Starting from this chapter, POVs will not be chronically accurate. I might start the chapter with a character POV and end it with another that is a few days earlier.

  This chapter was edited by Gdiusx.

  17th day of the 7th moon.

  Riverrun.

  Edmure

  “Tywin Lannister is marching south? Not here?”

  “Aye, he isn’t even bothering to loot or burn and is force-marching his army like the hounds of hell are behind him.” Martyn Rivers, commander of his outriders, reported as Edmure stood by a window of his sor overlooking the war camp outside his castle. It was the same camp the Lannisters had built for their siege, but now the Rivernders had turned it into a walled town dedicated to training the levies. A few of his friends and lords were with him when Martyn arrived with some of his riders from the east.

  “Strange.” Edmure idly tapped the window sill, “A sennight ago, his outriders were chased away by Bracken near Stone Hedge. What could possibly have him change course and head south of all pces? Renly Baratheon is dead, and I doubt the Tyrells would be raring for a fight with no king to rally behind.”

  “Mayhaps that’s the point?”

  Edmure turned to Tytos Bckwood, seated on a couch with his magnificent raven-feather cloak spread on the armrest. He was one of the few lords staying in Riverrun with the bulk of his troops, as his castle and nds had remained unharmed from the war due to their location between the Blue and Red Forks. “As you all know, Tywin Lannister’s lightning-quick campaign in our nds had been devastating to the smallfolk, yet he dared not attack any of the castles, fearing getting bogged down in a siege. Especially after the disaster that was the Kingsyer’s siege of Riverrun.”

  Many nods and chuckles sounded out as they remembered Jaime Lannister’s fate as he lounged in a comfortable cell in one of the castle’s towers, treated well for one of his station, yet not allowed to exercise in the yard. Edmure, however, frowned inwardly, for it was a reminder of his foolishness and recklessness to crave glory instead of victory. “Aye, but that also showed some of my lords’ colors.”

  His friends Karyl Vance and Marq Piper scowled at the reminder. Maidenpool surrendered without a fight once Tywin Lannister accepted Harrenhal’s surrender, followed shortly by Goodbrook. The cunning lion had perfectly used the carrot and the stick by burning and trampling their fields, thus forcing the smallfolk to retreat to their lords’ castles with tales of horror and butchery by the Mountain and his men. Many of those castles were well stocked from the years of summer and could easily hold back a siege for years, but with thousands of smallfolk sheltering in or around them, that number would be cut back drastically. Edmure himself was guilty of that, but if that was the price he had to pay to take care of his people, then so be it.

  Lord Tywin was also careful with the treatment of the noble captives, as Robb had received letters from the Northern prisoners in Harrenhal speaking of their good treatment. Whether they were true or not, it had worked as word spread that Tywin Lannister would accept anyone who would bend the knee, with young Lyman Darry following through once the Mountain’s troops were sighted a day’s ride from his castle. Even though that same monster had killed the young lordling’s father, fear was a strong motivator, as the former Targaryen loyalist House pledged their meager forces to the bastard king on the Iron Throne.

  All Rivernds Houses east of Stone Hedge and south of the Crossroads had surrendered to the King's Peace and joined their forces with Tywin Lannister’s army, swelling his numbers to twenty-five thousand. Yet, those numbers meant little as they were poorly trained compared to the Westernders. The Lannister Lord cared more about the supplies surrendered from those keeps that would allow him to campaign for longer and further away from his main base of Harrenhal without wasting time to forage.

  “Despite the few losses we suffered, many of the Riverlords could easily muster a rge number of troops if we were allowed the time to rally the smallfolk into levies and train them. All we need are a few moons to train enough levies into spearmen that would hold the line against the Lannister horse, yet with Tywin’s foragers running rampant, that has proven difficult.” Tytos continued, causing Edmure and his friends to nod along.

  “It’s also why I sent Jonos to his nds to recruit his fabled horsemen from the many holdfasts they are garrisoned in. They have done well so far in beating back those sellswords. Tywin unleashing the Bloody Mummers as his outriders but not deigning to let them know of his change in pns worked well for us.” At the mention of his rival, the lord of Raventree Hall narrowed his eyes but shrugged. The infamous enmity of the two houses was legendary, but it spoke of the common disdain the Rivermen had for the Lannisters that the two lords seemed to tolerate each other more in favor of bloodying the lion instead.

  “Aye, that blustering fool does know how to ride, I suppose.” Or maybe Edmure was being too optimistic. “And no one would trust a sellsword company not to switch sides. Those glorified bandits are scum that need to be put down. Regardless, with Tywin abandoning his march here, it is clear that something grave had happened in the Crownnds. Something that would make him desperate enough to seek more allies despite being in a current position of strength.”

  “We did send an envoy to Lysa in the Vale, and I heard tell some Vale lords were already mustering.” Edmure scratched his growing beard as he remembered the st reports they received from some distant retives of the lords in the region, though he was upset with his sister’s silence. Who would have thought the dies of the realms gossiped so much using their castle’s ravens and that Tytos’ Redfort wife kept in communication with her maiden house? Edmure had hurriedly asked his bannermen to request their wives to gather information from any family from the rest of the realm. “Last I’ve heard from Cat, she was returning through the Gold Road after Renly’s death, but Stannis should still be sieging Storm’s End. Even if he took it today, he would need at least a moon to march to King’s Landing.”

  Suddenly, Edmure’s eyes widened as a worrying thought came to him. He turned to Lord Bckwood, who nodded knowingly. “With Renly dead, the Tyrells suddenly find themselves with the most valuable bride in the realm as well as a hundred thousand swords doing nothing but eating their stores. There is no doubt in my mind that Tywin Lannister is rushing with his troops to meet with the Reach force in Bitterbridge.”

  “I recall the Northmen under Bolton reporting plenty of ravens flying south from Harrenhal over the past sennight.” Martyn Rivers accepted the wine goblet Edmure poured for him gratefully, taking a generous gulp. The Frey bastard had done well in commanding his outriders instead of his uncle, the Bckfish, who had joined Robb in the west.

  “So the Lannisters aim to ally with the Tyrells? While worrying, it is still not like the old lion to rush himself for an alliance instead of sending an envoy.” Jason Mallister, who had remained silent so far, added. “It would make him look weak. I wonder what had spooked the Lion Lord so much? Regardless, I’m more worried about the Ironborn. Has there been any news from the Greyjoy boy?”

  Edmure shook his head. The silence from the Iron Isnds was worrisome, with no news coming from the North either. Riverrun only had ravens to Winterfell and White Harbor, and neither reported anything strange. Still, with Harrenhal lightly defended, retively speaking, this would be their chance to retake it and secure the gateway to the east.

  “Utherydes.” His steward, sitting on a nearby desk sorting parchments and raven scrolls dropped by Maester Vyman, looked at him questioningly. “Write orders for Helman Tallhart to join Roose Bolton and besiege Harrenhal. The same orders for the Leech Lord, but they are not to storm the castle until we receive Robb’s orders. I don’t know what my nephew has pnned, but he must be told of Tywin’s movements. Where was he seen st?”

  “The maester received a raven just now.” Utherydes handed him a scroll with a direwolf’s seal, and Edmure broke the wax to read its contents, a smile blooming on his face.

  “What is it, Edmure?”

  “Robb has taken Ashemark.” The Heir of Riverrun told Karyl, and the rest of the room rejoiced at the news. “He also commands me to hold Riverrun, though I’m unsure what he means.”

  “It doesn’t matter, I suggest writing a letter to His Grace posthaste.”

  “Indeed, do as Lord Bckwood suggests, Utherydes.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The steward quickly scribbled the orders, showing them to Edmure to review, then left to have the maester send them.

  “Martyn, you still have men shadowing Tywin’s army, right?”

  “Aye, they should be sending a report from Acorn Hall soon.”

  “Good. We shall wait for their report, but how about you get a night of rest? I believe we are missing the key mystery that would expin Tywin Lannister’s sudden change in pns. A trip to the inns should answer that.” Edmure grinned as he looked forward to a night or two of wenching for a change, and Martyn Rivers looked interested as well as honored to be offered such. Not many lords would deign to befriend bastards, but Edmure firmly believed in honoring those who showed merit.

  “And naturally, I shall join you, good Ser.” Marq, his closest friend, dragged Karyl along, but the now-married lord did not look as enthused.

  “I shall see to the training of the levies.” Tytos Bckwood sighed in disappointment, and Edmure felt a tinge of regret about it, but he really was seeking information and not just wenching. Not many people realize the amount of tongues that fpped in inns and taverns, and he might travel a bit further than usual to get the juiciest gossip from the Crownnds. Mayhaps the Inn of the Kneeling Man? With Tywin retreating south, Jonos bloodying the Mummers, and the Northmen controlling the Crossroads, more traders would sail up the Trident to the various towns along the rivers. Merchants always had tales to tell, and he had learned of a few brave merchants from the Vale who would be sailing in to rake a profit from his wartorn nds.

  On his way to the stables, he nodded to Cleos Frey and the Lannister escort sent by the Imp discussing something in a corner. Their offer of a hostage exchange would be worthless once they liberated Harrenhal, but there was no need to let them know of the happenings of the realm. Edmure saw Lord Bckwood and his retinue departing for the war camp, where the levies recruited from all over the Rivernds were being trained. The workshops and smithies were working tirelessly to make weapons and arms for them; spears and war picks would be the best weapons for levies, along with crossbows.

  “Ready to ride, men?” Edmure turned to his band of friends and about a dozen guards he picked along the way. The road along the Red Fork was safe, but he didn’t pn to take it anyway. He used a river port near his castle frequently; it shouldn’t take more than half a day to take a barge to the Inn.

  “Aye!” Came the enthusiastic replies, and they rode out under the open portcullis and down the drawbridge, the guards on the walls too zy with the past few moons of peace to notice their liege lord leaving the castle.

  ***

  A day ter,

  Inn of the Kneeling Man

  “Billy, bring us more ale. We have reason to celebrate!” Marq shouted over the cmor of the taproom. The inn was not as crowded as the st time he’d been here, but it would be expected considering the war. The Innkeep shouted something back with a nod, but they saw him preparing mugs on a tray.

  “I think we’ve had enough drinks, we should make our way back to Riverrun.” Edmure had fun over the past day but could not afford to stay away from his castle for too long with a war raging in the realm. A raven from Robb ought to have arrived as well.

  “Just give it another hour or two, milord. We have a trader coming from Wickenden with a batch of beeswax, and he should be here soon.” One of the drinking buddies he found, a merchant named Otho from the Saltpans, implored. “I hear he managed to secure passage through Maidenpool, and his brother was here st sennight saying the man had a friend in King’s Landing during the riots and might have managed to return home. Imagine the tales he could share with us!”

  Edmure was already ecstatic over his niece’s escape from the city, even though there were too many conflicting stories on how she did it. From Renly Baratheon returning from death to fulfill a promise he gave to Catelyn to save her daughter, to fantastical tales of Sansa being a witch and controlling the rivers. Still, he did not need much convincing, especially when Karyl, the more prudent of his friends, remained seated as he talked merrily with Martyn. The rest of his guards were sitting around them at several tables, with no crest to denote their loyalty, but listening to the locals for anything he would miss.

  “Alright then, bring some of those fried fish sticks with your ale.” The Heir to Riverrun called to the innkeeper, who was already on his way with their tray, only to double back to grab the small foods.

  It was another hour when a new arrival entered the inn, and Otho quickly stood up and waved. “Uthor! Over here. I got you some drink and food.”

  Uthor, a man of middling height and age who could be accused of being too fond of his food, made his way towards their table. Karyl made space for the wax trader to grab a chair and join them, and Edmure noticed the quality of his attire that subtly hinted at his hidden wealth.

  “‘Lo there. Otho you old dog, you’re still alive?”

  “Aye, I won’t kick it until I see the damn Mountain ripped to shreds for killing my son.” Their drinking buddy’s jovial face twisted into an ugly scowl as he took a deep swig from his mug; it was why he liked them as they were fighting the good fight against Tywin Lannister’s mad dog. “Now, tell us, what news do you bring from the east? These fine gents are paying for your food and drink and are very curious about the happenings of the Crownnds.”

  “Oh? And who might my patrons be?” The merchant nodded his thanks as he started eating while eying their attire. Edmure had chosen to dress as a well-off free-rider employed under the Brackens as not many merchants were willing to speak to nobles; at least, the st time he tried to, they groveled and cried for the Crone so much it just made him sad.

  “‘Lo there. Name’s Elmo, and eat first, my good man. More ale, Billy!”

  Once they buttered up the merchant with enough food and ale to get his tongue loose, the man eagerly told them all the test rumors and even decrees coming from the Red Keep. And what rumors they were! The Iron Throne pcing an insanely high bounty on Sansa for being a witch? A mysterious savior who destroyed half the city and its walls with demonic powers?

  “You’re jesting?!” Marq’s eyes were wide with shock, and he wasn’t the only one. Edmure noticed the entire inn had gone silent as they listened to the man’s shocking tale.

  “I do not! They had heralds and town criers at every port, town, and city prociming as such. There is even a rumor the royals will employ some of that fancy new creation from Braavos that creates copies of the same paper.”

  “I assure you, ds, of Uthor’s integrity. I’ve known him for decades, and he is not one to blow hot air. The only reason such news hasn’t arrived here would be the war.”

  There were many uneasy mutters and prayers to the Seven, as the smallfolk seemed wary of witchcraft at every corner. Some were ciming they had seen short figures running around the woods tely, while another swore he had seen a massive wolf leading a pack of smaller wolves prowling the nds. Edmure was gd he did not announce himself as the lord of the nds as he heard some of the ignorant masses unknowingly insult his niece, but it would be foolish to feel offense. They did not know any better.

  “Still, such a massive bounty is unheard of, there has to be something else that happened.” Karyl soberly asked, his winestain birthmark darkening with his flush from the drinks he consumed.

  “Aye, you have it right. This is not confirmed as it happened too soon after the act, but did you all know the Hand had sent the princess to Dorne for an alliance?”

  The smallfolk didn’t truly care or seem to understand the importance of such an announcement. Many of them had never left the vicinity of their vilges and did not even know where Dorne was.

  Edmure, however, paled significantly. “Do tell.”

  “See, I travel overnd to the city and deliver Beeswax to the Red Keep, and I speak a lot with many of the servants there. Rumor has it, Myrcel Baratheon was to wed one of the Dornish princes in return for an alliance.” Edmure clenched his teeth, this was not good at all. They were already heavily outnumbered as it was. “The queen and the hand prepared a mighty escort for the princess, at least a dozen ships, to take her somewhere. It was supposed to be completely secret, and no one knew where, but that didn’t matter.”

  Uthor took a break as he drank deeply from his mug, and Marq scowled as the merchant kept them in suspense. “Well, go on, man. Why did it not matter?”

  “Oh, alright.” The merchant grinned, showing a golden tooth. “That same escort? It returned two days ter, battered, beaten, and missing a few of its ships. On that same day, the criers were calling for all to hear about the bounty on the Stark girl’s head and her sorcerer.”

  Edmure chuckled before releasing a full belly ugh as he finally understood what happened. The Lannisters lost their bastard princess, and his niece had saved their arses from a disaster they didn’t even know was coming to them.

  .

  .

  .

  “Bck smoke from the Narrow Sea?” Edmure idly waved at a passing river barge going the opposite way, some bloke in red saluting back. They ended up staying the night in the inn and had just left once dawn broke out.

  “Aye, some merchants from Cw Isle cim the Dragonmont erupted, and the eastern winds blew the smoke all across the Bay of Crabs.” Tom, one of his trusted guards with keen hearing and an iron liver, told him of news he had missed.

  “Strange things have been happening tely, but the Dragonmont spewing smoke isn’t the queerest thing I’ve heard. I doubt it truly erupted, or else the ashes would have made it here, along with many refugees, war be damned. Nevertheless, good job, Tom.”

  The guard nodded, and Edmure stretched as they approached the riverport near his castle. His friends joined him, rubbing their heads from the two nights of drinking and wenching, yet they were eager to disembark. Once ashore, they quickly mounted their horses and hurried to Riverrun.

  The morning sun shined brightly overhead as they trotted down the road, and Edmure couldn’t help but smile at the good tidings to their cause. As they approached the mighty castle of his ancestors, his smile turned to a frown as he noticed a lot of activity on the walls and even across the river at the war camp. They stopped by the closed gates and recognized one of the guards on the walls looking inwardly, which was always a bad sign.

  “Lew! Open the damn gates.”

  Long Lew took one look at him and quickly recognized him. The Heir to Riverrun had switched back to his lordly attire, and the guard scrambled quickly, though Edmure could see that the man was distressed. Once the gate was open, Edmure and his band entered the castle to find himself staring at a strange sight. A dozen Lannister men were dead, while many more were disarmed and in chains. Tytos Bckwood’s face was bnk while Robin Ryger, his captain of the guards, held a bloody rag to his head.

  “Lord Bckwood. What has happened here?”

  The Lord of Raventree Hall’s face quickly twisted into a scowl as he gred at Ryger, who couldn’t meet his eyes from shame. “The Kingsyer escaped.”

  Edmure knew he shouldn’t have counted his blessings.

  A*H*M

  18th Day of the Seventh Moon

  Winterfell.

  Luwin

  “How is he, Maester?”

  “He’s getting better by the day. His fever broke, and his breathing is easier. All he needs now is rest.” He assured the young ss from the Neck as he finished inspecting her brother’s sleeping form.

  “Thank the Old Gods! I don't know what I would have told our parents if something happened to Jojen. The way he colpsed so suddenly…” The young daughter of Lord Reed grabbed a bucket and wet towel as she prepared to wash her brother.

  “I suggest you stay with the young lord until he awakens. It should be a few more hours.” Meera Reed nodded enthusiastically as she wiped the sweat from her brother’s brow. It gddened Luwin’s old heart to see the youth so bright and happy, especially in these dark times. He excused himself from their room as he made his way to the Great Hall to join the young prince for breakfast.

  Life in Winterfell has continued as normal as it could possibly go with its lord, now king, fighting a war in the south. The Northmen celebrated their independence from the Iron Throne and the machinations of the South, yet not all was well. The newly established kingdom of the North was not in dire straits, yet none could deny that recent events had caused a heavy mood to fall over the residents of the mighty fortress of Winterfell.

  Many had come to voice their grievances to their lord about bandits to the east or the reaving Ironborn in the west, yet most left disappointed at the ck of action. It did not help that Prince Brandon had not inspired confidence in his subjects with his demeanor. His injury, while tragic, could have been compensated with good leadership, yet perhaps it was too much to ask from a child who had barely seen his tenth nameday.

  The young prince’s long sojourns in the Godswood with the Reed children did not halt, even after the long sickness of young Jojen, and only his younger brother could force Prince Bran to act as the Stark of Winterfell. It was times like these when Winterfell needed a strong and capable Stark to hold the North, yet there were none. Mayhaps Jon could have taken the reins, for even as a bastard, the records showed the Starks would give plenty of temporary power to their Snows, and if they proved worthy, could be greatly rewarded. Yet, he was a brother of the Night’s Watch now, and they will need to make do with Bran and Rickon.

  Speaking of young Rickon, Luwin had at first been skeptical of the unruly boy’s recent dreams. Yet, the Stark children’s close connection with their wolves was undeniable, and after confirming with the wildling women that there was no doubt they were wargs, he had to reevaluate his view. Naturally, Luwin had been ecstatic to hear this, as he did not share the Northman’s fear of skinchangers and wargs. To a Rivernder like him, those tales were fantastical and far away, yet his childhood dreams of practicing magic never left his mind. Magic was making a resurgence, but they still needed to ascertain the accuracy of the young prince’s visions. Regardless, Luwin was sworn to serve the Lord of Winterfell, and he had practically raised the sons and daughters of Eddard Stark. Even if Prince Bran were not interested in ruling, he would do his best to support him in any way possible.

  As Luwin walked down the steps of the Great Keep to the entrance hall, a voice called out to him. “Maester!”

  He turned to find one of his acolytes, Donnis, swiftly approaching with his hands in his sleeves. Normally, the Citadel would send acolytes with a Maester to support him if the castle was too rge to administer on his lonesome, yet Eddard Stark had insisted Luwin would recruit locally instead. The te lord Stark was known to be quite frugal and was not willing to pay the equivalent of hiring another maester for three acolytes that could not be trusted.

  “What is it, Donnis?” The d was a nephew of the mented Vayon Poole; the steward had been a friend of Luwin as they both interacted a lot due to the nature of their work.

  “Ravens, maester. Several of them, but two in particur, should be of interest.” The young man handed him the bundle of sealed letters from his sleeves before nodding and returning to his duties. Luwin smiled at the diligent attitude he instilled in his disciple from a young age, before frowning at the crests on the letters. It appears he will need to interrupt the young prince’s breakfast.

  ***

  Rickon

  “Prince Brandon, a raven has arrived from Torrhen’s Square.”

  Rickon looked up from his pte of sausages at Maester Luwin’s whisper to his brother, but Shaggydog used that moment of distraction to steal the whole pte. The youngest son of Eddard Stark did not care as he looked expectantly at his brother, only to frown at Bran’s dazed look, probably lost in thoughts over the silence, as he called it. Elbowing his sides, the Stark of Winterfell jerked and nodded to Luwin.

  “What does it say, Maester?” Bran’s voice was low, but the Great Hall listened silently as Luwin approached.

  The old maester gnced at him strangely, and Rickon gred back defiantly, causing Luwin to smile in resignation. “They thank you for the prompt warning about the Ironborn, for they had managed to strike at them near the kes. They were forced to retreat due to their rge numbers. However, Benfred Tallhart did confirm that Theon Greyjoy was leading the Ironmen.”

  “See? I told you it wasn’t just a dream.” Rickon nearly bounced on his seat as he grinned smugly at his brother, ignoring the curses thrown at Theon's betrayal from the listeners. He hardly knew the man, and what little he remembered of him showed a mean smirk and a cocky attitude. “What about the other house? The one with horses, uh… Lyswill?”

  “Ryswell, and yes, they have also sent a raven confirming a skirmish with the Ironborn. Reports from their vassals and neighbors tell tales of longboats sighted all along the western coast, with even a couple of ships beaten off Bear Isnd.”

  Whispers and murmurs sounded out in the Great Hall as Rickon had not bothered to keep his voice low. Some decred the Starks were blessed by the gods, others stared at him strangely, but a few whispered mean words towards his brother, thinking they were unheard. Rickon did not like how Bran was so mopey, but he hated when others doubted his brother. He gred at those who dared question their prince, Shaggydog’s growl helping to silence the hall. He knew it had more to do with Bran not being able to walk again than anything else.

  Rickon had warned Bran about his dream of squid people attacking where the sun sets, but his brother ignored him in favor of staying in the Godswood to learn how to fly. It was silly because wolves didn't fly, and Bran became even more mopey when his new friend Jojo got sick and his sister, Meera, stayed with him. Rickon liked Meera, she was fun. Almost as fun as Arya.

  Seeing that no one believed him, Rickon made a huge tantrum until he got his way. He had to thank Pal for releasing all the hounds into the castle to get the attention he wanted. Thankfully, Bran listened to him and sent those warnings, and now, Rickon could not hide his smug grin as he looked at his brother’s tired face.

  “No word came from Flint’s Finger, however, except the unusual fog they reported a sennight ago persists in Bzewater Bay.” The words made the hall turn somber from their previous festive mood.

  “Perhaps we should continue this in the sor, Prince Bran?” Ser Rodrik gnced at their southern guests, who sat with them on the high table and then at the crowded Great Hall, where many of the castle’s residents were having dinner.

  Bran nodded before looking over his shoulder, “Hod– Walder.” His brother corrected himself at the st moment as the gentle giant approached and carried Bran easily.

  “To the sor, young prince?” The massive man rumbled.

  “Yes, Walder.”

  Finding the giant stable boy acting so… normal still shocked him. Gone was Hodor, and Walder suddenly woke up the same day Rickon’s dreams got so vivid, as if he had always been normal but just didn’t know how to speak. Some cimed it was a gift from the Old Gods, and Ser Rodrik was very enthused when Walder asked if it was too te for him to train as a guard, and he had the gentle giant armed with a massive hammer. Now, the former stableboy was Bran’s personal guard as well as his steed, which made Rickon jealous as he scrambled to join them as they left the hall, gring at the two other Walders that his mother sent here when they tried to follow. A growl from Shaggydog had them remember their pce.

  Summer and Osha joined them as they followed Bran’s group through the covered walkway. Rickon's short legs had him gging until Osha picked him up and carried him on her shoulders, much to his joy. He liked Osha, she was reliable, almost as reliable as Pal. As they entered the Great Keep, Rickon looked outside the windows to find many people going about their day in the castle. Guards were training, smiths were banging on their anvils with bck smoke pouring out of the chimneys, farmers, and shepherds came and went with their produce and animals. He never realized there were so many people living in his home.

  Soon, they were outside the Lord's Sor, and Ser Rodrik looked hesitant to have him join them. Rickon would have snarled if not for Bran waving him in, causing him to grin. Once they were settled in their seats, the old knight spoke again.

  “We need to know if these are just raids or a prelude to an invasion.” Ser Rodrik twirled his whiskers. “If the Ironborn are raiding the Stony Shore, then where is the Iron Fleet?”

  “What do you think, Maester?”

  Rickon scowled as his brother turned to Luwin instead of knowing the answer. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt Bran shouldn’t ask the maester about these things. Even the old man looked a little lost, as though he didn’t know what to say, while the old knight’s eyebrows twitched.

  “I believe Ser Rodrik would be more knowledgeable in matters of war, Prince Bran.” Luwin gnced at the master-at-arms, who looked ready to answer the question once Bran turned to him.

  “Oh.” Only Bran just stared ahead bnkly for a few heartbeats before getting distracted by a bird on the open window. His brother had perked up when he saw it was a raven, only for his face to fall for some reason.

  “Bran!” Rickon yelled in annoyance as Bran’s silence stretched to minutes.

  The older boy frowned at him until his eyes settled on the impatient knight. “What do you think, Ser Rodrik?”

  “It is uncommon for Bzewater Bay to fog over at this time of year, but not unheard of. For it to remain foggy for so long, however, is a cause for concern. Perhaps we should send word to Barrowton to have their men survey the coast from their end?”

  Rickon did not truly understand the terms and pces they were discussing, but he could tell that the grumpy knight was waiting for Bran to decide.

  “See that it is done.” Bran nodded to Luwin after a moment before gncing at him. “Have you… seen anything else tely, Rickon?”

  “No, just running around the castle. Summer loves to py with Shaggy at night and misses his brothers and sisters.” Rickon shrugged from where he sat next to his brother on the long trestle table and perked up when Osha pced a pte of cake in front of him. He bit into the sweet with a smile before noticing the others staring at him silently. “What?”

  “Nothing,” Ser Rodrik gnced uncomfortably at him and then Bran before looking at Osha, who was the first to decre they were wargs, whatever that meant. The maester, whom Rickon knew was very interested in his dreams and always asked to share them, had expined what it meant, but Rickon didn’t know why they would be scared of him running with Shaggy at night.

  “Prince Bran, we still need to capture those fiends that attacked the Hornwoods. Roose’s bastard cannot be allowed to run amok in the nds of your brother's vassals.” The knight’s brows were furrowed as his veins bulged at the mention of that bastard. From what Rickon heard, he was a bad bastard, not like Jon, who was a nice bastard.

  “Didn't you go to beat them, Ser Rodrik?” Bran asked distractedly as he tapped the table.

  “I was going to, but the young prince had warned us of the Ironborn, and you commanded me to stay, if you recall, my prince.”

  Bran’s eyes gzed over, as he always did whenever he was lost in thought, and Rickon growled. His brother had been acting very queer tely, first ciming that some crow with three eyes was going to teach him before abruptly changing his mind and that he will teach himself. Or when he insisted he needed to travel beyond the wall but then changed his mind. Rickon missed Jon, but even he knew they couldn't just go there. Osha said it was a bad pce, and she was a smart woman.

  It was all very confusing, and while Rickon loved it when he and his brother found out they could slip into the skin of their wolves, Bran still had to work as Lord, like Father.

  But Father was never coming back, and Mother was gone and didn't want to return, preferring to stay with Robb. Rickon could hardly remember his face or that of his sisters, but he missed them a lot. Arya, who would py with him, and Sansa, who would sing him to sleep with mother. Jon, who looked and acted so much like Father…

  Shaking his head, he nudged his brother again when he took too long to reply.

  “Did Lord Manderly compin again?”

  “Aye, he warns that if the Bolton Bastard is not brought to heel, he would take matters into his own hands as Warden of the White Knife and call the banners. He is still rightfully incensed over the murder of his cousin Donel–”

  Rickon tuned out the rest of the boring chatter as he yawned. It was nearly noon, and he suddenly felt sleepy, and his eyes grew heavy. Before he knew it, someone held him as he y sideways and fell into the sweet embrace of sleep.

  .

  .

  .

  Rickon woke up with a start, finding himself in a strange wooden house surrounded by the rgest ke he had ever seen. Turning around, he froze, and his lips grew wide at the sight of a woman who could only be his mother… until she turned to speak to a tall man with dark hair and green eyes. Rickon then knew this wasn't his mother but his sister Sansa, and his smile got even wider as he listened to them talk.

  “… Don't expect those girls to adapt overnight. I'm a demigod, not a miracle worker.” The man shook his head as Sansa giggled, and Rickon wanted to call out to her, to hug her and have her tussle his hair like she used to, but like his st dream, he could only watch.

  “I don't know, Percy, raising the sea and controlling ships with your mind as you slip around Stannis’ fleet sounds very miraculous to me.” Sansa gnced around her, and Rickon noticed two more houses - no, ships, following along.

  “You would be surprised by what people like me could do, especially if they were gods.” The man, Percy, shrugged as they walked around the ship, though Rickon noticed he had Sansa's arm looped around his own.

  “Like causing the Dragonmont to go up in fire and smoke?” His sister asked in that same innocent tone she taught him when he wanted an extra lemon cake.

  “Hey, I had nothing to do with that, okay? That isnd literally decided to go bonkers the moment we sailed past it.”

  “Oh, my. So your mere presence caused Dragonstone to have its worst eruption in centuries?”

  “… You call that eruption? Tut-tut, oh my sweet summer child, you have never seen a volcano unleashing its rage before, have you?”

  “Hey, don't use the words I taught you against me.” Sansa spped the man's shoulders, but Rickon could see her smiling. “No matter. How are our dear guests handling their new positions?”

  “The Princess screamed her head off when the dough she was kneading got into her hair, while her friend puked when she gutted her first fish, and the blood spshed in her face. Or was it the opposite? I still mistake them for each other.” Percy sighed in resignation, “I never thought you noble types would be so…”

  “Useless?”

  “I was going to say inexperienced in life, but since you're offering.” Sansa and her new friend chuckled again as they stopped in front of a stall, where a massive bck horse snorted a greeting at them as it munched on a carrot. Percy patted the horse and refilled his water, causing Rickon's eyes to widen as the water flowed by itself into the trough. “I'm gd you are treating the girls well, Sansa.”

  “Better than they deserve. I have every right to take my pound of flesh from Cersei's daughter.” Rickon shivered when he heard the frost in her words; he had never heard her like that before. “Yet, you were right. A child is innocent of their parent's sins.”

  “And you have proven to be the better person; otherwise, you would have been no different from that Cersei woman.”

  “Still, it doesn't mean I will treat them like nobles. As my new handmaidens, they better get used to serving me because that will be their future for a long time if I have anything to say about it.” Sansa folded her arms as she raised her voice towards an open door, and Rickon thought he heard hurried footsteps rushing away.

  “I suppose having the spoiled girls do some hard bor would be good for them. Build character and all that.” Percy ran his fingers through his hair as he frowned and gnced around him, only to stare at a spot above Rickon, causing the boy to freeze. They looked at each other for a moment before Percy shrugged. “Gonna have them join you in your home then? Winterfell, I think you called it.”

  “Yes, but we must stop by White Harbor first. How long until we get there again?” They continued to walk around the ship as they slowly approached where he was standing, unable to move with them.

  “Longer than I anticipated. The sea is foreign, and I have yet to adjust to the wind and the currents. I can sense some things in the depths that I would rather not tangle with when I would need to protect you at the same time.” Sansa grimaced. “Not to mention the two ships you're having me drag along, it's not easy focusing on so many things, you know. Do you really need those ships?”

  “Of course I do. They are our spoils, and we can make do with that extra ship somehow.” Sansa stood there defiantly until Percy shrugged zily. “Now, how long do you reckon until we arrive?”

  “I’d say… ten days or so, if we meet no trouble and the maps were accurate enough.”

  Suddenly, the man’s hand sprung over his head, barely missing him by inches. Rickon could not breathe and watched in terror as the man flexed his fist in the empty air. Percy frowned, and Sansa stared at him in confusion.

  “Percy?”

  “I thought someone was listening in on us, but I might have been mistaken. It didn’t feel malicious–.”

  Before Rickon could think of anything, he started feeling drowsy, and the world turned to mist as he woke up in the sor with everyone looking at him strangely.

  “Rickon! You made us worry when you colpsed like that.” Bran was more awake than any time Rickon had seen him, and then he noticed the rest of the room's occupants. Meera and her brother had joined them at some point, Jojo looking much better than earlier. “Was it… a vision?”

  His brother's question made Rickon perk up. Truth be told, Rickon barely understood half of what his sister and this Percy man were speaking, but he knew one thing for sure.

  “Yes, Sansa is coming back!”

  ***

  Luwin

  “My prince, I must advise against this. Sending a hundred men-at-arms to White Harbor to greet your sister is too much. We don’t even know whether she will truly be there or not.”

  “I have made my decision, Ser Rodrik. Whether my sister arrives or not, this would be a good chance to show Lord Manderly that we care about his grievances. Those bandits under the Bolton Bastard need to be dealt with.”

  “But who would lead the troops? They are far too green to lead themselves, and I can’t leave my duties to hunt for that bastard when the Ironborn could start reaving too close that we would need to sally out to dispatch them.”

  Luwin stood aside as he watched patiently as the rejuvenated Lord Brandon finally decided on a course of action. Ser Rodrik’s concerns were valid, for Winterfell could not afford to lose so many troops when many of the veterans of the castle perished with Lord Eddard in the south. Then, King Robb took the elite of the Stark horsemen and guards, leaving the greenest of men-at-arms. There was never a shortage of men who would be honored to join the Stark guard, and Robb had ordered the coffers opened to recruit as many as possible.

  The casteln had been busy over the past moons training the recruits, yet Winterfell had a severe shortage of captains and men of leadership. It’s easy to find someone willing to swing a bde or loose an arrow in the name of Stark, but to find men with the disposition to lead the troops into battle was far more difficult. Those positions were usually reserved for noble sons or petty houses with a history of command, like the Cassels. It was unfortunate that the North was cursed to have a ck of such men as many had died in recent times; Rodrik’s heir, Jory, was the perfect example, for he would have been the best option for such an undertaking.

  He gnced at the awakened young Rickon, and his thoughts drifted to the wild tales he had mentioned. Lady Sansa somehow escaping the clutches of the Lannisters? Sailing north with three ships and with prisoners? Cersei’s daughter could only be Princess Myrcel, and having her as a hostage would be a great boon for their cause. Still, who was that man with Sansa, and how could he detect Rickon in a dream? Was he also a sorcerer?

  “… Still need someone to lead them, Prince Bran. How will they even make it to White Harbor in ten days with the roads unsafe?” Luwin was brought out of his thoughts to find Rodrik had seemingly resigned himself to the young lord’s stubbornness.

  “If I may, I have a proposal that should satisfy everyone.” The whole room turned to Jojen Reed. The heir to the Neck had woken up earlier and came here like a man on a mission. He looked far healthier than before, yet his green eyes still retained the signs of exhaustion that usually haunted them.

  “What is it, Jojen?”

  “I have also received a vision.” The decration wasn’t shocking, for the young Reed had shown from the day he arrived that he was different. “Not like Rickon’s, but more of a message for me to return to the Neck.”

  “B-But what about what we discussed?” Bran looked distraught, and Luwin frowned. “The training and the journey to the three–”

  “Those would have to be postponed, Bran. Something had changed. The world has changed. I cannot see my death anymore. Magic has returned, and we are not the only ones capable of using it.” The young man’s ominous warning echoed like a bell in the room. “I might be short of stature, but my father still taught me how to rule and lead troops, even if I was ill for most of it. Meera and I could lead your troops down a barge on the White Knife to White Harbor. There won’t be a need for horses once we get there, for I'm sure Lord Manderly would greatly appreciate the reinforcements and provide his own as needed, but we must not have this discussion leave this room.”

  “Indeed, we shouldn't even send Lord Manderly a raven about this,” Luwin added as his thoughts drifted towards a certain Lannister Maester assigned to White Harbor. While maesters were supposed to be sworn to their keeps, old loyalties oft ran too strong.

  They all quickly agreed to keep Rickon’s vision a secret. If it were true, it could change… everything.

  “From the White City, Meera shall stay in the city to await Princess Sansa while I continue to the Neck,” Jojen finished with a yawn.

  It was a sound proposal, and after a bit of deliberation and a confident grin from Lady Meera, everyone was in agreement. Except, something was bothering Luwin. “Why do you need to return to your father so suddenly, Lord Jojen?”

  The young man smiled sadly, “I fear that ill news will arrive soon, and my father needs to be warned about matters of the realm. Ravens are incapable of reaching Greywater Watch, so only a Crannogman could make the journey.”

  A few days ter, after the Reed siblings had departed, dire news did indeed arrive as the young Crannogman foretold - Moat Cailin had fallen to Victarion Greyjoy and the Iron Fleet.

  Bub3loka