A reminder that I post in other websites that are far better than this relic that does not save my formatting. For the full experience, I advice looking me up on Questionable Questing under the same penname. I have character portraits!

This chapter was edited by Gladiusx.

25th Day of the 8th Moon

On the Rose Road

Garlan Tyrell

Ever since they agreed on the alliance with Tywin Lannister, the skies had been clear. Even now, the late afternoon sun was particularly scorching, and Garlan's doublet was damp with sweat. Some pious men would claim it was an omen of the Seven's favor. It was the height of summer, and such weather was the norm, yet that did not stop the men from claiming that the Seven were on their side to bless them with such good weather.

The men that Tywin Lannister brought to the negotiations were all ahorse, not even all of them lancers or knights, numbering a meager seven thousand. While that would normally be a significant amount of cavalry for a High Lord to bring to war, it paled to the full muster of the Chivalry of the Reach.

At least, it would be if most of said chivalry had not defected to Stannis.

The rest of the Westerlands army, consisting of eighteen thousand foot, were trailing behind their liege lord. There had been talk of marching both armies separately, but ultimately, it was decided that it was safer for both armies to combine before marching.

Thinking of Lannister's army, Garlan inspected the sprawling war camp as he made his way towards his father's pavilion.

They had left Bitterbridge a sennight ago, yet they had barely covered twenty miles. Ideally, on the well-maintained Rose Road, a well-supplied and disciplined army could travel twenty miles a day provided no mishaps occurred. Sadly, the reality was far more different, for they could barely average three miles a day! True, his father had intentionally set the army on a relaxed pace until the Lannister foot joined them, yet even if they were forced to march, they would be lucky to make ten miles a day.

It irked Garlan to admit it, yet the Reachmen were not disciplined nor particularly well-trained. Sure, he had complete trust in the knights and the veteran men-at-arms of the Reach, yet it did not bode well when many of them had defected to Stannis Baratheon or remained in their castles.

Ironically, Tywin Lannister matched them in numbers when it came to knights and free riders.

Still, as Garlan stared at the poorly lined tents of levies and men-at-arms, he frowned. While the Reach boasted of their heavy cavalry, their foot were not an inspiring sight.

Many were farmers, farriers, stable boys, and other lowly craftsmen, hailing from peaceful hamlets and villages along the Mander - forced into service as a levy and obligation to their overlord. They were not at all accustomed to conflict like their cousins on the Dornish Marches, who were conspicuously absent due to the need to protect their southern border. Every Reach Lord was only required to arm his levies with spears and shields and provide them with food and drink. Armor in the form of gambesons, boiled leather, or even a helmet were rare luxuries, and the men were expected to save up their pay to buy further protection or even a proper pair of boots!

Usually, that would be easy to acquire in plunder, yet the Reachmen had yet to participate in even a single battle after nearly a year of war. They had not participated in the Greyjoy Rebellion, aside from his uncle Paxter's fleet, and even during Robert's rebellion the battles were few and far between. No fathers to hand their swords or even daggers to their children, or even the odd chainmail sleeve that could survive years with good maintenance.

Even tents were a luxury, as Garlan stared at a score of men sleeping on the bare ground.

Only the men-at-arms were well armed and provisioned, as would be expected from the rich lands of the Reach. Yet, they were not plentiful, for much of the Reach had enjoyed peace for a long time - it was not cheap to maintain a constant force, and the Reach had famously paid their taxes to the crown in the form of grain instead of troops.

Except for the aforementioned Marcher Lords who were absent aside from the bare minimum. They were also the only force in the Reach that maintained a standing force of archers, yet the rest of the Reachmen disdained the use of the bow. Garlan might agree in that he would rather face his foes with sword in hand, but tactically, bows and skirmishers were crucial in battle.

The second son of Mace Tyrell sighed as he accepted the fact that their snail-pace would remain for weeks and moons to come. It was seven hundred miles from Bitterbridge to King's Landing if they followed the Rose Road, yet outriders report that the Kingswood was teaming with Stormlanders. Traveling through it would be a nightmare, and they would most likely need to divert their army north for the Gold Crossing… which was most assuredly heavily fortified by Stannis Baratheon, and that meant even more delays.

His lord father did not mind, for he was in no rush to attack Stannis' army.

"Why would we give him time to build siege lines and assault the city?" Garlan had asked him last night when he brought up their slow pace.

"Stannis won't be able to take the city so quickly, and even if he does, the Red Keep is a completely different monster for him to tackle." Mace Tyrell assured him as he ate his dinner, a juicy steak peppered with roasted vegetables. "If the men are brave and loyal, and the castle is well-stocked, then they could hold the Red Keep for months, even years, while Stannis gnashes his teeth in frustration."

"And if they are not? If they surrender to Stannis when he is standing outside the castle's gates?"

"Then Stannis would find himself facing a similar position when I sieged Storm's End." Mace shrugged as he drank from his goblet of Arbor Gold. "Now that we have confirmation that Tommen Baratheon was smuggled out of the city along with the released hostages of our kingdom, it would not be a major loss if Joffrey is killed by Stannis. Your grandmother had managed to unearth some unpleasant rumors about him. Dear me, the tales that some of our kin had managed to send! I fear for my dear Margery to forever be beholden to such a vile creature."

"Still, it would hurt our cause if the Iron Throne is in Stannis' grasp; the legitimacy he would gain from taking the royal seat could tip the scales of the war against us. He has the Royal Fleet at his beck and call. What stops him from bringing the Vale to his side and ferrying them with his fleet?"

His father paused, his face turning pensive. "That is a good point, my son. Regardless, it is not so simple for us to rush to battle, for Stannis is not the only king we have to fight."

"You are talking about Stark?" The Young Wolf was not so easily forgotten, even if plenty of men claimed most of his victories were due to some dark heathenry, though Garlan did not believe that one bit. Clearly, the young Lord Stark was as talented as his forebearers. The wolves of the North had a long martial tradition from before even the Andals came. To rule such a vast kingdom could only be done with a strong sword wielded by an iron fist.

"And Greyjoy as well. Heh, who would have thought the green squid heir would betray his foster home so easily? For now, we can thank the Seven that Balon Greyjoy is an utter fool; otherwise, we would be halfway down the Mander fighting reavers off our shores instead of warring with Stannis."

"Is that why Uncle Paxter has returned to the Arbor? To prepare his fleet in case the Ironborn start raiding our shores?"

At Mace's nod, Garlan understood what his father was telling him. They were not truly in a hurry to reach King's Landing. What awaited them under the city walls would be a terrible slaughter. It was wiser to conserve their strength and let Stannis waste his army on storming the well-fortified defenses while also keeping an eye on Stark and Greyjoy.

Tywin Lannister could not even complain, for it was him who was in a hurry and was losing the war to a boy younger than even Loras.

Still, a large part of him was miffed at the slow pace and lack of fighting. He dearly wished to prove his mettle in battle, to win glory and accolades for his House. Tales of Robb Stark beating host after host and earning uncountable loot and glory arrived with each message from the Westerlands. Garlan would like nothing more than to test his valor against the young wolf lord.

At least, they need not worry at all about supplies. Garlan had been in Highgarden with Willas when the land had begun acting…strangely. It began with minor things; flowers blooming brighter, bees prospering and providing more honey than usual, game flourishing in the woods, cows bearing more calves and milk, and the fruit trees bearing fruits off season.

Then, the harvest came. It was two moons early, yet it was still vast quantities as if the crops were allowed their full cycle to grow. What else could this be than the blessings of the Seven?

His belly was full, but his mind grew restless. Garlan strapped his sword and let his feet lead him through the camp. Perhaps one of Tywin's knights would prove a worthy training partner before the meeting came around.

"Ah, Ser Garlan! A good day to you."

Garlan turned to find the small form of the Master of Coin approaching him. He nearly frowned at the man's humble demeanor and warm smile; Loras had warned him the man was an opportunistic snake who would stab anyone in the back at the earliest convenience for any benefits.

"Lord Baelish." Garlan nodded politely, "A good day to you."

"Indeed it is a good day, with a bright sun and clear skies. Why, the Seven must be looking on our cause with favor!"

"I did not realize you were a godly man, Lord Baelish." Garlan continued on his way as the man joined him on the path to the pavilion.

"As much as any noble, Ser. The gods are a tricky thing. Proving your piousness might be impossible, but displeasing them is not something one should ever entertain."

This had to be the biggest steaming pile of horseshit Garlan had ever heard. The smile was warm, wide, and almost pious, but the grey eyes above it were cold and calculating.

Alas, Baelish was an influential man, and no matter how much Garlan instinctively disliked him, there wasn't much he could do. Still, that didn't mean he would indulge in his games of cunning and scheming. "Were you also called for the meeting?"

"Indeed, I noticed several riders arriving this morn on my way to meeting Lord Merryweather. News from the realm, I'm sure."

Garlan nodded silently. He knew about the riders, for he was the one to greet them while he was out on patrol. Messengers from the Westerlands and the Riverlands, as well as nearby castles with raven scrolls to his father or Lord Tywin. He did not need to be a genius to understand that the grasping Master of Coin had greeted him in an attempt to glean any sort of information before the meeting.

Petyr Baelish was supposed to be the chief negotiator of the Iron Throne, yet he had taken too long to arrive at Bitterbridge. By then, Tywin Lannister had ridden in with his significant force and wasted no time to strike an alliance. Baelish had been nothing but a tagalong that provided nothing of use aside from sycophantic quips or the occasional nugget of information.

Garlan saw no reason to do anything of the sort, of course. Truth be told, he would be more inclined to entertain the man with some random bit of news if he had just asked directly or if he wasn't dabbling in distasteful things like peddling pleasure and flesh…

They walked for a few more minutes. Baelish tried to engage in idle talk, but Garlan did not budge. The glaring sun above them did not invite friendly chatter.

Soon, they were in his father's extravagant pavilion, finding they were early - only a handful of nobles were here. His father was speaking to Lord Tarly at the head of the large table when he noticed him.

"Garlan, you're here. Come, join me, my son."

Garlan nodded and walked towards the empty seat next to Mace Tyrell, noticing his brother Loras standing behind their father in his resplendent enameled white plate engraved with roses, vines, and thorns of the now-defunct Rainbow Guard. He would retain his position as kingsguard once they were in King's Landing, yet Garlan could not help but feel odd as he looked at his brother. He was not present during the murder of King Renly, and there was a good deal of conflicting information about it, but one thing stood out that all the realm knew by now that he greatly disapproved of his brother.

The unashamed murder of two of his fellow kingsguard. Ser Robar Royce and Ser Emmon Cuy were noble sons of major houses of the Vale and the Reach respectively. Slaying them in cold blood over an ungrounded accusation and without a trial or even giving them a chance to prove their innocence…his grandmother had waved it off that Loras was in grief. Still, she seems to have forgotten the severity of such an act due to her old age.

House Cuy had denounced the act and demanded justice, yet even now, Garlan could not bring himself to punish his brother, even if his honor demanded it. Needless to say, there were no troops at all from House Cuy, and he shuddered to think what the formidable lord of Runestone would think over the death of his son. He had met Bronze Yohn in several tourneys, lost to him in every melee in fact, and Yohn Royce did not strike him as someone who would meekly take such a grave insult.

"Father, Lord Tarly." Garlan nodded to the two before taking the empty seat. "How fares your day?"

"Splendid, have an apple." A servant came out of nowhere and placed a fruit bowl in front of him. "We were just discussing the march so far."

Baelish stood awkwardly for a moment, as if waiting for his father to acknowledge him but aside from a quick nod, he was ignored. The thin Master of Coin kept his friendly smile as he sat beside Lord Lewys Lydden, striking a quick conversation with him.

They engaged in small talk until the rest of the lords arrived, Tywin Lannister entering the pavilion with his lords ten minutes later - the towering form of Gregor Clegane acting as his shadow as the Mountain moved to stand with the rest of the guards instead of taking a seat with the lords. More courtesies were exchanged along with fruits, wine, and finger foods, before the crux of the meeting got underway.

"Word has come from the Golden Tooth." Mace Tyrell began the meeting with aplomb. "Edmure Tully had taken the castle and wed Alysanne Lefford."

The news was quite the surprise for many of the nobles. It was barely a fortnight when they learned that Robb Stark was seen besieging the castle, yet it was Tully who took it? Garlan remembered the amiable Lord of Riverrun, a man who could have been his friend if not for their current situation. He did not strike him as a particularly gifted commander, but even if it was Robb Stark, none believed he would succeed in cracking the Tooth. Jests and japes were thrown around campfires as they wondered how the Young Wolf would take the castle when he had proven successful only on the field with cavalry superiority.

Perhaps he charged the walls down? He nearly chuckled before the table erupted into murmurs.

"How could the Golden Tooth fall so quickly?" Lord Lydden's eyes were wide, and he was already tugging on his sandy hair, "Ser Forley Prestor was in command and he had enough supplies and men to last a siege for nearly a year!"

"Edmure Tully had his men scale the cliffs behind the castle and rain arrows down at the defenders while his men stormed the walls." Lord Tarly said, his beady eyes glinting with what Garlan recognized as subdued respect. "They were too far up for the defenders to return the favor, especially when faced against the renowned Blackwood archers and their powerful longbows. They could do nothing but hide while Edmure Tully led the first charge up the ladders. He dueled Ser Prestor on the ramparts and defeated him, allowing his men to take the walls while Lady Leford barricaded herself inside the keep."

"And that vile man forcefully wed the Lady Leford?!" Lord Arthur Ambrose exclaimed, "I would expect such acts from the barbaric Northmen not from House Tully."

"Apparently, it was a negotiated surrender. She only had twelve men left while the rest surrendered. Tully gave his demands, and she agreed. She could either wed him or renounce her claim on the castle and be sent to her Lannister cousins in Lannisport." His father then turned to the stoic Tywin Lannister, "It seems the Young Wolf wants to annex the Golden Tooth into the Riverlands through that marriage as well as the right of conquest."

Many lords and knights murmured and muttered while throwing glances at the Lion Lord. It was yet another blow to the prestige and authority of the Lion of Lannister, and Garlan noticed several of the Westerlands nobles peering with disgruntlement when their liege wasn't looking. He was certain that the Old Lion had learned of the fall of the Golden Tooth days ago, yet he had kept quiet. With so many defeats, their homes plundered, their women taken, and half their manpower gone, to say that many of the lords of the west were displeased would be an understatement.

"So the entire siege and assault was planned by Tully? I did not expect that from him." Lord Crakehall grumbled as he folded his arms. "How did you come by such a detailed report of the siege, anyway?"

"The castle's Maester is a Reachman." Mace shrugged but did not elaborate, "As for Tully, he had his nephew and uncle to help him, I'm sure."

"Speaking of Robb Stark, it appears he had taken a paramour while he was in Ashford." Lord Uthor Footly gave a sardonic grin to Addam Marbrand. "Didn't your father surrender his castle to him without a fight? Did he perhaps give him his daughter as a farewell gift as well?"

"Why you–"

The heir to Ashmarke gritted his teeth as he prepared to stand, but a light cough from Lord Tywin had him calm down.

"Robb Stark had shown how little honor he has by taking a fair maiden's purity, then keeping her as his plaything." The Lion Lord spoke, and even after all the defeats he suffered and the ridicule given behind his back, when he spoke - everyone quieted. "He did not even wed the girl, who surely must be lamenting her misfortune, not to mention the grave insult he had given to House Frey whom he had promised them a queen. It appears the Young Wolf had not inherited his father's honor and resorts to his baser desires."

Of them, the young Baneford heir looked the most irked–his grandfather and cousins had fallen in the Battle of the Green Fork and the Camps, leaving him next in line. Some would celebrate the lordship that landed in their lap, but Garlan could tell the young knight looked particularly furious.

"Justice and retribution shall come for the Vile Sorcerer!" Tybolt Banefort's declaration was met with grim nods, and some even swore to see Stark to justice. Yet Garlan knew the words of such oaths given in the rush of young, hot blood would never last.

"All that is well and good, but that still does not stop the fact that the Westerlands are now completely open for a full-scale invasion." Alfred Estren, the young heir of Wyndhall following the capture of his father, Lord Regenard Estren, coldly pointed out as he stared at the rest of his fellow Westermen - Tywin's emerald eyes boring into the young lord's head but Estren did not care. "What stops the Northmen and Rivermen from sending their armies into our homes and razing it to the ground? Robb Stark had crippled our kingdom with barely five thousand men; with access to his full army… Do we even have any other forces in the Westerlands to stop them?"

"Ser Daven Lannister had sallied from Lannisport when news of the siege arrived, only to be ambushed by a Northern force led by Rickard Karstark." Lord Titus Peake informed the lad with a grimace, "My wife's family in Lannisport informed me that brave Ser Daven had managed to break through the ambush and charged for Karstark's position, managing to avenge his father's death, but was cut down by the vengeful Northmen. Barely a few hundred had returned to Lannisport out of thousands, and… I do not think your home has any more troops left, laddie."

So Robb Stark had just lost one of his most powerful bannermen? If Garlan remembered right, Rickard Karstark had lost two of his sons to the Kingslayer, while his heir was imprisoned in Harrenhal. Still, as the Westerlanders threw insults at the Reach Lord for implying they were weak, Garlan felt that things were going well for them. Both Tywin Lannister and Robb Stark were weakened, the former a lot more than the latter, yet Stark's situation was far more dangerous, especially after the wild rumors coming from the Capital turned out to be true.

Everyone had heard of the wild tale of Sansa Stark's escape, as well as the kidnapping of Princess Myrcella. News had arrived from the North; The Stark princess had wed her sorcerer savior in White Harbor. Such a powerful force of nature was best left in the North, while they secured their kingdom.

Garlan glanced at his father, who seemed to be enjoying his goblet of wine a bit too much, but his gaze did not move from the Old Lion. Both of them ignored the squabbling around them, none willing to show weakness in calling for their lords to calm down first. Garlan thought it was a silly game that the old men were playing, yet despite his desire to grab his mug of ale and bang it on the table for order, he was too dutiful to allow such an act of impudence when his father remained content.

Finally, after what felt like an hour but was most likely only a few minutes, Tywin Lannister raised his hand, and his bannermen were struck silent. Years and decades of ruling with an iron fist had ingrained discipline and fear in the Lords of the Westerlands whenever the Lion of Lannister spoke.

"Robb Stark will have other things to worry about instead of acting like a wildling, sacking and raiding our homes before stealing our women. His lords will not remain silent while the Ironborn are plundering their homes. Moreover, my son Jaime has escaped from Riverrun and joined with my brother Kevan in Maidenpool." Tywin Lannister's gaze roamed over his lords if pausing on the young Estren for half a heartbeat longer, "The Young Wolf has already overextended and will be forced to either return north to save his home… or not have a home, to begin with. Our focus shall be on the greater threat facing us; Stannis Baratheon."

The lords of the West still did not look overly convinced or joyful, yet there really was nothing they could do. Even if Lord Tywin allowed them to take their troops and return to their homes, they would only be smashed by Stark's veteran forces.

"Speaking of Stark, we must not forget the reality of our missing hostages." Surprisingly, it was Littlefinger who spoke for the first time in the meeting. All eyes fell on him as he lowered his head and gave a humble smile. "We have no leverage at all over Stark and the North. Sansa Stark is in White Harbor, wed to some foreign sorcerer, while Arya Stark is presumed dead. No matter how much the Ironborn raid and reave the North, they would never be able to truly threaten that vast kingdom, thus what we need, is another hostage to force Stark into the negotiating table."

"Oh? And whom would you suggest then, Lord Baelish?"

Undaunted by his father's seemingly innocent question, Littlefinger's eyes twinkled.

"The Queen Dowager of the North, of course." The words were so soft that Garlan could imagine Baelish's tongue dripping with honey. "I heard that Catelyn Stark had visited you a few moons ago as an envoy of her son, Lord Tyrell. She followed King Renly to Storm's End, but has yet to be seen ever since."

A foreboding silence fell on the table, as many lords looked at the Master of Coin as if they had just met him. Even Tywin Lannister had an inscrutable look on his face; almost grudging respect for bringing up a matter that none considered relevant.

Yet the more they thought about it, the more it made perfect sense. What better hostage against the King of the North and the Trident than his mother? Aside from the sheer disgust that threatened to have Garlan puke from truly entertaining the idea of kidnapping a noblewoman.

"I presume you know where Lady Stark is?" His father asked as he leaned forward on the table, clearly interested, much to Garlan's dismay - yet he remained silent, even as he clenched his fists under the table. "You would not have brought this up unless you had an idea."

"Indeed, My Lord. No doubt she desires to return to Riverrun, but with Lord Lannister marching his army south of the God's Eye, she must have been spooked. My sources tell me she has yet to enter the Riverlands, and I have sent my best men to track her in the Crownlands. Once she is found, we shall invite her to be our guest."

Littlefinger's proposal was met with easy, welcoming approval, as his father smiled widely and the rest of the nobles on the table murmured their support. Garlan couldn't believe his eyes, he thought for sure there would be others who would denounce such an underhanded method. Yet, even if there were, they remained silent, not wishing to risk the ire of their liege lords over a woman they did not know.

"I will send word to my brother to send hunting parties from Maidenpool in search of her." Tywin declared before gesturing for an aid to bring him parchment and ink. "More horsemen led by my best will travel from here as they scour the lands for Catelyn Stark."

"House Tyrell shall do the same." Mace snapped his fingers at another servant to give his orders. "The Heart of the Reach would be a far more suitable place as a guest for the mother of a king."

Many other voices of agreements sounded; lords and knights vowing they would succeed in such a mission if given the chance. Suddenly, everyone had become excited as if they were about to join a hunt for a rare animal - as if Lady Stark was but a trophy to be captured and whomever caught first would earn unending glory and fortunes. Garlan stared in both horror and incomprehension as some of the lords even entertained the idea of wedding the widow of Eddard Stark, claiming if her brother did the same to a noble lady of the realm, then she too should be prepared to receive similar treatment - even as they ignored Edmure Tully giving the Lady Leford the choice of safe passage to her kin.

He glared at the slender man who started this entire debacle - Petyr Baelish still had that easy smile as his now laughing eyes trailed over the rest of the nobles as if he found the entire situation entirely too entertaining.

Littlefinger suddenly stood from the table, drawing the lords' attention; no longer did the lords look at him with disdain or contempt, instead, they looked expectant as if he would conjure another scheme from thin air.

"My Lords, I have already promised my meager men to the hunt for Catelyn Stark, but I request leave to return to my lands." Several of the lords looked disappointed, even with scorn, that the man would decide to abandon the plot he himself proposed.

"You are the Master of Coin, if you wish to leave, you will have to relinquish your seat on the Small Council," came Tywin's cold reply, "Unless you have a pertinent reason for heading to the Vale?"

"Why I most certainly do, my Lord Lannister. It had been some time since I have visited my dear foster sister, Lysa Arryn, and I worry why she had not yet answered the Iron Throne's call to arms." His eyes trailed from Lord Lannister to his father before they settled on his own, and Baelish's smile grew even wider. "I am confident I can alleviate the grief she must still feel over the death of her husband, the late Lord Jon Arryn, and convince her to have the Vale join the war; provided I am there as an envoy of the Iron Throne, of course."

Garlan had not underestimated Petyr Baelish, his brother's warnings did not go unheeded. Yet it was then he understood that even with all his guard up, he had still unwittingly underestimated the small and slender Vale lord.

He truly was a dangerous fellow.

A*H*M

A cove along the headway of the Hartspear River

Asha

Asha Greyjoy watched as more longboats rowed up the river to their hidden cove, mooring at the makeshift docks they constructed over the past few weeks. Nuncle Aeron had returned to the Iron Isles to recruit more captains for Theon's plan, yet those were not ships from the Iron Isles. Asha had spent the last few weeks sailing up and down the western coast of the North, rallying the lone Ironborn captain who thought they could have better loot raiding the depopulated lands of the Stony Shore and Sea Dragon Point. A handful of ships attempted to make a landing on Bear Island, only for the savage women of that island to beat them off, losing Arrold and Uden's crews in the process.

It did not take long for her to find them and coerce them to join their endeavor. Nuncle Aeron had been sending them captains sporadically, yet her obstinate father had proven reticent in sending more ships for his son - especially when Victarion had besieged Barrowton and needed more ships to attack the town from the river. Even with Damphair vouching for him, few on Pyke dared to disobey their King, yet there were many other islands who had answered the call of the Drowned God's chosen - particularly from Orkmont and Old Wyk. Lord Alyn Orkwood promised twenty longships while old Lord Dunstan Drumm was finally roused with the assurance of the great loot of Winterfell and promised thirty longships.

It had been many weeks since that fateful day near the Wolfswood. Theon had managed to gather nearly two thousand reavers so far, including her own forces, and many of them were starting to grow restless as he had them wait in this cove that he claimed the Drowned God had shown him in a vision. Lords Orkwood and Drumm together brought another two thousand men, yet the lords themselves had yet to arrive. Their ships had trickled in over the past few days; however, Asha did not think they would have been eager to join the rest of the men waiting in this cove instead of out raiding or reaving.

Now, Asha was making her way to the top of the cliff, finding her brother gazing north. For once, he seemed calm, his eyes were no longer as bloodshot and he turned to her when she approached.

"Sister," He nodded before folding his arms as he continued his vigil north.

"Brother." She joined him, unsure how to bring up the men's concerns. It was strange for her to feel nervous around Theon, the same boy who did not recognize his sister a few moons ago and tried to flirt with her. Yet now, he seemed entirely different.

"What ails your mind, Asha." He suddenly asked, yet kept his eyes on the far north, where a storm seemed to be brewing.

"The men are getting restless. There are too many of them forced to hide here doing nothing but twiddling with their thumbs up their arses." Asha started slow, before she felt confident as her brother merely listened without interruption. "They want loot and salt wives, gold and good steel, thralls and hostages to ransom. You promised them all of that and more, yet we've been hiding in this damp cove for nearly a moon now with nothing but salted fish and garum for food and whatever game the men could catch without venturing too deep inland."

Asha took a deep breath as she vented her frustrations, her hand rested on her ax for comfort. Theon simply smiled once she was done, and turned fully to her.

"Believe me, I understand. I feel even more restless than any of them, it is like a storm is in my heart demanding that I go and take what I deserve. Yet, if my plan is to work, patience will be of the utmost importance."

"There is a limit to patience, brother."

"Indeed, yet know this; The Drowned God had promised me Winterfell, he only asks to wait until the time is right. Soon, something will happen in the far north, don't ask me how I know." He waved away the question before she could speak. "I just do. We need only to be patient and then… we shall strike."

She was not satisfied, and Theon knew that. Asha raised a single finger for him to see. "One week, that's as long as I can promise to keep the men in order. Any further delays will probably be met with a mutiny, especially when Lords Orkwood and Drumm arrive; they are not ones to suffer fools and delays. Do not say I did not warn you, brother."

Theon stared at her blankly, his irises growing larger, so large that she could no longer see the grey in his eyes. "Very well. Go rest, sister. You will need to conserve your strength."

Asha left her brother then, hoping that whatever it was the Drowned God had shown her brother would come true. In the end, it did not truly affect her, for if Theon proved to be a fruitless tree, that would only solidify her claim as Lady Reaper of the Iron Islands.

Perhaps she could join Nuncle Victarion in Barrowton?

Short chapter as we further transition from the wedding arc.

It is a fact of writing ASOIAF that there will be many povs and actors moving around in the background. I can't simply summarize every single event that happens, so chapters like this are necessary.

Every action has a corresponding reaction. In the books, Catelyn managed to sneak back to Riverrun through the Gold Road (I assume) but here, Tywin's army blocked the way causing her to make a detour.

Baelish… I don't think I need to say anything about him.

The butterfly effects are real guys. Expect even more in the coming chapters. Next chapter will be back North.

If you would like to read five chapters ahead, or simply support me, look me up on Patr(eo)n under the same pen name.