wake the dead.

If he had been any less filled with rage Jon would have shaking his head at this. The Ironborn were so arrogant, so undisciplined! Even knowing that there was an enemy army surrounding them they couldn't pull themselves away from their fun to even set a watch. Oh, there were no doubt a few Ironborn up on the roof of the keep. But there at least half the crew should have been awake at all times, given how badly outnumbered they were.

Stop looking a gift horse in the mouth Jon, and get on with it, Jon thought angrily, pulling himself over the murder hole's sill as quietly as possible. The first the four Ironborn knew of his presence was when his dagger took one of them in the kidney from behind.

The man groaned aloud, causing the other two men, who were busy fondling and forcing the comatose woman to move as they thrust into her from above and below looked up. Before either could speak Jon's swords were out, cutting forward economically. Each blade took one of them along the throat and both of them fell to one side, gasping as their life's blood trickled out. The fourth never even had a chance to wake up, Jon's blade took him through the eye and into the brain.

With that done Jon moved over to the woman, staring down at her while feeling for a pulse staring into her eyes. There was nothing there, no mind left, the horrors she had endured had broken her. Kneeling next to her body uncaring of the blood from one of his victims still dripping onto the floor from underneath the woman he murmured a prayer to the Old Gods for her soul, then gave what mercy he could before standing up, his face a stony mask of fury.

From there Jon made his way out into the corridor, all of his senses stretched to the max as he searched for any up hint that the Ironborn realized they had been invaded. There was none, and Jon made his way towards one end of the corridor, luckily finding the staircase down on the first try.

He ran into several Ironborn on the way, killing them quickly, efficiently and above all silently. More than once upon seeing the Ironborn at their fun he couldn't stop himself from entering a room and dealing with the Ironborn within, before doing what he could for the women, which alas was not much. He was a wraith in the night, a thing of vengeance and silent justice come upon them. Then he was in the gatehouse, finding within it five more Ironborn, only two of whom were awake.

Those two were near the doorway. One shouted "'Ere who are", before Jon ran forward, thrusting out his blades to both sides. One blade struck true, punching through a Ironborn's chain mail straight into his chest, but the other only skittered across one of the second Ironborn's chain mail, and Jon cursed before kicking out hard catching that man in the chest and throwing him backwards.

The remaining three Ironborn came awake at the man's cursing, but Jon was on them in a second, his short swords slashing out killing two of them before they could shout. But the other two did get shouts off before they joined their fellows, falling to the floor of the gatehouse. Shouts began to abound all through the keep, but Jon quickly dropped his twin swords and began to operate the controls on the trio of portcullises that defended the keep, opening the keep to his army.

Locking them in place he ran back to the doorway, as his army, warned by the howl of Ghost charged forward. In the lead was Ser Thomas Graceford and the men of his house, all of whom had agreed to join him becoming the heart of the new order. While they had yet to come up with their own battle-cry, their family's old one still worked just as well. "Work Her Will! Slay every last godless bastard!"

After the battle Margaery found Jon still in the gatehouse, cleaning his weapons and staring off out of one of the murder holes out into the dark. "Jon, are you all right?" she asked softly.

"I am unhurt." he said, but his voice was a faraway one.

"You don't sound all right," Margaery said, coming over and placing a hand on his shoulder. It moved to his chin and she gently turned his face to look at her. "Are you well?" she asked again.

"I've killed before this, this is not my first battle, or even my tenth. And the death of the Ironborn mattered not at all to me. I would've felt more compassion for butchering so many animals. That was what they were, animals." Staring up at her he described the scene he had come upon first entering into the keep, and the fact he had given what mercy could to that woman and several others as he made his way through the keep.

Margaery listened without reproach, simply gently running her fingers through his hair soothingly before saying, "Many of the women here are comatose like that, and I'm afraid that they are beyond our power to heal. Giving mercy as you did is possibly the kindest thing you could've done. Jon, you did what you had to, what you had to. Let the Ironborn who used my people so harshly answer to the Stranger or their foul Drowned creature for their actions, don't carry it with you."

Jon looked at her, then slowly nodded, his shoulders straightening slightly as he did so. Then he smirked suddenly. "You're quite wiser than your years should allow for my lady, how did that come about?"

"Allow me to keep some secrets my lord Hand." Margaery laughed, taking his hand and gently leading them away. By the time dawn broke, the keep was fully cleansed of the Ironborn, and the women those that responded to their change in circumstances, were on their way towards Highgarden under heavy escort led by Ser Graceford. The army however did not camp there, the stench of the place and the horrors that had been committed upon the women and the other folk in that keep was too pervasive. No, they marched through the night and well into the other day, heading down towards Oldtown, where they would meet up with Willas and the others.

A week later they did so on the Rose Road to learn that Willas and Bryce had much easier time of it. "Lord Florent was rattling his saber, but when confronted with a larger army lost heart." Willas reported, his lips twitching as he tried to suppress a smirk. "The same went for Titus Peake. With the other marcher Houses moving up behind it and our own army in front of it they capitulated quickly, merely saying they had been moving to link up with Lord Florent and battle Oberyn themselves."

He pulled his house around, moving in step with Jon, showing no discomfort to address Jon where he was marching along on foot. "We still have no idea what they planned, and since they didn't actually fight us or ravage the lands we don't have any reason to remove them from power. But I remain very leery of them and Florent. I've already sent a message back to Highgarden asking my grandmother to suborn more of their households to pass on information just in case."

Jon nodded, grimly satisfied and after relaying what he and his army had accomplished asked, "I don't see Lord Dondarrion Edric or Arya with you though. Where are they?"

"They continued down to the Dornish Passes, I think they intend to head to Starfall."

Jon winced. "There's no way they'll get there and back in time to join me to head north is there?"

"Possibly, remember my men and Bryce's can't move as fast as yours. It will take us at least another three weeks to get to Oldtown, whereas they are traveling light and with several horses each." Willas smirked. "They're very good horses, I should know. I'd estimate they could meet us in Oldtown if we waited a few days. Which we might have to, considering how we'll need to replenish the supplies for the fleet, make certain the fleet has enough ships and supplies for you along with Garlan's forces, then decide which way you're going to go from Oldtown.

Willas had to stay behind of course to rule the Reach, and to become one of the Royal House's voice here in the south as they dealt with the White Walkers. But he came along to organize the logistics for the fleet, as well as to introduced Jon to Garlan, so that between the three of them they could hammer out the command structure for the fleet as it went north.

And while Arya and possibly Edric might meet up with them in Oldtown, Lord Dondarrion would not. He would instead be taking formal command of his lands and the Lands of House Dayne, combining them into the new Duchy of the Passes. That would probably not be a simple task, depending on if the Dornish wanted to try and fight the annexation of the Prince's Pass and the Boneway, but regardless it would happen, especially with House Dayne enthusiastically on Lord Dondarrion's side. Dorne could no longer remain aloof and apart from the rest of Westeros.

Jon nodded. "I've been wondering about that, at first I thought we should head around the Summer Sea and up the Narrow Sea to White Harbor. That way we could stop at Planky Town, intimidate Prince Doran some more, and then stop at Dragonstone to load up on dragonglass on our own. But how long would that take us out of our way?"

"I think we'll have to go that route with at least of small portion of our forces, to meet with the Prince anyway." Willas said shrugging philosophically. "However, I can handle that, and it would indeed add at least two months, maybe more to the journey north if we went to the east rather than west. On the other hand, the Iron Islands are embroiled in a war, and I doubt Lannisport would be happy about being forced to resupply the fleet. It depends, I think on where you think you're needed most."

Jon nodded once more, though inside he knew he should go west. The vision of Bear Island, the only clear vision he had seen, pointed to that. But if we go that way, I won't be able to arm my troops with dragonglass. Against wights numbers and discipline can tell, but against White Walkers? Is holding Bear Island worth the loss of life we'll face without being properly armed?

The two men fell silent, simply riding or marching on as they thought of the problem. Neither noticed Margaery, riding alongside her brother, staring at the two men thoughtfully as she made her own plans.

OOOOOOO

After sending off his prisoners to Crannogtown under guard to be placed on a ship for White Harbor, Timot Hammerhand pressed his men hard. After only four days they passed through the Neck to Moat Cailin, where Timot happily handed over control of his force to Lord Reed then set about organizing the army's supply train with his normal brisk efficiency with Lord Reed's men while his army rested for several days. The horses and carts sent from Barrowton sped their army up enormously. They had been sent without a whimper from Lady Dustin, who despite her hatred of Eddard knew her duty and had no wish to see the White Walkers on her doorstep. Even so, Timot had pushed his army hard, so now their pace was slowed slightly.

Two weeks marching passed quickly in this manner. They were deep into the Barrowlands when a shout went up from the scouts guarding the back trail. "Wolf approaching down the road!

A moment later a cry of "The Wolf" went up from more than one man, and Timot looked to the side to see a giant direwolf loping along the ground racing north. "Is that…?"

Lord Reed nodded, smiling faintly. "Yes, I was wondering where he was anyway."

Moments later another shout went up, "Horsemen, running up behind hell for leather!"

Lord Reed and Timot turned their horses, racing towards the back of the column. There they found Edd leading several horses, all of whom looked to be on their last legs, while he stood on his own, glassy eyed, his hair matted to his head and his legs wobbling, heat rising from his body to create steam in the cold air around him. "L-lord Reed?"

"Edd Karstark!" Lord Reed said reaching down to grab the younger yet far taller man by the shoulders steadying him as he let go of the reins. The horses looked as if they wanted to bolt, but were simply too tired. Instead they just moved away from the crazy human that had run them all into the ground one after another then himself covering in 3 1/2 weeks the distance between Riverrun and the army's current position. It was a feat that many would have thought impossible. They didn't know about horses that Edd had left behind at Fairmarket, or the other four he left behind at Crannogtown. All of whom he had ridden to death or near it. Or the sours, the blisters that had opened and been ignored on his ass, or the fact his feet's sole's had opened and bled so badly his boots had to be cut off him. .

"Did you try to keep up with Fenris?" Lord Reed asked incredulously.

"Not at first." Edd gasped shaking his head. "Met up with him near the Twins. Stayed with him since, though he could have left me in the dust. Damn direwolf!" He grinned suddenly, wobbly legs and all. "But my duty is in the North with my king, and by the Old Gods my witness I will be there!"

"Aye, but if you don't get any rest you won't of any use." Lord Reed said, gesturing two of his men over who helped Eddie away, moving him towards an empty cart. "Get some rest lad, will be at Cerwyn within another week, and after that, I have no doubt you'll find battle worth your mettle."

OOOOOOO

Leaving the army of humans and the pack friend behind Fenris ran on, stopping only occasionally to hunt. A single bear fed him enough for the run through the Neck, and a moose made for good eating two days after he had left the Army behind him, but he began to see undead about then. They were strange, the stench of death yet the site of them moving spooked Fenris, making his hackles rise at the unnaturalness of it all. Every time he saw these undead creatures his instincts forced Fenris to stop long enough to rip them apart, slowing him somewhat.

And he did have to rip them apart. The magic that made the wights move could not be undone by his ki attacks for some reason unless he got their heads or hearts. He learned this the hard way, when a wight whose stomach he'd had torn apart rose behind him and bit his tail!

Fighting wights was altogether a disgusting experience. They smelled disgusting, they tasted disgusting, worse than anything he'd ever tried to actually eat, let alone simply fought. Worse, parts of your meal should not be trying to attack you after you rip out its throat!

Despite these frequent stops, Fenris quickly came on Cerwyn, passing it at midday to the shouts and cheers of the defenders. He paused, circling back and sitting on his haunches for a moment, answered this cheer with a howl of his own. That howl reverberated for leagues around, answered by the howls of wolves in the Wolf's Wood. It was a howl that echoed and reechoed again and again deep into the mountains, a trumpet of war. The howl went on and on for several moments, as the cheers of the defenders of House Cerwyn rebounded, shouts of the "Winter King, the wolf, the wolf for the king!" Making themselves heard before he turned again, racing on.

That howl had also been heard by the defenders of Winterfell, and by the time Fenris was within sight, Ranma had organized them to be ready.

The White Walkers were also ready for Fenris, and sent many of their magically domesticated beasts against him. Two polar bears and four sabretooth tigers along with a single giant waited on the road itself for Fenris, and howled as they caught sight of the massive direwolf, while the White Walkers took aim at him with their bows. They kept the wights back for now, surrounding Winterfell to keep the defenders from sortieing in support.

"AROOOOOOOOO!" With another blood-chilling howl Fenris met them, his fangs and claws glowing blue with ki light. A single swipe put down a sabretooth tiger, but Fenris was smashed backwards by an overhand blow from a polar bear. He rolled with it however, coming up and lunging forward to bury his fangs deep into the polar bears stomach as it had reared for another blow.

Bearing that polar bear to the Earth Fenris lunged to one side, dodging several arrows from nearby White Walkers, using another polar bear as inadvertent armor against them. Smashing his head to flinders almost absentmindedly, he dodged under a powerful punch form a giant, taking the thing in the throat with his fangs and ripping off his head. The giant kept moving, and its next blow took Fenris in the side, but the direwolf shrugged it off.

He felt a bite on his side, and turned snarling, rolling around in the snow with another sabretooth pitting claw against claw. He won quickly, Fenris' ki armor seeing him through without much injury, but now the nearby wights were all around him. Not a single White Walker closed with him however, Ranma's assault on them had slaughtered more than half their starting number, and they had not been reinforced unlike the wights. They couldn't afford to lose more, which was a bad thing.

Suddenly the gates of Winterfell opened, and 400 men charged out armed with long spears tipped with Dragonglass spearheads, while above them the catapults and defenders went to work. The rest of the defense was left with only token watchers, as every man and archer they could fit lined this portion of the battlements and manned the towers facing the battle around Fenris.

The first rank of attackers held tower shields which covered them from head to toe and spread to either side of their bodies almost interlinking with their fellows on either side of them. They allowed just enough room for the second rank's long spears, almost as long as the Golden Company's, to thrust between them.

These men were not as well trained as the pikemen however, and as they rushed forward into the ranks of the wights trying to surround Fenris, they lost some of their careful spacing. They slammed into the wights, but got bogged down quickly, several of the shields being smashed aside by the wights and the formation collapsing backwards, the spear proving unwieldy at close range. However the third rank was armed with dragonglass daggers, and when they went for a kill shot on the wights they put them down, thankfully.

Ranma was with them too, bounding over the shield wall and into the wights, hacking and slashing out to either side as Fenris forged his own way through the portion of the wights between them. Moments later the two stood together, the beleaguered square of pike behind them.

"Welcome home Fenris!" Ranma shouted aloud laughing as he hacked White Walkers apart, putting them down permanently before falling back. "Back! Back to the castle!"

Above them the archers fired as many fire arrows and dragonglass arrows as they could, unfortunately depleting their stores somewhat more than Ranma could've hoped. Yet this did the job, both clearing their route and covering their retreat, more thanks to the fact the wights could not overcome their fear of fire than anything else. But moments later they were back inside the gate's tunnel, the portcullis slamming down behind them than the gate behind that.

Then Ranma was laughing as he hugged Fenris to him while his siblings and their bonded crowded around him as well. Fenris was home, and he was but the first ally to arrive.

OOOOOOO

After leaving the Bay of Crabs behind, the Royal fleet made good time traveling north, skirting around the Fingers as much as they could, the wind usually behind them. They had to stop twice for food, taking on as much provisions as they could for the sailors and the army. The also met Salladhor Saan's fleet going the other way, both fleets doing what they could to stay within sight of land given the horrendous storms that came out of nowhere at times in the Narrow Sea in Autumn.

The pirate prince was of course brought aboard, and met Daenerys and her advisers. He came away somewhat impressed by the young queen, and more than a little frightened of her dragons. They were so much more real in real life than they were in pictures, paintings or old tales.

Daenerys in turn was quick to affirm the crowns backing of the deal Salladhor had struck with Lord Manderly then took it a step forward. "If you can keep up the supply of dragonglass, I will pay you your weight in gold Salladhor Saan. And if feet you or any of your man can figure out a way to speed the process up somehow, be it the trip up from Dragonstone, getting the dragonglass out of the ground, carving it up appropriately, I don't care, if you or they have any idea that works to speed it up, we will award you a noble title, and the island of Driftmark."

"With such an incentive my lady, I will of course place all of my considerable acumen against the task."

Daenerys nodded, then looked down at the map trying to figure out where they were. But she didn't have as good a grasp of distances when at sea as she did on land. She asked Sahn and Davos for their take on where they were, and how long it would take them to get to White Harbor from there.

"We've made better time than I expected my lady, far better if I'm honest. Not all of that can be explained away by my resupply idea, we've simply had favorable winds the entire way." He caught septon Ehric's smiling expression for a moment and rolled his eyes. "I know that some of my men think it is a Seven sent miracle father, but I'm not one of them. I've been at sea for too long to have any remaining misconceptions about it, the sea is a cold stone bitch which will kill if given half the chance. It's just that it's playing nice right now, lulling us into a false sense of security."

Davos was as God-fearing as the next man, and firmly believed in the Seven, it wasn't only his code of honor which made him hate Melisandre. But he also believed that the Seven helped those that helped themselves, miracles were all too often simply charlatans' tricks, or the workings of madmen or mad women like Melisandre.

"That isn't what I asked Ser Seaworth. How long will it take to get to White Harbor?" Daenerys asked implacably, ignoring the small bit of byplay.

"Another week and a half or so to get to the entrance to the Bite, then another 2 and 1/2 weeks at best." Davos said promptly. "It depends on if the Bite has begun to freeze. It may well have by this point."

He looked over at Salladhor who nodded. "There were indeed several icebergs visible to my ships along our route both to and from White Harbor, though I didn't notice any significant difference from one leg of the trip to the other." He stroked the large and very warm fur coat that had been part of the deal between himself and Lord Manderly for clothing his sailors against the cold for a moment before going on. "I do know however, that I would not wish to travel further north than the northernmost edge of the Bite. The seas in the Bite are relatively calm, but the entrance to it, in particular near its northernmost edge, was extremely rough.

"The best idea when dealing with such cold conditions my lady is to have several of the ships out in front of the rest of the fleet. We then force the fleet to travel as closely fit together as possible, with the ships in front going extra slowly to do soundings. Ice can often hide underneath the waves, and an iceberg can rip the keel out of a ship just as easily as rock or reef." Davos said.

"Which will slow us down even more." Rickard growled. He and Greatjon exchanged glances, knowing their Family's seats would be primary targets for the White Walkers if they had indeed gotten around the Wall. While he had continued to profess his trust in his son's judgment, and the defenses of Karhold, that was a vastly different thing from being happy with the situation.

Daenerys scowled, then noticing a small mark on the map near one of the Fingers her scowl dissipated into a thoughtful stare. Tapping it she asked, "Tell me, does anyone know how close Baelish Keep is to the ocean? I didn't realize it was on one of the Fingers until just now, but if it's close enough it might behoove us to swing by and see what we can find..."

That one some particularly piratical grins from her listeners, and Davos responded for them all. "Actually, Baelish Keep is right on the water your Majesty. And it's not much of a keep either, being more of a simple enlarged holdfast with an outer wall along the approaches from further inland. At least that was the way was the last time I sailed these waters. It could've changed I suppose."

"Probably not." Merry said shaking her head. "Petyr never relied on an overt show of force, he always liked to hide as much as he could get away with. The exterior at least won't have changed much I don't think."

"In that case, I think we should take six or seven ships and head in that direction when we're close enough Ser Seaworth. My dragons could use a bit more exercise than they have been getting simply fishing anyway." Daenerys smiled thinly.

About a four days after that they came within sight of the Finger where Baelish Keep was placed, and the flagship along with six other Royal war galleys peeled off from the rest of the fleet, moving towards the Finger. They didn't bother hiding their coming, simply sailing on certain in their power. And the dragons flew before them.

The sight of Rhaegon and Sunfyre won them the keep without a fight. Not, Daenerys reflected as she allowed Smalljon to aid her up onto the tiny wharf that served the keep that they could've put up much of a fight in the first place. There'd only been 50 armsmen within the keep, a decent amount for a keep of the size, but not enough to defend it against six war galleys worth of Royal troops. Let alone the dragons.

She took a moment to look over to where Rhaegon and Sunfyre were cavorting in the ocean right by the keep. It turned out that this place was a home for crabs much like Harroway, and the two of them were guzzling the delicacy eagerly. They're going to spoil their dinner, she thought to himself herself, chuckling before following the Wolfsworn into the keep.

The Wolfsworn moved around her like the old Kingsguard, and Smalljon in particular growled at any of the prisoners looked at her way, keeping her far away from them. It only been a few weeks since Merry had confirmed that Daenerys was pregnant, though thankfully she hadn't begun to have morning sickness, nor had it begun to affect her figure much. Still, the news had been received jubilantly from the entire army, with the Lords in particular breathing sighs of relief at the sign that the succession would soon be made clear.

"Will you look at that your Majesty?" said Davos, staring up into the ceiling of the keep's main Hall.

Daenerys followed his gaze, and saw what looked like some pieces of a ship taken apart and hanging there in the dark. "What is it?"

"Pieces of a cutter. I wonder…" Davos frowned, and waved his hand and moved off intent on searching the property.

Daenerys let him go because Lord Blackwood came trooping in then, smirking widely. "Your Majesty, we found something you might want to see."

What the men of House Blackwood had found were several dozen large chests of gold. All told Daenerys would later find that it amounted to practically a million gold dragons. Not even half the amount that Petyr had diverted from the crown coffers to his own needs, but more than enough to be a kind of emergency nest egg for him.

Once he learned of that Davos simply nodded. "That makes sense when added to the boat we found hidden here my lady. It would take a skilled crew of workmen only a few days to put it together, all the pieces are here and in excellent condition. I would say that Petyr was a rat with a ship ready to leave a sinking situation."

The Wolfsworn all rolled their eyes, with Meera going so far as to shout 'Booooo' at the horrible turn of phrase, while Daenerys merely shook her head sadly at the man. " Pray do leave the quips to other men Ser Seaworth you are an excellent ship captain and admiral, you have no need to be a master jongleur."

Then she smiled, patting him on the shoulder. "Load it up. Set aside a single casket, share it out between you and the other Lords in the army then set aside two more to split up among the men. After the war they've already fought, they all deserve a bit of a bonus in beyond what they'll be paid when this is all over."

"Any plans for the rest?" Davos asked only semi-whimsically. That was a lot of gold after all.

"No, but gold is as important to kings as victory." Daenerys said with a faint smile. "I'm certain my husband and I will find some use for it soon enough. Though it is not as important as loyalty." She said smiling faintly at the Wolfsworn and Davos, who all straightened their shoulders at her words. "Now, we have a journey to get back to, and a war awaiting us at our destination. Let us be about it."

OOOOOOO

Besides the small skirmishing parties spreading everywhere slowly, the only major White Walker Army on the move at this moment was the one that had taken Karhold. The White Walkers forces were not infinite, nor could even a large percentage of their forces be sent around the Wall on their icebergs. Even worse, reinforcing those sent was a slow laborious process. Whatever their magics, the icebergs moved incredibly slowly after all, the White Walkers had no power over moving water. Even from a distance from the Frozen Shore to Bear Island had taken more than three months.

Ranma had hurt the White Walkers badly when he killed the wizards with the army surrounding Winterfell, but there were still over a dozen wizards on this side of the Wall, their will slowly spreading through the very ground. And more than half of them were with the army that had taken Karhold. It had been the White Walker's greatest victory so far since taking Skagos. They had killed hundreds, taken dozens of small holdfasts, families that had refused to leave, even small keeps here and there. But only Karhold of the Great Houses had fallen to them.

Gathering more and more wights to them as it went, the army marched on its next target, passing the Weeping Water and marching on. Their target, Hornwood.

OOOOOOO

2 and 1/2 weeks after Fenris had passed them the expeditionary force under Lord Reed finally arrived at Castle Cerwyn. They were greeted warmly by the defenders, and to their astonishment Ranma himself. "I would've thought you'd be in Winterfell lad." Lord Reed said looking at the younger man in astonishment.

"I've been able to sneak in and out of Winterfell since the siege began. The wights, whatever they use to replace their senses don't work very well," Ranma said with a shrug, not wanting to explain the cloaking technique that he used, but also unwilling to outright lie. "They don't have enough White Walkers left to ring the entire castle, there's always some way through their cordon."

"I see you've been busy then." Lord Reed said frowning thoughtfully. "What are we actually facing here, and what's already been done?"

Ranma smiled, one arm still around Edd's shoulders. "Yeah, we were kind of busy right as I arrived. Since then it's calmed down, out of a bit of excitement when Fenris arrived. But right now, let's talk tactics."

The siege had fallen into a state of semi-constant small skirmishes. The defenders lacked the numbers to truly battle against the wights, but the animals were useless in the siege. The last remaining dragon had gotten too close at one point, and Ranma had destroyed it with a 'Direwolf Claw'. Without it, and with the defenders protected by their positions, the White Walkers were forced to begin work on siege weapons. But while they could use the giants and wights for simple fetch, hack and carry tasks, the real work on these weapons had to be done by the White Walkers personally, and it was very slow work. But thanks to the ongoing siege, the White Walkers had yet to send any organized attacks beyond Winterfell.

The siege at Winterfell had actually dragged in many of the smaller bands of wights that had been raised by the White Walker's power, and House Cerwyn's land actually hadn't seen any depredations from them for over a week by this point. This convinced Lord Cerwyn to add 700 more men of his own House and a further 420 men from his minor Houses to Ranma's expeditionary force. This impacted his own defenses cutting into the number of trained men, but Medger felt it was worth the risk.

The expeditionary force had also added light Cavalry from House Ryswell long before this, and even a force of 400 pike out from Torrhen's Square. They weren't very well trained in comparison to the Cerwyn Regiment, and most of them were un-blooded, but the inclusion of them gave Ranma around 6,300 men.

"Tell me, did you hear anything from the other side of the Neck about the Vale army arriving at Crannogtown?" Ranma asked looking at Lord Reed. Around them their men slowly progressed through Cerwyn's armory. Dragonglass arrows, spear tips and daggers depending on their place in the battlefield were handed out, along with some directions on their upkeep, since the weapons were so brittle.

"We'd heard sightings of them from my scouts before we were too far from the Neck, but I'm sorry that's about all I can tell you." Lord Reed said shrugging. However most of Lord Reed's attention was on the men around them, more importantly the looks that most of the soldiers wore. There was a lot of fear there, anger yes, and worry, which was normal enough going into battle, but there was far too much fear for his liking. He nodded around at them nudging Ranma sharply in the ribs. "You should give a speech lad."

"What?" Ranma asked looking a little confused. Then he too noticed the men's faces and sighed, nodding. "I understand. This enemy isn't like any other they faced, and they all know it too. We need to put some spine and them. Get them bedded down, we'll spend two nights here and march out before dawn on the third day. I'll give a speech then, but I'll also hold some training seminars on how to fight wights between now and then. That should show them the wights and White Walkers can be beaten, you just have to be careful about it."

"Yes, but tonight Ranma, you and I need to talk. I need to tell you about what nearly happened to Sansa." Edd scowled, his face bitter, more bitter than his run north could explain. "I nearly failed you my friend."

Ranma looked at him, then nodded. "We'll talk in a bit then."

When they did, Edd explained how Petyr had nearly kidnapped Sansa, saved only by Fenris coming on him at the right time. After he finished Ranma leaned back in the bed he had been assigned for the night, staring over at Edd who sat on his own. "I thought Fenris was trying to tell me about Sansa a time or two, but direwolves don't remember things like humans do or for as long. I'm going to have to think of something special to do for him, maybe a whole roasted brown bear or something."

He shook his head at his friend. "Don't worry Edd, I don't blame you for what almost happened. Petyr was a crafty bastard, he tricked me and my father a time or two in King's Landing, it'd be stupid to think he couldn't do the same to you for at least a little while."

"But…"

"No buts!" Ranma interrupted, smiling grimly. "You did your duty despite not having won her heart and transported Sansa to Riverrun. You did all you could there, now I need your mind and your spear here with me. Do I have it?"

Edd nodded, reaching across to clasp Ranma's forearm with his. "You have it."

The beds of Cerwyn were comfy, especially to those portions of the Army that had been on the march from Harroway nonstop for over two months now. They slept soundly that night before enjoying the down time, and many a man took heart from Ranma's lessons over the next two days. Yet the fear still lingered.

One the dawn of the third day after their when roused by their commanders and troop leaders the next morning arrival the expeditionary force mustered quickly. They ate a hot breakfast of meaty stew and bread, knowing that some of them at least would never see the like again. But despite that certain knowledge and the fear of the enemy they were to face, they marched out into Cerwyn's courtyard, grim of face and purpose.

When he spoke however, Ranma finished what his lessons had begun, replacing their fear with a will of pure steel. Ice held above his head Ranma stood between the army and the entrance to the gate tunnel out of the castle. And when he spoke his voice was almost calm at first, but every man in the army heard it with almost unnatural clarity.

"All we have done, all the North has done up until this point is hold on, defend, fall back. What else could we expect? The White Walkers attacked when most of the North was away, when you were away because they feared you! The White Walkers fear humanity, they fear you and the strength of your arms, because they know that your ancestors banished them beyond the wall millennia ago!"

The North has been holding on, but we are now done giving up territory for lives. We are back, I am back, you are back, and the rest of the army will joining us here in the North soon enough. But before they do, we will begin! We will begin the liberation of the North, the liberation of our homes!"

There was a cheer at that, and Ranma let it go on for a moment before he and continued to speak. "We liberate Winterfell and we start pushing them back! This land is ours, and no undead horde, no race from the past, no foreign army, no invader whatever he looks like whatever his magics whatever his gods! No one is going to take it from us! The White Walkers think the cold and the winter give them power, but I am the Winter King, you are my army, and we are going to show them what true strength, what true courage is! Who is with me!?"

Ranma was answered with a roar from every man there, and the Army shouted "The Winter King, the Winter King! The King in the North! Death to the White Walkers, death to the White Walkers!"

"Now we march!" Ranma said, sheathing Ice on his back and pointing out of the gate before trooping to the front of the army joining Edd at the front of the pike regiment, his spear having been replaced with one with a dragonglass tip. The army marched out of Cerwyn, their eyes no longer afraid but grim and determined.

Thanks to Ranma's killing five of the six mages with the army around Winterfell, the White Walkers didn't know that human reinforcements had already arrived. Worse, the single mage had been so busy pulling in more wights, hoping to gather a large enough force to simply overwhelm Winterfell in a rush, that they didn't have many scouts out. Those they had out Ranma and Edd had seen to the night before. Ranma would have normally set Fenris on that task, but Fenris could not get in and out of Winterfell as easily as Ranma. Instead he had been the one to communicate with the wolf pack's further south, keeping a tab on the army's progress so that Ranma knew when to head to Cerwyn.

Even so, and despite the fact that it was only a morning's journey from Winterfell to Cerwyn, the White Walkers were ready for them. They pulled much of their army out from around Winterfell, gathering to the south at the edge of the Winter Town in the fields which had once been Catelyn's special pride and joy, her system of crop rotation having made it the most profitable farmland in the North beyond that situated around White Harbor. .

Even with his concentration on gathering more wights, the wizard had created two ice spiders, like the ones that had attacked the Last Hearth only even more haphazardly made, with none of the black metal in their makeup. They, the undead giants and the remaining beasts from Skagos added a whole new level of fear to the army. The two spiders stayed behind guarding the wizard, but the center of the army's ragged line was centered on the giants. The beasts were held in the back, ready to be sent forward to exploit any weakness.

Yet almost worse than that was the sheer number of wights which his magics had pulled from the ground and gathered into the army. They had started out with thousands of them, and had simply added more as the siege continued, making good the losses among the White Walkers 12 to 15 times over. Indeed, it was the sheer number that they had gathered since his arrival that had convinced Ranma not to wait for the Vale forces to arrive from White Harbor but to attempt to break the siege now. Their appearance varied of course, not just in how long they had been dead but age of the individual. More than one man swore, seeing skeletons and more recent wights that had been children at one point. All told, Ranma estimated they had around 18,000 undead warriors facing his expeditionary force.

Ranma took a moment to dress his lines beyond bow range, watching as thousands of wights archers put arrows to string as his own archers did the same behind his line. The spear regiment held the center of the line, with the men of House Cerwyn and Reed spreading out to either side in a loose wing formation bent somewhat backwards. House Ryswell's cavalry remained hidden in the trees behind the army, moving forward slowly but not entering the fields where the White Walkers had opted to meet the expeditionary force. Your first mistake bastards, you should've attacked us along the route, caught us where I couldn't fully deploy my pike thanks to the woods.

With a final nod to Edd Ranma raced forward, as he raced towards where the giants and the beasts anchored the center of the hordes. "Winter has come for you, bastards!" The White Walkers turned their bows on him, but Ranma was too fast, rushing forward right into the giants faces before roaring "Direwolf's Claw!" The vorpal blades lashed out in every direction, gutting the giants all around and in front of Ranma, opening up a weakness in the army where before there had been a strength. Several of them survived, but Ice came quickly off Ranma's shoulder and he began to butcher them before the nearest wights could close on him.

Behind Ranma, Edd held a long dragonglass tipped spear just like all the men around him, leading the spear formation. This formation lacked the tower shields of the small band that Ranma had taken out to clear a path for Fenris, Cerwyn simply didn't have the ability to create such and Ranma couldn't have gotten enough of them out of Winterfell to do any good.

Instead, they were going to use the pike regiment's emphasis on depth in conjunction with the dragonglass spears. Every man in the pike regiment was now armed with a dragonglass tipped spear, as well as a dagger at their belts. Arming this force had completely wiped out the supplies Cerwyn had of dragonglass, but if they won this battle it would've been worth it. "All right boys, this is it! For the old gods and the North, for humanity, for your homes, charge!"

"Honor above all! Winter is Coming!" The Army shouted as one, and even as the wights archers continued to fire on them the pike Regiment charged, with the rest of the Army racing along behind it. The archers continued to fire, with the dragonglass arrows doing their work, though only hits to the head or chest registered with the wights of course. But Ranma's mad assault had done its work, breaking the center of the White Walker's line before the pike regiment slammed into its guts like an auger.

The spears thrust forward and Edd roared bearing one wight back on the tip of his spear slamming it into another, thrusting the spear all the way through their bodies watching as the light of the magic that empowered them faded in their eyes one after another.

All around Edd the Cerwyn regiment smashed into the army that outnumbered it several times over. Their flanks were defended by the armsmen of House Cerwyn, and the Trident of Lord Reed's men, every third man carrying a dragonglass dagger. While their fellows hacked and crushed the bodies of the wights, these men went about purposefully performing death blows on them, stabbing down bodies in the head or heart. Even if the body had been cut into pieces before this death blow was delivered the Dragonglass dagger did its work, somehow destroying the magic that powered the undead corpse.

The archers too did their part, continually firing as fast as possible. Not aiming of course, simply trying to overpower their opposite numbers through sheer weight of fire. Wights could not fire anywhere near as fast as living people or as strongly, and there weren't enough White Walkers left in the army to make up the difference. Thousands of wights fell in that first ferocious clash, and the entire undead horde flinched back at the dragonglass weapons and the ferocity of their attackers. Then several archers changed to fire arrows, aiming at the outskirts of the horde, away from their own infantry, and the carnage spread.

But there were so many wights! After only a few moments the depth of their formation soaked up the initial charge of the expeditionary force, halting it in place. Then the wights began to pour around the Cerwyn Regiment, attacking the weaker sides and trying to get at the archers behind them.

But the White Walkers numbers also worked against them, keeping the beasts which could have broken the pike line for them from actually reaching the attackers. The wights were simply to clumped together to allow them through, and whatever control the White Walkers had over there servants did not extend to find maneuvers like that.

Even better, the fire arrows now killed several wights with every hit, something the archers under Jonothor Flint, Jonelle's husband, noticed. He quickly expanded the number of archers using fire arrows, ordering them to aim exclusively for the outskirts of the horde away from their fellows and for any groups which tried to close with them.

As the battle teetered in the balance, and the casualties mounted among the Northerners there was a shout from Winterfell, the sound of horns and Winterfell's gates rose. "Winter is coming!"

With that shout that defenders of Winterfell, every single man in the castle who could carry a weapon charged out, with Eddard and his House's armsmen in the lead, riding on horses who had been carefully husbanded since winter began. At Eddard's side ran Shaggydog, Summer, and Fenris. The giant pack leader's fangs, paws, even his fur glowed blue, and his howl was a warcry fit to shake the heavens, joined by his brothers.

Hearing that sound the beasts at the back of the horde, whose minds had been completely taken over by the White Walkers, broke from that control for a moment, pure fear or answering battle fury overriding it. But it didn't save them.

Fenris and his brothers slammed into them like the wrath of the Old Gods themselves, bowling the armored polar bears over, smashing the sabretooth tigers to either side, snarling and killing as they broke the back of the army wide open for the humans following after.

Hearing Fenris' howl and the warcry from in front of him over the silent undead Ranma knew the time had come to throw in his own reserves. Pulling a horn from his belt he to put it to his lips, sheathing Ice and jumping forward at the same time, landing with his feet on one wight. Standing on top of that wight he blew on the horn as loudly as he could, the sound echoing over the clamor of battle for a moment.

From behind the archers hidden in the Woodlands to either side of the Kingsroad galloped the light cavalry of Ryswell, shouting their battle cry "Riding Free! For the Winter King!"

They slammed into the wights assaulting Lord Reed and Lord Cerwyn's men holding the sides of the Cerwyn regiment. Though their lances were not tipped with dragonglass, there not being enough to go around, the sheer impact of their charge brought their fellows time. They recovered, and the men with the dragonglass daggers went to work once again.

With that signal given Ranma let the horn fall, pulling out Ice and howling as he hacked, slashed, and moved through the battlefield, cutting any wight or White Walker within his reach down searching for where the last Wizard and the Crystal could possibly be hidden.

Despite the pincer movement, despite the impetus of the last reserves arriving, the fact remained that the wights, even without the help of their animals most of which were now dead thanks to Fenris and his brothers, the battle was still very much in doubt. The wights simply outnumbered their attackers too much for even Ranma and his ki techniques to turn the tide. Men died, and if they were not quickly 'killed' by one of the people with Dragonglass daggers rose again to attack their friends. The pike regiment slowly began to give way, the men in the front rank going down to be killed permanently by their fellows with tears in their eyes, much of which froze in place, further hampering their effectiveness.

Yet many of the White Walkers had been at the back of the formation facing the oncoming expeditionary force, and most of them had died under the arrow onslaught from Eddard's men, the dragonglass arrowheads punching straight through their black metal armor. Without them, the wights could not coordinate very well, simply standing where they were and fighting as they could. The northerners had a chance, slim as it was.

Cutting through several wights who looked more like skeletons then anything that should be able to move let alone fight Ranma saw a glimpse of something so startlingly blue that it put the summer sky to shame. That's it!

Thrusting Ice forward he caught a wight slamming him back down onto the ground before bringing his hands back and ripping a dire wolf claw out. This cleared his way, and grabbing up Ice again Ranma charged forward towards the glimmer of the crystal he had just seen.

The wizard saw him coming, and gestured, sending his two quickly and not very well created spiders towards Ranma shrieking in that grating glass on glass language of the White Walkers. But there were no more White Walker warriors to aid him, and if he thought the spiders would gain him much time he was sadly mistaken.

One spider died as it lunged forward, Ice thrusting into his mouth and bearing it backwards before Ranma leaped up using Ice's hilt as a springboard and ripping the Valyrian blade up out of the spider as he kicked out at the other one, shattering the top of its carapace before landing and rolling, bringing ice around in a whirling arc that caught the Wizard in the side, cutting him in two.

With the Wizard dead, Ranma turned to the crystal which was still glowing blue despite not having any further magic users to power it. Ranma didn't honestly understand what it was, or what it was doing, but he hoped that it was important. And he didn't need to know what it was to break it. When in doubt destroy something, I like that. With that he raised Ice and brought it down with a roar. "Honor above all!"

The crystal shattered, sending thousands of shards in every direction cutting down dozens of wights who had turned in Ranma's direction that too slowly to stop him from killing the Wizard or destroying the crystal. It also peppered Ranma, piercing his lizard lion armor in places and even his body beneath it, cutting and gashing him. He gasped in agony as he was flung away from by the explosion of the crystal, rolling as he hit the snow and wincing at the pain of his new injuries, but he was still game as he pulled Ice up and around him again staring at the battle.

Without the crystal, the White Walkers didn't have enough power concentrated to keep the more ancient and decrepit wights, the skeletons and the like which had been pulled from the Earth going. They were a much more power intensive sort of wight than those newly killed. And thankfully for Ranma and his men and family, they made up more than half of the horde here attacking Winterfell.

With the crystal destroyed, all of those wights collapsed to the ground dead for real at last.

The battle didn't end there of course, there were more than enough of the wights remaining to keep fighting, but without the massive numbers advantage they had, the outcome wasn't in doubt any longer. Fire, confusion, the lack of orders, and the human's sheer determination won the day.

But the death toll was high. The Cerwyn pike formation had lost nearly half of its strength, the men of the Neck and House Cerwyn were down to less than a third of their number. This was something they shared with the man of House Stark, it's minor Houses and mountain clans allies. All of them had paid a horrendous price for their courage in attacking out from Winterfell, though thankfully none of the minor lords or their heirs had perished.

The archers on the other hand had taken few losses, most of those losses coming from the arrow duel during Ranma's charge. The light cavalry of Ryswell had taken several hundred casualties. The pikemen from Torrhen's Square however hadn't taken many casualties either, and Ranma quickly placed them under Edd's command, allowing him to incorporate them into the Cerwyn pike. They didn't have the training to be on the front lines, but they could at least follow along.

Ranma rubbed his face tiredly looking over at his father, who was nursing a broken arm, where he had taken a blow from a mace one of the wights and wielded in the final few moments of the battle. Lame leg and ruined shoulder Eddard had refused to stay behind as his men went to battle. He'd also of course been chewed out about it both before and after by his wife, but the searing kiss he had given her when he returned had silenced her for at least a few moments.

"The price was higher than I had hoped, lower than I feared. Dragonglass weapons can only do so much against that these kinds of numbers. I think we'll find that most of our losses were caused by wights which had already been cut apart, pulling our men down then making them easier meat for the others. There's nothing we can do to fight that kind of tactic, except use lot and lots of fire."

Ranma had been cautious in apportioning out fire arrows to his troops because he knew he wanted to use the cavalry, and no matter their level of training no horse would willingly come near fire. This had limited the fire arrow's effectiveness to those wights attacking the archers directly and the edge of the battle.

But now Ranma had to make a choice. "I think from now on that cavalry isn't going to be the way to go against the use wights except maybe as scouts," he said looking at Lord Ryswell, who had personally led his men north to meet with Lord Reed and the expeditionary force. "Worse, the cold is going to effect even northern horses before too long as will the depth of the snow. We also got lucky that the wights were so arrogant as to fight us here in the fields rather than the woods." Even the spears are going to be of little use in dense woodland, horses would be even worse.

The older man nodded his head gravely. "Agreed, until we have enough Dragonglass to give my men daggers and points for our lances, enough points to replace our lances six or seven times over a battle, we won't be able to use normal light cavalry slash and retreat tactics against these wights. They just don't feel it, they don't react, their formations will simply absorb or assaults and tie us down!"

All around them in the dining hall of Winterfell the mood was boisterous, but Ranma knew that wouldn't last. The battle been so hard-fought there could be no other response for now. But the people now cheering and laughing at the victory would soon remember the friends that weren't sitting next to them, the brothers or husbands that would never see home again. And more than one would remember how they'd been forced to stab said loved one to make certain he did not rise again as an abomination.

Looking around Ranma knew this, and he sighed. "We'll rest the army here. Portions of it have been on the road for months, and just fought one of the hardest battles I've ever been in. We'll rest the army here, retrain and wait for news that the Vale army has reached White Harbor. I'll send orders down to Lord Manderly telling him to outfit them with dragonglass weapons and send them up the White Knife. I understand he's got a few of Bran's special barges?"

"He does," Bran said, sitting next to his brother. Two years ago he might have been morose at being forced to not take part in a battle, now he was simply happy he had contributed in some fashion. "We sent them down there for safekeeping, since of course we couldn't keep them out in the open by HouseWellswith no one to defend it. But there certainly weren't enough of them to transport an entire army."

"Not the Army, but it supplies yes." Ranma said a faint smile his brother. "We'll meet them where the White Knife forks and march overland with them from there to Hornwood. With no word from Karhold, I'm afraid that Hornwood will be their next logical target. And let's face facts, the Last Hearth can probably hold, Hornwood isn't that strong the castle in comparison to the Last Hearth, despite its moat especially since that moat's probably frozen solid. Hopefully by the time we liberate Hornwood, the rest of the royal army will have arrived, and we'll be able to really start pushing the White Walkers back."

"There's one thing you should worry about Ranma," Eddard said cautiously. "I haven't heard anything from the Wall in over a month now. I doubt it's fallen, even if attacked from both sides the Wall is an incredibly dangerous defensive position. But what if the hordes we've been facing, all of the White Walkers we faced so far on this side of the Wall, were but the equivalent of your expeditionary force, merely the first into the fray?"

"I've thought of that already father," Ranma replied said with a faint sigh. "That's why, when the rest of the Royal Army arrives and we meet up with it, we'll march straight up towards Eastwatch-by-the-Sea and liberate it. From there we'll be able to both reinforce the rest of the wall, and move on Skagos. I'm afraid Bear Island will have to fend for itself right now, as will the mountains."

The Wull nodded grunting agreement, knowing how few men the other mountain clans had left in those mountains. While the White Walkers influence might have raised wights there, there was simply no reason to try to sweep through them just yet. It would be hard, dangerous going, and would play to the White Walker's strengths anyway. Best to leave it until the Wall was reinforced and the rest of the North liberated.

"In that case, I'd urge you to head up the White Knife to liberate the Last Hearth." Eddard replied. "With it and our logistics back in action, it will make an excellent forward position for the rest of the march to the Wall."

"I would if I had the Vale Army here in Winterfell." Ranma said ruefully. "But I think we'll need to throw them into the battle at Hornwood before that. We'll see."

Two weeks passed with Ranma and the rest of the army recovering in Winterfell, but the Vale army did at last arrive. Lord Manderly outfitted it as quickly as possible, allowing the army to rest in his city for several days before sending them on their way up the White Knife. That this completely emptied his city of dragonglass weapons was a problem, but given the city's defenses and not knowing where the rest of the Royal army was, Manderly agreed it was a worthwhile investment.

When he received word of that, Ranma and the expeditionary force headed off down the White Knife to meet them. Lord Hornwood had proven to be made of rather stern stuff, and had kept his men patrolling his lands in large numbers armed with dragonglass weapons ever since his shipment had arrived, thanks in part to his numbers being buoyed by the force sent to deliver those weapons. Because of this, he was able to retreat in good order with the information that another White Walker army was indeed marching towards his Castle.

It took another three weeks, but the two forces finally met up and began their march toward Hornwood. And by that point, more good news had arrived. Daenerys and the rest of the Royal Army had reached the Bite.

OOOOOOO

Daenerys stood at the prow of her flagship staring forward. It was a view she had seen before, but the giant mountains of ice scattered across the ocean's top were definitely different. Last time there had been only a few such, and they had been small barely discernible among the waves. Now there were dozens, and they were a danger she and her fleet had to respect.

Following Seaworth's suggestion several of the war galleys and all of the remaining cutters had been sent ahead of the transport ships, making their way slowly through the waters the rest of the fleet would have to traverse. In this manner they were able to steer the fleet through the ice with relatively few problems. One ship was struck prow on by an iceberg, but it was a relatively small one and the rent in the hull quickly patched. Another ship lost its rudder, but the sailors and soldiers on board were quickly taken off safely with only a few falling into the ocean during the transfer to freeze.

That wasn't the only problem they were facing. Here in the frigid north the dragons were now having serious issues with the cold. They could fly for several hours, but then they desperately needed to rest somewhere warm. The flagships supply of coal was quickly being used up now thanks to them, which was something Daenerys needed to remember when they took to the field.

But even that was secondary to the news the man standing next to her had brought. "I'd hope to see you again Theon." She said softly, turning and reaching out to touch his shoulder gently. "But I wish you had brought better news than this. Lord Rickard, I am sorry for your loss, and I know my husband will be as well. Our words cannot bring your son back, but I pledge to you that our House will do all we can to retake Karhold with you."

Rickard nodded, his face a mask against a grief so deep Daenerys couldn't even contemplate it without tears springing to her eyes. No father should have to bury his son. "I thank you your Majesty, your words mean much to me. But I must ask, what aid will that constitute?"

Daenerys frowned, turning her back on him for a moment before motioning to Theon to join them, making her way back to the large tent her dragons, she and Merry had been using on this journey. "How many days did it take you to get here from Karhold?"

"About a month, maybe three and a half months your majesty if you're counting the time since we set out from Karhold." Theon's voice was raspy, and his hands shook slightly. The barges had not been the best seagoing vessels, but thankfully halfway through their trip down the coast they had met with the small convoy heading up to Karhold with the dragonglass weapons. Even so, those few weeks aboard river barges put to sea during the winter would forever remain as one of the most horrifying memories in Theon's life, right up there with watching Torren Karstark die. "But I think we could possibly half that if we took actual war galleys and galleons instead of river barges."

"You're thinking of sending Rickard and a large force armed with dragonglass up to retake Karhold immediately?" Roger asked, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"Not quite." Daenerys said shaking her head. "Without knowing how the White Walkers may have reinforced it, or indeed the disposition of their total army that would put too much of our strength in a position where the rest of us could not come to aid them. No, we'll aim for a closer target but one which still will put a strong offensive force on their flank."

"Ramsgate or Widow's Watch." Greatjon replied, nodding his head. "Makes sense. But who's going to go?"

"Ramsgate, its position is more central to the rest of the North. Dacey, you and Meera will stay with me, Daryn you'll take the rest of the Wolfsworn with Theon, Lord Rickard and as many men as you can place on eight war galleys. We'll send four other war galleys along with you, just in case. Move to Ramsgate, if they're under siege relieve them. Then add any force there and the dragonglass shipment they've been sent to your stores. March along the coast from there as much as possible, add House Flint's men to yours. That will allow the war galleys to keep resupplying you with food and eventually more dragonglass weapons in the future."

"We'll retake Karhold, then move on to the Bay of Seals." Rickard said, his eyes burning with deadly light. He would have vengeance for his family, for his House, and for the North as a whole.

"The rest of the fleet will remain with me, and we will move to White Harbor. I'm afraid we'll probably have to strip the city of its own supply of dragonglass weapons, and even then we won't be able to put a dragonglass weapon into every man's hand. And I refuse to set off overland until we do." Daenerys replied, frowning. "Fire arrows and my dragons are well enough, but dragonglass is even more important. If we have to I'll order the majority of the army to wait in White Harbor until the next shipment of dragonglass arrives. Though my little ones and myself will move on as we can."

Greatjon and Smalljon both looked as if they would object, but seeing the look on their queen's face decided against it. While it was true enough men could overwhelm wights or possibly even White Walkers in time, the cost would truly be high. And according to Theon even fire arrows didn't work well on White Walkers. Though Daenerys was almost eager to see what their reaction to her little one's will be.

"If I may your majesty," Dacey began. "I think the ideas you've outlined so far are good, but don't get wedded to anything for the main army until we arrive in White Harbor. Besides Theon's tale, we haven't heard anything from the North since we left Maidenpool. We need new information to really decide what to do next."

Daenerys nodded, and with that the meeting ended, with all of the Lords returning to their own ships, and the fleet splitting. Theon and several local guides took command of the portion of the fleet under Rickard, and they moved north, while the rest of the fleet continued on their way into the Bite. White Harbor was still two weeks away, but the end of their voyage was at last in sight.

OOOOOOO

The tide had begun to turn. With a large portion of their initial forces sent around the Wall destroyed, and the influence they could push into the North thus greatly decreased, the odds of the White Walkers now winning the North without first taking the Wall was decreasing day by day. The war at the Wall had become a stalemate, the White Walker's main army unable to make any significant headway against the defenders, the design of the Wall such that it stymied all they could do.

The assaults from behind came in too small a strength to break the defenders. This was the biggest mistake the White Walkers had made up to this point in the war, though thanks to communication lag none on either side knew it. If the White Walkers had turned their attention on Eastwatch-By-the Sea the moment they landed on shore of the Bay of Seal's, the Wall would have fallen, and with it the North and possibly all of Westeros. But they hadn't, so blinded by the need to crush the heart of their old enemies they had neglected to think what could happen if they failed.

Yet even so, the assaults from the south had an effect. Every week that passed the defenders of the Wall were slowly cut off from even hunting south of the Wall,. Every force sent out came under constant, small-scale attacks. The defenders had gathered a large amount of provisions in their castles, but they also had many mouths to feed. So siege might make the Wall fall, but that would take time.

Nor were the White Walkers yet without cards they could play south of the Wall. The two dragons and the ten giant spiders moving across the Frozen Shore, and the even larger force slowly assembling on Skagos showed that very well indeed.

The tide had begun to turn, but winter's might could still win the day.

End chapter

---

Trying to make up forces for the White Walkers is sort of tough, but I think I've done a good job here. The humans have won a tremendous victory, but the war is far from over. The lack of dragonglass is going to hurt, I can tell you that.

Just so you all know and won't be disappointed later, I am not going to show every step of Jon and Margaery's courtship or anything but a couple scenes of their trip north, as I did Daenerys and her journey here. Nor, again, will this story end with all the problems solved entirely. Real life isn't that neat, and I mean for this story to, in some ways, be open ended like that. And frankly I am right on the edge of burnout with the AsoIaF universe. There just aren't enough good fics out there that emphasize what I like - warfare, the Starks, warfare, comedy, warfare lewd humor, warfare in that order - if you know any tell me - to help me feed my muse, and it's such a huge world and all the differing POV's, and ugh!

As always, hope you all enjoyed, and please leave a review.