Jacob IV

"I can't believe I lost again." Ser Luthor Estermont yelled, slamming his fist onto the table, as the young knight lost another game of cyvasse. The man from Greenstone was an easy opponent to beat, since he was known to lose at the game in the Stormlands.

Prince Jacob smiled gleefully at yet another win again his cousin. It was a great way to spend time with the cousin that rebelled against his own house. His time was mostly spent on keeping order within the encampment and keeping an eye on the king's prize hostage. As a man in the middle of war, it was great to find comradery among men he could relate to. The prince sensed himself belonging with the northmen, and them giving that respect back to him. He was still processing the talk he had with his father days ago. It was something Jacob dreaded at the back of his mind, his father was not the most emotive of people. He realised that talking made things better between them, after the tension started to build after they had left Wull's Keep and during the war.

The young man chose to ignore the existence of Asha Greyjoy, all because he was focused on killing Boltons and Freys, not on a woman condemned by his father. He hated how he had to spend hours of the day watching her, alongside the She-Bear. She was obviously missing her lovers trapped in Deepwood Motte, as he could tell by the forlorn look on her face. Jacob never gave a damn, especially when the men brought whores with them to bed after the battles of Highpoint and Deepwood Motte.

As a young man, Jacob was patience in practicing abstinence and refrained from drinking any kind of wine ever. It was a way for him to stay strong, and not give into the temptations many men indulged themselves in. The prince was growing bored, and Luthor was not much company other than beating him at a game of cyvasse again. It was hard not having any friends around him, because everyone else obeyed him mindlessly, and it was starting to grate Jacob's nerves a lot.

As the king's son, he did whatever he wanted, until his father Stannis needed him or if the Karstark delegation arrived at the watchtower. He was not looking forward to seeing these snivelling men again. The prince would rather fight the battle now, than to deal with the worst lot from a proud northern house. Lord Arnolf, or otherwise known as the blemish on House Karstark and his equally chinless sons Arthor, Cregan and Harald. The old man was petty and the most disreputable northerner he has ever met. What made things even worse was that they were selling off Lord Rickard's daughter to him for an alliance that was only fraudulent as Arnolf's sense of decency towards anyone around him.

Jacob was beginning to suffer from the boredom staying in war camps presented. There was nothing to entertain him, apart from antagonising the Greyjoy woman. It was fun poking the kraken at least twice a day. It was all a game to Asha, who would call him greenlander or the sweet green prince, even though he was anything but sweet. That word was mostly used to describe men like Loras Tyrell and his Uncle Renly, but not the only son of the harshest man in the Seven Kingdoms.

Most of his father's soldiers and captains were King's Men and had the bigger numbers amongst them. They would pray to the Seven at every rationed meal and when they go to bed at night. This destitute place did not even have a Godswood for the northerners to pray to the Old Gods whenever they could, but they made do with what they brought with them from the west of the northern mountains. The northerners and the King's Men shared their dislike for the Queen's Men, whom were the minority amongst his father's soldiers, which made the arguments a lot harder to defuse between the two sides.

"I'm surprised you are not married yet, cousin. I thought with your riverlander looks, you would get a wife before me." Jacob asked.

"I'm only a knight, Jake. My father is not even the heir to Greenstone, but that title belongs cousin Aemon and the children he has." Luthor replied.

"This is miserable. Can Roose Bolton come out and fight? I'm bored just sitting here." The prince growled, folding his arms across his chest.

"Tell me about the Karstark girl, your father is forcing you to marry."

"I met her in Winterfell once, Luthor and I'm not sure if I want to marry into House Karstark. I would, to save the girl from whomever of Roose Bolton's allies Arnolf will sell her towards. She lost her father to Robb Stark beheading him, her brothers died in the Riverlands and she will be marrying a southerner, who worships the Andal religion."

"Did your plot with the onion knight work out or did your father put a stop to it?"

"I do not know, Luthor. He only spoke about of it days ago and nothing more. My father maybe a stubborn man, but he is not stupid. He sees the Manderlys make better allies than the Karstarks in the long term. They have the coin and many of horse and knights to support us, what do the Karstarks have to offer, other than Lord Rickard's grief-stricken daughter."

"You are a cold man, Jake. No wonder why you are still unmarried."

"I don't care. I would rather be a spinster for the rest of my life than marry a northerner. I should listen to my mother's idea, wait until the war is over and settle down to a southern bride of her choice, it's better than being stuck with the Karstark girl forever."

"Before the war started, your wedding would have been a great event. With Robert as king and wanting to make a big deal of everything for his only nephew. Your father would insist you being wed in Storm's End, to respect the ancestors and all, but Renly would be more for Highgarden, with his Tyrell affiliations." Luthor said, with a smile on his face.

"Who would have been the unfortunate bride in that fantasy cousin? No one would be willing to marry someone, who is not the heir of Storm's End nor whom lived on a desolate island of dragon statues and poor prospects."

"Some Reachman's daughter for sure. Those greedy lords would not resist an opportunity to get closer to the royal family."

"There is nothing more to dwell on. We are in the middle of the worse snowstorm in centuries and we are going to battle two of the worst houses in the Seven Kingdoms."

Luthor pulled a face that looked like a scowl. "You are such a stiff, Jake. Can't even lighten up without your father around?"

The prince folded his arms. He hated it when anyone would point out his very visible flaws right in his face. Jacob was not the kind of person, who would be nice to anyone, even though some people did not deserve it at all. The world nowadays was a cruel place for people, who were not as ruthless as Tywin Lannister or ambitious as Mace Tyrell. It was the honourable fools, who died in the last four years, and the deaths of Ned Stark, Jon Arryn, Robb Stark and Oberyn Martell made Jacob more cautious of his moves and to think things through a lot more. It was careful thinking that led to the reclamation of the Forrester lands from the hands of the grubby Whitehills and it led him to his victory in the battle of the Wolfswood.

Prince Jacob was not a man for songs, but he tried to be for his sister's sake. Shireen was just a child princess, who was thrust into a role she did not wish for. The war showed him the heroes in the fictional songs were just fables and fantasies. Being fostered in the Reach made Jacob immune to the grandeur of everything around him. Luthor was the only ally he had in this desolate war camp, as Sorrell was busy being thrust in a leadership position amongst the King's Men, who were misguided after the departure of their senior members after the freeing of Edric Storm from Melisandre's grasp.

"I'm happy for him in truth. Sorrell deserves such praise, after everything he went through for me. He is still around and I'm thankful he is here. The knight will never be what Davos is for me, and it's okay because Davos will return."

The prince and his cousin were amused of how House Frey's remaining heirs will be girls and small boys, because of all the men will be killed when the war ended. In Jacob's mind, the Freys were just as bad as the Boltons, but the two houses were welcome to each other. He was bored of waiting for the biggest battle of his life to come faster than he had to wait for Lord Arnolf's Karstark reinforcements to come through for his father with the men and the food stores for them.

The young man left the tent. He was too bored even think about spending anyone time with Luthor; it drove him mad to even play another cyvasse game with his cousin any longer. He was desperate for a spark of excitement on this day. It was too boring, and he was close to gutting a man for no reason other than perverse boredom.

It was not that Jacob hated Luthor, but he was grateful for someone to talk to other than Sorrell Grimm. He needed to do something with himself, maybe even train for the battle so he does not get slow when it comes to the actual fighting on the field. His swordplay needed work and years of training with Randyll Tarly taught him to be aware of his surroundings and to ever miss a step.

The prince had to leave his father's side because of boredom and he was in council with the northern lords and the Mormonts. It grated him to be dismissed from a council meeting. He would never miss one, since his father began the war, but there must have been a reason for it. Jacob got the idea to start poking at Asha Greyjoy for the fun or it. She proved good conversation, when others around him were too boring and were too afraid to even humour him.

The cold didn't bother him because he was used to it. The snowstorm did not let up in the slightest. Jacob was heavily cloaked in two layers of furs to keep him comfortable, and for him to function in the armour beneath the furs. The idea of marrying a northerner was not so well received by Jacob's queen mother Selyse, because she wanted him to settle down to a southorn bride of her choice.

He understood where his mother was coming from. Queen Selyse did not begrudge her only son in worshipping the faith she abandoned from her girlhood. Jacob's belief in the Seven kept the King's Men and the remaining southerners loyal to his father, and maybe being the pious man, he was could have an advantage when it came to convincing the Faith itself to depose the Lannisters and Tyrells from the throne.

The prince was strolling through the protected encampment; his eye was caught on men from the Umber ranks passing him by. He wanted to be alone, away from being surrounded by people constantly, during the day. The heir of House Baratheon frowned, seeing a burning ember in the distance in front of him. He was used to the Queen's Men making their nightfires, but with their current situation of being in a place so cold, no one knew where the sun was in the day.

Jacob trekked through however long miles of snow, he could to get a step closer to the burning ember in the distance. His nose was numb to the snowflakes falling upon his face. He brushed the snow from his clothes and his hair. The petulant prince had grown up and was unrecognisable from the boy of five and ten who went to war with his father. There were no mirrors for him to see what he looked like as a man, but he was curious to know. Luthor complimented his growing beard, even though it had been trimmed by the clansmen, as a show of gratitude. It was growing past his chin in inches, but the facial hair covered his jawline. The prince took note of his chipped and filthy fingernails, which were pink, due to the severity of the cold.

The man knew he changed on the inside, as well as the outside. His heart hardened, from battle after battle. From the blood spilt from his blade, and from manuvering in court politics to eliminate any potential threats to him and his father's successes. Jacob was happy to have half the credit for the battle victories, but it made him grit his teeth when his father would have more of the credit. He was the one, who was on the frontlines, leading the hosts through one bloody battle after another.

Jacob was closer to the glowing ember, but it was not light. Not light as in the light that looked like the beacon from the grand Hightower. It was something brighter than that, as it looked to be another nightfire being lit up. The fire was something to behold in the middle of snowstorm, and it was known for the nightfires to go out without sufficient firewood. He had no interest in watching foolish men worship at the feet of a demon god, and not even the wise Crone could guide these lost souls now.

The prince was closer to the fire, and he heard the curling scream enter his ears. He did not care who the Queen's Men were going to use for their sacrifice fodder, but at least it wasn't Asha Greyjoy. The iron bitch needed to be kept alive, so his father Stannis could show her off in chains to the northern lords, after the reclamation of Winterfell. He found it more difficult to decipher his father because the two separated almost every day, since they got to this encampment. It was better for both father and son not to be around each other so much, it could cause unwanted tension of being stuck together all the time.

The Wall was cold and miserable, but the worst thing was being stuck with his father in a dreary black castle every day, until his father planned the northern war effort. The prince exhaled out a breath that he could see. Jacob had grown so accustomed to the cold that he almost considered himself to be a northerner in a previous life. Looking at the burning nightfire could be the only moment of freedom Jacob had left before he was forced to look upon the hideousness of Arnolf Karstark and his equally ugly brood.

The prince had to keep going for as long as he could. There was no way he was going to give up, it was not in his Baratheon nature just to sit there and wait for death to come. He was going to charge towards the stranger when he sees him on the battlefield. The idea of death excited Jacob, and he did not dread it as much. As an adolescent, he was afraid of dying because there was so much he wanted to do before his death. He was too young, to have so much responsibility placed on his shoulders, but as his father's only son, he had no choice. He was the heir to a dying house, and he was the key to House Baratheon surviving after the war ended.

"I am the rightful heir to House Baratheon and the throne. And I will not be afraid of anything at all. I had to stomach the brutality of war at five and ten, and I had to do what was needed to be done. I killed my first man at thirteen and it was a bandit near the Gold Road. It was the first time I had seen Randyll Tarly ever smile with that grim look of his. He was prouder of me than he was of his own sons."

The blaze of the nightfire was right in his sight. His nose wrinkled at the smell radiating from the flames, as it's putrid scent was of wood burning, and there was a lot of broken crates used by the Queen's Men to make their flame burn brighter. Jacob had seen plenty of nightfires, especially seeing his mother praying to the red god, alongside the men, who named themselves after her.

At corner of his eye, the prince caught a glimpse at the She-Bear and Greyjoy leech standing as far they could from the sight of the Queen's Men. Were they planning on burning her, even though his father denied them their thirst for her blood? It would be a shame thought, not have the satisfaction of not dying in battle and only be used as fodder by demon worshipping fanatics, who were only converted this religion because they were in love with the red priestess from Asshai.

Prince Jacob stared hawk-eyed on the few he knew. The ringleader Godry Farring with his big puffing chest; his right-hand Clayton Suggs, who cruelty to him was like wine to a drunkard; the cowardly Corliss Penny and Robin Peasebury, the one with no mind of his own. The prince sniffed the air to catch the putrid odour of rotting flesh, as it was prominent. It must have been from the men, whom died from the cold. He did not know the ones, who died, but he knew the ones, who were still living and were in his face. Jacob trekked further to get closer to the rising flames of the nightfire; he would not mind if the Queen's Men were cooking what was left over of the food reserves into one big crockpot to share amongst them.

"The Lord of Light shall protect us from darkness and halt the storm." Ser Godry said, in a tone that was of a praying man, but a fanatic.

The prince observed on his left to see that a few of the Queen's Men had recognised him from the northmen they were feuding with. Jacob had to stop this before the two side began killing each other, and he did not see any King's Men in sight. He tried to be civil with these men, but he could not stand by whilst innocent people were subjected to their torment, all in the name of their god.

"Your Grace, we are glad you arrived. Reason with these savage tree worshippers." Lord Robin said, in a tone that reminded him vaguely of Joffrey's callous way of talking to people.

"Why? What you done to insult the northerners, who have come down from their homes to support us in the war?" The prince asked, not trusting a word the Pea Lord said.

"The snow is the wroth of the old gods, it seems these southrons are ignorant to the north's ways." Artos Flint said, and he looked to be close to at least breaking Lord Robin's arm for that insult.

"The old gods are watching us all. Red Rahloo means nothing in these parts. You fools will only ignite the wroth of the old gods." Hugo Wull replied.

"You northmen and your demon trees brought this snow upon us. The Lord of Light will save us." Corliss said.

"Your god will doom all of us. The King's Men, the northerners and my father most of all. As your future king, I demand to know why you are lighting such a big nightfire. It's obvious the wood is not for your nightly prayers. You a lot are wasting good firewood that could have lasted for at least four days."

"Your Grace, we discovered a sickening plot. Four men of House Peasebury were caught red handed, eating the flesh of the men, who have died coming south with us. The dead man, they were eating was of House Fell, and we caught them shoving his fingers into their mouths. There were others like them, but they felt the flames of R'hllor tonight." Ser Godry admitted.

The prince placed a hand over his mouth, trying to stop himself from wrenching. "Gods be good, were these men apprehended for their crimes."

"Yes, Your Grace, and they will be prepared for sacrifice in due time." The Penny man said, agreeing with Farring's testimony.

Prince Jacob was sickened of what he heard. He heard stories of cannibalism from Robb and Jon years ago, as it was about a small island invisible to the north. It was Skagos, a place where horned horses would wonder about and where the flesh eaters lived. As a southern boy, Jacob never believed these depraved people were real, until now. A dead man was feasted upon by starving men of a house that neither southorns or northerners respected at all. Whom would respect men, who bored the sigil of a small green pea? It was worse than the Tyrell rose, which looked awfully boring on its own without the thorns. It was stomach wrenching to even imagine it, the poor man of House Fell with nothing to his name will now be known as the man, who was eaten by the Queen's Men.

He never liked the Queen's Men's routine burnings, but there was a special exception he could make for them. Give them what they want for now, and they would leave the thought of burning Asha Greyjoy alone. The prince could not be seen watching from a considerable distance, it would raise suspicion between the northerners and the southerners. He was already being forced to marry the Karstark girl, someone he hardly knew and only saw her once in Winterfell.

At the back of his mind, Prince Jacob knew the food stores had run out. The leftover rations were all but small bed crumbs, enough to feed the ravens lurking about. As the prince, he was fortunate to eat a good meal with his father, but for lesser men, they were lucky to even taste cooked meat.

He hated to miss Storm's End and Renly, but the only decent memory he had of his traitor uncle was how Renly would spoil him out of spite towards his father. As the last son born of Baratheon colouring, his uncles made sure he was loved and provided for. He may have been born into meagre prospects on Dragonstone, but he was treated as if he was the heir to Storm's End, and not any son Renly would have had. Jacob wished his relationship with Renly was not full of poison, and they would have gotten along otherwise. It was too late for any sorry sympathies. He and his father were the last trueborn Baratheon men alive. He was the heir of a great house close to collapsing, like the Targaryen dynasty, whose only surviving heir was a young woman on the other side of the world.

The men being punished had resorted to eating their own dead, after the food had run out. It was disgusting to think about it, but he understood the reason why. It did not excuse them for eating a fellow man at war. They had to die for their crimes, as it would be payment for how their victim had no burial and was how in the stomachs of the men, who had eaten him. The brutality of what men would do to survive dawned on him, as the worst thing Jacob had ever done was tell his father off, and the disgraced of House Peasebury had become cannibals to survive the torturous snowstorm.

"Ser Clayton, bring in the sacrifices." Ser Godry commanded, solidifying his status as the now ringleader of the Queen's Men, with Uncle Axell at the Wall protecting Jacob's mother and sister. The man was the bigger of them all and was the one the others feared.

The prince witnessed the four flesh-eaters brought before a curious audience. Ser Clayton was a man of little subtlety and liked the taste of cruelty on his tongue. The wrists of the cannibals were tied behind their backs with leather strips. The men lowered their heads, as they were disgraced in front of the Queen's Men and the northmen. Prince Jacob caught sight of the youngest of them weeping, as if he did not know what he was being punished for.

It was a pitiful sight to see. All four men were as thin as wood sticks and short of stature, compared to the puffing chest of Ser Godry. His initial thought of the flesh-eaters was to condemn them as monsters for what they have done, however seeing them tied and subjected to Ser Clayton's torment made them look more like victims of unforgiving circumstances. There were King's Men in attendance, but not to watch the man-eaters be punished, as they were there to protect the prince, if the Queen's Men or the northmen decide to target him in their forever anger in their difference of faith.

Prince Jacob had a strong stomach, as he has grown up now. He would be lying to say he was not afraid. As the prince, he was lucky to be protected and sheltered from such horrific punishment, but the Queen's Men were displaying this all for him.

The oldest of the man-eaters must be their ringleader. He was alone in his resistance to his conduct by the Queen's Men, who pushed him along with their spears. The man let out of blood curdling laugh, and then confessed how he laughed when Ser Godry's cousin died and described in disgusting detail of how he and his men wished they had eaten the king's dead squire. The man suffered a blow from Ser Corliss's spear, which drove the men to his knees, but it did not keep him quiet all, as it made him more defiant against the Queen's Men.

"The cock's the choicest part of all, crisped up on the spit. A fat little sausage to devour." The man continued, as it made Jacob's stomach queasy of hearing such gruesome detail of how a man desired eating another man's manhood and was not at all ashamed of it. "Fuck all you red god fanatics, all of you to the seven hells." The man said, in a darkened laughter.

The prince's eyes widened, when the flesh-eater turned to stare at him, after he finished insulting the others. "And you boy, watching these red fanatics burn us alive. What sort of king will you be, when your father dies. You will be one of them, when they get done twisting your mind and turning into a raving fanatic like their leader Axell Florent." The prince could not show weakness in front of these men, and not even the Greyjoy woman and Alysane Mormont, who looked to be miserable of having to watch this display.

The man began crawling towards the prince's direction. Jacob's heart was racing, and his fingers were shaking. He did not know what to do in this moment, as he was numbing himself to what was going on around him. The prince took a few steps back, but the men clad in the red and white sigil of House Follard unleashed their swords in order to protect the prince from the crawling madman.

Ser Clayton opened the man's throat in front of them all. The blood seeping from the man's throat splattered the ground to stain the white snows in red. At least, Ser Clayton got his fill of blood for the day and Jacob was surprised to be saved by a knight he had no love for. The Queen's Men may be an annoyance, but when it came down to it, they would do their duty in protecting him from danger.

The rush of blood through the prince's body tempered, and he caught his eye on the weeping man, who was sobbing even more. It was too pitiful to look at, but the man knew what he was being punished for and the consequences of his crime. The prince's Follard knights were alert and did not take any chances with anyone. The sobbing man's physique was gruesome to see. He was so thin, as his internal organs and bones were visible to the eyes. Prince Jacob wanted to get closer, but he knew the Follard knights were on guard to shield him. He wondered where Sorrell was, as the man was his sworn shield and was supposed to protect him. It seemed Ser Clayton did Sorrell's duty for him by opening the defiant man's throat for cussing at him.

"Please…..Your Grace…..he was dead. He was dead…so hungry we were." The weeping man was begging and looked his eyes at the prince. This moment would traumatise Jacob more than the aftermath of any battle would.

The four flesh-eaters were chained together, two on each stake and the Queen's Men were staking split logs and broken sticks upon their feet. The most devout of R'hllor's followers finished wasting good logs that could have lasted more than two days. The pile of wood sticks was doused with lamp oil, which was in short supply from the portion given to them by Sybelle Glover. Jacob hated to see valuable supply items go to waste on such fruitless things, especially when they were struggling to maintain the small food rations they had and the fish from the frozen lakes were empty. The Queen's Men were on borrowed time, with the snows falling harder and it would spell doom for the firewood they were using to punish the flesh-eaters.

"Where is the king?" Ser Corliss asked.

Prince Jacob never thought of his father's whereabouts; he knew his father Stannis never came out of the watchtower, unless he needed to. It had been four days, since Bryen Farring, one of his father's squires scummed to the cold and died. The funeral pyre was short and to the point, seeing the boy's body being burned did not move his father at all. The prince knew, since then his father locked himself in the watchtower, and would not talk to anyone, unless it was him, Ser Richard or Luthor. Jacob had known his father had experienced seeing people die in war before, but it was not new to him because he saw men die in the Greyjoy Rebellion, and saw men die in the wildfire explosion trick by the Imp.

For the prince, it was the first time it had been just him and his father. Without the niggling sight of Melisandre costing about. As they got further south, it was better his father was further away from the corruption the Red Woman had done to him. It had been Jacob's plot, to use the opportunity of war to separate his father from Melisandre. He would have his father back, and not see the sullen shadow from Castle Black anymore.

"The king has arrived." A dry toned voice said, with the prince turning to see Ser Richard standing in a knightly fashion. He was in his quilted doublet, as it was well made for a man of his status. It was in the death head moth symbol of his house. Jacob wished more knights were like Ser Richard, obedient and loyal without a question towards his king.

The prince was astonished to see his father, King Stannis with the queen's man. Behind them, was a face Jacob hoped to never see again. The man sees Arnolf Karstark struggling to keep at his father and Ser Richard's pace, hobbling on his blackthorn cane. He had not known the castellan had arrived so quick. Jacob knew from the night before how Arnolf was bringing his two sons Arthor and Harald, and his three grandsons with him to the table to discuss the arrangements for the alliance and the eventual wedding. The castellan of Karhold was also bringing four hundred spears, two score archers, a dozen mounted lances, a maester, a cage of ravens and only enough provisions to sustain his own forces.

The crooked man before him was gaunt, with his left shoulder taller than his right by a foot. Arnolf had not changed, since Jacob last saw him, and he was the same man, but his eyes were squinter and his yellow teeth would scare the most impressionable of children. The castellan was close to being bald, but only a few white hairs remained on his head. His forked beard was always ragged, as it was in grey and white. The man's sour smiles made Jacob decide Arnolf was one the worst men he had ever met in his life. He made a promise to Jon at the Wall, that he would never allow that man and his horrid brood to sit in Winterfell.

What was a Karstark doing? Watching the Queen's Men burn cannibals alive. Was he curious or was it something he could tell his sons and grandsons about later. The sight of his father made the bound man plead for clemency and for their lives to be spared, but he did not care at all. The prince could sense his father knew he was around and would want him to come to the watchtower after the sacrifice was done. Lord Arnolf and the Karstark retinue were here and it would be rude for the prince to dismiss their company.

The king was rubbing the side of his forehead. "Get on with it, as you may." Jacob knew his father was numb to seeing men burnt alive, but did he know the men being sacrificed to R'hllor were flesh-eaters and one of them tried to attack him.

Ser Godry, the Giantslayer began the first rites of prayer, and for a man, who liked to show off. He was dedicated to the religion Melisandre brought over from her homeland in the east. The man and the rest of the Queen's Men were chanting the words of their prayer towards their god. As someone who opposed R'hllor's religion, Prince Jacob saw a frightening beauty in what these men were doing, they were punishing criminals in the name of their lord, but this time, the punishment was fitting to what the flesh-eaters had done. The Giantslayer's display of passion was foreign to Jacob, who was only used to the man tormenting or killing people, but he had to remain neutral when it came to the petty spats between the Queen's Men and the northmen.

"We thank you for the sun that warms us and pray, you will return it to us, oh, lord that it might light our path to your foes. We thank you for the stars that watch over us by night and pray that you will rip away the veil that hides them, so we might bask in the glory in their sight once more."

Ser Corliss stepped forward with a torch in hand, he used it to spook the captives even more. For someone, as hard-minded as Jacob; he had seen their nightfires many times, but nothing like this because he shielded himself from the reality of R'hllor's sacrifices. As a younger man, Jacob thought of the burnings to be barbaric, and he still did, but his mind has changed through the course of his travels through the north. It was war and there was no time for having second thoughts nor was it the time to start thinking of the days before the war started.

"R'hllor. We give you four evil men. With glad hearts and true, we give them to your cleansing fires, that the darkness in their souls be burned away. Let their vile flesh be seared and blackened, that their spirits might rise free and pure to ascend into the light. Accept their blood, oh lord, and melt the icy chains that bind your servants. Hear their pain, and grand strength to our swords that we might shed the blood of your foes. Accept this sacrifice, and show us the way to Winterfell, and we may vanquish the unbelievers." Ser Godry chanted, and the other queen's men followed him in prayer.

The prayers of the red god were dark in nature, but it was strange to Jacob. These men truly believed what they were doing was righteous. It was a thought to be extended towards the Lady Melisandre, who also believed in her mission to help save the world from the White Walkers.

The man was starting to have a sudden change in perspective and growing up has made him wiser to how his earlier views were of a young boy. Jacob knew why he disliked the Red Woman, and it was because he wanted to save his father from being killed by the Faith for what Melisandre has been poisoning in his mind. As he was further away, he began to understand how the snowstorm in the north a sign of even more dangerous times was to come, and how Melisandre's goals were more for making sure the world survived and finding a saviour to fight the Great Other in the Battle of Dawn.

"Oh, Lord of Light, accept this sacrifice, as the token of our appreciation." The hundred voices of the Queen's Men echoed over the other voices.

The first pyre was lit, and the smoke from the rising flames were spreading. The prisoners began to splutter coughs, and then the flames came out from the shadow of the darkened grey smoke. The fire was spreading rapidly, and both stakes of captives were engulfed in even larger flames. Seeing these men burn was awfully like how Jacob had to witness great-uncle Alester Florent be burned alive for his crimes against his father. It had been an unpleasant experience to witness, a member of his own family be punished this way. He never thought of Lord Alester until now. Seeing these things were bringing back small reminiscences of the past, things Jacob wanted to keep buried and never see in broad daylight again.

The weeping boy from minutes ago, the only one with any sense of sorrow in him was screaming as the flames roasted through his legs. "He was dead, Your Grace. We found him dead…please….we were so hungry." It was unfortunate, as the poor boy should have been put out of his misery, so Jacob could not hear him wailing no more.

The broken shrieks of the burning men rang in the ears of the prince, what was more disturbing was how neutral his father's expression was. He must have been told about what those four men had done and how the Queen's Men could have explained to him in the horrific detail they did to him.

Prince Jacob's stomach began to be queasy again, and he was almost close to losing the meal he had eaten long before. He was more than capable of holding the sick feeling in his stomach at bay. The man had never experienced a full on burning, since Lord Alester's death, but unlike the fallen lord, he had some pity towards the cannibals, for they only did what they had to do to survive with no food rations in sight. The screams of the men roasting to death will in no doubt haunt Jacob for years to come, and that sight will still haunt him when he gets to his father's middle-age and he is the king.

"For the night is dark and full of terrors." Ser Corliss said, and the other Queen's Men followed and repeated the forever recurring line of their religion.

After the dead man, Ser Clayton killed burned. The screaming stopped at a complete silence, and the four flesh-eaters were a pile of ash and bones now. The prince sneezed, due to the dust itching his nose and he did not want to catch a cold in this dreadful storm. He had to be as healthy as he could to fight the war against the Boltons further, and it would do his father any good if Jacob got sick at the wrong time.

At the corner of his eye, Jacob sees his father go back to the empty watchtower and finally go blind from staring into the fires of the hearth again. Arnolf hobbled after him, with Ser Richard giving the aging lord assistance to go towards the longhall, claimed by the captains and minor bannermen to eat their meals and to have somewhere warm to rest in, before they had to go back to their cold, snow feasted tents for the night.

The man was in the watchtower, and it was like a gilded cage. All the good freedom he had over the last six days were gone, and he was stuck in the tower. Jacob had to separate himself from Luthor and Sorrell, because the two men were not of importance in a discussion relating to the marriage and the future prosperity of House Baratheon and House Karstark.

Prince Jacob was sitting on one of the wooden chairs and had his left leg over his right one. He was forced to shave some of his beard growth for the occasion, as he was going to have supper with the Karstarks and his father. A shiver when down his spine, when Jacob entered the watchtower to see the equally hideous sons of Arnolf standing there, hawking at him, as if he was a piece of new jewellery. He hated them all, and maybe marrying Alys might save her from being stuck with these men for the rest of her life.

The prince had to put on his best southern good boy face on and try to be civil with these men until his father had no further use for them. He sat next to his father Stannis on his right side, and the Karstark men were sitting on the opposite side of them. The grandsons of Arnolf were sent away because this discussion was for the eyes of men and not little boys, all was left of them was the crooked lord and his two middle-aged sons, who could be mistaken for cooks and not lower-class members of a proud northern house.

Jacob had a separate plate of food, as he refused to eat any of the food cooked by Karstark servants or drink wine poured by Arnolf or his sons. Seeing the men arrive in the watchtower made Jacob think of where Arnolf's firstborn and heir Cregan was. He knew the hobbling lord had three sons, and yet he only brought two of them south with him. Somebody had to oversee Karhold whilst the other Karstarks were gone.

The prince's father was welcoming of the supper and appeased the most dedicated of his northern allies the best he could. The three Karstarks brought as much as they could south, including food and a considerable amount of wine because Harald was known to be a drunkard, it was known in the North and it was why the man never married at all. The watchtower was warm enough to shield the five men from the freezing cold of what laid outside, but for Jacob it was another reminder of how the battle against the Boltons and Freys will be delayed longer than he would have wanted it to be.

Jacob sensed discomfort within himself, knowing Harrion Karstark was going to be killed because of what these men had done, by declaring fealty to his father. It was even worse thinking about what would happened, if he refused to marry Alys, would he be responsible for her being subjected to gods know what, in the hands of Arnolf and his sons. As a man used to having his freedom, it was sore to be restrained and having to be commanded to marry a girl chosen for him by his father.

"These cretans would have chosen an even worse husband for Alys, most likely from Roose Bolton's northern allies and Frey good family. I'm guilty of refusing the responsibility of being a northern woman's husband, when we do not even worship the same gods. The difference in faith had no baring in Ned Stark's marriage to Catelyn Tully, and maybe the difference in belief might bring us closer together."

The supper was pleasant, as it was better than what Jacob had eaten before. He drunk water, and not the wine provided by Lord Arnolf. The sight of Harald, the third son deep in his wine cups made the old lord raised an eyebrow and twitch his mouth. It seems Arnolf wanted his sons to be on their best behaviours, as they should be honoured to have supper with the king and his heir and should not act the loose drunkards from Karhold.

"Was the roasted meat to your tastes, Your Grace?" Lord Arnolf was the first to speak, in that grating voice that reminded him of that strict septon Jacob had to deal with in Horn Hill as a boy.

"The supper was fine enough, my lord." King Stannis replied, in a drier tone. He did also not touch the wine poured for him by the servant in Arnolf's retinue.

"Travelling all the way south has made this old man weary, but I do what I must to lend my support to you and your son against the Boltons and take back Winterfell."

"I thought you and your sons were here to discuss the marriage alliance, and not the war that is ahead of us, my lord." Prince Jacob interjected, sipping his water cup and was satisfied from the taste having water gave him.

"Of course, it was one of the reasons why I pledged House Karstark to your cause in the north, Your Grace. Harald? Do you have anything to contribute to his discussion?"

The lord's third son Harald was not coherent because of him being drunk, but he was alert enough to hear his father's command. "Our cousin is fortunate to find a good husband, such as yourself, Prince Jacob. Her betrothed being killed in Robb Stark's war was a tragedy indeed, but with death comes new opportunities."

"It's terrible to know Roose Bolton was vying for Alys, due to House Karstark having blood ties to the Starks going back generations. To sell her off to some Whitehill or Frey traitor, and we would not allow such a thing to happen. With Lord Rickard and his sons dead, she is the legitimate heir to Karhold, which could make this marriage more complicated than it seems."

"What are you talking about father? I thought we were going…." The second son Arthor spoke out, with his father hitting him with his blackthorn cane, his brother Harald was amused by the sight of the other brother being disciplined by his father, as a man grown.

"Silence yourself, Arthor. Your tendency to talk too much will have you at your deathbed, sooner rather than later. Such poor conduct in front of His Grace, the king and his son, the prince. You will speak unless you have been spoken to, Arthor, do I make myself clear."

"Yes, father." Arthor said, in a drown out tone. The man kept his mouth shut, as he was nursing the spot where his father had hit him with his cane.

Lord Arnolf crossed his fingers over the ones on his other hand. The man maybe old, but he was no feeble man. He was just like Grand Maester Pycelle and that septon from Horn Hill in that regard. Using his age to make people blind of how much of a morally despicable man he was. The lord was good, and he almost convinced Jacob that he had any genuine regards to his bride's safety.

"We shall have the wedding in Winterfell's godswood, a perfect marriage of the north and the south, just like Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn. It matters not, Your Grace. A son from the prince and Alys's marriage will also be the heir to House Karstark as well as the throne."

"A wedding in the godswood would be a good suggestion, to appease the northern lords, but my son is of the Faith and would not take to marrying near the religious territory of other gods. The southerners in my army and my wife would not take well to it." The king replied.

"I had never taken the difference in religion to be a barrier, Your Grace. We Karstarks are of the old gods, and Lord Rickard would not take well to his daughter being wed in a southorn sept, and not in the eyes of the old gods."

"Lord Rickard is dead, father. What does his thoughts and opinions matter?" Harald said, in an arrogant tone of voice. The man had his arms folded and did not care what he just said made Jacob's father raise his eyebrow and thought the man was just drunk and not making sense of what he said.

"He was related to you and the Lord of Karhold, before Robb Stark took his head. Alys is the only child he has that is free from the Lannisters, unlike her unfortunate last brother, who is being held in Maidenpool."

"And what are you doing to ensure your rightful lord's freedom, Lord Arnolf. I have not heard you doing anything for Lord Harrion at all?" Prince Jacob wondered, and he glared at the old man and his empty-headed sons right in the face.

"The poor boy will be dead one way or the other. Alys is the future of House Karstark, woman or no. A good husband such as yourself will benefit her and our house for years to come. You must see, my prince. How important you are to the survival of our house and your father's house." Lord Arnolf said, and there was a tinge of sincerity coming from his voice, but Jacob doubted it to be true.

"The dowry Lord Rickard prepared for Alys's marriage to the Blackwood boy was fair, and the dowry for this arrangement will be higher than her last betrothal. Your son and yourself are the last surviving men of your house, and only deserve the best from us."

The prince wanted to bust out in laughter, did Lord Arnolf expect him to fall for those finely tuned words of his. It was enough to make an ignorant court lord feel sorry for the old man, but a wiser man knew better, and he was wondering what this man's motive behind was selling Alys off to him and his father. It must be the ultimate lordship of Karhold and all the Karstark land surrounding it, with Lord Harrion a captive of the Lannisters and Alys married off to him. Jacob knew Arnolf wanted to grasp power this way, and for his three sons and grandsons to benefit from it. The man was only a castellan with no rights to the Karstark lands, unless he was still alive by the time a son was born from Jacob and Alys, and that boy would have more rights to Lord Rickard's lands than a chinless castellan.

"The dowry is sufficient enough, but spoils from the Boltons and Freys will be good enough for the wedding to go on in Winterfell. The wedding will not go ahead, unless I have seen the bride and met the girl for myself, alongside my lady wife. The Queen has been looking forward to seeing our only son be married and it might take longer for her and the rest of the Queen's Men to arrive from The Wall."

"A great idea, Your Grace. Using the spoils from our enemies to finance the wedding would be a mutually beneficial plan for both sides, since House Karstark has already pledged a significant amount of coin and resources to your cause." Said Harald, in a duller tone.

"If it's not much, I would like to meet my future wife after the battle with the Boltons and Freys is done, it would be improper if I did not meet the girl I am going to spend the rest of my life with." Prince Jacob asked.

"It will be done, Prince Jacob. It would be an honour to be the man, known for planning the next great northern and southern marriage, in times of war. It will be settled; my eldest son will bring Alys from Karhold to Winterfell after the battle." Lord Arnolf agreed.

"There is also the matter of keeping your end of the deal, my lord. With other northern houses vying my son as a husband for their maiden daughters, it will be prudent for us to keep our alliance a secret until further notice." King Stannis said, in a blunt tone.

"I understand, Your Grace. With the Lannister and Tyrell alliance close to collapsing, and your son being a man grown and unmarried. Other lords like Ryswell and Manderly will circle your son like vultures around prey and will push their daughters and granddaughters onto you."

"Like the prince will marry any of them, since their lords failed to support their rightful king and allowed the Boltons and Freys to tread on our northern rights." Harald sneered.

"Those other lords, my sons will be punished by the king in due time. We shall reap the benefits of such a grand opportunity in front of us. Wouldn't Lord Rickard be proud to finally have his daughter married off to a suitable husband."

Prince Jacob and King Stannis both saw that Arthor did not speak much, after his father hit him with his cane. The man, who brought his young sons south with the rest of the Karstarks was more fool than a man, with his arms folded and did what his father commanded of him, and kept his mouth shut. At the back of Jacob's mind, it seemed that Arthor's outburst told more than what he had heard, was he about to speak on something his father and brother did not want the prince and his father to hear about on the table.

The supper was not great, but it was better than what the soldiers and men outside of the watchtower were having to eat. The prince placed a hand under his chin and leaned his arm on the table. He was bored and wanted this meeting to be over. Jacob was careful to not have his father see his heir clearly tired of the talk between men and dismiss the Karstark lords from the tower. He was not looking forward to marrying Alys, all because this war was the last bastion of freedom he had as a man, before the Baratheon man had to be tied down to a northerner, who did not know him.

The prince caught Harald slipping in another cup of wine, in no doubt also bored of the proceedings and would drink the entire wine stores if he could. As older men, the prince assumed the sons of Arnolf had fought in his uncle's rebellion and had seen real war, where men died, and the stakes were high. It was a fleeting thought that passed through the prince's mind, trying to distract himself from listening to the talks of dowry and the location of the wedding ceremony.

"As a man of the north, my lord. Where is the Turncloak? I heard from one of your grandsons that Bolton's bastard has been flaying him for two years and a half. It's strange how Roose Bolton allows his bastard to have the same privileges as a trueborn son and to practicing something that has been illegal for centuries, as equal to first rights, which is also illegal." The prince said, in a hardened tone.

The prince saw the eyes of Lord Arnolf and his sons widen at the thought of Roose Bolton and his bastard, may be such proud lords were afraid of a man, whose house is known for extreme torture and using knives to peal the skins of their victims. All the north was afraid and did not have the right motivation to rebel against the Bolton usurpers. It was sad to see such proud people be subjugated by cutthroats, who only got their position of power because of the Lannisters and the Red Wedding.

Jacob did not trust the Karstarks in front of them. One of them was too fidgety for his liking, and was the one, who could expose his family in front of the king. Lord Arnolf was trying too hard to impress him, but it seems the prince's father was not as convinced by the aging lord's sentiments. He knew his father was only entertaining them because they were the only house in the north, whom have declared for him openly, whilst other and more wealthier houses cowed behind their castle walls.

"You are a smart man, Prince Jacob. We never expected talks of such a man to come at the table, are we not discussing how to unite our houses together and, not talking about the ironborn turncloak." Lord Arnolf said, in a grating tone. The old man was beginning to get agitated, by the raising of his eyebrow, and how tight he held onto his cane.

"My son is normally intrusive, it's a quality I value in him. If you cannot deal with such a man, then it seems your house will not be marrying into mine at all. Unlike most men, my son is valued and my most important counsellor on my side." King Stannis replied.

"It's good you value your son, Your Grace. Family is highly valued in our house, and we would be honoured to welcome the prince into our family." Harald said, in a more gleeful tone.

"My lords, you are all too kind. It's not every day, high lords show appreciation towards me. Most are afraid of me because of my appearance or how I serve my father loyally and cannot be corrupted like others." Prince Jacob exclaimed.

"It is settled, my lords. Do you and your sons agree to have two ceremonies that honour both the Old Gods and the Seven? I know the southerners of my forces and my good family will be uncomfortable with the idea of my only son marrying in the eyes of the old gods, when he was born in the light of the Seven." The king said, in a grim tone.

"The two ceremonies would be a great way to reunite both faiths together. I'm sure your lady wife, the Queen will be pleased to see what we have to offer to both bride and groom. We are glad you considered our house to marry your son into, because we know Lord Manderly was itching to come to the table first, but his granddaughters are marrying two stunted Freys." Lord Arnolf said, sniggering at the last thing he said.

"You have mistaken me for someone else, my lord. I am not a forgiving man, but I do reward loyal allies for their service to the rightful king. The wedding will take place days after the men have recovered from battle and when the traitor lords have been punished for their treachery."

"I'm pleased to know we have come to a fair arrangement that benefits both sides respectfully, I apologise for the less than behaviour shown by my sons. I expected nothing less from a fool and a drunkard, when their eldest brother is in Karhold protecting his cousin."

The prince thanked the Father, the discussions were over. He did not have to sit in front of these men any longer than he needed to. Jacob was not happy with the idea of being linked to these cretans as good family, but he knew he had to be ready to take on the new challenges of being someone's lord husband, and that day was coming soon. It was strange, the idea of not being an unattached man was going to be a reality and he was going to be responsible for trying to make his wife happy, as opposed to the other Baratheon marriages that have failed in his lifetime.

He did not want his marriage to Alys to be unloving like his parents or poison like his uncle and Cersei, maybe Jacob could break the cycle of three unhappy or short-term marriages in the same generation, and House Baratheon will have a chance of surviving beyond the battle in Winterfell.

The snows outside of the watchtower did not get better by the day. Prince Jacob needed to get away from the snivelling Karstark lords. He wanted them gone, but his father Stannis needed Lord Arnolf's support against the Boltons and Freys in the war. The prince had to act the good southron boy and be polite to these bootlickers, but they offered him Lord Rickard's daughter to wed and bed. He knew the old lord had something to hide, because he hit his middle child Arthor with his cane for talking too much. There was a larger plot that Jacob wanted to discover, but he needed a rest from using his head and wanted to be just a man for the rest of the day.

He was deeply angered by Luthor's decision to go drinking with the King's Men, and not spend time with him. Jacob had not thought of the consequences of his cousin running away from home would have on the members of House Estermont. The lord and his family would be severely punished by the Lannisters for Luthor joining the prince and his father against the Boltons. Jacob did not give two shits about his grandmother's maiden house. They were traitors, who abandoned his father in the war and supported Renly, when they should have supported their rightful king from the beginning.

Jacob did not care if his great-grandfather Lord Gerold had died before the Blackwater. It was the feeble old man, who threw all the Estermont strength behind Renly. It was difficult to decipher all his family members when the war went on. He only had his father Stannis, his mother Selyse and little sister Shireen to think of. The others did not matter because they were all oathbreakers and traitors in the eyes of the law of Westeros and the laws of family as well.

The white cold did not deter Jacob from navigating it. It was just another challenge to him, as everything else was. He spent the days after training in his swordplay and was building muscle strength by going out to get more firewood for himself and his father in the watchtower. Carrying all those big logs would be hard for an ordinary man, but Jacob was born to be strong as a Baratheon should be. Being alone gave the prince some time to process everything; the thought of becoming a northwoman's husband and becoming the man he was meant to be for his family and his house.

"I only met Alys Karstark once, it was at a gathering in Winterfell years ago. I was only a year into my northern stay, but it was a punishment. Seeing the other northern lords and ladies enter the gates of Winterfell for celebrations or talks of how to strengthen their region made staying there less of a prison and more of a home to me."

The prince knew the Starks and Karstarks were intertwined as blood ties go. Alys looked the winter's lady compared to Desmera, who looked the summer maiden. He put all thoughts of his first love behind him, when the war began. Jacob was a man of nine and ten and did not need to think about a silly girl from his past anymore. He was to be married and had to focus his attention on making his own marriage better than the other men of his house. He did not want to repeat the destructive cycle of poisonous or unhappy Baratheon marriages he had seen growing up.

Jacob kicked the slog of snow under his heavy brown boots. As a southern boy, the snow amazed him, as he always wanted to see it as a little boy growing up in Highgarden. He never had the opportunity to grow up the way he should have. To be a big brother to Shireen, to comfort his mother through the miscarriages and to even train in swordplay with his own father. The man had been forced to grow up in the households of other people, whether it was Highgarden or Winterfell; he had learnt a lot during his times away from home and would not change his lessons learnt for the world.

"I learnt most of the lessons I had were in Highgarden or in Horn Hill. As a boy, I thought Randyll Tarly had assumed the role of my father; he was more invested in my future as a warrior than my own father had been. He trained me alongside his own son Dickon in swordplay and archery, but I had progressed better than the proud lord's two sons. There were times I thought Randyll wished I was his son, so he would not put up with Samwell's disappointments and failure to meet his lord father's expectations of being a man by his rigid standards."

Meeting Samwell again at the Wall was bittersweet to Jacob. The Night's Watchman saw the man, his father measured him up to and someone, who was his kin through House Florent. It had been better this way, and Sam would have companionship in Jon, who was also an outcast in his family and the two found kinship in a place where their societal flaws did not matter. He missed the comradery at the Wall and how the black brothers supported each other no matter what. It was better than how Jacob was not allowed companionship in his own highborn circles because of the dreaded game of thrones, and how that game has damaged the way boys and girls in noble circles interacted with each other.

The prince's eye caught on someone standing a few feet away from the longhall. The closer he got to the place, the clearer it got for him. He was surprised to see Asha Greyjoy there, alone and without the She-Bear guarding her or Ser Justin hovering around her. It was the first time he had seen her alone, since he initially captured her after her surrender in Deepwood Motte, but her injured leg in battle made beating her a lot easier for him. She was unlike any other woman Jacob had met, maybe it was because she was ironborn and did not care or she knew she was alone in the world without any allies or family members to help her.

Of all the things Asha told him, Jacob did not believe at first. Her uncle Euron forced her to marry some old ironborn reaver and that made her less of a threat to her uncle being the ruler of the Iron Islands. He had some pity for her, to have her birthright taken away from her by an exiled uncle, who won the hearts and minds of the ironborn reavers, who wanted to spread more violence and terror, throughout the Seven Kingdoms, and this time the richer lands of the Reach and the Westerlands were the main targets of Euron's reeving campaign. Jacob understood Sorrell's thirst for ironborn blood because of the madman terrorising the Shield Islands and his sworn shield having guilt of not being able to help his family members trapped in the Reach.

At first, Jacob looked at Asha as nothing more than Ironborn scum, who deserved to spend the rest of her life in Winterfell's dungeons. She had to answer for the crimes of those pirates and rapers she called people, and for the crimes of what Theon had done to Winterfell. As the days went on, he saw Asha had resided herself to accepting the consequences of her crimes and the crimes of what her people had done in the North. It was like she had lost every bit of strength she had, since becoming his father's prized hostage.

The prince sniffed the air for the scent of cooking meat, as it was mostly from the horses that expired on their journey south. Jacob was no lover of horsemeat, but it was what the men in the longhall had to eat to keep themselves alive and to survive another day. It was difficult having to eat the food brought over by the Karstarks, but he requested the cooks of the Follard retinue to cook his food for him because he was convinced Lord Arnolf and his sons were plotting to poison him at the dinner table.

A gust of chilling winds blew past him. The heavy blizzard had lessened, but the storm continued. It seems the great sacrifice the Queen's Men had done made no difference to the weather, nor did it grant R'hllor's most faithful anything. Seeing the flesh-eaters be burned alive made Jacob more aware of how desperate men can be to survive, and how it was easy for them to turn cruel for the sake of survival. The prince sported a ponytail to tie up his growing hair. He missed having long hair, as it made him feel like a man, and having it cut short made him feel like he lost something of himself.

The prince trekked past where the makeshift stables were to keep the horses, whom were still alive and did not perish in the storm. Jacob was lucky to have his horse Misty kept in a warm stable, and to be fed with the nourishment brought from the Karstarks. He may not like those men, but they brought horse feed and was grateful for the soldiers they brought from Karhold. His horse was a well-bred southern horse bought by Uncle Robert from a great horse breeder in the Westerlands, and the breeder also got rich from selling and breeding strong horses for Tywin Lannister and his most important of war captains and bannermen in the West.

For Jacob, old memories of fonder times were uncomfortable because most of the people, in his memories were either the enemy or have died, since the war began. It was saddening to have the future of an entire house on his shoulders, but Jacob had no choice. He was his father's only son and was the heir apparent to King Robert Baratheon, even though the late king was only his uncle. He missed his favourite uncle and felt guilty for not being there when his uncle needed him to serve him at court and even teach Ned Stark to be less honourable when playing the game of thrones.

"They should call you, the wandering prince, as it's what you like to do all day." A voice said, in a haughty tone. Jacob turned around for it to be Asha Greyjoy. Even as a hostage, she still exuded a kind of charm that would have any man begging at her feet or wanting to bed her.

"I'm bored, what am I supposed to do. Have tea with grubby old Karstark men." The prince replied.

"Are you always in a foul mood, my sweet green prince? It's that greenlander charm you lack."

"I don't know what you are offering, but I'm not taking it."

"Most men would take what I have to offer, but you are different. A greenlander that is not tempted at the sight of a woman."

"Like I said before, Greyjoy. I'm a different man, an enigma amongst my own kind I guess."

"I hope your father doesn't throw me in Winterfell's cold dungeons too long. I'd like to see you in some fancy court cloths, when you marry the northern girl forced on you, by your father."

"Aren't you married yourself, my lady."

"It was a false marriage, an obstacle to keep me away from the Seastone Chair, which is mine by rights. The man is old enough to be the same age as an ironborn grandfather."

"Did you like the display the Queen's Men showed? You were lucky to be highborn, to be spared of such punishment from those red fanatics."

"Yet, they serve you and your father. You don't worship their red god or swear fealty to their red queen in return for their devotion of burning men alive."

Prince Jacob growled under his breath. He did not take insults towards his mother lightly, especially when it came to Ironborn filth like Asha. He was not blind to the influence Melisandre had on the men fighting for his father, since she arrived on Dragonstone years ago. The prince was not aware of how the Queen's Men had believed the Red Woman to be the queen they named themselves after, and not the rightful queen married to his father and the mother of his two children. He heard the rumours on the Wall, how even though Melisandre did not wear a crown, many men believed her to be his father's true queen, being the only woman, his father listened to and not dismiss from his side, unlike he had to his mother.

"Watch yourself, Greyjoy? Speak of such things again, you will be seeing the end of my sword soon enough." The prince said, in a threatening tone.

"I did not mean to upset you, green prince. I see you are sensitive about the red priestess, Ser Justin has told me about. Has she replaced your mother at your father's side or is she some common witch brought from the east?"

Prince Jacob grabbed Asha by her upper arm and did not let go. He was close to strangling her, but she was to be kept alive for his father and was going to keep his word. "I warned you once. Speak of business that is not yours again, and you will have to deal with me making the rest of your time as a hostage very hard, and Ser Justin will not be able to save you this time." The prince gritted between his teeth.

"You have a strong grip, it seems our last duel has inspired you. Getting yourself strong to face the Boltons and Freys. I have my own grip with Lord Bolton. His bastard has been flaying my brother, and I don't know whether he is dead or alive."

The man had released his grip on the Ironborn woman. He took a deep breath and looked at Asha, in a more neutral way. He saw someone as broken as jaded as he was from the war. The difference was that Jacob did not enjoy having to kill people in the war, and Asha revelled in conquering the North in the name of her father Balon Greyjoy, who was dead now.

"Why should I care? As far as I'm concerned Theon deserves his flaying for what he has done to Winterfell and murdering the Stark boys. Your brother is a turncloak and a child killer, how does it feel to be the sister of such a creature?"

Jacob glimpsed Asha's trembling lip, and stern face. He touched a nerve, and it served her right for talking about things that did not concern her. His family may be flawed, but at least he did not have a sibling that was a turncloak and murdered two highborn children. It was just like the times the two of them would antagonise each other, by using each other's families to insult one another. As the days went by, those insults got old and served nothing, but get the both angry with each other, because of their common attachment to their flawed families.

He knew the Greyjoy woman missed her brother, as Theon was her last living sibling, since the two older brothers were killed in the Greyjoy Rebellion. Jacob missed his sister too, but he knew Shireen would be okay with mother and many of the Queen's Men protecting her. He did not care if he crossed the line because she crossed the line also. The prince knew using Theon to poke at Asha was the easiest way to antagonise her.

"I'm not proud of what Theon has done. I tried to warn him of his actions and the consequences of it, but he did not listen. He was eager to prove himself to a father, who thought the greenlands made him too soft to be truly ironborn." Asha said, gritted between her teeth.

"No matter what he is; he is still your brother and you have to bear the consequences of his crimes, and the crimes of your people. Be fortunate you are not dead." Prince Jacob replied.

"I'd rather be dead than be treated like a wounded animal." Asha declared.

"What happened, Greyjoy? Did your Drowned God desert you in your time of need? Or did you forgo religion all together."

"Pox to all of them."

The prince chuckled at Asha's sentiment, as it came from someone who never believed in any faith whatsoever. She was not bad for a Greyjoy, which was telling because the rest of her family members were nothing, but rapers and reavers. He saw at the nightfire that she was not impressed by the show the Queen's Men put on, it was almost as if she was afraid of being thrown into the flames by Ser Godry and his men. As Balon Greyjoy's daughter, the woman did have king's blood, but a false king's blood nonetheless.

"What is your relations with Ser Justin? I'm curious to know why one of the more cowardly of the Queen's Men has chosen you to socialise with." Prince Jacob asked, with his arms folded.

"The man was courteous towards me, unlike you, green princeling. He gave me good food and good company away from the She-Bear."

"You know better than I that Ser Justin, like many of the men around here are ambitious. Most of them have lost their holdings and their lands because of siding with my father in the war, even the lands of House Florent were given away to Tyrells, when it belonged to the Tarlys by rights."

"The Iron Islands is nothing to be clamouring for, as long as Euron lives and is king. No other lord can marry me, as long as I am shackled to the husband the Crow's Eye forced upon me."

"What about a lord with a high station, like me?"

"Unless you want to fight Euron and die for it."

"I killed many men before, and I'm looking to add the Bastard of Bolton onto my slow but growing list of men I killed, along with Lord Whitehill and all his sons."

"Why? What have those poxy northmen done to occur your wrath?"

"Lord Ludd and his sons ran away before I could kill them. Their castle and all their lands now belong to my father and their rivals, the Forresters, as reparations for what their enemies have done, since the Red Wedding."

"Would you allow the Queen's Men to burn me? No matter how much you dislike me?"

"No, because I have a duty to keep you alive and to make sure you make it Winterfell unscathed. It is not a promise, but it is something I'm willing to do, even if the Queen's Men have to stomach not having you as fodder for their blood ritual."

The prince's stomach began to stir. It was as if he enjoyed Asha's company and had more to talk about than igniting her temper. He realised he and the Greyjoy woman were not so different from each other, but both were cut from the same cloth. Jacob smiled, knowing Asha would see it, to see the greenland prince break the stone cold look on his face for once and see the human side of him. The two of them were thrown in the middle of this northern war and had a common enemy behind the walls of Winterfell.