Shiera panted and gasped as she and her company were finally given a chance to rest. The long run that the Alpha-company drill instructors had put them through had left all sixty of them all but dead on their feet, and the young girl knew that the days training was not yet complete.

Despite the long days of training, and the military lifestyle, Shiera had few complaints. She and her fellow Delta-company recruits had three well cooked meals every day, beds to sleep in, and most importantly, they had each other. A year in spartan training had built her and her companions, once sixty strangers pulled from all over the seven kingdoms, into a family. Every single one of them were her brothers and sisters, and she loved them as much as she saw the other spartan companies loved each other.

Edmure, a young boy from Dorne who had been a part of her Fireteam Jaeger for the week, had tripped and fallen today during an obstacle course. Fireteams in Delta-company were fairly small, but almost constantly shifted in order to get them all familiar with each other. This meant that over the last year she had come to know the other fifty-nine members, and those members had come to know her. Once Edmure had tripped, it had taken only a heartbeat for her and Mikal to pick him up and get moving again. Once she might have left him behind, after all, the first rule of the slums of Flea Bottom was to take care of yourself first and foremost. That notion had been beaten out of her, out of all of them, in the first month of their time in spartan training.

CPO Mendez, or chief Mendez as he ordered them to call him, had yelled down anyone who tried to get ahead without their team. That was when she had learned the first rule of her new family.

'You never leave a man behind if you can help it.'

From that first month onwards, they knew that win or lose, failure or success, the sixty of them did it together. When they were flown to the wolf's wood in the North and ordered to find their way back to the pelican, they had stuck together. Then they were dropped from falcons and pelicans into the ocean told to make it back to shore, they had joined together and swum home as one. Meals were eaten together, jokes were told and retold together, and new ones were occasionally learned from the older Gamma-company who occasionally assisted in their training.

More than once, Shiera had fallen asleep alongside other members of her company, studying over firearm manuals and military handbooks, trying desperately to memorise them and ready themselves for tests in the morning.

Of course, it was by no means easy, sleepless nights and hard days sent the entire company to bed in tears more than once, but compared to before, and compared to what they might have to go back to if they 'washed out' as it was put, it was more than enough to keep all of them motivated as they moved through the spartan training one day at a time.

"All right, water break!" The drill instructor yelled, cracking open what Shiera now knew was a water cooler, and had come to associate with welcome relief from the oppressive heat of the midday sun.

Seemingly fully recovered from their exercises, the candidates raced over at top speed, fast but orderly. After all, they knew that the longer they quarrelled over who got water first, the longer they had to wait for the water itself.

Shiera found herself near the front of the line, just behind Mikal and in front of Moyra, a girl from the North who seemed even more punished by the heat than the rest of them.

The line of children moved steadily onwards, and being so close to the front, Shiera was quickly handed a medium-sized water-bottle. Each of them had their own, made of metal and plastic, and each of them was responsible to handing it to the instructors in the morning and keeping it with them after training and over the night. Losing your bottle meant no water for the day, at least until it was either found, or a new one was assigned to you.

Shiera had never once lost her bottle, keeping it with her at all times when it was not being filled by the instructors as relief from long days of physical conditioning. Unscrewing the cap, she found Moyra standing next to her, taking greedy gulps from her bottle before she poured some over her head. Shiera smiled, copying the other Delta candidate, and letting the ice-cold water pour over her head. The water soaked into her silvery hair, cut short like all the rest. Her hair had been one of her best features according to her mother, something she'd shared with her. Her hair had been long once as well, reaching the middle of her back. It had drawn more sympathy from passing nobles and merchants, who were more willing to toss a coin to a pretty girl who looked like the blood of Valyria than others.

Now it was cut just above the shoulder, not even covering her whole neck, and Shiera ran her hands through the shortened tresses. She liked it better now, she had decided early into the training. Every one of them had their hair cut short, though the trainers and officers allowed for some length, so long as it didn't come past the neck and shoulders. Some of the other boys and girls kept their hair as long as they could, but overall, they all had the same style. The similarity made her feel safe. Once she had had to rely on her hair, a way to earn a little extra coin to bring back to her father and mother. Now it didn't matter how she styled herself, only how fast she could run, how far she could jump, how long she could march, the same for her as for everyone else.

All too soon, the last of the bottles were handed out, and she could see every one of the trainees gulping down the liquid. It had been a strange thing at first. To know that outside of training, they could get water almost whenever they wanted, not only that, but it was clean and pure and cold, when most had only ever gotten water from rivers, wells, or ponds. The spartan training barracks was far too spacious for them all, used to holding upwards of four-hundred candidates, but that emptiness had only drawn them all closer together.

Every aspect of the Plataea was a wonder, and during the early days of training, several of them had given voice to the idea that the captain and his people were the gods themselves, come down from the heavens. Training had disabused them of that notion, eternal paradise would never force them to do so many squats.

Then they'd had their first spacewalk.

Flown up in a pelican, past the atmosphere and into space, as it had been explained to them. Weight had ceased to be, and they floated around the backs of their transport. It took only a few minutes after that to reach the black cat prowler stationed in orbit above them. Hollowed out and meant for training spartan candidates in zero-g environments now that the Plataea herself was planet-locked, it had allowed for them all to experience their first taste of space.

Shiera herself remembered how she had nearly vomited during the ride up in the pelican, only to grimace as floating balls of vomit had floated through the cabin the Meria, a girl from Dorne, had thrown up. Their chaperones had been there within moments, capturing the sick in a small bag and bringing it away before anyone else could be covered.

Shiera never thought she could feel as free as she did when they were finally let loose in the stripped-down room of the black cat. Bouncing around, without limit, without weight. It was amazing, magical in the way that she hadn't felt since she'd first jumped out of that pelican during initiation. She remembered laughing, long and loud as she and the others played and chased each other through the air. Games were formed amongst the sixty of them, but all too soon the revelry ended. Together they had been put through another set of tests. Zero-g obstacle courses meant to test their ability to navigate, and it had been the best exercises she had yet been a part of. Space felt natural for her. The weightlessness, the freedom. It was like she was flying, but she didn't have wings. Even the few parachute drops they'd practiced hadn't felt like that. Those had been controlled descents, and the ground was always the destination. Up there, there was no ground, no up or down, only her and the freedom of weightless movement.

Of course, not all of them had taken to it, and some of her fellow candidates had been run through the drills so much they'd almost cried. It was then that she found out how tears behaved without weight. They didn't stream down one's face, making tracks on their cheeks. Instead, they pooled until there was enough that they separated, forming their own small little balls of salty water and floating away.

"Alright, back to positions!"

Shiera jerked upright as Hazel called them all back. Her body cooled off somewhat from the water and break, she set off at a light jog, passing Hazel and placing her bottle in the cooler, along with all the others.

"Line up!"

Rosenda stepped up, covered head-to-toe in mjolnir armour. She was tall, taller than most people Shiera had ever seen, but not taller than the captain. She was, however, their drill instructor for today under CPO Mendez, who was attending some kind of meeting.

"Ready!"

Together the sixty children, aged between six and eight, formed up together before as one they ran.

After nearly two years, Tom could still say getting assigned to away missions after the tourney was the best decision he could have made for his team. Staying in Westeros was dull. Most of the spartans were stuck at the Plataea, helping build the settlements and shoring up their makeshift fortifications, not that they were lacking compared to their contemporaries. Even the moderately built concrete walls, reinforced with spare steel and rebar, were leagues head of most of the constructions of the seven kingdoms. Still, building wasn't what spartans were built for, and every month or so, a new team left to relieve one of the away missions sent out across the planet.

Westeros was mostly covered by satellite imaging, and the multiple teams dealing with the native's war, but the massive continent across their channel was largely an unknown. As it was, away missions were sent out once a month, scouting around the territories of every power that command personnel back at the Plataea considered even a mild threat.

Tom had managed to secure several such missions, taking the rest of team Foxtrot with him. Their first had been up past the Wall, where the UNSC science division had wanted to set up a research outpost to investigate not just the massive wall of ice that dwarfed every other construction in the world, but also the strange seasonal transitions that plagued the continent.

Foxtrot's job at the time had been to scout out a suitable location, and then see to the setting up of a base, protecting the structure until it could be fully self-sufficient. That mission had been dull as well, but at least there they had been able to wear their full mjolnir and carry weapons. They had even been allowed to ward off the curious locals who those south of the Wall called wildlings. A few shots from a pistol, or god forbid a shotgun, had sent them packing.

After that, new teams had been rotated in to guard the outpost and foxtrot had returned home, by that time the war was raging, and the captain had decided that it was the right time to have the rest of the companies sent out across the sea. Foxtrot had then been assigned alongside team gladius from Gamma-company to investigate the region that under the authority of the 'free city' of Volantis. The Rhoyne had been an impressive river by any standard, but the city itself was just as much of a sty as any of the others. Granted it was better organised and maintained than most of the Westerosi cities, larger too, but it was still a pre-industrial mess of terrible hygiene and rampant feudalism. That hadn't been the worst part, however. Volantis, as with most of the cities of the eastern continent, practiced slavery, and in Volantis they did it with more fervour than almost anywhere else. Tom had been half tempted to start a revolt but had been ordered down by command. Disgusting as it was, they needed information before launching any revolutions or toppling any governments.

That mission had lasted nearly a year, traveling, and surviving with limited support, command couldn't afford to send pelicans to areas where they could be easily seen. That had been perhaps the best of the away missions, roughing it with his team, sleeping under the stars and often with rocks and cloth as pillows. Tom knew that most would prefer the soft bed and meals of life on the Plataea, but Tom and the other spartans had been built for combat, not luxury or relaxation.

That was why they were back in the north, beyond the Wall. Team Zulu had finished their tour guarding the research base, and now it was Foxtrot's turn to go at it.

The entrance slid open as he came back, and Tom walked into one of the hallways of the outpost. The door slid shut behind him, and another door opened, making sure that as little heat escaped as possible. Marching along, feet clanging on the metal boots clanging on the steel floor. Tom gave a not to one of the researchers, who looked away from one of the monitors long enough to return it before bringing their attention back to the data the outpost was gathering.

"Anything good?"

The spartan III turned, looking at Lucy as she lounged at a table. In her hand was a copy of 'Alice in Wonderland', a favourite of hers since they had been cadets in spartan training. Her voice was still raspy, low, and barely audible, but he was so familiar with it that he would recognise it anywhere.

"Nothing, a few of the locals came close. But they're probably just looking to camp out near here."

"Probably keeping warm from the excess heat by camping close to the outpost." Adam said, cleaning his sidearm.

"Looks that way." Tom nodded. "Anything new from the egg heads."

"You'd have to ask them." Min told him, coming out of the prep room in his own set of mjolnir. "We don't usually keep up with them unless its shore leave."

Shore leave was something of a misnomer for the UNSC in Westeros. While technically there was free time on the ship, and now that they were on a planet, they did technically get leave, it was more or less useless. Only spartans, and those UNSC personnel who ventured into the uncivilised continent, could get it, and most didn't really have much to do once they got it. Finding a good book in Westeros was harder than finding gold.

Still, Min and Adam at least had become somewhat interested in the natives. The 'freefolk' as some of them called themselves, were an interesting people, and while anthropology was by no means something that the command and science departments were interested in, the two spartans of foxtrot had become more and more interested in the wandering groups surviving the frozen tundra.

Over the last three months since foxtrot had taken over the duty of overseeing the arctic base's security a few, small, infractions had been allowed. The solar panels from the base provided more energy than was strictly needed, and rather than waste it once the backup batteries were full, Adam and Min had decided to use the excess in a portable that was set up just nearby.

They'd brought in several groups of the nomadic natives through, showing them how the heater was useful, and even building a mid-sized shelter out of wood over the last month. Since then, the place had become something of a popular spot for the natives, with dozens of them filtering through over the last month. People arrived and left every day, but for the most part it was small communities, groups of twenty up to as many as one hundred.

It was a security breach that in Westeros would have gotten them disciplined by the captain, but up in the frozen north, beyond the wall, it was barely even acknowledged by the officers at the Plataea, and when it was found out, Kurt had barely cared. Only making mention of it to hear about how it had apparently endeared them to some of the locals.

'So long as they don't endanger the mission, what they do on shore leave is their business.' Tom remembered the captain saying when he had brought up his teammates' new endeavour.

And it seemed that it was that time. Adam was set to do a patrol, but Min had joined him, apparently looking to continue work on the little makeshift town that they had formed.

'You going out?' Lucy signed, grabbing Min's attention.

"Yeah." He nodded. "I read up on how to build stories on wood buildings. Adam and I are going to add some expansions to the hall."

"Just don't get too close." Tom told him. "I don't have to remind you that we won't be here forever, the next shift change is in a few months."

"Then we should get as much done as we can." Adam said.

'I thought you hated working on the constructions back home.' Lucy signed.

"This is different." Adam said. "We get to make the decisions for this, not that we'd go against the captain, but this is our project, like a hobby I guess."

"And we're probably the only people on this planet who can build something for these people."

The two left, Min for his patrol and Adam for his shore leave.

Tom watched them leave, before he turned to Lucy.

"We're following them?"

'Absolutely.'

Tywin all but snarled as the herald brought him the news. Of all the things that Ambrose could have done, this was perhaps the most infuriating. The Great Council that had placed Robert Baratheon on the throne had ended only a day after it had begun, with a travesty of a trial by seven and the abdication of the claims of the entirety of House Targaryen and the newly revived House Blackfyre. Some of the dissenters grumbled over a Northern bastard claiming the name of such a prominent house, but if there was any single name that would never gain favour amongst those loyal to the Targaryens, it was Blackfyre. A good move on the Stark's part, to distance the boy from his supposed claim to the throne.

Still, his anger was not directed at them, but at his bannerman, if he could still be called that. The entire keep was abuzz with the news. Kurt Ambrose, head of House Terra, who had thrown down the dragon kings of old, would be taking the former queen to be his wife. Already there was talk of the new Lord of the Seven Kingdoms facing competition for his throne, and though Lord Kurt had made no mention of interest in the throne or its power, Tywin wasn't foolish enough to believe that his now far more tumultuous ally wasn't aware of it.

"Father? You called for me?" The old lion looked up from his work, seeing Jaime standing at the entrance to his solar with Kevan beside him.

"Yes, come."

Jaime and Kevan entered, shutting, and bolting the door behind them.

"You have heard the news." It was not a question, and neither treated it as such.

"Of course."

"Yes father."

The two nodded, and Tywin leaned back slightly in his chair.

"What will you do father?" Jaime asked.

"What can be done?" Kevan countered. "He all but won the war for Robert, both in the Red Keep and out in the field of battle. Taking Rhaella as a hostage and now marrying her. He makes himself one of the most sought-after lords in all the realm."

"And our deal with them will soon be subject to negotiation." Tywin said. "They have become too powerful. Too independent from the rest of us, and now he takes the Targaryens into his seat. How long before a child emerges claiming the throne, with the support of House Terra and the Plataea?"

"We could grant their lands back to the Farmans." Jaime proposed. "Lower their standing and regain the favour of the Farmans at the same time?"

"No." Tywin said. "To do so would show all our bannermen that not only can we not control them, but that good service is rewarded with treachery. For all that they now threaten our supremacy, the Terras have given naught but good and loyal service, with only a few instances of bucking."

"Then we allow them to become greater still?" Kevan asked.

"We cannot storm the Plataea, we have not the means, and if we begin a war with the spartans, we will be known as the aggressors. We have no reason to attack, like we did when the Reynes and Tarbecks rebelled."

"And not being an aggressor is preferable to seeing out house's power questioned within our own borders."

"We need not make war at all." Tywin said. "Lord Terra has made no move to weaken our house, and though this impudence of his was done without our consent, there is no manner by which this threatens us without his wilful cooperation."

Tywin turned to Jaime.

"You do not yet have a wife, and your dismissal from the kingsguard had been made official."

"The kingsguard serve for life." Jaime pointed out, though he knew that that meant little in the face of his father's will.

"And do you think Robert Baratheon will keep any of the men who served Aerys and Rhaegar in his own force?" Tywin asked with a raised brow. "He would have to be a fool of the highest order. Dayne, Hightower, Whent, they served Rhaegar even as he destroyed his family's standing with half the kingdoms. They fought to preserve the claims of the Targaryen children. They will be offered the black if they are lucky. Most likely, they will face the headsman's axe."

"And Robert would deny the oath of his soon to be good-brother?" Jaime asked.

"You will not get the chance to ask." Tywin chided. "Robert's wedding to Cersei will occur in a fortnight, enough time to assemble a celebration of appropriate proportions for the crowning and wedding of the new king. After that, you will return to Casterly Rock, where we will decide for you a bride, befitting of your station."

Jaime bit his tongue, stopping his protest. The young heir to Casterly Rock had wanted but one woman his whole life, and he would marry no other. Cersei might marry Robert Baratheon, but they knew that they belonged together, and no black-haired soon to be king could change that.

Still, he could not say such a thing aloud. The realm had tolerated the Targaryen custom of incest because of their dragons, and then because of tradition, but the punishment for incest, both by law and by the faith, was severe.

"And Ambrose's marriage to Rhaella?" Kevan asked.

"Will occur at the Plataea." Tywin said. "Just as well, we should not have the wedding of a former queen in the city of the new king."

"A grand celebration at the Plataea?" Jaime asked. "Most of the realm will likely arrive to see it."

"Only the highest lords of the realm have received invitation." Tywin said, holding up a small envelope of white paper with the deal of House Lannister on the front. "Lord Terra does not want a massive celebration, at least not from the lords of the realm, and all the better for us. The sooner this is done and forgotten in favour of the new dynasty, the better."

Tom and Lucy watched Adam as he dragged a fallen tree over to his and Min's project. The large house they were building was more of a hall but could comfortably fit the ninety or so locals who were currently housed there. Adam had once told them that the most 'freefolk' who had ever come through had been a band of two hundred, and they had had to crowd into the hall with everyone else during a sudden snowstorm.

It seemed that the hall was popular for the moment, though according to both locals and the science department on the Plataea had announced that this world's version of summer was coming. In the far north however, it seemed that even the summer years saw the fall of heavy snows and blizzards.

Still, the cold did not seem to damper the spirits of the natives, and the two other Beta-company spartans could see children running around Adam's armour covered legs and even trying to climb on the felled log.

The hall itself was abuzz with activity. Men and women milled around, some inside, taking advantage of the extra heaters that Min and Adam had apparently installed along the walls of the building. Extra toom and space was the order of the day apparently, as some of the assembled freefolk were helping to carve the logs that the two spartans dragged back. Twigs, branches, and other castoff chips of wood were collected and used in the fires that burned outside, roasting caught game and otherwise keeping the rest of the freefolk warm.

The sound of heavy footsteps, a fallen tree, and children's laughter drew the whole camp's focus, and a party of people gathered to welcome the newly returned spartan. The massive log was pulled over to a collection of others, and Adam dropped the tree with a massive thud.

Turning to another pile of wood, this one prepared and cut to be ready for construction. Adam pulled a large pile of the wood over his shoulders, heading towards what looked like a new wing to his and Min's project. Pulling out a variety of building tools from his pack, their teammate got to work in assembling the new wing. Wildling men and women milled around, though few approached their behemoth of a teammate, who towered over most of them in his armour. The children seemed far more willing to bother him, running around and occasionally distracting Adam with what they could only assume were various questions.

Tom and Lucy amused themselves with that for a while. Adam had always been something of a social butterfly, at least compared to other spartans. Captain Ambrose had once told them that Adam's general inclination towards social interaction was something approved of, especially since the captain himself was very much similar. Lucy had once wondered to the team; how much might have changed if they had had a less socially spartan in charge of their division, though none of them would ever trade their captain for any other member of the last generation.

For hours, Adam hammered and toiled away at the new wing, doing work in minutes that would have taken normal men hours to do. He lifted planks into place and hammered them down without pause and was only slowed when the physical limitations of his building materials forced him to. Pulling on the outer wall of the hall. Now even taller than Adam in his armour, their friend nodded his head and moved to sit on the newly brought in log. The wood, large and thick enough to hold even the armoured spartan, was not yet being worked upon, as another log was still being sheered by the freefolk. Adam twisted his helmet, disengaging the seals and placing it next to him before pulling out his canteen and taking a drink.

Tom felt lucy tap him on the shoulder, and turned to see her smiling, mischief in her eyes. She pointed down to where the camp was, getting Tom to readjust the scope he was looking through to match hers. Sitting around a fire, a group of wildling girls, looking to be in their early twenties perhaps, spoke together and stared at Adam. Tom couldn't help but share a smirk with Lucy, after all, they knew that look. Spartans in general tended to attract looks of physical attraction, no matter where they went. The far North was no exception, it seemed, as the entire group seemed to be giving their teammate lustful looks. Finally, one of the women with brown hair and green eyes, stood up, surprising the other women, and marched over to Adam.

The crumpling of snow under her boots seemed to alert their friend, and he turned his head from studying the unfinished sections of the wall and ceiling. The woman, small even by normal standards and so tiny compared to Adam, stopped in front of the spartan and simply stared, though it was almost a glare. Adam began to speak to her, though neither of the two could fully make out what he was saying, unable to read his lips from that angle. Suddenly, the woman reached out, trying to grab at the collar of Adam's armour. The spartans caught her wrists in his own hands, eyes narrowing into a glare. The woman just glared back, leaning forwards until she was nearly nose-to-nose with him.

Tom and Lucy watched, intrigued over what might happen next.

Suddenly, the woman closed the distance between their faces, even as Adam tried to speak to her. She leaned forwards, closing the inch or so of space that separated them, and locked her lips to the helmetless spartan's.

The two spartans watching the scene stared, then stared at each other, then went right back to staring at Adam as he was kissed by the girl. It seemed that this act had done the impossible, and managed to shock a spartan. Adam remained stiff and surprised for a few moments before he pulled away almost violently. The woman smirked, saying something quickly before pulling her hands from Adam's grip. The spartan made no move to hold on to her hands, letting them slip from his grasp as she marched back to the other women who were also staring from their campfire.

Disengaging from their scopes, Tom and Lucy stared at each other before Lucy's face broke into a massive grin.

'Well that was interesting.' She signed.

"That's an understatement." Tom shot back. "Any ideas?"

'Besides making fun of him for it for a week?' Lucy asked.

"Yeah."

'Not sure. He's not breaking any rule or protocols, We get our leave and baring illegal or compromising actions, we can do whatever we want.'

Lucy smirked.

'If he wants to spend his time messing around with the locals, that's his business.'

Long chapter, and I almost didn't get it done on time. Hope you guys enjoy. Council's done, Robert's on the throne, and we catch up with some of the other members of the story. Shiera and Delta company are fun to check in on, and seeing how Foxtrot is doing is always fun. We get to see some of the other ways that the Plataea and UNSC are interacting with the world, and a little surprise for one of them. Hope you all enjoyed.