Chapter 15: Preparation

The next morning when Jon awoke, he was pleased to see that his new wife was still fast asleep. The sun had already risen in the distance, and a few small rays entered through the shutters, providing just enough light for him to admire the beautiful kunoichi by his side. Jon smiled as he gazed at her exquisite features. Though Tenten rarely appeared concerned, there was an ever-present tension on her face when she was awake, a constant wariness as she went throughout her day prepared for anything. As she slept, however, it seemed to Jon as if all those cares had vanished, her countenance a calm and untroubled visage of serenity.

I could spend the rest of my life here staring at her and I wouldn't regret a single moment of it, Jon realized. At times, it was almost painful how much he loved her.

He remembered when he was younger and had overheard Theon regaling Robb with tales of all the women he had been with, mostly whores, Jon suspected, though Theon claimed that he had also shared his bed with many women without having to pay for it. At the time, Jon had been curious, perhaps even a little jealous, though his fear of fathering a bastard had ensured that he'd never desired to emulate the older boy. Now, however, he recognized Theon's boasts for the empty words they were. He knew with absolute surety that even with his many bedfellows, the Ironborn heir had never experienced even the smallest fraction of the love that Jon felt for Tenten.

Jon settled his head back against the pillow as he continued to watch his new wife, soon finding himself entranced by her long, slow breaths. Theon could keep his horde of loose women; Jon had someone so incredibly precious that all the whores in Westeros could not compare.

Almost as though she had heard his thoughts, Tenten stirred, eyes snapping open quickly to observe her surroundings before relaxing once more as she focused on him. Her typical expression of guarded caution slowly faded, and a sultry look appeared as she shifted, bringing a smooth leg up to rub against his own.

"Good morning, husband-sama." The allure in Tenten's voice was almost tangible, promising every kind of carnal pleasure imaginable.

Jon swallowed deeply. "Good morning, wife-sama," he returned evenly – or at least, as evenly as he could, given how incredibly tempting she looked with her tousled hair and the sheet having fallen forward to reveal one exquisite breast. Judging by the amused smile on her ruby lips, he hadn't been as successful as he had hoped in concealing the thrill her words had sparked in him.

Jon could feel his wife's hand tracing small circles on his stomach, gradually drifting lower and lower. "You were very passionate last night." Tenten was now pressing up against his side, her breath hot against his ear. "Such ardor should be rewarded," she whispered as she shifted so that she was on top of him, her face just inches from his own.

To Jon's surprise, however, she made no move to draw nearer. In fact, she began to pull away from him, her dark, smoldering eyes remaining locked on his own even as her face seemed to grow smaller and smaller. His breath caught as Tenten grasped his manhood, then slowly lowered her head toward it. Somehow, despite the overwhelmingly sensual nature of his wife's actions, Jon was not yet completely aroused, but that state did not last long. One long, slow lick brought him to full hardness, and he closed his eyes and let out a soft moan as Tenten began to use her tongue to play with the top of his manhood.

Soon, the teasing ended, and he felt himself engulfed in warmth. He looked to see Tenten's head moving up and down rhythmically as she pleasured him, her loose, dangling hair doing only a little to hide his manhood as it entered her mouth. He stared, transfixed, at the most erotic sight he had ever imagined as the heat in his loins grew stronger and stronger. Finally, it was too much for him to resist. With a soft cry of, "Tenten," he allowed himself to release, his head falling back on the pillow as he reached his peak.

He could feel Tenten's lips leave his manhood, and she leaned forward so that he could see her once more, though she continued to gently stroke him with her hand. A thrill ran up Jon's spine as she slowly and very deliberately swallowed, and he couldn't help but stare as his wife slowly licked at the remnants of his seed that still adorned her lips.

Overcome with a rush of genuine affection mixed with a very healthy dose of lust, Jon grabbed his wife by the shoulders and spun her so that she was laying on her back, then began to kiss and fondle her body, beginning at her magnificent breasts and gradually making his way down past her taut stomach to her already moist core. Tenten's moans of pleasure were music to his ears as he reached his destination, positioned her legs over his shoulders, and began to repay the favor.

Needless to say, the newly wedded couple was quite late to breakfast that morning, a fact which amused Robb to no end.

Ned let out a sigh as he saw Catelyn fussing over their elder daughter. His wife had not responded well to the prospect of losing so many of her children, and now was spending almost every waking moment fretting over them, with the girls receiving most of the attention, to Bran's not-so-hidden relief. While Sansa seemed to be enjoying the attention, it was abundantly clear that Arya did not. Indeed, it had reached the point that his younger daughter often started scowling whenever his wife so much as looked at her. The frequent comments about her hair (which was still quite short after the escape from King's Landing) or her regular exercise and training with Tenten were widening the gulf that had separated mother and daughter for years.

Frustrated, Ned shook his head. He had seen this all before, between his sister and their father. He knew how it would inevitably end if he did nothing.

"Cat, you need to stop," he said that evening after they had retired to their quarters. "You do not agree with Arya's choices, and that is fine, but you need to acknowledge that they are her choices to make. All you are doing is driving her away."

"I am trying to help her, Ned. She doesn't understand the effect these choices will have on her life," his wife retorted angrily. "If you cared at all about our daughter, you would do the same."

"I do care about our daughter," he snapped back, furious at her implication that he didn't. "I love her, and I will always love her, no matter if she is not a perfect southron flower." His eyes narrowed. "I wonder if you could say the same."

His wife flushed, but fire burned in her eyes. "You don't have a problem with her actions because you don't understand what it is like to be a woman in this cruel world of ours! Always judged on our beauty and decorum, our worth is weighed and measured solely in our appeal to others. There is no creature so miserable as an ugly woman."

"You think Arya is ugly?" Ned was outraged.

"NO!" his wife shouted back. "She has the potential to be beautiful. But instead, she runs about like a wild animal rather than learn to behave like a lady should. Uneven hair cut as short as any boy's, covered in dirt and sweat… what man would want a woman like that?"

"I'm sure she will find one someday, and he will treasure her all the more for it," Ned countered.

His wife scoffed. "Perhaps in some savage tribe of the North, but in the civilized world, people have other expectations of women."

Anger flared in Ned at the casual slight against his homeland, and he had to bite his tongue to stop the sharp retort that came to mind. He knew that Catelyn had never truly accepted the North. She despised the cold, and still felt uneasy in the Godswood.

No further words were spoken that night, but sleep was a long time coming for them both. And when Ned arose the next morning, he had made his decision.

"The armies will be marching soon. I will send a sufficient escort with you, but you must return to Winterfell with all possible haste. Rickon needs his mother."

Catelyn's mouth tightened, but she nodded curtly. "I am sure that the girls, Bran and I will enjoy being at our home."

Ned took a deep breath. "Bran may not be as pleased, but yes, I imagine that Sansa and Jeyne will be glad to be in Winterfell once more."

Cat looked at him strangely. "Arya, as well."

The moment of truth. "Arya will not be going with you. She will accompany me to lay siege to Harrenhal."

His wife did not say a word, but the expressions of shock, horror and rage painted on her face spoke volumes.

Finally, she found her voice. "An army is no place for our daughter!"

Ned refused to be swayed. "You had no concern traveling down here with the army. I daresay that if she were attacked, Arya would stand a better chance of defending herself than you would."

"Why?" Catelyn demanded. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"Publicly, I will claim that it is because Arya's bond with Nymeria would be a great boon for the army in tracking enemy scouts, and to allow her to spend time with her betrothed."

"And the real reason?" Cat's voice was like ice.

He looked her right in the eye. "Because if I send her home with you, it will only be a matter of time before she decides that she has had enough of your attempts to turn her into a proper Southron lady, and leaves Winterfell."

"The guards would not let her leave."

Ned couldn't help the incredulous look he gave his wife. "Arya was able to flee the Red Keep and evade the Lannister search patrols for weeks on her own. In Winterfell, where she knows the castle like the back of her hand, she would be a ghost in the darkness. Unless you intend to board up her windows, lock her doors and have her escorted everywhere by soldiers, you'll never keep her there."

Catelyn refused to back down. "If that's what it takes…"

"I will not allow my daughter to be made into a prisoner in her own home," the Stark lord thundered. "You have shown that you are not willing to respect her choices, and if I leave the two of you together, that will only end with her vanishing. Since you cannot accept that she will never be the sort of daughter you want her to be, it is better for all of us that she stays with me."

"Very well," his wife snarled. "I will not make any attempt to force her to behave. She can act like a wildling if that's what you want. But she will be coming home with me."

"No," came Ned's resolute response. "You have made your position clear. You speak the words, but you don't mean them. Just like you never meant it when you promised to treat Jon well."

Cat's cheeks took on a reddish tint, and her lips tightened into a scowl. "Is that what this is really about? Old grudges over how I acted because you lied to me?"

"This is about what is best for our daughter," Ned replied harshly, eyes narrowed. "I had hoped that you could see that, but whether you do or do not, it makes no difference. I have made my decision. You have always told our daughters that a Lady must obey her Lord Husband. It is time for you to follow your own words."

There was rage in Catelyn's eyes like Ned had never seen. "Fine," she spat, then turned and left their chambers.

A few hours later, Ned was once more on the tower, watching as Ser Raymun Darry and a force of about two thousand Rivermen marched east, hoping to impede Tywin Lannister as he traveled south. If they could secure the south bank of the Ruby Ford, they may be able to at least stall the Westron army. It might even be possible for them to take Harrenhal, but Ned wasn't particularly optimistic about their chances on that score.

If nothing else, they would be able to better secure Ser Raymun's castle, ensuring that the River forces had a stronghold in the area, greatly aiding in their ability to lay siege to Harrenhal.

The sound of a man clearing his throat drew Ned's attention, and he turned to see Tytos Blackwood standing a few paces behind him.

"My apologies for disturbing you, Lord Stark, but there was a small matter that I wished to discuss with you."

"No apology is necessary, Lord Blackwood, and please, call me Ned."

"Then I insist that you call me Tytos," the Riverlord replied with a gracious nod of his head.

"Very well, Tytos. What is it you wished to speak with me about?"

Rather than responding immediately, the other lord strolled over to the rampart overlooking the large courtyard below. Ned followed, and glanced down. Here and there men and women could be seen going about their tasks, and off to one side, Jon and Tenten were once again teaching Bran and Arya.

"I understand that your younger daughter will be joining us at Harrenhal."

Ned sighed. It hadn't taken long for that piece of information to spread. "You and all of Riverrun."

Tytos smiled at the weak joke. "Yes, news does travel fast around a castle."

"If you've come to convince me that I should send my daughter back to Winterfell, I'm afraid that you're wasting your time," Ned cautioned.

"No, quite the opposite. From what I've seen of Lady Arya, I can't imagine she would appreciate being tucked away while a war is being waged. Much like Lady Mormont or her daughters."

Ned studied the other man for several seconds. "Then why is it any of your concern?"

Tytos looked out over the battlement before responding. "Raventree Hall isn't that far from here. Now that Tywin has the only hostile force remaining in the Riverlands, I will send for more of my men to join us at the siege, and a few of my sons will accompany them, including my fourth son, Edmund." He glanced over at Ned. "We call him Ben. I was hoping that you might be interested in taking him on as a squire. He's a good lad, a hard worker." There was a noticeable pause. "Only a year older than your daughter."

Ah, now I understand. "You do remember that Arya is betrothed to Elmar Frey," he reminded the other lord.

Tytos chuckled. "You don't hide your feelings as well as you think," he remarked with a significant glance. "When you look at the Freys, it is clear that, in your mind, you are not looking at your future family through marriage. You are looking at interlopers who are trying to claim what does not belong to them. You're looking for a way to justify breaking Arya's betrothal, and Robb's too, I would guess."

Ned said nothing, but his silence was confirmation enough, it seemed. Tytos nodded. "I thought so. It's understandable, and I wish you the best of luck. And if that should happen, I would be honored if you would consider my son an acceptable suitor for your daughter's hand."

"I must admit that I am surprised," Ned confessed after a minute, still refusing to acknowledge that he was, indeed, hoping to end the betrothal. "Arya is willful and adventurous. To hear my wife tell it, no proper Southron lord would ever consider such a girl any great prize."

"Your wife may not agree with me, but when I look at that young woman down there, I see someone with great courage and fortitude. Not a delicate flower, but a fearless woman who can stand strong, undaunted by the challenges of life. I can think of no traits that I would consider more desirable for my gooddaughter to possess."

Ned stared at the other man. "You are certainly correct. My wife would not agree with you."

Tytos laughed, then stroked his close-cropped beard thoughtfully. "Perhaps it has to do with our heritage," he said finally.

A confused frown crept across the Northern lord's face at this abrupt twist in the conversation. "You believe the traits we look for in an ideal wife come from our heritage?"

Tytos nodded slowly. "When I was a lad, I was told stories of my family, of great deeds and mighty men in an age long ago, as I'm sure you were as well. And I grew up wanting to be like them. So, when I judge a woman to see if she would be a good wife for my son, I do not look at her skill in what some might call the feminine arts." He let out a soft laugh as he shook his head. "If I want someone who can sing, I will hire a minstrel. If I want someone who can sew, I will hire a seamstress. I want my sons' wives to help them become the men I know they can be, and to give them strong children who will bring honor and renown to our family."

The Lord of Raventree Hall fell silent for a moment, thinking. "I do not mean to disparage your wife or her family, but I believe that her house has a different outlook. House Tully has never stood on its own; they have always pledged themselves to a more powerful patron. When they heard of the men of great renown in their ancestry, the tales were of wise stewards, or of valiant knights fighting nobly for their king. It is not strength for themselves that they prize, but the glory they gain in service of a more powerful liege. And it has worked well for them," the tall man added quickly. "House Tully serves with honor and has been richly rewarded. But they are always quick to put themselves in the shadow of a greater house. Even Ser Brynden gladly accepted a place as an advisor for your son, when many, even among the North, acknowledge his military prowess and may have been willing to follow him."

There was a brief pause, but eventually, Tytos spoke once more. "Truth be told, if offered a choice between your daughters, I would prefer one of my sons to marry Arya over Sansa, particularly in these difficult times."

Eddard was surprised by this statement, so very different from what he had expected based on his understanding of Southrons. "I've already promised Arya that she will not be forced to wed against her will," Ned admitted. "If you would like to bring your son to Harrenhal, that is your choice. And if they become friends, that could bode well for the possibility of a marriage in the future. But so long as the betrothal with the Freys stands, I can say no more on that matter. And I imagine that Lord Frey will insist on Elmar joining our camp as well." Ned couldn't help the scowl that formed as this thought passed his mind but knew that until he had found a reason to call off the betrothal, he had to at least play along.

"Well, my Ben is an adventurous lad," Tytos remarked with a smile. "I imagine he'd get along well with your daughter. We'll just have to see."

"You should be able to feel warmth from my hand going into yours." Tenten sat cross-legged on the floor, her hands outstretched, palms up, while Arya sat in front of her, eyes closed, her hands resting on the kunoichi's. Nearby, Jon, Robb and Ned-sama watched silently.

"I feel it," the younger girl replied, her voice revealing the excitement she felt no matter how much she struggled to hide it.

"That is the chakra that I have gathered. Your chakra is reacting to it. Now, I am going to push that concentration of chakra into your body. Focus on accepting and moving the chakra to your other hand. Remember, you do not grab it and pull; you do not force it. You must gently guide the chakra."

Not surprisingly, Arya failed the first several times they tried the exercise, just as she had the day before, and the day before that. After about a quarter hour, however, she was finally able to direct the energy from one hand into the other.

"I did it!" the dark-haired girl exclaimed as she wiped the sweat from her brow, a testament to the effort such intense concentration required.

"So, harder than you thought?" Jon asked teasingly.

"It's like trying to move an arm that I don't have!" the girl complained, flushing. That was understandable, Tenten thought, given how she had insisted that she would be able to channel chakra the first night she tried.

Tenten laughed. "Yes, it is difficult to learn, but you did very well today. You are learning quickly. Now, just one more thing I want to show you tonight, then we will be done. Remember, when you practice, do not overwork yourself. It takes patience and time, and it can be dangerous if you push yourself too hard."

Arya nodded eagerly, clearly thrilled at the idea of learning something new.

Tenten grabbed a large oak leaf from a pile next to her. "This is called the leaf-sticking exercise," she informed the watchers as she demonstrated the technique, holding her hand out with the leaf adhered to her palm. "This is the first step to learning how to walk up walls. You must control your chakra, shaping it so that the leaf sticks to it, but you must also focus to use the correct amount. If you use too little chakra, the leaf will fall," she explained as she cut the flow of chakra in her hand to a bare trickle, and the leaf floated back down to the floor. "On the other hand, if you use too much chakra, it will cause the leaf to break and tear." She once more demonstrated this.

Arya eyed the pile of leaves with excited determination, but Tenten stopped her before she could even begin. "We have practiced enough for today. You should rest now. We will work on it again tomorrow evening, but if you want to practice during the day, that is fine, but no more than half an hour," she ordered sternly.

Arya sighed, but nodded.

"Well done, Little Wolf," Ned-sama said proudly, a small smile on his face as he embraced his younger daughter. "Now why don't you go see about a bath?"

The expression on her face made it obvious that Arya was not pleased with this idea, but the girl made no complaint as she left the room.

After the door had shut, Ned-sama turned to face her, his face an unreadable mask. It was a moment before he finally shared what he was thinking. "Bran spoke to me today," he began. "He knows that we are teaching Arya something. He apparently overheard Jon and Arya speaking."

"I'm sorry, Uncle, I…" Jon tried to apologize, but the Stark lord cut him off.

"An apology is not needed, Jon. We knew Bran would learn at some point. Perhaps it's only fair that he know, I just don't want him to feel as though he is being shunned, especially for something he cannot control." He turned his attention back to Tenten. "Are you certain that he cannot learn to use… chakra?"

"I can try to teach him, like I have taught Arya and Jon, but I do not think he will be able to. But there is no harm in trying," she decided. "If he can, it would be good for him to begin learning now. He is at just the right age."

Lord Stark nodded before turning to his oldest son. "Robb, please go get Bran and bring him here. If there is a chance that he could learn, we should at least explore that possibility." Robb dipped his head in acknowledgement before leaving the room.

Silence filled the room. "How long do you believe it will take for Arya and Jon to become proficient in chakra?" Ned-sama eventually asked.

Tenten frowned in thought. "I really do not know," she admitted. "Normally, I would have said a few years, but both are learning much faster than I expected. Perhaps they will be capable in just months instead of years. Arya is learning faster than Jon did," she teased her husband gently, who took it good humor. "But that makes sense because she is younger. As for both of them learning more quickly, I think it may have something to do with the direwolves. I suspect that the bond they have is built from chakra, so, without realizing it, they have begun learning to control it ever since the pups were born."

"I've been having those wolf-dreams more frequently," Jon admitted.

"I have noticed," Tenten replied dryly, smirking at her husband, who blushed a little.

"My point is that lately during those dreams I've had the sensation that I can control Ghost." The young man frowned. "No, that's not right. I'm not controlling him, it's more that we're both there, but I'm the one that makes decisions for us." Jon shook his head. "That's still not quite right, but I think that I'm getting close to being able to warg into him."

"We should speak with Robb and Arya, see if they have noticed the same thing," Ned-sama mused.

Just then, the door opened, and Robb escorted a nervous-looking Bran inside.

Eddard watched silently as Tenten and Bran sat on the floor, palms touching while Tenten walked him through some simple breathing exercises to help his chakra flow more easily. He still didn't understand precisely how this strange, magical force worked, but he no longer doubted its existence, nor that Tenten could teach others to use it as well. Jon was now able to retrieve items from the strange drawings Tenten called storage seals, though it often took him a few tries, and while Arya wasn't even at that point yet, there was no doubt that his wild daughter was making progress.

He had hoped for his son's sake that he would, indeed, be able to learn, but given that it had been nearly an hour and Bran could not even sense the chakra Tenten had gathered in her hand, it did not seem probable. Arya had been able to do so on her first try. In fact, Robb had as well, though his oldest son had reluctantly decided that he simply did not have the time to focus on learning the esoteric skill, especially since his age meant that he would never be as skilled in wielding chakra as Arya or even Jon, who had been subconsciously learning to channel chakra for more than a year thanks to his training with Tenten. Robb was working with Jon on learning everything his cousin had discovered about warging, though, and had apparently made some progress in developing his bond with Grey Wind.

Finally, Tenten stopped. "I do not think there is anything else we can try," the foreign woman confessed with obvious regret.

Bran looked as though he were struggling not to burst into tears. "It's because of Summer, isn't it? Jon and Arya can do it because they still have their direwolves, but because Summer is dead, I can't anymore."

"I don't know," Tenten replied gently. "That could be it, or it could be something else. Perhaps somehow you strained your chakra network when you were younger."

"It's alright, Bran," Robb added, trying to console his brother. "I'm not learning, either. I'm too old."

"But you could if you wanted to," the younger boy argued.

Ned had to admit that his son had a point. There was a massive difference between choosing not to do something, and not being capable of it.

"Bran," Tenten began, putting a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "Do you remember my stories about my friend Lee?" Bran nodded miserably. "There is something I never told you. Lee… could not control chakra either. Just like you, he had it in his body, but he could not control it the same way that most shinobi can. But that did not stop him. He worked very hard every day and trained his body to use chakra naturally. It made him incredibly strong and fast. In fact, in a normal fight, he would beat me almost every time," she admitted. Ned was heartened to see that Bran was now looking at the young woman with a small degree of wonder mixed in with his anguish.

"And I can do that?" his son asked in a small voice, though Ned was relieved to hear traces of hope in his tone.

"Yes, you can," Tenten promised with an encouraging smile. "When you are ten and two, I will teach you like my sensei taught him. Even if you cannot control chakra with your mind, you can teach your body to use it, and you will be a mighty warrior. You will need to work hard and be very diligent, but I know that you can do that."

Bran had left, and the sun had long since set, but the four remained in the room, pouring over maps and discussing options. Her initial explanation of chakra to Ned and Robb had been rather quick and limited, so inevitably, Tenten was at times required to explain more about what chakra could do when she made suggestions. And more often than he would like to admit, these in-depth explanations of her abilities left Ned and his heir staring at her in amazement.

"Ned-sama," Tenten said, laughing. "You have seen me use fūinjutsu to carry food and gold in a piece of parchment. Does it really surprise you that I can use it to make a big explosion?"

To this, the Stark lord had no real response. It was true, the magic Tenten had demonstrated was far beyond what Ned had ever believed possible, but, still, there were some things that just beggared belief. "I suppose I shouldn't be so amazed, but… truly? You could destroy a bridge by yourself?"

The young woman nodded proudly. "That is the sort of thing shinobi do during a war. In my land, there are men-at-arms called ashigaru, but shinobi do not normally fight alongside them. We are sent out in small groups to fulfill important objectives, like destroying essential bridges, spying on the enemy or capturing supplies. Sometimes, assassinating enemy leaders, though I have never done that."

It was a mark of just how much he had changed over the past months that Ned did not immediately condemn such methods as being reprehensible. No, his time in the Black Cells had forced him to reevaluate his idea of honor. That was not to say that he immediately agreed with it, however.

"In Westeros, many people might consider such methods of warfare to be dishonorable," he replied cautiously.

Tenten shrugged. "What is honor? What does it mean? I think, for a military leader, honor is making clever decisions so that as many of your soldiers survive as possible. Sometimes, fighting a battle is not the best way to win a war."

Ned frowned. On the one hand, he knew there was some truth in what Tenten was saying. But he had also seen where that could lead. "I do understand, and I agree with you to an extent, but surely there must be some limits. Tywin Lannister claimed he was just making hard but necessary decisions when he had the young princess and her baby brother brutally murdered."

To her credit, the foreign woman looked horrified at the idea. "That it is not about being clever in war! A baby or young child is not a threat. But why is it bad to kill the leader? Most soldiers in Lannister armies have done nothing wrong. They were born in the Lannister lands, so they serve their lord. Is it more honorable to kill thousands of them than to kill the ones who started the war? You could kill ten thousand Lannister soldiers and the war will continue. But if you kill the Lannisters, the war will be over."

Ned contemplated this idea for a time. Cut off the head, and spare the body. There was a certain logic to it.

Tenten, however, hadn't finished. "But, I also think it is important to think about consequences of actions. If you do something very devious, perhaps people will not trust you, so that will cause problems in the future. So, you should always be careful, and sometimes the sneaky way is not the best, even if it ends the war the fastest. I do not know the people of Westeros, so I do not know what is best. That is why I will tell you what I can do, but you make decisions, not me," she finished with a cheeky smile.

"She has a point, Father. That's the burden of being the Lord Paramount." Robb laughed. "Or the king, eventually, if Greatjon gets his way," he added.

While Ned was normally restrained in displaying his emotions, he couldn't help the smile that spread on his face. Every lord hopes that his sons will grow to be strong successors. Most are not so fortunate as to live long enough to see that happen. Robb, however, had already proven that he would be a strong and capable lord when the time came. Despite his youth and relative inexperience, Ned was proud of his son. Both of my sons, he mentally amended, for he considered Jon to be just as much of a son as Robb.

His mind turned to what Tenten had said, and he found his thoughts drifting back to her report of how she had rescued he, his children, and Jeyne. Despite his engrained instinct to dismiss her methods as dishonorable, Ned could not deny that by any measure, Tenten herself was a very honorable person. She could have remained in the Reach, or even traveled up to Winterfell to aid Robb. Instead, she had accompanied Jon to King's Landing, risking her life when she didn't have to. And while the idea of pretending to agree with Littlefinger to find out where the money was only to kill him may seem dishonorable on some level, in truth, it was a cunning move. Even Ned could admit that. Tenten was honorable enough to stay loyal even when offered an outrageous sum of money, but then clever enough to see that the money could still be useful.

He had also been pleased to note that during their travels, though Tenten was quick to eliminate enemies and bandits without remorse, she was generally kind and polite to even the most humble of commoners. Kill your enemy and take his resources. Cut off the head, and spare the body.

Ned shook himself out of his thoughts and was unsurprised to see that the conversation had continued without him.

"What about those chakra weapons you mentioned earlier. Could you make anything like that?" Robb inquired.

At this Tenten seemed to pause consideringly. "I do not know. There are legends of powerful weapons, like those used by the Sage of the Six Paths. I cannot make anything like that, but there are weapons made of metal that can conduct chakra. When I was younger, I worked in a blacksmith's shop. I learned a few things. I do not know if it would be enough, but perhaps if I worked with a blacksmith, I could make some."

"If chakra metal is some sort of magical material, I wonder how similar Valyrian steel would be," Jon suggested, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"I had not thought of that," the kunoichi confessed.

"After the war is over and we get Ice back, perhaps you can study it," Ned offered. He didn't want to risk any harm coming to his ancestral sword, but even he could admit that if Tenten had clues that might help them to rediscover how to create the renowned metal, it would be worth it.

"I wonder if we could use the idea of small groups of soldiers to strike at the Lannisters where they don't expect it," Robb mused. "Obviously, we would need more than just four people because they won't have chakra, but I do like the idea of disrupting the enemy supply lines or attacking their couriers."

Ned nodded at his son's words. "I think you may have a point, Robb. And, in fact, it goes along well with something I had been considering." He sighed. "You know that for as long as you have been alive, Barbrey Dustin has despised me. Do you know why that is?"

"Her lord husband, Willam Dustin, died at the Tower of Joy," Robb replied, frowning in confusion.

"In my grief at the loss of my sister, I made some foolish decisions," the dark-haired man admitted, looking down at the map on the table, his eyes drifting over to the Prince's Pass, where the Tower of Joy had been located. "She has always claimed that she hates me for failing to return her husband's bones, but I suspect that is just an excuse, that she does not want to admit that it is because Willam died while accompanying me." Ned turned his focus back up to his son. "I worry that this battleguard of your may have a similar effect were some of the young men who have joined were to fall."

Robb shifted in his chair, and Ned hurried to reassure his son. "I do not say this to criticize you. In your place, I would have done the exact same thing. In fact, I did. And many noblemen died at the Tower of Joy. Perhaps if I had been accompanied by a few score men-at-arms, things would have been different. But I cannot help but wonder how someone like Rickard Karstark, for instance, might react if one of his sons were to die defending you. Rickard is a good man and loyal, but I suspect that he would continue to harbor some resentment in such a case."

"I can hardly dismiss them now," Robb protested. "To do so would be an insult to them."

Ned couldn't deny that his son's argument was valid, but there was something he hadn't considered. "It would be an insult if not for the fact that we can give them another duty, one that we say is more fitting for sons of lords such as them."

Not surprisingly, Robb was quick on the uptake. "Give them command of the bands of men we were just discussing," he realized.

"Precisely," Ned agreed. "I believe that we can avoid giving any offence if we show them that we still value their skills and fighting prowess, but that we intend to make use of those skills in another way."

Before Robb could reply, a knock sounded on the door, and a guard entered.

"Pardon, m'lord, but riders from the Twins have arrived with a message from Lord Bolton." The soldier stepped to one side, and three mud-splattered men in the livery of House Frey entered, their leader producing a scroll from his pouch.

"Thank you," Ned replied perfunctorily as he took the parchment. Just because I am displeased with their Lord is no reason to blame the men-at-arms. "Ensure that they have beds and food," he told the guard before turning his attention back to the Frey soldiers. "I will likely have a message for you to carry back to your lord on the morrow."

All four men bowed and exited the room, and Ned turned his attention to the missive in his hands. Despite the length of the message, Ned found himself looking sorrowfully at Robb after just a few moments.

Remorse and shame filling him, Robb struggled to look at Daryn Hornwood as his friend entered the room. My plan. My fault. He had, of course, known that men would die in the war, and that the forces he committed to the diversionary attack would suffer losses. But it's so much more real when it's the father of my friend.

"You summoned me, my Lord?" Daryn inquired politely.

"Yes, Daryn," Father began. "It is my sad duty to inform you that your father was killed in battle with the Lannisters."

It was obvious the moment the meaning of the words finally hit home. Daryn paled, swaying slightly as his mouth dropped open, though no words came out.

"Your father was a good man. Honorable and true," Father continued gently. "I know this is no comfort, but he will be sorely missed."

"Thank you, my Lord," Daryn uttered, his voice hollow.

"As you are now the last of your family, you will need to return North. My wife and children will be leaving in a few days, and I would be honored if you would join them."

"The honor would be mine," Robb's friend all but whispered, struggling not to lose his composure.

"You are dismissed, Lord Hornwood," Father finished, bowing his head respectfully.

At these words, tears began running down the young man's face, and he quickly turned and fled.

Robb wanted to rush after him, wanted to apologize, to explain that he hadn't intended for this to happen, but he knew that no words would help his friend now. And a moment later, it was too late, as the door shut behind Daryn with a heavy thud.

Robb turned back to the other occupants of the room. His father's expression was unreadable, but Jon and Tenten had only sympathy on their faces. It didn't help, though. He sat down in his chair heavily, staring at the table.

Ned watched the young man leave with a heavy heart. There will be many more before this war is over. His son was clearly distraught over the outcome of the battle, blaming himself. Ned remembered all too well the guilt that a man felt when others died because of his orders. It was something that every good man struggled with.

"Robb, I know that you regret what happened, but you need to understand that it wasn't your fault," he stated. "This is war, and sadly, men will die."

"I know," the boy whispered. "But, it wasn't supposed to be like this. I didn't want them to attack like that. They were just supposed to be a diversion holding the old Lion's attention."

"It was a bold move. Had it worked, the war may have been over," Ned replied, though his mind was racing. Roose Bolton had been careful with his forces during Robert's Rebellion, but according to the report of the battle, the opposite was true here. Is it only when men loyal to him are dying that he is cautious? Judging by the list of the dead, wounded and captured, Bolton hadn't seemed to have any problem throwing away lives that would be more loyal to the Starks.

Or am I being too suspicious? After the betrayals I suffered in King's Landing, am I now seeing traitors everywhere? For the first time in his life, Ned felt a strange sort of sympathy for Aerys Targaryen. Is this what it was like for the Mad King after Duskendale?

"What were the precise orders you gave Lord Bolton, Robb?" the Stark lord asked, trying not to sound excessively harsh or judgmental.

"To take the forces I gave him south from the Twins to delay Tywin Lannister's army, and keep his attention on them so we could attack Kevan unhindered," his son replied after a moment. "Or, something to that effect."

Ned sighed. Perhaps his son could have been clearer, but the instructions should have been adequate. Still, it was hard to condemn a man who had, technically, done what he had been told to do, even if it was in a way that had not been expected.

"Do you think Bolton did that deliberately?" Jon inquired. "Attacked Lannister knowing that many men from the other houses would be killed in order to weaken them, while preserving his own forces?"

"I don't know," Ned admitted. "Looking at Bolton's report, that is possible, but it is by no means certain. I will send orders for his force to march south to join us at Harrenhal. Once I have discussed the matter with the other Lords that accompanied him, I will have a better idea. Either way, those men will no longer be under his command."

"Who is Lord Bolton?" Tenten inquired. "Where is he from, and why do you all sound like you do not trust him?"

"House Bolton and House Stark have a long history," Ned replied. "Many wars have been fought between our houses." He glanced toward his son. That alone should have made you cautious about trusting him so much. Ned kept this thought to himself. His son already blamed himself more than he should, no reason to add to that guilt. And it wasn't like Ned was free from fault when it came to trusting the wrong people, as evidenced by the way he had been betrayed in King's Landing. "I would have thought that ancient history, but it is possible that House Bolton has not forgotten that they were defeated and forced to submit. Their sigil is a flayed man. According to the stories, in ages long past before flaying was banned, they skinned many Starks and wore their skins as cloaks."

Tenten's eyes narrowed. "His house symbol, is it a red man on pink? And his castle, it has tall walls, with merlons shaped like triangles?"

The three men in the room looked at her in surprise. Jon spoke first. "That's right. How did you know?"

"While I was traveling south from the Wall, at first I stayed away from any people because I was concerned about the Night's Watch, but after several days, I decided I was far enough away that I did not need to worry about them. I followed roads to a large castle, but when I watched the people, I could see that the smallfolk in the towns were very scared, so I did not go to the castle."

"The walls were dark grey, almost black?" Ned asked, and Tenten nodded. "There is only one castle in the north with dark walls and triangular merlons. That was the Dreadfort." He ignored the amazement he felt at the idea that it had only taken several days for the young woman to travel from the Wall to the Dreadfort while on foot.

"I am sorry I did not tell you earlier. At the time, I did not know enough about Westeros to know if that was normal."

Unfortunately, Ned couldn't deny that smallfolk having good reason to fear their nobles was more common than he would like. There was little he could do about that, even within the North. But still, the fact that it was so obvious that Tenten had not only noticed, but it had been enough to convince her not to approach the castle was concerning. And thank the gods that she didn't. He just barely refrained from shuddering as he imagined what might have happened had she approached them.

"Does that mean anything?" Robb asked. "I don't remember it being like that when we went there a few years ago. But I wasn't paying much attention to the smallfolk," he confessed.

Ned shook his head. I didn't pay attention to the smallfolk, either. "I don't know what that means," he admitted, though inside, he couldn't deny the ominous chill that filled him at this news. No, I certainly won't be trusting House Bolton anymore.

The next day, Robb looked with a mixture of pride and remorse at the brave men (and one woman) who had volunteered for his battleguard. He had come to know each and every one of them though they had not actually seen combat together. And now, they never would – at least, not in the way that they had all expected. His thoughts turned back to Daryn, who was preparing for the journey back to his home. Though he still felt regret at what had happened, there was nothing he could do to change the past, he could only try to do better in the future. With one last glance over at Jon and Tenten, he stepped forward, drawing all eyes to him.

Naturally, the massive and impetuous Smalljon Umber was the first to speak. "So Robb, what'd you call us all here for?" the heir of Last Hearth boomed.

"I've been speaking with my father, planning the actions that we will take in this war, and I have come to realize that I have done you all a grave disservice," Robb began. Not surprisingly, this statement was met by frowns, but he continued before anyone else could speak. "You are the sons… and daughter," he added, looking at Dacey, "of lords and ladies. You were born not to guard men, but to lead them! I have no doubt that I would have been safe with you by my side, but there is a more important task for you all to fulfill."

The Stark heir looked around at the young nobles gathered in the courtyard. "Tywin Lannister knows that he cannot trust his own lords to act for themselves, either because they are craven, or because he fears they will try to usurp him. We will use this weakness against him. This war will not be won by large armies, but rather, by bands of elite soldiers, led by the bravest and most valiant warriors of the North and the Trident. Unlike the old lion, I know that each of you can be entrusted to achieve great tasks, and so that is what we will do. You will form small battlegroups of your own, at times operating independent of the main army, or at other times fighting alongside it, the pillars of strength that will guide and inspire the regular men-at-arms."

So far, they seem to be accepting it. When he and his father first discussed this unorthodox decision, Robb had been concerned that the men gathered here would be insulted that he was dismissing them from his guard, but that didn't seem to be the case. "Each battlegroup will have between eighty and one-hundred men, and the soldiers will receive an extra silver stag each week from Winterfell's coffers, as well as the first pick of weapons and armor recovered from our enemies. My father and I plan for no more than one dozen of these battlegroups, most of which will accompany me when we attack the West, while the others help with the siege at Harrenhal."

"If you will pardon my intrusion, Lord Robb, what exactly will these… battlegroups… be doing?" Ser Wendel Manderly inquired.

"As I said, while they will, at times, be fighting alongside the main army, they will mostly be fulfilling key objectives beyond simple battle. For instance, when we attack the Lannister force rallying at Oxcross, we will, if all goes well, take them unawares. While the bulk of our forces will attack the camp and engage the Lannister forces, the battlegroups will push deep into the camp to capture as many enemy nobles as possible. It will be dangerous, so take care when selecting the soldiers who will accompany you, but having skilled bands of warriors able to act independently will give us a great advantage that will end the war that much sooner."

Robb could tell that not everyone was convinced, but that was fine. He had one more card to play. "Some of the battlegroups may choose to focus on specific tasks. As an example, my brother Jon and his wife, Tenten, are already assembling a force of their own for an especially important purpose. Unlike the other groups, they will only have a few dozen soldiers in their battlegroup, but their band will be unlike any Westeros has ever seen. Using the skills Tenten learned in her homeland, they will be tasked with sneaking into our enemy's castles and opening them for our army."

"How will they do that?" Dacey asked.

"By climbing," Robb replied simply. "See for yourself," he added, gesturing over at Tenten.

Tenten, who had been equipped with a long rope ladder, already coiled and tied to her back, approached the Wheel Tower, and to the obvious surprise of the gathered nobles, began to quickly climb. Robb was sure that she was using chakra to aid her ascent, but to anyone unaware of her secret, it appeared that she was scaling the rough wall naturally, as Bran often did back home.

Within two minutes, she had reached the battlement at the top, secured one end of the ladder and tossed the other down.

Robb turned back to his comrades in arms. "When we assault a castle, Tenten will go first. Once she has reached the top, Jon and the rest of his men will follow. If possible, they will seize one of the gates to allow the rest of us to enter, or they will prepare more ladders then hold the wall until we join them. Either way, we will need the bravest and most skilled warriors to enter the castle first. That will be your battlegroups."

"That was an impressive feat," a voice called out from one side, and they turned to see the Blackfish standing there. "But if you are going to use stealth to attack a castle, you'll have the best luck at night. Can she climb the tower even if she can't see the nooks and crannies in the wall?"

Tenten, who had descended the ladder by this time, gave just one word in response. "Yes," she said, then grabbed a piece of cloth and tied it around her head like a blindfold. Hushed whispers could be heard as she walked back over to the tower, arms outstretched so that she could feel when she arrived. Then, without a moment's hesitation, she began to climb once more. She went much slower this time, feeling around with each hand until she found a suitable hold.

Turning back to the gathered nobles, Robb almost laughed at the sight of men staring open-mouthed as his cousin's wife slowly made her way up the wall, until she finally pulled herself through one of the crenels. His mother's uncle, he noticed, did not appear surprised, but rather, was nodding to himself with a look of understanding on his face as though a suspicion had been confirmed.

"Those fookers won't know what hit them," Smalljon whispered, his voice filled with awe.

"Precisely," Robb agreed. "Just like they won't know what hit them when your battlegroups attack. For as long as anyone can remember, war in Westeros has always consisted of massive armies charging at each other. But this war will be different. We will strike hard and fast in a dozen different places, leaving them so bewildered that they have no chance to resist when we finally hit them with the main force. And it will be all of you that are the key to this victory."

A/N – Just a quick note on Ned. I know that a lot of readers think that his obsession with honor is incredibly stupid, and I do agree that he goes overboard with it. But I think it's also important to remember that the North absolutely loved Ned – to the point that even after the Stark cause seems to be hopelessly lost, there are still many in the North who are proud to stand up and declare their allegiance to the Starks. Hugo Wull would consider it a good death if he and his men die trying to rescue 'the Ned's little girl'. Even children like Lyanna Mormont and Wylla Manderly remain loyal, despite everything that loyalty has cost their families. Clearly, Ned must have done something right to win that much respect and devotion.

Compare that to Tywin, who I think many perceive as being a superior lord because he is more cunning and ruthless than Ned. Yes, his actions benefitted the Lannisters in the short term. But look at his legacy. With him gone, House Lannister is falling apart. Though they currently seem to have a military superiority, none of their allies can truly be trusted, and we're already seeing the effects of that. In short, people were only loyal to Tywin because they were afraid of him, and that fear is now gone. But the North remembers Ned Stark, and if GRRM ever finishes the series (which is looking increasingly unlikely, in my opinion, given that Winds of Winter isn't even the last book) I think the North's loyalty to his children will be what ends up saving all of Westeros when the Starks finally return home.

Also, thanks to reader LrLlak for making the cool new cover image for this fic!