Robb VIII
As was now all too common his mother and Arya were arguing, about what he cared little about, no doubt something his mother wanted Arya to do and which she was violently opposed to. His little sister had turned up two moons ago in the company of Sandor Clegane, who upon seeing Lannister troops in Winterfell had growled "fucking Lannister's everywhere I turn, fucking Lannister cunts".
The Hound had stayed a few days, collected a reward from Robb for returning his sister to Winterfell and had promptly left, but not before having had one too many arguments with the Lannister forces still garrisoned at Winterfell. Said forces, unlike The Hound, had shown no signs of leaving anytime soon, and thus it was just as well that Winterfell was large enough to accommodate them. His mother, along with an increasing number of his Bannermen had become steadily more vocal in their opposition to the continuing presence of the Red Cloaks and Westerlander knights in the North. He was not altogether pleased with their continuing presence either, his raven to Kings Landing asking for the Lannister forces to be removed had been turned down by his good brother, citing the threat of the Wildlings massing beyond The Wall. Robb had taken this as an insult to his ability to defend the North and still bristled when he thought about it.
But the Lannister forces had proved their mettle when it had come to dealing with the Army of Stannis Baratheon. The Lord of Dragonstone who had crowned himself the King of the Seven Kingdoms had landed by Eastwatch by the Sea and had marched to Castle Black, before heading south, seemingly intent on taking Winterfell. But what Stannis had wanted in the North Robb could not, even now, fathom, weeks later. The Army of the last Baratheon had lacked cavalry and sufficient scouts, of which he and the Northern Army that had marched north to meet him had plenty. They had kept Stannis under close watch as he and his host had come south from Castle Black, eventually confronting him on terrain that suited Robb and his forces.
It had been hard fought alright, but in the end the outcome was never really in doubt, and afterwards it had been a rather harrowing time of dealing with the shattered elements of Stannis's banner men. Though many bent the knee or were dispatched back to The Wall to live the remainder of their lives as brothers of the Nights Watch, a disturbingly large number of the former Army of Stannis Baratheon had refused either option and had to be beheaded. Lord Stannis had been taken alive, cursing Robb for being a traitor and sullying his father's honour by bending the knee to a bastard King as he had been captured.
In the end though he had swung the sword himself that had taken the head of Lord Stannis, the man refusing all entreaties to bend the knee or take the black to the very end.
Of the Red Priestess who was supposed to consort with Stannis nothing was found, he suspected that she was still at Castle Black, though Lord Tywin had indicated in a raven that she should be left there for the time being. Also missing were the wife and child of Lord Stannis, apparently the former had killed herself and the later had been burned to death as an offering to the Lord of Light by the Red Priestess.
He wondered what his good brother wanted with the Red Witch, whose followers had mostly fought to the death and who had refused to surrender, the battle having been a bloody affair when all was said and done.
Lord Tywin...the man's very name was still bitter on his tongue, despite everything. The Red Cloaks and the Westerland knights he had been lent had been completely loyal to him, probably more than his own sometimes quarrelsome banner men, something that he was both surprised and annoyed by. These Westerlanders had never questioned any of his orders, and they did their duty to him without complaint or hesitation.
The unfortunate demise of the vast majority of the Freys meant that Arya's intended Frey match was no longer on the table, and the Northern Lords had not been shy about declaring that she would have to be married into the North, seeing as how Sansa had married into the south. His sister was having none of that, threatening to run away if she was betrothed to anyone, and generally making his mother's life a complete misery by point blank refusing to behave in a 'ladylike' manner.
And Arya had been scathing with him when she had learned of his marriage to a Lannister, barely even acknowledging his wife even now, weeks later after her arrival back at Winterfell. When he had tried to explain to Arya the reasons for him ending the War of the Five Kings her reply had been a brusque "you won every battle you fought, and you decided to surrender. Father would never have surrendered...." And with that Arya refused to hear more on the subject.
His mother had employed the services of a new Septa to teach Arya, it had ended in disaster when Arya had pulled a knife on the woman and cut the woman's face over something the southron had said to Arya.
His mother had been furious with Arya for this, but he was strangely ambivalent if he was honest with himself. Actually no, that was wrong, he was, if he was honest somewhat glad that Arya had done what she did. The tales his little sister had told of her adventures after escaping Kings Landing showed Robb that Arya was not some delicate Lady, and despite his mothers best will and intentions Arya would never be a 'Lady', at least not in the accepted southron sense of the word. Probably not even in the northern sense either, his little sister would have probably been better off born a Mormont than a Stark. But she would have to be married off eventually, a task Robb did not relish in the slightest. But he was proud of Arya when she had recounted her tale of how she outwitted the Old Lion in Harenhall, of how she had been his cup bearer and how she had spied upon Lord Tywin's strategy sessions.
Tywin Lannister....his mind drifted once again to his new good brother, and the missives he had sent recently concerning The Wall and what lay beyond it...
It, it troubled him greatly as Warden of the North, the talk of Wildlings massing under a King beyond the Wall, of which Lord Tywin seemed better informed about than him. Add to this the news that his half brother had been appointed Lord Commander of the Nights Watch, along with Jon's apparent wish to bring the Wildlings south of The Wall. He grimaced, the Umber's were in uproar, along with most of the Northern Lords when they had heard of Jon's plan, the Umber's just being the loudest and most vocal, as was their wont.
Jon had pointed out that the Gift and the New Gift were the effective 'lands' of the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch and as such his to administer and work as he saw fit. This argument had carried little weight with the Lords of the North unfortunately, but his good brother had intervened into the argument by supporting Jon Snow. Lord Tywin had sent out missives to him and all the Northern Lords stating the exact legal status of the Gift and the New Gift and that the Lord Commander was in effect the feudal Lord of these lands. In addition Lord Tywin had shocked many by his generous donations of food, clothing, arms and sundry supplies to the Nights Watch, amounting to more than the Crows had ever received in the last decade from the Lords of the North. The ships from Lord Tywin had already started to arrive at the Bay of Ice and at Eastwatch and were busy unloading supplies for the Black Brothers.
The Ironborn, though kicked out of the North with substantial casualties were not as yet defeated, but Lord Tywin seemed to be content to harass them with elements of the Lannister and Royal fleets, supported by the Reach's not inconsiderable naval forces. Which was equally strange, Lord Tywin was not the kind of man to let such a threat fester, especially right off the coast of his lands.
Not for the 1st time Robb wondered what exactly the wily Old Lion was up to?
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Sbiper, May 29, 2020Report
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SbiperNot too sore, are you?
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Varys IV
"This, this offer of Lord Tywin's....I am troubled by it, it, it does not make any sense....it looks more like a trap to me than anything else..." muttered Daenerys, her hand absentmindedly stroking the thin stem of her wine glass.
"Indeed your Grace" he replied, tilting his head to a small bow to the Targaryen girl, but as yet saying nothing.
The two of them, along with Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Jorah Mormont, Missandei and Grey Worm were in Daenery's personal quarters atop the Great Pyramid of Mereen, night was falling and Varys could see a spectacular sunset through the thin silk curtains that covered the large windows and doors that lead out onto the balcony that made up quite a bit of the pyramid at this level.
"Well?" Daenerys asked, seemingly to the room in general, but Varys knew she was asking her de facto 'small council' about what it thought.
"I can scarcely credit it your Grace" replied Ser Barristan, the first out of the traps as it where. "Lord Tywin is a ruthless and ambitious man, for him to make an offer such as this....well...it smacks of...well I don't know what it smacks of to be honest....." Barristan's words failing him and he fell silent.
"It's a trap, it has to be!" announced Ser Jorah vehemently "Wights!? The Others?! Does Tywin Lannister think us simple minded fools! Your Grace, this is a trap, one made more devious by its outlandish claims!"
"Hrmmm" was all Daenerys Targaryen said in response to her two male advisors outbursts.
"Tywin Lannister is the man I hold most responsible for the deaths of my kin and the toppling of the Targaryen dynasty, as such his life is automatically forfeit the moment I return to Westeros. And he must know this, but he makes me this offer, it's very outlandishness completely out of character for the man, if I am correct?"
At this Daenerys glanced at him, he inclined his head slightly and took the girls look as his leave to speak.
"Your Grace, before the Outbreak of the so called 'War of the five Kings' the Nights Watch sent one Alister Thorne to Kings Landing with supposed 'evidence' of the wights and the White Walkers. I saw this evidence, a half rotten hand that moved and skittered of its own accord, magic of course but not conclusive proof either way. However, Lord Tywin is neither a fool nor someone who is easily swayed by rumour or myth. The very fact that he states that he believes that the Others are real, that the Long Night is about to come again...from anyone else this would seem fanciful, incredulous, fantastical....but from Tywin Lannister?"
"He knows I will kill him, if not immediately, then when I ascend the Iron Throne, and yet he makes no entreaties for his life?"
"No your Grace, he only asks that his wife and children be allowed to continue the Lannister name, he, he is perhaps resigned to his fate?"
"Pah! If you believe that you are a fool Varys!" spat Jorah Mormont in response.
The gruff northerner, his former spy and a man whom he could destroy with ease, even if he had yet to establish himself fully in the trust of the Dragon Queen, was not someone who trusted Lord Tywin Lannister it seemed. Not that Varys blamed him one whit, but, and this was frustrating him greatly, he had failed to discover any obvious signs that Tywin Lannister's offer was anything but genuine. And that terrified him, Varys was sure that this offer was a trap, yet he felt it was not his place as yet to confirm this, for the annoying truth was he had no proof of Tywin Lannister's obvious duplicity, beyond the fact that it was Tywin Lannister they were dealing with. And so everything had to observed through the lens of how this impacted the Lannister's and their seemingly vice like grip on the Iron Throne.
"I knew Lord Tywin from my time in the Kingsguard your Grace" remarked Ser Barristan "he was perhaps the most able Hand in the last half century....a man not given to sentimentality or foolishness. He, he would not make this offer unless he was serious..."
"Or devious!" retorted Ser Jorah "I state it again, this is a trap your Grace, nothing more, nothing less!"
"Can he, can he deliver what he promises Varys? The Seven Kingdoms on a plate for me?"
"He can deliver the Westerlands, the Riverlands and the North your Grace, seeing as how Lord Tywin is linked by marriage to the rulers of said realms. The Crownlands has always been loyal to House Targaryen and would welcome a restoration. The Stormlands would, under the terms proposed by Lord Twin, come under the rule of Tommen Baratheon, the current King who would step down in favour of your Grace. The Vale is currently in something of a state of flux; its presumptive heir has rejected a marriage proposal for the hand of Lord Tywin's granddaughter. The Reach have tied themselves to the Lannister's, firstly to Joffrey and now via the proposed marriage of King Tommen. This may be problematical once the Tyrell's become aware of Lord Tywin's plans however...."
"The Tyrell's were loyal to my father, and yet they now ally themselves with the Lannisters?" asked Daenerys, an eyebrow arching to counterpoint her question.
"The Tyrell's, as Lord's Paramount, are not as strong rulers of their Kingdom as say the Stark's or the Lannister's are of theirs your Grace. They have long sought royal favour to give them an advantage over their powerful vassals" added Ser Barristan, his face neutral but Varys was sure he could detect the slightest hint of disdain in his voice.
Daenerys gave the Lord Commander of her Queensguard a glance before she asked him "Dorne and the Iron Born?"
"House Martell would support anyone who would support them in their quest for vengeance against Tywin Lannister. The actual murderers of Princess Elia Martell and her children, Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch were executed by Lord Tywin, as a sop to Dorne."
"And?" asked Queen Daenerys, taking a sip of her wine.
"Anyone who thinks that's the end of it is a fool!" Ser Jorah jumped in before he could reply.
Giving Ser Jorah a slight bow of his head in acknowledgement Varys continued "Indeed, the Martell's will not be satisfied until Lord Tywin is dead by their hands, preferably in the most protracted and painful of manners."
Yes, on that Ser Jorah was indeed correct; the Martells would not be satisfied until they had extracted their 'pound of flesh' from Lord Tywin himself. And speaking of the Martell's, their Prince and Princess had once featured so prominently in the plans he and Illyrio had hatched, but now? The girl he saw before him had never featured much in those plans, well perhaps tangentially, and only as a bride, either to increase the legitimacy of Illyrio's bastard who they had convinced Jon Connington was the son of Rhaegar, or to be wed to the Prince of Dorne. The Dornish Princess had been a backup marriage prospect for 'Aegon' if Daenerys had proven in anyway unsuitable. Her elder brother Viserys, well he had always been....expendable as far as they were concerned, for he had never been a pawn of theirs like Aegon. And as the boy's familial similarities to his late father had become more and more obvious, then his days and his usefulness become as numbered.
Politics and the delicate balance of keeping the Seven Kingdoms unstable but not collapsing, and the increasing need to finally decide upon which option they would pursue for a Targaryen restoration had to an extent forced their hand. Illyrio's contention that the brother and sister were actually less use to them than their 'fake Aegon' he did not totally agree with, but the Cheesemonger had acted anyway, sure that Viserys would remove himself from the succession by his own stupidity. Things had played out as Illyrio had expected, Viserys having gotten himself killed. And that should have been that for them, the girl should have spent the rest of her days as the brood mare for a Dothraki horse savage and safely away from the Seven Kingdoms. What neither of them had expected was Daenerys hatching Dragons, nor her conquering Slaver's bay with her Unsullied Army.
He had planned to go and meet Daenerys Stormborn for himself anyway, to see what he made of her, the last of the Targaryen's, and if she would make a decent Queen. For her birthing of Dragon's had thrown everything into, well, chaos. The Aegon that Illyrio had placed so much hope in now had a, well rather knotty case of illegitimacy – would what Targaryen blood he had in him be sufficient for him to be accepted by the Dragons? Illyrio was adamant that it did not matter; he on the other hand was not so sure about the Cheesemonger's confidence in this regard. For him it would come down to if this Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Breaker of Chains – as she styled herself, was a worthy Queen to sit atop the Iron Throne.
And that was indeed the nub of it, would the Mad King's daughter, and with three Dragons mind you, be a good ruler of Westeros? Oh she could probably conquer Westeros if she tried, enough Lords would flock to her banner as she had Dragons, the Crownlands en masse for one. The Dornish also, just to spite House Lannister due to its current grip on the Iron Throne. It might take another Harenhall or the Fields of Fire to persuade the rest to bend the knee, but they would eventually. But Daenerys might end up ruling the ashes, something he would be loathe to permit to happen, if he could prevent it.
"And the Ironborn?" asked Daenerys, dragging his mind back to the present.
"No one cares about the Ironborn" muttered Ser Barristan under his breath while out loud Varys stated "the Ironborn remain a conundrum for the Seven Kingdoms, forever testing the limits of the Iron Throne's forbearance your Grace...."
"I have Dragons Lord Varys, they will not test the limits of my forbearance....."
"Indeed your Grace" Varys replied smoothly, keeping his face neutral of any emotion, so 'Queen of the Ashes' it very well might be. He set his mind to making sure that this would not happen, and for that he had to make absolutely sure that he gained the trust and confidence of Daenerys Targaryen.
"So Lord Tywin offers me most of the Seven Kingdoms in return for me swearing to fight these so called 'Others' from beyond The Wall. He proposes that I bring my army to Westeros, to the North in fact, where he will, he says, present solid proof and evidence of these selfsame 'Others'. He makes no pleas for clemency on his part, nor offers any contrition or apology for the murder of my family and its overthrow from its rightful rule over the Seven Kingdoms. He swears he will bend the knee and asks only to be allowed to fight against the Others in my name, so long as his family is spared and allowed to continue as Lords Paramount of the Westerlands."
"That is the right of it your Grace" he replied, wondering for the umpteenth time if Lord Tywin was mad.
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Threadmarks: Melisandre II
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SbiperNot too sore, are you?
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Melisandre II
She had said the words "We beg the Lord to share his fire, and light a candle that has gone out. We beg the Lord to share his fire, and light a candle that has gone out. From darkness, light. From ashes, fire. From death, life." She had performed the rituals, the washing of the body, the clipping of hair to be burnt in the flames as offerings, the laying on of hands. And she had left that cold, dank room as depressed and defeated as she had entered it, with Jon snow un-risen and still dead by the hands of his former comrades.
But now? Now her body once more glowed with the warming light of her God, his burning presence banishing the chill once more. For had not Jon Snow risen indeed, and killed those who had betrayed him? She had asked for the lives of these traitors to be given to R'hllor, as a gift for the former Lord Commanders life, but Jon Snow had refused, instead hanging them, to her displeasure.
That was unfortunate, but of little consequence, for the flames in her quarters shimmered and danced in writhing passion, never before had she seen the flame behave so. Not even in the Red Temple of Volantis when scores of specially bred and trained slaves offered up their lives upon giant pyres to allow the priests to commune with the Lord of Light.
Wolves, Dragons and Lions danced and fought together against a howling darkness, an old Lion with two heads at the forefront, two russet haired wolves to either side of him, above them silver Dragons wheeled and screeched, unleashing unending streams of golden fire to banish the darkness. Ice and Fire met and clashed, merged and split apart, waves of dead men led by spectral, skeletal figures wielding long blades of crystalline Ice surged forwards, slaying desperate men with abandon. A figure wearing a crown of Ice strode forwards, menace and darkness clinging to him like a shroud, his face split into a hideous smile as he raised a sword of glittering crystal. Other visions danced and roiled, sometimes their meanings obvious, sometimes their meanings were confused or hidden, but all raged to Melisandre's sight with an ardour, a fervour she had scarce ever experienced.
Melisandre gasped as the flames suddenly blazed and then guttered, returning to normal, she inhaled massively, her lungs seeming to have forgotten how to breathe, gasping and heaving a she steadied herself. After a few moments she composed herself, her mind whirling and surging with the visions her God had provided her.
The Old Lion, that creature of two souls, that abomination before the Lord of Light.....she knew he was important but she had failed to see, or she had not been shown, how important he, it, now was. It seemed that the Old Lion had been playing a pivotal role in her God's plans, and whose actions had been partially shielded from her gaze in the flames.
But now? No, now she could see the works of this, this thing in all their multiform and nefarious complexity. Melisandre marvelled how the works of such a foul, lust filled beast were mostly in accordance with her God's glorious plans.
She arranged her clothing, having no longer any need for the heavy cloak or furs she had worn following the death of Stannis Baratheon, with a twist of thought she commanded the fire ruby at her neck to adjust her glamour. Her skin took on a more radiant, healthy glow; she admired herself in a small mirror, deciding that her teats could do with being a little larger and firmer. Smiling as her glamour responded to her will she departed her room, heading for the quarters of the Lord Commander.
She was admitted immediately, the Wildlings guarding the door shuffling away from her, fear and awe evident in their eyes, mayhaps future converts there to the one, true faith?
Entering the room she saw Jon Snow seated behind his desk, writing, he glanced up at her and stood up, coming out from behind the desk.
"My Lady" he intoned, his voice just the slightest bit shaky, for Jon Snow was still as yet weak from his resurrection, though Melisandre could see the fire of her Lords light burning inside Jon Snow, flickering and faint aye, but soon to blaze forth in glory.
"Lord Commander" she purred, tilting her body slightly to present her form to best effect, decades of experience in seduction and persuasion would guide her movements, the timbre and pitch of her voice.
"I, I am no longer the Lord Commander my Lady, I died, my watch has ended...." Jon Snow replied, sounding morose.
"And if such is the case, what will you do Jon Snow?" she asked her voice melodious and husky as she took a step towards the boy, yes he was still a boy despite everything she mused, and definitely a boy compared to her span of years in service to R'hllor.
"I, I don't know....leave here, go south....I don't know..."
"What if I told you that your place is here Jon Snow, that what you saw beyond The Wall is the very reason you were born in the first place?"
"What? What do you mean?" he replied, the words increasingly harsh as they spilled from his mouth.
"Your destiny is to fight against the Great Other, the beast from the outer darkness that threatens the realms of men. That is why you came back, I did not bring you back Jon Snow, R'hllor brought you back, brought you back for this reason and this reason alone."
Jon Snow glared at her but before he could respond she continued "your dealings with the Old Lion, his sudden interest in the Nights Watch and his provision of a ruling from the Iron Thorne legalising you bringing the Wildlings south of The Wall, why do you think he did this Jon Snow?" Melisandre asked, taking two steps closer to Jon Snow, noticing that despite his best efforts his eyes could not remain fixed on her face. Instead they rove over the valley of flesh that ran down the front of her gown, from her neck to her stomach, the swell of her teats pushing and tenting the material, their fleshy curves partially visible, enough she knew from long, long experience to entice and aflame the desires of any man.
"I, I don't know..." he stammered, taking a step backwards, but she took two steps forwards to stand mere inches from him.
Melisandre tilted her head to one side, pouting her lips slightly before whispering "because Lord Tywin Lannister knows about the Others Jon Snow, he knows what you know. The Old Lion knows of the Great War to come Jon Snow, and he knows what must be done, of the parts we all must play so that we may see the Dawn and not die under the pall of the darkness of an endless night...." These last words were whispered almost into Jon Snow's ear, as she had bent her head forwards so that her lips were mere inches from the boy.
She could sense the fire burning in the boy, his desire rising, feeding the flames, but she would not give him of her flesh, for this Jon Snow was meant for another and not for her. A shame that, for Jon Snow was certainly pretty enough, and young enough and thus more able to bear the price of fuelling her magics, unlike Stannis whose essence had been drained beyond her expectations by fathering the shadow that had Killed Renly.
Just then there was a knock at the door and she stepped hurriedly back two paces, a sultry smirk on her face.
"Wh...What?" stammered Jon Snow, his voice stammering and hoarse.
"A raven Lord Commander!" announced the voice from the other side of the door. "From Kings Landing, it bears the seal of the Hand of the King!"
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Think an SI into Ned Stark with a Homo Drakensis twist sounds like fun? Well the Black Wolf [NSFW] is the story for you then!
What would you did if you woke up in Westeros and discovered you had been subjected to an enforced gender change? See the adventures of The Littlest Lioness for all the delightful details...
Ever fancied being Tywin Lannister? Well now you can find out, courtesy of The Lion in Winter
Sbiper, Jun 12, 2020Report
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Threadmarks: Jon I
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Jon I
"Hold it! Hold it down! Tighten its bindings!" he bellowed, fear and exhaustion roughening his voice.
His brothers, though was he truly still a broth of the Nights Watch, was he really still their Lord Commander, seeing as how he had died? He thrust these thoughts from his mind; he had no time for these ruminations now.
His party of Brothers and Wildlings struggled with the dead thing, as it hissed and screeched at them, they had managed to throw a net over the ragged, magic animated corpse and were attempting to bind it further with chains and ropes. Around them the remains of the party of dead things that they had ambushed lay scattered around, mostly dismembered and thankfully no longer animate.
They had marched out from Castle Black nearly a week ago, Crows and Wildlings, at his behest but really at the orders of the Lord Hand, Tywin Lannister. Lannister's might be famous for paying their debts but Jon Snow knew also knew how to honour debts. For Lord Tywin Lannister had become the most generous supporter that the Nights Watch had ever known, sending a torrent of goods and gold north to them for the last nigh on six months. The Brothers ate food sent from the south and paid for by Lannister gold, wore good, warm clothing from the mills of the Westerlands and were armed with plate, chain and swords produced by the Lannister's and shipped north in quantities the Nights Watch had never seen before.
And so when the latest raven from the Hand of the King had asked him to capture one of the dead creatures that roamed north of The Wall Jon Snow had known that despite his own fears, he was duty bound to carry out the Hand's request.
After Hardholme he had feared returning north of The Wall, like all his men who had witnessed the attack led by the Night King and his Army, and he had dreamed, nay, he had nightmared many's the night of that battle.
And so despite his fear, and he was sure the fear of his brothers and the Wildlings, they had ventured north of The Wall, to find and capture a wight to bring south to show all of Westeros the threat that lay in the frozen north. The missive from Lord Tywin had been quite specific – he believed in the existence of the wights and the Night King, and he understood the threat they represented, but the Lords of Westeros required proof positive. Hence the request for a 'live' wight, though in truth was it really a 'request'?
Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King, Hand to a bastard King if the rumours be believed, and husband of his half sister Sansa....
Before he could muse anymore there was a cry from his men and he whipped his head around. Out of the shrouded forest more of the dead things were running and stumbling, screeching in that terrible, hideous way of theirs. Drawing Longclaw he gestured to his men to form around him, the only way to fight these things was in close order, not letting them swarm you. Black Brothers and Wildlings drew their weapons, spears and maces tipped with Dragonglass, another gift from Lord Tywin, along with the advice that Valyrian steel, fire and Dragonglass would kill the monsters from beyond The Wall.
The nauseating wave of undead corpses rushed at them, headless of anything except getting as close as possible to them so as to drown them in numbers. The first of the corpses were upon them in seconds, and the brutal fight for survival began. They had just managed to kill the twenty or so dead things that had been with the wight that they had captured; now they were facing what looked like hundreds of the things.
Jon hacked and stabbed and slashed with Longclaw, his mind blank of anything but his next strike and when to twist and sidestep a rusty blade or axe. Around him the men of the Nights Watch and the Wildlings fought desperately, any who fell were stabbed with dragonglasss by their comrades to prevent them rising as wights.
But the sheer numbers of wights was telling, more and more of his comrades fell, and the little band of living men was compressed into an ever smaller space.
He wondered idly if this was where he would fall, and only hoped that someone would stab him with Dragonglass so as to prevent him from rising as a wight. As this thought crossed his mind a blossom of fire burst behind the wall of wights, a pitiful screeching wailed from the wights that had been engulfed in flames.
A cloaked rider on horseback emerged from the gloom, swinging a chain with a ball of fire on its end. Wherever this fiery ball touched the wights they would burst into blazing, roaring flames, consuming them as they flailed and screamed.
Jon let out a roar of defiance as Longclaw whirled and stabbed in his hands, desperation born of terror driving him onwards to kill as many of the wights as possible. His companions were of the same mind, screaming and hacking at the dead tide with equal fierce and frantic blows.
And then with a shocking suddenness Jon realised that there were no more dead things in range of Longclaw, he sucked in a huge breath of freezing air, stinging his nostrils and hurting his lungs. Around him the last of the wights were being dispatched by the Black Brothers and the Wildlings, he kept Longclaw in his hands as he turned to look at the figure atop his horse who had so aided them in defeating the dead things.
The stranger was cloaked in black with his face hooded and concealed behind a scarf wrapped around his head. From his right hand hung a long chain, at its end some sort of brazier burned with yellow/white flames. He rode atop a huge black horse, who stamped its hooves in what seemed to be annoyance as the stranger turned the beast towards him.
Jon stood his ground as the black garbed stranger drew closer, holding Longclaw at the ready, he barely notice Edd and Tormund move to his side, their weapon also raised.
The great war horse stopped before them, Jon noticing that the golden flames of the brazier at the end of the chain guttered and died. The stranger reached up and pulled back his hood and lowered his scarf.
"Uncle Benjen!" Jon gasped, recognising the man revealed before him.
"Hello lad" his uncle responded in a strange voice, more akin to a harsh and guttural whisper than the voice Jon remembered him speaking with.
"First Ranger!" blurted out Edd "are we glad to see you!"
"No doubt Ed" replied Benjen Stark, what was probably meant to be a smile tugged at his uncle's lips, but to Jon it looked more like a grimace. In fact the more he looked upon his uncle, the more Jon could not help feeling that there was something wrong with his uncle. The pasty white skin of his face, the strange way the pale light seemed to reflect flatly in his eyes, this unnerved Jon if he was honest.
"I came at the behest of someone who is anxious to meet you Jon Snow" said Benjen, raising his left arm to point to the tree line behind them. A figure clad in Wildling furs emerged, pulling something behind them, as they got closer Jon realised the figure was a girl.
She halted a few feet away from them and then pivoted to show the sled like contraption she was pulling behind her.
"Hello Jon Snow" said a fur wrapped figure on the sleigh.
"Bran!" exclaimed Jon Snow in amazement.
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Think an SI into Ned Stark with a Homo Drakensis twist sounds like fun? Well the Black Wolf [NSFW] is the story for you then!
What would you did if you woke up in Westeros and discovered you had been subjected to an enforced gender change? See the adventures of The Littlest Lioness for all the delightful details...
Ever fancied being Tywin Lannister? Well now you can find out, courtesy of The Lion in Winter
Sbiper, Jun 21, 2020Report
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Threadmarks: Robb IX
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SbiperNot too sore, are you?
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Robb IX
"I can scarce believe this...." muttered Rob, staring at the letter on his desk, the man who delivered this missive, Ser Davos Seaworth sat opposite him but said nothing.
The so called 'onion knight', once a confidant of Lord Stannis said nothing in response, holding his counsel, which annoyed Robb slightly if he was honest.
Ser Davos had rode south from The Wall with a letter from his brother Jon, whose contents were for Robb's eyes only, at least for the time being. Accompanying Ser Davos had been a rag-tag bunch of Black Brothers, former soldiers in the Army of Lord Stannis and Wildlings. This ensemble, almost as unbelievable as the message they bore had been granted passage through the North to Winterfell by a letter of safe conduct signed by Jon as Lord Commander of the Nights Watch.
"I would not have believed it either my Lord, had I not seen the things I have seen....."
Robb glanced up at the former smuggler, his flea bottom accent still evident in the man's voice, noticing the small pouch that hung from his neck, which was reputed to contain the finger bones from those which Stannis Baratheon had taken from him in punishment for smuggling.
Stannis Baratheon.... a stubborn, uncompromising and, if he was honest, a rather unlikeable man, going from his admittedly brief encounter with the rebellious Lord. Which had ended with Robb taking the head of Lord Stannis, who had refused to either bend the knee or take the black, instead stubbornly insisting to the end that he was the lawful and legitimate King of the Seven Kingdoms. And Robb was inclined to agree with Stannis on this point, but the time for challenging the Lannister grip on the Iron Throne was long past, he was a loyal Warden of the North, bound by golden chains to the Lannister's, chains of blood and coin.
"Hmmmm" grunted Robb in reply; he had seen the 'thing' that the men had brought with them, a so called 'wight' and had been horrified by it. Robb had also shown the wight to his mother and wife, along with the rest of the senior staff at Winterfell, just to make sure that they knew what they were now facing. As Jon had urged him he had sent out ravens to all the Houses of the North, those that the party had not visited on their journey south to Winterfell had been commanded to make all haste to Winterfell to see the wight for themselves.
"This is why Lord Commander Snow", Robb noticed the slightest of catches in the smugglers speech when he said his half brothers title "let the freefolk past The Wall my Lord. They would all become like that thing, soldiers in the Night Kings Army of the Dead....."
"Hmmmmmm" replied Robb. Why was this happening now, of all times? He felt like laughing at the absurdity of it all. He had fought to reclaim his father's life, then when that failed his father's honour. He had lost a crown and married into the family he and all the North held most responsible for the death of his father and the subsequent War of the Five Kings.
And now, to top it all, the Long Night was returning! He thought to scream at the monstrous injustice of it all, and to top everything it seemed that his goodbrother Tywin Lannister not only seemed to know of this threat already, but was actively aiding the Nights Watch to prepare for the threat of these 'Others' as they were oft referred to.
For the rest of the day Robb pondered and fretted, terrified about what was to come and the monstrous responsibility now cast upon his shoulders and upon all those who knew of the return of the Long Night. At dinner he was morose and sullen, unwilling to engage in any sort of conversation, brooding and letting his morbid thoughts spin and tumble in his mind.
"Robb!"
"Huh? ermmm, oh, sorry...." he mumbled, seeming to see his wife's emerald eyes for the first time as the hovered close in the light of a single candle.
"You have not been listening to me..." she purred, a smirk quickening her lips as she lay half atop him in their bed.
"No, ummmm....I've, I've a lot on my mind Cerenna, sorry..."
"My Lord husband is the Stark in Winterfell, the Warden of the North; he had best get his mind back to where it belongs!" Cerenna mock hissed at him, before her face turned serious. "Septon Ronard is going to be a problem."
"Oh?" he asked, suddenly very interested in what his wife had to say "I wonder how he could be even more of a problem?"
The good Septon had joined them in the Riverlands, attaching himself and a Septa to their party as it had travelled North. The Septa, a sour faced hag was the same one that Arya had cut in a fit of anger, had at least had the decency to leave Winterfell after this incident.
Septon Ranard on the other hand, was determined to make a nuisance of himself, seeming to rely on his mother's patronage and protection to generally cause insult and annoyance wherever he went.
Robb had already had to bar the man from the Godswood, and only his mother's pleading had stopped him from ejecting the meddlesome priest from Winterfell altogether. The good Septon seemed to think it was his life's mission to convert the North from its 'heathen ways' and was not shy about pursuing this goal. The presence of so many Lannister troops, most of them adherents to the Faith of the Seven, whom the Septon was careful to minister and preach to, seemed to make the man ever bolder in his pronouncements and preaching. Robb would not be in the slightest bit surprised if the Priest would be found dead some morning, probably with his throat slit at the feet of the great weirwood tree.
"He has been preaching against the....the wight, saying that it is an affront to the Seven and a thing of foul, northern magic, a trick to 'sway the faithful from the light of the Seven'....to quote his evening sermon from yesterday..."
"He's, he's seen the, the thing, how the fuck?" Robb spluttered in reply.
Cerenna just gave him a thin smile in reply "the fanatical believe what they want husband....he has come to me to ask....no, ask would be the wrong word...to instruct me that it was my duty to get you to order the wight destroyed. And that if I did not my soul would be cursed forever...."
Robb's anger flared and exploded, he could hear nothing but a roaring in his ears, that southern cunt, thinking he could 'order' his wife about, the Lady of Winterfell and the mother of the next generation of Starks!
He went to rise from his bed, his rage all consuming, grabbing his clothes and hastily putting them on, barely noticing that Cerenna was also dressing herself, shouting for his guards to assemble and be ready for him.
Storming through the halls and corridors of Winterfell Robb ordered his men to carry out the tasks he wanted, his fury having cooled enough to enable him to think coldly, clearly.
Striding though the night he and his men came to the cells and to his rage he came across the Septon, his mother and a small contingent of Westerlander soldiers outside.
A cooling breeze seemed to waft through his mind as he announced "take Septon Ronard into custody, any who resist are disobeying the direct command of the Lord of Winterfell."
"Robb!" shrieked his mother, making to stand in front of the Septon, who was brandishing a torch, along with several others of the party.
"That includes my Lady mother" he hissed, noticing his mothers face suddenly go slack with shock.
"You are making a mistake boy" snarled the Septon "that thing is an affront to the light of the Seven and deserves to destroyed! A foul product of northern blood magics and sorcery! Its presence corrupts your very souls!"
The Septon continued wailing as he was manhandled away, the small crowd of his supporters putting up no resistance. Robb barely noticed Westerlander Officers and Knights arriving, who took charge of their errant men, disarming and binding them.
All marched with Robb to the Godswood, the Septon's screams about their souls being cursed echoing off the walls and buildings of Winterfell, his mother plea's equally shrill. But Robb listened not to either of them, his mind set, his heart hardened to what he had to do.
Reaching the Godswood and the ancient Weirwood at its heart, Robb gestured with his hand, indicating that the Septon be bound to it.
"Robb, please...." his mother sobbed "don't do this...."
"Listen to your Lady Mother boy, what you plan to do will damm you all for eternity. You are a madman!"
"You come to my home, my Castle, preach against my gods, try and destroy the evidence we have of the return of the Long Night and threaten my wife...."
"Blasphemy! You speak blasphemy, that thing has poisoned your minds, you are gripped by madness, MADNESS!" The Septon shrilled, his voice going hoarse from the sheer effort he put into his screech.
"Madness?" Robb asked, his voice quiet in the sudden silent aftermath of the Septons scream. He gazed around him, seeing grim resolve on the faces of his men, fear in the eyes of many of the southerners. He sought his wife's face, noticing with some pride that she was a grim faced and stoic as the rest of the northerners, her eyes met his and she gave him the slightest of nods.
He turned back to the Septon "Madness? THIS. IS. WINTERFELL!" he bellowed, drawing his sword and beheading the Septon in one single, brutally swift stroke.
Turning away from the slumping, headless corpse he announced "those men who chose to follow the Septon and threaten the Peace of Winterfell have but two choices – join the Septon in the afterlife or take the Black. Lady Catelyn will be confined to her quarters for the time being, that is all."
All of the westerlanders who had followed the Septon decided that life in the Night Watch was preferable to an immediate death, they were hustled away and the crowd began to disperse, none paying any head to the body of the Septon, nor the blood splashed scarlet across the pale bark of the weirwood.
Soon there was only Robb, Cerenna and a handful of guards remaining, Robb noticing the pride and strength in his wife's gaze as it held his. A small shape detached itself from the shadows, his sister Arya, dressed like a boy as usual and with her hair haphazardly cut short, most likely by her own hand with a knife.
"Well done brother" she announced coldly, turning her gaze to Cerenna "and you my lady, not too bad for a southron" before she dashed off into the enfolding darkness.
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Think an SI into Ned Stark with a Homo Drakensis twist sounds like fun? Well the Black Wolf [NSFW] is the story for you then!
What would you did if you woke up in Westeros and discovered you had been subjected to an enforced gender change? See the adventures of The Littlest Lioness for all the delightful details...
Ever fancied being Tywin Lannister? Well now you can find out, courtesy of The Lion in Winter
Sbiper, Jun 27, 2020Report
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Threadmarks: Olenna III
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SbiperNot too sore, are you?
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Olenna III
Well now, was this not the most fascinating of news Olenna Tyrell chuckled to herself, sitting in her favourite spot in the gardens of the Red Keep and enjoying the view out over Blackwater Bay. Strong sunlight sparkled on the waves, dazzling splashes of pure white light reflecting off the azure waters. Despite the Citadel announcing that autumn was upon them the weather in Kings Landing had yet to change, the days were as bright and as hot as ever, the nights muggy with the stored heat of the day seeming to bleed out of the very stones of the Red Keep.
The smell was still the same, the Red Keep still stank of the wastes of the half a million citizens of Kings Landing, though thankfully the hill upon which the Red Keep was built allowed the breezes off the Blackwater to carry away the worst of the stench. But the plotting and scheming were still the very same, in fact Olenna was sure that this had to be the most exciting time to be alive, it was only a pity that it had come so late in her life, when she might be removed from the Great Game by the whims and foibles of time and age.
She wagered that not even the end of the Mad King was as interesting as the time she was living in now, though maybe less lethal....though that was debateable.
At least things were kept to the shadows and overt violence was kept to a minimum, as much a sign of the Old Lion's iron fisted rule as anything else she knew. But now? Well the Great Game was definitely afoot once more, of that she was absolutely certain!
She was surrounded by her gaggle of clucking hens, mostly the daughters of bannermen sworn directly to Highgarden, some also acted as handmaidens Margaery. As to her granddaughter herself, the girl was sitting and chatting amongst them; Olenna caught her eye and beckoned her over.
"Grandmother" Margaery said in a level tone, her eyes cool and unreflective. Good,by her tone the girl knew that serious business was to be discussed.
"Child, have you managed to get the boy kings cock inside you, mouth or cunt? Cunt would be better of course...."
"Grandmother!" hissed Margaery, her face a picture of shock and surprise but Olenna knew the girl was playing a mummers game.
"Oh hush now, there are no 'little birds' close enough to hear us now, well?"
"No, not yet I'm afraid. He is guarded constantly, and Lord Tywin keeps him busy morning, noon and night. He spends nigh on half each day with his uncle sparring and practising his sword work, the rest in study with the Maesters, with his Grandfather or in Court. The poor boy has scarce a minute to himself."
There was something of frustration to be heard in her granddaughters voice, but Olenna put it to one side "you will cease in your attempts to seduce the boy King my dear."
"Yes Grandmother" replied Margaery, her gaze asking the question that she was too clever to ask with her mouth.
"There are changes in the Great Game afoot my dear, changes that mean House Tyrell should no longer be seen as being too close to House Baratheon and House Lannister."
"The Targaryen girl...."
"Indeed, this Danerys Stormborn has set the cat among the pigeons my dear" she chortled; proud that Margaery had gotten straight to the matter.
The Seven Kingdoms were not to slumber peacefully under the reign of the Old Lion and his grandson, of that she was now certain, but as to what the Old Lion appeared to be planning? Well she suspected a trap, or at the very least some nefarious scheme to hobble House Tyrell, or at the very least to enhance the power of House Lannister.
Or was it, that was the question now was it not? Her spies had finally been able to ferret out some small titbits relating to the plans of the Old Lion. Ever since she had discovered the severed head of her best agent in the Red Keep in her bed, after she had sent him to silence Petyr Baelish she had spent much effort to regain adequate sources of information. The warning from Tywin Lannister that the severed head had represented had been greatly appreciated by her; she knew that she would have to exercise extreme caution when dealing with the Old Lion.
But then, in her long, long years of life she had come to understand one salient truth above all else. To know your opponents motives was to know them as well as they knew themselves. And the Old Lion's obsession was with his legacy, and so she supposed she should not be surprised by what she had just learned. And if what her agents reported about the Lady Sansa were true, that the girl was carrying the first of the latest generation of Lannister's in her belly?
Well then Tywin's actions made even more sense in that case, did they not?
But, but the sheer gall of the man, to think that he could get away with it! But then nobody ever accused Tywin Lannister of lacking balls, why the man must verily clank when he walks, his stones made of brass, to match his neck she mused.
Reaching out to the Targaryen child in Essos and offering her the Iron Throne on a plate! With the price being the survival of his House, and probably his own mangy hide to boot! And what of Margaery's marriage to Tommen then eh? At best she would be the Lady of the Stormlands, if at all.
The Targaryen girl had three dragons if rumours were to be believed, along with an Army of Unsullied, and some assorted mercenary riff raff, more than her famous ancestor had, though his dragons had been bigger she had to admit. She also had Varys, the former Master of Whispers and Ser Barristan Selmy, sure to be able to provide the girl with sound enough advice about Westeros and its various Lords, Ladies and factions.
And just what should she do in response to this most amazing of rumours then? Well for a start they were no rumours though; the sources that had relayed this information to her were ones she trusted, so she believed them at face value. Most important was to make sure that Mace did nothing precipitous or stupid, but she repeated herself. Now to the nub of it, what should House Tyrell do to advance its position and ensure survival?
"But not only that my dear, it appears that out Lord Hand has been in contact with the Targaryen girl, who styles herself the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Not only in contact, it appears that Lord Tywin is offering her the Seven Kingdoms on a sliver plate!"
"No doubt in return for his life" Margaery slyly replied, sotto voiced.
"That man is far too clever for his own good, he is bound to come unstuck sooner or later, but yes, Lord Tywin intends to trade the Iron Throne for his life and that of his family."
"I hear she has Dragons, this Targaryen girl, our would be Queen?"
"She does indeed, young dragons yet, but dragons nonetheless. And an Army of Unsullied and sellswords, plus Dothraki savages."
"A pity her brother is not still alive....." Margaery said softly, her face set in a determined look.
"Her brother was a madman by all accounts, no, we've had enough trouble with mad Kings and Joffrey....."
"She is unwed, this Targaryen girl who styles herself our Queen?"
"She is...." replied Olenna, looking smug.
"So would that make Willas King or Prince Consort?" Margaery asked, her mouth twisting into a mischievous smile.
"Your father will probably huff and puff but I'll offer her Willas as her Prince Consort, and the Great Council be dammed. House Tyrell remained loyal to the Dragons to the end; it's time we made that loyalty pay off."
"And me?" Margaery asked, her voice light and innocent sounding, but Olenna knew her granddaughter well, she could sense the concern behind her words, see the worry behind the perfectly composed mask of her pretty face.
"You are my favourite Margaery, do not worry, your chance will come my dear, of that I am sure...."
For if this Daenerys was to be crowned Queen it was best that House Tyrell stood square behind her, for who could trust the Old Lion eh? He was sure to try and murder this Targaryen girl was he not? And when House Tyrell was able to show conclusive evidence of the Old Lion's murderous plans, well then...she could see rains weeping over the halls of Casterly Rock.
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Think an SI into Ned Stark with a Homo Drakensis twist sounds like fun? Well the Black Wolf [NSFW] is the story for you then!
What would you did if you woke up in Westeros and discovered you had been subjected to an enforced gender change? See the adventures of The Littlest Lioness for all the delightful details...
Ever fancied being Tywin Lannister? Well now you can find out, courtesy of The Lion in Winter
Sbiper, Jul 9, 2020Report
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Threadmarks: Tyrion XVII
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SbiperNot too sore, are you?
Joined:Feb 6, 2018Messages:459Likes Received:45,847