AN: Been on a bit of a break due to RL stuff. But back now with a new chapter. For those who follow my other PJO/GoT story, Last King, I've started working on the next chapter. So that should be out in the next week or two.
Other than that, hope you enjoy and please leave a review etc. If you have any questions or suggestions, please feel free to PM me.
Another thing while I am at it, is this. I am a part of a discord group, there are tons of others there, plenty of writers, admittedly mainly PJO, but other stuff too, including a growing number of other writers. Feel free to pop along and say hi, I'm always happy to chat about the stuff I am writing. So if you fancy it please do join by sticking this: discord .gg / elibrary into discord, with no spaces, or using the link on my bio.
Thanks for reading and please do leave a review, or feel free to PM, I am usually much better at answering those!
This chapter has been betaed by Silver, who is a member of the Discord I'm also a part of.
Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.
( - )
(Last Time)
Stepping past him as he slumped to the floor, Nico didn't even glance at the three dead men as he instead scooped Pia up into his arms.
The moment he drew close to her she threw herself at him, not caring of the blood or what she had just seen as she instead clung to him like a limpet and cried into his shoulder.
Sparing the three bodies a glance as he headed for the exit, Nico paused only long enough to stamp his foot and use a bit of geokinesis to pull the three dead bodies beneath the earth, before he headed out and into the night air again. His voice was low as he muttered comforting things into Pia's ear, even as he headed straight for her father's house.
The only thing that mattered to him at that moment, was getting Pia somewhere safe.
Everything else could go hang for all he cared.
( - )
Chapter 3
( - )
(With Nico)
Sitting back in a firm, wooden chair Nico couldn't help but frown as he stared into the merrily burning hearth in front of him.
From where he was sitting, he could just about hear the soft murmur of voices as Anna, Pia's mother, looked after her daughter upstairs.
His hands tightened into fists, and his already pale knuckles whitened.
"Here," Roran said roughly as he thrust a steaming cup at him.
Twitching in response to the words.
Nico refocused his mind and took the proffered cup in both hands.
He could feel the warmth emanating from the hot wine within.
For someone who had long since grown used to the cold, it was an oddly pleasant feeling.
It also helped distract him from his inner turmoil.
The peaceful tranquillity that he'd been living had been abruptly shattered.
Lifting his cup, more to distract himself further than anything, he took a sip of the warm, faintly spiced wine within.
It tasted bitter on his tongue.
He had just killed three men.
His dark eyes narrowed.
They were not the first people he'd killed, not by a long way. He'd killed many people in his short life, and some far less deserving than the three he had slaughtered that night.
But at the same time. They had been the first people he'd killed here in Westeros.
Killing the three would-be rapists had been the first time he had spilt blood in the new peaceful life he'd been striving to achieve.
He wet his lips.
Despite despoiling his new life by once again taking the lives of others, he regretted nothing.
In the end, they deserved death.
He exhaled softly, breathing out a cloud of steam.
Despite the warmth of the fire and the heat he could feel emanating from the cup in his hand, he still felt cold at his core.
His powers, which he mainly had ignored and refused to use these past two years, had once again reared their ugly head.
"You did the right thing," Roran continued after a moment of uncomfortable silence as he flopped into the chair opposite him. They were both in the main room of Roran's large, two-story home. "I know you might feel like shit. Killing people… it isn't something any right-minded person can just brush off. But at the same time, you shouldn't feel bad. You did the right thing, lad. And once we finish our drinks, I'll accompany you to the stables and help sort things out. Most everyone will be abed by then, so we can use my handcart and dump their bodies in the river. The current is strong enough that it should take them far from here. By the time they wash ashore, I doubt even their own mothers would recognise them."
Roran's tone was blunt and pragmatic.
They were the words of a former soldier and an aggrieved father.
Nico took another sip of wine but didn't otherwise respond, as he instead continued to stare into the hearth.
He was still mulling over all that had happened.
Frowning at his silence, the larger, dark-haired man scratched his thick, curly beard and sighed. "You're in shock, I get that. It's not every day you kill a man, let alone three of them. But you need to remember lad, you did the right thing. Those… animals… after what they tried to do…. They didn't deserve to live. And no one in either Harrenhal or Hookton would begrudge you what you did either. Not that they'll ever find out. You don't have to worry about that. Me and Anna will keep it quiet, Pia will too."
Taking another drink, Nico finally looked up at Roran, his dark-brown almost black eyes boring into the gruff older man.
"You don't have to worry about the bodies," Nico finally spoke, his voice quiet as he tore his eyes from the eerily flickering flames in the hearth and instead looked over at the Roran. "I'll take care of them tonight on my way home. I don't want you and your family getting dragged into this."
Roran's brows knit together. "We're already involved. Those…. bastards… the moment they decided to go after my daughter-"
"And now they're dead," Nico interrupted brusquely. "We're the only ones that know Pia was even involved and I think we should keep it that way. You stay here with your family, and I'll deal with the bodies. That way we can make sure that none of you will be connected to what happened. Matthias and his men, their fates will remain a mystery. Just three men then disappeared in the night."
It was the best they could do.
"Fine," Roran said after a moment, his frown relenting as he met Nico's dark eyes and allowed the matter to drop.
Nico gave him a curt nod.
His mind is already shifting to what he should do about their horses and caravan.
If the three men disappeared, then their belongings would need to disappear too.
Settling back into his chair, the older man turned his attention back to the fire.
"Things are only going to get worse." Roran finally spoke up again, his tone almost as dour as his expression.
"How do you mean?" Nico asked, his eyes still on Roran.
Roran had always been a difficult man to read.
He was stern and gruff, and very rarely smiled or laughed.
Outwardly he appeared unfriendly bordering on hostile.
Yet, at the same time, he practically doted on his daughter and often went out of his way to help those around him. He had a hard, angry outer façade. But at heart, he was a decent, kind-hearted man. He was the type of person that would go out of his way to help others, without ever seeking recognition.
But at the same time, his outer façade was not entirely false. Despite being quite gentle to those he liked, he was still tough and moody. He didn't mince words, nor did he enjoy word games. Instead, he was always blunt and to the point.
Which is what drew Nico's attention to what Roran was currently saying. There was something in the older man's tone as he spoke, an underlying bitterness and sadness, that drew his attention.
"You're young, Nik," Roran said after a moment of thought. "Despite having lived through the tail end of the last Winter, you're still very much a summer child. You've not seen true winter or war."
Nico's expression darkened.
He'd seen a lot more than Roran could ever imagine.
"I remember the rebellion. I was one of the many thousands of levies from the Riverlands that were forced into battle. I was barely a man of sixteen years. Hell, I couldn't even grow a beard, and yet like a dozen others in the village I was dragged out of my mother's arms and forced into an army camp. I was given boiled leather armour, a wooden shield made up of rough-cut planks of wood, and a spear with an iron head and was then told to start marching to war." Roran took a sip of his drink, his eyes locked on the crackling flames in the hearth.
"I didn't know who we were fighting, or even why we were fighting. All I knew was that the lord of the lands had promised his support and that I was now expected to fight and die because of that promise. I still remember the fear I felt when I stood in my first shield wall. I also remember the stench. Thousand unwashed bodies crammed together, our shields overlapping. More than half the army had gotten drunk before the battle to build up their courage. The other half were pissing and shitting themselves at what was to come." He took another bracing sip of his drink.
"But that was just the fighting itself," He continued. "What was worse, was what happened here when all the men of fighting age were sent to war. Bandits, outlaws, raiders ravaged the land, pillaged the villages and hamlets, and murdered anyone who was too slow to escape."
"For those of us that survived the fighting and made it home battered, broken, and in some cases limbless, there were no celebrations or joyous reunions. Only more pain as we came home to dead friends and loved ones. Devastated families and burnt down homes and fields." Roran drained his drink. "The effects of war go far beyond distant battlefields, and it's happening again."
Nico frowned.
He knew what Roran was getting at.
He was talking about the escalating fight between the Lannisters and the Starks.
Already from what he had heard the Great Houses of the kingdoms were choosing sides, and were calling their banners to fight.
It was probably only a matter of time before things escalated to an all-out civil war if they hadn't already. At which point the Whents would be pressured by the ruling House of the Riverlands, House Tully, to gather up levies to fight for the Starks – from what he had heard the Starks and Tullys were kin through marriage. Or they would be pressured by the Crow and their Lannister supporters to support the king.
Either way, the Whents would be forced to pick a side and as their tenants; the villagers from Hookton and Harrenhal and all the other villages and hamlets in the area would then be conscripted and forced into battle to fight and die for a cause that was not their own.
Nico grits his teeth.
The future looked grim, especially for those on the bottom rung of society who were no more than cannon fodder for the social elites that ruled the lands from their ivory towers.
How many of those that he drank and laughed with in the evenings, would end up dying on a muddy, blood-soaked field far from home for the sake of satiating other men's egos?
How many families would be decimated, homes burnt down and lives ruined? All in the name of a petty squabble between out-of-touch nobles who cared only about themselves and their own self-aggrandisement.
It was so reminiscent of the relationship between gods and mortals, that it disgusted him to his core.
"Raiders have already started attacking villages and hamlets. Merchant convoys have been getting attacked on the King's Road, and there have already been whispers of the Whents being pressured to choose a side. And worst of all the Mountain that Rides has been seen in the area with his dogs of war." Roran pressed on, his gaze now on Nico. "This war is going to affect us all. The Whents will send their yeomen around eventually to start levying soldiers to fight for them, by force if necessary. Considering your age, you'll probably be press-ganged into fighting like all the other able-bodied men in the village."
"And you're worried about what'll happen when all the able-bodied men are gone?" Nico guessed. He would not allow himself to be forced into anything. Now that he had spilt blood, the cold, callous side of him, the kind he associated with his father, had once again raised its ugly head. He was no one's puppet. Be they god or noble, he would dance to no one else's tune but his own.
"Those bastards tonight. They were just a couple of drunk opportunists. Easily dealt with as you proved. The bandits, deserters, and raiders that'll start pillaging the area once the war gets started though, they'll be just as opportunistic. Only there'll be more of them, and they will come armed and ready to kill." Roran looked angry. "Those of us that don't get conscripted. We'll do what we can. We can set up sentries and flee into the woods or to Harrenhal when we see trouble coming. But luck can only carry us so far. Eventually, we'll be caught unaware or will be pursued, and then we'll be forced to fight.
Roran exhaled loudly and rubbed his eyes.
"Most of us will have seen too many winters or too few to really put up a fight. There won't be much that we can do against armed men in their prime." He continued, his expression shifting from grim to hopeless. "And when that happens…."
Nico scowled.
He could see the point Roran was making, but he didn't really know what to say in response.
"As much as it pains me to say it." The older man continued. "I won't be able to protect Pia and Anna if the raiders come. Sure, we'll run to the hills at the first sight of attackers and try to hide. But chances are we won't always be lucky. Depending on how long this war drags out…, eventually we'll get caught."
"So, what are you suggesting?" Nico asked his tone level.
"Before now, I was happy to let Pia do as she wants as I'd expected you to eventually come to me to ask for permission to court and marry her," Roran said bluntly. "But things have changed. You'll probably be going off to war soon, whether you want to or not. Which will leave Pia behind and vulnerable. I don't want that. Which is why I'm going to arrange for her to get a position up at the keep. It'll keep her safe behind Harrenhal's great walls, or at least safer that she'll be living in the village. The last time she got the offer, she rejected it. This time, I want you to help me convince her to take up a position in the Whent's Household, either in the buttery, as a cook, or as a maid. I don't care, I just want her safe."
Nico sat back in his chair as he took in all that Roran had just said.
He could understand why Roran was saying what he was.
His intentions were obvious, as was his reasoning.
He cared about his daughter's well-being, and just wanted her to be safe.
And if things were different, he would be fully on board with helping him.
Only there were factors involved that Roran didn't know about. Such as the fact that he would not allow himself to be dragged into other people's fights.
"I'll speak with Pia," Nico said after a moment.
Roran let out a soft sigh of relief.
"But I can't guarantee she'll accept. You know what she is like," He continued.
"Aye, she's wilful and stubborn, far too much like her mother," Roran grumbled before he shook his head. "But when it comes to her safety, I don't care. I won't let this rest."
Draining his cup of wine, Nico nodded.
"I'll see what I can do. But not now." He said bluntly. "Right now, she needs her mother, and she needs time."
"Aye," Roran scowled. The cup in his hand creaked from how tight he was gripping it. "Those bastards are lucky you got to them first."
"They aren't lucky they're dead," Nico said shortly.
He didn't know how the afterlife worked in this world. But if it was anything like the Underworld he was used to, he didn't envy those men their fate. Those who lived good lives were rewarded. Those who did nothing had nothing but apathy to look forward to. While those who did bad things had only suffering to look forward to for the rest of eternity.
He didn't pity the dead, nor did he envy them.
No one truly knew what their afterlife would be like until they had received their judgement.
Not even he knew what awaited him. After all, he had done many great things but had also committed many sins.
Nico wet his lips at that thought and drained his drink.
Sometimes it was best not to dwell on what could be, and instead focus on what is.
( - )
Leaving Roran's home sometime later.
Nico only stopped off at the stables long enough to fasten up Matthias's horses to his carriage.
The moon was high in the sky, and all the residents of the sleepy village had gone to bed.
Working calmly, Nico kept his deathly side suppressed.
Animals didn't tend to like him.
Thankfully though years of working on the farm had given him all the training he needed to keep his aura under control and the animals docile. It was mentally taxing at times, especially after having used his powers recently. But it was for the best. The last thing he needed was the animals panicking and drawing the attention of all and sundry to the scene of his crime.
Tightening his grip on the horse's reins, Nico took a deep breath and drew on the shadows around him. Drawing on the darkness within him that he had long since ignored and suppressed.
He was mentally drained from the day's exertions and the night's tribulations.
He had already used his powers once that night, and so what could continue to use them?
Pulling the shadows closer to him, he didn't give any of the horses the chance to panic as he instead dragged them into the shadow world in an instant.
He had limits on just how much he could pull through the shadows with him. But compared to the Athena Parthenos halfway around the world. Transporting a couple of horses and a caravan a few miles was not even on the same level.
Moments later, he emerged from the shadows outside his cottage without a sound.
For a single instant, all was still and silent.
Everything was at peace. Right up until the horses started bucking and neighing in panic as the happenings of the last few seconds caught up to them.
With a grunt, he quickly unhitched them and physically dragged them one by one away from the caravan and over to his lean-too stable where he kept his plough horse.
Tying the fretting animals up in the lean too, much to his own horse's distaste, he then left the skittish animals to it, even as he returned to the caravan and started to empty it swiftly.
Come the morning he would dismantle the carriage and turn it into firewood.
Cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders, he pushed tiredness to one side and once again sank into the shadows.
His night was still not over.
To truly cover his tracks, he needed to find the room the three men were staying in and remove their belongings.
He needed to make it seem as if they had just up and left of their own volition during the night.
Emerging in a shadowy corner of the inn – a place he'd sat and drank with friends many an evening – he kept his footing light as he crept through the now silent inn and headed for the guestrooms. There weren't many of them. So, it wouldn't take him long to find the empty ones.
This was not the way he had seen his night going.
But at least it would soon be coming to an end.
( - )
(The Next Day)
After a less-than-restful sleep, the morning came far too soon for Nico's liking.
Trying to shove away his dark thoughts from the night before. He had spent most of the day focused entirely on his work; taking advantage of the distraction of hard physical labour provided.
Pia hadn't come to visit him that morning.
He obviously understood why, but even so. Without her hanging around, chatting to him about everything and nothing, the day had felt far too quiet.
He hadn't liked it.
Over the last few months, he had become accustomed to her company and had become comfortable in her presence. They had fallen into a pleasant routine of sorts where more often than not they would have breakfast together in the morning either after walking up together, or after she walked over to meet him. Then they would both work the fields, before stopping off for some luncheon and a chat. And then finish off the work for the day and head to either the tavern or spend a night around at his cottage. It hadn't happened every day of course as they'd needed to be careful and at least appear to conform to societal propriety. Plus, there was only so far Roran's fondness for his daughter could be pushed before he snapped.
But even so, it had happened enough for him to get used to her company.
Only now he was alone again.
Scowling, Nico continued to stride up and down his now freshly ploughed field.
The main grunt work had been done. Which meant that it was now time to sow the seeds for his future harvest.
The work was long and not particularly fun.
But he didn't mind it.
It was time-consuming, but at least didn't require much thinking. Which meant he could let his mind wander as he worked.
What Matthias had told him before his untimely death was worrying, to say the least.
War was coming to Westeros.
It was almost a certainty at this point.
Nico scowled.
He didn't want there to be a war.
All he wanted was to live a nice, quiet, peaceful life.
But apparently, fate had decided to be a bitch. Again.
Exhaling loudly, Nico pushed his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes and looked back at his freshly sown field.
Would his home survive the war? Would Hookton or the village of Harrnehal?
He grimaced.
The war would come to his doorstep eventually, he knew that. He just didn't know when. After all, the castle of Harrenhal – partially ruined though it was – was the largest fortress in the Seven Kingdoms and with its pretty central location and the verdant lands surrounding it… he could already see the opportunities the area had for both would-be invaders and desperate defenders.
The fortress was in a highly strategic location and was big enough to provide shelter for a decent-sized army.
Both sides would want it, which meant that both sides would soon probably start fighting over it like animals.
Already he had heard of raids on nearby villages. How long would it be before the raids came to his Harrenhal and the surrounding villages and hamlets?
As much as he hated it, he suspected that sooner or later he would end up being dragged into the war to come.
He grimaced at that thought.
He didn't want to be in another war. But at the same time, this land was his home and the people here were now his people.
Nico shook his head at that thought and looked over at the ominous fortress in the distance.
As much as he hated it, he knew he would need to do something.
It wasn't in him to just sit back and act as an impartial observer. Not when those he cared about were in danger.
Sighing, he pulled his sweaty shirt off and headed for his house.
He could feel the cold air as it played across his bare, sweaty flesh.
Ignoring the unpleasant sensation, he grabbed a bucket of cold water and upended it over his head.
A gasp left his lips.
It wasn't a pleasant experience, but it was a bracing one at least.
Holding back a shiver he quickly scrubbed himself down and then headed inside so he could quickly dry himself off and put on some cleaner clothing.
A few moments later he was dressed and heading out again.
On the way, he grabbed a heel of bread and some cheese from his table.
It was still pretty early in the day, or at least it was for a farmer. After all, there was probably still a couple of hours of daylight still. Normally, he'd just take a break for a few minutes and then go back to work. But right now, he just wasn't in the mood to do any more work.
Locking his house up behind him he started hiking across the fields.
He wouldn't be stopping off in Hookton tonight. Instead, he would once again head over the fields to Harrenhal.
Crossing the nearby meadow and walking along the river, Nico spent a bit of time sorting himself out mentally, even as he closed in on his destination.
A part of him wasn't sure how to start things off when he finally made it to his destination, Pia's house.
After all, this wasn't a situation he was all that familiar with.
Relationships.
Familial, romantic, and friendly.
He just didn't have all that much experience with them.
Call it the downsides of his messed-up life.
His mother had died in a bombing when he was very young. He couldn't even remember the sound of her voice, or what she looked like.
Bianca, his older sister. She had first abandoned him to join the Hunters of Artemis and had then gone off on a dangerous quest and never returned. From what he had heard, she had died bravely and ended up in Elysium.
He'd been only ten at the time and it had taken him a long time to sort his feelings out about her.
Especially after he'd gone to the gates of Elysium and discovered that she had already moved on from her old life and chosen to take a dip in the River Lethe and live a new one back on earth. Only as a different person, with no memories of who she had been, or who he was.
Suffice it to say, the realisation that he would never see his sister again and that his last memories of her were bitter and angry had haunted him for a long time.
Probably longer than could be considered normal even for a grieving child, due to him having moved down to the Underworld with his father soon after she died.
He grimaced at that thought.
His father, Hades, was not a bad man.
He was not the villain that rumour and gossip painted him to be. But nor was he a good man either.
Instead, he was pretty much neutral all things considered.
Neutral, and very distant.
In the time he had spent living with his father, they hadn't ever had a single heart-to-heart.
They had barely spoken at all, and the only times that they had spoken were because his father had wanted him to do something or because he had wanted something from his father.
Their relationship was practically non-existent.
The other residents of the Underworld had been likewise useless when it came to having heartfelt conversations and discussing things like feelings.
The ghost and dead were so dissociated from life that they often just looked at him blankly when he tried to broach the subject of relationships.
The furies had responded with disdain, and then gone on a rant about sadomasochistic pleasure.
His divine brothers and sisters had wanted pretty much nothing to do with him.
As for his stepmother, well the less said about Persephone the better.
Greek Mythology often painted Hera as the stepmother from hell.
From his experience, Persephone could give the Queen of the Gods a run for her money.
His lips curled up in a bitter smile as he continued to reminisce.
All things considered, he had probably turned out better than he probably should have done.
Though in part that was thanks to his younger half-sister, Hazel.
He hadn't had a chance to know her for as long as he might've wanted. But he'd known her long enough for the sweet, younger girl to make an impression on him.
His smile turned slightly more genuine at the thought of Hazel.
It had been over two years since he had last seen her.
But he hoped that she and Frank were still going strong. His sister had had a hard life and deserved happiness.
Though the same could probably be said for him.
Frowning at that thought, he continued down the path and into the village of Harrenhal.
It wasn't good to dwell on the past too often.
No, it was always far better to look to the future.
After all, his past wasn't something that could be changed, but his future at least was still very much in flux.
Mulling that thought over he entered Harrenhal and started trudging down the muddy main street.
There weren't many people around at this time of the day, save for some housewives gossiping and some children too young to work running around playing.
Passing the inn and attached stables, he paused long enough to look over at the scene of the crime.
In the light of day, it looked like nothing was amiss.
Frowning as he thought back on the night before, he continued walking to Pia's house. There was some smoke coming out of the chimney, which told him that at least someone was home.
Stepping back after knocking on the door he didn't have to wait long before the door was pulled open revealing Ann, Pia's mother.
"Nik," Ann said, her eyes widening for a moment at the sight of him.
She looked tired and the bright smile that usually graced her face was notably absent.
"Afternoon, Ann," Nico nodded his gaze, taking in the short, plump woman for a moment, before moving past her to the interior of her home.
"Pia's by the hearth," Ann nodded, her lips thinning as she looked over his shoulder before moving and gesturing for him to step inside. "Come on in."
Nodding, he entered the house and quickly saw Pia.
She was where Ann had said. Sitting in Roran's chair in front of the hearth with a blanket around her shoulders.
Catching Ann's eye, Nico nodded and headed over to where she was sitting, even as Ann gave them a little space.
Taking the seat opposite Pia. Incidentally, the same seat he had sat in the night before. Nico took a moment to look at her.
She looked tired, but otherwise okay.
Though markedly she wasn't looking at him and was instead staring into the empty hearth.
Not knowing what to say or what else to do, Nico took a moment to think before with a sigh he picked up the fire poker and started shifting about the ashes in the hearth revealing some of the faintly glowing embers within.
Getting onto his knees, he started to build up the fire again.
"Thank you," Pia said into the silence that followed.
Her eyes were on him watching as he put some kindling on top of the smouldering embers, and then followed that up with some thick sticks as he created a teepee of sorts around the now crackling kindling.
His job done, Nico sat back down and looked over at Pia.
His dark eyes met her lighter brown ones.
Her gaze was nervous and lacked the easy confidence and joy that he was used to.
"No problem," he said after a moment. He still didn't know what to say. "Are you alright?"
Pia looked at him for a moment.
"No, not really."
Nico nodded.
"You killed those men," Pia continued.
He had to hold back a grimace at her words. He had hoped she hadn't seen that.
"I'm glad," she said bluntly.
Nico's eyes widened in surprise as he looked at her.
"I'm glad you killed them," She repeated, as if not just assuring him, but also herself as well.
"So am I," Nico replied after a moment. "I'm sorry it happened. If I had paid more attention to what they were saying and how much they were drinking… if I had walked, you home…"
Pia shrugged and looked away.
Nico looked away too.
The guilt he had been trying to ignore all day started to percolate in his gut.
"Then they probably would have done it to someone else," Pia said after a moment. "Either someone else in the village or someone in another village. Men like that… they're animals."
Nico nodded.
"I don't regret killing them," he admitted.
Pia gave him a weak smile.
"Did you finish ploughing the field?" She asked, abruptly redirecting the conversation.
"Yes," Nico nodded, gratefully grasping onto the subject. "Though it wasn't as much fun without you."
Pia let out a soft laugh. "Do you really think farming is fun?"
"I enjoy it," Nico shrugged. "It puts me at peace…."
Pia smiled again. "Then I'll make sure to come help you tomorrow."
Nico shifted. "You don't have to."
"No," Pia nodded. "But I want to. Besides, I do not think I could stay home with my mother again."
"I heard that," Ann's voice rang out behind him.
Nico coughed to hide a laugh.
His lips curled up again as he saw a bit of life return to Pia's previously dull gaze.
She was still shaken and probably had things she needed to work through.
But she was resilient, and far tougher than she looked.
With a bit of time, and some support, he was confident she'd pull through, and he'd be there for her if or when she needed him.
( - )
(In the village of Hookton)
Marching down the cobbled road, the repetitive beat of multiple booted feet drew the attention of the locals.
Peering out of windows, the women of the village watched as a small company of men-at-arms, wearing the now familiar yellow and black livery of House Whent entered the village of Harrenhal. The men returning from the fields were likewise transfixed. With groups of farmhands and labourers stopping in the street to observe the proceedings.
There were ten of them in total, and at their head rode a man in gleaming half-plate armour. Over the top of his armour, the man – a dark-haired, moustachioed man with a thick neck – wore a yellow tabard with three white hedgehogs prominently down onto the front. The man's name was Ser Willis Wode, a knight of House Wode, and one of the landed knights sworn to House Whent.
Watching as the man rode into the centre of the village, dread and concern began to spread throughout the local populace as they released what his presence likely meant.
By the time the knight had unfurled a scroll of parchment and started to read, all of them knew what Ser Wode was going to say even before he said it.
The women of the village began to cry and hold their children close.
The war had finally reached Harrenhal and the surrounding area and in response, House Whent had sent out men to start conscripting feudal levies for the battles to come.
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AN: So what do you think?
Things will soon be escalating.
The reviews so far have been pretty interesting, some good ideas and suggestions have been made. So keep it up, I enjoy hearing from people, and the reviews and comments often help guide future chapters.
Thanks for reading.
Catch you later.
Greed720.