"Vengeance is our Song." -The words of House Belmont in the aftermath of their Retribution Campaign, known to historians as the Sack of Dorne

"The Belmont's and their people possess an indomitable will. We thought very little of them, they were descendants of savage Northerners and wore their heritage proudly. But no matter how many times we had beaten them, they would simply grit their teeth, stand back up, and come back at us with greater ferocity than before. In the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms, there is no noble house that has endured and despises defeat more than the Belmont's. I do not wish to ever again fight a people who refuse to admit they are beaten no matter what was thrown at them..." - Extract from a Journal of King Artys Arryn

"Belmont at the Gates! Seven have mercy... Belmont at the Gates!" -Words that inspired dread during the days of King Theon Stark's military campaign south.

"I will not let Moat Cailin- a fortress we have held for the Kings of Winter for thousands of years be reduced to a second Harrenhal, nor will I let my men be victims to another Field of Fire. No, we will do what they least expect, Attack." -Lord William Belmont, the night before his successful assault on the Targaryen Vanguard Camp

"It is ironic to refer to them as savages, as through them lineages such as Gardner, Greyiron, Durrandon, Stark and more recently Targaryen have survived through them." -Maester Yandel on the Lineages of the Northern Realms post-Robert's Rebellion

Chapter 1: The Bloody-Handed Demon of High Heart

The Battle of High Heart was over. They had won. The Andals had been scattered to the four winds after their king, Erreg the Kinslayer, had been slain in Battle.

Yet it did not feel like a victory. Adrian Belmont surveyed the aftermath of the battle. While the casualties were high, the Andals' attempt to commit sacrilege, burning the sacred Weirwoods of High Heart, was worth it.

Since the actions of his former King, Ormund III Durrandon, Adrian saw no reason to show mercy to these invaders. Despite many Andals dead, Adrian's hatred and bloodfury towards the Andals was limitless and he liked nothing better than to slaughter every Andal in the world.

"My Lord, your orders?" one of his men asked.

Many of the soldiers that came with him, and his father were dead now, they had underestimated Andal's Steel armor and weapons, especially since they boasted some of the finest iron and bronze weapons, so what if they had some other type of metal?

A lot it seems, their soldiers found it hard to find purchase on steel plate, only aiming for the joints allowed them to dispatch these knights.

"Gather the dead and strip the Andal corpses of their arms and armor." He began giving orders. "Skilled metalworkers were still in their retinue, perhaps they could find a way to make more of this 'steel' at the very least it would allow them to gradually match them in terms of armament."

"And what of the prisoners?" the soldier asks.

"Prisoners?" Adrian repeated.

"Despite many of them fleeing, we capture over three hundred of them."

Adrian was surprised that there were survivors, to begin with. Not that it mattered in the end.

"They were so keen on burning Weirwoods in the name of their Seven Gods, it's time they get a taste of their own medicine." Adrian snarls "Have them ready when I get back. I'm going to… execute them before our Gods."

"It will be done." The Soldier salutes and departs.

Adrian moves towards the area where his father fell in battle. When the Andal Knights broke the infantry formation, the battle had devolved into a melee.

"Gods, it could have been worse," Adrian thought as he walked through the aftermath. Were it not for the fact that they were already adopting crossbows when the Andals started their invasion, and that metal known as steel had varying degrees of quality, they would have lost, horribly.

Crossbows had been adopted for an entirely different reason, mainly to combat the heavier foot infantry other kingdoms were beginning to field. Adrian was also thanking the gods that steel was not consistent material, he had witnessed crossbows rain ineffective volleys on the knights accompanying the Andal King, but it was working to deadly effect on the rest.

Stripping the dead of their steel armor would be prudent, especially that of the knights accompanying the Andal King, as they were only felled when they had been stabbed in the more vulnerable joints between their armor. He had seen wounded knights cry out for 'parley' amid battle, not that it mattered. The word itself was foreign to them and it most likely had to do with their culture, more so the battle had devolved into a bloody melee, what did they think would happen?

He approached the site where his father fell and found healers tending to him.

"Father?"

"Adrian... have we won?"

Adrian grimaced as he looked over his father's injuries, his armor had been rent asunder by the Steel weapons of the Andals and several arrows had struck vital points on his body. In short, he was silently amazed that his father was still alive, but even if he brought a healer he would still perish. At most he could be given Milk of the Poppy.

He would never know the truth, but Adrian was certain that his father knew what he was thinking.

"Yes Father," he replied. "The Andals fled after you slew their king and our men have run them down."

All the anger held back as they were stripped of their lands and titles and even humiliated in the Stormlands, it all came to bear on the Andal King Erreg. Outnumbered three to one and the Belmont's still emerged victorious with the Andal King slain, there was a reason that the Storm Kings had them wage war in their name.

"Good..." Robert was interrupted by his injuries and he began coughing up even more blood, he was getting paler and paler.

"How many?" was all the dying lord asked. how many of his subjects will he be joining him he asks.

"Of the Twenty-five thousand soldiers that chose to follow us after were stripped of our lands and titles about sixteen thousand remain," Adrian forced to explain the details before he added more. "Of them well over half have been injured with at least twelve hundred unlikely to return to the field. I do not think we have enough men to fight another battle like that father." Robert nods and grimaces.

"Adrian... you... are in command now." Those were his final words and the light faded from his father's eyes. Lord Robert Belmont of the House Belmont was dead.

He wanted to cry, he wanted to weep, he wanted to rage against the accursed Andals. But he could not, Adrian Belmont would grieve in private, now he had responsibilities, and he could not let his doubts, or his emotions cloud his judgment.

0o0o0

When Adrian came back all the Andal prisoners were ready. The Belmont soldiers and guards watch over them with Hawk-like gaze, who are all tied up and immobilized. Around them were the Weirwoods, their face-like features—motionless, silent, watching, and observing.

"Everything is ready my Lord."

"You think you won Belmont?"

Adrian turns his head to where the voice comes from. The voice comes from one of the prisoners. He was a bearded man, tall and powerful-looking. A Knight, from Adrian's point of view. And Andal, due to his fair-hairstyle.

"You made a big mistake killing our King, heathen, a big mistake" the blonde prisoner snarled in defiance. "When word of what happened spread, every Andal will not rest until they come to avenge Erreg! They will not rest until they see you dead, and your cursed House wiped out!"

Adrian looked at the defiant man. It was a long moment before he walked up to him, with a calm look on his face. He then gave orders for his men to have him on his feet, so he look him face to face.

"What's your name?" he asked the man.

"Ser Rickard Crown," the knight says with pure defiance.

"Tell me something Crown," Adrain began to ask him. "Do you believe that when you die, your Gods will welcome your spirit with open arms?"

"I do!" Crown says. "And I also believed that Seven would condemn all tree-loving heretics to the Seven Hells for refusing the true faith. You Adrian Belmont—by killing Erreg—you had been marked by the True Gods—"

Crown's words were cut off when Adrian suddenly drove a knife into Crown's stomach. Despite Crown's screams and struggles, Adrian's knife enlarged the wound, from his stomach to his chest.

Right in front of the horrifying prisoners, Adrian digs deeper and reaches in and pulls Crowns' internal entrails out, for all to see. It was the start.

For five hours straight, one by one, Adrian killed and ripped out every Andals's entrails from their open wounds. According to the old ways of the First Men, "the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword". But Adrian was not using a sword. He was using a Knife. The sword was too easy, too quick, and too merciful for the Andals.

He allows the Andals to say their peace before he kills them. Some of them became defiant like Crown. Some of them were brave. Some of them are wetting their pants. Yet they all died the same—brutally by his hand.

By the time Adrian was done, he looked like a demon. His face was at ease and calm, yet his hand was bloody red. Still, after executing over three hundred Andals brutally, Adrian wishes there were more Andals to be killed.

"Burn these bodies from a distant location from here," Adrian gave orders. "And make sure their entrails are hung on the branches of the Weirwoods. Their souls belong to the Old Gods, and I pray they suffered until the end of time."

"Yes, my lord."

Now Adrian needed to plan, with High Heart in its current state, they would have to leave. Crown was right. The Andals would return if only to avenge their King, in their place he would have done the same. Where would he bring them? They were being harassed on their journey by outriders, it was only at High Heart that they found a reprieve and in a way sanctuary. Now that sanctuary had been compromised, but where would he bring them now?

0o0o0

"The Greenseer wishes to speak with you, Lord Belmont."

Adrian was silent, lost in thought, one of the Children was about to confront him for his impudence when the Greenseer made a halting gesture.

"It is fine, it is only natural that the son grieves for the father." Adrian was not paying attention, but he would have seen an approximation of pity on the Greenseer's face if he had.

"He is thrust into a position he had not expected to be given and now he must lead his people." Greenseer's words finally snapped Adrian out of his thoughts.

"It is not lord. That title belonged to my father and that was before Ormund stripped it from him," he replied bitterly.

"It will be your title once more when you go North." He replied.

North? What do you mean by that? Adrian was aware that his ancestors hailed from the North but they were cast out long ago. According to the old stories their ancestor was cast out by the Red King of the Dreadfort for supporting Bran the Builder and if stories were to be believed ending the Long Night... but Adrian thought it to be naught but hearsay, and perhaps a way that his ancestors used to try and make themselves seem more important.

"I know enough about my family's history to know that we were cast out of the North," Adrian said.

"Nevertheless Adrian Belmont, it is the only place you can go." The Greenseer walked towards the young lord and stared him in the eyes. In an instant, his mind was flooded with images.

He witnessed an army of men bearing the banner of the Direwolf confront an army with no banners. It took a moment for his mind to process the fact that he was witnessing the King of Winter confront wights, beings he had thought had only existed in tall tales. He watched as slowly but surely the army of the dead was pushed back. He witnessed as the King of Winter as he arranged for the construction of the Wall

"We were supposed to die here, and thus my species was to die a slow death. The Andal King Erreg was supposed to burn High Heart to the ground, yet it has not happened and the King lies dead, slain by your father, and thanks to your father many of the Children will live on. Your family was supposed to have been wiped out by the Red Kings of the Dreadfort Millennia ago yet here you are, the only descendants of the Last Hero."

Before Adrian could raise any questions from that revelation, the Greenseer continued, ignoring his look of shock.

"Your family bears the Warrior's Blood, a gift we gave to him, you and yours have always been content in battle, to fight and die with a weapon in hand, to seek new challenges and overcome them, it is your greatest strength. But in the end, it is also your greatest weakness, until your ancestors were cast out it was stymied by a single place."

As the Greenseer spoke, Adrian felt more of his childhood memories stir, tales of the Long Night, stories of the cold and rigid land that gave birth to his ancestors but home nonetheless.

"Everything your ancestors have achieved, every war, every glory they have attained has brought you to this point, feared by your former peers, your very name dreaded by those who stood against you enough that they gladly seek your destruction. All your ancestors have wrought will guide you to your destination, and it is only by going to where winter fell that you will find the very thing that your ancestors yearned for."

Before he could even think the words had already gone past his lips.

"What was it?"

Where could they possibly go now? They were disgraced, and if the Andals returned to attack their numbers would dwindle faster, all while winter approached. As the Greenseer said their family had made many enemies, most of whom would gladly see them wiped out, the only place that lacked people with grievances against them was land that had longed exiled them. But deep down, even after he had asked the question, Adrian Belmont knew exactly what the Greenseer was about to say.

"Home."

AN

Glossary

The Great Sentence of High Hear: The Great Sentence of High Hear was the largest single-handed execution in the history of the Seven Kingdoms. After House Belmont, along with their allies; First Men River kings defeated the Andal Army under the command of Erreg the Kinslayer, Adrian Belmont oversaw the execution of three hundred Andals Knights and Men-In-Arms, personally. For this act, Adrian Belmont was forever known as the Bloody-Handed Demon of High Heart.