Adrian

"So we'll take this path here, away from the King's Road," Yoren stated, pointing at a well worn map that rested on a tree stump. It had been made from leather and rather than being inked it had been stitched, every river and forest and path in Westeros. Adrian had never encountered such a thing and Yoren had laughed at that, stating that the time to make such a map meant most lords had no interest getting one made. When campaigns were supposed to last a few months at most there was no need for a map that required skilled hands and at least two years to be born.

"But we are the Night's Watch," Yoren had told them, "we are eternal."

"Why avoid Bruckwood Hall?" Adrian asked.

"Noticed that, did ya," Yoren asked though it honestly wasn't a real question. "Heard tell that Ol' Ser Preston Tilldown has gone raider. He wasn't happy with the Riverlands declaring for the North as it is; always said that he should have been a Stormlander, even though that would mean carving up far too much of the Riverlands in order to get to his keep. The War cut off supply chains for a while and he refused the help Ned was a given… from what I heard he saw it as a betrayal to the Crown and if he refused Stark's help then the Lannisters would look upon him favorably."

"They wouldn't," Adrian said with no judgment. Unlike many people in Westeros the Lannisters hadn't been the ones to cause him problems. Honestly working for Lord Tywin had been rather pleasant. "A man who isn't even a Lord waiting on aid rather than asking for it? How would they know?"

"I never said Ser Preston was smart. With both sides refusing him he has decided to go raider. Invites merchants and the like to come dine with him-"

"And has his raiders attack them a few days later, after he's found out what they are carrying," Adrian said, rubbing his chin in thought. "He'd have to be careful… couldn't hit every one or news would travel too quickly. And probably sends out hunting parties to take out other raiders so he can claim that he's fixed the problem. That also gets rid of the competition."

"Hmm, sounds about right."

'Yeah, because that's how I would have done it,' Adrian thought to himself. He'd have made a few changes though, such as having the raiders trail the merchants to the next estate and attack them after that… would mean that goods had to wait longer but it would also allow the scheme to last FAR longer than what Ser Preston was up to.

But he didn't mention that little fact to Yoren.

"So you think he'd attack us?" Adrian asked.

"We have bodies," the Night's Watch Wanderer stated. "Thieves and such. He'd want them to replenish his men and they'd be desperate to join up."

"Which is foolish," Adrian stated, causing Yoren to look at him. "A thief perhaps… depends on what they stole. One that's made a life of it not because of desperation but fun? No… you wouldn't want that. Can't trust them. Rapists are just wild dogs and should be put down. But a boy who stole some bread or defended his sister's honor? Yeah… they would work. But if Ser Preston is gathering literally anyone then the problem is going to become something else real soon: him killed and the raiders going full marauder lords."

Yoren stared at him for a long moment before letting out a laugh. "God, you are going to have the Lord Commander kissing you when you show up! We don't have enough tactical minds up at the Wall."

Adrian smiled at that. Unlike everyone else Yoren was taking towards the Wall he was the only one looking forward to it.

Natasha Stark had offered him the ultimate out. A way to stick it to the Tyrells now that his ability to take true revenge against them was gone. Even Mace Tyrell, in all his power, couldn't defy the Night's Watch. Doing so would have him be seen as a man spitting in the face of tradition. His dungeons would never be emptied save for the headsman getting their axe and those that had committed petty crimes wouldn't feel the need to surrender if they knew their only choose was the noose. If the Tyrells decided to house and feed to prisoners during their stay, especially during Winter, it would eat away at supplies that the smallfolk needed. Their bannermen would be enraged at it, as the Night's Watch had been an out for many of them when it came to clearing their lands of criminals but not having to actually deal with the aftermath of the captures. And the Faith would come for them, for they had long ruled that the Night's Watch was an honorable way for the pious that had lost their way to redeem themselves. A murderer that was taken to the block would be doomed to the Seven Hells but one who spent decades defending the realm? They could wash away their sins through hard labor, something the Most Devout were all for.

So Mace Tyrell was stuck. Adrian was free.

And honestly… he was enjoying greatly his time so far.

The first day that he had met with Yoren the man had flat out told Adrian that he would be treated differently than the rest of the recruits.

"You actually want to be here," Yoren had told him. "All the rest of this lot only came because it meant keeping a body part or their lives." He'd gestured at the cages that held snarling madmen who threatened to kill anyone that got near them while at the same time demanding they let them out. "This lot… if they think they have a chance they will run. You though… if you run that's your choice. Plenty of men have volunteered to join the Night's Watch only to realize it wasn't for them. There's a bit of shame in it, mostly if you're from the North, in going back on your word but honestly the Lord Commander would rather have a dedicated man than one who is constantly looking back. So, since I can trust you… I'm gonna use you."

And he had. Adrian had been made Yoren's second in command, tasked with keeping the line moving, ensuring their supplies held up, helping hunt for food, getting the camp organized, and keeping everyone in line. After Adrian had helped capture a rapist who'd tried to flee the second night Yoren had used him even more, letting him into his plans and teaching him just what his role in the Night's Watch entailed.

'I would like being a Wandering Crow,' Adrian thought to himself. 'Stark wants me to become Lord Commander and I'll do that… but nothing says I have to become it right now. Jeor Mormont still lives, after all, and the man might live for another decade.' He glanced around the camp. 'This… its no different than the boys. Find a group that don't normally work together and teach them how to be a team. Weed out the bad ones, get loyalty out of the good.' He smiled. 'Heh… why didn't I think of this sooner?'

Looking over the map Adrian pointed towards the very center of it. "How much trouble will we have in the Riverlands?"

"From the people? Depends on the lord and how smart they are. There are no Lannisters in this group so we are good… Ned Stark hates the Lannisters. Violently so." Yoren paused. "You hear about the Battle of White Stream?"

Adrian shook his head. "No, though I might have… King Joffrey was pretty clear that he wanted to name all the battles himself, as he refused to have the North dictate even the names of them."

"Heh, that sounds like the Royal Prick." Yoren spat out on the ground and Adrian ignored him; Joffrey had caused him no problems but also hadn't given Adrian anything either so he wasn't going to get fussy with people cursing out the dead boy. "So the Battle of White Stream had Ser Ormon Lannister and a whole mess of his cousins leading raiding parties against the edges of the Northern Host."

"Ormon… I've heard that name," Adrian muttered. "He's the one with the screwed up finger, right?"

"Yeah, that's the one. A real piece of work. Said that he only got made a knight because Lord Tywin owed a favor to his father. Barely a Lannister too… I think he can trace himself back to the main line but its… aw fuck, I don't know." Adrian chuckled at that, pulling out a water skin and taking a drink as Yoren laughed. "Point is, he wasn't dining with the king and all that. Not that he didn't act like he was. Pompous shit. You know the type."

"Oh, I do."

"So Ser Ormon and his cousins are all making themselves annoying little shits to the fringes of the Northern Army. Doing petty things that make war all the harder… spoiling wells, setting fires, leaving rotting carcasses about so that all manner of insects show up. The annoying things that make marching all the worse." There was a sudden commotion and the two looked up but saw it was just some of the recruits having decided to do arm wrestling.

"I'll take a wager with anyone: I'll dig the next shit hole if Big Tom loses!" Adrian called out, getting a cheer from several of the lads.

"You're going to lose that bet," Yoren said.

"I know," Adrian said softly. "And I'll do it with good humor. I've found that lowering yourself to their level, from time to time, and showing you can have fun and take your licks will breed loyalty."

"Hmmpf," Yoren said though there was a twinkle in his eye that spoke of approval. "Anyway, Battle of White Stream. So Ser Preston-"

"Ormon."

"Right. Ser Ormon. Too many fucking Sers today. No offense."

Adrian smirked at that. "None taken."

"Anyway, Ser Ormon and his cousins, they are getting a bit too bold… you know how that happens. You get some small successes and suddenly think that you can charge against an army, all by yourself, and slay them all. Like all those shit stories they tell pampered little lordlings who won't actually see battle because its too important for them to survive. They keep managing to avoid the hunting parties that were sent out to find them and Ser Ormon feels like he's invincible. Now, I can't for sure, because I sure as fuck wasn't there, but from what I hear-"

"Which is probably been already embellished to the Seven Hells."

Yoren laughed, pointing right at Adrian. "You are fucking right there! But from how I've heard it about half a year back, right after the wedding at the Twins, Ormon decides that he wanted to try his luck hurting the supply routes. Nothing too fancy… just wanted to sneak in and take out a bridge. Wasn't even a big one… on a good day you could easily get across it. But with winter coming the waters will be getting too cold for that and I guess the banks are going to flood over and make it harder on the horses. The North would still be able to get across but it would eat up their time. So Ormon gathers up all his men and goes out in the middle of the night to tear down the bridge. They all dress in leathers, so they'll be nice and quiet, and the plan was to remove some boards and all that then burn it from afar with some Lannister Spirits; otherwise known as taking some high proof ale, shoving a rag in the bottle, and lighting the thing before giving it a toss. Thing is… the Northern armies knew they were going to go after the bridge. Someone talked… or a scout spotted them staring at it. Who knows? Point is that when they arrived the Northmen were ready."

Yoren smiled, leaning over the map.

"And at their head was Eddard Fucking Stark himself."

Adrian had never met the man but he'd heard enough about him. Before coming to King's Landing it had been boasts of Mace Tyrell that he could have defeated the man, had he truly wanted to hold Storm's End, but the war was over and he had already been deciding to break the siege when Stark had arrived. All knew that he had been King Robert's dearest friend… and those who saw beyond the songs of tavern bards knew that he had been honored poorly by his friend and his goodfather after the war, receiving nothing but the bones of his family for his efforts.

In King's Landing the man's name seemed to be on everyone's tongue. The Smallfolk whispered that Lord Stark, despite all signs showing he was merely settling in to rule his chunk of the Seven Kingdoms, desired the Iron Throne. That he would come and he would tear down the Sept of Baelor where he had lost his eldest daughter and in its place he would plant a giant wierwood that would cover the entire city under its branches, so that it would be eternal dusk. He would outlaw the Faith and force them all to follow the Old Gods. That whose that refused would be sacrificed to his dark gods, their blood frozen to create a Red Wall that he would use to build a new Wall in the far north.

The Lannisters and the court had more sense than that but their opinions of him had been wildly different. The Queen had dismissed him as a fool, claiming that any success on the battlefield was because of thefailures of their own armies and not anything Stark had actually done. She would brazenly tell anyone who listened what SHE would do and more than once Adrian had listened in with amusement as she detailed battle strategy that would get everyone on her side killed. It was… honestly impressive how stupid she was when it came to war tactics while being so confident in such stupidity.

Joffrey had just wanted Stark dead. Would rant about how he had declared he would die and how dare Stark 'defy his King's command'. Any losses they took were lies because he was the King and kings did not lose battles. His father had never lost a battle was his excuse… and when Mace Tyrell had pointed out that he had defeated Robert once the boy had sputtered before claiming he must be thinking of a different Robert, something the Fat Flower hadn't pressed.

Pycelle thought Stark skilled but too cautious. Baelish a fool that would defeat himself any day. Varys that he had changed from what they knew and they all needed to be careful.

That… had been the opinion of Lord Tywin as well. Though he never said it out loud Adrian had spied the battle plans hung in his solar, the worry that the man would hide when a new message would arrive of a loss.

Stark was dangerous.

"Ser Ormon drew his sword and commanded his men to attack but Stark just stepped forward and raised his hand. There was a burst and a wave of heat and suddenly there was a ring of fire around him and the Lannister forces. He was dressed all in black with just the weirwood tree upon his breast, the white of it making it look like a skull. Ser Ormon demanded to know what he desired… what ransom they would need to pay to be free, for he already had gold so that he could just pay off his own ransom right there. But Stark? He never raised his voice… and that was the worst part. The Fury of the Wolf King. And the Lannisters discovered why this man, who had never lost a single battle in the Rebellion, had chosen to remain in the North: He was being kind."

Adrian nodded. He'd heard that little statement many times in the taverns of King's Landing. 'They used to say that about the Lonely God,' he thought to himself, amused.

"The first Lannister got scared… or brave… or stupid. Honestly it could have been all four. Whatever it was he suddenly rushed forward, screaming like a madman, swinging his sword about. Stark threw a dagger right into his throat and he went down hard, drowning in his own blood. Three went after him after that. Stark drew out a short sword and cleaved the arm off one before kicking another to the ground; the hit was so hard it nearly caved in his chest. The third actually was able to put up a fight… for all of 20 seconds before Stark lopped off his head, stabbed his sword through the mouth, and flung it back at Ser Ormon like it was a cabbage. The fallen Lannister got his own sword driven through his belly for his troubles, the blade going 6 inches into the ground and pinning him like a butterfly on a maester's board.

"Ser Ormon and his cousin Raymund were the last to face him… tales differ on the size of the party they brought with'em. But they were the last. Raymund was a big fellow, and because there were always rumors that his mother had cuckold his father there was some that called him The Hill. You know, like The Mountain. Course no one said that to his face… anyway, doesn't matter anymore. Only thing he's called now is 'that corpse' because Stark at that point finally took out Ice and met his first swing. Shattered The Hill's sword and sent pieces into his face, blinding him. He began screaming and running around and fell right into the fire, burning up. And Stark… Stark was mad. Because there was only one thing in this world that could calm the Wolf's Blood that was now singing in his veins and that was dead Lannisters. And he'd been robbed of killing The Hill so Ser Ormon was going to have to pay the price. He toyed with him for an hour, hacking off little pieces of him. A finger here, an ear there. And if Ser Ormon tried to stop fighting Stark would hack off something else and grind dirt into the wound until the man lifted up his sword."

Yoren blinked.

"How the fuck did we get talking about this?"

"Hell if I remember."

The two laughed.

"Go check to make sure those idiots didn't cut too much firewood. I hate leaving waste behind and we'll be moving tomorrow."

"Right," Adrian said, getting up off the ground and brushing off his pants.

It was a good life, traveling with Yoren. If the cold didn't agree with him up on the Wall he would consider working towards becoming a Wandering Crow. It would be interesting, traveling Westeros. He could gather up people that weren't just criminals but who just needed something new and different and far away from where they found themselves trapped. Boys that were beaten by cruel fathers. Smallfolk stuck with moronic knights and lordlings ordering them about. The South treated the Night's Watch as a joke and honestly Adrian had felt the same but knowing now what was coming? That the fate of the world was rushing towards them? Well… he had wanted to be a part of something and this was his chance.

It almost made him losing to the Spiders worth it.

'Almost,' he thought with a dark smirk, shaking his head.

"Adrian."

He stopped, half leaning over a stack of wood (and no, the fools had finally learned their lesson about doing too much work for no pay off), and glanced about, trying to figure out just who had hissed his name. Or if anyone actually had. Bryan One Ear swore up and down that the woods they were traveling through were haunted by the Children of the Forest who would call out a man's name to lure them away so they might eat their tasty livers. Adrian normally would have scoffed at that but he had flown on fucking dragonbone wings and fought flying knights and spider people so he wasn't going to dismiss that bit of insanity out of hand.

"Adrian!"

The voice was a bit louder, a bit more insistent… and a lot more familiar.

Ambling over Adrian couldn't help but smirk as he looked over the portly little man trying to hide behind the trunk of a large old oak.

"I'd heard the Children of the Forest were ugly…"

"What?"

Adrian just shook his head. "It was a joke, Phineas."

His oldest friend shot him a dark look. "Ha fucking ha. You should have become King Tommen's jester with that wit."

"But then what would you have done?" Adrian asked, folding his arms over his chest and flashing his friend a smirk. "You can't tumble, that's for sure. I've seen you drunk… you more flop like a seal on the beach." He considered him for a moment. "Do you jungle?"

"Maybe. Why don't we get the fuck out of here and I can show you."

"Come into the camp and we can have some dinner. I'm sure Yoren won't mind." He paused. "Fine, he might mind but if I hunt for an extra rabbit to make up for your share he won't say boo. And if you have any supplies that would go a long way to help out."

Phineas let out a chuckle that wasn't mirthful at all. "Yeah, sure, I'll get right on it. Now come on, let's get moving."

Adrian frowned and didn't move even as his old friend turned and began walking away. "Phin… what do you think is happening right now?"

"I'm getting you the fuck out of here."

"That's great. I could leave whenever I wanted."

"Uh huh, yeah, sure. Just… just keep claiming that. You can thank me later."

"I'm serious."

"I am too. I've been hiding out in the shadows for the last three hours waiting for you to sneak away." He gestured at the forest. "I thought for sure a wolf would get me or something."

"They have better taste."

Phineas finally turned and glared at him. "You are being rather mean to the guy busting you out of this mess."

"Phin, I don't need busting out."

"Yeah yeah, you would-"

He finally grabbed his friend and forced him to turn towards him. "Phin!" he snapped, giving him a shake. "Listen to me: I wasn't captured. I wasn't arrested. This wasn't forced on me. I… I chose this."

"…what?"

Adrian sighed, letting go of the shorter man. "Listen to me, okay? Listen good. The Spiders beat me. They beat me and I was down and out. And then the red head, Lady Stark-"

"The Viper's daughter, the Black Widow?" Phineas asked. "She was there? Some of the boys who managed to escape mentioned that but I thought they were delusional."

"No, she was there and she is in up to her neck in things even I don't understand. Working for some big people. The point is… I cut her a deal. You and the boys get off scott free. Whatever coin or goods we stole? They are yours. In exchange I got to the Night's Watch."

"You just said you weren't forced into this," Phineas pointed out. "That sounds a lot like you being forced into something."

"Yeah, yeah, it might but it really isn't," Adrian assured him. "Listen… there are things going on North of the Wall. Bad things. Things that are going to mean that even if we ran we'd never be able to truly outrun them. Even if we never stopped. And Lady Stark… she has connections. I volunteer to join the Night's Watch and she's gonna get me a plum assignment. Wants me to be the next Lord Commander." Phineas screwed up his face at that and Adrian shook his head. "Trust me, this is the best deal for all of us. The Tyrells? This was a fucking kick in the teeth for them! They can't go against the Night's Watch. They'd have everyone coming at them from all sides if they tried and pulled me away. And with the North and the Riverlands in the way it would be hard to do so anyway. And hey, nothing says I have to instantly become Lord Commander. No one knows how long it will take the fucking Others to show up so I have plenty of time to be a Wandering Crow. Eat good food, sleep in castles… heh, I might just make visiting Highgarden my first stop."

Phineas gave him a long, steady look. "The Others."

"Don't get on me, I flew just a few weeks ago!"

"Oh, believe me Adrian, I'm not getting on you for that."

He stared at his friend for a moment, puzzled by that little comment, but then quickly brushed it aside. "Honestly its no different than what we did with the boys. These guys… they had a rough turn and I can help them out. Teach them things. Alister Thorne is up there… you remember him, right? He's a prick but him and I work well together. He can be my new hammer and I'll be his new glove. We can whip these boys into something special. I think… I can be happy with this."

Phineas let out a sigh at that. "I… really wish you hadn't said that."

"The boys will get over it. I know they arranged a rescue party-"

"No, not the boys," Phineas said, cutting him off. "It was just me. They thought it was suicide trying to grab you. So I worked on it and worked on it… till our new benefactor found me."

"New benefactor?" Adrian asked.

Before Phineas could answer… the screams started.

Darting like a stag during a hunt Adrian rushed back to the camp, leaping over brush and trees before the roots of one gnarled old sentinel caught his foot and sent him crashing to the ground. He groaned, pulling the wet leaves from his face, and looked up to find that the fall had sent him tumbling into a world of madness.

Parts of the clearing where they'd made camp were burning, with trees crashing down even as he got his wits about him. The camp fires had been abandoned, allowed to grow in intensity, as the new recruits ran about in a panic, no sense of order able to be brought to them. Adrian could see why: the cage that had held the most foul of the recruits, the rapists and the murderers who had spit curses and threats at everyone from the most timid of thieves to Yoren and Adrian themselves, was on its side and its bars reduced to slag. Within lay several glowing skeletons, the bones blackened even as the stringy remains of flesh and the roasting organs lit up every crack and hole and crevice in them.

There standing in the middle of it all, holding Yoren by the throat, was a monster.

It stood like a man. That was the only thing that made the creature before him vaguely human. Completely silver it was far too slim to be a man in armor and that was ignoring the fact that the plates that made up its form moved in a way that would have shredded any person that tried to wear it. It was huge too, nearly 8 feet tall, with glowing red veins that pulsed in a rhythm of madness along its body. The head was like that of some demonic insect, with a wide leering mouth and a set of mandibles upon its cheeks. It stared at Adrian from a long time before finally turning back to Yoren, who struggled in his grip but it was clear to all that was due to utter terror.

"Ah… I see Phineas found you," the creature said, holding out his hand. "And you already know to kneel to your king. Good… good! He said you were a smart one! Oh, we are going to do so much, Vulture King."

Adrian slowly got to his feet and shot a dark look at Phineas, wondering what the fuck he'd gotten him into. His friend, for his part, made a small bow before scurrying over to the metal man's side.

"Now now, I can see on your face," the creature stated, wagging a finger at him. It was almost… playful... in how it wiggled that digit back and forth. "You are upset that he let slip that secret. You shouldn't think so cruelly of your friend. He didn't tell me a word. He was loyal." The creature let out a light chuckle. "I found it all out on my own. You learn so many things when you are dead."

"D-dead?" Adrian got out, hating how his voice trembled.

"Oh yes. The secrets I came across. Jon Stark is the Centurion… my money was on Tyrion Lannister's sellsword friend so color me surprised! And of course that means Tony Stark is the Iron Man. Those three children… Petyr and Gwen and Miles… they are the Spiders. Oh if I had gotten to them first…" The creature let out a wistful sigh. "I only stuck around King's Landing, mind you, as I worried if I drifted to far the Seven Heavens would be awaiting my innocent little soul-" And Adrian could tell that even the monster didn't believe that statement, "-but when I found out about this armor that was just waiting for a spirit to take it over? Well…" the helm began to retract, revealing the ghostly form of a familiar face, "who was I to resist?"

"Lord Baelish," Adrian got out.

"…I like you, Adrian of the Tombs," the phantom said suddenly. "Oh, I very much like you. Its King Baelish now but you can be excused for not knowing about my title change. But you still show me respect. Yes… yes I think Phineas is right. We can do SO much together."

There was a pause and Phineas began to rapidly speak. "He knows about us… what we did. About the wings and the Shocker gauntlets and all that. He says he needs our help, Adrian… and the rewards…"

"You wanted to escape the Tyrells?" Baelish asked. He clicked his tongue in disapproval but Adrian found himself thinking for one mad moment that it should be impossible for a ghostly tongue to make a 'click'. "That's the coward's way out. Now, I get why you are thinking like that… I did too, back when my goals were so very small. But now I know… the true way to beat your enemies is to utterly destroy them. To tear them apart, burn the bits, and then scatter the ashes to the seven winds. You want revenge of Mace Tyrell? I will give you all of the Reach. Your's. And he will watch as you turn his daughter into your whore, his sons into your sparing dummies, and his mother into a corpse." Baelish paused. "I admit none of that is very creative, standard conqueror fare. We'll think of something better.

"The point though is… I am a King. Power goes to the strongest and I am now the strongest in Westeros. But… I need my Small Council. And you, Adrian of the Tombs… are going to be part of that. Not the first… well, not the first I selected but the first to know about it. And the most important role!"

Baelish smiled and Phineas tossed him a set of thin metal gloves.

They were like… nothing Adrian had ever seen. Thin, flexible. They moved like silk but he knew at once they were are strong as steel. He glanced up at Baelish and the man stared back with an eager smile on his face and, deciding he didn't want to anger someone that could reduce people into burning skeletons, slipped the gloves on.

"Think wings," Phineas said.

Adrian did… and his eyes went wide as from the gloves rapidly grew metal feathers that spread from his wrists up to his shoulders. He flexed them and moved them and found that while they shifted similar to his old wings there was a power there that the other ones, even being enchanted dragonbone, couldn't match.

"Phineas is such a wonderful mind," Baelish stated, answering Adrian's unasked question. "And being dead I discovered so many secrets. Together… we are making miracles. And we want you to help us." Baelish took a step forward, dragging Yoren along with him. "Adrian of the Tombs… I name you Hand of the King."

He paused.

"Or should it be Wings?" He chuckled at that.

Adrian swallowed and bowed his head. What else could he fucking do? Say no? "Your grace."

Baelish nodded before his voice grew chipper. "Now then, we must really be off. Let me just clean up…" His helm reformed and his mouth began to glow, the air wavering around it and at once Adrian knew what was about to happen to Yoren.

"Your grace!" Adrian shouted, stepping forward. Baelish snapped his head towards him and Adrian flinched but pressed on. "I ask for one more boon!"

"Someone is getting greedy…" Baelish warned.

"Yoren and the recruits. A king needs a court and they can serve."

Baelish considered that.

"It would be good to have some hands to help," Phineas whispered.

"…very well," Baelish said with a casual air, as if he hadn't been seconds away from melting Yoren's face. "Bend the knee."

Adrian was next to Yoren instantly and pulled him up. "Fucking do what he says."

"I'm not an idiot," Yoren hissed back, the Crow kneeling. The recruits who hadn't fled at once fell to their bellies, foreheads pressed to the ground all around Adrian and Baelish.

"Well…" Baelish said, bemused, "come on now… we have WORK to do!"

~MC~MC~MC~

OMAKE

Tywin sighed as he sat in his solar. "Kevan," he said, head dropping down, "do you realize if I had died today there would be no one to carry on my legacy? Now I have no one to give my enormous fortune too."

Kevan cleared his throat.

"You, brother?" Tywin asked. "No… I've planned a far greater reward for you." He motioned Kevan to follow him over to a table where a small replica of the tomb Tywin wished to have made for himself was. "When I pass on," he said, reaching into the tiny tomb and pulling out a coffin, "you will be buried alive with me."

He opened the tiny coffin to reveal a doll that looked like Tywin, lying in state, and Kevan… screaming in terror at Tywin's feet.

"Oh… goodie," Kevan said with a swallow.