The new dream started yet again. Music and the mouthwatering scent of rosemary roasted mutton filled the Great Hall. Sometimes it was venison, others rabbit, but always the same haunting, complex melody and then an angel's voice singing, 'Every night in my dreams I see you, I feel you. That is how I know you go on … Far across the distance and spaces between us, you have come to show you go on … Near, far, wherever you are, I believe that the heart does go on …'

He sat entranced, satisfied, and whole at the high table of Winterfell in the Lord's Chair. Catelyn, naturally beside him as a wife should be, looked up at her husband through the long flowing red hair curving across her perfect brow with adoring eyes. He leaned into her and rested his hand on her fecund belly; the child growing within her his son, the next Lord of the North. Catelyn clasped her hand atop his; love flowed visibly between them. He'd fallen into this beguiling vision dozens of times since that night, both awake and asleep.

Then the wildling's happy, unattainable reverie turned dark. The giant ironwood doors clanged open and a mighty gust tore through the feasting chamber blowing out the flame of every candle and torch. The rustling, swirling wind carried a low pitched moan, 'Looooooooooooooohgunnnnn. Miiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnne.'

He heard a sigh, and then the scrape of a chair pushing backward. Catelyn stood up. "It's Ned again," she declared wearily. She tugged at Lohgun's hand, pulling him up to stand with her. Soft, moist lips brushed against his and then instantly pressed down hard, crushing into him with excitement and at last the teasing dart of her tongue into his mouth. He groaned and pressed back against her. He smelled her, inhaling hard, tasting the excitement she exuded into the black air. His auburn haired goddess chuckled deep in her throat, 'Time enough for that later my love. But first … its really time you dealt with … him.' And Catelyn's body glowed, lighting up the length of the murky gallery, showing the way out.

They walked out of the Great Hall and into the courtyard, finding black birds, screaming angry caws, festooned along the tops of Winterfell's walls and buildings. A puzzled, angry look spread across Cat's face, marring her beauty. She stopped a moment and stamped her foot down petulantly. 'Be gone!' And her aura expanded, until the light she emitted melted the darkness of the ravens into nothingness, ending their desperate squawking. A mile returned to her features and Lohgun again felt content. They resumed their journey and came to the entrance to the crypts.

Down and around and around they descended, all the time holding hands, the circular stone stairs into the stygian darkness where lay the remains of the Lords and Ladies of Winterfell and the even older Kings of the North. Cat's aura lit the way and when they reached the first underground level her eerie golden glow bounced off the giant cavern's vaulted ceiling and between the regularly spaced support columns. At last they reached the first niche holding the most recently entombed Starks. Sadly Lohgun gazed upon the life sized statues of kindly Lord Rickard, brash Brandon, and doomed, spirited Lyanna; each grasping an iron sword.

Caw!

A gentle breeze born from black wings blew across his bare arms, causing all the hairs to stand on end. A three eyed raven landed on the shoulder of Ned's life like sepulcher. Something inside the Badger twitched. Cat clutched his left hand tighter. He peered closer at his friend's statue

Caw!

'Be gone! Be gone!' Cat snapped nervously.

The distant reflection of three different, almost familiar faces started to take shape in the black bird's eyes. Then the raven's neck turned to peer at the statue's head. Lohgun peered closely at his friend's visage. Three perfectly spaced small holes were drilled into the brow right above Ned's stone eyes.

Caw!

Creaaaaaaaak!

Terror and adrenaline shot through the wildling. Dust and small chips of rock fell as the effigy of Ned started to move, its arm raising, coming closer and closer to Lohgun. The things lips and mouth were no longer stone, but living flesh. They moved.

'Kill him! Kill him! Then we can be together forever my love,' screamed Cat.

(remember yourself)

'Loooooooooooooooh …'

Snickt!

"… gun"

The Badger pivoted and threw out his right hand at the figure that had stepped up behind him.

"Whoa!" shouted Ned, eyes wide in utter surprise.

In a nano second Lohgun realized his mistake and started to turn his wrist away; a single claw slashed a small furrow in the skin along Ned's temple.

Instantly his friend's hands shot up and grabbed the wildling's arm and elbow, locking it up tight with his own.

"Gods Ned!" Lohgun barked plaintively.

"Easy. Easy." Ned repeated.

The tension poured out of the Badger and he slumped into his rival, his friend. "I'm sorry Ned, so sorry."

"Whew! Never seen you so jumpy before." The taller man relaxed his grip and bobbed his head out beyond the railing of the Queen Cersei at the distant beach perched below Lordsport, full of the longships that had escaped the disaster off of Fair Isle. "And the battle hasn't even started yet," Ned pointed out.

"Soon though," came an affected Westerland voice from a good looking, long blond haired man standing beside the wildling. "We were just talking about it, weren't we, eh Badger?" asked Gerion Lannister. "I say Lord Stark, that looks rather a nasty scrape. You should have it looked over, what? Wouldn't do for you to bleed out before giving those nasty marauders a sporting chance at you with axe, sword, or harpoon. Be a good chap and let me help you."

Ned raised a hand to check the gash and it came away bloody. Still the concern on his face was evidently for Lohgun. "Will you be alright?" he asked the Badger sincerely.

"Gods … yes. I'll … I'll be fine. Go get that stitched up. Go. Go!" the Badger rattled on.

"Yes, Nan," Ned chortled. "And if Cat ever asks me where I got this scar, I'll blame it on the Ironborn."

Something inside Lohgun shriveled up and died.

The Seven Kingdom's war galleys had lined up beyond the shooting distance of the Lordsport catapults in an arc that covered the beach. The horns of the arc were thicker than the middle for it was on either end of the beach that the transports would try to get in close to begin unloading troops. Paxter Redwyne commanded the left horn from his Bloodwine. King Robert commanded the right from the Queen Cersei. And to no one's surprise the Iron Men were not going to allow the landing to happen without a brawl.

Sixty longships broke from shore surging against the incoming high tide, all of them, again not surprisingly, pointed toward the King's banner; the giant sized crowned black stag on a field of gold flying high over the Queen Cersei.

Robert pounded the heavy weight of his hammer into a meaty palm. "Bah, let the krakens come for me. Just more of 'em for me to crush, eh Ned?" the Stag said cheerily.

The Lord of Winterfell chuckled, "Leave a few for me, your Grace."

"Ice'll drink deep today, never you fear."

"It's not me that has to worry," Ned replied as he pointed the Valyrian blade out toward the oncoming rebels, causing his friend to laugh gaily.

Standing beside the Badger, Gerion Lannister whispered in his ear. "The King's an amusing enough drinking companion, but I thought his whole war loving thing a bit of an act. Is he really so bloodthirsty?"

The wildling snickered. "You have no idea bub, no idea."

"Hhhmmmn, quite."

"Fire!" screamed the Queen Cersei's captain. Thump. Thump. Thump. Onagers on board and on nearby ships released their stored up tension, slings flung forward shooting heavy stones and flammable projectiles at the incoming band of marauders.

The right horn held approximately the same number of ships as the Ironborn charged at them with. For a half an hour the right horn slowly back oared, giving the cogs, galleons, and caravels of the transport fleet the necessary time to tack back out to sea or run away parallel to the shoreline before the wind. The tactic also allowed the one hundred and twenty war ships of the middle and left horn to beat to quarters and aim to take the remnants of the Iron Fleet in its rear and flank.

At last the order was given and the right horn surged back forward to meet the leading ships of the rebel's wedge shaped formation. All except for the Queen Cersei, which held the tempting target of the King, it kept slowly backing up, trying to entice the Ironborn to break formation in pursuit of the Great Stag.

"Sea battles take too blasted long," Robert grumbled.

"Patience," said Ned evenly.

"Patience?! When they're still all the way over there," he complained, taking several steps towards the railing in the direction of the enemy. Instantly three Kingsguard in their white cloaks swarmed in front of the King. Jaime Lannister, Mandon Moore, and Boros Blount placing their own bodies in the way of any projectiles that might fly toward their sovereign.

Thirty longships were already sunk, sinking, or too badly holed or burning to make way before three ships finally broke through the last war galleys screening the Queen Cersei. The rest of the Iron Fleet was strung out behind them in a scraggily formation, each engaged and fighting for its life but without help from any of its mates. Paxter Redwyne's flotilla had crossed the length of the bay to bottle up the rear. None of the longships would make it back to the beach on Pyke; victory was now certain. The only question was how much damage would the Royal and Arbor fleets sustain.

The Oar Maester shouted an order and the beat on the Bosun's Drum hammered out the command for ramming speed. Lohgun felt a breeze pass inside his helm as the war galley picked up speed. The helmsman set the wheel for the middle of the approaching longships. The Oar Maester blew his shrill whistle to slip oars.

"Brace!" the captain cried.

The ship shuddered and almost instantly slammed to a stop. Crash! Lohgun and every fighter around him staggered, many pitching over. Timber flew in the air from the hole the Queen Cersei's immense steel cock punched into the bow of the longship.

Snapsnapsnapsnapnapsnapsnap! Snapsnapsnapsnapnapsnapsnap!

Many of the triple banked oars weren't yanked back inside the hull quick enough and the other two long ships passing mere feet from the Queen Cersei on either side sheared off exposed sculls. More than a few rowers died as damaged or destroyed oars exploded back through the rowlocks, shards of wood splintering into hands, arms, chests, and faces.

"Boarders ware!"

Arrows peppered the air from both sides. Then grappling hooks arced out from the Silence and from the Iron Victory to land on men, the deck, and the railing; drawing both longships into a deadly embrace with the war galley. Knifes, axes, and swords chopped down on the ropes attached to the hooks, but the top few feet were sheathed in coils of hard iron and only a handful split before berserk Ironmen started surging over the bulwark.

Lohgun chopped off the fingers of a hand clinging to the rail. A high pitched squeal and then a splash greeted his maneuver. The man next to him took a flung axe to the chest and he staggered into the Badger. A bull chested rebel leapt over the rail and rammed into the wildling, dropping him to the deck. A foot kicked him in the face, the crunch and pain told Lohgun his nose was broken. He lashed up with his katana, slicing the bastards thigh. A sword stabbed down, pinning his right arm to the deck. The left, holding the wakizashi, slashed up and the two hundred plus pound castrated bull dropped atop him.

Kicking and slashing, the Badger forced himself back to his feet on the poop deck. Robert wailed around him with his hammer. Ice lopped off hands, arms, legs, and heads. The Kingslayer's sword arm moved almost too fast for the eye to follow in piercing through mail shirts, necks, and faces. Mandon Moore, face as emotionless as any Maester from the Citadel, dropped foes left and right. Slowly a solid perimeter formed and no more marauders tried to board near the King. But down on the main deck, more and more Ironborn swarmed over the sides, pushing and shoving the defenders into disorganized jumbles.

"Wedge!" roared the Stag. "Form on me! Form on me! Ned, you lead down the right stairs. I'm taking the left one! Form up! Form up! Come on you whoresons, men are dying!"

Ned pushed his way through the chaos to the top of the right hand stairs. Lohgun kept a hand on his friend's back and bustled right behind him. Men started closing up behind them, making a solid column. The wildling looked to his left. Gerion Lannister smiled down at the short killer. Lohgun nodded back at him and then looked right, into the sun. Catelyn stood next to him. "We can be together forever my love," she said. Lohgun blinked hard in disbelief. When he opened his eyes he saw a man-at-arms wearing a surcoat with the Baratheon sigil staring ahead with deadly intent. Then the wedge started off, stomping down the stairs.

"Winterfell!" yelled Ned.

"Winterfell! the Badger hollered.

They smashed into the Ironborn who fell before them like a farmer scythes his wheat. The Badger opened all his senses, getting a feel for the flow of the fight, judging the skill of the enemy, sniffing out the danger points. Sticking tight to Ned's back Lohgun stabbed out at any man lucky enough to step inside his lord's guard. Gerion slew men on the left, and the man-at-arms did yeoman work to the right. He noticed briefly on the other side of the deck that Robert crushed, shattered, and tossed aside every man who stood in front of him.

Something, something. Lohgun yanked back hard on Ned, pulling him back off his feet. A harpoon flew in at an angle, passing through where Ned had stood, clipping the very tip of his nose before burying itself in the neck of the man-at-arms to his side. The wildling pushed his friend back up, all the while watching the dying man he never knew crumple to the deck. He stared in fascination as the man's lips wobbled and blood frothed up on them. With his last breath he choked out, "We can still be together."

'Nononononononononono,' echoed through his mind. Madness se

ized him. "Noooooooo!" he screamed. The Badger jumped forward, even with Ned, lashing out wildly with both his curved blades. Ironmen nicked him, cut him, punched him, stabbed him, he felt none of it. Pain meant nothing. In a minute the mass of rebels in front of him broke from fear of his berserk fury.

Only two men remained standing in front of him. Both tall, powerful, and thick of chest. One wore full plate armor with a kraken shaped helm, and carried a wide bladed spear. The other one, older and sporting a hideous face split by a scar that turned his two lips into four, hefted two axes.

"Shall I kill him, Victarion?" lisped the ugly one.

(blockbuster)

"No, Dagmer," ordered the spear holder. "We'll kill him together!"

(harpoon)

"Together," agreed Ned, stepping forward to join the imminent melee.

Swords, axes, and a spear slashed through the air, rebounding off each other or missing or earning a payment in flesh. They circled and spun. The nearby Iron Men and mainland born both stood back in awe, by unspoken agreement, to watch the whirling, masters of death cut and stab at each other. Lohgun parried an axes strike and lashed out with a foot to take the ogre's knee, only to strike a meaty thigh as the brute swayed in anticipation of the attack. For a fraction of a moment the Badger and the Direwolf stood back to back and then sweeping attacks made them both dodge aside.

Victarion contemptuously slapped the back of Lohgun's katana as it swept past and then raised his spear high, as if intending to throw it. The Greyjoy faked, faked, and faked with it again, each time causing the Badger to jitter slightly in anticipation of the strike.

"Do it!" he snarled. "I'll gut you!"

"You? What about him?"

The wildling blinked in confusion.

The spear arched back and then launched forward with all the Iron Man's strength.

The angle was wrong. Instinctively he knew the spear would speed past him a foot to the side. 'Ned!' Lohgun dove into the path of the flying shaft.

"Unnghhhj!" he grunted in pain as the blade sliced through a kidney.

The momentum from his leap and the strength of the blow dropped him skidding to the deck.

"Whuph!" erupted out of Ned as his friend's stout, compact body swept his legs from under him.

From his back the Badger looked upside down as a shout of triumph split Dagmer Cleftjaw's four lips. The ogre stomped forward, axe raising high. Gasps and cries of glee burst from the lips of the amazed onlookers.

The wakizashi stabbed out just above deck level, the point smashing straight in on the marauder's ankle. Snap! The tips of the man's leg bones broke. His axe arm wobbled in the air as Dagmer stumbled, lowering his head and crouching his body to try and regain his balance.

Lohgun screamed in agony as he stretched his body to its fullest, the blade stuck inside his belly turning with him, slicing him more. The katana slashed up, finding the gap between the bottom of the brute's helm and the top of his mail gorget, driving into the soft tissue where the jaw met the throat.

A choking sound escaped the Cleftjaw and then he fell.