My Lady Wife Catelyn,
I and Robb are currently held captive by the Lannisters and Myrcella Baratheon. We are both being treated well. I was injured in battle, but nothing mortal or crippling. As far as I know, Bran is safe with Stannis. The letter I am sending to you is being read by my captors, and it is my understanding that you will also receive a letter from Robb. I pray you, Rickon, and Arya are safe in Winterfell. Sansa should be in Highgarden by now, but we are now at odds with them.
I have missed the North greatly. Ensure Rickon progresses with his training. Let him keep his wolf close. I know not what Winter will bring, but with three declared Kings and a war that will not cease, it shall be a grim one. I can give you no advice, but I trust that you will keep our people safe. Ravens sent to Harrenhal will reach me, and I have been informed I should be able to correspond with you. Forgive me for my absence.
-Ned Stark
Lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms,
I was once called Jon Snow. Now I am known as Jon Targaryen. I am the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. By right of blood, I am the true King of the Seven Kingdoms. I have taken vows to the Night's Watch, and have been released from said vows by the Lord Commander. Such a thing has never happened before, but our Maester says it was never codified into law who can relinquish an oath. Kings have done it in the past, aye, but who is to say the Lord Commander cannot do the same?
I do not seek the crown for my own glory or lust for power. I will gladly lay it to the side once the battle is won. The dead have risen to slay the living. The Others, stories from our darkest childhood tales now seek to destroy us all. I have faced them. I have killed them. The Night's Watch does not have the numbers to stop them. Only a unified Seven Kingdoms can defeat the Others and their army of the dead.
My words sound mad, but this letter is countersigned with all the leadership of the Night's Watch. It is countersigned by men of sound mind and body. The dead are coming. Send your armies with all haste, and if this letter has yet to convince you, send a trusted man or knight to observe what is happening on the Wall.
Winter is Coming.
-Jon Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm.
Cat,
Everything has come to ruin. I have failed as a lord. Father is dead. Lysa is mad. I am captured. My friends and companions dead. The cause of Stannis Baratheon is lost. I want vengeance for our people, for the vile atrocities that the Old Lion has committed, but I know if is he is ever destroyed, it will not be of my making. Your boy, Robb, he will make a fine lord if we all survive this. As for me, the men likely consider me useless. Perhaps it would be best if the Freys rule the Riverlands. As callous and loathsome as Walder Frey may be, at least he didn't bring his people to ruin.
I am treated well in Harrenhal. All my needs are met, save for the ones of pride. As the Starks say, Winter is Coming. Much of the Riverlands has been trod on by various armies. I can only pray that the fighting will end soon. It warms my heart that at least some of your children are safe. If things go badly, it may be little Rickon who will need to inherit Riverrun.
Justice was done at last to one of our enemies, and I can take heart from that. I did not swing the blade, but I helped, and now that bitch is dead. Cersei more than earned her fate. Keep warm in the North, Cat, I'll try to keep Robb company when I can and keep his spirits up.
-Your Brother, Edmure
Lady of Winterfell,
Catelyn Stark, I have only met you briefly, but your love and care for your family was visible to all. You bear a heavy burden in this war. Currently, my grandfather has listened to my pleas favoring mercy over vengeance. I do not know how long I can stay his wroth, for his treasured son, my uncle, is dead. My grandfather's able right hand, Kevan Lannister, has also fallen. I will continue to endeavor to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, but I cannot make promises. I have not spoken of this to Lord Stark or Robb Stark, for they can do nothing with this knowledge that would help their situation.
I want this war done with. You are the Lady of the Winterfell. You can command the North. Instruct them to abandon the cause of my uncle Stannis. Bran Stark is still a boy and has not yet reached the age of maturity; based on the traditions of the Seven Kingdoms, you act in place of the Stark patriarch and heir since they cannot fulfill their duties.
At this moment, we do not require fealty, though in truth that will be necessary, but not until after the winter. All that I ask is that you withdraw your support and have your men return to the North for the duration of the war. The Stark words are Winter is Coming, and they resonate more clearly now as time continues its relentless march. I am reminded of the Tully house words, Family, Duty, Honor. I believe that a perspective of Family demands your agreement so that we can ensure Eddard and Robb are safe. I believe that a perspective of Duty demands your agreement so that the North can prepare and live. When it comes to Honor, I know the choice becomes difficult. Lord Stark swore fealty to my Uncle Stannis. And yet, House Stark once swore fealty to Targaryen, but when survival was at stake, the Starks did what they had to.
Take council with the lords of the North. Stannis has already burnt a sept; if he is triumphant, will he burn the Godswoods next? Discuss it with them, and make ready an answer. Should you accept, upon confirmation that your armies have gone back to the North, I will release Robb Stark. Upon the resolution of Winter, or the end of the war, I will release Eddard Stark.
-Lady Myrcella Baratheon
Mother, I was told I should write to you. Don't blame the Reeds, please, they are just the messaeng messengers. I am needed north of the Wall. Don't send anyone up after me; it is far too dangerous, and they don't have Nymeria or a Syrio.
-Arya
***
Lum stared at the engraving on the monument to Ser Lyle Crakehall. With no immediate plans to turn to the Westerlands, Myrcella had decided to give his remains a place of honor within the walls of Harrenhal. The slab of stone would one day be carved into his likeness, but for now it was just a marker with words etched into it by Lady Myrcella herself.
Battle Cries Resound
Boar Sigil Upon His Chest
Valor In His Veins
Final Breath To Save The King
Ser Lyle's Strength Remembered
Lum liked the words, it sounded almost lyrical to him, but not musical.
If we lose the war, would the memorial remain? Somehow, I think it will. Who would dare take down the work of one inspired by the Smith?
Lum knew many thought Myrcella was the incarnation of the Maiden. He knew her as the incarnation of the Stranger. Anyone seeing her fight in the Trial of Seven could easily see her as the incarnation of the Warrior. He had only talked with the sparrow fellow for a brief time, but the septon had already begun speaking to others on how the Seven are One and simply show a different facet of themselves to humanity. Perhaps all the faithful who are truly favored by the Seven show a different aspect at different times in their lives.
Lum didn't know what to think. He received the sense sometimes that his liege lady did not like the fawning and near worshipful adulation of the followers of the Seven. She was not like a septon or a septa; barring a few references in her speeches, she did not present herself as overly pious. Lum didn't know much about the Seven other than what everyone knew. How was someone who was blessed by the Seven supposed to act? He certainly did not know.
Lum turned his thoughts away from religious matters and to the information he had been given. Lady Myrcella had tasked him to plan, lead, carry out, and 'aggregate' the data his scouts relayed. He would have been fully lost had it not be for Ser Theo, who helped him compile the information and look over maps. Ser Theo's wounds still pained him, and he would bear several scars, but with enough time he would be back to fighting form.
"We've received word from west of Rushing Falls. A village that had converted to R'hllor was burned down." Lum added it to his notes with a frown.
Theo gave a grunt. "War is an ugly thing; it stirs many passions. Our lady would not have wanted a village's homes burnt just for who they worship. See how she treats the Starks? The North doesn't follow the Seven."
Lum agreed with that. A man's Gods were his own.
"What is curious to me is the reason they converted. The survivors of the village told the story that armed men came to town, but not to pillage. They paid for supplies with good coin. While they were there, a boy passed of illness, and a priest, all in red, brought him back to life. After seeing that, they all converted to that Lord of Light," Lum said uneasily.
"It could be true. The Gods touch the world in different ways. It could also just be a story told from person to person, or an elaborate trick," Ser Theo replied.
"Maybe, but there are stories of people being brought back from the dead near the Red Fork as well. And we know the priestess with Stannis could summon demons. They have more power than septons, but I suppose not as much as Myrcella."
Theo chuckled grimly. "If she could, Ser Lyle would still be with us. In truth, I feel that his death moved her more than her own mother's."
Lum shrugged. "There was little love between them. The Queen did not trust or like what Myrcella did, even though she was the most dutiful princess imaginable. Perhaps there was more when it was just the two of them, but every interaction I was near, there seemed to exist just formality."
More reports flowed in, and they would update the map with confirmed information. There didn't exist any large formations of men within the Riverlands outside their control. There were bands of men ranging from 20-200 who could be bandits or enemy outriders. The flow of food was secured by a combination of Ser Gladden's men and Lord Frey's. Some clashes had occurred, but it seemed banditry sought easy prey, not battle with men in castle-forged steel.
The strongest garrison among their enemies was Seagard. Smaller garrisons existed at Maidenpool, Saltpans, and Darry. Darry was nearby, but could not bring in more supplies while Myrcella's forces controlled the Riverlands. It was not a proper siege, but there were always watchers on the castle.
"We've not heard of any movement from King's Landing into the Riverlands yet. A strong force has moved toward Duskendale, according to our friends in the capital," Lum explained after reading another missive.
"Good. Let Stannis and Aegon fight! We'll be better off the bloodier it gets between the two," Ser Theo responded with a certain amount of savage glee.
The next missive was read, and Lum blinked. This… could be an outlandish ploy, or something that could change everything.
"I need to show this to Lady Myrcella at once," Lum told Theo, before quickly heading over to where Myrcella was dining with her grandfather, the King, and Ser Addam.
He nodded in greeting to Ser Perwyn and Ser Barlow before being ushered in. Lum noticed Ser Arys was standing behind Tommen as Myrcella read the letter. The King looked forlorn, and was moving around bits of food upon his plate. After she read it, she passed it to Twyin. Her hand shook slightly, and Lum felt a pang of terror grip his body. Was the letter true, then?
"This is concerning. I have met Jon Snow before, and even corresponded briefly before this mad war began. He struck me as naïve, but earnest. This is in his hand, or a very good forgery."
Tywin set the paper down. "You believe this tale of the Others is true?"
"The Others?" Ser Addam scoffed.
"Perhaps," Myrcella replied, ignoring Addam's comment. "The stories about the Others are thousands of years old, but perhaps they were built on something. Dragons once existed, and they are clearly magical in nature."
"They are? Aren't they just another type of creature?" Lum asked, and then instantly regretted it as the gold-flecked eyes of Tywin Lannister pinned him with a stare.
"I've seen the skeletons of dragons. I've read the Maester's accounts. Such a creature could not have been able to fly using the laws of fiz… nature. Much smaller creatures like birds often have hollow bones, allowing for flight to be possible. Dragons are magical in nature, much like the shadow creature that attempted to kill my grandfather."
Tommen looked concerned. "They are real? The Others? Stories say they can freeze the blood inside you!"
Myrcella gave her brother a smile. "Fret not,; we don't know if they exist. And if they do, they were killed before, so it can be done again."
Tywin handed the letter over to Ser Addam, who also read it. Tywin looked to Myrcella. "If there is truth to it, all the better for our short-term aims. The North will be savaged by those creatures. And Targaryen loyalists may even be split between Aegon and Jon. These are all to our benefit."
"That may be short-sighted of you, grandfather. The Wall is absurdly tall, and may be the best defense against hordes of the undead."
Undead?
"Surely you don't believe we should try to strike to the North with our armies!" Tywin asked with some incredulity in his voice.
"No, at least not until we have some confirmation. I do think we should accept Jon's offer to send trusted men to him and have them report back," Lady Myrcella replied.
"Who do you have in mind for the shit duty of riding across half of Westeros, and then freezing their balls off as winter approaches?" Ser Addam asked.
Myrcella looked down at her plate, and then looked up at Lum. He swallowed thickly. He knew she was going to ask him. Knew it in his bones.
"I'll do it. I've got keen eyes, and Ser Theo is more adept at reading through all the scouting reports."
Myrcella graced him with a smile. "Excellent! Take Ser Barlow or Ser Japar with you, your choice, and fifty good riders. You'll be under a flag of truce, but that may not mean much. You may still be turned away in your journey through the Neck, but do what you can."
Tywin nodded as well. "That's settled then. You were saying something about this 'sparrow' character, before Ser Lum interrupted?"
Myrcella nodded. "Yes, I hesitate to use someone who may be fickle, but if it does not work out, it will not cause any harm. I intend to challenge Aegon to a Trial of Seven. Should he win, we have Tommen take the Black and swear fealty to him, and join his forces to defeat my uncle and his foreign God who burns down septs. If we win, he swears fealty Tommen, orders the Tyrells and Martells to do the same, and we grant him Dragonstone. I suspect he will refuse, which is why I wanted the sparrow and his… flock to loudly demand Aegon accept."
Tywin's brow furrowed. "But what if he does accept?"
"Then we win it."
Lum had zero doubts she would emerge triumphant if it came to that. His only regret would be not being able to win more coin in gambling on the outcome like he did in the first one.
"To leave such a thing to the whims of a single battle…" Tywin began but trailed off.
"Grandfather, trust me. If he foolishly accepts, it will be as crushing of a victory as the one at Storm's End. I suspect he won't, but by refusing to do so, we begin undermining his reputation, and any reputation he may have for valor within the city."
"Careful, your deeds are impressive, Myrcella, but do not cross from confidence to arrogance."
Myrcella nodded. "If you are uncertain, I can demonstrate with a few of your knights."
Twyin shook his head. "No need. You are incredibly gifted and swift with your daggers. Immense talent and youth are often combined into an arrogant swagger that does not allow one to take dangers seriously. I have no objections to you making this move against Aegon."
Lum was then dismissed to begin selecting his men.
Who would I rather ride with? Ser Jaspar or Ser Barlow?
***
The Haunted Forest really wasn't haunted. The noises were not scary. Not at all. Not one bit. Nymeria rubbed her body against Arya's leg, and Arya let loose some of the tension in her stance. It was cold, dark, and maybe more than a bit scary. It had seemed like a grand adventure when she had set off from Winterfell, but abandoning her Stark guards and just taking the Reeds and Syrio with her made it far lonelier. She still felt guilty about giving them the slip. She hoped mother wouldn't be too cross with them.
Syrio had not been happy with what Arya had chosen to do.
"A girl has returned to being a stupid boy," Syrio had said with a sigh. "But the once First Sword of Braavos cannot abandon the girl to the cold. But you will be being more honest in the future. A lie can be told by not moving one's tongue, and it is just as cutting."
Arya had taken the chastisement gracefully. What was important was that he was coming with her! They were five, if she counted Nymeria, and she most certainly did. Five to find a cave with a tree growing out of it. Jojen wasn't exactly sure where the location she needed to go was, but he felt it was to the north and to the east, and near a river. That probably meant near the Antler as opposed to the Milkwater.
Arya had thought she knew what it meant to be cold; she'd been wrong. Fortunately they had plenty of furs, and Nymeria gave off considerable heat all on her own. Curling up next to her was about the only thing that kept the chill at bay.
When Nymeria stirred in the night, Arya instantly woke up. Meera was on watch, warming her hands before the small campfire they had made. Snow fell from the sky, but was also pushed over into her and the fire regularly by the wind. Meera looked at Nymeria.
"Is there something wrong?"
Nymeria gave a low growl, and Meera took up a ready stance with her spear and called out. "Wake!"
Syrio was up in a flash, while Jojen took a bit longer to rise.
Arya's eyes strained to see, but soon she saw torchlight flickering.
"Who goes there?" Meera called out above the wind.
Figures approached. Three bore torches in one hand, and blades of varying size in the other. Two had spears, and one an axe.
"Fuck Varek, I told you these kneelers would keep a good watch. Now it gonna get messy."
Nymeria escalated her growling, while Arya drew needle, the sword her brother Jon had given her. Syrio drew as well, while Jogen just looked at them.
"Let's not be hasty," the lead man with a torch said. "The ways I see it, we can spill blood, some of it our own thanks to that direwolf, or you can part with some of your provisions and that fur coat. Fair 'nough?"
"We will not be robbed like helpless lambs." Syrio walked forward, graceful even in ankle-deep snow.
Arya saw the wildlings hesitate, and then the one likely named Varek spat on the ground. "Spear the wolf and try to take the two girls alive!"
Even as he spoke, the two with spears held them forward and came at Nymeria. Arya moved without even thinking; she glided forward, only to stop suddenly as a spear tip thrust at her. It was short, and in that same instant Nymeria had launched herself, and her teeth ripped into the man's throat. She only bit and ripped for a second before turning on the other spear wielder, who backed away, keeping the spearpoint up.
Meanwhile, Arya saw Syrio's own thin blade skewer the eye of one wildling, while smoothly dodging the axe wielder. Jojen held up his walking staff defensively, but none came for him. Meera thrust at one wildling, who deflected the spear and slashed at her. Meera fell back into the snow to avoid the cut, and the man moved to stab her while she was down. Arya hurled one of her daggers at the man, only for it to bounce off the hardened leather he wore. It distracted him though, and as he turned to see what struck him, Meera stabbed upward with her spear and took him in the groin.
And just like that, it was over. Nymeria had killed the second spearman, and Syrio had done in the others. Arya felt herself shake, and it was not from the cold. This brought back memories of the Tower of the Hand.
"Are you well – you weren't hurt, were you?" Meera asked.
"They didn't hurt me. I even helped. I am well," Arya replied, hating the fact her voice was still shaky.
"A girl did well," Syrio told her.
"My dagger distracted him, but I was aiming for something vital. I'm not sure how Myrcella was so good at it."
"The princess? She is good at throwing knives?" Jojen asked.
Arya nodded. "Yes, she killed a lot of Gold Cloaks with them."
Meera smiled at her. "That sounds like a tale worth retelling. It isn't as if we will be able to get back to sleep so soon after… this."
Arya returned the smile. She could talk. She could speak about something else, something other than being ambushed in the night by wildings. Yes, she could do that.
***
As much as I enjoyed not facing imminent battle, the lull in the fighting concerned me. As best as we could tell, this 'Aegon' was not advancing toward us in strength. Some of his army had moved north, but had remained in the Crownlands. Which was not ideal for how I wanted to bleed him.
I was getting antsy to do something. Part of the issue was having to continue to put on this annoying facade of both being sad that my mother was dead, and pleased that justice had been done. It was expected that I should have some sort of familial respect for her, but once she had proven to be an irrational imbecile, all fondness had faded. My thoughts gravitated toward that pathetic incompetent who'd shoved me onto the tracks, and I recalled that horribly lurching horror I had felt.
I haven't thought of that moment in years.
It wasn't a pleasant thought, so I turned to other things. The idea of an invasion by the dead bothered me. It sounded exactly like something Being X would cook up when his earlier plans to bring me down had failed. I didn't know Jon well, but I got the sense he was trustworthy by nature in my brief time at Winterfell. Lum would get to the bottom of it.
It was time to take another crack at Eddard Stark. I had not yet received a reply from Catelyn Stark, but that was to be expected. I nodded toward Ser Gladden, who was standing watch over the prisoner wing along with four other guards. My Stormguard spent less time guarding my person during the day in my own camp, and more administrating, fulfilling leadership duties, and guarding other important people. My prisoners were important, as was Tommen, and I only had so many competent subjects. It was at night that I wanted to keep my normal two guardians watching over me.
"Wait out here with Ser Gladden, Brienne. Stark won't do anything, and this might go better with less of an audience."
"As you say, my lady."
"Lady Myrcella." Eddard greeted me with a nod.
"Lord Stark. I had a few questions, if you could sate my curiosity."
"If this is another one of your efforts to try to twist my words…"
I smiled at him, showing my teeth.
"I'll let you be the judge of that. This is about a certain bastard who should be on the Wall and serving in the Night's Watch. But isn't."
Eddard's eyes grew wide. "What? What do you mean? Has something happened to Jon?"
"Yes. Oh, he still lives, for now. But some would view him an oath breaker. Tell me, Lord Stark, could you swing the sword as Lord of Winterfell if Jon was caught south of the Wall?"
Eddard grew very still. "Is that what happened?"
"Oh, no, no, no, my lord. If you want details from me, then it is only fair we engage in some hypotheticals."
Eddard's long face grew stern with anger.
"The man who passes the sentence must swing the sword. If Jon broke his oath and deserted the Night's Watch, I would have no choice."
"I wonder if you could do it. But since you answered my question, I will tell you that he has broken his oaths, but did so with the full blessing of the Night's Watch leadership. According to Lord Commander Mormont and Jon, the Others have returned and lead an army of the dead on the Wall."
"What?" Eddard's face looked a bit comical. I'd never seen such a shocked expression on his visage.
"Yes, it seems rather fantastical, but it would take more than a mummer's trick to convince the Lord Commander, and the other senior leaders of the Watch. I believe there is some threat. Bedtime tales for children may have been based on some truths that were distorted and forgotten."
"This makes little sense. Why would Jon leave the Night's Watch if there is a threat of the Others? If he needs to travel south to plead his case with the Seven Kingdoms for aid, he would not need to leave the Night's Watch. Black Brothers travel abroad all the time."
"I'll tell you what, Lord Stark. You answer me one question completely truthfully, and I will give you Jon's letter, as well as explain all the details I know."
"What is the question?"
"You have to agree before I ask it."
Eddard frowned. "I will not betray Stannis over this. I will not share any of his stratagems, the movements of his men, or anything of the like."
"Nothing to do with military tactics, strategy, or even my uncle. Do we have a deal?"
"Yes, Gods curse you, I swear it by the Old Gods – I will answer truthfully one question."
"Who are the real parents of Jon? Mother and father, please."
"I…" Eddard trailed off, a look of helplessness on his face.
"Ah, not so easy, is it? I can only assume that you have another oath also binding you. A real frustration, that. When oaths to an individual conflict with another one? Do you see the horns of such a dilemma? You gave your oath to my uncle, but you no doubt also swore somewhere to be a good leader. When does adhering to honor stretch too far?"
"You don't understand what you are asking of me."
"Lord Stark, I do. Jon proclaims himself to all the realm to be Jon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen, and Lyanna Stark."
I handed him the letter. It was a good thing that Eddard was rather fit; otherwise, he might have had a heart attack. I let him read the letter in silence.
"This is madness…"
"Well, he is a Targaryen, isn't he?" I prodded.
He closed his eyes. "Gods be good, yes. He is a Targaryen. I killed three Kingsguard to get to my sister, but it was too late to save her life. Did you know that no one questioned why three Kingsguard were in Dorne instead of protecting the King, the Queen, or Prince Rhaegar? I was terrified, and yet no one bothered to ask me about it."
I doubted he would be telling me this all if it wasn't for his emotionally compromised state, but the floodgates had opened. He regaled me with how he found Lyanna and Jon. How he lost several of his friends fighting the finest knights of the realm. How he knew the death of Ser Arthur Dayne would destroy the knight's sister, the Lady Ashara Dayne. How he promised Lyanna to protect Jon,always.
"Thank you for sharing this with me. I imagine holding on to such a secret for so long must have been a burden."
My HR training told me I had to make some empathetic statements before moving to the closer here.
"Now we come to the crossroads. Even if Stannis believed you and Jon, that still makes Jon a Targaryen bastard. Stannis will never allow him to be a King. Nor would he consent to allowing Jon to retake the Black, given that he has already left it the first time. What will you do? Break your promise to Lyanna? Break your oath to Stannis? I do not envy the predicament you are in, my lord. But perhaps we can come to an understanding – you can keep your lands safe from these 'Others,' and you can reunite with your nephew."
Eddard lowered his head, and his shoulders slumped. Finally. Finally, I had him where I wanted him.