47 When Winter Comes

Wintercity, The Northern Realms

Septon Bernard was worried. He was in the middle of this land full of heathens with only six men. And the Whitehill were nowhere to be seen while they should've arrived yesterday at the latest. He knew something was wrong.

Suddenly, a commotion happened in the city and the news travelled everywhere, soon it will travel around the North and the entire realm. House Whitehill was nearly exterminated by a zealous septon and a few of the Warrior's sons but The Lady of Winterfell avenged them.

When Bernard heard that, he knew he needed to run and that is what he did, ten days later alongside his six men. He fled the city without much problem and rode for a couple hours before being stopped by a group of a hundred armed men displaying the banners of House Stark of Winterfell.

Leading that squad was a hulking tall man nearly 7 feet tall hand who was playing with his enormous warhammer as if it was a peeble.

One of his men told him "Guardian, here they are."

Three of the septon's warriors were just about to unsheathe their swords before two arrows struck them each in the heart and in the skull.

Just when Bernard and the 3 warriors thought that it was gonna be the end for them he saw the archers not nocking any arrows and some of them even sat on the ground and looked as if they were about to watch a mummer's play.

The Septon was about to sigh in relief thinking that he could still survive and flee to Oldtown until he saw the hulking man they called 'Guardian' marching on them without any of his men following him.

He stood a few meters away from them and said "Well, come."

One of the warrior snorted and said "What's the point? Even if we kill you, the other heathens will kill us."

The Guardian smiled "Don't worry, if you kill me, they will allow you to pass, you have my word."

The Septon screamed "The word of a barbarian heathen!!"

The Guardian, Sygerrik, shrugged his shoulders "Best thing you got methinks."

One of the warrior's son couldn't tolerate the condescending tone and charged alone.

That was a mistake.

Sygerrik swung his hammer and took everything in its path, the blade, the hand, the arm and the shoulder. He swung down and shattered both legs. The Warrior wailed in pain and collapsed on the ground.

The two remaining Warrior's son decided to attack together but even then it wasn't close, their opponent was a monster. He swing his fist at one of them nearly shattering his ribs. He then evaded the sword of the other fighter before swinging his hammer upwards on the jaw of the and beheading him with sheer strength. He proceeded to destroy the last warrior chest.

Septon Bernard was on his knees with hollowed eyes.

Sygerrik went to the first warrior to fall, the one with only one arm and no functioning legs anywhere.

He towered over him and listened to his last words. "I don't want to die without accomplishing the will of the Seven."

"The only thing less useful than the prattle of the weak is that of the dead." Sygerrik then turn his head into a pulp with his hammer.

He then turned to the Septon to apprehend him before hearing hooves. He and his men looked towards the noise and saw banners of House Dustin coming towards Winterfell.

The two group saluted each other before Barbrey Dustin got off her carriage and asked the Guardian "Is it him?" To which Sygerrik nodded.

She then walked towards Septon Bernard and smiled "I heard that Lord Stark is coming personally to Winterfell to execute you, I heard he will give you the Blood Eagle."

Septon Bernard quivered "I... We only wanted to bring the Seven here and have them bring prosperity through these lands."

Barbrey snorted "Do not mock me. You wanted history to remember your names. You didn't care about us or any properity."

Bernard wanted to retort but Barbrey interrupted him "Do not babble any further false priest from the Lands of the Turncloaks. Silently accept that your names and that of your faith and your gods shall be etched into history as the vainquished."

~

King's Landing, The Crownlands

Bad news kept on coming to the Small Council, their defeat against Stannis, Tygett's death, The Ironborn attacking and now Edmure Tully is gallivanting in the West.

"We need to destroy one of our enemies and very soon." Tyrion said to Bron.

Bronn replied "The way I see it, you're winning."

"We are not, the longer the war goes, the weaker we seem and the weaker our hold will be even if we are victorious." Tyrion answered while sipping whiskey. "And our hope to starve our enemies vanished just like that" he snapped his finger.

"Stark really got you there. Having a contract with the Tyrell. Buying food pour half the price and selling it to the Baratheons, the Arryns and the Tullys at triple the price they bought it." Bronn answered.

"Yes and we can't cancel the contract. The Tyrells wouldn't do that, they're fear Winterfell never buying food ever again from them again. And we also need the coin thanks to the debt Robert left us." Tyrion started massaging his forehead thinking about the loss of money of the Reach the last few years and the dry mines of Casterly Rock.

"Can't imagine the King of your sister being happy 'bout it."

Tyrion let out a little laugh "They both wanted our armies to march to Winterfell. Antagonizing the Northern Realms now is pure stupidity. Even though, we have to be careful, I don't like the situation."

Bronn asked him to explain and Turin continued "all the Kingdoms are at war but not the warmongers of the North nor the Dornish who are dreaming of vengeance for their princess."

"Do you think Sunspear and Winterfell are plotting?"

Tyrion nodded "Yes they are plotting, that is certain. But it is also certain that they aren't plotting together. Even though they haven't seen each other, Doran Martell and Aryan Stark despise one another."

Bronn scoffed "Politics."

~

Yunkai, Essos

Thanks to the Second Sons led by Daario Naharis, Daenerys was able to effortlessly make the Good Masters of Yunkai surrender in two days.

On the morning of the third day, the city gates swung open and a line of slaves began to emerge. Dany mounted her silver to greet them. As they passed, little Missandei told them that they owed their freedom to Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros and Mother of Dragons.

"Mhysa!" a brown-skinned man shouted out at her. He had a child on his shoulder, a little girl, and she screamed the same word in her thin voice. "Mhysa! Mhysa!"

Dany looked at Missandei. "What are they shouting?"

"It is Ghiscari, the old pure tongue. It means 'Mother.' "

Dany felt a lightness in her chest. I will never bear a living child, she remembered. Her hand trembled as she raised it. Perhaps she smiled. She must have, because the man grinned and shouted again, and others took up the cry. "Mhysa!" they called. "Mhysa! MHYSA!" They were all smiling at her, reaching for her, kneeling before her. "Maela," some called her while others cried "Aelalla" or "Qathei" or "Tato," but whatever the tongue it all meant the same thing. Mother. They are calling me Mother.

The chant grew, spread, swelled. It swelled so loud that it frightened her horse, and the mare backed and shook her head and lashed her silver-grey tail. It swelled until it seemed to shake the yellow walls of Yunkai. More slaves were streaming from the gates every moment, and as they came they took up the call. They were running toward her now, pushing, stumbling, wanting to touch her hand, to stroke her horse's mane, to kiss her feet. Her poor bloodriders could not keep them all away, and even Strong Belwas grunted and growled in dismay while Arstan and Ser Jaremy were about to unsheathe their weapons.

Ser Rayford urged her to go, but Dany remembered a dream she had dreamed in the House of the Undying. "They will not hurt me," she told him. "They are my children, Rayford." She laughed, put her heels into her horse, and rode to them, the bells in her hair ringing sweet victory. She trotted, then cantered, then broke into a gallop, her braid streaming behind. The freed slaves parted before her. "Mother," they called from a hundred throats, a thousand, ten thousand. "Mother," they sang, their fingers brushing her legs as she flew by. "Mother, Mother, Mother!"

She continued to walk around the city for hours. But she suddenly saw a bard who was about to sing until he saw her and here retinue he adressed here in the common tongue "Khaleesi, I have a new song coming from the Disputed Lands. Care to hear it?"

Daenerys smiled and nodded but it wasn't until she heard the song that she clenched her fists and her retinue nearly unscathed their swords.

🎵 When winter comes for war,

You shall hear no Lions roar.

When winter forces you to yield,

No Stags shall graze upon the field.

When winter creeps upon you from the shadows,

No Roses shall bloom from the meadows.

When winter wreaks havoc on the land,

You can bet there'll be no Snakes in the sand.

When winter brings to life all it finds grim,

The Krakens will freeze where they swim.

When winter sets and the land begins to shiver,

The Seven will start to rot and wither.

When winter fights to the last sliver,

No more Trouts shall swim in the river.

When winter ravages and all despair,

No Falcons shall fly high in the air.

When winter shows you what happens when snow falls,

Not even Dragons Breath shall warm you in your halls.

When winter comes with all it's might,

Only the Wolves shall howl in the night! 🎵

"What is the meaning of this?!" Thundered Arstan but he only saw the bard set the scene on fire and disappear in the crowd.

"Leave it." Said Daenerys "No point in killing the messenger."

"What I dreaded arrived earlier than I thought... The Company of the Rose rules the Disputed Land in all but name. It was a message from Winterfell. We have to be constantly careful, your Grace."

"If you need anyone to deal with the Rose let me do it. I have a score to settle with that oaf Morin." Said Daario.

"No. Our goal is Slaver's Bay. We match on Meereen soon." Daenerys said before leaving with Grey Worm and a dozen unsullied.

~

Raventree Hall, The Northern Realms

Aryan and his retinue of fifteen men were returning to Fairmarket after seeing the progress in both Seagard and Raventree Hall and he was happy with his progress.

He was riding when one of his men, a warg, warned him that a group as numerous than his was discreetly marching towards the Blackwood's home. He decided to intercept them, he told half his men to take their bows or crossbows and hide themselves.

He arrived in front of them and everyone dismounted their ride.

"What are you Baratheon men doing here?" He questioned them.

LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS! IN THE NAME OF THE ONE TRUE KING, LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS!" Gordy Farring shouted.

Aryan winced and and turned to Desmond and asked him "We're ten meters from each other, why is that half-breed screaming?" He then asked the Baratheon men "Stannis isn't stupid enough to do something like that and sending idiots like. It must be his crazy wife."

"You shall not disrespect Lady Selyse!" The Baratheon men all unsheathed their swords, the Starks men were about to reciprocate but Aryan stopped them.

"Lady? She has more hair on her face than both my wives combined have between their legs." Aryan answered while the Baratheon were seething.

He walked towards Godry Farring with his hand behind his back.

"Good of you to surrender." Said the knight.

"Surrender? You are quite funny." Aryan smiled

"So why are you walking towards me unarmed and alone. You will die, heathen." Godry barked

Aryan laughed and shrugged his shoulders "Don't worry about me, after all... You are weak." His men exploded in laughter.

"By the grace of R'hllor you are considered by King Stannis to be of more use alive than dead," he said. "Now surrender your sword. Valyrian steel should be used by a warrior worthy of it such as myself, not some lord who only uses it to scratch his arse."

"You want Ice?" Aryan smiled while thinking of his mother telling him her favorite story of her brother. "Then you shall have it."

"Good meal Remus." And then a 10 feet tall direwolf attacked them with his claws his teeth and made short work of ten Baratheon men, 4 others were put down by arrows and the last thing that Godry Farring saw was a ridiculous fast swing and then the world was upside down and his finale image on earth was that of his headless corpse.

~

Fairmarket, The Northern Realms

Aryan arrived back at Fairmarket when he received two reports. The first one from his wife who told him to return to Winterfell for executing Septon Bernard.

The second from his spies who noticed some plot going on between Tywin, Baelish, Corbray and a Lord in the West. Aryan told them to find out if it is about against his House.

He summoned his Lords and told them that he will leave "Try not to uselessly antagonize anyone while I am away. But if necessary... Well, you already know what to do." He smiled at them.

They all bowed and vowed "We will not fail you."

Aryan smiled at them and answered without blinking "None of my people have ever failed me or my House."

None of them could (or tried to) stop themselves from straightening up in pride at that.

He took Robb apart "You will be in charge until you have to return to the Moat for your wedding with Wylla."

It was decided that Robb will marry Wylla instead of Wynafryd. Robb and Wylla were closer to each other, Wynafryd wanted White Harbor and Lord Wyman was happy to be able to continue training his first son's heir.

"Our campaign isn't over, right?" asked Robb.

Aryan grinned, "We have traveled from each and every keep North of the Neck, arising from the crypts of Winterfell, walking through the Barrows of the First Men, stirring from the Wolfswood, sailing from White Harbor and Sea Dragon Point, from the islands of bears and maneaters, howling from the Last Hearth, soaring from the Wall and far beyond, expecting a meal. And wolves do not go home hungry."