I do not own or claim to own any of GRRM's works, nor am I profiting off this story

We are back, my friends and family still think I need therapy but luckily you guys are as weird as I am and totally accepting of semi-incestuous relationships!


Chapter 7- Faces new, stories old

Jagare woke in the early morning to the sound of birdsong, soft breathing, and a horse nickering quietly. His head pounded slightly from the whisky, and he was vaguely aware of the stinging sensation around his chest but was more focused on Lyanna, her arms wrapped around him and her head resting over his heart. He drew in a quiet sharp breath as he remembered the previous night. The revelations that had been unmasked and the spontaneous, swift, yet sweet kiss they had shared. The event raced through Jagare's mind, but unlike the night before, and come to think of it all of those years they had shared, there was no voice telling him no. No inhibitions. Nothing telling him to hold back. Instead, a warm feeling fluttered through him. The feeling of freedom. He looked around and gazed at the endless expanse of trees and hills around them. It caused his heart to race, and Lyanna's eyes fluttered open.

"Hi" murmured Jagare, his lips trying to form more words, but none came. She smiled up at him and the pounding in his chest stopped. He smiled back and pulled her closer to him, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. She snuggled her head into the centre of his chest and her slightly muffled voice filled his ears.

"Morning Jagare." He knew, at that moment, that everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to be all right.

"So…is this happening then. Truly happening." He wasn't looking at her, but he felt Lyanna's head move on his chest, looking up at him.

"We both felt it last night. To be honest, I think we've both felt it for a long time, we were just never able to act on it." She pulled herself closer to him and he felt his heartbeat quicken again. "But it seems as if fate is acting for us here, and who are we to deny fate." Jagare had no words for that, so simply smiled to himself and lay there for a while, enjoying the warmth radiating off Lyanna's body. After a while, after too much reluctance on both parts, they decided that they needed to start moving again. They were half a day's ride from Ironwrath, the castle of House Forrester, bannermen to the Glovers. That was dangerous, and there had been enough time for word to spread to the furthest corners of the North. Everyone would be on the lookout now, and the Forresters were no exception.

Lyanna had wanted to stay well clear of the small villages dotted around the forest, but they sorely needed to restock certain supplies. Fresh water was easy enough from the streams and pools that littered the North, but bread, salted meat and other such foods were running low. So they found their way back to the main track through the Wolfswood, and soon found such a village, a few day's ride from Deepwood Motte. They led the horses into the village to not attract too much attention, but with the amount of travellers that come through, he thought they would notice little. Lyanna traded some of their coin for flint, hard cheese, salted beef as well as a few apples for the horses.

Meanwhile, Jagare had found a woodworking shop, where Ironwood was on show in every different variety. Models, bows, arrows, carvings, staffs, and shields were piled high on display. Jagare studied a particularly sturdy kite shield while the seller droned on about the qualities of Ironwood. Jagare knew about its properties well enough but listened so as to not insult the vendor. Ironwood was a tree exclusive to the North, the only groves being found in the forests north of the neck. There were also several in the far east of Essos, but in Westeros, the North was the only supplier. One of the strongest lumber sources in the known world, it could be made into the sturdiest and most enduring shields, ships and handles to be found. As such it was prized by the North yet wasn't traded as much as it could have been.

Eventually, he decided to take the shield. The night before had shown him that even the decent warriors they were, the more protection they had the better. And partnered with his axe, it could be invaluable. The shield was shaped like a kite and banded with heavy steel. Very heavy in fact, but the seller assured him it would splinter for nothing. An old phrase echoed through his head, something he had once heard Connie say. 'Oak and iron guard me well, or else I'm dead and doomed for hell'. He supposed it had some measure of truth to it. Jagare had just paid the salesmen for the shield when he found Lyanna striding towards him with a confident smirk on her face. Behind her were two men, one old and weathered, the other a few years older than Jagare. Both wore riding leathers and bows slung over their backs and knives at their belts.

"We don't have an infinite amount of silver you know," she remarked as he slung the shield onto his back, the straps sitting comfortably over his shoulders.

"And I do believe that if we are ever under a storm of arrows, you might be grateful for it."

"Can't put a price on good defence milady" stated the younger of the two men. He had sharp features, tall and wiry with dull-coloured straw hair and a broken nose.

"See. He gets it. Going to introduce me?"

"Aye, I suppose you're right" she huffed, then turned to the two men. "These two kind gentlemen are riders sworn to House Forrester, I think they can help us." Jagare's eye twitched, but he fought against the urge to glare at Lyanna. What was she thinking?! Instead, he turned his eye to the older man who cleared his throat.

"If I may good sir, we've been told to bring messages t'll the hovels from ere to Deepwoode Motte. Ironborn raiders have been sighted often of late as I'm sure you'll know, an they are to be warned to be on their guards while the raiders are scourged out by the men-at-arms." He turned to Lyanna with a slight bow. "After the lady here spoke in passing of your encounter, we proposed an offer." Jagare raised an eyebrow and spoke.

"And what could we offer each other?" The old man smiled warmly at him.

"I'm not the fighter I used to be, an we can only hold off so many raiders at once if we get attacked. If you would be willing to join our party as protection, we would be willing to show you the fastest ways to Deepwoode Motte known only to us foresters." Lyanna's hand found his and she smiled at him.

"It would cut out time to get there in half if we knew where we were going, and raiding parties are much less likely to attack a larger group." Jagare nodded but turned his eye back on the two men.

"Pray tell why you have no fighting men of your own, surely House Forrester would not want their riders unprotected." The younger man scowled at his older companion.

"Damn right we should. Most of the men are already out trying to purge the woods of the raiders, and those that aren't are looking for some runaway highborn." The older man shrugged and Jagare felt a small heat rise in his neck. He really hoped that Lyanna realised that by attracting these two men, she might have put them in serious danger. He broke the silence with a cough and nodded toward the two of them.

"Very well, sounds like a good deal. When do we depart?" The older man stuck his hand out and Jagare took it. "On the morrow, it a pleasure doing business with you. The names Raymond by the way, and this is Root." He pointed to the younger man who inclined his head sullenly.

"Good that then" spoke Lyanna who looped her arm through Jagare's and lead him back towards where they had roped the horses.

"You did well there Lya, how'd you find them." She smiled innocently and tapped her head.

"Oh, just my own charm and intuition. I heard them discussing the topic with another man and I told him that we would be up for joining as well." He sighed. Great, another man that could expose them. He stopped at looked at her gravely.

"Did you not think that attracting sworn men would endanger us? You heard them say they're looking for highborns. They know things that other smallfolk don't" She swung herself up onto the horse and rolled her eyes.

"Jagare, you look like any other Northern traveller and sound like one as well. As for me, no commoner would believe that a highborn lady is camping out in the mud under the stars. They're looking for someone in a ripped dress and no clue how to survive out here." She raised her eyebrow. "Do I look like that to you?" Jagare felt himself flush slightly and looked away sheepishly.

"No…you look like a Northern warrior. A beautiful one." She smirked at him.

"That's more like it." She then turned in her saddle and gazed into the setting sun. "Come, there is a nice clearing a bit west of here we can camp for the night." Her face was illuminated in the light, and Jagare appreciated how lovely she looked in the light. She grinned at him and indicated her head.

"You can stare at me as much as you want after we get camp set up, ok?" Jagare mounted his horse and grinned back.

"Aye, milady." They slept entwined in each other's arms like the night before, but more prepared and comfortable. It was only now that Jagare realised how cold he had been on the previous nights, but with Lyanna's warm body pressed up against his own, that problem was solved. There was a small unspoken tension about if they were going to truly sleep that night or do…other things. Luckily, Lyanna had broken the tension by simply stating in the nighttime silence that she didn't want their first time together to be cold and rushed in the woods, and Jagare had agreed. Besides, things were still new, and for now, simply being able to embrace her as they were…that was good enough for him.

The next morning, they met with Raymond and Root beyond the village, both pouring over a map and speaking in short mutters. They were joined by another man, slightly younger than Lyanna and himself. He was broader rather than tall, a normal trait for Northmen. Short-cut waxen hair, large brown eyes, and a babyish easy smiling face. He had a grin as they rode up to him.

"Names Tommo, Tommo Locke." He shook both of their hands enthusiastically then looked at them expectantly. They had discussed this last night. Apparently, Lyanna had given the two riders a fake name the day before, so he had some fun coming up with one for himself.

"I'm Lawrence Smoke, this here is Lanna Rye." The names weren't that creative, but smallfolk were named all sorts of odd things, so it seemed suitable.

"Locke? Aren't your family Lords of Oldcastle, bannerman to House Manderly?" Jagare hid his glare at Lyanna, again. Commoners were not supposed to know about the smaller lords and ladies of the realm in their general knowledge. Luckily, Tommo seemed none the wiser to the deeper aspects of the questions. He grinned at them and gave a small bow from atop his horse.

"Aye, you would be right there. But my father is the youngest of three brothers, and I am the youngest of my own three, just turned six and ten a few moons ago. The Oldcastle was simply not big enough for me, and I didn't particularly fancy life up on the wall, like the comfort of women a bit too much, no offence to yourself milady." Lyanna chuckled and shook her head.

"None taken." The two riders chose that moment to beckon them over and point out the route they would take. The party started to ride out as Tommo kept on talking about his life. He talked a lot.

"It's not that my family don't love me of course. I was very close with my grandfather. Used to tell the best stories he did. And my uncle said I would always have a temporary place to stay if needed, and a resupply of food and gear, but until I proved good enough to fill a position in the castle that warranted a bed, I was not to be hanging around. So, I said I'd go and earn my way myself for a while, you know, get some experience. Become a sellsword of sorts, except slightly more honourable, and I only need enough money to see me to the next destination. Bit of an adventure really! Yes, I'm content to ride around the North offering my services wherever they are needed, even if it's just to help move a waggon. The wild suits me a little better as well, Oldcastle was nice and all but so quiet. All the trade went up the shore to White Harbour so nothing interesting ever came our way. But sleeping with the stars above me and the warmth of a wood fire, that's what I was made for."

Jagare found himself building great respect for the young man. He asked for little and gave lots in return, preferring a life of adventure and excitement whilst also fulfilling his duty as the son of a lord and helping out the common folk. There was also some slight jealousy. Tommo's family supported his adventure, even offering supplies and encouraging him. Lyanna said exactly what Jagare was thinking.

"I think that more highborns should take a few pages from your book, most of them are stuck-up cunts who can barely see past the edge of their feast table." Jagare smiled at her antics, Raymond, and Root chuckling nervously whilst Tommo laughed outright.

"Aye, I suppose you would be right there. My other Uncle, a nasty piece of work. Nearly got himself beheaded by Lord Manderly after threatening to gut him for not placing him at the head table at once feast!" He chuckled at the slightly morbid thought. "But enough about me, I already know about those two fellas" he indicated to the riders who had ridden a few paces ahead and were conversing in low tones. "But I don't know about you two. What's your story?" They looked at each other for a moment before Jagare spoke.

"We grew up in a village outside of Barrowtown, our parents wanted to decide our futures, but we wanted adventure." Lyanna grinned.

"And they wanted to keep us apart, wasn't going to let that happen." Tommo laughed and gave a nod of respect.

"Fair enough, the call of adventure takes us all in the end, ain't no stopping her. I myself want to travel as much as possible before I grow old. When my legs give way from walking, my arm from fighting, and my cock, from, well…"

"Charming Jagare" muttered dryly as Lyanna exploded into giggles.

For the next few days, they rode through dense thickets, along thin streams and through long gaps in the trees. The riders had planned their journey so that every day one of them would dart off for an hour to the nearest hamlet and then catch up with their trail. Jagare was amazed at how well they knew the forest and how well they could track the horses.

"Both of us grew up here laddie, we know this place better than almost anyone," Raymond told him after he asked one night around the fire. "These woods hold paths and trails known only to the beasts that live within. You go in the Wolfswood without any idea of direction, you don't come back out. It's one of the reasons that the North is so damn hard to be invaded by those southern fuckers. Me old pa used to tell me, The Neck's all well and good, for keeping them out from the south, but what if they sail up through the west? Well, they can't get inland without passing through the Wolfswood, and that's where we get em. Hit their camps when they sleep, lead em to the wolves." The old man chuckled darkly. "Good bloody luck navigating this forest with a bunch of angry northerners sweeping through the trees." He knew. Jagare knew. And Jagare couldn't help himself.

"Aye, your father was right" Jagare grinned, his mind already deep back into his history books. "Thousands of years ago, when the northern Riverlords tried to expand their terrain into the neck, they decided to ally themselves with some of the Iron Islands. The Ironborn shipped half of the Riverlander forces past the Neck to land in the Rills, the Stoney Shore, and Sea Dragon Point. They thought that with the Starks sending all their forces to defend The Neck, they could breeze through the Wolfswood and attack the Starks from two sides with superior forces." He paused for breath without registering the silence around him, nor the soft flick Lyanna gave him. "Not only did they underestimate The Neck, but they also underestimated the Wolfswood. When the forces marched inland, they found nothing but abandoned villages and tightly locked Strongholds. The Starks didn't even bother sending additional forces west, simply reinforcing Moat Cailin, and waiting out the siege while the troops starved and drowned themselves. The troops that marched into the Wolfswood were torn apart by the forces of House Glover, the wolves, and the cold. They marched into the Wolfswood to try and take Deepwoode Motte and then strike at Winterfell, but their entire force was never seen again." He had a smile on his face as he finished. He looked up at the group and saw both surprise and worry on Lyanna's face. Tommo's was shining like a little boy's who had just been told the greatest story of all time, while the riders were looking at him curiously.

"Where did you learn that…" asked Root, his voice plain with a touch of accusation. Jagare quickly searched for a story,

"Uhhhh, heard it in a tavern someone where I suppose." It was a bad excuse. The only one who seemed convinced was Tommo, his joyous manner livening up the campfire once more.

"Bloody hell, that's one heck of a story Jagare. Oh, I do love a good Northern war story around the fire. Go on tell us another!" But not wanting to show any more of his highborn knowledge, Jagare waved him away with the excuse of being tired. He and Lyanna settled down into their furs, Lyanna's silence burning with many questions, but not being able to ask them for the risk of the others overhearing. Instead, she pressed a long kiss to his lips and settled down into their usual position of her head on his chest and his arms wrapped around her. While she fell asleep, he thought only about what a fucking idiot he had been. They would have to be their guard now, only a highborn could have known a story like that in such accurate detail, only someone with access to books. Regardless of the danger, Jagare had potentially put themselves in, he drifted off to sleep thinking of Northern warriors tearing Ironborn and Riverlanders alike to pieces within these woods.

A few days later, the party reached Deepwoode Motte. Immediately Jagare felt a sense of nervousness creep over him, more than usual. This place would be even more dangerous than Barrowtown had been. Not only were the Glovers extremely loyal to the Starks, but Jagare had knocked out their heir Lothar in the Godswood. The North remembered, and so would the Glovers. As much as Lyanna would have liked to simply grab a boat and leave as soon as possible, they needed to wait and find out some information about the state of the North. Luckily, they had an easy way to disguise themselves, or at least draw the attention away from them and onto someone else. As soon as they had crossed into the castle's town, Root and Raymond had left them promptly, with little more than a mumble and a nod. However, Tommo had decided that he would stick with them for the time being.

"Gotta tell ya" spoke the bouncing youth as they entered the nearest tavern "I truly believe that if we stick together, the adventure will come fast our way."

"Yes, I do believe you are correct," remarked Jagare in a grey tone, sharing a worried glance with Lyanna.

"So, what's your plan? Where will you go next?" He promptly forgot his questions and turned to have a conversation with the barman. Jagare and Lyanna exchanged another look as they sat down in the booth that had been pointed out for them.

"He's doing a bloody good job of drawing the attention away from us" Lyanna chuckled as she threw her legs up onto the table and sighed. "Been a while since we had a warm meal. Too bad we can't stay the night in a bed." Jagare raised an eyebrow.

"Now who's squandering our gold." She stuck her tongue out at him and he grinned. "We'll hopefully get a hammock on the ship, that's the best I can give you." She took her feet off the table and leaned in towards him, her dark hair falling across her shoulders.

"So that's our plan then, off to Bear Island. Ain't gonna be many fans of us there Jagare."

"No there isn't, but there won't be any ships going south from here, the docks are not open to trade, so they all go to Bear Island." He was about to continue but Tommo came striding across the room with three tankards in his hands.

"Finest ale in the wolfswood the man swears, dunno bout that, I had one at the foot of Mount Harclay that warmed me to my core." A dreamy look came over his face but then he sniggered and nudged Jagare's arm. "Not the only thing that warmed me that night, I tell you, those mountain girls know all the tricks to keep warm." He took a long swig whilst Jagare was going increasingly red, and Lyanna looked like she was dying with contained laughter. "This one girl, she did a thing with her leg where-"

"Enough!" Jagare exclaimed as Lyanna burst into laughter, and even Jagare had to admit that their journey would not grow dull again with Tommo with them.

"So, where's the next stop then, we heading north to the mountains or south to the Rills?" Lyanna glanced at Jagare, both of them sharing the same thought, and after a moment he nodded at her.

"We're taking a ship to Bear Island" she spoke softly. "And from there, we're heading south along the sunset sea. Away from the North." Part of Jagare had expected Tommo's fixed smile to falter, but he was as cheerful as always.

"Brilliant! Don't get me wrong" he assured them. "I love the North and all, but there are places I wanna go, things I wanna see, southerners I wanna fight." A smirk came over his face as he looked at Jagare. "…girls I want to-"

"Anyway," Jagare stated as Lyanna threatened to collapse from laughter again. "We don't plan on staying here for long, just enough to get some news on the state of the North and then- "

"Well, you should have said so!" he boomed. "Say no more my friend." Tommo stood up taking another swig. "One of my many special talents includes the procuring of information from fellas who don't wanna give it." He frowned. "That came out much more Boltony than intended." He shrugged and moved back to the bar, instantly starting a conversation with a bearded man half collapsed on the wooden surface. Jagare shook his head.

"How on earth has he lasted this long?" he wondered aloud. Lyanna stuck her feet back on the table and gazed at him.

"I think his pure cheeriness is what keeps himself safe. Who could hurt someone so full of life?" Jagare had a thought of a bloody Jon Stark standing over Tommo's near-dead corpse and grunted softly.

"I dunno. I could think of a few." Lyanna's gaze turned back to him and became sad.

"Aye, I suppose your right." She pushed herself closer to Jagare and leaned her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, and they sat there for a while, simply listening to the fire crackle and the commoners talk cheerfully. A short while later, Tommo came back, followed by a young serving woman holding three dishes of stew, a loaf of bread and some butter. She left them on the table and Tommo whispered something into her ear before he sat down, causing her to giggle. He had a grin on his face before looking at Jagare and becoming serious.

"Right" he spoke as he ripped off some of the bread and dunked it in the stew "Turns out a shit ton has happened since I caught up with the local news. I've been spending my recent days in the mountains and haven't heard much, so there is a lot to talk about." Jagare exchanged a dark look with Lyanna.

"Go on." She spoke.

"Well," he swallowed a mouthful of stew. "You two know about the great Northern feud don't you." 'You have no fucking idea' Jagare thought, but instead, he played dumb.

"No, why what is it." It should have been rare for someone to not know at least something about the feud but if Tommo suspected anything he didn't show it.

"Yeah, well it's simple enough really." He took out his knife and sawed the bread in half, slamming the knife down, the sharp edge pointing towards him. He pointed at the right side and spoke. "Well imagine this is the east side of the North, right? White Harbour, Boltons, lots of plains and hills." He pointed to the left one. "And this is the west, where we are. Wolfswood, Mountains and Rills, okay?" They both nodded. "And this" he pointed at the knife "Is the Starks." He paused. "Now the Bread hates each other, right? Feud over which is better, Barely or Rye." Jagare smiled softly, how was he able to build humour into everything? "And the knife, see is in the centre. The only problem is, each bit of bread wants the knife to cut up the other part, leaving them the biggest bit." He slurped some more of his stew. "But the knife wants them to stay the same, equal, yet still depending on him to not cut them up. The only problem is the knife has its own agenda." He looked at them mock threat as he picked up the knife and pulled some butter towards him. "Now, the knife can be used to butter the bread." He picked up the left bread and began buttering it. "But it can also be used to chop." He suddenly slammed the knife down into the right bread, causing them both to jump. He then pulled out the knife and cleaned it on his leathers before sticking it back in its sheath and stuck his arms wide. It was only at this point that Jagare realised he was waiting for applause.

"You told us, precisely nothing about the state of the affairs in the North" groaned Lyanna as she struggled to hold in her laughter. Jagare bought his hand to his face for a moment and rubbed his brow, sighing heavily before looking back at Tommo who was busying himself with his stew again.

"Would you mind telling us, something relevant about the North!" Jagare exclaimed, but his own slight sense of humour was being triggered. As if coming to a stunning realisation, Tommo slapped down his drink and near yelled.

"YES! I was getting to that part." His face turned solemn then, truly solemn, and Jagare listened closely. "There was a gathering recently. A harvest feast, of all the Lords in the North, even the ones that hate each other. Like the Karstarks and the Dustins see. Some old things about a bastard child, someone fucked someone in the night blah blah. Anyway, the King wanted to appease both sides of the North, so he betrothed his daughter to the Glovers and then made Lord Karstark his right-hand man, second most powerful in the North and he speaks with the king's voice now." He took a swig out of his tankard. "That would have been the end of it, but then the newly appointed hand's daughter disappeared." He nodded gravely. "Ran away with some bastard boy apparently, very poetic. Now obviously the girl's father was pissed, but it wouldn't be that much of a problem for the North if it wasn't for the fact that the girl was betrothed to the crown prince!" At those words, Jagare felt Lyanna's hand close around his wrist tightly and her breath catch. That was news. Is that what the bargain had also been for her father to be hand? His head and her hand, both going to Jon Stark. Not noticing their discomfort, Tommo continued.

"Anyway, the Crown Prince was beside himself with rage, apparently the bastard had wronged him in some way, which I guess makes sense he did steal his intended. But what was strange was that he took it out on the new King's hand. Yeah, called him a traitor and schemer for not holding up his end of the bargain, was convinced that the girl had run back to Karhold and wed some other Northern Lord to strengthen ties against the Starks. Well, that provoked some of the prince's staunchest supporters to get involved which then triggered the Karstarks supporters to get involved. Apparently, Lord Bolton stabbed the Lord of Torrhens Square in the hand with the butter knife!" Tommo chuckled slightly but Jagare and Lyanna were listening with rapt attention at this point.

"Anyway, the King stood up to try and calm the fray, but a stray goblet was thrown and hit him in the head. That didn't do much damage, but he then slipped and fell. Injured himself. Well after he was confined to his chambers, the young prince took charge. He banished all of the Eastern Lords from the castle and his first task for Lord Karstark was to go up to the Wall to oversee the rumours of increased Wildling attacks, promptly removing the court of anyone who would stand against him." He shrugged and finished off his tankard. "Ingenious if you think about it." Jagare was silent for a few moments, letting all the information sink in. It looked like the North was more divided than ever, and with Jon Stark at the helm, there would be no repairing that.

"How do you know all of this" asked Lyanna softly. Tommo perked up again and pointed over to the bar.

"Well funny you should mention that. The man over there passed out in his tankard is the young Lothar Glover, heir to Deepwoode Motte. He was there at the centre of it apparently. After I told him that I was technically highborn, he spilt it all. Very in his cups, he was." Jagare felt his blood freeze and cricked his neck turning to look at the bar, where indeed, on what looked like his sixth drink was the tall, pointed figure of Lothar Glover.

"We need to move" whispered Jagare, and immediately Lyanna slipped to her feet and stood.

"Wait, where are you going?" Tommo asked them. He ignored him and headed for the door. "Was it something I said?" The tavern was crowded now, and no one noticed them slip out of the building. The cold night air exploded over the pair of them as they nearly crashed through the door, immediately Jagare saw three men coming towards them from what looked like a blacksmith. They had been waiting for them to leave. Jagare looked down and cursed, almost all of the weapons they had left back with the horses in the stables. If they went in there they would be cornered.

"Down here" muttered Lyanna, who grabbed Jagare's hand and dragged him down the road, but two men stepped out from behind a well. Jagare recognised their faces.

"You were not very subtle I must say" spoke Raymond, his beard near quivering with excitement. Jagare could only imagine the gold reward for handing them in. "No, it took little brains to figure out who you two really were. Amazing luck when you approached us my dear" he nodded at Lyanna. "I had my suspicions then but couldn't confirm until you said that wonderful story of our great realms history. Only a child raised in a castle could know such tales in that much depth. And of course...your fake names were fucking awful." Root was smiling manically, and he drew a small knife.

"Come quietly, and no one gets hurt." His voice sounded hoarse and rusty. "We're not supposed to kill you, but don't matter if you cut up a bit. We still get the gold." Jagare growled and made to turn but the three men behind them had gotten closer. Jagare could see the swords and dirks at their sides, and they wore boiled leather and chainmail. These were actual fighting men. Jagare cursed and drew his knife, handing it to Lyanna who clasped it fiercely while Jagare balled up his fists ready to go down swinging. The three Glover men approached them and the lead one grunted at them.

"You're fucked now, traitor." They drew their swords and laughed coldly. But then his laughter turned into a dull 'oh' as the flat of a blade hit the back of his head. He collapsed to reveal the form of Tommo, sword drawn and a look of excited fury in his eyes.

"Catch!" He yelled and carefully threw Jagare's axe towards him which he caught and immediately parried the blade of one of the other men. He made a wild swing followed by a feint to give himself a moment to look around. Tommo had engaged the other swordsman, blades flashing in the moonlight, while Lyanna had picked up the sword of the fallen men and was keeping the two riders at bay with wild swings, both of whom looked murderous now that their easy prize was fighting back. Jagare was jarred back to the present when his opponent aimed a swing at his stomach. Almost effortlessly, Jagare grasped the axe by its handle and head and caught the blade. A decent swordsman would have known to pull out of the trap, but the man pressed forward. It was almost too easy to bring the blade down to the hilt and twist hard, disarming the man who looked shocked for a moment before Jagare slammed the butt of the axe into his face, making him crumple.

He looked around and saw Tommo's opponent cry in pain from a cut to his thigh and collapse. Lyanna was still keeping the two riders at sword's length when he and Tommo turned towards them. Jagare felt a fire in his eyes and the adrenaline was pumping around his body.

"And they said there was honour in the North." He spat at the two men. Idiotically, Root yelled and jumped at Jagare, his dagger high. He reacted instantly, bringing the axe in a wide arc, hacking straight through Root's chest and he fell to a heap. The axe got stuck halfway in, and as Jagare yanked it out, the man gave a feeble cough and then lay still. Almost instantaneously, Lyanna stepped forward and bought the pommel of her sword down on Raymond's head. He crumpled much like the first man. The night's air was full of soft moans of the broken men, but Jagare was still staring down at the man he had killed, the blood oozing from the deep wound his axe had inflicted. The silence was broken by a shaky laugh.

"Well…I should think the both of you have some explaining to do." They turned to look at Tommo, his smile still on his face, but with nervous and slightly distrusting undertones.

"Aye, I suppose we do" muttered Jagare, a shaky smile of his own coming across his face.

"Can we tell you while we ride?" Lyanna winced; her hair strewn across her face.

"Sure" Tommo muttered, turning back towards the stables. "Come on, I know where we should go. Looks like we're stuck together now...for better or for worst."


New character yayyyyy. Tommo will be sticking around for a while as well.

As always, feel free to comment!

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