The North hadn't changed at all since Sandor had traveled to Winterfell with the fat king and the royal prick. The journey from King's Landing to the North had taken far more time because that blonde bitch of a queen had insisted on traveling in a lavish wheelhouse that slowed down the entire company. The fat king had raged about it for days. His desire to reach his best friend and get as far away from his family was as clear as day.
The Little Bird had decided against a wheelhouse, although her betrothed had offered her exactly that. Instead, she donned riding clothes like her protectors and rode side by side with Lord Arryn the entire journey. It had surprised Sandor when the girl had first emerged from the keep, but he had since learned that the Little Bird had more wolf in her than others realized.
From Sandor's perspective, she had learned just as much from Cersei as she had from her own mother and septa. She treated everyone, from the lowliest servant to the highest lord with respect and kindness, almost as if they were old friends. She was quickly learning servants' names and calling them by such. She was also highly observant and picked up on more than others realized. She was still learning the game of politics that ruled her world, but she was by no means a novice to the game.
Sandor now stood outside the door of Lord Stark's solar as mother and daughter caught up.
"You're the Hound." a voice said from in front of him.
Sandor slowly lowered his gaze until it fell on a slim, dark-haired girl. Her chin was tilted upwards slightly and there was a defiant and angry look in her eye. She wore boy clothes and carried a slim, rapier-like sword at her side.
"Arya Stark." he rumbled.
"Hound." Arya Stark responded fiercely.
"What do you want?" Sandor asked.
"You killed Mycah." Arya snapped.
Sandor frowned. He didn't remember killing anyone with that name, but then again, he killed a lot of people. Whoever this 'Mycah' was, he meant a lot to the girl. He shrugged and glared at her.
"So?" he challenged.
"You killed an innocent boy. A boy too weak to fight back." Arya seethed.
A memory suddenly came to Sandor's mind as Arya spoke. He remembered now. It was some peasant boy that Arya had befriended. After Joffrey had been savaged by the girl's wolf, he had ordered Sandor to track down the boy since he couldn't lay a finger on the Stark girl and her wolf had gone missing.
"I did as I was ordered," Sandor said simply without any remorse for his previous actions. He had been a monster who had worked for a monster. Now he was a monster who worked for Little Bird.
"You were told to kill a boy and you obeyed?" Arya snarled, a hand resting on her sword.
"I'm the Hound, girl." Sandor barked. "I do as I'm told. Joffrey was a prick and deserved to die a thousand times over, but he was my master and I was his dog to unleash as he saw fit."
"You're no man." Arya spat.
"No." Sandor agreed grimly. "I'm a killer, girl. It's what the fucking gods put me on this shit-filled land to do, and I do it well."
"What's going on out here?" the Little Bird asked, opening the door. She didn't look all that surprised to see her little sister arguing with Sandor. "Arya, has something happened?"
"You're protecting a murderer," Arya replied angrily, crossing her arms.
"Sandor?" the Little Bird asked before she made the same connection he did. "The Ruby Ford."
"He killed Mycah." Arya spat again, glaring at her sister now.
"Arya, Joffrey ordered him to do it." the Little Bird explained. "He had no choice."
"He had a choice," Arya argued. "Everyone has a choice."
The little bird shook her head. "Arya, please…."
"He killed a boy!" Arya shouted.
"Arya!" Lady Stark scolded, joining her older daughter in the doorway.
"Arya, let it go." the Little Bird ordered. "He had no choice." she looked at him. "If Joffrey had not ordered you to kill him, would you have done so?"
Sandor shook his head. "No, my lady."
The Little Bird looked back at her sister. "Arya, please understand that Sandor is a good man who's just….misunderstood," she said. "Mycah's death is not on him, but Joffrey."
Arya glared between him and her sister before storming off. The little bird watched her go, looking a little sad. She sighed and shook her head, glancing at her mother who wore the same sad, exasperated look.
"I'll speak to her tonight." the Little Bird promised before turning towards Sandor. "Clegane, I would have your opinion on something."
Sandor raised an eyebrow, but nodded and sheathed his sword before following the two Stark women into the room.
Lord Stark's solar was impressive. Not too large, but not too small either. Most of the room had bookshelves overflowing with books and scrolls. To one side hung a massive map of the North, showing every castle, village, town, road, and trail throughout the vast region. On the other side was a small side table that held a half-empty pitcher of watered-down wine and the remains of lemon cakes. The desk dominated the center of the room. A massive creation made from solid oak that sat on four thick legs. Three chairs had been placed around the desk. One on one side, two on the other.
On the desk, messages and reports were neatly stacked and organized, no doubt Lady Stark's handiwork, but those had all been pushed to the side as a map had been spread out across the surface, its corners held down by a candle holder, two cups, and another pitcher.
"Besides Lord Harrold, you are the most experienced warrior we have." Lady Stark said, taking her place behind the desk as Sandor stood next to his charge. "This map here is all we know of beyond the Wall."
Sandor grunted and looked down at the map, placing one metal-covered hand on the desk to lean on.
The map was shit, that much was clear. The Wall and all its bloody castles looked to have been drawn with a sure hand, there was nothing of use after that. Forests, mountains, and rivers. That's all the mapmaker had been able to find out about the lands beyond the Wall. There was one settlement beyond the Wall, a place called Hardhome.
"Who drew this?" Sandor asked, looking up at the two women.
"We borrowed it from Lord Cerwyn." Lady Stark answered. "He was the closest lord. Everything in the library had been burned."
Sandor nodded, remembering what the Bolton Bastard had done. "The map is horrible," Sandor said bluntly, leaving his normal amount of cursing. "Besides, you don't need it."
"Why do you say that?" the little bird asked.
"Where will the battle be fought?" Sandor asked.
"The Wall." the little bird answered after a moment.
Sandor nodded, gesturing to the rest of the map. "None of this is useful then if all that is important is this," he said, jabbing his finger into where Castle Black was drawn. "If what your uncle says is true, then we will fight a defensive battle."
"How do you know this?" Lady Stark asked.
Sandor resisted the urge to growl. He knew this because war and killing were his living. All these ladies knew about war and combat were the pretty lies told to them in stories.
"Limitations put your back to the wall," Sandor grunted finally. "The enemy has more men, you dig in and defend. The opposing commander is a better strategist, you give him fewer ways to attack you."
"What if we need to know about the lands beyond the Wall?" the little bird asked.
Sandor shrugged, crossing his arms. "Either the Night's Watch or the savages crossing the Wall will tell us all we need to know," he answered before pointing at the Wall. "This bloody thing is all that matters."
"Thank you for your honesty, Clegane," the Little Bird said softly.
"This is not a conversation you two should be having, my lady," Sandor grunted. "Forgive me, my ladies, but neither of you are commanders nor have you ever stepped foot on the battlefield."
The Little Bird made a futile gesture with her hand. "We just thought that…maybe a fresh set of eyes would help."
Sandor shook his head. "That's not how this works. Fresh eyes help when reading a book. You need experienced eyes when looking over a battlefield. Yours won't help."
"That's a little harsh," Lady Stark muttered.
"It's the truth," Sandor replied, jabbing his finger at the map. "Focus on the home, my ladies. Leave strategy to men like the king and leave the killing to men like me."
Jon Stark
As soon as Jon ducked into the tent, he knew that he was in for a long, one-sided discussion with his father. The lord of Winterfell was standing around a roughly-made table with Mance and his captains, but their discussion came to a stop when Jon entered. Mance and Tormund nodded respectfully towards Jon while the other three just gave him cold looks.
"Gentlemen, Harma, give us a moment," Father said.
The five wildlings began to file out of the room. Mance was the last to leave, but before he did, he put a hand on Jon's shoulder, looked him in the eye, and nodded. Jon believed he knew what the former watchman was thinking. He nodded back and the King-Beyond-the-Wall followed his friends out of the tent.
"Father…." Jon said as soon as they were alone, but his father put a hand up to stop him.
"No, Jon," he said, his voice heavy with a mixture of emotion. "You put me and our family…."
"Father, I….." Jon tried again but was silenced with a look.
"I did not want to make those men traitors," Father continued, "but they became so when they helped you open the gates."
Jon could only nod, waiting for the lecture to come to an end so that he could return to Long Lake and begin preparing any fighting men he could. It also helped since he could get Grenn and the others further from the Wall and away from any vengeance Thorne might send after them.
"I'm proud of what you did," Father said, making Jon's head snap up.
"What?" Jon asked.
"I understand your confusion," Father said, crossing his arms, "but at the end of the day….someone had to dirty their cloak for real change to come about. You were able to accomplish what I could never do. That is real courage, Jon. Putting aside your integrity to help others."
"Thank you, Father," Jon said, stunned with the sudden turn in the conversation. "Does this mean you're not angry?"
"I was at first," Father admitted, "but I realized that I was just worried. Honor is a heavy chain to wear, and I have worn it for so long that it keeps me from doing what must be done. You've shown that, when the need arises, you can take it off and still remain a good man."
Jon nodded. "Will you stay here?"
"For a time," Father answered. "I wish to know more about the King-Beyond-the-Wall and I believe he wishes to know more about me as well. I also have no wish to leave the free folk to Thorne's vengeance."
"What do you mean?" Jon asked.
"Thorne has long been a bitter man, Jon. He despises me and Robert for sending him to the Wall. After a while, men like that can snap." Father explained. "With the Watch's new manpower and resources, I fear that he may use those to his advantage and attack the free folk."
"I see," Jon said. "You believe that if you're here, he won't attack."
"I'm unsure, Jon," Father said. "As I said, men like Thorne can snap and when they do, they're unpredictable. I hope that my presence here will keep him at bay."
"Do you still wish for me to return to Long Lake?"
"No, I wish for you to return to Winterfell," Father said. "I'm sure Benjen has arrived by now and shown the northern lords the wight he carries. I'd rather have you there to organize the war effort than Cat."
Jon nodded. "Of course."
"Where are the five men who were with you?" Father asked, once again changing the subject.
"I've sent them to find shelter at Queenscrown," Jon said. "I planned on retrieving them before I went back south."
"Do so and ride for Winterfell." Father nodded. "I will ride back when I can, but I fear that I must remain here to keep the peace, as thin as it is."
"Do you truly mean to keep your word?" Jon asked. "Will you leave the Watch to its own devices if the Others attack and Ser Alliser is still Lord Commander?"
"No, I will not." Father sighed, "but I have had enough of the damned man. Without his arrogance, he wouldn't have lost five men nor crushed relations with the North."
"Will the Watch name a new Lord Commander?" Jon asked. "Can they?"
"I'm not sure," Father answered, "but anyone would be better than Thorne."
Jon nodded slowly. His father was an agreeable man most of the time, even with those he didn't trust or didn't like, but Thorne had well and truly destroyed all his bridges. Not a smart move when there was the end of the world bearing down on his castle and he needed every ally he could get.
"What were you talking to Mance about?" Jon asked.
"He's currently settling his people among the Gift and New Gift," Father answered, grabbing a nearby map and spreading it out over the table. "His captains will each take a section and keep the peace in the name of the westerosi-free folk alliance."
"You haven't named them citizens of the realm?" Jon asked curiously.
"The free folk are very different from the people of Westeros," Father answered. "I'm sure you've noticed the same. To name them true citizens of Westeros, they would have to agree to the laws of the land, which many do not. When they lived beyond the Wall, they enjoyed a freedom that is uncommon for a common westerosi. So, as of now, it's simply easier to leave them to Mance to govern as he sees fit. We'll deal with the matter later."
"If we live long enough for that to happen," Jon said grimly.
"Aye." Father agreed. "There's that to consider."
"Where have you settled the giants?" Jon asked curiously, looking at his father.
Father smiled slightly. "I have given them their own land to the southeast of Queenscrown in the mountains. There are a few who remained with the free folk."
"What of the mountain clans?" Jon asked.
"There are no clans where I have put them, I've made sure of that," Father answered. "I also sent a rider to Hugo Wull telling him to warn the other clans to steer clear of the area."
"I'll pass by Last Hearth on my way south. The Greatjon deserved to know about his new neighbors." Jon said.
"Good idea," Father said. "I told Mance that raiding would not be tolerated."
"How'd he take that?"
"It helps that you were the one who let his people through," Father said. "He says that he owes the Starks a debt, and keeping the peace will be his way of repaying it."
"It seems some good came from my little stunt," Jon grunted. "I'll ride to Queenscrown in the morning."
"May the gods be with you," Father replied as father and son moved around the table to embrace.
"Same with you," Jon said.
Gendry Storm
These past two years had been a whirlwind for the young smith. After being cast out for reasons he still didn't know, Gendry traveled into the Riverlands with a Night's Watch recruiter before the group was attacked by gold cloaks. As their prisoner, Gendry found himself taken to Harrenhal where he was nearly killed before Lord Tywin saved his life, putting him back to work in the forge.
Gendry fashioned swords and spears for the westermen before the army was routed at High Heart. He then found himself working for Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish. For whatever reason, the old knight seemed to take a liking to Gendry as he immediately put him under the apprenticeship of the best blacksmith in the Starks war camp. The man was not as skilled as Master Mott, but he was still able to teach Gendry quite a bit.
He traveled with the Starks back south to King's Landing, where he worked for the army until the Young Wolf defeated the Dragon Queen and her nephew. The army broke up in the following weeks and Gendry had no clue where his path led. Thankfully, Ser Brynden stepped in once more and sent Gendry with Lord Bryce Caron south into the Stormlands, where Lord Caron dropped Gendry off at Storm's End. The Blackfish had asked the steward of the castle, Ser Cortnay Penrose, to take Gendry in as a favor.
For the past year, Gendry had worked under the master smith in Storm's End, an oddly shaped, hairy man by the name of Hosten. He had massive shoulders and heavily muscled arms, but his legs and hips looked almost comically thin compared to his broader upper half.
Still, Hosten was extremely good at what he did and, like Master Mott, accepted nothing less than Gendry's absolute best work.
"Gendry," a Baratheon soldier said, standing in the doorway of the forge. Master Hosten had traveled into the village to gather materials for an ornate pendant one of Lord Baratheon's knights had asked for so that he could give it to his wife, leaving Gendry alone to work.
"Yes?" Gendry asked, wiping his hands as he stepped away from his work.
"Lord Baratheon and Ser Cortnay have requested your presence in the great hall." the man said.
Gendry nodded quickly. "Of course. I'll be there soon. Just let me settle some things here."
The soldier nodded and strode off. Gendry quickly extinguished the forge and picked up the workshop before washing his hands and face in a barrel of clean water. He set his leather apron on a peg by the door before walking towards the main keep, wondering why he had been summoned.
Gendry never had much interaction with the soon-to-be lord of Storm's End. Edric Baratheon was a younger boy, a few years younger than Gendry himself, but the two had never spoken. Gendry had once forged a hunting dagger for the young lord's last nameday, but that had been a request made by Ser Cortnay himself so that the gift was kept a secret.
Gendry, as always, kept his head down as he walked through the castle, keeping a respectful distance from any important-looking men and women who passed by him. A few of the soldiers who walked by nodded to him. They didn't mind Gendry and he had endeared himself to them through his work fixing their armor or weapons. They didn't care about his name or status, only that his work kept them safe and dangerous in battle.
He stopped before the great double doors that led into the hall. Gendry cleared his throat and glanced at the two men wearing golden tabards over shining silver mail, holding stout spears and kite shields bearing a black prancing stag.
"Lord Baratheon has summoned me," Gendry said awkwardly.
The two guards glanced at each other before nodding and opening up the doors. Gendry took a moment to nod to them before descending the few steps into the massive room. Both sides of the hall had long tables hugging the walls while the great stone pillars that supported the roof were decorated with banners bearing the black and gold colors of House Baratheon.
"Gendry, isn't it?" a young, confident voice asked from the end of the hall.
Sitting on a stone throne, decorated with two charging stags on the armrests, was Lord Edric Baratheon. He was a handsome young man, with shoulder-length black hair and deep blue eyes. He had sturdy features for one so young, but it was clear that he was destined to be a large man when he grew older. The only thing that looked out of place on the boy was his oddly large ears.
What Gendry noticed immediately is that the younger man looked like himself. The same dark, jet black hair and blue eyes.
Gendry caught himself staring and quickly remembered his manners. He bowed deeply and folded his hands behind his back.
"You summoned me, my lord."
When Gendry stood back up, he realized that Lord Edric had a very curious look on his face. He glanced at Ser Cortnay, who flanked the throne, but the bald knight simply shook his head and gave the young lord a look before looking at Gendry.
"Thank you for coming, Gendry, but it wasn't Lord Baratheon who summoned you," he explained, looking past the young smith.
Gendry frowned in confusion before turning to look at the entrance to the hall where a new man was entering. He was tall and wore a strange green cloak with elk antlers attached to the hood. In one hand, he carried a long leather bag. Gendry recognized the metallic clink of weapons tapping together.
"This is the Green Man, from the Isle of Faces." Ser Cortnay explained. "He is the one who summoned you."
"The Isle of Faces?" Gendry asked. "That island by Harrenhal?"
"You've been to the ruins?" Lord Edric asked.
"I have," Gendry answered, becoming hesitant. "I was captured by the Lannisters after they slaughtered the group of Night's Watch recruits I was with. In exchange for my life, I worked in the forge. I left them as soon as I could." he added quickly.
"Lord Baratheon, Gendry, I am happy that you can both be present." the Green Man said, standing between the two young men. "You both need to hear what I am about to say."
"Very well." Lord Baratheon said, leaning forward in his throne.
"You are the last surviving males of House Baratheon." the Green Man said bluntly, causing both Gendry and Lord Edric to react in a similar fashion.
"What!" they both yelled. Gendry took a few steps back while Edric shot to his feet.
The Green Man gazed at Ser Cortnay, whose face was as red as his beard. "You did not tell them?" he asked simply.
The old knight shook his head. "Edric knew. Gendry I wasn't sure," he said, looking at the smith. "Sorry lad. You already had a set path. I didn't want to muddy it up by telling you."
Gendry shook his head. "Wait, stop," he said, grabbing the back of his neck. "I'm a Baratheon?"
"You are Robert Baratheon's bastard son." Ser Cortnay said. "By your age, I'd say you're his second oldest."
"What does that mean for me?" Edric demanded.
"He is not legitimized, my lord." Ser Cortnay said, reassuring the younger Baratheon. "He has no claim to Storm's End."
Gendry wasn't sure what to do. He wanted to smash something, but at the same time, he wanted to simply sit on the floor and think about what had been said. Robert Baratheon. King Robert Baratheon. The man who caved in Rhaegar's chest on the Trident and tore down the Targaryen empire was his father.
"I don't want it," Gendry muttered, shaking his head.
"What?" Edric asked.
"I don't want Storm's End," Gendry repeated. "I don't care about how old I am, I don't care who my father was. I'm just….Gendry. A blacksmith."
Edric looked at Ser Cortnay, who looked just as confused and shocked as his ward. The Green Man simply waited patiently as the three worked through what had been said. After a long moment, Edric approached Gendry and held out his hand. Slowly, Gendry returned the gesture and the two brothers clasped arms.
"You may want to be a blacksmith, Gendry, but you are still my brother," Edric said firmly.
Gendry nodded. "Aye, but fate has taken us this far, my lord. I don't think we should interfere with the paths we're set on. You've been a good lord and will only get better I'm sure. If it's all the same to you, I'll stick to smithing."
Edric smiled slightly. "So long as you remain in Storm's End as our smith, that's fine with me," he said, reaching down with his free hand to unsheath the dagger at his side. He held it up. "I and a dozen others can vouch for your work."
The two brothers shook arms before turning to the Green Man.
"We're listening," Edric said.
"The Long Night comes again, brothers of Storm." the Green Man said, digging into the bag and retrieving one of the weapons from within. "The two of you represent the two halves of Durran Godsgrief, the great warrior who led the people of the Stormlands against the Others."
"The Long Night?" Edric asked. "That's a myth surely."
"No, it isn't." the Green Man said seriously. "It comes again, as you will soon find out."
"You said we represent two halves of Durran Godsgrief," Gendry said. "What do you mean?"
"Durran was said to be a great leader who could inspire even the faintest heart." the Green Man explained. "His great booming voice would echo across any battlefield, rallying every man and woman who could hear him. Bran Stark was the visionary and Lann Casterly was a brilliant strategist, but it was Durran who kept the army together against an enemy as terrifying as the Others and their horde of the undead."
He nodded to Edric. "You, Edric, have inherited this quality from your father, Robert Baratheon. You're a natural leader and you will be instrumental in keeping the forces of Westeros together in the coming war."
Edric squared his shoulders and nodded. "I will, I promise."
"You, Gendry, have inherited Durran's strength and will." the Green Man said. "There were very few men alive who could best the chieftain of Storm Hall on the battlefield. His crushing blows scattered groups of wights in mere moments. He was a man who led from the front, and he carved through the ranks of the undead on numerous occasions."
The Green Man pulled a battleaxe from the bag, though it was unlike any weapon Gendry had ever seen before. Two great shards of black rock made up both axe heads, their edges honed to razor sharpness. Brackets made of bronze kept the black stone connected not only to each other but to the shaft as well. The wood looked to be ash or some other strong wood, reinforced with more bronze that looked to have runes carved into it. The bottom third of the haft was wrapped in leather that looked well worn, but not cracked or brittle.
"This is the weapon of Durran Godsgrief." the Green Man said, tossing the battleaxe to Gendry, who caught it.
Immediately, Gendry was surprised by how well balanced the weapon was. He expected the weapon to be overly heavy, or at least weighed more towards the head, but the weight was evenly distributed throughout the weapon. The smith heft the weapon in his hand, thinking about the damage he could do with it.
"What's this stone?" Edric asked, looking over the strange axe blades.
"Dragonglass, my lord." the Green Man said. "The only weakness the Others have besides Valyrian Steel."
Gendry looked down at the weapon in his hands, then over at his new brother. Edric looked to be stuck between being happy for Gendry and sad that he was not given the honor of wielding his ancestor's weapon.
"Brother, if you will lead us north when the time comes, I swear on my life that I will allow no harm to come to you," Gendry promised, not sure where the words were coming from. On impulse, he dropped to one knee, laying the weapon at Edric's feet. "If you are the voice of House Baratheon, and I, its sword-arm, then it is I who should die before you."
Edric helped Gendry to his feet, grabbing him by his shoulders when he was upright. "We are the last living male descendants of Durran Godsgrief," he said, paraphrasing what the Green Man had said. "We will both fight and die together if the gods will it."
Gendry nodded. "We will fight together," he agreed.
Edric smiled slightly. "You have swung a hammer for some time, Gendry. It's time you learned how to use a proper weapon."