Jacob III

The harsh snows near the mountain ranges of the north would have frozen any of the southerners easily, but for Prince Jacob. He held onto the reigns of his horse Misty, whilst the host of his father King Stannis were prowling through the snows of the mountainous regions. The prince knew at the back of his mind how he and his father have a difficult challenge ahead of them.

Jacob wore his gold and black furs, which kept him worm, whilst he rode beside his sworn shield Sorrell Grimm, who had snowflakes on his face and had a grim expression on his face. He couldn't blame the man; he was born and raised in the Reach and wasn't used to such conditions, but the prince was used to it being in the North as a guest of the Starks.

At the back of his mind, Jacob never thought much of the house that used to rule the North. He didn't want to think about it, due to his own guilty feelings of wanting Robb Stark dead for betraying him and for taking the crown of a false king. His own guilty conscience was eating at him, when he heard of what happened to the other Stark children, all pulled apart by war and stolen innocence.

Jacob never deemed to care for anyone other for those he viewed to be allies and nothing more. He was a cold and heartless man, but it was what the war made him. The prince didn't want to be close to his father, not wanting the man to berate him for befriending the bastard Lord Commander, but he didn't care for what his father thought most of the time.

The Prince of the Narrow Sea realised how he wanted to be a leader and less of being his father's favourite soldier, but he was his father's heir at the end. Jacob had led men into battle against the wildlings and at the Blackwater; he wanted another opportunity to lead a host into killing Ironborn.

"Your Grace, you have been quiet the whole journey." Sorrell asked, motioning his horse to be beside the prince he sworn himself to.

"I want to get to the keep and get this done with. Northern lords are difficult to reason with, only because southerners are easily fooled by false promises." Prince Jacob replied. "I have this thirst for blood rather than play the game again."

"You have changed, my prince. War has made a man of you, but not in a good way."

"What do you mean, ser?"

"I have seen you on the field, you looked to enjoy killing, Your Grace. I saw the thirst and hunger in your eyes to keep on killing even though the battle was over."

"I didn't know what happened to me. I wanted to secure the victory for father, after foolishly getting myself kidnapped after the Blackwater."

"You shouldn't be hard on yourself, Your Grace. You may be a man, but you are still young. You haven't experienced life the way most men have."

"What do you know of war, Grimm? You are only a sailor in Oldtown." Prince Jacob said bitterly.

"I was there, when Randyll Tarly defeated your uncle at Ashford, the only loyalist victor in the war. One of my cousins died for that victory, but one of my other cousins, the heir to Greyshield wanted the Reach forces at the Trident, but the Fat Flower wasted time with that failed siege which cost the royalists the war."

"My father told me about the siege when I was a young lad. He told me of how the Mace Tyrell and Paxter Redwyne were laying siege to the banquet table in the command tent, while he ate boot leather, rats, horses and dogs."

"Your father maybe the King Westeros needs in order for the realm to heal; he may not be the king people want, but the realm needs a stable king. A man and not a child to rule the Seven Kingdoms."

"You are a bold man, a southerner from a family of Tyrell loyalists to say such a thing. It seems serving me has redeemed you in the eyes of the gods. To give your service to the rightful king and not the pretenders to my father's throne."

"You are determined, my prince. Do what you can to give your father the throne. He must listen to your counsel and not those of the disloyal northerners, who allowed oathbreakers to rule the North."

"I didn't know you had such harsh opinions on them, it does come with your southron pride and all."

"Where did you hear such a thing, Your Grace?"

"Lady Olenna, ser. When I was young boy, she took me under her wing and taught me everything I knew about the game of thrones and how people were. She said southerners are prideful because they live in a warmer climate, have the better refined ladies and the south is closer to the throne."

"If any of those savage men come near you with an axe or anything that looks like a weapon, should I cut them down." Sorrell asked.

"No, we are guests and it will be insulting to point your sword at them. My father needs the clansmen to fight for him, and to help us oust the Ironborn from the northern strongholds." Prince Jacob replied.

"I only serve you, my prince. I do not hold any loyalty towards your father, being a prig and a man without any niceties at all. I will happily sacrifice my life for you, as it is you I vowed to serve and protect as your sworn shield."

Prince Jacob found it hard to understand the man, who had sworn himself to protect him. Sorrell Grimm was not a simple man; he may be highborn, but didn't live the life a traditional noble man lived in the south. He was a sailor and did things to earn his keep, even though he could have served his lord cousin as captain of his household guard, but he wanted to forge his own path in the world.

The young man didn't understand his sworn shield, because of the difference in lifestyle. Jacob may have not been the rightful heir of Storm's End, but he still lived a life of a privileged nobleman, being the nephew of a king and being born into one of the great houses of Westeros.

Prince Jacob gently stroked the mane of his horse; he had Misty since he was a child and would never leave her, even though she came back for him when he was on the ground at the battle beneath the Wall. Being with Sorrell gave Jacob some form of freedom to express opinions; his father would consider to be dishonourable and foolish in his own pragmatic and logical mind.

The prince and his sworn shield could see the sights of a keep in the distance. Prince Jacob didn't look at his father, not wanting his eyes to be on his stern, kingly father. He thought he put all his internal issues behind him, but they were still lingering inside him. All of those issues stemmed from his father's inability to change his blunt and harsh personality, as a way of getting allies for his cause for the Iron Throne. His father never listens to sense and reason, but chooses to listen to a red priestess, who is feeding him false hope with her magic and lips full of lies and broken promises.

Prince Jacob and Sorrell were closer together, as it was the latter man's duty as his shield to protect him from any form of harm. The prince didn't believe northerners were foolish enough to make an attempt on his life, but some of the northerners sided with the Boltons and Freys, which made this journey even more perilous. From Jon's knowledge, the clansmen of the North have been loyal to the Starks for centuries and are the sort of clans, who would like to spill the blood of Roose Bolton.

The keep had the flags waving in the distance. The prince could see three wooden buckets, brown on blue within a bordure of grey and white checks. Jacob learned of how the House Wull, was the most powerful of all the clans, and how most of the other chiefs would reconvene in Wull's keep and host a feast celebrating long and achieved peace between all the clans. Long ago, most of these clans were fighting each other, but now were allied with each other against their Ironborn and wilding enemies further in the North and the West of the North.

The prince rode with his sworn shield, just a few horses behind his own father. Jacob didn't want his father and his blunt nature ruining this potential meeting with the chief clansmen. He had the responsibly to make sure none of the mountain clan warriors had a good reason to kill them all.

There were a lot of men standing around the entrance of the keep, most of them adorned heavy furs and had helms, like the ones Ironborn warriors would wear. Some of the helms could be war tokens from their dead reeving enemies. The men would have either big two-handed greatswords behind them or would have axes. They were all in ragged skins in darker shades of brown and grey, and studded leathers to keep them warm under their armour. Prince Jacob was intimidated, by such men who looked to be tough and strong; the only place in the south for big strong warriors were the Stormlands; it was how his Uncle Robert was strong enough to fight three battles in a single day, even when traitors like the Conningtons disobeyed their liege in favour of a prince, who stole away another man's betrothed, and still kept fighting the war after the defeat by Randyll Tarly at Ashford.

The prince unmounted his horse, and was followed by Sorrell behind him with his sword. The rugged men glared at him, knowing he was no northerner, but a southern boy with a scar across his left cheek. The Grimm knight looked around, looking to detect a threat to kill in service of Prince Jacob, but the prince gave the knight a stern warning. He didn't want bloodshed, whether it was because of Sorrell's eagerness to kill for him or his own father's abysmal ways of respecting northern traditions.

Prince Jacob looked at his father, in the flamed crown upon his head. Underneath the weight of the crown, the prince knew his sire better than any man, even more than Ser Davos. His father was a man of honour, a just man who would follow the law and a man, a man willing to do his duty as the rightful king.

The young man pulled off his hood; the men with axes were not bothered by his scars, but most of them have seen war and know what war scars looked like. His long black hair had the grey streaks of the dye left in his hair by the kindly maester of House Mullendore. Jacob liked it; it made him more of a fearsome man than the boy, of five and ten willing to fight a war bigger than himself at the time.

Prince Jacob didn't know what to expect, with Sorrell standing by his side. The northern clansmen could agree to an alliance with him and his father against the Ironborn or it could all end in bloodshed.

The king and the prince were brought into the Lord's Solar; it had the flags of House Wull on the walls. Prince Jacob thought having a bucket as a house sigil was strange, but he would never say it out loud, being a guest in the keep of the Wulls and not wanting to insult them. There were two men, who commanded fear and respect amongst the men, being larger and having weapons on them.

One of the men had a large belly, but he was no fatter than Uncle Robert on his last days. The man had a great ginger beard that put his own father's one to shame. Jacob knew the man to be Hugo "Big Bucket" Wull, the clansmen with the most men in his army and was a hard-headed northman.

The other of the two was a stout and gruff man with gnarled, red-knuckled hands as big as Uncle Robert's Warhammer. This one made his father Stannis uncomfortable, being a staunch northman, who had fought against Ironborn and wildlings. This man was Lord Torghen Flint, but was called the Old Flint amongst his men and by the other clansmen of the north.

"It has been centuries, since we clansfolk have last seen a king in these parts." Lord Wull said, in a gruff tone.

"My lords, my father and I have come a long distance, journeying from the Wall to ask for aid in liberating northern strongholds in the hands of Ironborn and Bolton scum. My father and I are southerners and will be welcomed by the assistance of experienced fighters such as yourselves." Prince Jacob said.

"My relations have seen your face in the North before, you were a guest of the Ned and his clan before his friend the jolly stag king became his guest." Lord Torghen replied.

"My lords what my son is trying to say is how some of the northmen have betrayed their lieges, and by rights should be punished for it. The Lord Commander of the Watch said there are no truer men loyal to the Starks than those of the mountain clans." King Stannis said, in a hardened tone.

"The last time you were in the north, you were a boy, a stripling of five and ten. And now you come to us a man with war wounds on your face. It seems your own fellow southorns cannot recognise your face, if they did not know your name."

"The war scars you see on my face, chief clansmen are two years of war on me. I tend to fight alongside my father to free the North and make Bolton and his Frey friends bleed for their dishonour upon the northmen and the rivermen, who died in violation of guest right." Prince Jacob said, in a louder tone. He didn't want to seem soft and meek in front of men, larger than himself. His voice had to be bigger for the clansmen to take him seriously, as a man and an equal among them.

"The boy speaks true, Old Flint. If what he says is true, then we would be foolish to pass upon an opportunity to slaughter the Boltons and throw the reavers back into the sea. You have steel in you, boy, being a southerner and being used to our cold; you killed those savage wildlings with your own sword, and kicked one in the face." Lord Wull said.

"I am no boy. I am a man grown, and I have seen men die in front of me. I have seen things only storytellers tell scared children in the middle of the night. I know you have lost men to the Boltons and the Freys at that wedding, but I have lost much in the war. My uncles Robert and Renly are dead. I want to make sure they didn't die in vain or their memories were lost."

Prince Jacob could feel his father's piercing glare at him. He didn't want to look, all because of the fear of turning into the boy of five and ten, who wanted to do anything to please his father. The prince was a man grown, and he had to make his own decisions. He was to be king after his father and rule the Seven Kingdoms. The young man didn't want to be king in truth, ruling was hard and he already saw what it did to Uncle Robert. It made him a shadow of the man he once was; a leader of men in war and a great warrior in battle. Ruling turned a great warrior into a fat man, who wanted to drink and whore himself into an early grave.

He didn't want to suffer the same fate, of having his strings pulled by various people, who were not going to act on his or the kingdom's interests, but to fulfil their own selfish ambitions and to kill him when his use to the capitol vultures was over.

Prince Jacob was equally as unpopular as his father, all due to the same harsh and hardened traits inherited from father to son. He didn't know if his eventual wife will even tolerate him, let alone learn to love him because of his unappealing qualities. Marriage was a cage to him; he saw how unhappy his own parents were, they were only living shadows and didn't love each other much.

"My lords, my son didn't mean to be unclothed. He was raised better than to talk back at lords. My heir is usually well mannered, with southorn courtesies bred in him. The Lord Commander tells me how the clansmen are great fighters and are the best group of men able to assist in pushing the Ironborn out of Deepwood Motte." King Stannis intervened, his glare never left Jacob having done something wrong in his eyes.

"Your son is spirited, southorn king. You should be fortunate to have him in these rough times. He is unlike any southorn we have met. Your boy speaks true, the Iron reeving cunts have stayed in the North far too long and it's time for them to be thrown back to where they came from." Lord Torghen exclaimed, with his clansmen cheering for their lord.

Prince Jacob breathed a sigh of relief. The clansmen believed him, and even his father was astounded by his proclamation. The young man didn't expect them to listen him, being a southerner and a worshipper of a religion different than them. The prince didn't know these men well, but he was proud to be in the presence of experienced warriors, who have survived many battles and wars.

His father King Stannis's glare lessened; due to wanting to curry favour with Old Flint and Lord Wull.

"We shall be grateful for the aid in our campaign to free Deepwood Motte. The Ironborn stationed are weakened, their craven lord is dead and only a small force stands. Only loyal northmen, such as yourselves have considered our offer in removing them and some of the others have turned on their fellow northmen in need." Prince Jacob said, in a hardened tone of voice.

The cheering and loud shouting from the clansmen made Sorrell nervous, by his twitching fingers and unpleasant stare at most of the men with axes and greatswords. Prince Jacob understood the Reachman wanting to do his duty and protect him, but this wasn't the time or place for bloodshed.

The prince only thought of his eventual marriage once and ignored his other thoughts on them. It was difficult because Jacob didn't grow up with any examples of healthy and respectable marriages. His Uncle Robert and Cersei had a poisonous relationship and the unhappy relationship between his own parents Stannis and Selyse made his skin crawl, of somehow failing his wife before he met her.

Prince Jacob stood by Sorrell; he was the only man in the solar not be to stranger to him, unlike his own father was. King Stannis stood firm and uncompromising; he was not a man for celebration, but having the clansmen of the North on their side will help greatly in their campaign through the North.