Welp everyone, I'm back! After 5 long months I've finally finished this one off. I can give a lot of reasons as to why I had such a delay, but it can all be summed up to life. Dealing with my own mental health and getting in a better place (relatively) and also a significant career change that is taking up a lot of my time and family. So yeah, free time is non-existent lol.

I want to thank everyone that has reached out, either through reviews or PMs. I apologize for not responding to you. But yeah, I've been taking a much needed break. But hoping to get back on track with things. This chapter is a bit shorter than normal. I usually try and aim for 20k in length before posting. But I decided I'd made you all wait long enough and felt like I'd hit a good stopping point.

Big thank you to my beta reader and brainstorm partner Tellemicus Sundace, who personally wrote an entire section of this chapter, helping me immensely! Lastly, I do not own Disney, nor am I Lucas or Martin; I have no ownership of A Song of Fire and Ice, Game of Thrones or Star Wars. This is purely for fun with no profit being made. And with that out of the way, let's get to the chapter! Stay safe out there everyone!

Chapter 46

For perhaps the first time since he'd lost his wife, he did not want to drink. But he did so anyway. The wine was all that was allowing him to deal with what he was learning. What the entire Small Council, or the few that were left, were learning from Varys as the eunuch spoke of what had transpired over the previous night.

"By the time the sun had risen, the yard was said to be ankle deep in blood. Word has spread throughout the city that it took nearly three wagons to remove all of the dead and dismembered limbs. Already the bards are spinning their tales of the 'Night of Blood.' Many are claiming that Good King Joffrey laughed with each punishment he ordered. And that he drank and bathed in the blood of the cont—"

"Silence any and all who dare speak such foulness regarding my son, our king." Cersei demanded.

"Of course," Varys nodded, the man looking completely at ease despite everything. Unsurprising, he supposed. The man did serve as Master of Whispers under the Mad King for years before Tyrion's brother slew him. "Though I fear I must report that some of the loudest of these tales are coming from the gold cloaks themselves."

At this, Tyrion did wince. The smallfolk talking ill towards the king was nothing new and little more than a nuisance. But the gold cloaks speaking ill of the king? That was a much larger problem. Doubly so now after Stannis had declared himself King and was positioned perfectly to launch an attack by sea. They needed every skilled arm manning the walls. But more than that, they needed those skilled arms to be loyal to Joffrey. "Any gold cloak caught speaking such slander will be handed over to the Inquisitors on suspicion of treason." Tyrion spoke up, surprising all in the hall. "Any gold cloak that abandons his post will be executed for desertion."

Everyone in the Small Council Chambers was staring at him with varying amounts of surprise. The most shocked being his own beloved sister. "Men talk, Lord Hand. As you well know. Should we cut the tongue out of each man who voices his displeasure or send them to the inquisitors, then I fear we shall have no men left to man the walls should Stannis grow brazen enough to attack King's Landing."

Picking up his glass, he spared Baelish a passing glance. Before last night he had arranged a plot to find out who was whispering in Joffrey's ear by telling tales about betrothing Myrcella to various houses to gain their loyalty. But he no longer needed to do so. He knew it was Baelish that was pouring poison in the King's ear. After all, the day before Joffrey was ranting and raving about Stannis's proclamation. Then after a single visit to one of Baelish's establishments, the king called for all the gold cloaks to attend him before launching what could be considered an attack on his own city. He just didn't know why the flesh peddler was doing this. And he also didn't know if Baelish had a direct hand in convincing Joffrey to start this ridiculous war with the North. Or if he was merely taking advantage of the current chaos and new King to elevate his position. Either way, he needed to be removed.

"We need not silence every tongue who speaks out regarding our king," Tyrion said calmly. "Only the loudest at first. While we do need men manning our walls, we need them to be leal men."

Even as he spoke Tyrion pointedly ignored Baelish. His father's orders were explicit. Find the one who was whispering in Joffrey's ear and silence them. And while he fully intended on silencing the Mockingbird, he was debating as to the 'when' and 'how'. The man was as slippery as a wet eel and, most importantly, had the confidence of his nephew the King. A sharp knife wielded by the right man in a dark alley could do the trick. But if it was so easy to eliminate members of the Small Council in such a fashion, then there would've long since been a steady rotation of council members in the Red Keep. So, he needed to take his time when he tried to erode the trust that'd been built between Joffrey and Baelish. And once said trust was gone, it would be easy enough to eliminate the bastard.

But eliminating Baelish could also mark a significant change in the war. A change that could lead to an end of the fighting. Which was something he was conflicted about. Currently his father was on the frontlines fighting against the North. If there was ever a chance for his father to die, without him even having to lift a finger, this was the time. If he silenced Baelish now, his father could exert his influence and potentially end the war. Which would put his father back into the safety of Casterly Rock, potentially with even more prestige than he already had. And he would have lost his best chance of ridding himself of his father cleanly. No. As unfortunate as it was, he did not want the war to end just yet. Not with his father having retreated from the North.

Pushing her chair back, his sister rose to her feet. "See to it that the... Lord Hand's proclamation regarding the slandering of our king and consequences of doing so." The way she said 'Lord Hand' with such forceful politeness was almost amusing. Almost. "This session is now over. You all have your duties. I suggest you all see to them before you give the King reason to suspect your loyalty."

Everyone rose from their seats and bowed as the Queen Mother gathered herself and swept gracefully out of the Small Council chambers. Say what you would about his sister, and he had more than a few unflattering things to say about her, but she was a Queen. Too bad said Queen was only a false face that was hiding the vindictive, jealous, and cruel creature underneath.

Watching the other members of the Small Council quickly make their departure, Tyrion soon found himself alone with only his wine for company. 'I need to find men,' he thought, mulling over the predicament he found himself in. 'Despite father's threat, Cersei is still the Queen. Albeit the Queen-mother. Both the men of House Lannister and the gold cloaks will follow her words before my own. Sellswords will be my only choice. A risky proposition as my loving sister could easily turn them with coin or her royal cunt. But unfortunately, it is a risk I am going to have to take. Now I just need to find a few men who are not already in Littlefinger's or my sister's purse.'

Standing at the front of the great hall within the Gatehouse Tower of Moat Cailin, Jon Stark, or rather Jaehaerys Stark now he supposed, fought to keep his composure as dozens of Lords of the North and the few Lords of Dorne made their way into the hall before taking a spot around the large table that'd been positioned in the middle of the room. It was all he could do to keep himself from shaking as his nerves constantly threatened to get the better of him. The only thing keeping him steady was Arianne's soothing presence by his side. Gods, despite being in the same position as he, she was completely calm. Though, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. She'd been raised since birth with the expectation that one day she would be the next Princess of Dorne.

Glancing around the table, he quickly met his brother Robb's eyes. The look he gave him was one of sympathy. He knew just how uncomfortable Jon was being the center of attention. And now, thanks to Robb, he would forever be the focus of whatever room he was in. Even Theon was looking at him with a degree of sympathy, though he could see the more than slight mocking light in his eyes that was all but yelling 'better you than me'. The various Lords and Ladies of the North, along with Tormund who was representing the Free Folk sellswords Lord Nox had brought south with him, were all gathered and staring at him. And lastly, sitting directly across from him, was his Master, Lord Nox.

"Lord Nox," Jon began, working to keep his voice steady as he leaned over the large map of Westeros that was spread out from end to end across the table. "What movements have the Lannisters made?"

Lord Nox had, by unspoken agreement across all the lords, become Jon's Hand and Master of Whispers in all but name. Picking up two figures of lions, Lord Nox placed one at the twins and the second eastwards on the King's Road, effectively blocking off both routes south. "As predicted, having failed to take Moat Cailin, Tywin Lannister has moved his forces south and reinforced an easily defendable position along the King's Road. However, only half their army is currently with Lord Tywin. The other half is with Ser Jamie Lannister, who is currently holding position at the Twins. Each force has maybe twenty-five thousand men."

"So, we outnumber both men," Tormund stated, nodding down at the map. "Go after the one sittin on his arse out in the open."

"It's not that simple," Jon sighed, pressing his hands to the table's surface and leaning over it. "Tywin is baiting us. We outnumber each army, aye. But if we commit our full force against either position, then the other will move to reinforce and we will be pincered between two armies that nearly match our own."

"Then we send a few thousand to delay the Kingslayer from leaving the Twins," Lord Umber growled, his eyes staring hard at the map.

Jon didn't respond immediately as he thought on it. "No. A few thousand, even if they were completely comprised of light horse, would not be able to stand against either army."

"Bah, this is war bo – yer grace." The Greatjon added. "Sometimes ya need to lose battle to win the war."

Jon knew that. He knew that he would be sending men to their deaths the moment he agreed to have a crown put on his head. But there was a difference between acceptable loss of life and throwing the lives of their men away. "Cousin," Jon called out to Robb, the word foreign and distasteful. "When Tywin attacked the Moat, was his forces composed of men of the Westerlands?"

Robb hesitated as he stared down at the map. "There were a few banners I recognized. But all the ones I did recognize were from Houses hailing from the Crownlands. And those owing their allegiance to the Faith of the Seven. The only Westerland banner I recognized was the lion of House Lannister."

"Tywin brought only those he deemed expendable, while leaving his own men under the command of his son," Lord Nox stated clearly. "Even with more numbers coming from the Twins, most of Tywin's forces will be conscripts or those of lesser Houses or those of the Faith. Not his elite fighters. Those few are bottlenecked at the Twins."

"Then it's an obvious choice," the Greatjon urged. "We ride south along the King's Road and decimate the Great Tywin Lannister. Without the Old Lion, the south will fall to pieces."

"And the moment we turn our backs on the Kingslayer, the golden fucker will try and fuck us in the ass just as he did with the Mad King," Maege Mormont argued back. "Lord Stark is kin to the Tullys. Sure, the dumb fucks have thrown their lot in with this horseshit, but as the late Lady Stark always said, 'family, duty, honor'. Perhaps, if heading to the Twins, Lord Robb can turn the Riverlanders to our side and overwhelm the Kingslayer. With him as a hostage, Tywin Lannister will be throwing Lady Nox and the Stark younglings back to us to get him back."

Both ideas had merit. Attack and obliterate Tywin, and the south would lose their Commander for this Exalted March. And even if they failed to capture Tywin, destroying nearly half of their current standing army would be a boon to their cause. Yet if they took the Twins, then they would have inroads into the Riverlands. And as Lady Mormont rightly pointed out, despite House Tully siding with the Iron Throne, Robb was still their kin. Perhaps if they were forced to come face to face, they could be turned. Which would add thousands to their ranks. And if they managed to take the Kingslayer, then they would be able to ransom the man back should Lady Nox or either of his sisters get captured in the south.

"Alone, each option has its benefits and risks. So, we will mitigate the risks…and go for both." Jon said, calmly but with authority.

The reaction to his decision was…mixed, to say the least. Some, like the Greatjon, smiled widely at the boldness. But others were uncertain.

"Forgive me, your grace," Ser Wyndel said, "But splitting our forces will weaken us significantly. The Twins are formidable. And Lord Tywin's prowess on the battlefield is not something to be underestimated. Anything less than our full force will be required to counter him."

"Unless the one leading the force against Tywin has more experience in what would be considered unconventional tactics," Jon stressed, placing his hands against the table's surface and staring across the table. "Lord Nox, no man in Westeros has the experience you do. And it is well known that you are perhaps the one man to give the Old Lion even a moment's pause. I'm giving you command of your choice of fifteen thousand of our men to lead south against Tywin Lannister. Meanwhile, I will lead the remainder of our forces to the Twins. Lord Robb will accompany me. We will use his familiar relations with the Tullys to force dissention amongst the ranks stationed at the Twins and take the bridge. From there, we will be able to push into the Riverlands on two fronts."

"A bold plan, your grace," Prince Oberyn commented with a smile on his face.

"We are fighting for our lives, for our children's lives, Prince Oberyn. We cannot afford to be anything but bold in the days to come." Jon replied evenly.

Oberyn shrugged, the grin still on his face. "I'm not saying that I disapproved, your grace. At times, bold actions are needed. Though I do have one request. I wish for my and my men to march with Lord Nox. My daughters will accompany our future queen. But I cannot let this chance to strike directly against Tywin Lannister go."

Jon knew that sending Oberyn against Tywin Lannister directly was a cause for disaster. But he trusted that his Master would be able to keep the infamous Red Viper well in hand. "Agreed. Prince Oberyn, you and your men will accompany Lord Nox to confront Lord Tywin on the King's Road. My future Queen will stay with me along with an accompaniment of guards of her choosing. Lord Nox, choose your fifteen thousand that shall accompany you south. You depart at first light. May the Force, the old gods, and the gods of Rhoynar be with us. Dismissed."

The Lords immediately departed, leaving Jon alone in the great hall with Arianne and Ygritte. Feeling a light touch on his back, he turned and saw Arianne smiling lightly at him. "You are doing well, Jon. You were born for this."

"She be right, Jon," Ygritte added, nudging him on the shoulder with her own. "Yer a chief amongst chiefs, Jon. We know it. They know it. Now you just need ta know it."

"Thank you, both of you," Jon breathed, looking down at the map laid out before him. "Though words are wind. The true test will begin the moment the first man draws blood."

Walking down the length of the once famed 'Plaza of Punishment', Dany watched with satisfaction as the last of the crosses were torn down and destroyed by a combination of citizens and Unsullied. Hearing a low growling purr, Dany reached out her hand blindly to her side and gently stroked the scales atop Droga's head. Her dragon tilted their head into her hand, the low purring getting even louder as her hand made slow circles around her serpentine head.

Turning away from the destruction, Dany walked with her head held high back through the gates of the city and towards the large pyramid that she had taken for her own use. As she walked, the slaves of the city all dropped to their knees, smiling widely at her and calling out her praises. While those who were 'free citizens' of Astapor bowed their head respectfully, their eyes trained not on her, but on Droga who walked calmly by her side. The dragon's mere presence providing her far better protection than even the dozen of Unsullied who insisted on following her at all times to guard her.

'Though if I could truly have my way, there would be no more slaves in this city,' she cursed inwardly, wanting nothing more than to tear the collar off a nearby kneeling slave who was smiling up at her with hope. 'But my talks with Jon and Master Nox have opened my eyes to the world. I could break every chain I see and remove every collar off every slave. But the moment I leave here, those chains will be reforged and the collars replaced. No, I need to move slowly and wisely. And I can't forget… It was my very ancestors, the Valyrian Empire and its dynasties, that truly spread the use of slavery throughout Essos.'

Entering her new pyramid, she was unsurprised to be greeted by the sight of over a dozen 'Good Masters'. Or at least those that managed to survive her initial purging of the city and their families. The women and children were all cowering behind their husbands and fathers. Who were mostly trying, and failing, to give off something of an imposing aura as they tried to reclaim some manner of control of their newfound situation.

Walking past them, she ascended the small dais that'd been erected for her use. At the top, flanking the single gilded chair, stood Missendai. Her newly-made handmaiden standing tall and proud as Dany took her seat. "Her Grace, Queen Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons, the Reformer, will now here your claims." Missendai called out loudly and clearly, motioning for the first of the Good Masters to approach.

One of the Good Master's slowly approached. The man had a wife who was trying, and failing, to keep her composure and two small children that were hiding behind her skirts. "Your…Grace." The words were clearly forced out of the Good Master as he lowered his head in reverence. "I am Master Karzan. I oversee the farmlands outside of Astapor."

"Yes, I am glad to see that you answered my summons promptly," Dany responded calmly. "As you have no doubt been made aware, I have made several changes regarding the structuring of slavery for all those who call Astapor their home. But I have been informed that you are…slower to enact these reforms."

The man's eyes twitched, anger swelling within him. "You demand that one of four who work the fields are to be freemen. However, I cannot find the labor to hire such number—"

"You need not search hard," Dany countered. "You will select one in four amongst those you have enslaved and see them freed and given a proper wage as befitting of those who work the fields. Should they leave after being paid, then you will need to free more and their wages shall go to them. And in ten years' time, I expect your ratio to be one of two within your employment to be freemen or women."

Karzan gritted his teeth. "Such a move would force me to sell food for more. It would destroy the market."

Leaning back, Dany regarded the man coldly. "I've heard it said that you boast a solid gold chamber pot in your manse. As well as several diamond-encrusted serving utensils. How much coin did those cost? No doubt the chamber pot alone if sold or melted down would provide enough coin to free all those who work your fields and cover their wages for several years, no? I am sure that you will find a way to cover the cost of these wages without having to resort to raising your prices in the market." Signaling with her hand, a servant approached her and offered her a glass of chilled water on a platter. Taking the offered cup, she took a long drink, savoring the cool water. "I expect to see a draft of your plans on who you will free and what sacrifices you will make to pay their wages before you leave. And until such time as you uphold this plan, your family will remain here at my court as my guests."

The man took a single step forward to protest, but the Unsullied that stood guard before her all immediately leveled their spears towards him, making the man stop and his children to whimper and hide behind their mother. Dany hated this. She hated threatening the man's family. But she knew that change would not come easily. And if she had to resort to force to see her reformations enacted, then she would use force. Realizing that he had no choice, the former Good Master nodded his consent before making his way towards the back of the hall, his children clutching at him and his wife with tears in her eyes as they walked.

The next dozen petitioners were much the same. Former slave masters who were trying to fight against her reforms in any way possible. Most attempting to use the argument that they would have to increase the cost of their goods or services should they be forced to pay for their workers instead of just using slavery. But in each instance Dany was able to point out an aspect that they could cut on or adjust to increasing cost. After four or five such instances, the good masters tried a different tactic. That she was destroying their culture, their way of life that had been in place since the height of the Valyrian Empire.

To this, Dany relied on something that Master Nox had told her during one of her few personal lessons with the man. If a people did not evolve and change, then they would stagnate and die. How many slaves were killed during revolts? How many masters and their families? How many slaves died simply on a master's whims? All of which would lower the number of able-bodied workers or fighters. She was not destroying their culture or their way of life. Slavery, much to her chagrin, was still legal. The fighting pits were still legal. The Unsullied would still be trained here in Astapor. The only thing that was changing, for now, was that the slaves would be given hope. Hope for freedom, coin of their own, and no fear of death or brutal punishment for even the slightest of infringements. How long would it be until the slaves, who outnumber the freemen and women by nearly ten to one, finally grew tired of their enslavement and revolted in mass? She was able to take Astapor in a single afternoon with nothing more than a few words and a single fledgling dragon. How long would it have been before someone else figured out the same plan she'd used and decided that they would not stop untileveryGood Master and their family either laid dead or in chains? No. She was not destroying their culture. She was trying to evolve their way of life to prolong it.

It wasn't until the sun was nearly starting to set that the line of partitioners finally dwindled to the end. Deciding that she'd had more than enough, she'd called for an end to her court for the day. Yet before she retired, she had one last matter to attend to. Without rising from her makeshift throne, she turned her attention to a small gathering of Unsullied who'd been standing motionless near the side of the court without flinching. "I call forth my commanders of the Unsullied."

The eight men, each undistinguishable from the next thanks to their helms and armor, marched forward in unison, presenting themselves before her in two lines of four. "You eight were identified as the best of the Unsullied and suitable for command. I tasked you with naming a single commander to oversee you all. Have you done so?" Without a word, the two lines parted, leaving a lone Unsullied who stepped forward and presented himself to her. "Remove your helm. I would see your face and know you."

The Unsullied immediately removed his helm and tucked it under his arm. The man was handsome. And young. Very young. Perhaps even of age with herself. Maybe a year or two older. It was honestly slightly unnerving. She'd been hoping for an experienced commander, but instead she found herself with a commander who perhaps had yet to set foot on the battlefield. 'Do not let his age skew your opinion, Dany,' she chided herself. 'After all, your nephew is of age with you and he has successfully led men into battle and taken down a dragon. And look at your own accomplishments. You lead a small Dothraki horde, now backed by the formidable Unsullied and you brought down the House of the Undying in Qarth.'

"What is your name?" she asked, deciding that she would put her trust into her new commander.

The Unsullied stood taller, his head back and his eyes meeting her own. "This one is known as Grey Worm, your grace."

Dany's mouth twisted at the name. She'd heard of the naming conventions that the 'Good Masters' gave those undergoing training to become Unsullied. Another step to remove any resemblance of humanity from the boys. "Do you have another name you would wish to be called?"

"This one had another name when he was sold to the Good Masters to become Unsullied. It was an unlucky name." Grey Worm explained. "Grey Worm is the name this one carried when the Mother of Dragons, the Reformer, came and freed the Unsullied. It is a lucky name. And one this one carries proudly in service to her grace."

As distasteful as the name was, she could understand his reasoning for wanting to keep it. "Have you bloodied yourself on the battlefield, Grey Worm? I trust in your skill and training. But I need to know that the Commander of my armies has already fought."

Grey Worm's face didn't flinch. "I have fought and killed before your grace took over Astapor. Those of us who showed particular talent to the Masters during our training were chosen to become Commanders. I have fought on four battlefields before being set free by the Reformer. And I will fight any enemy you name."

"Good," Dany nodded. "My first task is for you to choose two amongst your Commanders who are the most experienced in matters of training. They will remain here in Astapor to work with any remaining Good Masters to begin training the next group of Unsullied. However, there will be changes. The previous Good Masters boasted that only one and three survive the training. I would see the training changed so that all who are chosen to become the Unsullied survive. I want it also known that any who are chosen to join the ranks of the Unsullied will have proper wages once they are ready to begin. After a service term of ten years after their training, they will be considered freemen and will be given proper compensation and allowed to leave the ranks unless they choose to stay. And finally, the final test of killing a child and gelding will be removed. My future dominion will be built upon life. Not death and destruction."

Grey Worm tapped his spear on the ground four times, prompting two of the other Unsullied commanders to step out from the line and fall in step behind Grey Worm. "These two are Brown Piss and Yellow Rat. They are well known to training methods and will follow our Reformer's commands."

Again, Dany wanted to curse and demand that the Unsullied choose names. But she would not. The first thing the Good Masters did when these boys began their training was to strip away their given names to remove what they once were. She would not do the same. If they wished to claim their own name, they would have the right to do so. Or if they choose to retain their given name, like Grey Worm, then she would also respect their choice. But it would be their choice to make. Something they had not had perhaps ever.

"Good," she nodded, "make it known that I want all to survive this training. There will be no mutilation of your bodies. Nor will there be any killing of dogs during the first year of your training nor any killing of children as the final test. I understand that this will mean that not all who join the ranks of the Unsullied will be of the same caliber as you fine men. But we will find a place for them. As archers, or runners or workers. They will find a place amongst your ranks. And let it be known that once a man has completed their training amongst the Unsullied and has served for a term of ten years, then they shall be granted a pre-determined amount of coin and even plots of lands for those of higher ranks. This is my will as the Queen of Astapor and the Reformer. Let it be known."

All the Unsullied clapped their hands to their chests and slammed the butt of their spears against the tiled floor. Glancing to her side, she gave Missendai a nod, prompting her newest handmaiden to step forth. "So ends this day of court. Her grace, Queen Daenerys Targaryen the Reformer shall hear more petitions on the morrow."

Rising from her seat, the Unsullied immediately formed up, creating a path for her to walk through the crowd and towards the more private areas of the pyramid. 'And now the work truly begins,' she thought as she silently left the audience hall and made towards the chambers she'd taken as her own. "Grey Worm," she called out as she walked, prompting the Commander of the Unsullied to silently rush forward and fall into step a pace to her left and a single pace behind. "Send for my bloodriders and Ser Jorah. I want them and you to report to my chambers after nightfall. We have a war to plan."

Standing before the imposing structure of the Twins, Jaehaerys Stark carefully analyzed every part of the massive bridge that he could see. The Twins would not go easy. The gatehouse was heavily fortified with archers and even heavy scorpions mounted atop the gate. And on the far side of the bridge camped out a fair distance from the other gatehouse was a sea of tents. The other half of the army of the Exalted March. The half that did not follow Tywin Lannister and was now under command of none other than the Kingslayer. Flying high above the gatehouse of the Twins were four banners. The bridge of House Frey. The lion of House Lannister. The Seven-Pointed Star of the faithful. And the one that made his cousin growl lowly, the trout of House Tully.

"Any chance that your uncle will see reason?" Jon asked his cousin, the two being the only ones standing before the impressive keep, unfazed by the numerous bowmen and several scorpions that were being pointed at them.

Robb sighed. "Had this been even a year ago, I would say 'yes'. But now… Mother always reminded us of House Tully's words. Family. Duty. Honor. And that family comes first because it is the most important. But apparently my grandfather and uncle have forgotten this."

Hearing a loud knock, followed by the rattling of chains, the two watched as the drawbridge slowly lowered before them. "You have the lead, brother," Jon said as the bridge slowly lowered. While his status was not hidden from those sworn to them, they saw no need to tip their hand to their enemies. Better they think Robb was the commander as their eyes would be focused on Robb and he would be dismissed.

"Of course, your grace," Robb nodded, standing up to his full height, his hands at his side and his lightsaber hilt in clear view.

Staying well clear of the stone landing notch for the draw bridge, Jon kept a pace behind his cousin as those on the opposite end of the drawbridge were revealed. Standing at the forefront, armor shining brightly was none other than the Kingslayer himself. His hand was resting on the pommel of his Valyrian Steel sword that had been a gift from Lord Nox after his expedition to Valyria. Standing next to the Kingslayer, looking more than slightly uncomfortable with the position he was finding himself in was Lord Edmure Tully. Next to them was a Frey, though which one Jon didn't know, nor did he care. All he knew was that it wasn't the old bastard himself. And the last man was a blotchy faced Septon who was grinning at them.

The moment the bridge touched down to the ground, Robb stepped forward, completely unconcerned of the dozens of arrows and several bolts aiming for their heads. "The young pup himself," the Kingslayer called out confidently as he matched Robb and Jon by stepping out onto the bridge. "And his ever-present shadow, the bastard of Winterfell. Though if you two wished to intimidate us, you would've been better served to bring your Master, Lord Nox. Or perhaps some of your bannermen that have bloodied themselves in a real battle."

"Kingslayer," Robb greeted the man, his eyes never even flickering towards his uncle, "I'm surprised to see you here as well, so far away from your father and your sister's skirts. Though I do suppose there are plenty of old men here for you to stab in the back."

The Kingslayer stopped in his tracks, his ever-present grin faltering only for a moment. "I see the pup has grown some fangs. Unfortunately for you, you're still just a pup barely off your mother's teat. And a pup stands no chance against a lion."

"Your father said much the same," Robb countered with a grin of his own. "And now he's running away from me with his tail tucked firmly between his legs."

"Enough," Lord Tully said, stepping forward, though Jon could feel the anxiety, the fear, rolling off the man in droves. "Nephew, enough of this nonsense. Your mother would be ashamed to see you now, fighting against your own kin."

"Kin?" Robb asked, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "As far as I see it,uncle. You are the one who has decided to take up arms against his own kin. And for what? What price did the lion of Casterly Rock offer you? How much coin did it take for you to turn against your family? To go against your duty? To betray your honor? What was the cost of the very words House Tully holds so dearly to?"

Despite being nearly twice as old, the heir of Riverrun seemed to shrink into himself with each word. "Your life, nephew. Your life was the price. The safety of your sisters and brother Bran. We did not betray our words, nephew. We are holding dear to them."

"At what benefit to House Tully, I wonder?" Jon asked, glaring at Edmure. "I noticed you specifically said Bran, not I. I assume that I was not part of whatever deal Lord Tully made. Or was my life part of the deal?"

Edmure didn't answer, though he didn't need to as the Septon spoke. "Your life, bastard?" the Septon said with a smile. "Your life would be forfeit. And in return Robb Stark and his foreign whore of a wife would be banished from Westeros. Your sisters would be married off to fine husbands. And Bran Stark would become the future Lord of Winterfell and be betrothed to Princess Myrcella. Far too generous of terms for a group of barbarian heathens."

Robb's anger was so great that dark wisps of Force energy started wafting from his person. "That?!That is what made you sell out your own kin, uncle?! My brother's death. Myself forced from my home with my wife! My mother always said that I would find allies in the Riverlands in her father and brother. But now I see she was wrong." Taking a step forward, Robb squared off against his uncle, making several grasped their hilts though Robb's hand strayed nowhere near his lightsaber. "Know this, Lord Edmure. You are not my uncle. And that man in Riverrun is not my grandfather. From here on out, you two, and any who would stand against me, are my enemies." Pausing, Robb turned his eyes towards the others. "You have three days to open these gates, throw down your arms, and surrender."

"And if we don't?" Jamie Lannister asked, his voice cocky.

Robb glared at the man. "Then, by dawn on the fourth day, you die."

Without another word, Robb turned and marched off the bridge with Jon close behind. It wasn't until they were out of earshot of the Twins that Jon spoke. "I'm sorry, brother."

Robb sighed. "I am as well." Turning back, Robb frowned as they watched the drawbridge being raised once more. "Think we can plan a strategy to take the keep in three days?"

Jon smiled. "Of course. Call for a council of the Lords. We have a lot of planning and not a lot of time."

By the time night had fallen across the land, Jon once again found himself standing side by side with Arianne and Ygritte while the senior most lords of the North stood before them with a large, crude drawing of the Twins laid out before them.

"Taking the Twins won't be easy," Greatjon Umber said, the elder man being the most experienced Lord in terms of warfare having found on the front lines for longer than most men had been alive. "And while the Freys are a right bunch of greedy cunts, the Twins is closed up tighter than a Septa's thighs. Breaking down the gatehouse will be no easy feat."

"But we have options that are…unconventional," Lord Glover commented, nodding towards Jon and Robb. "We have the Dragonwolf and the Young Wolf. Students of Lord Nox himself. And we all saw how easily the Sorcerer brought the walls of Pyke low."

Many of the men started cheering, but Jon could only share an uneasy look with his brother. While they were both powerful, they were nowhere near Master Nox's level of power. Not yet at least. "It is unwise to solely base our strategy around mine, or my brother's powers, Lord Glover," Jon replied. Not outright denying the suggestion. Another lesson from his father and Lord Nox. Do not show weakness. Either in front of your enemies or your allies. "What can we expect once we breach the gatehouse on this side of the river?"

"Blood, and lots of it," the Greatjon laughed. "The Twins themselves can house at best a thousand or two men at arms. And there are easily twice our number waiting on the far side of the river. The moment we breach one gatehouse, the other will be flooded with those southern cunts. We'll have to pay in blood for each step we take on that wretched bridge."

Just as Jon was about to interject with his own thoughts, the tent flap rustled as one of the guardsmen that'd been stationed just outside came in and immediately dropped to a knee and lowered his head. "Forgive me, yer grace. But a runner just came from the sentries. They say the Blackfish is seekin an audience with Lord Stark. And he has a few young men, boys and girls with him. They've surrendered what arms they have, and they been searched as well."

Sharing a quick look with Robb, his cousin gave him a curt nod and stepped up towards the table as the GreatJon swept the figures off the drawing of the Twins and rolled up the map. "Bring him and those with him. Lord Stark will meet with him first," Jon said with authority, taking a half step back to be alongside Arianne as the guardsman bowed his head before scrambling out of the tent.

Within moments, the tent flap was opened again and a clearly tired and travel worn Brynden Tully was shown into the tent. Behind him were six boys, the eldest of whom was of the same age as Robb and Jon, and one girl. Displayed proudly on the eldest boy's chest was a white weirwood tree on a field of black and red. The sigil of House Blackwood. "Lord Stark," Ser Brynden began, immediately sinking to a knee before Robb.

"Ser Brynden," Robb replied, his tone even and his eyes hard. "I cannot help but wonder why you are here? House Tully, the House of my mother, has turned against House Stark and the North. And yet here you are, kneeling to me. Why?"

The older man's face twisted as he scowled before spitting on the ground. "Because my brother is an idiot with ambitions equal to that of Tywin Lannister, but lacking in both brains, cunning, or loyalty to those who truly matter. And my nephew, despite his age, is still a greenboy who can't piss past his own boots without his father's help. I'm here to serve my family. As I know Cat would have wanted me to."

Robb nodded before turning his attention to the Blackwoods. "You are Lord Tytos Blackwood's eldest, Brynden. We met at King Robert's tourney last year briefly."

The eldest of the Blackwoods nodded, his face full of sadness. Yet an anger unlike any boiled underneath. "I am, Lord Stark. Though… Now I hold the mantle of Lord Blackwood. My siblings and I are all that is left of our House."

Jon felt the sorrow and anger roll off the now Lord Blackwood in earnest. Robb appeared taken aback but pressed on. "You have my condolences, Lord Blackwood."

Brynden held his composure, but the younger Blackwoods all appeared on the verge of tears. "The sentiment is appreciated, Lord Stark. But what would be more so would be accepting my pledge of loyalty to House Stark. We might not have much anymore. But I cannot, and will not, let this atrocity stand."

Robb shared a quick look with Jon. And Jon didn't have to hesitate before giving Robb a curt nod of agreement. "House Blackwood has long been known to be a supporter of the Old Gods and have sided with the North throughout history. But while I would readily accept your oaths, there is one far better for you to swear your allegiance to. The King that the North and Dorne have bent the knee to." At this Robb stepped aside and let Jon take his place. "I present to you his grace, King Jaehaerys Stark, the First of His Name. Son of Lyanna Stark by way of Rhaegar Targaryen. And his Queen-to-be, Arianne of House Martell."

To say that the new Lord Blackwood was taken aback would be an understatement. The man just simply stared at Robb, then at Jon, then back again. "Before you jump to the conclusion that I have been planning to take the throne for years, Lord Blackwood, I have not. The only reason I am even on this path now is that the Baratheons have proven that they did not deserve the Iron Throne. Had Joffrey been even somewhat competent or if he hadn't started this war, then I would have lived out the rest of my days happily as Consort to my future Queen. But Joffrey is nothing more than a cruel sadistic child. He cannot remain on the Iron Throne lest we have another Mad King ruling Westeros. And neither Stannis nor Renly cared enough to stand by my father, Lord Eddard Stark, or their own King brother when they needed them the most."

Recovering himself, Lord Brynden licked his lips, the wheels within his mind clearly turning. "I will swear to you, King Stark. And give you the allegiance of my House for as long as your blood sits upon the Iron Throne. I ask only two things in return. The return of my ancestral seat. And vengeance against the Brackens."

Jon tilted his head. "Done."

Brynden nodded before immediately sinking to a knee before him, his brothers and sister joining him. "I, Lord Brynden Blackwood of House Blackwood, do hereby swear to you King Jaehaerys Stark and Queen Arianne Martel the allegiance of myself and my House. From now till the end of my days."

"I, King Jaehaerys Stark, do hereby accept your oaths of fealty, Lord Blackwood. Rise now and take your place amongst those sworn to our cause. See to it that Lord Blackwood's brothers and sister are given comforts appropriate to their station."

The younger of the Blackwoods quickly filtered out of the tent leaving only Lord Blackwood and his eldest brother along with the Blackfish. "I do have a question for you," Jon said, motioning for GreatJon to lay the map back out, which he did so without question. "How did you get around the army on the far side of the Twins? And how did you cross the Green Fork?"

It was the Blackfish who spoke. The elder man not hesitating for a moment before he pointed to an area far upstream. "A day's hard ride from here upriver there is a bend in the Green Fork where the river narrows considerably. It's densely forested and the current is fast. But it can be crossed if you're careful. That is where we crossed."

"At nearly the cost of our sister and youngest brother's lives," the second Blackwood mumbled quietly, but not quietly enough to not be heard.

Jon ignored the comment as his mind raced. "Would it be possible to get men across the river and into the forest?"

The Blackfish rocked back on his heels and thought about his answer before giving it. "You can. No heavy armor though. And even then, you wouldn't be able to get enough men across the river before the scouts from the Twins or the army just beyond would find us and slaughter everyone who did manage to cross."

"We don't need an army. Just a hundred or so of our best." Jon commented, placing a finger on the gatehouse on the far side of the Twins. "The far gate is being left open, no doubt to keep a fresh line of men and supplies into the Twins. A small force, led by me, will capture the gatehouse and seal it. The moment we do, we destroy the gatehouse on our side of the river. The men within the Twins will be solely focused on the army attacking the gatehouse and because of that they won't realize that the other has been sealed. All those in the far gatehouse would need to do is hold a heavily fortified keep against the army outside until the army of the North can clear the Twins."

The Lords in the tent all went silent, none of them outright calling his plan outrageous, but none voicing their support for it either.

"With respect, your grace," Ser Wendel spoke up. "The plan is bold…but perhaps too bold. A hundred men could indeed hold a gatehouse the likes of the Twins against an army in the tens of thousands for a time. But they would have to know that their death would be likely. And to put yourself in such a risk—"

"Robb and I are the only two Force users in our army." Jon countered sternly. "One of us will need to remain with the army to aid in breaching this gatehouse. And the other will be needed to storm the far gatehouse."

"Then I will go, your grace." Robb said immediately. "You are our King and cannot be placing yourself into such unnecessary risks."

Quite a few men voiced their agreement, but Jon quieted them with a wave of his hand. "I am a true son of the North. I would ask nothing of any of you that I am unwilling to do myself. And while I do not doubt my brother's ability to lead the attack on the gatehouse, it must be me. Right now the southerners know nothing about me besides being the bastard son of Lord Stark. And they believe that Robb is the one who is leading our army. We will take advantage of this deception for as long as we can." Pausing, he met his brother's eyes. "Your uncle will be looking for you. As will the Kingslayer. If you suddenly go missing, they will know something is up. You need to remain here. And remain seen. Ghost will stay behind as well to give the illusion that I'm still with you. And with their eyes trained on you, I will take a hundred of our best and take the far gatehouse. When we are in position we will launch an attack in the middle of the night, taking the gatehouse and sealing it before anyone can even notice what's happened. The moment we have it sealed, Robb will crack open the gatehouse on this side of the river and bring an end to House Frey and all of the Lannisters and zealots still within. This is an order from your King. And I will hear no more words trying to dissuade me from this path."

The newly sworn Lord Blackwood stepped forward and went back down to a knee. "Your grace, with your blessing, I would accompany you on this task. None, save for Ser Brynden, know the Riverlands as well as I. And despite this land belonging to the accursed Freys, I still know it well. I will guard your back and give my life to see you safe, your grace."

"I accept," Jon nodded, motioning for Lord Blackwood to rise. "I want a hundred of our best gathered and ready to head out well before first light. And while I know many of you here are eager to volunteer, you cannot. Just as Lord Stark needs to be seen, so too do you all. Select your best and send them to me."

"Obara will be going with you." Arianne said quickly, shooting him a look that said that while she understood why he had to go, she was less than pleased with him. "I trust none more than her to protect you and bring you back to me."

"Don't worry yer pretty little arse off, Queenie," Ygritte smirked, nudging her lover. "I'll make sure our kneeler King gets back to yer sheets."

The tension within the tent broke slightly as many began to laugh while Jon colored. Despite being on the march to war, or perhaps because of it, both Arianne and Ygritte had been insatiable. And they were not shy about letting everyone know about the pleasure he brought to them both.

"Your grace," Lady Maege Mormont spoke up as the chuckling died down. "Forgive my asking, but how are we to breach the gatehouse in a single night? Let alone know when you have taken the gatehouse?"

"That is why Ghost is staying behind." Jon replied, sharing a knowing look with Robb. "When the time is right, Ghost will let Robb know. Until then, everyone here must be ready to launch a night attack at a moment's notice. And as for how we will bring down the gatehouse, while it is true that neither Robb nor I could replicate the feat Lord Nox performed when he tore down the walls of the Pyke, we do have something that can. Black powder. Enough barrels of black powder will be enough to create a breach in any wall. And once we have a way in, the Twins will fall against Northern steel."

Sitting in the saddle of his horse, Nox examined the line of defenders and their hastily arranged fortifications. Tywin Lannister had yet again proved his worth. He had not been idle during his retreat. He had arranged his camp upon a hill that had two complete rows of hastily dug trenches complete with large stakes embedded at an angle and sharpened to a point. Scattered throughout the barricade were several openings that would allow Tywin's men to pass through but would also serve as choke points while defending. He couldn't see any heavy horse upon the hill, but a quick passive scan of the surrounding area and he could easily find Tywin's cavalry trying to hide their number in a nearby forest. A perfect location to flank them should they try and assault the hill.

"Bah, you foockin kneelers love yer trenches and walls," Tormund spat, the large man still uneasy upon the horse he was riding.

"Fortifications have their place Tormund," Lady Val answered him. The Lady of the Dreadfort looking the perfect mix between a refined lady and warrior in her armor with a spear across her back and a sword at her waist.

"Ha! You becomin more and more of a fancy southern lady with each passin day, Val," Tormund laughed. "I barely even recognize ya. Maybe I'll be taken my chances with stealin ya after we're done guttin these kneeler pissants."

"A Lady of the North that will not hesitate to castrate you the moment you even think of stealing me, Tormund," Val cut back icily.

"Enough," Alim sighed. While amusing at times, the goading by Tormund towards Val nevertheless was beginning to weigh on him. "It seems as though our southern invaders are sending outriders. And courtesy demands we go and meet them."

"Eh, you kneelers and your curt…ice… Ah, fuck, you know what I mean," Tormund grumbled. "Your enemies are right in front of you. Just fuckin kill em and be done with it."

"Consider this little talk one of the laws of gods then, Tormund," Nox countered as he carefully observed a small contingent of no less than a dozen men on horseback making their way carefully down the hill and towards them.

Tormund spat off to the side. "Not my gods, sorcerer. But I'll keep me blades in place if they do."

As the contingent of horses cleared the barricades, Nox motioned for his own standard rider to come forward. "Well, let's go and see what they have to say for themselves."

"Just us?" Val asked turning in her saddle to stare at the men behind them. "There be plenty of kneeler lords amongst our ranks."

"They are all second sons or nobles from lesser houses. Not to mention our friends from the South and our large friends that are still a day behind us, as planned, to avoid showing our hand too soon." Nox countered, giving Val a slight smirk. "In fact, Lady Val, besides the young Lord Asher, you are technically the highest-ranking Northern noble in our ranks."

Realization set in on the Lady of the North as she turned around in her saddle before sighing. "Fuck."

Tormund threw his head back and laughed. "Hahaha! Let's ride, most esteemed Lady Val!"

Smirking, Nox tapped his horse's flanks, urging the beast forward towards the oncoming envoy. With his sight now focused on the small group approaching them, Nox was slightly surprised to note that none other than Tywin Lannister himself had decided to ride out to treat with them. Though he supposed he shouldn't have been. Tywin was a man of action, much like himself. And this was not something that he would trust to anyone but himself. Crossing nearly half the distance between the two waiting armies, Nox pulled his horse to a stop waiting to be met halfway. As the group approached, Nox took careful note of their make. Tywin Lannister was riding at the forefront with a man he recognized as Tywin's brother Kevan riding alongside him. Just behind them was a pompous Septon who was wearing the most ridiculous armor he could imagine made of gold and other precious gemstones. Honestly, he understood the need to impress on the battlefield. But this armor would make even the most pompous of Sith lords sigh in exasperation. And riding behind the three were several other lower lords that Nox honestly couldn't give two shits about. Strangely enough, there was a man missing from Tywin's usual retinue: Gregor Clegane. In fact, he couldn't sense that monster's bloodlust anywhere in the vicinity. 'Perhaps he left his beast with his son,' Nox thought as Tywin slowed his horse. 'Or perhaps he's off raiding somewhere in the Riverlands. It matters not. All that matters is that he's not here. Which means that Oberyn will be more focused on his given task.'

"Lord Tywin," Nox greeted the Lord of the Westerlands as the two groups drew within a dozen paces of one another. "I must say, I was not expecting you of all people to be this…foolish. Though I do admit that family can force even the most even tempered of men to do idiotic things."

Tywin remained completely passive on the outside, but Nox could feel the rage within him. Not directed towards Nox. But rather towards his own children and grandchildren. "Lord Nox. I have come to—"

"Forgive the intrusion, Lord Lannister," the pompous Septon cut in, drawing a hard look from Tywin. "But this…beast is no longer a Lord. By the will of good King Joffrey the Blessed and with the endorsement of the High Septon as ordained by the Seven-Who-Are-One, the heretic witch Alim Nox has been stripped of his lordly title."

Nox tilted his head at the man. "Oh really? And tell me, which part of that am I supposed to give two shits about?"

The Septon blanched and stumbled, mumbling as he tried to formulate a response.

"Keep your teeth clenched and your lips sealed, Septon Marcus," Tywin growled, giving the man a glare that would send a lesser man running for cover. "Or I shall have your teeth removed and your lips sewn shut. Now, Lord Nox, I was not expecting to see you so soon on the field."

Nox smirked and shrugged. "Don't take it too personally, Lord Tywin. Your order to seal off the Wall and outlaw the Free Folk was a good move, and, against anyone else, it would have worked."

"Indeed," Tywin nodded before his attention flickered towards Val and Tormund.

"Ah, forgive me. I have not made proper introductions yet, have I?" Nox stated, motioning towards Val and Tormund. "This is Lady Val Norfolk of the Dreadfort. And this is Tormund Giantsbane of the Free Folk."

Tywin examined each in turn before turning his attention back to Nox. "My brother, Ser Kevan Lannister. Septon Marcus of King's Landing, second to the High Septon. Lord Martin Trant and Lord Renfred Rykker ride with me."

"Well then," Nox declared joyfully. "Now that we are all acquainted, let us begin this insult fest, shall we?"

"We have not ridden to trade barbs with the likes of you, witch," Lord Martin Trant spat.

"No," Nox replied, deadpanned. "You've come to try and avenge the death of your son. Though if you ask me, he more than got what he deserved after losing so pathetically to my Apprentice during the Trial by Combat all those years ago. My only regret is that the late King Robert didn't let me skin him alive and hang his rotting corpse up for all to see."

Martin went for his sword, but Renfred was there to make sure he didn't draw it. "Speaking of your 'Apprentice', I do not see him on the field," Lord Tywin stated, his eyes fixed on Nox. "There are wolf banners. But no sign of either the Young Wolf or the White Wolf. And you come with perhaps less than half what I expected the North to field. You sent the boys to take the Twins."

"Of course," Nox nodded. "While honestly pathetic beyond anything other than swordplay, your son, backed by an army, along with the strength of the Twins, will prove an adequate challenge for my Apprentices. Though I do hope your son manages to exceed my expectations and provide at least some form of a challenge for the two."

Tywin held his head high. "My son will hold the Twins. Regardless of what tactics you and Lord Stark have taught the boys. But this war is pointless. Even you know that. The entirety of Westeros stands against you and the North. Yet despite the odds you face, you are being given a chance. You, your wife, Lord Eddard Stark, Lord Robb Stark and Lady Talisa Stark will be granted safe passage to Essos. Bran Stark will inherit Lordship of Winterfell, foreswearing his usage of magic and reaffirming House Starks commitment to House Baratheon and the Iron Throne. And upon doing so, he will be betrothed to Princess Myrcella Baratheon. Lady Sansa Stark's betrothal to Lord Willias Tyrell will be upheld. And Lady Arya Stark will become a ward of House Lannister until such time as a suitable match can be found for her. All those who hailed from north of the Wall will be given two moons turn to return to whence they came before a bounty will be placed on their heads."

Nox stared unseeingly at Tywin for several long moments before throwing his head back and laughing. Val and Tormund were not far behind him, throwing their own laughter at the ridiculous demands. "You are a smart man Lord Tywin," Nox continued to laugh, shaking his head. "You know that there is no way in any of the hells that I, the Starks, or any of the North would even think of conceding to these ridiculous demands. Especially when they come from the lips of an idiotic, bloodthirsty, and cruel boy who probably doesn't even know the true purpose of his dick yet. And we can also add bastard to the supposed King's title if there is any semblance of truth to the words of Stannis Baratheon. A bastard ofpureLannister blood, no less."

He could feel the anger, disgust, practically exploding from Tywin. "I thought you more of a man than one who falls prey to such baseless, disgusting rumors from one attempting to grab the throne unlawfully from his own nephew."

Nox shrugged. "In truth, I don't give a shit if Joffrey is a full Lannister or a son of Robert. The fact remains that he threatened both myself and those I care about. In doing so, his fate was sealed. And there is nothing that can be done from teaching that boy a very, very pointed lesson. The only thing that you men can do is decide if you are willing to die by getting in my way."

Tywin breathed in heavily before nodding. "I see further words would only be a waste. You have power. None here would ever question that. But your welcome in Westeros ended with Robert's passing. And if you will not take the opportunity that has been offered to you to leave this land in peace, then you will leave either in disgrace or in death."

"Perhaps, Lord Tywin," Nox replied, a surge of eagerness he'd not felt in some time rising within him. "I must say. That while I admit that I desire peace. I have been…excited about facing off against you. The one man in all of Westeros that I could consider my equal despite your lack of Force-sensitivity."

Tywin straightened, sitting taller in his saddle. And while he showed nothing on the outside, Nox could sense the pride within the man. "You will come to regret wanting to take the field against me, Lord Nox."

Smirking, Nox kept his sightless attention on Tywin. "I have regretted many things in my life. This shall not be one of them." Snapping his reigns, he urged his horse around. "Sleep well tonight gentlemen. If you can. And do try to give me a proper challenge on the morrow. It has been far too long since I had a chance to truly push myself."

With Tormund and Val following behind him, the three made their way back to the Northern encampment while Tywin turned his own retinue back towards their camp. "I can pick out a few dozen of my best and have them set those foockers on fire tonight," Tormund muttered, the big man looking over his shoulders at the camp.

"It would be a waste," Nox replied. "Their sentries will be on high alert tonight for any type of attack. And our men are exhausted from the march. They will need a good night's rest before the battle tomorrow. Send a runner north to where Oberyn lies in wait. Tell him to proceed as we planned. Then, when nightfall comes, set up the larger tents near the frontlines. We will only have one chance to use who we've brought with any measure of surprise. And I do not want Tywin to know about them until it is far too late."

"So, we let their army rest as well?" Val asked.

"They are already well rested," Nox replied, "but Tywin will be too cautious to attack us tonight. And besides. Whoever said anything about letting them have a restful night's sleep?"

Val cocked her head at him. "You don't want them to rest… Yet we won't be trying to raid them at night?"

"No," Nox shook his head, a grin appearing on his lips. "I have something far better in mind. It's time to show Tywin and these southerners what it truly means to go to war against a fully trained Sith Lord."

Standing atop the gatehouse overlooking the Northern army, Jamie frowned in contemplation as he carefully examined the Northerners waiting just outside. Three days. It'd been three days since the failed parley with Robb Stark. And not once since that time had the Northerners attempted to siege the Twins. That wasn't to say that the Northerners were merely sitting idly by. Lumber had been collected and brought to the forefront of their lines to build catapults or possibly even a tower. And several long ladders were laid out and being worked on between the barely constructed catapults. Clearly the Northerners were preparing for a siege. But they had yet to even test their defenses.

"Perhaps the pups were all bark and no bite," Addam Marbrand stated as the two men stood side by side.

"No," Jamie replied, shaking his head. "The pups are planning something. Three days without even the slightest effort to test our defenses mean that they have something planned and are preparing for it. No doubt an attack to take the Twins in one fell swoop."

Addam frowned in thought. "Could they be preparing to split the walls of the Twins just as Nox did on Pyke?"

"No," Jamie immediately put that idea to rest. "If they had the ability to do so, they would have already done it. They're not waiting for reinforcements. And each day they wait is another day we have to find the Stark girls and Lady Nox. Time is not in their favor. They have a plan and are working on implementing it. I want our numbers doubled within the Twins by nightfall."

"The Freys won't like that. Old Walder complains loudly whenever you are near him that we are eating through his stores." Addam reminded him.

"Then I will remind Walder that we are the only thing that is keeping his House from going extinct." Jamie bit out, his patience towards the decrepit bastard already on dangerously thin ice. "I want our numbers doubled. And if any man is caught sleeping during their watch they are to be immediately flogged. The fish and I will remain here just in case the pups try anything. I want you to return to our main camp and get our men ready for an attack at a moment's notice. If the pups do pull something and manage to breach the gatehouse, we'll need all our men to keep them on this side of the crossing."

Ser Addam nodded and saluted him. "By your leave, Ser Jamie," he said before leaving Jamie on the battlements to see his orders would be carried out.

'What are you two boys playing at?' he wondered, staring intently at the large two wolves that were standing vigil outside of a large tent guarded by several men in Stark livery.

Staying low in the brush within the woods near the Twins, Jon warily observed the twin keep on this side of the Green Fork. It was easy enough to lay out the plan for taking the gatehouse and keep on the far side of the Twins. But, now that he was about to do it, doubt began gnawing at the edges of his mind. It wasn't so much the keep, which had its drawbridge lowered over the moat with only two guards standing watch. But rather the nearly twenty-thousand men at arms that were manning the camp less a three hundred paces away from the crossing. Despite being the hour of the wolf, the darkest part of the night, there were dozens of guards patrolling the camp.

Hearing a slight rustling behind him, Jon didn't have to turn to know that the Blackfish and Ygritte were kneeling next to him in the underbrush. "We took too long in crossing the Green Fork," the Blackfish muttered. "The Kingslayer might not be honorable, but he's not a fool. He knows we're planning something."

"Aye," Jon agreed. "Though we're committed to this course now."

Ygritte leaned forward, her eyes carefully scanning over every inch of the keep. While she might have been raised amongst the Free Folk, she had an eye for infiltration better than any he had ever met. "Too much open space," she mumbled, her brow furrowed. "We won't get half to dat damn gate before those mannin the walls will spot us and yell to the others in the camp."

"Then we move in a few at a time," Jon replied. "A small group of us will take the gatehouse and kill the men standing watch. Then the rest will make their way in groups of five at a time."

The Blackfish scoffed. "An entire gatehouse full of men against what? A dozen men at most? You'll be walking those men to their deaths."

Smirking, Jon slinked back from the brush towards where the rest of his men were hiding. "You forget, Ser Brynden. Robb and I are not normal men. And those men in the gatehouse won't attack those that they believe are there to relieve them."

Brynden looked at him dubiously, but he didn't question him further. Turning his head towards Ygritte, Jon took a breath before speaking. "You'll need to wait here until we have taken the tower."

Ygritte's brow furrowed angrily as she opened her mouth to argue, only to close it just as quickly. "It's because these southern kneelers don't have women who fight. And da only women in da camp would be whores."

"Not all," Jon countered. "But it would be a tell for a woman in full armor to approach a gatehouse here in the south. And while I know you could kill perhaps half the men out there on your own, I'm not about to risk you heading into a fight without your armor."

Nodding, Ygritte stepped forward and kissed him, hard. "Stay safe. Or I'll kill ya meself."

Breaking away from her, Jon laid out his plan to the men that'd followed him and asked for volunteers for the first group that would take the tower. To his surprise, all the men volunteered, including Ser Brynden. "I want to take the measure of the man my nephew has sworn his sword too," was all the Blackfish offered in explanation.

Lord Brynden Blackwood also volunteered and wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. So, with the Blackfish and Lord Blackwood flanking him, Jon chose thirteen more men amongst his men before marching out of the underbrush and heading towards the gatehouse. "No sudden moves," Jon hissed as the small group cleared the forest and made a slight trek towards the camp before turning and heading towards the gatehouse before any sentries could see them. "And keep your hands off your weapons. We're merely reinforcements for the Twins. Ser Brynden and Lord Brynden, keep your cowls up. Last thing we need is some guard to recognize either of you."

Keeping himself as calm as possible, Jon walked across the lowered bridge and towards the open gates of the Twins. Just as they neared the stone archway, two guards stepped forward, sleep heavy in their eyes. "Who the fuck are you lot? It's too soon for Ser Addam to have sent reinforcements."

Reaching out with the Force, Jon made a small wave, pressing the Force onto the man's mind. This wasn't a technique that he cared for, as he felt it went against a man's gods given free will. But he would not deny its usefulness at times. "Ser Addam sent us on orders of Ser Jamie. We're to reinforce your men just in case those heretic bastards try anything."

The two guards' eyes went blank for a moment before they both nodded. "You're here to reinforce us on Ser Addam and Ser Jamie's orders. Good. My men have been standing watch for fucking hours and half are falling asleep at their fucking post. Find a spot and grab a mug of ale."

Waving his hand again, Jon pressed on their minds once more. "You two look exhausted. Take a rest and two of my men will take your place. No one will know."

Again, the guard's eyes went blank for a moment before both yawned. "We're fucking exhausted. Two of your men will take our place here and we'll…be inspecting the barracks."

"Of course," Jon smiled as the two men quickly turned and made their way inside the nearest door. Turning his head back, Jon selected two of his men at random. "You two stay here. Tap your spears five times against the bridge if anyone other than our men come near."

The two men nodded and took up their positions. Walking into the gatehouse, Jon steeled himself for what they were about to do. Looking back at the men with him, he pulled out a hand long dagger. "As quickly and quietly as possible. No witnesses."

None of the men questioned his decision, their faces set in a hard line as they all understood what needed to be done. Only Lord Brynden looked pleased at this prospect as the young Lord Blackwood gripped his dagger tightly before heading off towards what Jon assumed to be the barracks within the gatehouse. Turning around, Jon made his way towards a staircase and began ascending towards the battlements with Ser Brynden and two others keeping pace with him. Reaching the top, Jon found four men wearing House Frey livery sharing a jug of some drink while warming their hands at the burning brazier.

"Ser Addam sendin more of you lot to join us, eh?" one of the men asked.

"Yes," Jon replied, slowly walking towards the four men with his dagger concealed behind his back. "How many of you are up here?"

Another man took a long pull from his cup before holding it out towards the man with the jug looking for more. "Just us four. The rest of us are on the far side of the bridge waiting for those heretic assholes to finally work up the stones to try and attack us."

"Good," Jon said, getting within arm's reach of the first man.

Quick as a flash, Jon buried his dagger up to the hilt in the man's throat. Then he quickly pulled it out to slash at the throat of the next closest man, his warm blood sprayed out, coating his hand and arm in blood. Knowing the other two men were too far to reach, Jon dropped the dagger and reached out with the Force as he pointed one hand at each man. Both men, their mouths open to yell, gasped and began clawing at their throats as Jon squeezed his fists closed, using the Force to choke the air from each man. But before either man could end through his actions, Ser Brynden and one of the other men that'd followed him dashed forward, their daggers gleaming in the fire light as each man buried their daggers into the men's throats. Silencing their struggles and killing each man almost instantly.

Letting go of the Force, Jon watched dispassionately as the two fresh corpses fell to the ground like puppets that'd had their strings cut. "Hide the bodies," he ordered. "Then take up their positions. Ser Brynden and I will search for any remaining Frey men at arms."

The two men nodded and began moving the bodies back behind a few crates that were in the shadows, easily getting them out of sight. Nodding towards Ser Brynden, the two men continued onwards, looking for any more men in the gatehouse.

"Not the first man you killed?"

"No," Jon answered quietly.

"But the first you've killed outside of battle."

At this, Jon swallowed. "Aye."

Ser Brynden raised his finger to his lips and motioned him back. Ducking back into the shadows, Jon saw a light on the wall coming towards them. Reaching out with the Force, Jon could sense only one man coming towards them. Keeping his back pressed against the wall in the shadows, Jon waited until the torch was right in front of them, revealing a simple serving man. Even though it turned his stomach, Jon acted immediately, His hand lashing out and cupping the man's mouth to prevent him from yelling while he buried his dagger into the man's heart. Killing him as quickly and painlessly as he could.

"Do you enjoy it?" Ser Brynden asked as Jon pulled the dead serving man into the shadows.

"No," Jon replied immediately and truthfully. "But it has to be done."

"Good." Ser Brynden responded. And while he couldn't tell, Jon could've sworn that he saw something akin to respect in the older man's eyes.

In no time at all, the entire gatehouse had been cleared of all Frey men. Making his way back to the battlement overlooking the gate and drawbridge, Jon met up with Lord Blackwood and the rest of his men. All of them were covered in blood. Though Lord Blackwood was far more covered than any other.

"The barracks are clear," Lord Blackwood said calmly and with a note of satisfaction. "Bastards all died in their sleep. Far better than these Frey bastards deserved."

Nodding, Jon stepped forward and faced towards the woods. Closing his eyes, he felt out his connection he held with Ygritte. While different than the Master-Apprentice bond he held with his Master, the bond he shared with Ygritte and Arianne was…calmer. Joyful. Erotic. And the bond had grown even stronger ever since the three had reunited at Moat Cailin. Reaching out through his bond, he touched briefly against Ygritte's mind, knowing that it would get her attention more than anything.

"The rest are on their way," Jon said, opening his eyes in time to see a group ten to twenty men clear the trees with Ygritte at the lead. "Prepare to lower the gate and raise the bridge. The moment we do, I will signal Robb to begin his attack."

"And how are you going to signal my nephew?" Ser Brynden asked curiously.

Jon smirked as he reached through the Force once more, feeling out the bond he held with Ghost. "That is one of the reasons why I left Ghost at the camp."

Standing at the edge of the darkened Northern encampment, Robb Stark fought against the urge to nervously tap his foot on the ground. For the past two nights, he'd had most of his men rest during the day, leaving only a token force to both guard their encampment and keep up the ruse that they were preparing for a siege. Timing was critical if this plan his brother and King had decided upon were to have any chance of success. If Robb launched his attack before Jon managed to secure the far gatehouse and cut off reinforcements, then not only would Jon's men be slaughtered, but the Twins would turn into a bloodbath as the two armies fought for control of the crossing on the bridge itself. However, each moment they didn't act after Jon managed to take the far gatehouse was a moment more their plan risked being discovered.

Beside him, Ghost and Grey Wind both sat obediently, their yellow and red eyes trained on the Twins while around them the men of the North moved through the darkness preparing themselves for the battle to come.

"Any sign?" the GreatJon asked, coming up beside him.

"Not yet," Robb replied worriedly. They'd prepared the previous night for an attack, yet the signal did not come. "Are the men ready? And the wagon?"

"Aye, everything is set for us to slaughter these southern fucks," the GreatJon spat, glaring hatefully at the Twins. "Just as we were last night."

Fighting to keep his nerves from showing, Robb kept his eyes on his target. "My brother, our King, will succeed. Last night we were prepared too soon. I'm sure that—"

Beside him, Ghost started, which immediately drew Grey Wind's attention as Ghost gave out an excited yelp and nudged Robb's shoulder with his massive head. Two actions which were unusual for the normally completely silent and calm direwolf. Smiling, Robb turned to the GreatJon. "Rouse the men and prepare the wagon. I'll bring down the bridge. The moment it's down, we ignite the arrows."

"Ah!" the GreatJon laughed, excitement and bloodlust rushing through him. "Bout damn time!"

Leaving the GreatJon to rouse the men, Robb focused his attention on the raised bridge before him. Closing his eyes, he reached out through the Force, feeling the firm and still warm wood of the bridge. Following into the cold metal chains that held the bridge in place. Up to the counterweights that served to raise and lower the bridge and the locking mechanism that held the bridge in place. The path was an easy one for him to follow, for each day he had done the exact same as he was now. The only difference now was that he was about to break the locking mechanism and the counterweights that were used to raise the bridge.

Concentrating hard, Robb clenched his fist tightly. He could feel the latch snap and the chain give way. Shouts of alarm from the Twins rang out as the drawbridge dropped freely, revealing the iron portcullis blocking their path forward. "Runners! Advance!" Robb shouted as dozens of men shouted and began pushing a heavy wagon, which could've been mistaken as a battering ram on wheels, towards the portcullis. "Archers! Light arrows!"

Torches came to life along the line of Northmen, revealing thousands of men at arms ready to give battle. Runners with torches went down the line of men, igniting hundreds of arrows as the large wagon closed the distance towards the Twins. On the battlements of the Twins, the men of House Frey and their reinforcements scrambled trying to set up their defenses. A few random arrows flew out from the Twins aiming at the men pushing the wagon. But thanks to the various shields Robb had ordered placed at the front, none of the arrows found purchase.

As the wagon passed over the drawbridge, the men that'd been pushing it let go, allowing the heavy wagon's momentum to take it crashing into the iron portcullis. As soon as they let go, the men immediately turned tail and ran backwards as fast as they could while trying to blindly dodge the arrows that were being fired at their retreating form.

The wagon, now without anyone pushing it, crashed hard into the gate and promptly broke, the axles giving away leaving nothing, but a pile of wood, shields, metal and dozens of barrels piled up against the portcullis. For a moment there was silence, followed swiftly by laughter from the Twins that was loud enough to reach even the Northern lines. Well, they wouldn't be laughing for long.

"Archers!" Robb shouted, holding up a hand as over a hundred lit arrows on bows were raised. "Loose!"

Over a hundred burning arrows streaked through the skies heading for the Twins. But none were aimed at the battlements or the men upon them, rather at the wreckage now piled up against the gate. A wreckage that had nearly every barrel of black powder that been in their possession. The arrows struck true, setting the wreckage ablaze. For a long moment, there was nothing as the fire slowly spread. Then the ground shook as an explosion loud enough to deafen everyone's ears rang out. The night was briefly lit up in a blinding display of fire. The force of the explosion was easily enough to knock some of the unprepared Northmen off their feet and caused the rest to duck for cover as the noise echoed loudly throughout the nearby darkened lands.

Fighting against the ringing in his ears, Robb got back to his feet and looked at the Twins. The iron portcullis was gone. As were the battlements that crossed over the top of the gate, a nearby watch tower, and all the men that'd been manning the walls. The entire land had gone silent. Only the sound of stones and metal hitting the ground and water breaking the silence of the night.

Grabbing his lightsaber, Robb brought the blade to life. The blue light illuminated him in the darkness as he held his blade high. "Men of the North! To the Twins!"