31

Chapter 31 – The Dragon and the Stag

The Narrow Sea, Westeros…

Passing the isle of Dragonstone, Jon could not help but be chilled by the sight of the intimidating fortress. The fact that it already had the flag of House Targaryen flying in the wind saved him from having to visit it but he knew that as the ancestral home of his house after Valyria had been destroyed he would need to visit it at some point, his own heir would one day rule it. The feel of Margaery's soft hand on his shoulder brought a small measure of comfort however.

"We are almost home." She said with excitement in her voice, glad to finally set foot on Westerosi shores again. Her time in Essos had been thrilling but the chance to finally set foot on familiar soil was a welcome relief. Jon however did not share her excitement and said so.

"I have never been south of the Neck in Westeros at least. I have never even seen Kings Landing before." He told her simply as his dread over assuming the Iron Throne increased. He was no longer afraid of it he thought, that was not what was occupying his mind. He in private thought that the iron throne was cursed, that it corrupted and ruined whoever sat upon it, his father's family provided enough examples of that to last several lifetimes and what had become of Robert Baratheon only compounded this. Was he only going to continue this trend? He honestly asked himself genuinely worried that he might, Margaery as if picking up on his thoughts took a gentle hold of his hand and said in a warm voice meant to reassure him.

"Whatever we find there, we can change it. Make it the way we want it to be, together." She added a slight blush coming to her cheeks as she felt his strong arm wrap itself around her waist and pull her closer.

"We will." Jon said in agreement doing his best to silence his concerns, despite the feeling deep inside that something was going to go wrong. Margaery rested her head on his shoulder, herself taking comfort from Jon's solid and strong form.

The Eyrie, the Vale…

The day started late for Hadrian and Shaena, all the magic they had used in their battle with the walkers had left them exhausted and in fact they slept over an entire day. When they woke they were sure plenty of filthy rumours were now floating around the Eyrie, hushed discussions around fireplaces and tables about how he and Shaena had fucked each other so hard they had slept for a day to recover. It brought a mischievous smile to both his and Shaena's faces as they got dressed, but that smile disappeared as Hadrian caught sight of the letters that had been left on the top of the nearby dresser. He walked over and saw a brief note, written in the scrawl of Oberyn Martell, a quick read immediately bright an angry frown to his face, something that Shaena picked up on.

"What is it?" She asked her own bright smile now having vanished as she picked up on his mood. Hadrian crunched the note in his hand and told her.

"The Martells and Tyrells marched home yesterday while we were sleeping." Hadrian said angrily, it was more than just not being told though. If the warning from the Three-Eyed Raven was true then they were facing a civil war in the North and Riverlands and he had no rockets left and only twenty five thousand men to fight it with. While that would hopefully be enough the men had been marching a long time and faced a few battles, supplies were low and the men wanted to go home. He would need reinforcements and fresh supplies.

"I will write to the Westerlands to arrange for ten thousand men and fresh consignment of rockets to be brought up from Castamere. I should be able to meet them on the border between the Riverlands and Westerlands." He told her, wondering how long that would take to organise such a thing and march his own troops down there but Shaena was proving to be very distracting as she was completely topless while wearing skin tight leather breeches. The images created all sorts of perverse images in his head but Shaena showed no modesty or interest in covering herself up. She walked over to him and ran her silk like hand across his rough face nearly sending a shiver through his entire body, to one place in particular.

"We will meet with them. Where you go, I go." She said firmly as he took a hold of her hand and brought it to his lips where he kissed her wrist. It was her turn to shudder then but it did not last long as he picked her up and put her on the desk and kissed her hard and hot which she eagerly returned.

-x-

A couple of hours later, Shaena was lying asleep and sated on the bed while Hadrian took the time to send his messages. Hedwig had already left with his message to the Westerlands as she was his fastest and most reliable messenger and now he was looking through the rest of the pile of letters while Raga feasted on some stag in the corner. He saw nothing that reacquired his immediate attention except for one letter addressed to him from his distant cousin Cerenna at Riverrun. His eyes carefully read each word, wondering what she had caused her to write to him:

My Dearest Cousin,

It is with desperation that I write to you and seek your advice. I fear that there will soon be an uprising against my husband, ever since the death of his father Lord Hoster Tully there has been growing discontent within our lands. Many feel that the Riverlands should be granted more of a presence in the new empire and are greedy for new lands and titles. Many old rivalries seem to have re-emerged with a strong vengeance and my husband seems content to allow the situation to grow ever more unbalanced. Due to my not being a daughter of the Riverlands there is little respect for me amongst the Riverlords and few answer my letters.

What can I do cousin? I have tried to reason with Edmure but to no avail and my own attempts to make allies have proven…less than successful. I worry that a plot may already be underway to dethrone myself and my husband from our position.

Hoping to hear from you as soon as humanly possible…

Cerenna Tully, the lady of Riverrun and Lady Paramount of the Riverlands. Forever a Daughter of House Lannister.

Frowning at Cerenna's idiot husband and knowing for certain that Cerenna was right in her concerns he wrote a letter to her immediately telling her to rally what bannermen she could at Riverrun while he looked into the matter. At least he thought however many came would reveal just who would support and more importantly remain loyal to House Tully and give him an idea of just how many houses his sister had raised against them.

Cersei, Hadrian's thoughts turned dark as he considered the new mess that his 'dearly beloved' sister had created for him to deal with. If she had not been his sibling in this world he would have killed her long ago, a mercy that he had increasingly come to regret of late and would remedy if he got the chance. His eyes travelled to Crimson Night as it lay on the desk.

But then his eyes caught on to something that was laying on the desk next to him, the Resurrection Stone. Why it seemed so attractive to him at that moment was something that he could not understand and later would not be able to explain. His hand slowly grasped it and fixing the name of the person he wanted to speak too in his mind he turned the ring over three times in his hand.

Looking up from his desk, he smiled as the person he wanted to speak to appeared out of thin air. He was not wearing the Edwardian style clothes or wizarding robes that he had last seen him in, instead he was wearing crude leather and plate armour with silver direwolf holding on his cloak which had an image of a direwolf sewn on with a large great sword at his side. The man's face was bearded and his hair longer than Hadrian remembered but there was still the warm and friendly smirk on his face.

"Sirius." Hadrian said, his memories of the man coming back in a flash making him smile.

"Harry, not sure that blond hair suits you. Thought about some dye? Maybe a nice shade of black?" Sirius asked him cheekily which only made Hadrian/Harry smile wider. Sirius started laughing and Harry was laughing with him. "It is good to see you pup." Sirius said with his eyes twinkling.

"You too Sirius, I wondered if you came here. When did you arrive? I looked for you but no sign." Harry asked and Sirius just laughed.

"Oh you missed me by about eight thousand years, still I had an impact." Sirius said with a smirk once he had finished laughing. "I left a rather big landmark."

The combination of the date Sirius mentioned and the mention of leaving a 'rather big landmark' clued Harry in what Sirius was implying.

"No way." Harry said with his eyes wide. Sirius make a theatrical bow and said grandly.

"Bran the Builder at your service. First King of Winter, founder of House Stark, builder of Winterfell, The Wall, Storm's End and Hightower." He looked up and saw disbelief on Harry's face which made him take slight offense. "Hey it is true. I was always rather good at runes."

"Legends say that you had help from the Children of the Forest and giants." Harry said with an eyebrow raised which made Sirius look a bit sheepish.

"Alright I did get some help from them in building the Wall but all the rest I did myself. And the house I started is still going strong today so how cool is that?" He asked with puppy dog eyes which made Harry laugh again.

Kings Landing, the Crownlands…

Tyrion stood in the port with the rest of the Small Council and Tommen, who looked ready to throw himself into the water as the ships carrying the new king came into view. Their sails black with the three headed red dragon seemed to grow more intimidating as they got closer, Tyrion having never met a Targaryen before but having been taught of their dangerous reputation his entire life was counting solely on Varys to have played him fair rather than false, something that did not make him feel any better about the situation. Bronn and Ser Gwayne did their best to look nonchalant but inside were deeply concerned over what might happen if the Targaryen took offense with their employer. The roar that suddenly came from the sky did not ease their worries either. Everyone looked up and saw the source of the sound and were paralyzed in sheer disbelief as the large form of a dragon circled overhead. They had all heard the tales of the dragons that House Targaryen had somehow gained control of but to actually see them brought a very public gulp to all their throats. The sheer size of the great beast cast a very long shadow and the closer it got, the bigger it seemed to become.

They were so caught up in watching the dragon they almost missed the ship coming into port, all of them straightened their backs as the ship drew up alongside the dock and threw ropes to the men already on shore who tied them down to secure the ship in place. The gangplank lowered and a group of Unsullied disembarked first, their eyes completely devoid of emotion, followed closely by Obara Sand, Ser Barristan Selmy and the rest of the Targaryen Kingsguard before the man they had all been waiting for finally came ashore.

The ladies swooned at the sight of him, tall, muscular with black hair hanging to his shoulders in loose curls. His face was masculine with his grey eyes being almost hypnotic in how they drew you in to their depths. Those who had met Lord Eddard Stark could see that the North had left its mark on the boy but those who had known or at least seen Rhaegar Targaryen could see him in the young man too.

Tyrion kneeled as did all the people on dock while the young man who was to be their king stood there and nodded. Eyes turned to Tommen who gratefully took the crown off his head and offered it to Jon.

"I Tommen Lannister hereby surrender my crown and throne to its rightful owner, his grace King Jon of House Targaryen, long may he reign."

"Long may he reign." The others echoed along the dock. Jon despite feeling like getting back on the ship held his nerve and spoke to Tommen.

"Tommen Lannister, your father Robert might have usurped the crown, but you are not to blame for his crimes against my family. I bid you return to Casterly Rock and remain there for the foreseeable future." Jon said, his voice low and gravelly causing the ladies present to blush however they quickly stifled this as soon as they possibly could as Lady Margaery Tyrell descended down the plank and took a possessive hold on Jon's arm, her eyes glaring daggers at any who dared to look at her man wrong. Her smile was more like that of a shark and terrified many into averting their eyes.

"Your grace." Tyrion said taking a step forward and bowed his head as he studied the man who was to be king and the young woman who was to be their queen. Jon Targaryen looked naïve and even scared but not like he was going to run away or cower and was regarding them all with veiled suspicion, plus points in his favour Tyrion thought. He was brave enough to stand here and take her heritage and role seriously, but was wise enough not to simply take everyone at their word. The sharp and intelligent eyes of Lady Margaery also eased his worries somewhat, if she was even half as good as her grandmother was at playing the game then she would do well here Tyrion thought. "It is my pleasure to welcome you to Kings Landing, I am Lord Tyrion Lannister, the acting Hand of the King. It is my honour and privilege to escort you to the Red Keep."

"Very well Lord Tyrion, I hope to meet with you and the rest of the Small Council to discuss the future of the nation." Jon said, his voice strong and low. Tyrion nodded and turned as they walked to the waiting horses and carriages.

Both Jon and Margaery looked out as they moved through the city with the commonfolk all lining the streets, eager to catch sight of their new king. They seemed please Jon thought gratefully but given the nature of people who knew how long that was going to last. He smiled as best as he could but refrained from waving. Still as he looked out across the city he could not help but admire the design and colour of the city. It had been redeveloped and expanded over the generations and had become one of the greatest cities in the world. Margaery likewise found the city much to her liking, already in her mind planning to make trips to win over the commonfolk and establish her own powerbase within the city. They looked reasonably well fed but they had a variety of needs she could address to earn their favour.

They arrived too soon at the Red Keep and the imposing red fortress sent a shiver down both Margaery and Jon's spines as they felt rather than remembered its brutal history. The maesters that had educated them had imparted every detail of its bloody history and as they both marshalled their courage and entered the stronghold the weight upon them seemed to increase but that was nothing compared to the pressure that they felt as soon as they entered the throne room.

Seeing the Iron Throne for the first time was terrifying for Jon, it looked as gruesome and imposing as he had dreamed and he nearly gulped as he saw it for the first time, suddenly not sure if he was ready to sit upon it. The weight of history and all those who had gone before him seemed to be suffocating him for a moment, Margaery's soft hand briefly grasped his before he took the final steps…walked up the small stairs until he finally came face to face with the Iron Throne and with a last steadying breath sat upon it.

It was rather anti-climactic in a way, whatever he had been expecting did not match the reality. It was surprising warm, maybe some echo of the dragon fire that had supposedly been used in its construction and despite being somewhat uncomfortable it was no different than sitting in any other chair. But that was before he looked down and across the room and saw for the first time how it put you above everyone else and he felt a brief rush of power.

So he thought utterly sober, this is what power the other kings felt. I have to learn lessons from their mistakes or I am doomed to repeat them he thought smiling as he saw Margaery and Sam smiling up at him. Ser Barristan too was smiling and a brief tear could be seen sliding down his cheek. It was Sam however who said the first words as he came up and stood to Jon's side as he placed the crown of Aegon the Conqueror on Jon's head.

"In the Light of the Seven and in the glory of the Old Gods, I name Jon of House Targaryen the King of the Seven Kingdoms, Emperor of the Westerosi Empire and all of its territories. King of the Andals, the First men and the Rhoynar. Long may he reign." Sam finished, placing the crown upon Jon's head as he did.

"Long may he reign." Everyone echoed around the room with Margaery, Sam and Ser Barristan being some of the loudest. Jon had never experienced a feeling like it as soon as they said those words, it was like he had just closed one chapter of his life while another one, a stranger and more exotic one was about to begin.

With that there was only one thing left to do.

"Lord Tyrion I do not suppose you know where we can find a godwood around here? I have a woman I wish to marry right now. I hoped you might officiate." Jon said leaving Margaery wide-eyed along with everyone else in the room. The laugh inside was enough to keep the smile on his face until after the wedding were on his first night with his wife, he found another reason to smile.

The Twins, the Riverlands…

Cersei was slipping her wine, glad to at last have decent wine to ease her nerves. She had just received word that her son had been dethroned by a Targaryen bastard! A Bastard by the whore Lyanna Stark no less. The memory of the long dead bitch from the savage and pathetic north was enough to send her anger soaring once again.

The amount of wine spilt against the walls and floors from broken cups were a testament to her earlier rage, but not as much as the two dead girls of House Frey that had brought her the news, their throats slit and their worthless blood mixing with the ruined wine.

Everything she had worked for was now dust at her feet she raged, her temper getting the better of her again and her hand sent a pitcher of wine clear across the room. Her plans completely ruined she thought with rage coursing through her entire body so bad it was shaking. Tommen dethroned and kept at Casterly Rock and her brothers seemed to have made a deal with the Targaryens to save their necks. It was the final sign of cowardice that she needed to see to know that the chicken would be a better banner for House Lannister from this moment on. Not the roaring lion, no she thought with bitterness she was the only real lion left in her family now. And now her brothers had stolen the throne away from her!

And it was up to her to restore her house to greatness, once all her brothers and all their children were dead she would claim her rightful position and rule as she wished. As was her right!

Even if she had to claim the throne of Westeros herself.

-x-

Unknown to Cersei however who was so blinded by her arrogance and anger that she failed to notice what was going on under her own nose at the Twins. In each of the two castles an individual Frey had begun plotting, gathering other Freys around them as they schemed to gain power.

In the northern castle, it was Walder Rivers that held court. He was the oldest of the late Walder Frey's bastards and had a fierce reputation as a warrior and a butcher. His prowess had earnt him great influence within his house, his new wife Janyce who had been wed to Edwyn Frey before his demise at the hands of Aegon Frey and the Lannisters sat at his side and the girl had already been completely cowed by her husband. She looked down at the floor wondering if her new husband had bitten off more than he could chew but feared him far too much to voice such thoughts.

In the southern castle it was Lothar Frey, also known as Lame Lothar that had begun his plot. A fat man with a pointed beard he had served as steward for the Twins and had received very little for his service in return. Just as much of a schemer as his late father Walder Frey he now recently widowed after Cersei had killed his wife Leonella Lefford. He too had decided that he was only going to look out for himself and his two daughters from now on and had gathered support to that end.

The Great Sept, Kings Landing…

The sky was clear and the sun was bright overhead, many saw it as a perfect day especially with the coronation of the new King who already inspired whispers in the streets about how much better he was than Tommen. There was a genuine hope and anticipation of a better future with good and noble king on the throne with smart counsellors running the empire at last. The fact that the son of Tywin Lannister and the grandson of Aerys Targaryen were now working together caused some mirth and worry in the city in equal amounts given what had happened the last time House Lannister and House Targaryen had worked together. Some worried that history might repeat itself but many saw this partnership as a good sign that things were finally looking up for the kingdom.

However these were not the thoughts of the High Sparrow, the new king barely registered in his mind beyond what it meant to his cause. He had briefly held the hope that the new king would make the Seven the national religion again and abolish the practice of the barbaric Old Gods once and for all. Maybe he might be the new Baelor the Blessed who had been in the High Sparrow's mind the greatest king the Seven Kingdoms had ever had.

Only to discover to his shock and dismay that the young man that now sat in the throne was his worst nightmare. A Stark and a Targaryen together; the blood of the First Men and Valyria ran in his veins not that of the blessed Andals although he now claimed to be their king. Even if that could be overlooked he had shown no interest in being shown the light of the Seven, content to allow the Old Gods to continue to corrupt and deliver the souls of the people into the Seven Hells. He had not even had the decency to wed here in the Great Sept but instead amongst the trees like an animal. Now he and his new queen were rutting like those animals no doubt the High Sparrow thought in disgust, just like the whore that had supposedly wed the imp lord and produced their demon spawn. He had said as much to his followers.

With that chance for the restoration of the one true faith gone, the High Sparrow felt the despair welling inside him. His entire campaign to shine the light of the Seven on the people had all but unravelled. So many followers lost, his reputation and that of his entire religion disgraced it was almost as if the gods had been against him as no matter where he turned the daggers proverbial and otherwise of Tyrion Lannister seemed to be waiting for him. Oh yes he thought bitterly he knew the little demon was the one behind his downfall, there were too many things happening by chance in his enemies favour for it to be natural. Servants of the Seven being caught for crimes that were directly opposed to the doctrine of their faith whether they were innocent or guilty, oh yes it was clear that the drunken dwarf was responsible for all the misfortune that had come upon him but he seemed powerless against the imp and all his corruption. Where the people had once looked at him with reverence or happiness for all the work he had done in the city now they mocked and jeered at him. It seemed the corruption had infested every part of the city and now the servants of the Seven were slowly being ground into the dirt.

He felt the failure of the campaign deeply in his heart. That he had failed the Seven was such a horrific burden to bear but it seemed he was destined to fail, he would keep fighting the High Sparrow vowed to himself regaining his belief. The Seven that were one would not allow this world and him to slide into the abyss, they would send him a sign of how to turn this situation around.

A shadow fell across the gleaming floor of the sept as if in answer to his prayers, he turned around and saw an older man about his age looking around rather shiftily as if he was afraid of being watched or followed. This brought a brief frown to the High Sparrow's face but it was quickly replaced by a friendly smile as he walked over to greet the man.

"Good morrow to you good ser. Have you come to pay your respects to the Seven?" High Sparrow asked with hope that it was a recruit to his campaign, he had lost enough of them recently so the need for new ones was critical. The man took another scared look around before speaking.

"Perhaps, but I find myself it desperate need of your help High Sparrow. The Lannisters want to kill me." The mysterious old man said, the High Sparrow took a moment to study his fear and judged his emotions to be genuine but he did have to ask himself though. Why would the Lannisters want a random man dead? When he asked the man that same question the man carefully produced a far of green liquid from his pack.

"I am the last of the pyromancers, all of my order is dead except for myself at the order of Hadrian Lannister and his dwarf brother Tyrion. The Lannisters want me dead for the knowledge I possess, knowledge of how to make wildfire which I am willing to pass on to you as long as you protect me from the Lannisters." The Mystery man said desperately, passing the jar of wildfire to the High Sparrow.

The High Sparrow looked carefully at the small jar. This was what he needed to turn the tide of the campaign he thought now starting to feel excited, a weapon that there was no defence against. One that could burn the Lannisters and their corruption to dust beneath the seven pointed star.

The Light of the Seven would shine after all. In green fire the High Sparrow thought maliciously.

The Dreadfort, the North…

Ramsay Bolton, although he had yet to gain the name was furious as he marched down the kennels of his family's ancestral castle. His father had berated him and smacked him in full view of the other lords. It was humiliation that he had learned to endure but still one that sickened him to the core. He hoped that an hour or two with his 'pets' might ease his anger. How was it his fault that Lord Cerwyn had tried to escape and been made an example of? His father would have done the same if he had any real backbone Ramsay thought with venom.

Only for his eyes to widen in surprise when he finally caught sight of the cages. His hounds were licking puddles of blood off the floor that flowed from each cage. Inside each of their prisoners was laying there with eyes as blank as those of a doll, ignoring his hounds he rushed over to each cage and checked over all of the prisoners. Each of them had slit their wrists somehow, some were still breathing but the pool of blood around them was proof that they were not long for this world. His panic and anger building as he went from cage to cage to find exactly the same in each one only discovering one prisoner still in condition enough to talk, Catelyn Stark.

The lady of Winterfell sat in her cage with skin so pale it was nearly white, a large pool of blood around her and the knife in her hands evidence enough of what she had done without the blood flowing from her cut wrists. When she saw his face she gave a weak laugh as her eyes grew hazy and said with pride.

"The bastard of the Dreadfort fails again, now our families are free to act against you and your shitbag of a father and we are free of this hell that you have created. A failure, you are nothing but a bastard, a disgusting failure and whatever piece of paper Stannis Baratheon signs that is all you will ever be. You can try and hide our deaths all you want but the truth will come out. Family…Duty…Honour. Something you will never understand." She said, her last words being the words of her birth house the Tullys. Her eyes dimmed and went glassy as she passed from this world.

Ramsay was silent for a moment as he absorbed what had just happened. The moment passed quickly however as he yelled out in rage, filled with anger and hatred built up over the course of his entire life. He did not even hesitate as he had his hounds feast on the corpses of the dead hostages. The scale of what had just happened hitting him with the force of a battering ram, nearly all their hostages that were forcing the compliance of the houses under them were dead. Sure they had a few still tucked away at Barrow Hall and the Rills but most of their hold over their vassals had just evaporated before their eyes. If any of them suspected even for a moment that their loved ones were dead then they would turn on House Bolton in a heartbeat. They would have to be very careful and hold this incident as close to their chests as possible, if someone were to discover their secret it would spell the end for them he thought with anger as his hounds torn at the corpses.

His father would not be pleased. Ramsay thought with anger.

Moat Cailin, the North…

When Bran, Rickon, Wynafryrd and Lyanna first caught a glimpse of the rebuilt castle, they were all deeply impressed. The rotten remains of the previous wooden keep had been torn down and the three remaining towers with it. In its place was a slightly smaller keep made of stone, built in the style of Winterfell with a set of two walls nearly as high. Twenty stone towers lined its double walls just as with the previous version of the castle while a granite keep sat protectively within its confines. Above them from the towers and keep the banners of House Stark flew high in the air.

"Impressive." Ser Brynden said in awe as he looked at the rebuilt fortress, it looked truly formidable and could easily act as the choke point that it once had to keep invaders out of the north and that it was to be his great-nephew's castle he thought filled Brynden with pride. They continued to ride forward until they reached the gates of the castle where three people greeted them.

"My lords and ladies, welcome to Moat Cailin." The elder man said. "I am Lord Howland Reed and it is my pleasure to greet you."

Bran took a moment to study the man that had stood at his father's side against Ser Arthur Dayne, he was shorter than he had imagined but had an air of quiet dignity about him much like his own father. At his side the two teenagers Bran imagined must be his two children, Jojen and Meera. Jojen looked more like a mirror image of his father at a younger age while Meera was taller and had a more traditional Northern look. Were it not for the fact that he had Lyanna at his side Bran might well have developed a crush on her but Rickon with the eyes of a star struck young lad turned to Lord Reed and said simply much like Arya might have done.

"You fought with our father at the Tower of Joy."

The children of Lord Reed just stared in surprise at Rickon for a moment but Lord Reed ended the situation with a slight smile and said.

"I did indeed young lord and I was proud to do so. I only wish the other men that rode with us that day could have returned." Lord Reed looked sadly at the ground for a moment before getting back to business. "The castle is fully garrisoned with many archers ready to defend it from the walls and towers. The cellar is stocked and my men stand ready to defend the Neck from any incursion from the south."

"You have our thanks Lord Reed." Lyanna said, her face grave. "I fear we may be needing it."

White Harbour, the North…

The morning was cold, not uncommon in the north, especially with winter coming upon them. None of the fishermen, merchants, city watch or indeed anyone suspected that this would be anything more than an ordinary day.

The early morning mist did not faze them either, it was not unknown at this time of year but it masked the approach of the ships carrying the flag of the flaming heart with a stag inside that were sailing towards the port city until there was no time left for the people to react. The catapults that been mounted on the decks fired briefly to spread chaos in the city, setting buildings ablaze and crushing people alive. Screams echoed across the entire city as people tried to flee the bombardment and suspected landing, the city watch were caught completely off guard and what units did not flee with the rest of the people could not get to the harbour to repel the landing as the massive crowds blocked their path.

The ships were completely unopposed as they came in to land, disembarking troops rushed ashore catching the fleeing civilians without trouble. Surrounded guard units either surrendered or fought to the death but either way the city fell within half an hour. The banners of the Flayed Man and several others came to the city in the immediate aftermath of the sacking. The civilians of the city actually hoped for a brief moment that House Bolton might have come to free them from the Fire loving fanatics and their puppet king but dismay soon replaced hope as they witnessed Roose Bolton bending the knee to Stannis Baratheon.

Stannis Baratheon and his Red Priests watched hours later as symbols of the Seven burnt alongside the septas and septons that had manned the septs but also as the members of House Manderly burned. Lord Manderly and all his sons died on the pyres while one of his granddaughter's Wylla was confined in the dudgeons of Wolf's Den. The remaining bastards of Robert Baratheon also died in the flames to gain their lord's blessing for this northern campaign.

Melisandre watched as her king and her brothers and sisters in faith offered up as many sacrifices as possible to the one true god and normally she would have felt elation at such a thing but something was holding her back. Some feeling that stirred deep inside her soul and made her scars hurt worse than ever, she rubbed them subconsciously but it provided no relief. Trying her best to probe the future to convince herself that she was worrying about nothing, she cast her mind forward trying to gain a vision of the future. When it finally came however her breath caught in her throat.

The banner of her king and the Azor Ahai, dangling bloody and on fire in the mouths of a lion and a wolf as they tore it apart.

Harrenhall, the Riverlands…

The Freys marched upon House Whent without warning or mercy. Lady Whent had no time to react and call her own fighting men to defend her lands as her ruined castle was stormed. She was at least granted a swift death by the hand of an idiot Frey and clumsy sword blow.

The Freys spread like a disease full of joy at conquering the ruined caste. Raiding its wine cellar and pocketing anything of value they could find, the war in the Riverlands had begun just as it had in the North.

The Red Keep, Kings Landing…

Jon was asleep in his bed, tired from the previous night's activities when he was awoken by Lord Varys knocking urgently on his door.

"Your grace, Stannis Baratheon has invaded the North! He has landed at White Harbour and sacked the city." Varys told him through the door. Instantly the sleep cleared from his eyes at the mention of Stannis Baratheon attacking his homeland and he got out of bed immediately while issuing his orders through the door.

"Call the banners of the Crownlands, I will need at least ten thousand men and ships to carry them. I will not stand for those Red Priests and their accursed king causing trouble in the world any longer." Jon's voice was low and full of anger as he began to get dressed. Margaery looked up with mussed up hair still half asleep herself, her slim and beautiful form was hidden only by the sheets.

"Must you get up so early?" Margaery said her voice drowsy and had not heard Varys. He came over heaving just pulled his breeches on and kissed her on the mouth gently.

"If our country is to be secure than I have to go and end Stannis Baratheon." Jon said as he resumed getting dressed. "Besides Stannis has invaded the North. My family are in danger and I need to help them. While I am gone I need you to gain the support of the people in the city, like you did in Meereen. I love you." Pulling on the last of his clothes he came over and kissed her again before leaving the room and a confused and sleepy Margaery behind him.

The Vale…

While Jon mustered a force and set sail from Kings Landing, Hadrian and his Lannister army marched from the Eyrie towards the border with the Riverlands. At his side was Sandor Clegane, looking forward to an actual fight and Ser Arthur Dayne who had accompanied them for Shaena's sake. Her own fighting men had been left to hold Eagle's Nest and the Redfort but his men should be more than enough.

His infantry marched in formation with his cavalry while overhead, two dragons soared through the skies. On the back of one of them Shaena Targaryen, her smile wide as she and her beasts went to war.