Tyrion snorted as Beric shook him awake. Dawn had barely broken, but there was enough light that he could see Beric's anxious expression. The lights and sounds over Harrenhal in the night had kept every man awake and wondering, but Tyrion had downed an entire cask of wine to shut out the world.

"Wha? Huh?"

"The Red Priests need to see us. Hurry!"

Tyrion dressed hastily and followed Beric to the commanders' tent. The Red Priests seemed a wall of fire waiting for them.

Once the commanders had been assembled, Aldma stepped forward to speak, his voice grave.

"The Outsider has completed his ritual. The agents of his foul gods walk this world, and they have succeeded in securing a foothold in the heart of the fortress."

Mutters filled the air, but Parltro stood up, his voice carrying beyond the tent.

"But in his arrogance he has brought his own undoing. R'hllor, Lord of Light, Heart of Fire, God of Flame and Shadow, has told us this! The Abomination's forces now stand divided, his right hand now strikes at the left, and he can no longer marshal his full might against us! As was promised!"

Jon motioned for silence.

"Divided how?"

"He is no longer in sole command of his army. His forces now vie against each other for sole domination, to attract the favor of their vile gods."

A southern lord looked hopeful.

"So... we can just let them kill each other?"

Aldma shook his head.

"They are divided against each other, but every day that passes strengthens their forces overall, until they are united beneath a single leader, and when that happens... Worse still, there is a wound between worlds in the fortress, and the longer it stands the stronger they become as a whole."

"A wound?"

"A portal, a doorway leading to the realm of his masters and their minions."

Khal Goro looked up.

"Then they can send more of their unnatural forces through this wound?"

"Such is the danger. At present it cannot unleash its full horror on our world, but will engulf us if left untouched."

Harry Strickland looked horrified at the thought of what waited between the worlds, grabbing a tent pole to steady himself. Assorted suggestions filled the air.

"Then what? Storm the walls? We'll be cut to shreds."

"Maybe not. Harrenhal is damn hard to garrison at the best of times. Part of its curse."

"You think we could mount a diversion?"

"We'd need someone inside."

"We need more men."

"From where? The Reach has no one to spare, busy as they are fighting each other."

Grey Worm looked at Jon.

"The castle of your sister. The wounded we left there must be able to fight by now."

Jon started. Several lordlings looked less than happy at the idea, presumably having left comrades and family there to recover after the Long Night. Jon took a deep breath, and sighed wearily.

"I'll send word. Ser Strickland, how soon can we attack the walls?"

"Within the week. The trebuchets are nearly assembled, and I have carts scouring the surroundings for stone."

A single blow struck on the door of Akkarulf's room, interrupting his concentration and rhythm. He snarled in response, still intent on the naked form beneath him.

"Fuck off!"

He regretted it as soon he heard the voice on the other side of the door. Though the insolence seemed to have gone unheard, he felt no easier for it.

"Akkarulf, I'm going to need Bjarnhilda for while. Take out whichever of your extremities are inside hir that you want to keep."

Bjarnilda's arms unwrapped themselves from around Akkarulf's neck as s/he heard hir name spoken. Without a word to Akkarulf, the androgyne stood up, its form changing once more to become half-man and half-woman, put on what little clothing it deemed necessary and left the room.

Akkarulf was left sitting on the bed, sweaty, throbbing and distinctly frustrated.

The door of Cersei's chamber slammed open. She did not notice until the marauder thrusting into her mouth was suddenly pulled away and dropped unceremoniously to the floor. The one under her carried on.

"Take that thing out of your mouth when I'm talking to you, slut."

Cersei let out a moan while the Ironborn hastily pulled up his trousers and retreated from the room. The Wolf went on without pause.

"Important question for you: Outside the walls are a great many people uninterested in keeping you alive or happy, and your brother. The question, then, is this: do you intend to join them, throwing yourself upon their mercy, pleading your daughter's life as a defense? Or will you stay in the castle, no longer as a guest, but as a servant of the same masters I serve?"

Cersei was about to answer, but gasped and balled her fists as the marauder underneath her kept pumping into her bowels.

"Yeeeessss!"

"I wish I could say I was surprised."

Cersei gasped in pleasure then pain as the Wolf grabbed her by the hair and dragged her upright. Her legs were still shaking, but she stood firm once he let go.

"I get the feeling you weren't listening to me. Now that there's nothing in your holes and on your mind: Join me, serve the same masters I do, or I cast you out to let you beg for mercy from the Dragonqueen and those who follow her."

The Wolf said something to the other marauder, who fled the room as well. Cersei glared at the Wolf, still breathing heavily.

"No? You'd rather take your chances outside?"

The Wolf's glance slid casually to the cradle placed against the wall.

"Well, at least the survival of your line is assured, for now. I hear you've been a failure as a mother some four or five times now, maybe this one will finally reach adulthood? Bit of a false start to a dynasty meant to outlast that of the dragon-riders."

Cersei felt like crying as the barbarian casually yet relentlessly struck at her greatest griefs. She would not give him the satisfaction. To cover her face she rose and went to the cradle where her daughter had just awoken. Mirii chirped happily on seeing her mother.

"What do you know, she at least is glad to see you. So will those people outside, I should think."

Cersei could not keep the fear from her voice.

"What... what will become of my daughter?"

The Wolf grinned sardonically.

"Why, she will go with you, of course. Do I look like a man to look after children?"

The Wolf's expression changed for less than a heartbeat, then went back to its usual smug state.

"Unless you want to spare her whatever fate at the hands of the Dragonqueen, in which case I can arrange for her to be hurled from the tallest tower, or swing her head against a wall by the heels. Gets it over with much faster."

Cersei no longer hid her tears, clutching Mirii tightly. At last she spoke.

"I will."

"I thought you would."

The Wolf whistled sharply, and the door opened. The Wolf took Mirii from Cersei's hands and put her back in the cradle as Cersei looked in astonishment at the figure entering the room.

"Bjarnhilda will be your instructor in the ways of the Serpent from now on. Obey hir in all things, or I cast you out the gate without a scrap of cloth on you, since that seems to your favored outfit these days."

The androgyne stepped forward, its features flowing and changing into a picture of perfection before Cersei's eyes. The transformation completed, and she looked into the face of the one she had always loved.

The one she had always imagined when she was taken by men she hated, like her husband, or despised, like her cousin, or tolerated, like her brother.

Herself.

Willingly she embraced the apparition, who opened her mouth to kiss her. Cersei shuddered as she felt the tongue slide past her teeth and down her throat, buzzing and vibrating all the way. A burning heat filled her from head to toe, chills ran up and down her spine, and she surrendered entirely to the sensations engulfing her.