Chapter 23

Winterfell

"You're to return to Riverrun and face Robb Stark's army at the Neck," intoned Brandon to the glassy eyed Hoster Tully, "Continue follow the instructions given to you… and just act as if you're in a real war, I want to test the little red haired Stark."

The imperio'ed Hoster Tully just repeated the instructions given to him once more by the Lord of the North.

What? You thought an immortal wizard who could pick up everyone and anyone's stray thoughts would be surprised by Hoster's declaration? It was all planned from the beginning. Hoster was placed under the imperio the moment he stepped inside the North.

Oh a war against the Vale was a definite thing ever since the death of Petyr Baelish, the trick was getting Hoster out of the picture while at the same time cornering the Lannisters. As long as Hoster lived, the Riverlands would remain weak. The man was content to leave the Riverlands as he entered it. Even then, he was an old man and it could be afforded to wait until he's dead so that Brandon the second could take his place and Brandon could begin playing with his control south of the neck.

No, the true reason for this war was to actually strengthen the power of House Tully in the region.

Twelve noble houses, that's how much lords were planning to take Riverrun for themselves after Hoster kicked the bucket.

And they would be right of course. Who wanted to be ruled by a kid who never even set foot inside the riverlands?

Since the war was inevitable anyway. The true power show of House Stark as well as the crippling of these houses was just moved a little bit forward. It was no use to move back the armies after they just finished a war down south, isn't it?

So with instructions given to Hoster to provoke a war, House Darry, Cox, Goodbrook, Grell, Paege and others would be ordered to place most of their levies and lords to meet and later become eradicated by the armies of the North at the neck. Other loyal lords and their levies would be placed to guard the Westerlands borders from any attack from the west.

After the war and the placement of young Brandon, those traitourous fucks – whatever was left of them- would have no way to possibly threat the peace in the Riverlands, and if they did have, it would be a long time later when my young cousin's power and loyalty was cemented amongst the Riverlords.

Nothing happens without a reason.

Nothing.

That still didn't mean that Brandon would just go easy on the future lord of Moat Cailin. If things went terribly wrong, a little misplaced fiendyre would help boost the morale as well as help the eldest son of Catelyn Stark.

After centuries of getting everything with a wave of his hand, a real challenge was amusing every now and then.

Well, Legilemency doesn't count. If you had the power to read the mind, would you refrain from doing so because it's immoral?

Back to the original topic, Brandon was now reading a letter from the last Houses of the First Men among others have declared against the actions of Lysa Arryn and raised their banners in support of the North.

This was actually pretty surprising.

Lord Gerold Grafton of Gulltown, Horton Redfort, Benedar Belmore and most surprisingly Lord Yohn Royce among others.

It appeared that Lysa has ordered the Steward, a Royce, thrown out of the moon gate after his years of loyal service, enraging one of her most powerful bannermen. The reason was because the man apparently declared among court the absurdity of a Stark killing Lord Arryn.

Lord Grafton already had a grudge against the Arryns from the time of the Rebellion.

7 Lords, the strongest harbor of the Vale and the Mountain Clansmen were all in the North's grasp.

Not all of the Vale were against Lysa's crazy actions, the fucking Sistermen began to harass and attack the newly built Wolf den's and raiding ships and lands in the Bite.

Brandon was interrupted from his thoughts by a knock on the door, "My lord," A soldier dressed in the typical death eater black armor said, "The men are ready to move."

"Very well," He said with a sigh, "Bring Robb and Jon to me."

The soldier nodded and left almost inaudibly.

Only the Knights of Walpurgis, the Guardians of the North and the Death Eaters would be deployed towards the Vale with the rest travelling with my cousin's party. The Vale couldn't be drowned by numbers. Men who had trained their whole lives in Guerilla Warfare and infiltration however were the strongest at the Vale.

So Brandon figured that only these 2 bases as well as reinforcements from the lords of the Vale and Mountain Clansmen would be enough to take down the Vale. The Death Eaters were mostly reserved for the Eyrie.

With the South being held by the lords loyal to us and the west harassed constantly by much better and organized clansmen, only the North remained to take down to literally corner the Vale.

The Three sisters were going down.

"You called for us, cousin?" Jon asked

Brandon nodded and motioned to them to sit around.

"Have you given any thoughts of the impending war?"

Robb stammered a bit, "Erm… You just gave me command of half the North's army a few hours ago…"

Brandon closed his eyes with a sigh, "Robb… I may not know you as well as I know Jon, but you're family and therefore I trust you," he looked at him as he saw he was getting exceedingly pleased with himself, "That doesn't apply for half the lords of the North, however."

"Wh-What? Why? I have never even met with most of them," He asked perplexed.

Brandon raised an eyebrow at him as his eyes settled in understanding, "I'm half a Tully."

"Yes, you are," Brandon said with a sigh, "Your mother's actions last night have done you no favors either."

"But… I'm completely loyal to you, I swear. I would never think of betraying the North." He said, completely flushed and nervous.

"Relax, I know that," He said placating him and twirling the whiskey in his cup, "I am going to send Ramsay and Roose Bolton with you."

If Robb looked nervous before, his facial reaction now was almost downright fear, "The-The Demon of the Dreadfort?"

"The very same," he nodded.

He gulped, before nodding and asking shakily, "May I ask why?"

"House Bolton in the past was not the most loyal bannermen," he spared a glare at Jon who snorted, "They also have a… reputation. With them being your most loyal supporters and also instilling fear in any cunt, you will guarantee the support of the other lords… until you prove your worth to them that is."

He nodded, and Brandon continued, "Listen to them, as well as the other lords accompanying you. You're young and they have been to more battles and wars than you have had spars. Lead the men from the front. Don't. Ever. Hesitate," he turned around and looked directly into Robb's blue eyes, "and be absolutely ruthless in your first battle."

"Wh-What about honor and you know… honor!" He exclaimed indignantly.

"Yea forget about that," Brandon said with a mocking smile, "War is cruelty. There is no use trying to reform it. The crueler it is, the sooner it will be over."

He was a little shocked but remained silent and went to leave the room when Brandon called, "If you feel a bit queasy about doing something, order Ramsay to do it."

He nodded once again stiffly without turning back.

Jon watched his back until he closed the door before turning back towards Brandon, "This could prove problematic."

"He's disillusioned," Brandon said waving his hand, "He'll kill a dozen men and won't feel a thing after it."

Jon looked a little uncertain but shrugged anyway, "What is it you need of me?"

"This," Brandon said handing him the letters of declaration.

Jon took them and his eyes moved over the letters quickly with no visible reaction on his face until he was finished, "That's good, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is, but I'll have to lead our armies from the south myself to ensure their continued loyalty."

Jon still looked confused, "The Three Sisters," Brandon clarified.

"I can take it easily," He said confused.

"I know you can," Brandon nodded, "But I don't want you to just take it."

Jon sat silent in his seat before saying, "You want another Rape of the Three Sisters?"

"Not as excessive…" Brandon started.

"So, no killing children and cooking them in pots, disemboweling men and wounding their entrails around spits?" Jon asked amusedly.

"Yes let's refrain from these," I said with equal amusement, "I need however every soldier and noble house in the Three Sisters slaughtered."

"Another Headman's Mount it is then?" Jon asked.

Brandon nodded, looking in the face of his cousin for any reaction, "If you feel uncomfortable I could switch you with Ramsay…"

"No… No it's unnecessary. But for what reason?"

Brandon's eyes got hardened, "To act as an… incentive for the other lords."

"Very well…" Jon stood up and sighed, "I will take the Knights of Walpurgis and secure the Three Sisters."

"Good."

"I expect an extraordinary wedding after this, cousin!" He exclaimed on his way to the door.

Brandon shook his head and chuckled softly at his cousin's retreating figure.

"I could've sworn they called the banners only yesterday…" Kevan muttered to his brother.

"This is worrying, Kevan," Tywin said to his only trusted advisor, his brother, as his gaze fell upon the 50,000 Northmen ready to move and organized in columns infront of Winterfell, "They could potentially take down any kingdom before it's completely assembled its armies."

"Aye," Kevan said, never once taking his eyes from the steady trickle of soldiers moving precisely and holding their weapons professionally, unlike the levies who probably never held a sword in their hands, "Should we increase the Westerland's standing army?"

Tywin shook his head, "We're hard pressed to match the production rate of the North's mines as it is. We can't afford to take men off the mines and lands to enlist them because of a threat that may never come."

"A marriage alliance then?" Kevan proposed.

"We have no daughters of proper stations to offer to Brandon Stark and Ned Stark wouldn't even contemplate marrying a daughter or a son of his to a Lannister," Tywin said shaking his head.

"Your rice, my lord," A maid said bowing to Kevan who took the dish with a huge smile.

"What are you doing Kevan?" Tywin said with a grimace.

"Oh this?" Kevan said happily, "I've scoured the Westerlands for some rice but I only find it scarcely. I thought I would enjoy it while we're here since it's in abundance."

Tywin looked distinctly uncomfortable and Kevan frowned, "Weird though, Cersei tells me they have barrels of it at King's Landing. Is the Stark boy barring some of his products to the West?"

"No he's not," Tywin shook his head.

"You had something to do with this didn't you?" Kevan said with realization at his brother's tone. The only people that were able to understand Tywin with a glance and affect him were only Kevan and Genna. Not even his son Jaime could understand him as good as his brothers.

"Yes," he said briefly.

"Tywin, it's not logical to forbid any food you don't like into the Westerlands…" Kevan said uncertainly looking at his brother.

Tywin spared his brother a disgusted glance, "I'm storing it."

Kevan remained silent for a moment, "You expect the prices of rice to rise in the future?"

Tywin closed his eyes at his brother's stupidity, "No, Kevan. I'm storing a crop that cannot be spoiled in any way as long as it is stored in a dry place because it would be an immense help to any future sieges."

Kevan nodded his head slowly, "That's well thought. How much do you have stored?"

"2 of the old mines at the top of Casterly Rock are completely flowing with rice."

"Tw- Two mines?" Kevan asked incredulously. Two mines full of delicious rice hidden from him in the heart of his home?

"Indeed. No one but I is allowed inside." He said directing a knowing gaze towards his brother.

Kevan sighed, the sacrifices one had to for his family, and nodded to his brother briskly before excusing himself.

He steeled himself. He was going to defy Tywin for the first time since his birth.

He was going to buy a couple dozen barrels back with him to his Manor in Lannisport.

The Three Sisters, The Vale of Arryn.

Jon stood at the front of his ship, the wind blowing heavily against his face as he could see the island which he was supposed to take nearing in distance. He could feel Ghost nearing him softly and watching the approaching islands with his red eyes.

His part of the fleet was supposed to take Sweetsister, Lord Manderly was supposed to take Littlesister and Lord Karstark Longsister.

Unlike the eastern coast of the Vale, the northern coast was filled with mountains and rocky shores. No harbors whatsoever were on the North and the closest reinforcements would have to come from the Fingers, which were convienetly threatened from the south as well, so abandoning their castles and reinforcing the Three Sisters wasn't even in the realm of possibility.

They were utterly alone.

Jon took half of the Knights while the other Lords filled the remainder of their crews from their own Knights and soldiers. Their mission was simple, kill every single man with a sword in his hand, with a sigil on his chest and annihilate the nobility of the Three Sisters. As soon as the islands were completely defenseless, Lords appointed by his cousin would arrive to colonize the islands in Northern style, gain the love and gratitude of the common people and heavily garrison the castles and defenses of the island.

"Prepare to land," He yelled to the assembled soldiers as the crew began to ready the stairs as he watched the men of house Sunderland assembling in hastiness as alarms began ringing all over the island. These weren't the Stepstones were one had to fight his way to a good landing spot, nor was it Seaguard where generations of the now extinct Ironborn fruitlessly tried to take it. These was a glorified den of pirates with no natural defenses to it. So when Jon's men landed from the north, east and west of the island. The Sistermen scrambled to defend their island.

Jon shook his head at their foolishness. They should have retreated into their castles; Brandon strictly ordered that any man not holding a sword was not to be touched. He wanted to give a message, not slaughter the entire inhabitants of the Three Sisters.

Indeed from his position as they were almost at the beach now, he could see that most of these men wore mismatched armor if any. Only a few hundred men could be considered soldiers. The others were pirates.

Not so different from the Stepstones then. He thought shaking his head. He know if he just ordered his men to charge they would likely destroy them before dawn, but the Knights of Walpurgis were one of the most disciplined troops in the world. They attack in formation and could the most complicated tactics were others would fail miserably.

"First row! Dismount!" He yelled.

The trembling but admittedly snarling Sistermen watched confusedly as they braced for a charge that never came. Instead, the first rank snapped tightly in one row and kneeled with their pikes standing horizontally and their shields interlinked. 15 more rows snapped into place until the men formed a rectangle with pikes protruding from every direction and shields covering them completely.

The confusion didn't last forever though as the first volley of arrows arrived. The men didn't react visibly as the arrows fell aimlessly on their shields. As soon as it passed, Jon yelled the order from the rear, "Forward."

It was a methodical pace, stopping as every volley of arrows sailed at them, and moving towards the assembled Sistermen. Soon enough, the fuckers decided that the shields were useless and decided to try and rout us with whatever pitiful cavalry they had.

"Hold your shields!" Jon yelled to his men while other commanders in the parallel phalanxes echoed his orders.

While most levies would have shook or even quivered at the sight of a cavalry charge, his men didn't. All he saw was the narrowing of their eyes and tensing until the moment where the first charge was close enough to crash against their walls.

With the first charge came the first blood spilled in the day. Whatever didn't smash and crash under the weight of their horses were pulled down by the pikemen standing in the second row and stabbed as soon as he was down and dead. By the time the last horse arrived, they were knee deep in corpses and blood.

Jon grimaced as he stepped over a man choking on his own blood and quickly pushed his blade through his heart, ending his struggle. He took a deep breath, he couldn't show any mercy, not today.

He could hear the creaking of the siege engines having been built and catching up with the men now behind him. Good, they were just in time. He thought.

Only when Jon looked behind him did he realize the level of destruction. A trail of blood, death and men were skewered behind his troops, while he had lost none. They had better armor, better training, discipline and weapons.

It wasn't war or battle. This was pig slaughter.

"My lord," a voice interrupted his melancholic thoughts, "The rest of their men have fallen back into the castle. Should we secure the town?"

Jon nodded, it was an obvious thing and from his look the man looked like a commanding officer so it was only out of courtesy and respect that he was asking for Jon's order, "Commander," he hesitated before giving the last order, "Capture every man with a sword if you can. Not at the cost of our soldiers own lives though."

The man looked uncertain at his orders but nodded nevertheless and loudly relayed the orders which were repeated by the rest of officers.

"How long until the siege engines are ready?" Jon asked the head of Battle Engineers that was accompanying him.

"An hour till we set up everything, my lord," He scratched at his beard, staining his face from the grease and oil, "We would have finished it in less, my lord. But this is a prototype," he grinned toothily, "The Sistermen volunteered to have it tested on them."

Jon smiled faintly at the grinning man and sent him on his way.

He followed the men breaking down doors and securing houses. Slaughtering those who resisted and taking a leg or arm from those who they could. Not that they were looking forward to a happy end.

An hour of screaming and fires passed a little bit too fast for Jon's taste. The remaining men and children were warned that if they left the confines of their houses they would die.

"My lord," the now returned officer approached him, his sword bloodied and the direwolf sigil on his shield covered with splatters of blood, "The city has been secured."

Jon gave him a nod and turned towards the head of Engineers, "Whenever you're ready."

The man grinned and turned back to the construct they were working on tirelessly for the last hour. It was just one simple big crossbow, although he could see that the mechanism of propulsion was different. The two arms of the siege engine were made of wood. Ropes were attached to each arm were the springs of it. The ropes are made what he could see was… acromantula silk. That must have cost a pretty penny.

"Load the scorpions." The man yelled.

The group of workers and engineers quickly snapped into work dragging the largest cart he's ever seen, which was coincidentally made of reinforced iron, slowly near the cranes they set.

Six engineers jumped on the cart as soon as it stopped and began unscrewing the roof of the cart quickly until it slid into the ground with a heavy thud. Then they jumped inside the cart and began tying the ropes of the four cranes around whatever was inside before signaling for the men that it was okay.

The biggest cast iron scorpion bolt Jon have ever seen soon came into view as it was lifted and carefully placed in its place, then the Head of Engineers looked over everything and motioned that it was ready.

"At your call, my lord," The man said, bouncing eagerly on his heels from excitement.

Jon only raised an eyebrow and asked, "Aren't you going to move it in front of the door?"

"Oh, no my lord, that would be such a waste of our bolts."

Jon shrugged and gave the man the signal to fire.

It wasn't instantenous as Jon thought, instead the men started to rotate a winch which in turn twisted the ropes and pulled back the bow arms of the weapon.

"FIRE!" The man yelled gleefuly as the man arming the weapon nodded.

And what a bolt it was.

You have to understand Jon's skepticism. They were aiming the bolt to go along the walls not aiming for a weak spot rather they meant for it to take down the entire south wall of the castle.

And surprisingly it did, with an explosion that lit the whole island on.

The sheer power and momentum released by the bolt shook the ground under them and caused a few engineers to fall on the floor and miss their moment. The bolt practically passed through the thick walls like a knife through hot butter taking an entire side of the castle with it and skidding further to the other side of the castle.

In battles where siege engines were used, usually only a part of the walls fell, which gave the defenders a slight advantage over the slightly huddled attackers. This one however, killed every single man that stood even near the entire south wall and crumbled it to the ground, practically inviting us to take the castle.

And take we did.

The men discarded their pikes and phalanax formation and took on their short swords while still remaining in tightly packed formations to defend themselves. The phalanax was sadly only useful on open field, but when it was used, it was absolutely devastating to whoever dared and attack them.

As he slashed and stabbed anyone in his way through the heavily barricaded door that just fell into the room which he could only assume where the lord of the castle was hiding, he closed his eyes one last time for the amount of children, men and women that were awaiting their deaths after this final stand.

Was it worth it?

All for sending a message?

Was it honourable?

Jon has killed before, slit throats of men that have done nothing but irritate his cousin. But a part of him always held desperately to his father…

His eyes darkened as he lost himself in memories.

"Bastard," Catelyn Stark hissed at him as she took Robb from his arm and began lecturing him loudly that he shouldn't associate himself with an abomination born of sin and lust.

He ducked as a slash almost took his head and locked blades with a man wearing the sigil of Three women's heads, white with black hair, on a barry wavy blue and green field.

Triston Sunderland. The Lord of Three Sisters.

"Come to finish your ancestors massacare?" He spat as he once again striked, which Jon parried and countered with one of his own.

"You'll always be a bastard," Catelyn Stark told him, "Nothing more, nothing less."

Jon snarled and pushed forward, causing the greying Lord to stumble backwards.

"A lady shouldn't associate herself with bastards Sansa," Septa Mordane said with pursed lips.

He rolled out of the way and slammed the pommel of his sword into the man's face.

"You will dine down with the rest of the riff raff," Catelyn Stark told him as she towered over him, "A bastard has no place in the high table."

The man screamed charging again with his sword high, and Jon leaned away from the blade as it swept past him.

Ned Stark looking at him sadly but doing nothing, while his wife looked at him coldly and reminded him that he was a bastard and insulting him in front of his brothers and sisters.

Jon's anger welled up inside him as the face of the man in front him twisted into the face of Catelyn Stark and began pushing and slashing way faster than the old man could parry or block.

Hoster Tully narrowing his eyes at him as he spat sarcastically, "Ahh, the honourable Lord Stark's huge mistake." While Jon's father could only look sadly at Jon.

Lady Catelyn was now on the ground as Jon stabbed and slashed at the body.

Brandon Stark banged the table strongly enough to make the legs creak under the force of his slam, "Bastard or not, he's still a Stark." he whispered softly, "Watch your tongue Tully or the next time you insult my kin, Riverrun would suffer the same fate as Pyke."

He could faintly hear the men calling for him and stopped stabbing and slashing for a moment as his mind cleared. Catelyn Stark mocking face no longer stared at him, instead it was a bloody stump of a face of the proud man who was Lord Sunderland.

He looked at what he had done and back at his sword, covered in bits of bone and completely drenched in blood before returning to reality.

"What should we do, my lord?"

Jon took a moment to take his breath.

He looked at the sons of the now dead Sunderland lord and his daughters and noble ladies kneeling in the ground and looking on fearfully.

"I'm sure whoever disrespects you would suffer in a way that would make a Bolton cringe," Jory said to a 10 year old Jon snow.

Jon looked the waiting officer in the eyes and gave the order, "Gather every one alive to the execution block. Bring all the dead bodies as well."

He walked away ignoring the wails and screaming of children and their mothers pleading for mercy.

He made his choice.

His only true family was his uncle Benjen and cousin Brandon.

His brothers were Ramsay and Brandon.

He would slaughter a thousand woman and child for his cousin.

The second Rape of Three Sisters is only the beginning.