Synopsis of Jon Baratheon's household:
Jon Baratheon – A boy of age fifteen, raised in the very halls of Casterly Rock, a powerful Stag with the claws of a Lion, and the biological son of the late King Robert Baratheon and the one true heir to the Iron Throne. He is the only one among his three siblings to have Robert's brown hair instead of Lannister blonde which made the Hand of the King very curious, despite the rumors of his siblings being born of incest between his mother and Uncle Jaime. Jon still loves his younger brother and sister, he holds a terrible grudge against Joffrey after his older brother murdered a pregnant cat just to see how kittens were born. And that very cat belonged to Tommen. From that point on, a wedge was driven between the two and a small sibling rivalry would make the Seven Kingdoms bleed with fresh blood.
Arya Stark – A feisty northern girl of age twelve, betrothed to Jon Baratheon when King Robert visited Winterfell to convince her father to become the Hand of the King. Her relationship with Jon was rocky from the start as she believed all southron people kept the code of chivalry where women could not do the things that men could, but she changed her ways when Jon revealed that he worshiped the Old Gods and would not stop her if she wanted to wield a sword. To make things even better, Jon gave her a sword of her own, a blade so thin that it could pierce a human's skin as swift as a needle, making her name the blade Needle.
Barristan Selmy – Lord Commander of Jon's Kingsguard.
Ser Arys Oakheart – Sworn member of Jon's Kingsguard.
Stannis Baratheon - Jon's eldest uncle. The current Lord of Dragonstone. The Crownlands answer to him which only a minority were loyal.
Renly Baratheon - Jon's youngest uncle. The current lord of Storm's End. The Stormlords answer to him, which all have risen their banners.
Myrcella Baratheon – Jon's little sister of age twelve. Converted to the Old Gods of the Forests shortly after her brother. Trained in the arts of swordsmanship by the best knights of the Rock and the game by her own grandfather, Myrcella is a Lion in the outer clothing of a harmless sheep. Pretending to be an innocent little girl while playing the game behind the backs of the royal court is what Jon would describe as cunning and crazy, as she could and will talk a Septa out of her robes. She would play a pivotal role in the war to come, and her counsel will be one of the key factors to Jon's victories on the field against their older brother.
Tommen Baratheon - Jon's younger brother of age ten. Currently at King's Landing.
Chapter Two: A Howl in the Night
King's Landing (Garlan Tyrell)
The bells of the city rang as people, rich and poor, gathered before the Sept of Baelor where the traitor was to answer for his crimes against the Iron Throne. The Goldcloaks have all but been deployed and stood before the dais where the confession would take place, the Queen regent had ordered her own men to stand as additional protected to keep the people away from the platform. Garlan Tyrell inhaled sharply as the Queen walked past him without glancing at his face, how much he wanted to plunge his sword in her back and cut down the false king but he knew he couldn't, he was here for another purpose. He was garbed in the colors of a Lannister guard that he had killed whilst making his way to the Sept, and thankfully no one questioned the blood on his forearm. He studied his surroundings and noted that the 'goldcloaks' standing at the back of the platform were his men as were three other Lannister guards, a group of 'merchants' lined up the front of the platform and one gave him a nod.
The loud commotion of jeers and insults alerted him that Lord Eddard Stark was being led out by the goldcloaks from wherever the Lannisters were keeping him prisoner, he noted that many of the smallfolk had remained silent while only a small minority shouted had the look of disgust on their faces. Garlan watched with a sneer as the Small Council and the High Septon appeared from within the Sept escorted by the Kingsguard and dozens of Lannister men, he quickly laid out a plan to grab both Eddard and Sansa before all hell breaks loose when he gives the order. He shared a glimpse with one of his men and they slowly took a step forward, their hands at the pommel of their swords, no one suspected their change in positions from the back to the front. As Eddard was forced up the steps to the podium, the Warden of the North managed to catch the familiar facial features of Ser Garlan Tyrell before he delivered his 'confession'.
"I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King..." Eddard started and paused briefly to share a glance with his daughter and a disguised Garlan, he saw the look in Garlan's eyes and knew what he must do. He had to tell the truth. "...I come before you to confess my treason in the sights of gods and men. I conspired against the Queen and against Prince Joffrey...because..." He swallowed and looked up with dignity and a glare that made the people cringe. "...JOFFREY IS NOT THE TRUE KING OF WESTEROS!" His proclamation silenced everyone, even Garlan himself was surprised at the fire burning inside the Lord of Winterfell. "On his deathbed, King Robert named his second son Jon as his true heir! Not Joffrey! Both Lord Stannis and Lord Renly already knew this before King Robert told me! Jon Baratheon is your rightful king. NOT THIS USURPER!" He growled as he turned his eyes towards the false king.
"You're a lair and a traitor!" Joffrey yelled in anger.
"I spit on your name Prince Joffrey!" Eddard retorted as he spat on the very grounds of the Sept causing an uproar from the High Septon and several smallfolk that followed the Seven. "Strike me down and my son and your brother would raise their banners and split you apart! And when you journey to the next life, I'll be waiting for you...So I can cut you open myself!" He roared as two members of the Kingsguard held him back.
"LIES!" Joffrey was burning with rage by then. "I am the rightful king! Ser Ilyn! Bring me his head!"
Garlan has seen enough, he eased his longsword from its scabbard and ran his blade through Ilyn Payne's back as the royal executioner made his way to the platform. "NOW! To arms men! In the name of the true King!" He roared and his men revealed their true colors. 'Goldcloaks' ran their spears through Lannister men as 'Lannister' men fought against members of the Kingsguard. The crowd screamed in terror but no one really know whom was fighting whom, until the Tyrell men revealed their positions. Garlan grabbed a surprised Sandor Clegane and hurled him towards the a group of Lannister men in his bid the rescue Sansa but was halted in his advance by Boros Blount and Meryn Trant, both members of the Kingsguard.
"Stand down in the name of the king!" Demanded Ser Boros.
Garlan scoffed and went into a defensive stance. "Joffrey's no king of mine!" He roared in defiance.
"Then you shall die a traitor's death!" Ser Meryn growled.
"Ha! Sharp words do not make a man a knight." Garlan retorted, causing Meryn to charge forward.
He parried Meryn's attacks and dodged Boros' blade before he gave a hard upper cut that left Boros in a trance before smashing the two Kingsguard together, when the two bodies met, so too did their blades, both Ser Meryn and Ser Boros were killed by their own swords. He gently pushed their bodies aside, allowing them to tumble to the dirt in a fresh pool of blood, he spat on their corpses before turning around to continue his advance. A squadron of Lannister men hidden in the Sept rushed out to defend the Small Council and to his outrage, dragging Sansa away from the fight. He cursed his luck as the eldest daughter of Eddard Stark was taken away, crying and screaming for someone to help her, he tried to...but the Lannisters were just too many, even for him.
The goldcloaks at the front of the platform turned around to face the threat...only to receive swords in the back by the disguised merchants and smallfolk hiding within the crowd. The merchants and smallfolk in disguise ripped their robes apart to reveal the steel armor of Highgarden. By openly defying Joffrey's rule as King of Westeros and launching an assault to rescue a Stark clearly show the people of King's Landing that the Tyrells are declaring their swords in the name of Jon Baratheon, the rightful King of Westeros. More goldcloaks joined the fight from all sides, Garlan and his men were clearly outnumbered two to one but for each Tyrell dead, they took at least ten goldcloaks with them.
Garlan pulled his sword out of a goldcloak and turned towards Eddard, only for his eyes to widen in absolute horror. A Lannister guard had grabbed a spear after killing one of his men disguised as a goldcloak, time seemed to slow as the Tyrell ran forward in his attempt to stop what was about to happen, he could only watch helplessly when the spear went through Eddard's abdomen. "You fucking cunt!" He roared. The Lannister looked up only to see the fury stricken Garlan swinging his sword, the guard's head went flying to the feet of a shocked Petyr Baelish, the Master of Coins. In his anger and anguish, he stormed towards Littlefinger whom wasn't guarded by any men and ran his blade through the man a dozen times before kicking the body down the steps. After which, he fought his way back to Eddard's side.
"To me! Rally to me!" He bellowed. "Defend Lord Stark!" The surviving Tyrell moved onto his location, cutting down anyone that approached the wounded Eddard Stark.
Ripping off his cloak, Garlan applied pressure to Eddard's abdomen in an attempt to stop the bleeding as his men rallied around him. "Clear a passage! Kill anyone that attempts to block us!" He commanded. His men didn't hesitate to obey his commands, they ran into the crowd which quickly parted before them, he had lost six good men in his attempt to free Eddard Stark but dealt a massive blow to the Kingsguard by taking out two of their most feared fighters. The goldcloaks would be in need of fresh recruitment after this very day, his men had made bloody sure to thin their ranks and the Lannister guards even more so. He had also taken out the Master of Coins in his rage, cutting off the Crown's supply of crownstags. He could hear the false king yelling and cursing as they made their escape. His disguised men stationed at the Mud Gate quickly cleared a path and together they rode as quick as they could towards the hidden hut on the outskirts of the city, Arya Stark nearly screamed when she noticed the blood pouring out of her father's stomach, but she quickly recovered and mounted a nearby horse.
"Leave me...I'll only be a burden..." Eddard rasped between breaths. "Take Arya and...get out..."
Ser Garlan only held the reins of his horse tighter. "Not on your life! You'll live through this!" He hoped.
After three hours of hard riding, they managed to make their way into lands occupied by the Stormlands where no goldcloak nor Lannister would follow and were only two days away from Storm's End itself, Garlan's men managed to find a hidden location to make camp for the night where he gently laid the gravelly injured Eddard against the foot of a tree. His daughter, Arya sat at his side as she attempted in vain to clean the blood that had already soiled the cloak. Garlan cursed himself, not only had he failed to rescue Sansa Stark but he also failed to prevent any harm from befalling Eddard, he knelt down beside the Lord of Winterfell and gently fed him a bowl of water. Eddard choked and coughed as he drank from the bowl, his breathing was ragged and heavy as he looked at his daughter.
"Arya...I'm dying..." He simply stated.
"No...no...you'll be fine. Jon will see to that..." Arya's voice trembled as she replied.
"You must not give up, Lord Stark." Garlan insisted. "You must hold on until we reach our camp at Storm's End. We have healers that can help you. The Reach has herbs that can cure any injuries. My family will-!"
Eddard merely shook his head. "It's too late...I'll never be able to complete the journey to Storm's End...My legs are weak, and my vision blurs..." He coughed and took a deep breath. "My eyes are darken."
"NO! You can't die like this!" Arya stubbornly replied, as she sobbed. "Not today...PLEASE! Not today! You promised me...You said you would be there when I become Queen..."
"Hush...it's alright little one...my body is weak...you have to let me go." Eddard whispered as he slowly reached out for Arya's cheek. "I cannot stay and walk you down the aisle as I have dreamed of...that task falls to Robb...And I beg your forgiveness for breaking my word to see the realm declare you as their Queen...but know that I'll be watching on the other side." Arya only shook her head. "I'm not afraid of dying Arya, death has been but a distant dream...and now it grows ever closer for me to be reunited with my brother...my sister...Know that I go gladly." Arya sobbed even harder and held his hand tight as fresh tears came down her cheeks. "Tell your mother...and your siblings...that if the dead can come back to this earth...and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near them...and you...in the brightest day and the darkest night...Tell my bannermen not to mourn me dead...but to think I am gone and wait for me...for we shall meet again in the next life." He rasped as he started coughing, Arya reached down to tend to his wounds but his hands grabbed hers. "Leave it. Remember what I said to you...remember it. Promise me Arya? Promise me." He stared into her eyes like his sister had done to him all those years ago.
"I...I promise." Arya whispered softly.
He then turned his gaze weakly to Garlan Tyrell of the Reach. "Ser Garlan...I have a favor to ask of you, a last wish for a dying soldier..."
"Name it, my lord." Garlan replied, holding back his tears that were about to fall.
"Tell Jon...tell him that..." Eddard placed his right hand over his heart as he said the next sentence. "I would have followed him...As my general...my brother...and my king."
"I will my lord...I swear it I will." Garlan answered just to see Eddard take his last breath as the light finally left his eyes. Arya screamed and tried to wake her father but to no avail when his hand fell from hers, she flung her arms around Garlan and cried her lungs out. The men of the Reach bowed their heads low when they realized what had happened, Garlan gently pried Arya from his chest and looked into her eye. "I beg forgiveness milday...for my failure to rescue your father and sister...I promised you that no harm would befall Lord Stark...and I failed...forgive me." He bowed his head low.
"You have nothing to apologize for...You risked your life to save my father...and for that I thank you." Arya said softly. "I...I need some time alone..." Was all she said before running off.
Garlan watched the young Stark girl run off before she collapsed onto her knees and cried out in anguish towards the heavens, for taking away her lord father when she needed him most. Her anger soon turned to grief, as she brought her hands to her face and cried. He turned his attention away from the scene and back to the lifeless body of Eddard Stark, he gently placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head.
"Be at peace, son of the North."
Storm's End (Renly Baratheon)
Hundreds if not thousands of soldiers poured in almost every single day on a massive plain on the outskirts of Storm's End, Renly Baratheon was true to his word when he promised the might of the Stormlands and the Reach to back Jon's claim for the Iron Throne. There were about sixty thousand knights and men-at-arms on the field alone with a thousand more on the way, Stannis Baratheon arrived a little later with nearly eight thousand men from the Crownlands, the Lord of Dragonstone regretfully broke the news that some of the Crownlords had chosen to side with the usurper. Renly had raged about their loyalty to the true heir for nearly an hour and it took both Loras Tyrell and Margaery Tyrell to calm him down, and when he did, he promised their heads on spikes which Stannis agreed wholeheartedly.
Reports on dire situations in the Riverlands kept flying before the Baratheon brothers, they knew the Riverlords were Robert's most loyal allies and they had to do something to win their favor but none of them could act until their nephew, the King gets here. Stannis had praised Robb's actions at the Trident whilst Renly had shown a look of surprise at the fact that, the Young Wolf had executed Walder Frey for being an oath-breaker and taking the Twins for himself. Margaery had reassured the two brothers that her older brother Garlan would be arriving anytime soon with Eddard Stark and the future Queen of Westeros. Both Stannis and Renly had no other choice but to rely on Garlan Tyrell to rescue Arya Stark and her father from the jaws of King's Landing before Joffrey takes their heads, what they did not know was that Eddard had passed from this world a few hours ago. A commotion from outside startled them from their deep thoughts, the two brothers together with Ser Loras and Margaery walked outside to see what is the cause of the commotion.
"His Grace! His Grace has arrived!" A Baratheon men cheered.
"If he's here, we can finally take the fight to the Lannisters!" A Tyrell men announced.
True enough, Jon Baratheon was indeed coming, he rode on the back of his mighty black steed that was larger than any horse breeds in the South, trotting alongside him was Ghost, the feared white Direwolf with red eyes in the Westerlands. On his left rode Myrcella, his younger sister, her blonde hair fluttered as the breeze blew against her face, the men must have truly been awestruck by the large sword that hung on her saddle. Behind the two Baratheon siblings were Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Arys Oakheart, the only two members of the Kingsguard that were made known to Robert's will to make Jon his heir instead of Joffrey. Further back marched nearly eight hundred retainers hailing from House Buckler, Lord Buckler was filled with pride for having the honor of escorting the rightful king.
"HAIL TO THE KING!" Stannis roared as he knelt, causing the entire camp to drop to their knees.
"Rise my fellow brothers in arms..." Jon said as he bade his two uncles to stand. "I am not the King yet and I'll never be until the High Septon declares it to be." Stannis opened his mouth to argue. "In the eyes of the men I am king, aye. But not in the eyes of the gods and the people. The men can continue calling me 'Your Grace' for as long as they want to, but I will not call myself one until I take the Iron Throne by rightful means." He retorted before a hint of amusement caught his eye. "A little bird told me that you, Uncle Stannis, has converted to the Old Gods of the Forests, and from what I know, you're not a man of religion." Renly stifled a chuckle at his brother's stunned face.
"I would do anything to prove my loyalty, Your Grace." Stannis replied gruffly.
"I would never make any demands for any man to prove their loyalty, you should know that Uncle Stannis." Jon answered with a gentle smile, Stannis nodded but said nothing else. "Uncle Renly, I hope you wouldn't mind to part with some of the rations. Lord Buckler and his retainers are weary from the road...after clashing with a company of goldcloaks that were sent after us."
"What?!" Renly proclaimed with a look of outrage on his face.
Jon quickly raised his two hands in an effort to come his uncle down. "It's alright uncle, Ser Barristan and Ser Arys ensured that no harm came to us whilst Lord Buckler and his men fought, not a single men on our side went down in the fighting." He smirked as he said the next few words. "I cannot say the same for the goldcloaks that came after us, the crows should be having a feast by now." Roars of laughter erupted from all over the camp at Jon's sarcastic remark, even Stannis managed a small smirk himself. "But putting aside all these problems, I really think we should discuss our next step. A war is coming and I want everyone to understand the part they'll play in it. I need some volunteers to help us with our carriage which we have carried with us, it contains fresh games that I personally shot. And I also need a few men to escort my sister to Storm's End where she'll be safe." With that said, Jon began walking forward towards the command tent with his two uncles flanking his sides and behind them were countless of lords and knights.
"That's not fair!" Myrcella yelled after Jon's retreating form. "You can't keep me away from the war council forever!" She growled as several Baratheon men led her horse the other way.
Jon ignored his sister's yells of denial and promises of swift and painful retribution behind him as he neared the command tent, a map of the entire Stormlands, Riverlands and the area surrounding King's Landing were perfectly laid atop the table with several chess pieces representing different Houses all over the place. He studied the map carefully. "I want a report, how many Houses from the Crownlands supports my claim?" He asked, eyes never leaving the map.
"Houses Brune, Buckwell, Celtigar, Rykker, Hayford and Rosby." Stannis replied grimly.
"That's good enough." Jon said as he moved a chess piece and slammed it next to Riverrun. "Riverrun cannot hold against a siege when her own vassals are still gathering up their men, in order for the Riverlords to join their swords to ours we have to lift the siege by cutting down the Lion." He declared with a determined look in his eye. "Ser Loras, I'm placing you in command of our vanguard troops, you are to lead them towards Riverrun, you are to engage all patrols and raid all camps along the way. If possible, learn where the northsmen are making camp and establish a means of communication with them. Work together and eliminate the Lannister threat plaguing the Riverlands." The Knight of the Flowers gave a swift bow as he left the tent. "While Ser Loras engages the Lannister force laying siege to Riverrun, I'll take another portion of the army and lay siege to Harrenhal. We'll oust the Mountain from the fortress he calls home and return it to the rightful owners." Several voices spoke out at once.
"This is too dangerous." Renly said softly. "The Lannisters will cut you down when they see you."
"You're no good to us dead. Let someone else go instead." Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden suggested.
"Your Grace, Lord Tyrell is right, the risk is too great." Stannis argued. "Let me lead the charge."
"I know the risks." Jon silenced his uncle and everyone with one sharp look. "How can I call myself King if I can't lead the men? How can I call myself King if the people do not see me riding in front? No, this is my duty. When the day finally comes when King's Landing is ours and Arya is safely at my side, then I would gladly set aside my blade, but until then...I will not rest until I right the wrong that Joffrey has committed against the innocent." His fists shook with anger as he spat out the next few words. "Those bastards that attacked us, they spoke of Joffrey as if he was their savior, their true king and all of my father's bastards were nothing but rotten trash." He stared at his uncles. "He killed them. He knew they were children and he killed them. He killed them all." His eyes burned with fury that one could have sworn that he was Robert Baratheon reincarnated with a little Tywin Lannister inside.
Renly decided to take the gentle approach. "And he'll answer for it. I promise you, Joffrey will answer for this." He reassured, he breathed a sigh of relief when his nephew's rage left. "When we take King's Landing from the Lannisters, I'll personally drag Joffrey and throw him at your feet, his fate will be in your hands, and your hands alone. And I promise you that no harm will come to Tommen." He gave a hard glare towards any lord who dares speak otherwise. Fortunately, none had any arguments with that.
Jon calmed down and sighed. "Was there any word from the Westerlands?" He asked.
"Aside from the siege at Riverrun and the Mountain pillaging the villages. Lord Tywin has mustered a large host of nearly fifty thousand at Oxcross which I believe he would use them to stall the northsmen advance, but with the Twins under Bolton control, he will be disputed between aiding the siege or engaging the northern host." Lord Alester of House Florent answered.
"The Twins?" Jon repeated, clearly confused. "How did the Boltons gain control of the bridge?"
"We aren't really clear what happened, but it's confirmed that the northsmen stormed the Twins and executed Walder Frey for being an oath-breaker. As the majority of the host continued south, three hundred Bolton retainers remained at the bridge." Stannis spoke.
"Another problem removed, that's fine." Jon waved the concern aside. He didn't really like the Freys more than he liked Joffrey. "We should be focusing on-?!"
Before anything else can be said, a Baratheon men-at-arms barged into the tent with a frantic look on his face. "MILORDS! I beg your pardon, milords. Your Grace! I bring a message from Ser Loras." He bowed his head. Renly nodded for the soldier to deliver his message. He glanced up fearfully and turned his eye towards Jon. "Your Grace...Ser Garlan has returned from King's Landing..." A wave of relief flushed over the tent before the happiness was crushed by the next sentence. "But Lord Eddard Stark died before reaching our camp..." The reaction that came next was instant, Jon immediately marched out of the tent with dozens of his bannermen running after him, Ghost sprinting directly at his side.
Jon came to a direct halt at the entrance of the camp where several Tyrell men stood with their heads bowed as a horse-drawn carriage came into view over the horizon, his heart came pumping faster and faster with each step he took. Lying inside the wagon was a body concealed by a white cloth, with trembling hands, he gently lifted the cover and his eyes went huge. For Lord Eddard Stark lay with his eyes closed, his face ever peaceful with his arms draped across his chest, a small wave of brown hair crashed into his side before he could even speak. As the crowd grew closer, drawn by the curiosity of nearly a dozen lords standing solemnly, many yelled bloody murder the moment they spotted the familiar features of the late Warden of the North. Some even cried for blood. Renly demanded an instant march to King's Landing. Stannis took it much better, but one could see the fire in his eyes. Ghost, the white direwolf let out a mournful and haunting howl into the heavens.
"Cravens!"
"Those bloody bastards!"
"The North will see them hang for this..."
"Justice! There must be justice for this!"
Those were some of the words spoken by the various men.
Ser Garlan of House Tyrell dismounted from his white steed, his face filled with remorse and guilt as he knelt before Jon along with all his men begging for forgiveness, for their failure to deliver Eddard Stark alive and well. "Your Grace, I will accept any punishments you deem worthy for I have failed to prevent any harm befalling the late Lord Stark..." He stated slowly before continuing. "Before Lord Stark passed from this world, he told me to deliver this message to you." Jon nodded for him to continue speaking. "He told me that he would have been proud to follow your banner, to stand by your side as a brother in arms, he would have been proud to call you his King."
"You...did your best Ser Garlan." Jon said softly before reaching down to pull the knight to his feet. He turned and faced the Tyrell men still on their knees. "Rise, all of you." He added. They rose. He finally realized that the wave of brown hair that he saw earlier was none other than his betrothed, Arya, he quickly draped his arms over her shoulders when he felt the fresh tears on his hunting tunic. "Uncles, can you see to it that Uncle Eddard is prepared...Do whatever it takes that is necessary to prepare him for transportation, he's a man of the Old Gods and he should be returned to where he truly belongs, in the crypts beneath Winterfell."
"Lord Stark was a close friend of ours." Stannis spoke calmly. "We'll see to it. You have my word."
"There's a weirwood tree in the forests nearby. The Andals missed that one apparently." Renly said softly. "You can make your prayers there..." He suggested.
Jon nodded solemnly, his hands still holding onto a sobbing Arya. "I want ravens to be sent from Dorne to Castle Black of Lord Stark's death at the hands of the Lannisters, the whole realm must learn the truth." He commanded.
"It will be done, Your Grace." Ser Garlan replied.
"Ser Loras. My orders stand."
"Riverrun will be free, Your Grace. I'll try and leave some lions for you." Ser Loras answered with his head bowed.
"I also need someone to deliver this news to Myrcella..." Jon added, he paused. "She won't take it well."
"I'll go." Lady Margaery Tyrell, wife to Renly volunteered without a thought. "She'll need a shoulder to cry on and I can help." Jon inclined his head in gratitude.
"Go on, Your Grace." Stannis urged his head towards the trees. "We'll take care of things here."
"Walk with me Arya..." Jon slowly led Arya back towards the direction of the forests. He could hear several footsteps marching behind him, no doubt guards assigned to ensure his safety, he ignored them totally and focused on finding the heart tree that his uncle mentioned. It took several minutes, but he finally found the weirwood tree with the carved face in its trunk. "Legends say that no man call tell a lie in the presence of a heart tree, as the Old Gods watches and knows when we do. Do you know the words of my House?" It wasn't a question but he still said it anyway.
"Ours is the Fury." Arya whispered softly.
"Aye, and Joffrey has clearly earned mine." Jon replied with narrowed eyes.
"Kill them..." Arya muttered coldly. "Kill them all."
"They have your sister, once she's free...I promise you...We will kill them all."
A gentle breeze blew past their faces. A howl from a wolf was heard. Then another. And another.
The Old Gods have answered their prayers for vengeance.
Oxcross (Tywin Lannister)
Tywin Lannister was no fool. He knew the game he was playing. He knew the risks he had to take to ensure his family's legacy is not stained. When the news of the Baratheon brothers raising their banners in support of his grandson, Jon Baratheon, he knew it wouldn't be long before he is forced to make a decision between the Iron Throne and the only grandson he rather have as King. Now, after rallying his banners and sending nearly 14,000 men to lay siege to Riverrun while the rest awaited his further orders by setting up camp in the village of Oxcross. But that was before Jon declared himself a claimant of the Iron Throne and the rightful heir, now he was beginning to regret his decision of attacking Riverrun. But there was no time to dwell on mistakes of the past. Of course, he had heard about Robb Stark's bold attack on the Twins and ousting House Frey as oath-breakers to House Tully, if the northern boy had been his son he would have awarded him the seat of the Rock for his cunning move against the Freys. And then, there was that raven that arrived two days ago about the rescue attempt that left two Kingsguard dead and several of his daughter's men along with a dozen goldcloaks slaughtered. He had crushed the letter and called that oaf of a grandson who ordered Ned Stark's execution an idiot, but on the outside he had to show that he was in support of his family's decision though he might not agree with them. And then, there was that raven that arrived this early morning bearing the ill-fated news of Lord Eddard Stark's death at the hands of a Lannister guard, his grandson, Jon had called the northsmen to stand and fight for vengeance. Any further thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Lord Gawen Westerling and his son, Ser Raynald Westerling.
Ser Raynald, knighted for outstanding chivalry. He recalled. The heir of the Crag whom had trained beside Jon Baratheon ever since the boy was his ward at the Rock, the bond between the two were unlike no other, there was no doubt in his mind that he had chosen the right man for this job. And the right family. A job that had to remain a secret for all eternity or risk staining the name of Lannister for years to come.
"You summoned us, my lord?" Gawen inquired.
"I did. Come. Sit." Tywin motioned to the chairs. Once the Lord of the Crag and his son was comfortable, then did the real meeting began. "Tell me, Lord Westerling. What do you think of my grandson, Jon Baratheon? Wait, don't answer. I already know. Your son is a very close friend of his and would not hesitate to lay down his life for his name if need be. Your loyalty to my grandson should be applauded if we are not on the brink of war." He stated simply, mentally taking the flinching in Ser Raynald's body posture and Lord Gawen's look of sudden dread and fear. He mentally smirked, now he had fully secured the two pieces that he could use to establish some sort of connection with his grandson, he didn't say any other word as he pulled out a sealed parchment with the sigil of his House. "I want you, Ser Raynald, to break camp with a couple of loyal soldiers from my retinue by nightfall when all are asleep, and ride with haste to Storm's End." He started, and studied their reactions very carefully.
"My lord, I can assure you that my-?!" Gawen's protests were cut off by Tywin's glare.
"I'm issuing your son a command." Tywin snapped back, causing the Lord of the Crag to stiffen and his son to lean forward in interest. "That parchment is for my grandson's eyes only. Take it to him and swear your sword to his service, pledge him your fealty and swear on your life and honor that you'll stand by his side until he takes the Iron Throne." Ser Raynald went speechless. The Old Lion of the Rock took a sip from his cup filled with wine before gazing into the eyes of the young knight. "This war will already be won if my daughter would just admit that Jon is the better king and the rightful heir to the Iron Throne as the late Robert decreed in his will. Ironic isn't it? As we speak here while I ponder my next move on whether to support the crown or my grandson, the Stormlands is gearing up for battle especially after what that oaf of a boy my daughter calls king decided to take Ned Stark's head. Fortunately, the Tyrells were there to prevent a beheading but they failed to prevent harm from befalling the Warden of the North..." He sighed as his eyes found its way to Ser Raynald, causing the young knight to gulp in fear.
"Ned Stark is dead, killed by one of my daughter's men while that boy calls for his head. Lady Sansa is held a captive at King's Landing, and when the news reaches the ears of the Wolves, their anger will only increase ten fold. Last I heard, the Stark boy has taken the Twins for himself and has crossed the Trident with nearly twenty thousand men, of which four thousand were Frey men, forced to fight under penalty of death." To paint a much clearer picture for his guests, Tywin lifted a chess piece in the shape of a wolf and slammed it next to Riverrun, he then moved a Stag to Riverrun as well. "The Starks will come to the aid of their allies from the north, and if Jon is as wise as I know him to be, he'll move his host south to break Jaime's siege of Riverrun. Jon will then seek an alliance with the North and the Riverlords, the North will bent their knees as he is betrothed to the Stark girl, the Riverlords will follow as he has the better claim. And if the Vale of Arryn decides to raise their banners..." He paused.
"We will be overrun." He stated plainly. "Cut off from all sides. An alliance with the Dornish would be foolhardy, they'd rather sit back and bent the knee to the winner."
"My lord...does this mean..." Ser Raynald said cautiously. "...are we declaring our swords for Jon?"
Tywin sighed as he poured himself another drink. "I ordered Jaime to take fourteen thousand men and commanded the Mountain to burn the Riverlands in retribution for Tyrion's capture. So no, I cannot declare my support for Jon even if I wanted to. The Stranger can take me and I will never deny the fact that I urge to ride out to Storm's End and lay my sword at Jon's feet this very instant. He has the better claim...a larger army at his back...and he'll be a much more better King than Joffrey." He added before giving them the feeling that he had said too much in one night. "I have nothing further for you. Ser Raynald, my orders stand. You'll ride to Storm's End at nightfall, take as many horses as you can. It's wise to rally as much men to your side before breaking camp, speak to your friend, Ser Tytos Brax and see if a compromise could be made between your Houses. Lord Gawen, return to your holdfast the following dawn and dip your banners when you receive my raven. Under no circumstances that this meeting ever took place. If anyone in your household cannot be trusted...kill them." He narrowed his eyes in warning. "Your very lives depend on it."
The Old Lion drank his wine in content when the two agreed.
The whole of Westeros will believe that Tywin Lannister is supporting his family, and hence the Iron Throne. But no one, not even his own children or bannermen would ever suspect that the Old Lion was in fact backing Jon Baratheon's claim from the shadows. Commander House Westerling to declare their support for Jon's rebellion is just one of the many plans that the Lion has in his palm, with Petyr Baelish dead at the hands of Ser Garlan Tyrell, the Small Council will turn to him for gold to fund the levies raised by the Crownlords loyal to the crown. But Tywin's no fool. He won't allow his gold from the mines of the Rock to be squandered away raising recruits that would most certainly die, no, he'd rather stage an 'accident' and deliver the gold to Jon's footsteps. With the right amount of gold, and the right amount of threats, the Vale might even declare their banners for Jon. Yes, he nodded his head in silence. Jon needs the Vale to control the North in any event that the Krakens try anything. And the Vale needs Jon's guidance more so than they need the sickly heir of the late Jon Arryn. A letter with his signature. That'll do.
"Guard. Bring me ink and paper."