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Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper by DeadlyMaelstrom711

TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Drama & Romance, [OC, Sansa S.] Daenerys T., Jon S., Words: 859k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Apr 16, 2018 Updated: Feb 11, 2020 2,417Chapter 58: A Man Has No Name

At the Tower of the Hand…

Two months had passed since King Daveth departed King's Landing with his army to put down the Second Greyjoy Rebellion. Since then, murmurs of well-wishes and concerns for the Young Stag have floated among the smallfolk – considering what had happened in the past at Lannisport all those years ago. But within the chambers of the Tower of the Hand, the gathered lords of the Small Council had assembled, to discuss today's affairs. Their recent guest was Queen Sansa; despite being advised to rest for a moment, the Wolf Queen had to know of Daveth's condition. She kept one hand around her pregnant belly, which had grown in size and was making her feel occasional discomfort. Even so, Sansa remained steadfast in her determination. Sitting alongside her (also making her very uncomfortable) was her own mother-in-law, Cersei Lannister, who was adamant that she be included as well.

At the head of the table sat her husband's grandfather and Hand of the King, Lord Tywin Lannister. "We only have the morning for affairs of state. What news do we have?" he coldly asked.

"King Daveth and Robb Stark had struck a decisive blow against Balon Greyjoy and lifted the ironborn's occupation of Deepwood Motte and Moat Cailin," Varys informed him. "As it stands, they've bested the Iron Fleet at the Sunset Sea despite some setbacks and now plan to take the war to the Iron Islands itself."

"What of my husband and brother?" Sansa glanced at him, her eyes tight and worried and her voice sounded almost pleadingly. "Are they…?"

Varys nodded. "Fine. They're both just fine, Your Grace, I assure you. My little birds have whispered to me that the King got right back on his feet despite suffering serious wounds."

Concern dawned on Sansa's face; her brow furrowed and felt her stomach twist in knots as she listened to the eunuch Master of Whisperers reports. Even though she was relieved that Daveth was all right, Sansa still didn't want to imagine her husband being hurt or anything; he had already earned a vertical scar along his eye during the Battle of Blackwater Bay.

"Rather impressive, I must say," Oberyn chimed in. "Not a bad feat for someone as young as he is."

"Even so, he's only one man," Pycelle pointed out.

Cersei, meanwhile, sat coolly. "He's becoming more like his father. Daveth should've known better than that to simply march off on his own."

"Still, I believe the results speak for themselves. Your son does seem the sort of person to always get the job done no matter the obstacles placed in front of him. I think that says something about his character."

"All the more reason for our enemies to keep thinking that way," Tyrion observed. "Trust me on that one, sister. I've seen how Daveth fights and how he carries out a plan. The more our enemies keep underestimating him, the more battles he'll keep on winning. He has a good mind for strategy and tactics, his men worship him… And the more results he gets done at a fast pace, many more houses will flock to his banner."

"Shouldn't h-he try not to push himself too hard?" Pycelle inquired. "The King's been… driven by his desire for vengeance these past 11 years. With h-his state of mind, I do believe it is imperative that—"

"Everyone's determined by something," Tyrion rebuffed, "I know my nephew better than most. He'll pull through."

"I hope you're right, Lord Tyrion," Sansa acknowledged.

Tywin placed his fist under his chin. "Hmm. What else do we have?"

Varys turned to the King's Hand. "More whispers from the east, my lord."

"The Targaryen girl?"

Sansa raised an eyebrow. 'Daenerys? The Mad King's daughter?' she thought rather puzzled. The Wolf Queen knew the last survivor of House Targaryen was across the Narrow Sea in Essos. Her sister, Arya, had walked into the room carrying goblets of wine – giving each of the lords a cup of their own.

"Daenerys has taken up residence in Meereen as a guest under the city's queen, Saqnizza Dhardu, in recognition for her contribution in helping to overthrow the slave masters," the eunuch continued.

"Overthrow them with what?" asked Cersei skeptically.

"She commands an army of Unsullied, Your Grace, some 8,000 strong. She has a company of sellswords, the Second Sons. She is currently advised by one of the exiles, Jon Connington. And she has three dragons."

'Dragons?' thought Arya, half anxious and half curious.

Cersei remained unconvinced. "Baby dragons, you mean."

Varys shook his head. "No juveniles, I'm afraid. They grow larger with every passing year."

"What of Connington?" Pycelle asked. "We thought he wasted away in disgrace in Lys."

"It would seem the rumors were greatly exaggerating. The disgraced Lord of Griffon's Roost has been living out his days as a sellsword in the Golden Company, but has since come out of hiding to declare for Daenerys Targaryen in her quest to return to Westeros. My birds suggest Connington has since grown from a brash, arrogant hot-head seeking glory into an older, harder and capable military commander."

"And the exile will have made Connington more seasoned and dangerous than ever," Tywin calculated.

Sansa glanced at Tywin. "Who is this Jon Connington, my lord? I've never heard of him."

"Armond Connington's only surviving son and Lord of Griffon's Roost before Aerys named him Hand after dismissing my successor Lord Owen Merryweather," the Old Lion explained. "When Robert Baratheon rebelled against the Iron Throne, Aerys hoped to find someone young and vigorous to match Robert in battle. But Connington at the time was too young, too bold and too eager for glory which ended in a humiliating defeat at the Battle of the Bells. Aerys exiled Connington to Essos for his failure and stripped him of his lands, wealth and titles."

"House Connington was one of House Baratheon's vassals, weren't they? Why would they rebel against their liege lord?"

Tyrion chimed in. "Not every house sided with Robert, I'm afraid. Even some of his own lords sided with the Mad King that day. Although the Conningtons were permitted to keep Griffon's Roost, I'm afraid that Robert distributed nine-tenths of their land among their neighbors in the Stormlands who actually supported him. The Connington's status thus fell from a full noble house to that of landed knights."

Before Sansa could ask any more questions, Cersei cut her daughter-in-law off. "What does it matter? Jon Connington's an old man."

"Dismiss him like that and you're most likely to be taken by surprise," Tywin rebuffed his daughter. "In tactical terms it would be stupid."

"Don't tell me you're worried about a child halfway across the world, father."

Varys chimed in. "A child with a seasoned warrior counseling her and a powerful army at her back, Your Grace," he reminded her.

"Lord Varys is right," Oberyn agreed. "I have been to Essos during my travels in my youth and seen the Unsullied firsthand when I was a sellsword for the Second Sons. They are very impressive on the battlefield…" he turned to Cersei and Sansa, "but less so in the bedroom."

Cersei remained indifferent as Sansa cringed; her shoulders shuddered with a chill as she felt her stomach's contents rise to her throat before being forced down. Cersei looked at her pregnant daughter-in-law, her eyes cold and full of scorn.

"Dragons haven't won a war in 300 years. Armies win them all the time," Tywin dismissed them. "She must be dealt with."

Pycelle looked uncertain. "How, my lord? By force?"

"Eventually, if it comes to that. Varys, can your little birds find their way into Meereen?"

Varys nodded. "Most certainly, my Lord Hand," he said calmly.

Tywin seemed to accept that answer. "Then that will be all for today's agenda. The rest of you, return to your chambers. Grand Maester, escort the Queen to her chambers."

All in attendance and prepped to leave; Sansa slowly stood up, her hand still on her swollen belly and left the room with Grand Maester Pycelle in tow. Tyrion and Cersei also left, but before Arya could leave Tywin stopped her.

"Not you, girl."

Arya stopped in her tracks and turned to face Tywin. "Yes, my lord?"

Tywin stood from his seat, observing the Stark girl glancing back and forth between him and a rolled up piece of paper they both noticed earlier this morning.

"Your maester taught you the basic understanding of literature and how to read?" he asked.

Arya shook her head. "Some, yes, but it was my father who taught me. More than most southern houses," she answered, thinking quickly on her feet; barely a stutter on that one.

That seemed to peak Tywin's curiosity. "Hmm. Never took Eddard Stark as a man to do that," he leaned in closely. "I taught my son Jaime to read. Maester Crelyen came to me one day, told me he wasn't learning. He couldn't make sense of the letters. He reversed them in his head. Crelyen said he'd heard tell of this affliction and that we simply must accept it."

"What did you do?" she asked.

"Hmph," Tywin reminisced that he had that same maester dismissed from his service at Casterly Rock and requested another from the Citadel under the pretense of a grievous insult to his household. "Moments after he told me that, I sat Jaime down for four hours every day… until he learned," he said smugly; proudly. "He hated me for it, for a time. For a long time. But he learned."

"Was Daveth ever like that once?"

Tywin shook his head, amused at the question. "No. My grandson learned to read before he learned how to hold a sword. As King Robert's son and heir, it was customary to groom him to succeed Robert; to educate him on what it means to rule if he were to ever become King and offer guidance whenever necessary. You saw how that turned out so far."

'Still reserving judgment on that; so long as he treats my sister well, then I suppose I'll give him a chance,' Arya thought to herself.

"What killed your father?" Tywin asked abruptly.

Arya winced at the question, remembering full well how her father Lord Eddard Stark lost his life two years ago while she and her sister were placed within Maegor's Holdfast during the Battle of Blackwater Bay. Fading away for a moment again, her words came at a sincere thing she's really said in a long time.

"Loyalty," she reluctantly confessed, "a rigid sense of loyalty. He threw his life away to protect Daveth's at the Blackwater."

Tywin studied Arya closely. "You're a sharp little thing, aren't you?" he turns away.

"Did—"

The Old Lion pauses, turning his back to her but notices Arya already averting her eyes.

"Forgive me, my lord, I shouldn't have asked that question," she apologized.

"No," Tywin said, "but you've already begun."

Arya looks up, blinking her big brown eyes. "Did you know your father, my lord?"

A surprising question, the Old Lion must admit. He hadn't mentioned his father, Lord Tytos Lannister, in so many years. Long before his reign as Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, Tywin's father Tytos was known throughout the Westerlands as "The Toothless Lion" or "The Laughing Lion" due to being a kind but weak man. He loaned money to lords who never bothered to repay him and his vassals openly ignored his orders, mocking him in open court. It was because of Tytos that House Lannister's reputation and power drastically declined before Tywin made it strong again and perception of weakness that caused their vassals House Reyne of Castamere to rise up in rebellion in the first place. Tywin put down the rebellion personally, extinguishing their house and re-establishing the fearsome reputation of House Lannister.

'He was more kitten than lion,' Tywin remembered. "I did," he admitted. "I grew up with him. Watched him grow old," the Old Lion eased his joints, noticing the irony that he feels old himself. "He loved us. He was a good man, but a weak man. A weak man who nearly destroyed our house and name."

Arya stood and listened as she learned more of the fearsome Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West and Hand of the King to her brother-in-law Daveth Baratheon. Intimidating as he was, Arya could see what made Tywin the kind of man and powerful lord he became known for. Before she could press any further, there was a knock at the door.

*KNOCK!*

Twin turned to see Ser Amory Lorch entering the room, noticing he took only two steps before stopping in his tracks.

"Lord Tywin…" he muttered.

Before the Old Lion demanded why he came in, Amory suddenly fell to the floor with a loud thud. Both Tywin and Arya stood and went over to examine him – noticing a rather small dart sticking out the back of his neck. Arya stepped back in surprise, uncertain as to what had happened to Amory. Tywin, on the other hand, was livid; he knew what the circumstance entailed.

"Guard!" he yelled.

Several Lannister guards ran into the room – gasping in surprise at the sudden assassination occurring inside the Red Keep itself, especially in the Tower of the Hand. A few guards ran out to inform the City Watch and raise the alarm, thereby increasing security. Arya stepped back against the wall before taking a peak out the window, but looked again as she noticed someone unfamiliar to her looking back up at her. The individual wore Lannister armor, but didn't appear to be a man-at-arms in particular. Arya squinted her eyes to get a good look, she was able to determine the man had blue eyes and long brownish-red hair with white streaks interspersed throughout it.

"Girl, what are you doing standing there?" shouted one of the Lannister guards. "Go get Ser Bronn of the Blackwater! Now!"

Arya sprinted out of the Tower of the Hand's main chamber, taking several steps down the stairs and out into the open. Upon catching her breath, Arya looked up to see the same man she saw earlier leaning against the corner of a nearby alleyway looking at her.

"Valar Morghulis (All men must die). A girl has questions," he said simply.

Arya had raised her guard, suspecting the individual as hostile and dangerous; luckily she kept Needle hidden within her sleeves, but couldn't draw it out in public without attracting too much attention to herself. King Daveth might be away, but Queen Sansa would definitely hear of it. No, Arya couldn't bring herself to cause her elder sister any unnecessary distress, not while she's carrying her first child in her womb. No, this was something she'd have to handle herself.

"Who are you?" she finally asks suspiciously.

The unknown man stepped forth from the shadows. "You're called Arya Stark, sister to the Queen? This man has the honor to be Jaqen H'ghar, once of the free city of Lorath," he introduced himself.

'How does he know my name? And why did he come all this way from Essos?' she looked puzzled. "Did you have something to do with that man up there? You're one of them. Why would you kill one of your own?"

"And you carry papers and fetch water for one of them," Jaqen countered. "Why is this right for you and wrong for me?"

Arya shook her head. "I didn't have a choice. You can just—"

"You did have a choice. I did. And here we are." Jaqen walked over to Arya, looking at her right in the eye. "A man has noticed your progress with the Water Dance, yet a man notices a girl says nothing. A girl keeps her mouth closed, keeps secrets. It is not for a man to spoil them."

Now she was getting really confused… and irritable. "Look, these words you say, t-they… you're not making any sense!"

Jaqen held up three fingers. "A man offers three."

"Three what?"

"The Red God takes what is his, lovely girl. And only death may pay for life. See this as an invitation to a greater purpose should a girl choose to feel so inclined."

"So, if I… name anyone, you'll have them killed?" Arya asked seeking clarification.

Jaqen nodded. "A man has said. Speak three names and the man will do the rest. Three lives I will give you – no more, no less, and we're done. The Red God has his due."

Now Arya wasn't exactly religious per se, following the teachings of the Old Gods of the Forest and Faith of the Seven; but if there was one thing she was more than certain of, it was if someone was willing to offer her something, something she wanted, it would be done. But to give Jaqen H'ghar, a total stranger and a foreigner, three names – who would be given the first?

"There's one person that's been giving my sister a lot trouble lately, someone who follows a certain someone's order."

Jaqen scrunched his face. "A man needs a name," he insisted.

'Seven hells,' Arya groaned. "Uhh… ah, Kettleblack. Osney, was his name I think."

"That is enough," he replied rather pleased. "Go now, girl; best not to arouse suspicion when word of a dead man spreads."

Arya looks back at Jaqen and rushes off, leaving him to place on the Lannister helm and blend in with the crowd – masquerading as one of Tywin Lannister's personal guards arriving to keep order as well as to prevent any wandering eyes from peering into the Tower of the Hand any more than it is necessary. Arya knew that if Daveth was still in the capital, he wouldn't be pleased about any of this – nor would her mother or Sansa, but all she did it was for the sake of her family, the only family she has left since her father Eddard Stark passed away.

"In the winter we must protect ourselves, look out for one another," Arya tells herself quietly. "When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives."

######

Author's Note: A rather short cameo, but I believe it was time to introduce a certain character you guys are rather familiar with. Despite the scenario being a bit different, what do you think Jaqen H'ghar's intentions are for being in King's Landing and why is he targeting Arya Stark of all people? Answer's probably a bit obvious, but still… Thoughts? Let me know.

Loki-says-smile: I just read this whole thing in like a day! awesome awesome story!

―Thanks.

Alistair Lannister: Oh, So Jaqen makes an appearance. Didn't think he would but very believable that he helps Arya though. If I were Arya, I'd target Cersei, Tywin and Littlefinger. That's just me but I have a feeling Arya's not going to think that. Well, she already named one of the Kettleback Brothers, so that's two left. Still think she should go for Cersei. Makes the story unpredictable. But it's your story, I still enjoy it. Quick question though. Where are the Knights of the Vale? Are they making their way to the Iron Islands yet?

―It takes quite some time for the knights of the Vale to travel from point A to point B by ship 'cause they'll need them to aid in the invasion of the Iron Islands. No doubt Littlefinger's "convinced" some merchant vessels to carry them over down the Narrow Sea and up the Sunset Sea. Don't worry, they're on their way.

DaddyChad: I believe the way he spoke was normal for someone from Lorath(the person he impersonated at the time was from Lorath)

―I was hoping to get that part right.

Magi Tail Welkin: If Sansa has a moment of confide with Arya about the treatment she's been getting from Cersei, then how long would it be before a Man get the name of the Queen?

―Arya could name Cersei, but that would certainly cause trouble with Daveth, Jaime, Tywin and possibly Tyrion as well. She'll either want to do it herself or wait until the right time.

The Three Stoogies: a great chapter like always keep up the good work

―Thanks.

BioHazard82: Another good chapter.

―Thanks.

Patty 4577: Always good to see Arya and Tywin talking. Oh and a Man has finally made an appearance.

―Figured it was time Jaqen H'ghar of the Faceless Men would show up.

RHatch89: Awesome update :)

―Thanks.

mpowers045: To be honest, hearing the way Jaqher talked like that has been annoying to me since then

―Must be a Faceless Man thing. Never understood why any of them spoke like that.

ZabuzasGirl: Wonderful!

Update immediately, please!

―Thanks. Will do.

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Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper by DeadlyMaelstrom711

Aboard the King Robert's Hammer…

King Daveth Baratheon and his men gathered around the war table, each observing a map detailing the Iron Islands' seven major islands in the chain and map marker pieces stationed on several key locations where they will launch their all-out invasion. This was it, the final confrontation between the mainlanders and the ironborn. Daveth knew this was a critical moment where his naval and ground forces would either seal the fate of House Greyjoy or be driven out. The Young Stag inhaled through his nose before exhaling; his mind was made up. There will be no retreat, no surrender. The plan was to be carried out accordingly.

"Scouts report that Balon Greyjoy's forces had holed up throughout the Iron Islands," spoke Rodrik Cassel. "What's left of the Iron Fleet should put up little resistance, but they're still formidable on open water. We need to get them on broken ground and put them at a disadvantage."

Greatjon Umber shook his head. "Bah! They'll offer heavy resistance either way. We need to get around them and have our fleets distract them from behind so our troops can move in. Less of a hassle and we''ll have plenty of manpower to spare when the day is done."

"To do that, we'll need to cover more ground," Robb studied the map. "The closest island is Harlaw, it's the second largest after Great Wyk and is both the wealthiest and most populous region."

'Great Wyk…' thought Daveth, remembering the haunting images of his brutal torture at the hands of the ironborn so many years ago. He furrowed his brow, bringing his hand up to scratch his chin.

"Your Grace?" Lord Commander Ser Barristan Selmy broke his concentration.

Daveth shook his head. "It's nothing," he dismissed. He leaned forward, studying the map. "Lord Bolton, how many men do we have left from the last two battles?"

"After losing 10,000 men to free Moat Cailin plus another 8,000 to break the ironborn navy at sea, we have about 71,000 troops remaining," Roose informed the King. "Plenty enough to engulf the Iron Islands, though the battle will still be costly. If what Lord Umber suggests is accurate, then we will face heavy resistance once our soldiers land on solid ground."

Randyll spoke up. "There are no easy choices in war, Lord Bolton. You either march off to war with what you have or wait on the sidelines while our enemies gather strength. Here, we cannot afford to waste such valuable time. If we are to strike, it must be done now."

"Well then, we're all agreed on one thing," Stannis remarked, "that is to strike now before any of the ironborn could prepare a mounting defense. Balon Greyjoy and all who follow him must be destroyed or all of Westeros will feel the painful sting of defeat and humiliation for generations."

"Listen to yourself, Lord Stannis," Galbart Glover protested. "If you use force to wipe out tens of thousands, then how are we any better than the ironborn?"

Daveth pondered over the consult of his gathered generals. He agreed this campaign needed to be brought to a close soon, and it needed to be done now. But even the Young Stag knew that anything bold or reckless would possibly cost him more men in the long term. Running multiple scenarios in his mind, Daveth picked up a war piece in his hand, feeling the wooden structure brush against his fingertips.

"We're doing this to save lives, Lord Glover, to end the war, not for the pursuit of glory," he finally interjected. "I will mourn for the dead, yet I'll do whatever I must so that no one else has to suffer at the hands of their treachery again."

Robb felt uneasy about his brother-in-law's speech pattern, yet detected a notion of conflict in his voice as well. An inner struggle, no doubt. Before anyone could speak up, Daveth's squire Olyvar Frey ran into the tent.

"Your Grace!" he panted. "We've got ships approaching!"

All eyes turned to the Frey lad. "Under what banner?" the King asked. "What are their colors?"

"Are they ironborn?" Stannis demanded.

Olyvar shook his head. "No, my lord. It's not the Greyjoys. Their sigils are, uh… the sails are blue. With a, uh, white falcon and a crescent moon."

Daveth raised an eyebrow. "A white crescent moon and falcon on a blue field… That's the sigil of House Arryn."

"So the knights of the Vale finally decide to come to our aid after staying on the sidelines for far too long," Stannis remarked harshly. "If so, then they've come a bit late after choosing not to come to their King's aid when that prancing fool Renly took up arms."

"Don't dismiss them out of turn yet, Lord Stannis," Robb spoke up. "The knights of the Vale are some of the most capable soldiers in Westeros, trained to fight on ice or deep snow. Some are even taught to battle on steep cliffs and mountainous terrain. Yes, they've disappointed us by not aiding us when Renly rebelled, but they're here now."

As Robb and Stannis traded back and forth, Daveth stepped outside his war camp on his flagship and noticed the Arryn fleet sailing alongside King Robert's Hammer. Upon observing them, Daveth counted at least a host of 20,000 Vale knights plus 10,000 cavalry. One of the Vale longships lowered a drawbridge to the deck of King Robert's Hammer, allowing a leading Vale lord to walk onto the royal flagship. Daveth recognized him right away, with grey hair, stale-grey eyes and bronze armor.

"Lord Royce!" Daveth exclaimed surprise. "How did you know where we were?"

Bronze Yohn lowered his head apologetically. "Apologies for the delay, Your Grace, but we were just informed of the situation by Queen Sansa. She believed you could use our help."

"Sansa sent you?"

"She did. Lord Baelish showed Lord Robin the contents of the letter you've sent across the nation and had him convince our lord to send any military aid in putting down this uprising."

'Of course, Littlefinger has his own agenda; but Sansa… thank the Seven for that woman,' the Young Stag felt relief washing away his doubts. "Then are the knights of the Vale ready for the final push, Lord Royce?"

Yohn nodded. "They are, Your Grace."

"Then this battle is already over."

Both walked back inside, with many of the Northmen, River lords, Stormlanders and others noticing the arrival of the Vale knights. With the extra reinforcements now finally gathered, the battle plan could now begin.

"With the knights of the Vale now here, we have more than enough to strike a decisive blow," Robb said. "You see here?" he pointed to the map. "Right here, Harlaw is the closest island to us. Above it lie Orkmont, Blacktyde, Old Wyk and Great Wyk. That leaves Pyke, the capital of the Iron Islands itself."

"So what's it going to be?" Greatjon Umber rose up. "Do we hit them by land? Or by sea?"

Daveth looked at the map once more, gathering pieces of the puzzle before looking at his gathered generals again. "Lord Bolton, you and your men will take Harlaw. Take its wealth and resources. Ser Kevan Lannister and his men will provide back up while Lord Redwyne covers you by sea."

Roose stood stone-faced, but his arms folded. "Understood, Your Grace," he acknowledged. The King's great-uncle, Ser Kevan, nodded his head as well.

Daveth then placed the war piece of House Bolton, House Lannister and House Redwyne on strategic locations surrounding Harlaw before looking up again. "Lord Umber, you and Lord Stannis will both lead the vanguard on the largest island of Great Wyk. Have your forces make landfall at Pebbleton while Ser Vance Corbray circles around behind them with 10,000 cavalry to Sealskin Point. Ser Lucius, you take the Seaswift and Lionstar along with a dozen longships to provide cover by sea."

Stannis said nothing, Lucius and Vance nodded in acknowledgment, but it was Lord Greatjon Umber bellowed up a thunderous laughter. "My, my! We get the biggest piece of the pie! Not to worry, Your Grace, I've been making corpses out of men for thirty years. We'll give those fuckers a fight they'll never forget!" he exclaimed proudly, prompting several chuckles from those assembled.

Even Daveth himself could resist but grin at Greatjon Umber's bold confidence, before planting war pieces of House Umber, House Baratheon of Dragonstone and three of House Arryn on each strategic point covering Great Wyk. No doubt the battle would be beneficial since it was Lord Stannis Baratheon himself who subdued the largest island itself eleven years earlier and since he knows the island his insight would be of great aid to those who remain unfamiliar to the terrain.

"Ser Barristan Selmy," he turned to his Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, "you and your men will take Old Wyk as you've done before. Pave the way for our troops."

Barristan nodded. "It will be done, my boy."

Daveth nodded and placed a war piece on Old Wyk itself. "Lord Edmure and the Blackfish will subdue Saltcliffe. Lord Karstark, you and Lord Royce will take Orkmont. Lady Tarly, you and your son take Blacktyde."

Rickard Karstark, Edmure Tully, Brynden Tully, Yohn Royce, Randyll Tarly and Dickon Tarly nodded their heads in acknowledgment as Daveth set down more pieces on the war map. Before he could speak again, his squire spoke up.

"Pardon my manners, Your Grace, but where will you be?" Olyvar asked.

All eyes looked to the Young Stag. Even Robb Stark wanted to know the details as well. Fully composing himself, Daveth picked up the final puzzle piece bearing his sigil of House Baratheon, a gold stag on a black field – all of which are attached to wood. Trading glances with his generals, Daveth placed the wooden piece down onto the map.

"I will take 30,000 men and lay siege to Pyke," he answered.

Even the King's own uncle, Ser Jaime Lannister—who was standing next to his nephew—scrunched up his face as other lords looked surprise at the youth's response. "Your Grace," he spoke up, "that stronghold is the most heavily defended and the fighting will be the thickest. For all intents and purposes, you're going to need all the help you can get. I'm going with you."

Daveth looked at his uncle. "I wasn't going to object. The remaining Kingsguard will be coming with me."

Jaime nodded, pleased that his nephew was listening to him.

"Lord Glover, you lay siege to Ten Towers and rescue Robett. Find your brother, and bring him home."

Galbart nodded eager to fight. "It will be done, lad. House Glover does not abandon one of its own."

"Lady Mormont, you take the port town of Lordsport. Burn it to the ground."

Maege of Bear Island readied herself for battle, her daughters Dacey, Lyra and Jorelle all steeled themselves for the final battle. "We'll show them the fury of Bear Island," she proclaimed.

"Robb."

The Young Wolf turned to his brother-in-law.

"You'll be coming with me too. Bring that direwolf of yours as well."

Robb nodded, much to the growing discomfort of his own bannermen. The direwolf Grey Wind, meanwhile, stood up on his paws beside his master. Once they were absolutely certain of their positions and objectives, the gathering lords spent the next several minutes getting to their ships so they could begin the invasion of the Iron Islands.

Daveth looked at his men. "Listen up. You all know our purpose. Why we're here. The ironborn know we're coming. For some, this will be a one-way trip. For too long Balon Greyjoy and his lackeys ran rampant across the Seven Kingdoms unchecked. It's time we rectify that error. There can be no retreat, no surrender, no hesitation. We move forward at all cost. Now… let's win this war so we can all go home."

"For the King!"

"Long live the Oathkeeper!"

"The North remembers!"

Lord Greatjon Umber was the first to depart the war tent, accompanied by Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard, Lady Maege Mormont, Patrek Mallister and the others followed suit. Daveth watched each of them leave, but stopped only a handful before they got on their ships to carry out their instructions.

"Jaime, Kevan, Ser Meryn, Lord Bolton, Lord Tarly, wait a moment," he called out. They all stopped in their tracks and turned to face the King. "Before you leave, I have a special assignment for each of you to carry out. Be sure to tell the other captains, and tell them to move the fleet into position."

######

At the Red Keep…

Queen Sansa Stark and her handmaiden Shae walked throughout the halls of the Red Keep with her sworn shields Ariyana Dayne and Brienne of Tarth, each of them exchanging gossip of the rumors surrounding the city as of late.

"There's been a disturbing report coming out of Flea Bottom lately," Sansa mused. "Some of them are… rather unsettling."

"What kind of reports, Your Grace?" asked Brienne.

"People being taken from their homes, shops raided and pillaged… What's worse is that no one is coming forward to give the City Watch or the Master of Laws any leads or a depiction of possible suspects."

Shae chimed in. "Perhaps they're too spook to speak out for fear they'd be next. I mean, survival does take paramount over nobility in King's Landing, my lady."

"Even still, there's got to be something that would give Prince Oberyn something to follow up on. These heinous acts have got to stop at some point."

"Given the current state of affairs, Your Grace," Ariyana spoke up, "it is easy for fear to grip the minds of the less fortunate. Once things have settled down, perhaps more will eventually come forward. But until then, it's wise to not be too pushy given your current 'condition'."

Sansa sighed wearily, massaging her pregnant belly. "I know I shouldn't worry too much, but I am the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. The lives of everyone in Westeros—rich and poor, great and small, nobles and commoners—are under my protection when King Daveth is away."

"An admirable trait, Your Grace. The common folk love you for it, but your enemies will certainly seek to take advantage of your nature. Don't let them."

Shae sought to change the subject to allay the concerns of her mistress. "Other than that, have you and the King thought of a name for the baby?" she asked curiously.

Sansa gave a small smile. "I, we… haven't thought that far ahead yet to be honest. We've been mostly concerned about readying ourselves for when I'm supposed to deliver."

"I could write down a list of names if you'd like, Your Grace."

"That would be considerate. What do you think, Shae? Will I have a boy or a girl?"

"I honestly don't know, Your Grace."

Sansa turned to Ariyana. "Ariyana, what do you think?"

"As your handmaiden suggested, even I don't know," she answered calmly and honestly. "But if I were to take a quick stab, given the amount of bastards King Robert sired, I… would guess that you would give birth to a Prince."

"Brienne?"

The maid of Tarth shifted a bit uncomfortably, but maintained her composure. "I fear that none of us can be certain on the baby's gender, Your Grace, but I suppose a Princess would brighten things up here."

'Two completely different answers; Gods have mercy,' the Wolf Queen contemplated. Sansa then felt her stomach turn, making her stop midway and bring up a hand to her mouth. "Ugh," she groaned, "I will be relieved when this pregnancy is over."

Shae stood at Sansa's side, rubbing her back and helping her to her feet as they all resumed their walk. When they left the Red Keep and walked down Aegon's High Hill and Visenya's Hill before taking a different route past The Hook and onto the Street of Sisters before arriving to the Street of Flour. Whilst on the move, Sansa observed to see the gathering smallfolk stopping what they were doing when they noticed their new Queen walking among them.

"It's her! The Queen!" one of them said.

"Queen Sansa!"

"Hail the Queen!"

"Seven blessings on you, Your Grace!" one of the children shouted.

Sansa politely waved at the commoners, noticing a small girl—possibly around the age of seven—holding out a single blue winter rose.

"For you, Your Grace," she offered.

'A blue winter rose, like the ones Daveth used to give me two years ago,' Sansa smiled and leaned down to accept it. "Thank you, little one," she said sweetly.

The little girl returned the smile and ran off when she heard her mother calling her. Sansa watched on, taking notice of the recent changes her presence brought to the population of King's Landing. Throughout her stay in these past two years and her ascension as Queen Consort, Sansa made a name for herself which garnered the love of the people. Indeed, Queen Sansa was well-loved by the smallfolk, yet even the nobles had their own opinions of this new consort. While Daveth was away at war, Sansa assisted in managing the city with her husband's grandfather Lord Hand Tywin Lannister—although they did have their occasional disagreements and differing ideologies when it comes to ruling. Even so, the Old Lion still terrified Sansa and she kept her distance from him; yet more so she moved to keep an arm's length distance—preferably a longer one—from her scheming mother-in-law Cersei Lannister.

As she resumed the tour, there was a shouting coming from several distances.

"Get back here, boy!" one of the City Watch shouted.

Sansa perked her ears up, trying to indicate the direction the goldloack's shouts were coming from. Her guards, Ariyana and Brienne, gripped their handle of their swords in case if there were to be any hostile attempts. As Sansa finally saw a figure in the distance, she recognized it was Arya, her own sister, who was running.

Before the goldcloaks could catch her, Arya turned at her pursuers and back before bumping into Sansa.

"Oof!" they both grunted and stumbled backwards; Arya landed on her butt while Ariyana, Brienne and Shae caught Sansa and prevented her from falling over.

Arya groaned and shook her head as the City Watch finally caught up. "About time, boy. Now come with us. We have a lot of questions for you," one of them said.

Sansa looked at them, a look of fierceness in her eyes being made apparent. "Stand back, men. This is my sister, Arya Stark," she warned them.

The goldcloaks looked up from Arya and noticed Queen Sansa glaring at them; each of them looked back and forth at each other before the Wolf Queen took another step forward.

"Return to your barracks this instant and report to your superiors before I tell Ser Bronn of the Blackwater what you just did, and don't you DARE think of laying a hand on my sister ever again," she warned once more.

The two goldcloaks complained and begrudgingly turned away, making quite a scene for the smallfolk to watch and observe the commotion. Once they were out of sight, Sansa rubbed her stomach tenderly as Arya stood to her feet.

"I could've handled them," she complained while dusting herself off.

Sansa exasperatedly shook her head. "And gotten yourself into even more trouble. By the Gods, Arya, what were you thinking? Where have you been?" she questioned.

"I was running an errand, that's all. One of the goldcloaks thought I was someone else and chased after me."

"What for?"

Arya shrugged her shoulders. "How in Seven hells should I know, sister? Two years we've been living in this stinking city, and they still think I'm a boy! I'm a girl!"

"Pay no mind to it," she sighed. "I'll try to smooth things over with their commander and allay everyone's suspicions as I can. But tell me, Arya, where were you?"

"I already said—"

"I know what you said, but I know you better than most."

Before Arya could open her mouth to speak, their conversation was interrupted by a loud shriek and a thud.

*THUD!*

"AAAAAAAAHHH!" screamed one of the locals.

Sansa and Arya turned their heads sharply to the left, with Ariyana and Brienne finally unsheathing their swords as they all went to investigate. A large group of people had begun assembling in one of the town squares by the tens; if the commotion were to continue, it would number in the hundreds. Even the goldcloaks and several Lannister soldiers had a hard time dispersing the crowd.

"Get back!" one of the guards hollered.

"Back! All of you!"

Sansa and Arya pushed through, with Ariyana and Brienne not too far behind. Looking down, Sansa gasped at the sight of a dead man on the ground, his neck broken and spun around in a sickening fashion. The Wolf Queen held a hand to her mouth, mostly to keep herself from making a noise and to prevent herself from vomiting; it had been a long time since she had seen a corpse up close since the Tourney of the Hand. It wasn't long before Sansa noticed a familiar sigil on the man's cloak.

"A black kettle on a red field… House Kettleblack," she examined. "Osney?"

One of the Lannister guards saw the Queen. "Stand back, Your Grace. It's not safe here."

Sansa shook her head. "Inform Ser Bronn and Prince Oberyn. Tell them everything that's happened here. The rest of you, try to disperse the crowd as gently as possible. They needn't see more than they already have."

"At once, Your Grace," they nodded. "All right, get back you lots! Get back!"

As Brienne and Ariyana and Shae led Queen Sansa back to the Red Keep, Arya merely continued staring at the body of Osney Kettleblack before giving a small satisfying grin.

"You won't be tormenting my sister anymore," she said quietly. "Cersei'll definitely take this as a warning soon enough."

Looking upwards, Arya saw Jaqen H'ghar leaning against one of the battlements above her staring down at her. Lifting to his left hand and placing one finger on his cheek, Jaqen silently indicates to Arya that the first death has been paid and two more remain—names included. Arya nodded and took off to avoid further suspicion. King's Landing was getting dangerous and Arya felt the responsibility of having to protect her sister getting heavier, but did not waiver.

"Even if you hate me for it, I hope you'll understand why I did what I did, Sansa. Try to understand."

######

Author's Note: Introducing at the last second, the Knights of the Vale! Led by Lord Yohn "Bronze Yohn" Royce, the Vale infantry, archers and cavalry are ready to make landfall in the final stages of the Second Greyjoy Rebellion. And what do you think Daveth's secret correspondence with those he called forth will entail? Also, Jaqen makes the first strike on Arya's behalf. How will her closing dialogue affect her relationship with her royal sister? Thoughts? Let me know.

Vasun05: Would have just named Cersei and be done with it

Guest #1: That idiot Arya instead of naming some lowlife could have asked for Cersei's death.

BioHazard82: Another great chapter.

―Thanks.

RHatch89: Awesome update :)

―Thanks.

LunaEvanna Longbottom: The need to protect Sansa has always been my favorite trait of Ayra's.

―They might have their own disagreements, but they're still sisters.

Patty 4577: Even with the Knights of the Vale. Pyke is probably going to be a medival Normandy. Anyway with Kings Landing. When did the Mountain change his name to the Ninja. Because Gregor is many things but stealth isn't one of them. Also a man has made his first kill.

―Stealth isn't one of Gregor Clegane's traits, true, unless Cersei placed him in a remote section of Flea Bottom far away from the eyes and ears of the Red Keep for a time. Also, a man has two more lives to offer. Which ones do you think a man will pick?

The Three Stoogies: a great chapter keep up the great work can't wait to read what balon's says when daveths shows up at his door keep up the great work.

―Thanks.

Alistair Lannister: Ah, The Knights of the Vale finally arrive! And it looks to be about 30,000 men, bolstering Daveth's army to now 100,000. The Ironborn don't have much. Considering their losses I'd say, less than 20,000 are left. It's pretty much over for the Greyjoys. Nice to see Sansa walking among the people, I'm guessing she learned that from Margaery? Or if she did it herself than that's probably more awesome. I'm guessing the baby's gonna be a boy, but the poll you put out had them voting for twins so maybe a boy and a girl? And finally Jaqen H'Ghar strikes the first kill on Arya's three kill list. Arya knows it's Cersei doing all this to Sansa, hope she goes for her next. Great Chapter! Excited for the Battle of the Iron Islands!

―Thanks. Sansa's pretty much a lady by the time she was 3, yet she learned much more after spending 2 years in King's Landing and becoming Daveth's queen. I'd say her influence was of her own personal nature combed with her adaptive intelligent honor that made Sansa so well-loved by the common people.

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2,417Chapter 60: Siege of Harlaw

At Harlaw…

Several hours had passed since Lord Roose Bolton and his bannermen stormed the beaches of Harlaw, the wealthiest archipelago of the Iron Islands. Reinforced by the combined Lannister–Glover men-at-arms and Redwynes ships, the Bolton army had gained a strong foothold in the region despite the loss of over 3,000 men. Beyond the horizon, Roose could see the Ten Towers keep, the seat of House Harlaw – dominion of Balon Greyjoy's wife's family. And according to the latest intel, they had been keeping Lord Galbart Glover's brother Robett prisoner. As such, Galbart himself had taken to the field in the hopes of rescuing his brother.

Roose folded his arms as he watched from the hillside as the scene below him unfold: the screams and shouts, steel clashing against steal, and the fires and smokes that littered the battlefield as Bolton soldiers raised their banners in triumphant as the Harlaw banners depicting a silver scythe on a black field being torn down and burned. Riding up to his side was his bastard son Ramsay.

"The scouts report that Harridan Hill and Grey Garden have been put to the torch, father," Ramsay announced. "Locke and his men are already set on demolishing the Tower of Glimmering."

Roose remained stoic as ever. "That leaves only the Ten Towers to remain. We can expect Lord Rodrik Harlaw to mount a strong defense around his lands before our forces charge into his holdfast."

"If I may, father," the Bolton bastard reached into his pocket, "I believe I have a suggestion for inflicting warfare intimidation."

Roose looked at Ramsay as he pulled out a small piece of skin and three fingers hooked onto a chain around it. The Lord of the Dreadfort observed the flesh-ridden trinket before meeting his bastard son's gaze.

"Where did you get that?" he asked.

"A few dozen ironborn we've captured were… slow learners, but I've trained them, took some pieces off before making an example of them. The ironborn who saw it pissed themselves before running away with their tails between their legs. They didn't make it far though. Not that any of it matters in the end."

"You mean you flayed them."

"Only a few bits," Ramsay nodded as he smirked. "A few others, too, but like I said I made sure the ironborn got the message in the end. They're well aware of their fates now that we've come ashore."

"A choice of instilling psychological fear on the battlefield, but I did not give my consent for you to do so. Your lack of discretion with Bolton practices is becoming rather infamous as of late."

Ramsay frowned. "We've been flaying our enemies for a thousand years, father. The flayed man is on our banners!"

"My banners, not yours," Roose calmly yet harshly corrected him. "You're not a Bolton, you're a Snow. I can only hope you've done nothing to Balon Greyjoy's surviving son and heir; we need him whole for the final push."

Ramsay felt his lips curl into an angry sneer upon being reminded of his bastard status. While most bastards content themselves with life, Ramsay had larger ambitions: he considers himself a true Bolton despite his birth and is highly resentful of his bastard status and will violently correct those who refer to him otherwise.

Lord Bolton stepped away, shaking his head. "The King's directive was clear: lay siege to the Iron Islands, one by one, and when the time comes… the Iron Islands are to be utterly destroyed, every holdfast torn down and its archipelagoes washed away beneath the waves. Our armies were to drain away any and all resources Harlaw had. Our prisoners were not your personal playthings."

"I know what the Oathkeeper's instructions entailed, father," Ramsay said. "Perhaps we should've demanded that Theon be—"

Roose let out a harsh sigh, moving to look Ramsay in the eyes once more. "I thought I made myself clear. I need Theon Greyjoy whole. I need his mind intact, meaning you are not to touch him."

Ramsay didn't back down. "Theon is an ironborn. Theon is our enemy. But once we're done here, I'll make sure he never betrays us."

The Lord of the Dreadfort disappointingly shook his head. "I placed far too much trust in you. Choose to act like a wild animal, and you will be treated as one."

Ramsay stiffened, swallowing anxiously. His confidence faded… only to be replaced by something else. Watching his father look away, Ramsay clenched his fists tightly as Galbart Glover rode up to Roose.

"The men have cleared the path to Ten Towers," Galbart reported.

Roose nodded. "And your brother?"

"He's still being held by those damned ironborn. Remember, Lord Bolton, Robett's safety is of paramount importance. For his sake, I'm taking my men in to save him. I'll need your men to provide cover whilst I break him out."

"You will have it. Go."

Galbart kicked the side of his horse and rode down the hill to join the charge as Bolton, Lannister and Glover men-at-arms laid siege to Ten Towers. Beyond the smoke and fires, Roose looked up and observed his surroundings; noticing the Redwyne fleets sailing around into their assigned strategic positions, Roose calmly turned to his bastard son.

"You want to prove yourself a Bolton?" he asked.

Ramsay nodded.

"Then send ravens to each of the captains aboard those ships. Tell Kevan Lannister now is the time to begin bombardment. Do this for our family, and I'll reconsider your position."

Ramsay smiled wickedly. Not only was his father giving him a second chance to prove himself, but surely there would be a reward for him as well. As he watched his father move his troops to begin loading the ships with valuable cargo and plunders they've procured from the island of Harlaw, Ramsay moved to two of his trusted lieutenants.

"Get this message to the King's great-uncle," he simply tells them. "Leave no tower left standing, and spare no one."

######

Inside the Ten Towers…

Galbart Glover fought his way inside Ten Towers, the seat of House Harlaw in the attempt to locate and free his brother Robett from captivity. The battle to make it this far had been bloody as it was costly; whilst besieging the Ten Towers' gates, Galbart lost more than half of his men – more than previously expected.

*SLASH!*

*CLEAVE!*

*CLASH!*

One by one, Galbart slashed and cleaved his way through the halls of the Ten Towers before encountering Lord Rodrik "the Reader" Harlaw, Lord of Harlaw, and the surrounding areas of the archipelago as well as captain of the recently destroyed Sea Song. An average-looking man, Rodrik has brown hair and eyes and a short, neat beard that is grey. Nicknamed "Rodrik the Reader" for his love of reading, uncommon amongst the ironborn – Rodrik was prepared for the inevitable outcome surrounding his lands.

"And so it has come to this," Rodrik spoke plainly. "It appears that my niece Yara was right after all. The fate of all ironborn are sealed, history and all. I advised King Balon not to rebel against Robert Baratheon the first time. I advised him not to take up arms against his son as well, but the krakens were always a proud, stubborn bunch."

"Enough!" Galbart roared. "Return my brother Robett, along with his family to me at once!"

Rodrik shook his head. "You already seek answers to questions in which you already know the outcome. But fine, both are in the cells of my hall."

"Then get them!"

"I'm afraid I simply cannot do that," he calmly said unsheathing his blade. "As weary as I am of this foolish rebellion, I fear I must perform my duty as an ironborn. Prepare yourself, mainlander."

'So that's how it's going to be. Very well,' thought Galbart as he assumed the fighting stance.

For what seemed like a tense moment, both Glover and Harlaw felt the Ten Towers keep shake and tremble with such tremendous force.

*BAM!*

*CRASH!*

*RUMBLE!*

Galbart and Rodrik equally shook as they started clashing swords, exchanging blows whilst they noticed the stones around them giving way under constant pressure from the outside.

*POUNDING!*

*CLATTER!*

"Oof!" exclaimed Rodrik as Galbart kicked him back.

Galbart regained his balance as fireballs launched by trebuchets, scorpions and spitfires continued bombarding Ten Towers. Once they had a good short distance from one another, they both equally looked outside to see the Redwyne fleet bombarding Harlaw and its surroundings, the faint sounds of screams barely reaching their ears.

'Such slaughter…' Galbart realized. No wonder why he hadn't seen any reinforcements from Roose Bolton or the Lannisters. They kept the Lord of Deepwood Motte hidden in the dark of their plot. Their real plot!

"Never take your eyes off the fight!" Rodrik pointed out as he charged again, Galbart barely able to deflect it in time to parry and counter.

Even as the fleet rained fireballs around them—destroying the settlements and demolishing holdfasts alike—both Glover and Harlaw fought fiercely as the Ten Towers itself was slowly being brought down around them.

"So you intend to kill us all," Rodrik realized. "If this is indeed my fate, then I'll take you down with me!"

"Not so long as a Glover continues to draw breath!" Galbart retorted.

Their blades clashing again, both were unprepared for the stone floor around them to start giving out.

"What the…?!" Rodrik exclaimed surprise as each stone was falling out of place below them. Before long, another trebuchet catapulted a bombardment on one of the Ten Towers foundations which caused the ground beneath Rodrik and Galbart to give way. Galbart was fortunate enough to jump back a bit before the Ten Towers floor fell out from beneath. Rodrik the Reader, however, wasn't able to escape as the stone his right foot stood on slipped out of place.

"DAMN YOU!" Rodrik screamed as he fell to his death, the stones of Ten Towers crumbling away to crush him on the waves below.

Galbart had no time to think about such tactics, he had to find his brother and his family and escape from Harlaw before they're crushed. Rushing down the main hall, through the library as more and more of Ten Towers infrastructure began crumbling away. Finally after a grueling search, Galbart found the passage to the cells and ran down the steps – albeit stumbling and slipping in the progress.

"Damn it!" he cursed. "The Boltons keep this up, this whole blasted keep will come crashing down all around us!"

As he trekked the final steps, Galbart finally arrived at the cells and saw his brother Robett, his sister-in-law Sybelle, and their children Gawen and Erena Glover behind bars.

"Robett!" Galbart called out.

Robett snapped his head upwards, still slightly disoriented and bruised at the treatment he suffered, recognizing his elder brother's voice.

"Brother!" he called out, gripping the iron bars.

"Uncle Galbart!" Gawen and Erena cried out in tears, happy to see him.

"By the Gods, bless you Galbart!" Sybelle praised.

"Please, uncle, get us out!"

Galbart looked around briefly. "Where are the keys?"

"Over there," Sybelle pointed towards the crushed jailer.

Galbart turned and ran over, grabbing the number of keys from the jailer as more stones crumbled around them. The Glover children squeaked as they moved away from where the objects fell. Sybelle held her children close as Robett motioned Galbart over once he finally acquired the keys he'd been looking for.

"Hand on, brother," Galbart reassured him. "I'm taking you all home."

"Hurry, uncle! Please!" Gawen pleaded.

Galbart fumbled around putting each key into the lock, growing increasingly frustrated whenever the chosen keys wouldn't pick the lock on the cells. More and more stones crumbled away, one momentarily landing mere inches near Robett's left leg. The Glovers exclaimed as Galbart searched through six more keys before finally inserting the last key into the lock. Turning the key towards the left, Galbart heard the lock machinations click.

*CLICK, CLUNK!*

*CREAK!*

Feeling the cells unlocking, Galbart and Robett swung the cell doors open – freeing the captive Glovers, allowing a brief reunion. Hugs and praises aside, the Glovers quickly turned to evacuate Ten Towers before the keep collapses on top of them. Rushing back up through the library and into the great hall, an unfortunate moment struck when, during the escape, a stone fell from above and struck Galbart on the head, briefly disorientating him. Robett looked over his shoulder.

"Brother!"

Before Galbart could recover, a heavy load of stone and wooden support beams came crashing down – pinning Galbart down as he spat blood across the beam.

"GRAAAAH!" he shouted in pain.

Robett and Sybelle ran towards the fallen Galbart, each trying desperately to lift the heavy fallen debris off of their family member. Gawen and Erena joined in, each straining trying to save their uncle.

"Nnnagh! It won't budge!" Robett strained.

Galbart gritted his teeth, shutting his eyes tight before opening them to see more of Ten Towers crumbling all around them.

"It's no use! Get out of here!" he called out, blood staining his teeth.

Robett shook his head. "The fu… No, brother! We're all going home to Deepwood Motte! That includes you!"

"Don't be… *cough, cough!* don't be foolish," Galbart spat out blood. "You know that I… I can't make it. The bloody debris is too heavy! If you stay here, you'll all be killed."

"But uncle—!"

"But nothing!" Galbart strained in agony, moving to take the signet ring of House Glover off his hand before grabbing Robett's hand and placing it into his. "Take this, Robett. Take your wife and children and go back to Deepwood Motte without me!"

Sybelle shook her head in disbelief. "But Galbart…!"

"Robett, I'm not going to let you all sacrifice yourselves for me," he continued – his voice slowly getting weaker. "You are Lord Glover now, brother. Return home to Deepwood Motte. Make our house proud. Make the North proud."

Robett felt his grip slipping away, a moment of sadness behind his eyes as his brother named him his successor in what appeared to be their final moments. The last time he might see his only sibling again. Begrudgingly curling his hand into a fist, Robett took the signet ring and held Galbart's hand.

"I won't forget you, brother," Robett swore.

Galbart nodded. "Nor I you. Now… now go. Go, go!"

"No, wait! Uncle, no!"

"Father! We have to go back! We can't leave him!"

Robett and Sybelle ignored the pleas of their children as they yanked them to their feet and made their escape as Ten Towers underwent enough bombarding pressure from the Redwyne fleet for the entire structure to come crumbling down. Watching his family escaping to safety, Galbart Glover never broke eye contact as the keep came crashing down.

'May the Old Gods protect you. And remember that you are never alone. I will always be with you,' he thought as all became dark.

*THUD!*

*CRASH!*

Outside, Robett and Sybelle watched on from the Redwyne ship Queen's Thorn in disbelief as the keep that was once Ten Towers was utterly demolished, none of it remained standing. The island of Harlaw lit up the skies as fire and smoke devoured the archipelago. As the Glovers mourned the loss of their leader, Ramsay looked on as more of his lieutenants loaded the vessels with plundered wealth and resources they managed to procure during the siege. Feeling pleased with himself, Ramsay ignored the cries of the Glovers.

"A naked man has few secrets; a flayed man, none," he whispered silently.

Roose Bolton observed from the vessel with Kevan Lannister. "And so Harlaw has been completely destroyed," he concluded.

Kevan nodded. "That it has. I'll have the fleet set sail for Pyke to join the King and his men. We'll reinforce him in less than a day."

"Very well," the Lord of the Dreadfort nodded. "I'll have Ramsay escort the Glovers to Deepwood Motte. They'll need time to mourn the loss of their lord, after all."

Kevan nodded and left to inform the captain of their new directive. Roose, meanwhile, looked onto the horizon with Ramsay approaching his side.

"It's done, father. Harlaw is no more. Its wealth and resources are at our disposal."

"Distribute them among the men. They fought very hard today."

"We're to set to sail to Pyke now?" Ramsay asked.

"Have your best hunters ready," Roose informed him. "Hit the ironborn with a viciousness they've never seen before."

######

Author's Note: Well guys, here's a short chapter depicting the siege of Harlaw. It's not much, I know, each chapter is usually a bit longer – but I'm doing my best. Just want to get this over with as much as possible. Some collateral damage we've seen. A bit of a harsh tactics deployed by the royal forces to bombard the Iron Islands and butcher every ironborn they come across as noticed by Galbart, but we'll leave that to the readers to comment about such mindset.

What do you guys think of the short dialogue between Roose Bolton and Ramsay? Of Galbart Glover and Rodrik Harlaw? Were there any differences you might have seen in comparison to the TV series or the novels?

Hear My Fury: What Roose did at Harlaw is actually staying in character with the books at least. I seem to recall in the books at the Battle of the Green Fork he unleashed arrows on his own men as well as the Lannisters so, this is nothing new. I hope Ramsay gets axed off soon. Maybe Daveth can sweeten the deal with Walder Frey and have Roose marry Walda and get rid of Ramsay, so that way Roose can have a trueborn son.

—The Boltons are as cruel as they are cunning, especially if one in particular is a beast wearing human skin.

God of war: Another nice chapter but I have a question after this will deavth deal with wildeng army and then daneryas

—He'll have either the Northmen, the Night's Watch or even someone else to handle the wildling army, but he'll primarily focus on Daenerys herself.

Patty 4577: Well at least Ramsay is being productive.

—Productive in his own way, yes.

Supremus85: Knowing Rodrik Harlaw, he would have surrendered without fighting.

—He probably would've considered if the order to kill every ironborn wasn't enacted.

RHatch89: Awesome update :)

—Thanks.

The Three Stoogies: a great chapter but is roose going to be called into question if the glovers find out what he did

—The Glovers are going to be so pissed if they found out what the Boltons did.

BioHazard82: Another good chapter.

—Thanks.

Review

Jump:Chapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Chapter 30Chapter 31Chapter 32Chapter 33Chapter 34Chapter 35Chapter 36Chapter 37Chapter 38Chapter 39Chapter 40Chapter 41Chapter 42Chapter 43Chapter 44Chapter 45Chapter 46Chapter 47Chapter 48Chapter 49Chapter 50Chapter 51Chapter 52Chapter 53Chapter 54Chapter 55Chapter 56Chapter 57Chapter 58Chapter 59Chapter 60Chapter 61Chapter 62Chapter 63Chapter 64Chapter 65Chapter 66Chapter 67Chapter 68Chapter 69Chapter 70Chapter 71Chapter 72Chapter 73Chapter 74Chapter 75Chapter 76Chapter 77Chapter 78Chapter 79Chapter 80Chapter 81Chapter 82Chapter 83Chapter 84Chapter 85Chapter 86Chapter 87Chapter 88Chapter 89Chapter 90Chapter 91Chapter 92Chapter 93Chapter 94Chapter 95Chapter 96Chapter 97Chapter 98Chapter 99Chapter 100Chapter 101Chapter 102Chapter 103Chapter 104Chapter 105Chapter 106Chapter 107Chapter 108Chapter 109Chapter 110Chapter 111Chapter 112Chapter 113Chapter 114Chapter 115Chapter 116Chapter 117Chapter 118Chapter 119Chapter 120Chapter 121Chapter 122Chapter 123Chapter 124Chapter 125Chapter 126Chapter 127Chapter 128Chapter 129Chapter 130Chapter 131Chapter 132Chapter 133Chapter 134Chapter 135Chapter 136Chapter 137Chapter 138Chapter 139Chapter 140Chapter 141Chapter 142Chapter 143Chapter 144Chapter 145Chapter 146Chapter 147Chapter 148Chapter 149Chapter 150Chapter 151Chapter 152Chapter 153Chapter 154Chapter 155Chapter 156Chapter 157Chapter 158Chapter 159Chapter 160Chapter 161Chapter 162Chapter 163Chapter 164Chapter 165Chapter 166Chapter 167Chapter 168Chapter 169Chapter 170Chapter 171Chapter 172Chapter 173Chapter 174Chapter 175Chapter 176Chapter 177Chapter 178Chapter 179Chapter 180

Chapter 858 - vvv

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