Chapter 38: First Blood

The ship sailed steadily in the overbearing sun of southern Essos, being aptly named Balerion after the greatest of all the Targaryen dragons. Thankfully the Balerion had come with a canopy over the quarterdeck, and Jon took advantage of the shade to stare over the starboard side, where in the distance he could see the ruins of Old Ghis. Most notable of the crumbling city was the remnants of the once Great Pyramid.

"It was once 33 stories high." Daenerys' voice sounded from beside him. Jon turned and noticed that the Targaryen had joined him. "The pyramid in Meereen was modelled after it. Now it's the home of bats and spiders. Tyrion Lannister spoke of it in great detail when we planned the invasion of Ghiscar."

Jon had to keep reminding himself that she knew some version of modern Westerosi nobles. "It must have been marvellous in its hay day." He commented.

Dany shrugged. "The one in Meereen is, that's all I know. You will see that soon enough."

That was another thing that Jon wasn't overly comfortable with. "I don't see why we cannot just go to Westeros now. My Father will accept you I am sure…"

"Your Father." Dany said quickly. "Sounds like an honest and good man. But he is also Robert Baratheon's best friend and loyal subject. If the usurper asked for Lord Eddard to put me in chains and march me down to King's Landing he would do so." She sighed. "You mean well, Jon, but you underestimate Baratheon's hatred of my brother, your father."

Jon gulped. "I'm the cause for him rebelling, thanks for reminding me." He muttered bitterly.

Dany shook her head and placed a hand on his shoulder. "No, Rhaegar was the reason. My Father was the reason. You were a happy occurrence." She said brightly. "But while Baratheon lives I can't be safe in Westeros, and for that to happen I need an army."

"And that's why we're sailing towards Astapor." Jon noted.

"The Unsullied are the finest warriors in the world." Dany remarked. "Loyal to a fault and unyielding in battle. Yes, I wish to obtain their loyalty once more."

"Are they not slaves?" Jon asked. Dany's face fell into a scowl.

"Slavery has no part in my world." Dany snarled. "But it has a place in the world right now. I aim to eradicate it, Jon. But again, to do that and to change Slaver's Bay for the better I need more than a handful of Dothraki, two Northmen, a Direwolf and three baby dragons. I will free the slaves in Slaver's Bay, and I will rule as Queen until the time comes that the dragons are big enough to affect the coming war in Westeros."

Jon smiled at her determination. "And I will be beside you all the way." He promised.

Dany beamed at him. "Thank you." She said honestly. She stared out towards Old Ghis. "I need to ask you to trust me when we get to Astapor." She said solemnly. "Some things I do may be questionable, but they are all for a reason. Can you do that?"

Jon nodded. "I can." He told her.

Dany smiled, and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you." She repeated, before she walked away from him, leaving the Bastard of Winterfell staring at her gormlessly as she went.

It was a rare sunny day for the North. While still cold, the sky was cloudless and there was no snow on the ground. Ned was stood up on the balcony once more, watching as Arya, Rickon and Robin Arryn were practicing their archery under the guidance of Torrhen. The two younger boys weren't very good yet still being very young, but Arya impressed Ned. Her accuracy was still shaky, but her determination was infectious, and it was inspiring the younger boys.

Cat was beside Ned watching them too, although she wasn't quite as pleased by the scene. "They're too young, Ned." She said quietly, so that only he could here. "Robin is barely strong enough to hold the bow, let alone fire it properly.

Ned shook his head. "By the time I was his age, I was in the Eyrie learning under his Father." Ned explained. "I had been helping Benjen with the sword since I was Rickon's age. He is plenty old enough."

"They're boys, Ned." She sighed. "Bran is off fighting a war, Torrhen and Robb have just returned from one… can you blame me for wanting to keep Rickon safe, he's not even 6 yet!"

"He won't be a boy forever." Ned told her calmly. "And Winter…"

"Is coming, yes you mention that a lot." Cat said sharply, although she had a smile on her lips at the familiar words. "I suppose that means more than it usually does now."

Ned nodded, turning to his wife. "All we do now is to protect our family. Rickon may be young yet, but by the time this war comes, if Torrhen is right about the timing, Rickon will be older than Bran is now and Robin will be 15, almost a man grown."

Cat sighed, looking down at them both again as Arya celebrated hitting the centre. Ned caught his daughter's eye and nodded, causing the girl to have a beaming smile. "She'll be fighting too, won't she?" Cat said sadly.

"If I had my own way, no." Ned admitted. "But Father tried to curtail Lyanna and she resented him for it. I would not do the same for Arya, not when it's clear she has talent." He noticed Cat swap sides as she stared into the main courtyard, where Sansa was walking with his two eldest son's wives and children. The Direwolves were also running about having a play, much to the annoyance of the workers. Ned moved so he was behind Cat and wrapped his arms around her. "We were lucky." He admitted. "We all came out unscathed this time. Not everybody did."

Ned was looking at Mira as he said it, the loss of Rodrik Forrester still affected Torrhen he knew, but selfishly Ned was glad it hadn't been Torrhen that had died.

"Bran is still out there, younger than even Torrhen was." Cat stated bluntly. "I worry about him."

"Lord Stannis won't send him into battle." Ned told her as if it were obvious. "And he has Summer with him. He will be safe."

"You can't know that." Cat said shakily.

"No." Ned admitted. "But I have faith." He watched as Balerion gave little Asher Stark a big lick with a smile on his face. "The Gods blessed us when they gave Torrhen another chance, I have to believe that they still do."

The catapults had been firing non-stop since the blockade of Pyke and Lordsport had begun. The Royalist armada had smashed into the Iron Fleet off of the coast of Banefort in the Westerlands, and though dozens of ships were lost in the process, Stannis had claimed it had been a victory, though the smell of the burning ships as the Fury had passed them didn't seem very victorious.

He had been kept in the reserve on the Fury as the rest of the fleet had fought, and it was the same again during the siege. Bran had rarely slept as the bombardment of burning missiles had continued throughout the nights as well. One of the towers of Pyke, the outermost one, had already collapsed, though, and though Balon Greyjoy supposedly wasn't in it, Bran could only hope the others would follow soon so he could get onto dry land sooner rather than later.

He was sat in his cabin with Summer reading a book late one night when another crash was heard, making him jump. Sighing, he put his book down and looked over at his sword leaning up against the wall by his bed. Sighing, he got up off the bed and went to pour himself a drink. As he took a swig, a bell began to ring. Confused, Bran looked at Summer. "Stay." He said to the direwolf. Bran walked over to the door of his cabin and opened it, only for the two Stark guardsmen on the door to look at him worriedly.

"Get inside, milord." One of them, Rogar, said hurriedly. The large man grabbed his shirt roughly and dragged him back through the doors, shutting them firmly. "We've been boarded." He explained.

Bran looked up at the bearded warrior. "What? How?" He asked.

Rogar shook his head. "I don't know milord, but my job is to keep you safe." He scouted the room and picked up Bran's sword. "Take this and unsheathe it just in case." Bran did as he was asked. "Now hide there." He pointed to one of the corners of the room by the door. Bran ran over there and sat down, his sword on his knees. Summer came over to be with him, standing up facing the door with his teeth bared. Rogar had his sword out ready, just in case.

The commotion was growing louder, and Bran winced as he heard steel clashing outside the door before a loud thud. He watched Rogar growing more agitated, when the door was kicked in. Rogar went to move towards the intruders, but he was thrown backwards towards the bed when a hand axe was thrown towards him, embedding itself in his head. In walked a woman, her hair was tangled, and blood splattered on her face and chest plate. "Baratheon isn't here." She said, as she pulled the axe out from Rogar's head. Summer snarled and charged. Wrapping his jaw around her wrist. The woman screamed as Summer dragged her to the floor before the Direwolf lunged for her neck, ending her.

"Yara!" A young man roared as he entered the room towards and rushed towards the wolf, only to force himself to stop as Summer snarled at him. Another, bigger and fiercer man barged past and went for Summer, but the Direwolf stopped him too by lunging up and tearing his throat out. That gave the younger Ironborn time to spot Bran however, and he grinned knowingly. "A baby Stark." He grinned, as he grabbed Bran by the shirt. "You're dead." He snarled. Before Bran knew it, the man with the Botley sigil of a fish on his chest plate instead of the Greyjoy kraken roared in pain, and Bran in his panic saw Summer latched onto his thigh. Squirming, Bran suddenly remembered he had a sword in his hand and thrust forwards. The Botley dropped him with an alarmed look on his face as his hands reached for the sword in his throat. Bran hit the floor with a thud, and he cried out in pain as the man fell on top of him.

"Help!" He cried. "Help me!"

He didn't know how long he was shouting for, but the man was eventually tugged off of Bran. The Stark sat up coughing, trying to get a full lungful of air when he saw Summer was his saviour, his golden grey fur covered in blood. Bran hugged the wolf tightly, not letting go until he heard a voice he recognised. "Brandon!"

It was Stannis, closely followed by Matthos Seaworth. "I'm here!" Bran cried. Stannis entered the cabin and had a look of relief on his face.

"Are you alright?" Matthos asked, kneeling before Bran and checking him over.

Bran nodded. "Summer… Summer saved me."

Stannis looked around at the bodies in the room, another couple having been added since Bran had last had a good view. He noticed the girl and grimaced at the sight of her mangled arm and neck. "Yara Greyjoy." He stated bluntly.

Bran's eyes widened. "Theon's sister?" He asked without thinking.

Stannis nodded. "Your wolf has done us a favour." Stannis said, before he saw the man that Bran had killed. "As have you it seems."

"I… I didn't know what else to do." Bran said, his breathing growing more erratic. "He grabbed me… and Summer distracted him… and I had the sword."

"You did well, Brandon." Matthos insisted kindly. "It was him or you."

Bran saw the body properly for the first time as he was helped up. "I killed him…" He whispered. He felt bile rise up and turned away, emptying the contents of his stomach over his bed. Stannis poured him some water and forced it into his hands. "Drink, take your time."

"What happened?" Bran asked.

Matthos scowled. "They used muffled oars and slipped through the lines."

Bran looked at Stannis. "These ones were looking for you."

That was new information for the Hand of the King, but he nodded. "They wanted to kill me and damage the siege efforts. A smart plan." Stannis admitted. "And impressive that they made it to the ship." He looked down at the bodies. "Matthos, throw the dead overboard. Reunite them with their god."

"My Lord." Matthos bowed.

"Not the Greyjoy though." Stannis told him. "She goes with us when we take the castle."

Matthos bowed again as he went to gather men, and Stannis sat on the bed, patting it to gesture for Bran to sit beside him. "My first true experience of death was my parents." He admitted. Bran knew the story and kept silent. "The first time I truly saw it up close was during the siege of Storm's End. My first actual kill in battle… that was during Balon Greyjoy's first rebellion. A young man that fought for House Hammerhorn on Great Wyk." He looked into the distance. "You will always remember his face."

"I just can't believe I killed him." Bran whispered, his hands were shaking still.

"You're young." Stannis said calmly. "Too young, probably. But Matthos was right, it was either him or you, and I for one am glad that you did. As will your family."

Bran gulped, thinking on what his Mother would think when she heard. "What happens now?" He asked.

"We step up the bombardment." Stannis said through angry, clenched teeth. "I want that island taken once and for all, and Balon Greyjoy in chains before me." He looked at Bran. "For you though, you rest and recover. This won't happen again, I promise you."

Bran appreciated that and stood up when Stannis did so. "I want to help where I can." He said firmly, looking around the room. "I can't stay here while…"

His eyes rested on the Botley man, and Stannis understood. "Do you remember the flag signals I taught you?" The Baratheon asked. Bran nodded. "Rest in my cabin for now, but at first light signal the ships to double the assault."

"Yes, Lord Hand." Bran said firmly. Stannis patted Bran on the back and led him outside. The deck was littered with bodies, both Baratheon and Ironborn. Bran had to step over a few before he was led to Stannis' own cabin. He settled himself down on the cot and stared up at the ceiling, the Botley man's eyes firmly implanted in his memory.

Torrhen had been summoned to Ned's solar and was internally running over everything that could possibly have gone wrong. Things had been nice and calm over the last few weeks since he had returned to Winterfell, and nothing ever stayed entirely positive for too long. As he approached one of the guards outside the room knocked on the door and announced him, and Torrhen entered, noticing Ned staring at a raven message.

"It's not from the South, is it?" He asked, hopeful that nothing had happened in Pyke.

Ned shook his head. "We have heard nothing since the Royal Fleet docked in Lannisport." He admitted. "No, this is from Castle Black."

Torrhen froze. He realised that Jon not being there could have knock on effects that could prove disastrous for everyone. "What's happened?"

"The veterans of the Watch, by their own standards of veteran, have gone on a great ranging." Ned explained. "Ser Jaime has arrived with his Westermen and they are currently being trained as brothers of the Night's Watch, and Victarion Greyjoy has been locked in an ice cell until he learns comradery. But it's the great ranging that worries me."

He handed Torrhen the letter and the younger Stark read it carefully. They already knew that Benjen was missing when Robb went over everything that had happened in the North while they were away in detail, but as Torrhen read the news that a pair of brothers had risen from the dead and looked to attack the Lord Commander's chambers, only to be stopped when Samwell Tarly had sounded an alarm and used the Lord Commander's Valyrian Steel sword on the bodies. Torrhen snorted when he read that bit.

"Is anything funny?" Ned asked, unamused.

"No… well yes." Torrhen corrected himself. "The thought of Sam Tarly being a hero to the Watch, he was an outcast before I died…" He trailed off in thought. "That's drastically different too."

Ned caught on. "And Lord Randyll died in the war, prematurely I presume."

Torrhen nodded. "The Gods are with us, Father." He whispered. "They knew Jon wouldn't be at the Wall and sent the only other man with the knowledge and capability to ensure the Watch's survival."

"Can he be trusted?" Ned asked.

Torrhen thought for a moment and nodded. "He was a self-confessed craven, but he was brave when he had to be. The first man in 8,000 years to kill a White Walker." Torrhen remembered having to drag him towards the crypts the night he died, however. "Although I wouldn't trust him in a proper battle." Another thought popped into his head at that moment. "He won't be able to mend ties with the Wildlings though, not like Jon."

Ned sighed. "Then that is a problem."

"I could do it." Torrhen told Ned, causing the Stark Lord to look at his son amusingly, before realising he was serious.

"No, it's too dangerous." Ned shook his head. "You don't know the area…"

"But I know the people." Torrhen argued back. "Well, some of them. Jon was instrumental in gaining their allegiance and he's in Essos. We need somebody to attempt it, and who better than the son of the Warden of the North?"

Ned didn't like the idea, in fact he hated it. "If Benjen knew the area so well and even he goes missing…"

"Uncle Benjen went further North than we should need to." Torrhen countered. "And I won't be stupid, any sign of trouble I'll head straight back."

Ned looked at Torrhen sadly. "Is there any other way?"

Torrhen shook his head. "Not unless you go."

Ned thought that Catelyn would chain him up in the dungeons if he even suggested it. He sighed, defeated. "We'll need to offer them something, an incentive to ally with us."

"Jon offered them the Gift." Torrhen remembered. "The land there is plentiful and fertile, and the Watch aren't using it."

Ned looked over at a map. "Lord Umber won't like it." He mentioned.

Torrhen snorted. "Lord Umber doesn't like anything unless he's killing or fucking it."

Ned chuckled. "Aye, I'll bring him around I'm sure." He sighed. "Are you sure about this? You don't know what you're walking in to."

Torrhen nodded. "It has to be me, I can feel it." He looked at the map again and noticed the new name for the hastily built port town on the Stony Shore scribbled onto the parchment. "I'll take a boat from Greyport up to the Frozen Shore. From there we can head towards the Frostfangs and scout from the mountains."

Ned nodded. "You'll take a dozen men, highly trained." It was an order. "And you can tell your Mother that it was your idea."

Torrhen groaned, bracing himself for the argument that was to follow. "I wonder who will react worse, Mother or Mira?"

The answer to that question was Mira. The young Forrester woman was eerily silent when Torrhen told her the plan, though her eyes showed the rage that was within.

"You've just come back." She stated plainly, stood up in their room just out of reach. "And now you're putting yourself in danger once more."

Torrhen sighed as he sat on the bed. "We need to bring them into the realm, Mira. They have numbers that we can't afford to lose…"

"Then send somebody else." Mira tried. "I don't want to lose you to those savages."

Torrhen chuckled. "They're not that different to you or I really. A bit dirtier and a bit ruder maybe, but at the end of the day they are men and women too, and if we don't help them it makes our eventual task that much harder."

Mira shook her head sadly. "We have a newborn, Tor. He needs his Father."

Torrhen stood up so that he was inches away from his wife. He opened his arms out inviting her for a hug, and after a moment of thought Mira accepted it. "Once the war is won, we will have plenty of time for peace I swear to you. But right now things are far too important to leave to chance. I can't let the Night King gain over 100,000 men because we were too slow to act no matter how much I would rather stay with you and Asher."

Mira sighed loudly. "You won't be persuaded, no matter what I do, will you?" She looked up at him, pleading with her eyes.

Torrhen shook his head. "This is just too important. With Jon in Essos and Robb in the Iron Islands there is nobody else." He kissed the top of her head. "Come to bed, I won't be going for a while as we prepare the journey anyway, and I plan on spending as much of that time with you and Asher as I possibly can."

Mira smiled up at him, pulling him in for a gentle kiss before Torrhen pulled her down on the bed, ignoring her giggles as she found herself on top of him.