iii

The Frey force that had been loaned to House Erenford was not the main force that the Freys put in the field. Realizing that Lord Lannister was more than ruthless enough to take umbrage at them trying to get by without actually doing anything, Old Walder had ordered a force of two thousand men to move out from the Twins and reinforce House Haigh as they set up shop on the Kingsroad as it entered into the Neck. Far enough away from the Neck that they didn't have to worry about diseases from the various bugs of the marshes but close enough that they blocked any army coming out of the Neck along the Kingsroad from spreading out into a combat formation to match their own defensive line, which was being built like a half circle, the inner curve facing the road out of the Neck.

That was all they did. They didn't act against the crannogmen scouts they saw, the Frey men even publicly executed two men of House Haigh in clear view from the marshes. Black Walder had been put in charge of this group, and he had been ordered by his father to make a point of seeming to be reasonable to any watchers from the marshes. They were also, at the first sign of a whole army coming down the road from the north to withdraw to the Twins.

Other than that he was simply going to stay there. If a force came up Kingsroad to join them, all very well they were already starting to put in place defenses. These were ditches and earthen palisades for the most part, since the only nearby source of wood were the trees of the marshes, which were much more trouble than they were worth.

Despite this, it could be a good defensive position, or they could be meeting up with a force coming down from the north. His men didn't know, precisely the way the Freys wanted it. Old Walder wanted to play both sides, to see which side offered him the best deal, though admittedly it would take a lot to overcome Lord Lannister's offer, something solid and immediate.

OOOOOOO

Despite being hunters by profession, the men of house Reed also made excellent scouts especially on land so close to the Neck. While the Frey camp was a little too far away from the Neck for any scout to get close enough during the day, at night they didn't have that problem.

Listening to the reports Lord Reed laughed quietly. When Meera, newly returned from House Stark looked at him in puzzlement he laughed again, louder this time before speaking in his deep, scratchy voice. "The Freys aren't committing themselves. Every man in that force out there knows that they're only there as a show of force, to show the North that they could've made trouble if they wanted to, or to meet up with Lord Lannister, whichever comes first. They don't want to be pulled into full combat, but they don't realize that position is just as in danger as it is dangerous. Cowards all, and not an experienced man among them because that's the way Old Walder has always played it."

Meera nodded, shaking her head slightly at the duplicity of it. "They want to play both sides? Do you think that would work?"

"It might work for Lord Lannister. So long as the Freys seem to be following his orders he won't hammer them too badly, he probably won't be able to afford to at that point." Lord Reed shook his head. "If the Lannisters get up here first anyway. I doubt they are having an easy time of it though.

"But it won't work for Ranma. If the Freys don't change their tune when they hear what really went on in King's Landing he won't barter or bargain with them." Meera said in a tone that made her certainty plain.

" True enough. Still, the army will need to know what they might be running into. Meera, I'll be sending you in the morning to Moat Cailin to wait for the army. I'll send word to the other Neck Houses to gather up a fleet of our coracles, they might be needed."

Meera nodded, eager to see Ranma, Jon and Arya again.

Her father smiled, though inwardly wondered if she would be coming back to Greywater Watch anytime soon. House Reed did need to be represented at least a bit in the expedition being sent south after all. Meera was an excellent scout and hunter, as at home in a forest or on a plain as in a marsh. Only a fool would not see that and wish to add her to his army, and Ranma Stark was anything but a fool.

He shrugged inwardly, knowing that children often had to leave home to grow. He had no wish to see Meera hurt, but neither would he hold her back.

OOOOOOO

At the same time that the Freys and their allies were making trouble for house Reed, the army had arrived at Castle Cerwyn, covering the same distance in a day that had taken a day and a half for Robert's party to travel. It's amazing how not stopping every few hours to go hunting and actually pushing the pace does for said pace, Ranma thought.

This was one of many thoughts occupying Ranma's head as he tried desperately to ignore the whispering going on behind him between Alayaya and Daenerys. Myrcella too was there, the three girls of course sticking together. Merry was even sharing a horse with Daenerys, the two of them far less weight than a man in armor even though Daenerys wore lizard lion plate, left over from the scales of the beast Ranma had killed all those months ago. But from what he could see of Merry's red face seemed to indicate that she was not taking part in the conversation.

Oh, and now they've started to use hand gestures lovely, he thought, having caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. Indeed, Daenerys was twisting her fingers in the air for a moment as if demonstrating something, while Alayaya was shaking her head in return. Behind Ranma's silver-haired wife Merry was now as red as an apple, her face buried in her companion's hair. Oh look, now Dacey has fallen back to join them, even worse.

He and Smalljon, who was riding beside him just then, shared a glance before Smalljon spurred his horse slightly and Ranma nodded moving along beside him with ease. At this point, Ranma thought to himself as they raced on moving further down the column of the army, I'd rather face lady Jonelle rather than hear more of that conversation!

Several hours later Ranma was questioning that decision as he dodged a second plate thrown his way. "How dare you!" Jonelle shrieked, glaring at him. "No, my son is too young to go to war!"

"Now lady calm…" Ranma began then was forced to dodge again as Jonelle, showing a decent arm threw a plate like it was a Frisbee at where his head had previously been. It crashed against the wall behind him, and Ranma winced again while the copper of the plate made a ringing tone against the rock.

"I won't let you! I won't let you take my little boy to war!"

Outside the private dining Hall where this conversation was going on Lord Cerwyn turned to Jon. "So, lovely weather we're having lately."

Jon snorted, while inside the noise of a mother in full rage went on for several more minutes.

Rickard and Greatjon stood with them. Greatjon was laughing, one large hand muffling the sound for fear of attracting Jonelle's attention out here. Rickard however was looking rather askance, since it was certainly not normal for a Lord Paramount let along a King to have to calm down a noblewoman when taking her son to ward.

He didn't know how close Cerwyn and Stark had become of late, nor that Jonelle had a miscarriage before Cley, making him even dearer to her. Besides, Ranma saw the older woman as a friend, and if it helped her become accustomed to the idea of her son being away by venting at him, he was fine with that. Moreover, he didn't want his friends to see him as a lord first, just Ranma, and it was as a man taking her son away rather than her Lord Paramount that Ranma stood in front of Jonelle.

Soon Jonelle ran out of things to throw. Ranma breathed a sigh of relief as the last plate slammed into the wall behind him holding up his hands placatingly. "My lady please, I'm not going to let him fight in a battle or anything like that, I'm just taking him along as my ward. He'll help take care of the horses of the rest of the wolfsworn, help us take care of our tents, sometimes bring us food from the campfires, that kind of thing. You know regular young squire stuff, no pitched battles."

At least I hope so. Ranma thought but did not say aloud. There was always a chance that Cley would be forced to fight at some point in the future, but he would try to keep that from happening. But he wanted Cley along. House Cerwyn was the closest geographically to House Stark and they didn't have a representative among the wolfsworn at this point. They were the only powerful noble house that didn't since Hathan counted as coming from House Manderly.

Jonelle glared at him. Normally she had a soft spot for Ranma and Jon too. They were both good boys, and she could all too easily remember the days when Ranma began to stop by as his father's voice, always bringing such brightness and cheer to the castle. Now however, he had come not to bring cheer, but to take her little boy away.

"Promise me!" she said abruptly moving over to stand within inches of Ranma, glaring into his face. "Promise me on your honor as a Stark that my son won't be thrown into any battle, that you will try your damndest to make sure that, that he comes home without even a scratch on him."

Ranma opened and closed his mouth for a moment then asked plaintively "Do scratches from training count?" He quailed under her glare. One thing that had not changed from his old life to this one, Ranma did very poorly in the face of feminine fury. Still, he was getting better, at least he wasn't trying to run for the hills or insult Jonelle to start a completely different argument.

Across from him Jonelle began to tear up, and then she abruptly flung her arms around Ranma. Hesitantly Ranma put his arms around her shoulders as she sobbed into his chest. "Please, Ranma, he's my only boy, my son. I don't, I don't want him to, to come back like all too many boys do from war, scarred inside and out! Please, promise me he'll be safe!"

Without even a second's hesitation Ranma answered, his voice unwontedly formal. "I Promise on my honor as a Stark that I will do my best to keep your son safe, my lady."

"Good." Jonelle then smiled grimly, wiping away her remaining tears as she pulled back from the hug. "Now, if you could be so good as to send in my father, I wish to speak with him."

Ranma winced again, but didn't say anything, simply smirking a little after giving the older woman one last hug.

Leaving the room he spotted Jon ,Lord Cerwyn and the rest of what he was mentally calling his command staff. Greatjon in particular had a wide grin on his face as did Rickard though his smile was smaller and he tried his best to hide it behind a hand. "I notice my lords that none of you were volunteering to explain events to the lady." He said glaring at them all though in particular Lord Cerwyn.

Jon and the other wolfsworn at least looked somewhat guilty at that, but the others simply laughed. Cerwyn's laughter stopped abruptly however when Ranma went on. "Oh and Medger, your daughter wants to speak to you." With that he walked off with the others Greatjon's laughter now booming out unrestrained, following him, leaving Medger to his uncertain fate.

He found Daenerys already ensconced in their room, still wincing as she walked. He shook his head. "I am sorry about that, I guess we did go a little overboard."

"A little?" Daenerys asked tartly, before calming down. "I'm sorry Ranma. I really would like to…" she blushed. "To continue from last night, but my lower body is telling me that would be a very bad idea, especially with days of riding to look forward to."

"That's fine, I rule my body, not the other way around." Ranma said with a shrug, falling into the bed next to her. He pulled Daenerys to him. "Instead we can just cuddle Dae."

"Dae?" Daenerys sat up looking down at him through narrowed eyes, reminding Ranma a little too much of Jonelle at that moment. "What is that?"

"Er, a pet name? Um, some couples make them up for one another." Ranma replied, slightly nervously. "Er, would you prefer Narys?"

"No, just no. When we're alone, Dae is fine." Daenerys smiled as she said that, leaning down to kiss Ranma lightly on the lips. "More than fine actually, I like it, it just surprised me, no one's ever given me a pet name before. Now, you were saying something about cuddling?"

Ranma smiled, gathering Daenerys into his arms once more. "Glad you like it, Dae." At the foot of their bed Fenris and the two draklings laid back down, certain now this was some odd bit of the human mating ritual nonsense.

The next day the army moved out, with Cley now riding a horse his grandfather had chosen out of the castles stable for him in the center of the wolfsworn. Cley was an eleven year old boy, stout and strong of limb, and eager to see the world and get to know Ranma better, who he had always looked up to. He was sad to leave his family behind, but what could you do? Roger and Eddy immediately began to quiz him about their route, while the rest of the wolfsworn talked about the coming campaign with Rickard and Greatjon.

The day wore on, with nothing untoward happening until after they had stopped for rest and a quick meal. The army was traveling as quickly as possible, so the stops happened four times a day but were short, just enough to drink some water and water the horses before moving on. The midday stop was longer, while the officers made certain the men were fed a light but filling meal before starting the march once more.

At the back of the column there was a rather short swordsman in House Stark colors whose fellows had noticed that he kept to himself. They would even be hard pressed to say if he had joined them in either the camp of castle Cerwyn's barracks the night before. At the edge of their marching formation he looked up as a direwolf suddenly slunk out of the scrubland around them. While around them the men gaped in astonishment he grinned, removing his helmet to reveal that he was not in fact a 'he' at all but a most specific 'she'. More than one man who had reached for his weapon gaped as Arya Stark pulled herself onto Nymeria's back, and the two of them, with Arya waving farewell at the men moved up to the front of the column.

At the front of the army Ranma was finishing up a discussion detailing the continued order of the march and assigning everyone the command positions. Jon was quartermaster, along with Daryn. The two of them had the best head for numbers of the group for now, though that might change when more maesters joined them later on.

He had split the heavy Cavalry into two wings, putting Greatjon and Rickard in command of each, with Hathan and Roger as their seconds. Ranma took personal command of what he was starting to call the First Grenadiers, the pike levees raised from house Cerwyn and Stark, while Edd and Dacey were given command of the regular infantry forces. The scouts were led by Brynden, easily the best for the job, with two mountain clansmen as seconds.

This was more for relaying orders in battle than anything else, considering that the men of each house already had their own command structure that would see to the day-to-day needs of their man. Or so Ranma told Rickard and Greatjon. But both of them were wise enough to know that as the war continued, the lines between house affiliations would begin to blur, and Ranma was showing remarkable forethought in already putting a command structure in place to take advantage of that.

"With Jon along with the logistics position being second-in-command of your 'Grenadiers' odd name for the pike, but I understand a good name can put spine in the men, that only leaves the archers unaccounted for." Rickard said looking down at where Ranma was marching along.

He very carefully did not let his eyes stray to where Daenerys was riding beside Ranma, or the two direwolves that were carrying the two draklings as they loped along easily. While she had impressed him with her political knowledge and her forethought a time or two in the war council and she certainly seem to be able to think fast on her feet, her ability to lead men in battle was barely tested at this point.

Daenerys didn't know that, and was about to step up to volunteer to command the archers herself, when Ranma looked over to where Domeric was playing on his instrument again. "I want Domeric to take that job, for now anyway. We'll see who House Locke sent down with their men, but for now Domeric can command them." It wasn't perfect, and that hole in the command structure would need to be filled at some point, but Ranma had someone already in mind for that. Arya wasn't nearly as good a shot as Theon, but she'd do, especially if she was simply relaying his commands.

On Ranma's other side Daenerys frowned, and was about to interject when they all began to hear shouts and exclamations from the army marching behind them. It seemed to start near the back and spread forward and the command group turned. Seeing Arya racing up to them on Nymeria, Ranma laughed. "Couldn't wait any longer little sister?"

The rest of the wolfsworn laughed too, Dacey and Roger going so far as to reach out to the young girl and slap her on the shoulders when she pulled up beside them. "Oh you know me, always pushing!" Arya laughed shaking out her hair. She didn't have long hair, she much preferred it short, but having it under a helmet all day yesterday and this morning had bothered the heck out of her. She also couldn't take it off at night, lest she give the game away when the army had stopped the evening before at castle Cerwyn.

"What is she doing here?" Rickard said aghast. "Lady," he began looking at Arya. "This was ill-done. Your parents will be worried sick, you need to return immediately! A battlefield is no place for women, and we have too many of them already."

Daenerys's eyes were not the only one to narrow at that, but it was Daenerys who spoke up, patting Myrcella's arms where they were wrapped around her waist, the two of them once more sharing a horse. "If you are speaking of the princess here or my handmaiden, you will sing a different tune after our first battle my Lord. Their ability to aid the injured has already been proven. As for myself, of course I'm along. Who else would be able to control my little ones, or speak for me to those houses that still might retain some loyalty to mine?"

Rickard scowled. While he was willing to go along with things, much like the rest of the northern lords, their loyalty was first to House Stark and then in a very distant second to Ranma's new wife. That was how they thought about Daenerys, irrespective of her dragons. Yes, those dragons represented a massive force in the future, but right now they didn't represent anything but targets. Even though they could fly and breathe fire already, Rickard had seen the two at practice, they weren't powerful enough to get him to respect Daenerys as a force to be reckoned with. He had some respect for her mind, but that was all. Nor was he as quick to overlook what her father had done to spark Robert's Rebellion as Lord Stark or the smallfolk were.

To Rickard's side however Greatjon kept his mind on the problem at hand. He scoffed. "Bah, let her stay. I assume she's been training with the rest of the wolfsworn. You've really taken that name and run with it haven't ya Ranma?"

"Of Course." Ranma said laughing louder. We might not have chosen it, but it makes for a great name for my band of friends. And, if you haven't heard uncle Arya's already been blooded in battle."

Rickard frowned not having heard that while Greatjon looked over at Jon who nodded. "She was with us when we dealt with that raiding force of former Bolton supporters who tried a sneak attack on Winterfell months back."

Looking over at Arya, Greatjon then glanced at her sword noticing the odd shape of it as well as how thin it seemed. "Bah!" he scoffed again, shaking his head almost as if he was deriding the idea of the woman warrior entirely, though his eyes were shrewd as he watched Arya for a reaction. "That little toy of hers doesn't look like it could hurt a fly!"

Arya's eyes narrowed dangerously and with a swift move her sword was already in her hand the tip pointed towards Greatjon as Nymeria maneuvered around Fenris and Ranma to be in front of his horse making it stop its trot and back away warily. "My Fang's already tasted blood in defense of my family and my home, Lord Umber! Would you like a demonstration?"

After a second spent staring into Arya's eyes Greatjon bellowed in laughter, and slapping his thigh. "You Starks! Not an ounce of give in any of you."

"This is not a laughing matter!" Rickard said glaring at his fellow lord.

"Put it like this, uncle." Arya said turning back to him, using the honorific all the Stark children had taken to use with their distant kinsman. "You can try to send me home, in which case I'll simply run away again to rejoin you later. This way at least I'm already with the army, and my brother and the others can keep an eye on me."

"In that case, why don't you get down from Nymeria and march." Ranma said phrasing it as a question but his tone making an order. "Its good training." Ranma used the word 'march' because while they were going at a brisk pace, they certainly weren't running along, the infantry could have never sustained that, but the march was going as quickly as he could push the men without utterly exhausting them.

Arya scowled, but complied.

"Besides." Daenerys said coming back into the conversation. "There is actually precedent for girls her age to go to war. During the Dance of the Dragons there was a dragon rider her age that went to war. Arya reminds me of her in other ways too, Nettles her name was."

"I don't know that one." Arya said turning away from Rickard to look up at Daenerys.

"She was a Waters, a bastard from Dragonstone, who befriended and rode a wild dragon to war. She did remarkably well, and history says that she was Prince Daemon Targaryen lover during the end of the civil war, despite him being twice her age. The bards like to sing the two of them went into exile after he was sorely wounded in the Dance over Harrenhal."

"EWWW!" Arya blanched. "Don't compare me to her if she did that!"

That caused another round of laughter, and even Rickard snorted. "Fine, but if she gets hurt Ranma, you get to explain it to your mother. If you thought Jonelle was dangerous…"

Ranma blanched, but nodded willingly.

With Arya added to their party, the march continued. That evening she openly joined the rest of the wolfsworn in practice as the Army encamped all around them, with Jon leading the practices and Ranma organizing the army. Cley too joined them, with Roger taking over his instruction for now in a pattern that they would continue to follow until they reached the moat.

OOOOOOO

That evening, Arya joined the other girls in their one, albeit rather large, tent. She stared around at them all, utterly exhausted from the day's march and exercising on top of it. But there was something that needed to be said here. "Alright, I know we're all girls, but I don't talk about girly things like dress or boys or anything like that. I definitely don't want to hear anything like that conversation you and Alayaya had on the first day out Daenerys."

Merry flushed slightly at the memory of that conversation while Alayaya laughed, but Daenerys merely cocked her head in question. "How did you overhear us?"

"I didn't, but the army saw you two talking, and that plus my brother's response to it spread quickly." Arya replied her eyes narrowing.

"You might not want to talk about boys now, Lady Stark, but you will eventually, trust me." Alayaya laughed. "At that point you should be so lucky as to have a lover as…"

"LALALA!" Arya shouted, her fingers in her ear. "I'm not listening!" That caused even Merry to laugh aloud, but after Alayaya stopped teasing Arya, the night passed much better, with Arya slowly becoming friends with the trio.

OOOOOOO

By that point Arya's disappearance had been discovered back in Winterfell. Eddard had to sit on his wife hard to stop her from taking the horse and going after the army herself to drag Arya back. Catelyn was still unhappy that Ranma and Daenerys had been married so quickly, her son had become so willful while away, returning to his wild youthful ways. But she would be damned by the Stranger before she allowed Arya out of her sight!

However Eddard would have none of it and physically restrained his wife from heading out to the stables. "We need to let her go my love." he said, even as he fought Catelyn, his leg and shoulder making this a much more even contest then it would have been otherwise. "Arya is a warrior born, much like her older brothers. You can't force her to be home something she isn't. She is our child, not a doll we can direct against her will."

"I know that!" Catelyn barked at him, unhappiness written on her face even as she began to calm down from her initial response. The words had also struck her, as she remembered a conversation she had with Myrcella, how Cersei had loved her children but never truly saw them as their own people. It would be a cold day in the Stranger's hell before Catelyn allowed herself to be anything like that woman!

Yet even so, there were some aspects of being a noblewoman that Arya could not avoid so long as she was part of the family. "But she is still my daughter, and still part of this family. She has obligations she will need to fill in the future, and letting her run around like this will only make that more painful."

Eddard winced, deciding not to bring up the fact that he would never force either of his daughters into a marriage against her will. Arya was his sister come to life again, and Eddard refused to try to stifle her. Maybe if we hadn't stifled Lyanna, she wouldn't have run away. Or at least not arranged the marriage to Robert, which looking back on it I can see was the final straw.

"Yes, but surely you heard about Ranma's plans?"

At Catelyn's raised eyebrow Eddard laughed, knowing that this wasn't actually Ranma's reasoning, but it would do for now to stave off further argument. "He plans to take Cley of house Cerwyn as his ward on the march. And Cley is almost of an age with Arya..."

Catelyn suddenly laughed. "Oh that is devious, very devious my love. Did you and Ranma think that up between you?"

"I might have had something to do with it." Eddard said, smiling slightly now that the dangerous moment had passed and leading his wife back into his study. They had been there when the servants confirmed they couldn't find Arya anywhere and that her blade was missing as well as Nymeria. "That would be an excellent marriage wouldn't it?"

"You are so very devious," Catelyn said laughing now. She was still extremely worried for her daughter's safety off course. But now that the initial rush of rage at Arya willfulness and her fear for her daughter had subsided plus the odd flash of thought comparing herself to Cersei, Catelyn knew that with her brothers beside her Arya would be almost as safe as if she was back here in Winterfell. And it was true that putting them in proximity might make something spark between her and Cley. After all they did like one another already as friends and friends sometimes did make that their spouses. "Very devious indeed."

Despite Catelyn's thoughts, however devious or cunning Eddard might have been it was proven fact that he had nothing on the experienced schemers in King's Landing…

OOOOOOO

It was with a great amount of difficulty that Cersei resisted the desire to rub her forehead with frustration. "No Littlefinger, I refuse to send you to the Vale." She said, looking angrily down the table at the man. "For one thing, you probably wouldn't even be able to reach it. It's anyone's guess on how the Riverlands houses will jump given Hoster's little maneuver there."

Unconsciously echoing her father's thoughts, Cersei thought that had been a very shrewd move. It ensured that her father would either have to deal with each house, forcing them to bend a knee one after another, or deal with open rebellion in the form of small-scale attacks here and there. Since the Westerlands army was a veteran force and her father an excellent general against untried youngsters and for the most part weary oldsters that was easily the best way that the Riverlands houses could hurt her father's army.

Petyr scowled internally, while externally he kept the same passive expression he always did on his face. In the wake of the battle of King's Landing, the one that the smallfolk were calling the Battle of Two Truths, Petyr had lost practically all of his personal forces. Mercenaries were not known for their loyalty, or for their guts when their own was in danger. The losses they had sustained in street to street fighting against the better prepared, better trained and far more physically fit Northerners had gutted his numbers, and the rest had taken their pay and left the city as quickly as possible. It would take some time to rebuild those numbers, if he could do it at all.

The only exception was the men of House Kettleblack. A knightly house from the Crownlands, they at least had some honor, but more importantly were in debt to him so much they couldn't have pulled back even if they had wanted to. That about 20 men all told under Ser Osmund, the head of that house, and his two brothers. That wasn't enough men to matter, barely enough to see to Petyr's personal safety unless he made a nuisance of himself.

So despite his position as Master of Coin Petyr was beginning to feel very nervous when it came to his personal power base. That Cersei was wary of him was no surprise, that she had been doing such a good job of trying to control him was. But so was the fact that Jaime was equally suspicious of him, and watched him almost constantly. The man's spies were ludicrously easy to lose, but his suspicion was not good for Petyr's long term prospects.

"Surely your highness, you could see your way to sending a ship? The Vale might not have that much in the way of an offensive force, but it could field some twelve thousand men or so, enough to make a difference if added to your father's forces when the North inevitably comes south."

Cersei actually smiled slightly, which puzzled Petyr, but the smile had nothing to do with what he had said. No, her smile was caused by the memory of Ranma's vow to protect her daughter. It was surprisingly liberating to know that young man, with all of his astonishing abilities, would guard her daughter with his life regardless of whether or not he would face her family across the battlefield.

A second later the smile was gone and she shook her head. "A ship is out of the question. We've had to decommission and take apart most of the royally owned ships already for their wood trebuchets. And even if we had a ship to send, are you so certain that you would be able to get past Dragonstone?"

Stannis' propaganda had reached King's Landing several weeks ago, and Cersei's initial reaction had not been pretty. She had ranted and raved for hours about the lies being spread, despite the fact that Petyr, Pycelle and Jaime all knew that they were not in fact lies. More to the point, the fact that Stannis was prepared to interdict any traffic coming in and out of Blackwater Bay was a given.

Petyr conceded that, but still persisted. If he could get to the Vale, he could convince Lysa to turn over most of the power of the Lord Paramount's seat to him, and with the Vale as a power base he would become both useful to the Lannisters, and independent of them somewhat. "I understand your reluctance your Majesty, and I am most heartened by your worry over my personal safety. However, I still think it would be an excellent idea to at least send an envoy. If not me, then who do you have that knows anything about the Vale lands?"

There was also Petyr's fervent wish to not be in the King's Landing when Lord Lannister arrived. Whatever else might be said about him, Tywin Lannister was an incredibly effective ruler, and had proven this both as Lord of the Westerlands and as King's Hand before he and Aerys began to fall out. That Lord Lannister would have no truck with Petyr's little games, or that he might see right through all of the tricks Petyr used to hide how he had 'helped' the debt of the nation along, was a severe worry to the man.

"No one, I'll admit" Cersei replied honestly. "However as I said, sending an envoy at this time is impossible." Then she decided to throw the man a bone. "When the first reinforcements from the Westerlands arrive with Lord Serret, then we will have the men necessary to send with you on an overland trip to the Vale so long as the houses in the Riverlands along the route to the Bloody Gate have not thrown in their lot with the Baratheons or the Starks. At that time we will come back to this discussion."

Knowing that was as far as he could get without some kind of lever to force Cersei to see his point of view Petyr bowed his head. With that done, Cersei turned to Pyrcelle and her brother. "How goes preparing the defenses of the city?"

His little, arrogant smirk as usual on his face Jaime shrugged. That expression would normally have set Cersei's pulse to racing but only made her even more tired at the moment. "The Stokeworth and Rosby men are fully integrated into our defenses. We finished work on the various barracks for them near the walls yesterday. It's good strategic sense to have the most battle ready forces closer to the outer walls, though Lord Stokeworth took umbrage at it. He didn't like the fact that they are billeted here in the castle while their men were all out by the outers walls. The man Rosby sent with his forces, Ser Adrian Waters, didn't have a problem with it."

"I don't care if they understand or are happy about it." Cersei said bluntly. "They can take it as a sign of distrust, but until the Westerlands forces arrive, we will keep them at arms-length."

Jaime nodded. "The goal cloaks are up to strength, my training with them has proved beneficial I think. Not so much in their battle preparation is in their organization, but they're prepared to defend the walls at a moment's notice. The walls themselves are ready, as is the port area, where I think the first assault will land. Frankly I have no idea why it's taken so long for Stannis to attack as it is. If he had any idea of how badly mauled we were after the Starks attempted coup he would've been here already. That he hasn't has been a godsend to us."

He was about to hand over the conversation over to Pycelle to talk about the defenses more, but the Master of Whispers interrupted, speaking in that soft feminine tone he used. "It has come to my ears that Stannis struck down in the Stormlands, using the fact his brother retreated to the Reach instead of Storm's End and to rally support. I know House Buckler has gone over to his side, and possibly Errol. Certainly their banners were seen with his army as they marched out of Bronzegate. Unfortunately the little bird that passed this on to me has no head for numbers so I cannot help you there. But they were marching further south rather than up the Kingsroad to assault us from that direction. What that means I do not know, I am not a soldier."

Jaime frowned, as both he and his sister tried to visualize a map of the Stormlands. "Any news of actual battles?" Jaime asked after a moment.

"Some, and some more talk about the red witch as well. Most of it is speculation and seconds hand information, but my little bird had a client who apparently liked to talk after he got his money's worth." he smirked slyly. "The man talked about having seen the red witch burned Brienne of Tarth. Not at the stake but with some kind of conjured fire. She summoned it up when the Maid of Tarth refused to bend the knee to Stannis."

Jaime winced remembering all too easily the former mad king's fascination with fire and more importantly killing people with it. "I wouldn't think Stannis would have any truck with such as that, but I guess I was wrong about his character. Ambition trumps all."

"Regardless," he went on shaking his head from bad memories. "We will need to be ready for a far larger force in that case. Dragonstone alone would not have enough men to take the city now that we've refilled the Gold Cloak ranks, and brought more troops in ourselves. That'd be true even if Stannis could bring one or two of the other Narrow Sea houses under his control."

Pyrcelle now spoke up. "We've already built three trebuchets, all of them situated near the port area." Though he wouldn't mention aloud, those three had been built from a design Tyrion had shown him once. They were massive with a range far beyond anything a siege army could build in less than a few months, and no ship would ever be able to match its range. "The alchemists have also built up a reserve of wildfire despite much of their hoarded stores having been sent up to the Wall. We are in the process of moving some of it to positions near the walls at strategic points. Of course we need to be very careful doing so, but it will certainly be a surprise for any attackers."

The Grand-maester was actually surprised and a little worried about how quickly the alchemists had been able to make good their losses and then some. Even as little as a year ago it would take a master alchemist weeks to create a single gallon of the stuff, but now it took mere days. There was talk of some of the steps going much more efficiently and thus quickly than normal, but no one had come up with an explanation just yet.

Cersei nodded. "How goes the ongoing negotiations with the Faith?"

"They are finally behind us now, and their men throughout the city have begun to pass on rumors of the red witch and Stannis being no friend to the smallfolk, as we asked." Pyrcelle scowled, not liking how much that had cost them, which Cersei wholeheartedly agreed with.

The High Septon's aid had been bought by Cersei promising to pay off the debt the Crown had accrued to the Faith in her name as a Lannister. A debt she hadn't even known was there! The thought of that almost made her glare at the Littlefinger again, but she refrained. For now the weasel was still useful, easily the best of them with numbers and keeping an ear to the ground within the city, much like Varys was outside it.

"Unfortunately, both the Faith and our own rumormongers are having difficulty." Petyr said, speaking up now and exchanging a glance with Varys. "There are rumors going around the city that have nothing to do with Stannis' propaganda."

"How is his propaganda being seen by the smallfolk, and what rumors are you speaking of?" Cersei said cocking her head to one side. This was the first she had heard about any new rumors since judging by the way he said it Petyr meant rumors beyond what had previously known about from after the battle against Starks.

"Strangely enough despite their hatred for your family the accusations from Stannis have not been believed." Petyr said, not flinching as all three of the Lannister's present glared at him, even Joffrey now paying attention to his words.

And he was astonished about that, since those accusations were in fact the truth. "The smallfolk remember Robert and his growing approval for Tommen as well as the Princess and her friendship with the Starks and see that as reason to disbelieve it." At least in their case, he thought to himself. However he was not going to be the one to tell Cersei that protection had not spread to Joffrey, the only one still present in the city and the one wearing the crown.

In point of fact he doubted that the smallfolk would ever be fully on the side of the royal family ever again after this. The whole city was… not in open rebellion, none of the smallfolk had the spine for that, but a sullen acceptance of their rule rather than an enthusiastic one. There was nothing to be done however, and so long as the smallfolk actively didn't try to open the gates for their enemies or riot that was enough.

While his mother was very happy about this bit of news, Joffrey scowled angrily. Even now you still take the attention that should rightfully be mine from me Tommen! I should have killed you sooner!

Petyr went on. "And as for the rumors, there are rumors of prisoners taken in the battle against House Stark being tortured. It's been noted by many that there are far fewer of those prisoners then there once were, and one of the guards of the prison has spread rumors that they were transferred here to the Red Keep to be tortured."

Cersei frowned. She had known about Joffrey's attempt to break Sansa's spirit right after her father had escaped and while she would not have approved of it if asked her opinion, she understood the why of it. This however was something new.

Before Cersei could respond however Joffrey spoke up. "I know of that." he said startling his mother. Looking at her he shrugged. "Several of the men who took the Tower decided to take out their displeasure at how badly that battle turned out on a few of the prisoners. I tried to stop it." He said, his face set in a mournful look. "Torturing those people served no purpose, if they were rabble-rousers trying to get the other prisoners to act out I could've seen the point but as it was…" he shrugged.

Cersei frowned but took his words at face value as always. "I trust you had been discipline them?" As busy as she was with the small counsel and everything she had to deal with, Cersei hadn't spent any time at all with the Lannister armsmen, and knew only a bare handful outside the new men added to the Kingsguard.

But Jaime was looking a little askance at his son. He didn't honestly know how to take what Joffrey had said. Something told him it wasn't the full truth but what the full truth was, he didn't know. Jaime was slowly coming to understand that he didn't understand his son all that well.

Next to Jaime Petyr too looked at the young king. Joffrey's quickly becoming an issue. While Petyr could bend Joffrey's ear easily enough, and had continued to befriend him, that didn't blind Petyr to the fact that the boy was a psychopath. He enjoyed hurting people, and had gathered several other men of similar disposition to him. Luckily his agents had kept that from becoming common knowledge among the smallfolk. Thanks to the gossipers among the prison guards the fact those prisoners were disappearing was well known, but it hadn't happened been connected to Joffrey just yet. He didn't want to find out what would happen if the smallfolk realized they had a monster as bad as Aerys on the throne again.

"Of that may be sure mother." Joffrey said nodding his head. "However, now that our reinforcements have arrived and the Gold Cloaks have been brought up to strength, could we not march to take the field against Renly at least?"

Jaime scoffed at the very idea. "The gold cloaks aren't an offensive army. I wouldn't trust them beyond the city's walls with hunting bandits, let alone fighting a battle. No, they'll be of use on the wall, but that's all. We'll have to leave offensive operations to your grandfather."

"Agreed." Cersei said before changing the subject. "Varys, do you have anything else to report?"

"There is a representative of the Iron Bank here to speak to you, your Majesty, he is in the foyer even now. I am waiting for some agents of mine to run down some of the sailors from the ship that Ranma took to Pentos, it has apparently made port in Duskendale. I think we need to know how that mission turned out."

"It would certainly make our propaganda more effective if we could instill some truth in it…" Petyr murmured.

The others, in particular Jaime and Pyrcelle, winced at the very idea of the Targaryens returning to Westeros, especially if Ranma Stark had brought them back. That would be very bad indeed, but thankfully they hadn't heard any rumors of that just yet.

"Very well, show in the Iron Bank representative. Perhaps we can make some kind of deal with them about a payment plan in return for more liquid capital now." Cersei growled finally giving in to her desire to rub at her eyes for a moment before forcibly shaking herself.

The Iron Bank representative was a tall, spare man with a bald head obviously shaved that way rather than from age, and a calm deliberate manner even when simply walking into the throne room. He was dressed in simple yet well-made clothing, and a heavy Iron and gold torque hung from his neck down his chest.

"Your Majesty, your grace, thank you for seeing me on such short notice," The man said, his voice calm, almost soothing yet stern sounding at the same time. "I am a representative of the Iron Bank, and I have come to speak to of the outstanding loans that the Iron Throne has accrued from us. To wit, almost one and a quarter million gold dragons. The former Hand had worked out an excellent system for the repayment of that loan, and we were pleased with his progress."

That was putting it mildly. That debt that the Iron Throne had accrued from the Iron Bank had been up to almost three million golden dragons but in his time in the capital Lord Stark had done wonders to work with their bankers to funnel small bits of monies their way to start paying it off, and had pointed out several places where their own paperwork had been falsified, the monies given supposedly to the crown not even showing up in the Iron Throne's books, and thus could not lawfully be part of the debt.

The man didn't let his gaze slide to Petyr, who some in the Iron Bank felt was the orchestrator of that. The only reason the man had not already been assassinated, messing with bank paperwork at either end was a killing offense no hyperbole there, was the fact they couldn't actually pin it on him. They weren't about to move on Petyr without that proof since doing so if he was not the culprit might make the real one disappear. "With Lord Stark gone, the setup he had put in place to repay us has disappeared, so we wish to come to an understanding with you about a payment plan."

Joffrey growled angrily standing up as if to threaten the man physically though he didn't have the height or body for that to come off well. He seems more petulant than angry really. "Who are you to demand anything of the Iron Throne?! Some little piddling foreign bank, come here to demand terms of us!? We're at war in case you haven't noticed, this is no time for penny-pinching! Come back to us when we have crushed these usurpers that are causing so much chaos in our realm, and you might find us in a better humor!"

"Wars take time, as well as money. If we do not have any kind of agreement with you about a payment plan, we can no longer forward you more money to pay for your ongoing expenses." The man said calmly, staring first at Joffrey than Cersei. "We are a business, our own bottom lines come first after all."

The young king was about to explode again but Cersei held up a hand. "Calmly my son, while you are right that this is a time of war, we do need liquid capital." She looked with scant favor at the man. "At present, I will only promise to pay a third of that gold over time. Most of that debt was accrued by the previous king, and as such it is to House Baratheon the majority of the debt should be addressed. As Storms End and the rest of House Baratheon have risen in treason against the house's real heir, we cannot be held accountable for repayment of the debt the former lord accumulated at this time. Nor I will not agree to any long-term payment plans, as doing so would tie up the money coming in from our own resources. That is the best you are going to get."

The man's eyes narrowed, showing how unhappy he was with that decision. "That is not enough. We have a reputation to uphold as well as our bottom line to see to. We will require that money to be paid in full or steps may be taken to reclaim payment via... other methods."

"Was that a threat!" Joffrey asked incredulously. "I should have your head cut chopped off for that!"

To one side Ser Blount moved forward one hand on his hilt as if willing to do just that right there and then, but he was blocked from a nod by Cersei moving Ser Swann in his way. The two men glared at one another, but it was Blount who backed down.

Cersei turned back to the Iron Bank representative, who had not given his name. That was deliberate she knew, he was simply a voice for the bank, not one of their movers or shakers. "A third." she said calmly. "To be paid over the next two years from the gold reserves of the Rock, after I get in touch with my uncle. That is the best you are going to get."

The man shrugged. "I will take your words to my superiors but remember your highness", he went on, looking between the now nearly frothing mad Joffrey and the calm as ice queen. "The Iron Bank always gets its due." With that he walked out, leaving Cersei with one more problem and a smiling Varys who was wondering if he could somehow turn this to his own advantage and that of his patron.

OOOOOOO