Queenscrown had been abandoned long ago. The wildling raids that had savaged their lands for years had driven off most of the inhabitants. Most of the village had either collapsed, in the process of collapsing, or been taken over by trees. The tower, its merlons colored gold in honor of Queen Alysanne, still stood on an island of its own in the center of a lake. All in all, it was as good a hiding place as there was since it was so far off the beaten path.
Unfortunately for the five traitors, Ser Alliser knew that there were only two places for the five men to hide: Mole's Town and here. It would have been stupid for the former brothers to go to Mole's Town. Not only was it too obvious a spot, but there was bound to be a watchman there illegally visiting the brothel. That left only Queenscrown.
As Janos stalked forward, he couldn't help but smile victoriously. He was once again in a place of power at Ser Alliser's side. All it took was snitching on Stark and his fellow traitors to the Lord Commander and Janos had been welcomed back into his confidence, his cowardness at Craster's Keep forgiven and forgotten about. Now, he would cement his place by the Lord Commander's side by killing the five traitors.
Slynt strode forward into the light cast by the campfire as the other seven figures spread out around the sleeping group of men. They moved like shadows. None of them had drawn their weapons yet, but there was still more than enough time for that. Every man that Slynt had was an experienced warrior and wouldn't shy away from their task. There was only one man on guard. He spotted Janos the moment he stepped into the dying firelight.
"Who goes there!" the man demanded in a weak and terrified voice.
It was the little one of the group with the stupidly large ears. Pyp, Slynt remembered. The man carried a spear, but he was no fighter.
Slynt smirked arrogantly. "Put down the spear, boy," he ordered. "This will go a lot faster if you do."
"What the hells is going on?" Edd grumbled as he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. As soon as he caught sight of Slynt, he grabbed his sword and rolled to his feet. He kicked the burly red-head next to him.
"Get up, lads," he called, waking the others. "We got company."
Slynt cursed quietly as the other three men woke up, arming themselves as soon as they saw Slynt. The former commander of the gold cloaks made a gesture with his hand and his seven men now stepped into the light, drawing their weapons as they did. They were the remains of House Florent, sent to the Wall by Robb Stark after the war. Most were knights, well trained with both sword and lance. Against scum like the five men in front of them, they were sure of victory.
"Ser Alliser isn't very pleased with you lot." Slynt sneered. "So he's sent us to send you on your way a little faster."
"He's sent assassins!" the redhead, Grenn, rumbled. "So much for being an honorable knight."
Slynt shrugged. "You broke the rules."
"We saved thousands of people," Edd argued.
Janos smirked. "You call those savages people?" he joked. "You're all wildling lovers, just like Ned Stark's bastard."
"Fancy saying that to my face, Slynt?" a new voice barked from behind Janos.
Janos turned slowly, only to find the tip of a sword at his throat. Jon Stark, his face clouded with fury, had managed to sneak up behind the group, he and his monstrous direwolf. The beast seemed to glare at Janos and his men as well, a fearsome growl reverberating from its throat. He had seen the beast around Castle Black, always fearful of the damage it could do if it attacked him.
"Say it." Jon snarled, moving his sword forward until Janos felt a trickle of blood slide down his neck and under his collar.
Thankfully, Janos' life was saved when one of the Florent men attacked, forcing the young lordling back with a series of fast, aggressive strikes. Jon immediately turned his attention away from Janos and onto his attacker as the camp descended into fighting. Janos scurried away from the combat, seeking shelter behind a piece of ruined wall.
The albino direwolf tackled one man who tried to stab it with a spear, ripping out his throat before the man could even cry for help. Another man had his head taken off by a savage strike from Grenn while the other massive-looking man, Stoney, caved in a Florent's chest with a maul before squashing his head like a bloody melon. That left three Florents and Janos left.
One of the Florents tried to attack Pyp, the weakest of the group, but he was killed before he could reach the small man. A longsword had been shoved through his back courtesy of Jon Stark. The other two men were cut down almost as quickly. Edd and Toad drove their swords through one man while the second was mauled by the direwolf.
"Come out, Slynt." Jon roared as the other five former watchmen surrounded him.
Jon Stark
Thankfully, none of Jon's friends had been killed in the short, bloody battle. Grenn nursed a cut on his cheek and arm while Edd had a nasty cut just above his eye. Toad, Pyp, and Stoney looked unscathed thankfully. The front of Ghost's face and chest were stained red, but the mighty albino looked uninjured.
Jon flicked the blood from Frost as he planted himself in front of the ruined section where Slynt had taken cover from the fighting.
"Come out, Slynt!" Jon roared, glaring at where the coward was hiding.
Ser Alliser's cowardly right hand slinked out of his hiding place but immediately put his back to a wall as he drew his sword. Grenn moved forward, his axe stained with blood and thirsty for more, but Jon put a hand up, stopping the larger man. Grenn looked at Jon in surprise. He hadn't expected him to stop him from killing the coward.
"What does Thorne have planned?" Jon asked with surprising calmness.
"He just wanted us to kill you." Janos whimpered. "Please let me go. I'm sorry!"
"Let me kill him, Jon," Grenn growled, glaring at Slynt. "I'll open him from brain to balls."
Jon gazed at Janos Slynt, trying to see if the man was lying or not. The man's body language didn't help. He was a fucking terrified, shaking mess of a man who looked close to both tears and shitting himself. Jon feinted a step towards him, and Slynt immediately dropped his weapon and dropped to his knees, holding his hands up to ward off any attack.
"Your truly fucking pathetic, Slynt." Edd spat in disgust.
"Cowards usually are," Stoney added.
"Pick up your sword," Jon ordered.
Janos looked up at the young lord in surprise, but Jon's face revealed nothing. Without breaking eye contact with Jon, Slynt scrambled around until his hand found the hilt of his sword.
"Stand up!" Jon snapped.
Janos stumbled to his feet, still looking scared and confused. Jon let go of Grenn.
"Fight, but if he drops his sword again, let him pick it back up. We might as well try to beat some bravery into him before he goes" Jon explained. The red-head smiled fiercely and nodded. Jon turned towards Pyp and held out his hand. "Spear."
The smaller man immediately handed over his weapon. With it in hand, Jon turned back towards Janos.
"You try to run and this will be coming after you," Jon threatened, reversing his grip on the weapon, "and if I miss, Ghost won't."
Janos glanced between Grenn, his axe, the spear in Jon's hand, and the massive direwolf with the red-stained snout. He gulped nervously and twisted his sword in his hand. It was clear that he knew that he was fucked anyway.
"Begin." Jon barked.
Grenn roared as he brought his axe down in a crushing overhead blow. Janos yelped and backed away, weakly trying to parry the larger weapon. Grenn continued moving forward, scything his axe in wide, shield-shattering attacks while Slynt continued to stumble away, trying to put as much distance between himself and the swinging axe as possible.
"Fight, Slynt!" Jon roared. "Be a man for once in your pathetic life!"
Janos Slynt seemed to take this heart as he gave a half-hearted battle cry and charged Grenn. The larger man grinned and as his opponent got closer, met his charge when he smashed the shaft of his axe into Slynt's face.
Slynt reeled backward, dropping his sword and bringing both hands up to his face as blood poured between his fingers. Everyone had heard his nose break and they were anxious to see the damage done. Jon, using his sword, gently managed to pry Slynt's hands away from his face. The man's nose was twisted in a gruesome angle and blood seemed to pour endlessly from his nostrils. Tears slid freely down his cheeks and mixed with the blood.
"Pick up your sword," Jon ordered quietly.
Slynt shook his head like a child throwing a tantrum. "No," he shouted defiantly, his voice thick from the blood in his throat. "You bastards are going to kill me anyway! Just do it!"
"Yes, we are." Jon nodded, planting the spear in the snow as he crouched down to Slynt's level. Like a parent speaking to an unruly child, he spoke: "Are you unwilling to fight for your life, Lord Slynt?"
Janos Slynt looked up at Jon with pure loathing in his eyes. "Fuck you, bastard."
Jon sighed and stood up. "If nothing else, lads, we've plucked a leech from Ser Alliser's back. I'm not sure if this is a blessing for him or a curse for us."
"The Watch has had its fill of cowards," Grenn grunted. "When the Others come, we can't afford to have any more."
Grenn buried his axe in Slynt's skull, watching as the light died in his eyes before placing a foot on the man's bloody face and pulling the blade free. Slynt's limp body slumped away, his brains spreading out on the snow.
"Now his watch has ended," Jon said grimly before turning to the others. He tossed the spear back to Pyp. "We have a long ride to Winterfell. We need to start as soon as possible."
"Winterfell?" Toad asked. "Why in the bloody hell are we going there?"
"Because war is coming, you blockhead," Edd said, clipping his former brother behind his ear, "and Lord Stark here has a lot of work to do."
"We have a lot of work to do." Jon corrected. "The sooner we start, then maybe we'll see each other in the end."
Asha Greyjoy
The lady of Pyke frowned as her ship pulled into the harbor at Seaguard. Normally, a harbor like Seaguard's would be filled with traders either heading north from the Arbor and Lannisport to Eagle's Roost or the other way around. Now that the Fishers and Ryders had set up towns of their own on the western shore, much more trade was happening between the North and its neighbors to the south.
In place of traders were several longships, many of which she could name on sight. There was Nightflyer, Lord Blacktyde's ship. Lord Goodbrother's and Drumm's ships were on the left and right of her. Further down, Asha spotted ships belonging to Lord Sparr, Lord Saltcliffe, and Lord Orkwood. Standing on the stern of the final ship, one that Asha knew quite well, was her liege lord and uncle.
Rodrik Harlaw, standing on his ship Sea Song.
"What in the blazes is your uncle doing here, captain?" Qarl asked curiously, coming to stand beside Asha.
"He's not the only one," Asha grunted. "There are at least half a dozen other ships that belong to ironborn lords."
"Wonder what drew them out?" Qarl wondered aloud.
It was no secret that the people, especially the lords, of the Iron Islands became very reclusive after their humiliating string of defeats and eventual surrender to Robb Stark. First, Victarion hadn't been able to defeat a group of maesters which ultimately led to the death of his men and himself when his force had been trapped within Oldtown and slaughtered by Ser Fossoway's army. Then Asha surrendered Deepwood Motte even though the battle was already over. The storming of Pyke by Randyll Tarly had been the nail in the coffin for the ironborn. They had suffered immense losses and received nothing in return.
As much as Asha hated to admit it, her father's former bannermen had gotten soft after the war, their heartache and empty war chests occupying their minds as her uncle slowly went about changing things. First, thralls had been returned to the mainland of Westeros, but that was more of Robb Stark's work than her uncle's. Then, whatever remained of the Iron Fleet had been dismantled and given over to lords in the North and Lord Mallister to help them build fleets of their own. In Mallister's case, the ships had gone to help rebuild the Royal Fleet.
One of the first major changes her uncle made was turning Lordsport into a center of trade for Westeros. Although the city was far from the likes of Lannisport or King's Landing, or even White Harbor for that matter, gold was trickling into the Iron Islands at an increasing rate.
Asha knew what her uncle was trying to do. He was trying to show them that trading with our neighbors would prove to be more profitable than taking from them. Asha was sure that whenever the other lords came out of their depression, her uncle would be ready for them, his pockets overflowing with gold that he had earned through trade, not through the iron price.
"We'll find out soon enough," Asha replied. "Nat, bring us alongside my uncle's ship!"
"Aye, Captain!" came the reply from the sailor at the tiller before he began calling orders to the rest of the crew.
Asha had been forced to rebuild much of her crew, but she still had about half a dozen men who had survived Deepwood Motte. Qarl stood head and shoulders above the rest as her calm and steady right hand.
"When we dock, take control here and make sure the ship is put to rights," Asha ordered. "I'll go ashore with my uncle and find out what's happened."
"Aye, captain," Qarl said firmly.
Asha stayed on the bow of her ship as Nat brought the ship into port. There were a handful of dockworkers who were ready and waiting for them, helping tie off the ship as soon as it was close enough. Standing nearby, watching the ironborn ship, was a squadron of soldiers armed to the teeth and bearing the eagle of House Mallister.
"Asha." her Uncle Rodrik said, walking up the dock towards her. He wore no armor and didn't even seem to have a knife at his side.
"Nuncle." Asha greeted, stepping from her ship to the dock and embracing the older man. "What's going on?"
Rodrik scowled. "I wish I had an answer for you, but I haven't the slightest clue," he admitted, obviously annoyed with being in the dark. "You saw the other ships?"
"I did," Asha said. "How many are there?"
"A lot more than I believed would come," Rodrik said. "There's ten, counting yourself and me. Saltcliffe, Orkwood, Goodbrother, Blacktyde, Sparr, Drumm, even Botley and Wynch came."
"How have they been treated?" Asha asked.
Rodrik looked over his shoulder at the soldiers. "Ser Patrek, Lord Mallisters heir and current ruler of Seaguard, has called us his 'guests'."
"Which means that he hasn't thrown any in the dungeons yet, but our every move is being watched at all times." Asha guessed.
"Only the noble themselves have been allowed to leave the docks. The rest of the crew isn't allowed away from the ship." Rodrik explained. "Food will still be brought to them, but the harbor is crawling with men at all times. I've watched them, Asha. The slightest sign of trouble and this place will have us outnumbered at least two to one."
"Ser Patrek isn't taking any chances, I see," Asha grumbled. "Let me talk to the lads and let them know then I'll follow you inside."
"Make it quick, Asha," Rodrik warned. "I have a longer leash than the rest, but it's still shorter than a whore's skirt."
Asha raised her eyebrow. Her uncle was one of the more well-mannered men that she knew and would never use a metaphor so crude. He had to be truly on edge for his manners to be cracking.
"Qarl." Asha barked as she climbed back into her ship.
"Captain." the still-beardless warrior responded, striding past the rest of the crew as they worked.
"Keep a good eye on the crew," Asha ordered quietly when Qarl was close enough. "This place is a tinderbox and we're one fool away from being lit on fire. Understand?"
Qarl nodded quickly. "Aye, Captain, I'll keep the lads in line," he promised.
Asha clapped the man on the arm before returning to her uncle, nodding to him to let him know that she was ready.
"Let's see what all the ruckus is."
Line Break
"Ah, Asha Greyjoy, I knew someone was missing." Ser Patrek Mallister mused as Asha and her uncle entered Seaguard's great hall.
The other ironborn lords sat alone at a table on Ser Patrek's left side. Asha nodded to them as she made her way towards the chair where the knight lounged. All around the room, more Mallister men-at-arms stood on guard, their hands on their weapons and their eyes glaring at their 'guests'.
"Ser Patrek," Asha said when she and her uncle were close enough. "Thank you for receiving us."
"Well, I thought it was a joke when I got a raven from Winterfell telling me to expect men from the Iron Islands." the knight explained. "I stopped laughing the moment your uncle's ship was spotted."
Ser Patrek straightened in his chair and leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. It was now that Asha realized that the knight wasn't wearing any fine silks or velvets. He wore a studded vest and heavy leather gauntlets on his hands. At his side, Asha made out the handle of a dagger at his side and a longsword leaned against one of the armrests of his seat.
"The question is: what took you so long?"
"Got sent a shit maester," Asha answered honestly. "Fucker forgot to check the ravens for two days and I got the message from Winterfell days after the others."
Ser Patrek nodded slowly. "I see. What exactly did the message say?"
"That Benjen Stark is riding towards Riverrun and asked that I be there to see what he has," Asha answered. "Something about proof of a threat beyond the Wall."
"I received the same along with the message telling me to expect your friends." Ser Patrek said, gesturing to the other lords. "It seems that you lot will accompany me to Riverrun."
"Was the message sent to you specifically?" Uncle asked curiously.
Ser Patrek shook his head. "It was addressed to the 'lords of the Riverlands'. Others must've got it as well."
"Do we have any idea what Stark has?" Asha asked.
"No," Ser Patrek answered, "but it caused quite a stir in Winterfell from what I've heard."
"There's also been word that some lords are slowly mobilizing their men, has there not?" Uncle Rodrik pointed.
"There has," Ser Patrek said, "but the men of the North have always been protective of the Wall, much more than us below the Neck."
The knight leaned back in his chair. "I'm sure whatever it is, Benjen Stark will ask us to send aid to our neighbors and friends. The North and the Riverlands have been staunch allies since Robert's Rebellion and none were hit harder than the northmen in the war," he explained. "Whatever the threat is, I have no doubt that it will be easily sent back into the frozen hell from which it came."
"Why do you say that?" Asha asked.
"My great uncle is the commander of the Shadow Tower." Ser Patrek said. "He still sends regular updates. Last I heard, the strength of the Watch has increased substantially through prisoners from the last war and the resources sent from the rest of Westeros has helped rebuild at least one other castle in Greyguard."
"How bad was it before?" Asha asked. She had never truly paid attention to the Wall before. She had been too busy taking over as her father's heir, proving herself to be a true ironborn.
"The wall had less than a thousand men and the three castles that were still in use; Castle Black, Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, and the Shadow Tower. All severely undermanned." Rodrik explained grimly. "The only recruits the Watch could get were from the dredges of dungeons all across Westeros."
"Now they have quite the influx of trained soldiers." Ser Patrek added. "It now helps that the king has ordered his men in the Riverlands to give any bandits they capture the option of the Wall or rebuild villages and towns harmed during the war." the knight shrugged. "Between hard labor and being fucking freezing, you'd be surprised with how many choose to go north. It's no secret that the Night's Watch is back on the rise under King Robb."
"So why do they need us?" Asha asked, gesturing to herself and the other ironborn lords.
"A question you can ask Benjen Stark when he arrives, Lady Greyjoy." Ser Patrek said. "We ride out tomorrow. It takes a little over a week to reach Riverrun from here. I hope you're as good in the saddle as you are on the waves."
"What about our crews?" Asha asked.
"They stay here." Ser Patrek answered immediately, leaving no room for argument. "I will not have hundreds of ironborn tramping through the Riverlands."
"We're nobles, ser," Asha said, his title tasting odd in her mouth. "We will not go riding off into the Riverlands without some sort of retinue."
Ser Patrek frowned and looked ready to reject her immediately again, but he waited a moment before leaning forward, gazing sternly at her.
"You all may take one man," he said, holding up a single finger. "One. Understood?"
Asha nodded. "It is. Thank you."
"Good." Ser Patrek said, getting to his feet and grabbing his sword, sliding it back into his sheath. "My steward will show you to your room. You'll be told when supper is ready as well," he said before striding out of the room.
Asha looked at her uncle, who looked to be thinking hard. "Benjen Stark is Ned Stark's brother, isn't he?"
"He is," Rodrik answered, looking at her. "He's also the First Ranger of the Night's Watch. It's very strange why he's the one riding south."
"Why's that?" Asha asked.
"Because he's usually north of the Wall scouting the wildlings." her uncle answered grimly. "Whatever he has, it has to be more dangerous than wildlings if he's riding the wrong direction."