Chapter 55: Crow's Eye

306 AC

It had been a long time coming, but the burning fire of the Hightower of Oldtown was finally within sight. Euron Greyjoy stood on the deck of the Silence and grinned to himself in the dark. After his first footsteps on Pyke well over a year earlier he had systematically gone and beaten the rest of the Iron Islanders into submission, the rotting head of Rodrik Harlaw sitting on a spike on the Silence doing wonders for persuading the less enthusiastic of Iron Captain's.

From then it was about armament. All the wood of the Iron Islands had been harvested and turned into ships, enough ships that the Iron Fleet had become more of an Iron Armada, Euron turned his head and saw the silhouettes of hundreds of ships following him and he grinned again, before that became more of a hardened focus. It was finally time to show the Greenlanders just who they had messed with.

The Small Council had had to start without one of its members when nobody could find the Master of Ships Ser Baelor Hightower, and Stannis impatiently begun proceedings. Bran was once again appointed as scribe, a job that he had fell into almost by accident after the Moat Cailin Treaty had been signed. It was an important role however, as Stannis had often taken to reviewing the Council meetings in order to go over what could be improved during the sessions.

"The Northern evacuation plans have been improved." Wyman Manderly explained. "My boy Wylis wrote to me to explain that temporary docks and ports have been put into place all the way up the White Knife and the Saltspear in order to get all non-combatants out efficiently. Ships will be sent to each port as and when we have the crews to command them."

Stannis nodded his approval. "Very good. Send our gratitude to Lord Stark." He turned to Davos. "What of the Obsidian?"

Bran looked up from his scribbling at that. Stannis made next to no comments about the new rulers of Dragonstone and left all necessary correspondence to his Hand. The former smuggler cleared his throat and answered. "Still being shipped weekly, Your Grace."

Stannis murmured in approval. "And of our own forces?"

"Training constantly." Renly explained. "The Goldcloaks are even offering the smallfolk the chance to learn a weapon in the occasional lesson so we can call upon better trained manpower as we need it."

"That will all mean nothing if the Night's Watch don't sort themselves out." Olenna Tyrell mumbled. "More letters from that blasted man Thorne complaining again."

Stannis groaned. "Grand Maester Yandel, write in explicit terms that the Wildlings are abiding by their side of the bargain, and that they will all return North of the Wall once the coming war is over. All the Lord Commander needs is patience."

"If only we could replace him." Wyman Manderly sniggered. "I hate to say it, but the Kingslayer himself would be better off in charge up there."

"If we start interfering in the affairs of the Night's Watch the entire point of their autonomy becomes useless." Bran input. "As much as we dislike it, we can only be firm with the Lord Commander."

Stannis nodded. "Brandon is right. We…" He was interrupted when the doors flung open, and in stormed Baelor Hightower.

"Those squid bastards have done it again!" He roared, slamming down a letter on the council table and sitting heavily in his own seat. "Apologies for being late Your Grace, My Lords, but I received a frantic visit from my youngest brother this morning."

Stannis took the letter and began to read aloud. "Oldtown besieged. Hundreds of Ironborn ships. Send aid." He sighed, massaging his temples. "The Ironborn. Again." He growled.

"They need to be dealt with, quickly." Davos said.

"We can't forget the North." Wyman Manderly countered. "A grand campaign like the last time is just unfeasible at this point, so close to next year…"

"I will not abandon my family." Baelor snapped. "Send me alone if you need to, Your Grace, but I will go and defend my home."

"You shall, as my Master of Ships." Stannis confirmed. "But not alone." He stood up and faced towards a window. "Grand Maester Yandel."

"Your Grace." The man bowed.

"Send ravens to Highgarden, The Arbor, Storm's End, Casterly Rock and Dragonstone." Stannis commanded. "I require their men and their ships. We will drive the Ironborn away from Oldtown and then finally put an end to the Ironborn menace once and for all."

"Dragonstone, My King?" Davos asked.

Stannis turned back towards the Small Council, setting his jaw and he nodded once. "Ships are just wood, Lord Hand, and what better to burn wood than dragon fire. The Targaryen's have bent their knees and sworn me oaths, we shall see what those oaths are worth."

The cold winds battered Jaime as he stood atop the Wall as the sun began to rise, staring out into the northern distance. He couldn't detect any movement from the Haunted Forest, an occurrence that was a constant ever since the relocation of the Wildlings, but the thoughts of what was actually out there kept the Kingslayer's eyes vigilant.

Behind him he heard the crunching of snow underneath heavy footsteps, and without turning he knew it was Victarion Greyjoy. The large man had been sent back from Eastwatch after a supposed disagreement with Cotter Pyke, much to Jaime's happiness. "What news?" He asked when the footsteps came to a halt.

"They're plotting something." Victarion grunted. "I didn't hear much. Hopefully the small one did."

Jaime chuckled mentally, the Greyjoy had been a brother of the Night's Watch for just as long as Jaime had, yet he cared little for names. "I'm sure Pyp is fine."

"They mentioned the deserter King." Victarion explained. "Know where he is."

"That's no secret, but he's well defended." Jaime pointed out, praying that Mance stayed vigilant. More footsteps came then, and Jaime finally turned away from his watch and saw Grenn and Pyp, young men that had been members of the Night's Watch for longer than even he had. "Brothers." He greeted.

"It's soon." Pyp said, fear in his voice. "I heard the whole thing, they didn't spot me."

"They didn't spot you 'cause you shoved yourself in a big pot." Grenn snorted. Pyp just elbowed the large ranger.

Jaime didn't have time for their back and forth. "Tell me what happened." He commanded.

Pyp nodded and began his tale. "Thorne met with the other leaders and they mentioned that King Stannis didn't care so they needed to go ahead with it, and they kept pointing at the map. They know patrol routes, numbers. They know everything."

Victarion swore, kicking some snow off the edge of the Wall. "Fuck, how have they done so much without us knowing?"

"Thorne is Lord Commander, there's many things he won't share with anyone, let alone us." Jaime responded.

"They plan on taking out the patrols in four days' time." Pyp explained. "Then they'll wait for Mance to come investigate and kill him, then move in with the rest of the weapons Noye built for the others."

Jaime groaned into his hand as he rubbed his temples in exasperation. "He'll doom us all." He muttered. "We have to stop him."

"How?" Grenn asked. "He's got the whole fucking leadership."

"Not all of us." Jaime said sternly. "Not me." He thought for a moment. "Pyp, you and Grenn head to Rimegate tonight. It's full of Northmen who joined to stop the Walkers, they'll aid us. Speak to nobody but Whoresbane Umber. Take the Wall path."

Grenn and Pyp both nodded, and the larger of the pair began moving, Pyp however stayed still for a moment. "What will you do?"

"I still have allies inside Castle Black." Jaime explained. "It's time for everyone to pick a side. Go, the quicker you get there, the sooner we can have the Rimegate forces."

"Aye, Ser Jaime." Pyp nodded again, and soon he and Grenn were walking briskly to the east.

"We're doing it then?" Victarion asked with a devilish grin.

"We have to." Jaime replied darkly. "If Mance Rayder dies, then who knows what the rest of the Wildlings will do. Save him and at least the living has a chance."

Every morning Torrhen seemed to be awakened before dawn by the same dream of the Night King stabbing him in the stomach, and every morning he rose out of bed without waking his wife and looked out the window, always becoming impressed at the achievements of the North in building the fortress that was Moat Cailin. To calm himself, Torrhen would always take a walk around the curtain wall before he broke his fast, looking down on the marshlands to the east and west as well as the slow stream of men that would be travelling to the castle with various supplies from both the North and the South. After his walk he would be joined by Mira and Asher for their breakfasts in the main hall before the day's work began.

The morning that the raven arrived to explain about the South's new war, Torrhen felt a rage build up within him that he had not felt in a long time, he flung his chair to the side and felt his fists clench.

"Maester, please take Asher for his lessons." Mira said sternly, not taking her eyes off of Torrhen. Pylos did exactly as he was asked, escorting the young Stark away, leaving Mira and Torrhen alone in the large room. "In front of your son." She scolded.

"This could ruin everything." Torrhen spat angrily, still holding the raven message. Mira walked up to him and placed her hand on his arm, gently running it down to his own hand and encouraging it open, taking the parchment and reading it.

"You weren't to know." She explained. "How could you? You're not all knowing, Torrhen."

Torrhen took a deep breathe, closing his eyes to calm himself down. "What was the point, if everything we have worked for these last years is undone because of Euron Greyjoy?"

"He will be but an ink stain in the history books." Mira told him gently. "He has no allies on the mainland and he has the entire south bearing down on him, including Jon." She reached around and hugged her husband tightly. "This won't doom us, Tor."

"It might." He whispered. "I won't lose again, Mira. I can't."

Mira looked deep into his grey eyes and leant up to press a kiss to his lips before pulling away. "You didn't lose last time, you saved everyone, and you will do again. I believe that truly."

Torrhen sighed. "I dream of it often." He admitted for the first time. "Ever since you told me…" His hands went down to her belly, where the child growing inside was starting to be able to noticeably kick. "I just worry."

Mira scoffed, but held Torrhen tightly. "You don't need to worry about us. We'll be far away."

Torrhen shook his head as he left her embrace, walking over to his Lord's chair, an Ironwood throne carved in such a way that when he sat down the shape of a single Direwolf's head loomed over him, an intimidating sight for anybody that came to petition him. He placed his hand on the arm rest. "I think of Cregan often, of how I wasn't there for him." He told Mira. "I don't want that to be the case with our children."

"It won't." Mira said firmly. "Because this time, you are more prepared than ever before. This time, the entirety of Westeros will be beside you as you stand firm in death's way. This time, you choose the battleground." Mira walked over to him and sat brazenly in his seat, staring at him intently. "This time, the Gods themselves have chosen you as their champion."

Torrhen rolled his eyes. "They've hardly done that…"

"Every action they've taken has been for your benefit." She interrupted him. "Trust in them, and trust in yourself." She placed her hand on his arm again. "We will live long and happy lives this time, I can feel it."

Torrhen smiled and kissed her gently on the top of her head. "I hope you're right, my love." He said hopefully. "And I hope Jon and Dany can deal with this cursed squid rebellion quickly, we can't afford many casualties."

There was a simplicity to life on Dragonstone that Jon found eerily similar to his time at Winterfell. The weather may have been slightly warmer and the smell of fish a lot more prominent, but for the most part it was a peaceful existence, a big change from his life over the last few years.

He spent a lot of his time either in the Dragonglass caves or in the Chamber of the Painted Table, ensuring that the Seven Kingdoms were getting their share of the obsidian to forge into weapons and then making his own plans for imaginary battles with the dead, trying to plan and counter plan for every outcome. That is what he was doing at the moment that Daenerys walked in with a raven scroll from King's Landing. He had just moved a dragon carving to Harrenhal when he heard his wife's footsteps enter the room. He turned to greet her with a smile, but the look on her face was one of silent rage. "What is it?" Jon asked.

Dany slammed down the raven message. "Trouble." She said sternly. She moved her hand and allowed Jon to pick up the letter and read it.

"King Stannis wishes for us to rally the islands and join the Royal Fleet." He commented on the letter. "Euron Greyjoy has besieged Oldtown."

"We must stop him." Dany told him through clenched teeth.

Jon nodded, moving to take Dany's hands in his own. "We will." He promised. "He's alone, and we have the might of Westeros behind us, fresh men and women ready to defend the mainland."

Daenerys looked happier at that. "You're right, before… we had just fought the Great War and had so few soldiers. This time we are fresh, and he has no Cersei Lannister to back him as well as no Qyburn to build him weapons." Jon was unnerved at Dany's grin, but she had told him all about her fear of Qyburn's scorpions. "He will burn."

"He will." Jon nodded, still unused to the obsession with fire that his paternal family had been known for. "We can prove to Stannis we meant what we told him at Moat Cailin and rid ourselves of a major problem in the process."

Dany was still grinning. "Maester!" She called, and the balding man who had been picked to serve the new Targaryen Dragonstone appeared in the doorway. "Call the banners. Tell them to ready their ships and to gather off the coast of Dragonstone. And ensure that the dragons are well fed."

"At once, My Lady." The Maester bowed his head low and walked off to see to his duties. Dany nodded her head in approval at her own orders and gently ran her fingers over the ruby embedded in the pommel of Dark Sister, eagerly imagining the blade embedded in the neck of Euron Greyjoy.

As dusk fell on Castle Black on the night everything was due to change, Jaime stayed in the shadows as he watched two men in black ride out of the gates towards the South, boasting loudly about a girl from Mole' Town. He rolled his eyes, but as soon as the gates were shut again he got to work, rousing the men of the West and the other trustworthy brothers of Castle Black. The night shift had been altered so that it was Jaime and his men that were going about the important business in the castle, and so the men went about their duties until a horn blast came from the south.

"OPEN THE GATES!" A voice cried out, and the gates creaked open, to reveal a bloody Victarion Greyjoy.

"GET OUT HERE THORNE, YOU FUCKING TRAITOR!" The Greyjoy boomed, echoing around the castle. Jaime kept to the sides, eager to see this play out.

Greyjoy's shout had awoken the rest of the castle, and quickly enough the Lord Commander's chambers opened to reveal an angry looking Thorne. "What is the meaning of this?" He asked angrily as he came down the steps to the ground.

"You have some nerve." Victarion snarled as he closed in on Thorne. "Tell everyone what you've done, what you plan to do!"

"You better explain now, Greyjoy, or I'll make sure you get very friendly with the Ice Cells again." Thorne growled back.

Victarion smirked as he stood a few feet away from the Lord Commander. "I'd like to see you try." He said darkly, before he threw down the severed heads of Bowen Marsh and Othell Yarwyck. "The scum tried to put your plot to murder Mance Rayder into action."

"You murdered your superiors." Thorne bit back angrily, not noticing the cage being lowered from the top of the Wall. "Looks like I'll get to do what the Stark pup never had the balls for, fetch me a block!"

Jaime stepped in at that moment. "I think not." He called loudly as he made his way over to the pair. "The first accusations are against you, Lord Commander."

"What are you doing, Kingslayer." Thorne asked through gritted teeth."

Jaime walked closer to Thorne, before stopping inches away and patting him on the shoulder. "Exposing you, Thorne." He muttered calmly. "As we talk your chambers are being searched, and I am sure we'll find your plans to rid the Wildlings of its leadership."

"I shouldn't be surprised that you would turn traitor again." Thorne growled.

The cage doors swung open, and out stepped a large, white haired and bearded man with the look of thunder on his face, Grenn and Pyp beside him and a dozen other large Northmen dressed in black, all with their hands on their weapons. "You're the fucking traitor, Thorne!" Hother Umber bellowed. "I hate the fucking Wildlings more than any fucker here, and yet I'll still fight with them against the true threat because otherwise we're all doomed!"

"They are the true threat!" Thorne spat out. "We've fought them for thousands of years! They are our enemies!"

"And now they aren't!" Jaime exclaimed loudly. "The true threat is the dead! You think that by killing the Wildlings your saving the realm? You're dooming it!"

"I am still Lord Commander." Thorne growled. "My orders…"

"Oh fuck off." Umber rolled his eyes. "I've seen enough Lord Commanders in my time to know that you piss on the position." He squared up to Thorne and looked down on him, an impressive feat given how tall the knight was. "You've lost."

"Arrest these traitors!" Thorne cried, and swords began to be drawn from both sides of the square off.

As the swords began to be drawn, a tap on the shoulder took Jaime's attention away from the growing tension, and a bunch of documents were handed to Jaime. "Ah, the proof." He smiled jovially, reading through it all. "A conspiracy with a number of castle commanders to fall upon the Wildlings when Mance is dead." He shook his head, tutting. "Lord Commander, I relieve you of your post."

"You can't do that." Thorne laughed bitterly. "Arrest them now!"

Jaime drew his own sword ready to pounce on the Crownlander as black brother squared off against black brother, but his attention was taken when the haunting noise of a horn blew from the top of the Wall. Then it blew again, and finally the horn blew a third time.