Chapter 19: Inevitable War

Bran Stark was in awe of Dragonstone. The Red Keep was exciting, but everything from the alien look of the Valyrian castle as they sailed into the bay alongside a vast number of ships that were already anchored in the bay to the long winding steps up from the beach to the castle truly excited the youngster. Even getting inside the castle and seeing the bright yellow banner with the crowned stag of Baratheon dangling from the ceiling filled Bran with awe.

As Stannis and Renly quickly made their way to the Chamber of the Painted Table, Bran was immediately shown to his chambers, a fairly large room that befitted his Stark name that was close enough to Stannis' own rooms for him to be able to perform his duties as squire. His chest had also been moved, so Bran set about unpacking his things.

He had been doing that for around 5 minutes or so when a knock at his door came. Bran quickly swivelled around to see a young girl, around his age. "Hello." He said shyly.

"You're Brandon Stark, aren't you?" The girl asked, both nervously and excitably at the same time. Bran just nodded. "I'm Shireen."

Shireen Baratheon, the girl he would one day marry. Bran gulped and looked at his betrothed. She had the black hair and the blue eyes of House Baratheon, and while she wasn't exactly what Robb or Theon would have called pretty, Bran didn't think she was ugly either. Then he caught notice of the grey scales on the left side of her face.

"I'm happy to meet you." Bran said with a smile, not staring for too long in case he was seen as rude.

"Me too." Shireen said. "There aren't many people my age on the island, so I don't get to talk to many people."

"Nobody?" Bran asked in surprise.

Shireen shook her head. "So I hope you don't mind me coming to meet you. Mother would be furious, but I had to."

Bran just smiled warmly as he reached into his chest. "I'm only unpacking. You can help me if you like?"

That clearly meant the world to Shireen, as she beamed at him with a warm smile. Skipping over to his chest she found a book inside. "Lies of the Ancients, I haven't read this one!"

"Oh that?" Bran shrugged. "I think my sister put that there as a joke, Old Nan says that it's full of rubbish and is only good to laugh at."

"Can I borrow it?" Shireen asked excitedly, before calming herself. "I apologise, I've known you for a couple of minutes and I'm already stealing your things."

Bran felt bad for the girl and felt extremely lucky that he had grown up with all of his brothers and sisters. Realising how loneliness must have meant she lived in her books, Bran nodded. "Of course you can borrow it. As I said, I think Arya put it in there as a joke."

Shireen grinned happily once more. "Thank you!" She exclaimed. She put the book to one side and began helping Bran unpack his things, as she asked him about Winterfell and his family. They must have been amicably chatting for almost an hour when another knock at the door came. Bran noticed the ship captain that he had travelled to the island with. Shireen on the other hand grinned and exclaimed. "Onion Knight!"

"Onion Knight?" Bran asked before he could stop himself. Luckily the man smirked.

"Aye, Lord Brandon." The man said.

"Bran." Bran responded quickly. "Lord Brandon was my Uncle."

"The Uncle that died before the rebellion?" Shireen asked quickly, before realising how that sounded. "Sorry, I didn't mean…"

"I didn't know him." Bran shrugged.

The Onion Knight cleared his throat. "Nice to finally talk to you, Bran." He said, holding out his hand for Bran to shake. "I'll tell you the story of my nickname one day, but for now it's Davos Seaworth."

"Ser." Shireen corrected. "You are a knight, Ser Davos."

"A fact that you never fail to remind me, My Lady." Davos smiled at the girl. "Your Father is looking for you."

Shireen grinned once more. "Father? Where is he?"

"The Chamber." Was all Davos said.

Shireen turned to Bran. "I'll see you again soon, I'm sure."

"Bye." Bran said awkwardly. The Baratheon girl then skipped away out of the room. "She's really talkative." He noted aloud.

Davos smiled fondly. "Not often, she must like you."

Bran didn't know what to say to that, instead just staring at the doorway gormlessly at where Shireen had just departed from, when he realised that she had forgotten the book.

Olenna Tyrell watched the rider race into Highgarden from her tower room. Normally she wouldn't have cared, but even in her aging eyes she could see the yellow banners of House Baratheon following the rider into the castle maze.

"Left, Right." She called for her two guards. "Help me towards the hall."

She made it in time for Loras to receive the envoy and noticed that he was wearing the green turtle of House Estermont on his steel gorget. Sitting down in her chair to the side of her grandson, she waited as Loras received his guest.

"Ser Andrew." Loras greeted. "A welcome surprise."

"I wish I came in better tidings, Lord Tyrell." Ser Andrew Estermont said. "But I was bid to give this to you, and you alone."

He held out a letter and moved to walk forwards to the white marble throne that Loras was sat in. A pair of guards made to stop him, but Loras quickly waved them away. "Ser Andrew is the cousin of the King, Ser's. Let him pass."

Loras took the letter from the Estermont, and Olenna watched as his eyes initially softened after breaking the seal and reading what she assumed was Renly's words, only for those eyes to narrow and harden. She presumed it was something dangerous.

"Thank you, Ser Andrew." Loras said suddenly. "Please, the hospitality of Highgarden is yours. Stay the night and I shall have a response for you to take back to Dragonstone by the morning." That interested Olenna, why had this Stormlander sworn to Renly Baratheon come from Dragonstone? She didn't have too long to wait however, as once Ser Andrew and his two banner holders had departed Loras stood up and immediately dismissed the court, before walking past her and saying. "My solar."

Less than 10 minutes later, Olenna was alone with her grandson. "What is it?" Olenna asked. Loras just handed her the letter. Reading it, Olenna was even more intrigued at the words. "Stannis Baratheon has fled King's Landing with Renly?"

"They speak of treason, Grandmother." Loras said quietly, careful of being overheard. "The Queen…"

"Yes, I see what it says." Olenna interrupted. Of course she already knew the treason was accurate, and she also knew that Torrhen Stark had seen fit to tell her about what else was coming. "This explains a lot. Why Ned Stark was in King's Landing in the first place, why Jon Arryn is gathering Knight's of the Vale in King's Landing."

"He is?" Loras asked.

Olenna just smirked. "Renly is asking for the Reach's support against the Lannisters. He shall get it."

"This is unusually risky for you, Grandmother." Loras noted.

"These are risky times, boy." Olenna snapped, before softening slightly. "The Stark's poking their noses south of the Neck for the first time since the Rebellion, Stannis and Renly actually working together, Jon Arryn sending his son away…"

"How do you know all this?" Loras asked.

"I have my ways." Olenna shrugged. "But do you want to be seen dithering while whatever is coming goes down, or do you want to stand beside those with the King's favour in serving this treasonous whore the justice she deserves?"

Loras looked thoughtful. "Renly has asked for my aid. He shall receive it." He nodded. "He just asks us to prepare, not call the banners just yet."

"And there are many ways to prepare." Olenna replied. "We ensure that our western border is fully prepared for battle. We place regular patrols on the Gold Road, and we get you a wife."

The last one took Loras by surprise. "Excuse me?" He questioned.

"Have you cheese in your ears?" Olenna asked. "We need to find you a wife. You are the only male heir of your dim-witted Father. You need a wife and a child to keep your line going or Highgarden will pass to whomever Margaery marries. Do you want that?"

"No, but…"

"No buts." Olenna said sternly. "You wed a maiden, you bed the girl and then you get her pregnant. Chances are you'll only need to get her pregnant the once to have a boy and then you can go back to biting the pillows of Storm's End if you so desire, but you do your duty to House Tyrell first, am I clear?"

Loras was aghast at the suggestions, but Olenna's look stopped him from denial. "Fine." He said bitterly. "Find me a woman and I'll try."

It was a thinly populated Small Council that Jon Arryn walked in on. The only attendees being Varys, Baelish and Pycelle. Pretending to be shocked, the Hand of the King stood in the doorway and looked around.

"And here I was thinking I was late." He commented.

Varys nodded. "Yes, it seems that Lord Stannis and Lord Renly have both disappeared from the Capital."

Jon moved to take his seat. "Disappeared?" He asked. "Surely not."

"Renly must have just ridden out to Highgarden." Baelish commented. "He's known to do so, of course."

Jon knew what Baelish was insinuating, and for the first time since Ned had been to see him and explained everything, he saw just how devious Littlefinger could be, trying to plant seeds into all of their heads. "Or Storm's End, his actual seat." He said firmly. "Or he could be in the city somewhere, doing his job."

"He most definitely is not in the city, Lord Hand." Varys remarked in his song like voice. "In fact, it seems like the only Baratheon household in the Red Keep is His Grace's own."

Jon frowned. "With no explanations?" He asked.

"None, Lord Arryn." Pycelle added.

"That doesn't seem like either of them." Jon noted. He turned to the Grand Maester. "Send ravens to Storm's End and Dragonstone calling for their returns, or their resignations."

"Lord Hand?" Pycelle questioned. "Is that not a bit… drastic?"

"Drastic is leaving King's Landing in the middle of the night with not much more than a goodbye." Baelish said to Pycelle. "Asking for them to resign is asking them to confirm their intentions."

Jon nodded reluctantly. "Exactly. And until we have answers I don't think there's much point in us meeting as regularly, not for just the four of us. You can all go." Surprise showed on all of their faces, but they all stood, nonetheless. Baelish and Varys left quickly, but Pycelle dawdled, giving Jon the chance he needed. "Grand Maester, a word if you will."

Pycelle stopped and turned around. "Of course, Lord Arryn."

"I need to borrow a book that I think you have in your personal collection."

Pycelle furrowed his brow. "Which book, My Lord?"

"The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms." Jon Arryn quoted exactly.

"Ah, yes." Pycelle nodded. "I do have that. A rather ponderous tome, are you sure you wish to bore yourself with it?"

"Consider me interested." Jon stated. "I'm an old man, it will be good to read about some old friends."

Pycelle bowed his head. "Ah of course, forgive me."

"Not at all." Jon waved away. "I presume the book is in your chambers, shall we?" He asked, gesturing to the door.

Pycelle nodded and began walking out of the Small Council chambers, followed closely by Jon, who hoped that he hadn't given anything away in the meeting as well as that the book as well as the knowledge of the bastards would be enough evidence to prove them all right about Cersei's children.

Torrhen Stark walked through the corridors of the Red Keep until he saw his brother standing by a window. Bran was a couple of years older than Torrhen remembered him being and had a sword strapped to his hip. The younger Stark obviously didn't notice Torrhen moving to stand beside him, and the pair just stood there looking outside at the city.

It started from the docks, the buildings nearest the Blackwater began to blacken from the ground up. Torrhen looked on in alarm as it started spreading slowly, until the entirety of Fleabottom was covered, and eventually the entire city landscape was black and rotting.

"I don't want to die." Bran said, shaking from beside him. Torrhen turned and saw that they had been joined by Ser Barristan Selmy.

"We are in the safest part of the city, Brandon." Ser Barristan reassured the youngster. Torrhen didn't see anymore however as the entire world went white.

As the world came back into focus, Torrhen recognised that he was on the apex of the Great Pyramid of Meereen. He looked out at the peaceful city to see Daenerys Targaryen's dragons flying playfully around the pyramids, racing towards where Torrhen was stood. As they grew closer he saw that Rhaegal had a rider. Squinting his eyes in the harsh sunlight, all he could make out of the rider was dark hair, and his vision changed once more.

He was now back in King's Landing, but in the ramshackle streets of Flea Bottom rather than the splendour of the Red Keep. Taking a note of his surroundings he was surprised to see that he was all alone. Walking into one of the shops on the street, he frowned in confusion when that was empty too.

Everywhere was abandoned, all the people in Flea Bottom were mysteriously absent. Torrhen looked up to find the direction of the Red Keep, wondering what the point of this vision was when suddenly he felt shaking beneath his feet at the same time as hearing distant explosions. Before he could react, he felt searing heat beneath his feet and felt himself thrown into the air in an eruption of green flames, only to land in the snow.

Spitting out the snow that he had unwillingly eaten on impact, he looked around and saw that he was outside of a monstrous fortress. A curtain wall that was at least 100 feet high, with 9 towers poking out of the walls equidistance from one another.

"TORRHEN!" Robb's voice screamed. Torrhen looked over to see his elder brother, now a grown man. "FALL BACK!"

Torrhen noticed that his clothing had changed. In all of his other visions he had been wearing the same clothes as he had been dressed in before he had the visions, now he was in his trademark black tarred Stark armour, with Winter's Bite gripped in his hand. He raced towards the gates of the seemingly finished Moat Cailin and gasped as the doors slammed shut.

The rest bite of the Northern forces only lasted for a moment though, as cries went up and people pointed at the top of the walls. A body came flying down, and Torrhen recognised Rickard Karstark.

"Shit." He swore, as from where the body had fallen a giant spider came crawling down the walls.

"FORM UP!" Ned roared, his beard greyer and Ice in his hands. The spider was huge, and the White Walker on it's back filled the entire castle with dread.

The Walker dismounted the spider once it reached the muddy ground of Moat Cailin's courtyard, and the Northmen charged at it. Torrhen was just stood in horror however as the spider decimated the defenders, and his Father engaged the Walker.

Robb roared and went for the spider, and Torrhen barely had enough time to scream his brother's name when his vision went white once more, and he was lying on the floor of the Wolf's Den Godswood.

He panted, gasping for air. "Spiders." He whispered, scrambling backwards until his back hit the Weirwood tree. "They didn't have spiders."

"What did you see?" Ned Stark's voice came from nearby. Torrhen's father had offered to stand vigil while Torrhen had his visions.

"I… I'm not sure yet." Torrhen panted, accepting a water skin from Ned. "Death, lots of it. Ice spiders like Old Nan's tales… Flea Bottom burning… it's a lot to take in."

Ned looked worried and laid a reassuring hand on Torrhen's shoulder. "Take your time, have a drink tonight and we will discuss it properly on the road home in the morning. Lord Wyman is expecting us."

"Father." Another voice called out in the distance. Torrhen saw the silhouette of Jon Snow appear through the trees. "Are we ready?"

"Aye." Ned answered. "Ride ahead Jon, tell Lord Wyman that we shall be there soon." Jon did as he was asked, and as soon as he was out of hearing range Ned sighed. "He seems to have taken my harsh words to heart."

"He's ready." Torrhen told his Father. "It's almost time. The turn of the century is coming, and we will soon be at war. He must know the truth."

Ned nodded. "In Winterfell. It must be in Winterfell." He told Torrhen. "And then he will get to choose his fate. I've shielded him for this long, it's time I stopped and let Jon make his own way."

Robb would never lose the feeling of joy whenever Winterfell came into view in the distance. His journey to Torrhen's Square had been a good one, the people now had their food and Robb in turn had an army. Both Ser Helman Tallhart and Lord Rodrik Ryswell had met him with their entire hosts and joined him on the road back to Winterfell, ready for the battles to come.

That wasn't the only surprise for Robb however, for as they got closer to the castle the heir to Winterfell noticed that Wintertown wasn't the only settlement close by, and that a sea of tents had been put up outside the castle.

"How many do you think there are?" Robb's new squire, Benfred Tallhart, asked in awe.

Theon just scoffed. "More than you can count, thick neck."

Robb rolled his eyes. Theon had been making fun of the 13-year-old ever since they had arrived in Torrhen's Square. "Theon. Go ahead and make sure my Mother knows to expect us." He told his friend. Theon nodded and rode ahead of them. "Ignore him, Ben. What banners can you see?"

"I see…" The younger boy strained to see. "I see the banners of House Glover, House Forrester, Houses Woods and Bole…"

"All the Lords of the Wolfswood, so likely around 2,000 men if they've all brought their full strength." Robb explained.

"I see House Umber and Bolton too." Ben told Robb.

Robb smiled. "Two of the stronger houses of the North. Along with Winterfell's own banners I'd argue that between the four regions we will have around 15,000 men here at the moment, with more to come once the other Lords filter in."

"Wow…" Ben whispered.

Robb admired the boy's awe. "Come on, let us get settled into Winterfell and you can admire the numbers in your spare time."

He urged his horse on, closely followed by Benfred and the rest of the column as part of the western North joined their strength to Winterfell's in preparation for the inevitable war in the South.