From the Lips of Flayed Men - GoT AFFC Spoilers

Henry v. Keiper · May 1, 2014

Dragons, marriages and plots - quite an eventful two updates.

I do find it funny that the CK2 AI tends to invite to plots that would, in most situations, cause the conspirators to get themselves in trouble. It'd be like if Stauffenberg went to Goebbels to join the plot to kill Hitler.

ATempler · May 1, 2014

Derahan said:
Finally you are a grown man, now Westeros can bend the knee to the banner of the flayed man!

One step at a time

Henry v. Keiper said:
Dragons, marriages and plots - quite an eventful two updates.

I do find it funny that the CK2 AI tends to invite to plots that would, in most situations, cause the conspirators to get themselves in trouble. It'd be like if Stauffenberg went to Goebbels to join the plot to kill Hitler.

It was very unusual. I wasn't sure how to react at first. What was more annoying was that I hadn't otherwise discovered the plot so I couldn't go ahead and lock her up. Not to say that I didn't of course. Things like that can't be forgotten and have to be dealt with.

Herbert West · May 2, 2014

Who did you get married to? Did I miss that?

ATempler · May 3, 2014

Herbert West said:
Who did you get married to? Did I miss that?

Lady Kyra, of Flint Keep.

Last post, previous page. Thanks for reading!

addsub · May 3, 2014

Not a bad match brings you another hold fast and bannermen!

ATempler · May 3, 2014

Chapter V - Hunt for the White Hart

It didn't take long after my return to end the conspiracy. I told Perra that I needed a friend to speak with an envoy from the King in Overtown. She happily obliged and after a last night to enjoy her particular beauty, she left the court in the morning. Needless to say, she never arrived and was dragged into the dungeons by the Dreadguard the night after. I went down the steps to the dungeons, lined with countless skins of House Boltons enemies. Each had the emblem of their House seared into them. I recognized near all of them, but some belonged to Houses that must have died out. I spoke with her at length but it wasn't easy. I might be a deceitful man, but I am also just and could not deny I had wronged her to save my Mother. My honour was tainted from my dealings but ... it had to be so.

She told me her plot at length, and named the people involved before the torture had begun. I was happy to have spared her that at least. Flaying her would have been difficult. Not because it is hard - the library of House Bolton is very instructive and clear about the matter - but because I knew her so well. She was unchained in the dungeons after that, and I had a bed brought in for her. The matter of dealing with the other conspirators however, still plagued me.

Arwyn Frey. Koroxhar of Yeen. Mark, the Master of Coin and Master of the Hunt. Ser Walder Frey. Rodwell of Coldstone.

But another name was yet to be added.

Rodrik, Husband of Lady Arya Stark.

Mother had found out about my visits from Perra after they had ceased. When she found out we had spent our last night together, she had expressed her disappointment very clearly. She at least came to me with the news I needed to hear however. She found her husband had been working to remove her from her position. Given Perras plot, I knew he must have been involved. I broke the matter to Mother and we reconciled, agreeing that the conspirators had to be dealt with. After some discussion, I had Master Ryswell come to us and we explained everything.

We had already continued our training from when he had been my tutor but now the sparring matches took on a new urgency. With my Mothers life on the line, it didn't take long for me to work myself harder and to exceed even Master Ryswell, becoming easily the most talented swordsman in my lands. Despite the odd loss, I bested him near every match after a few more weeks. Soon after, we put our own plot into action.

Rodrik, Rodwell of Coldstone and Arwyn Frey remained at Court with Mother, Master Ryswell and all the rest of the Dreadguard. For those at court, the arrests came easy. Snatched in the middle of the night by fully armoured men there was little they could do. For my party though, things did not go as planned.

With Mark, Koroxhar of Yeen and his attendant, Ser Walder Frey, and Ser Walders pair of squires we rode out. Though they did not know at the time, they would be confronted by myself, Harlon of Brandonborough, Donnor of Brandonborough (No Relation) and Bannen Baine with a half a dozen men of the Dreadguard.

We were deep in the hunt, having just past the city of Weeping when the ruse was over and the trap was sprung.

"I don't believe you." Koroxhar said. "You call us out into the woods for a hunt and we spend half a day travelling to where rumours tell of a White Hart?" He looked around the members of the party. "Lies." He spat, moving his hand to rest on his dagger that on his short frame, looked more like a short sword. The blade hung awkwardly at his side and looked out of place with his clothes. It was an intricate foreign blade, a relic from his life as a pirate. His clothes however, were of Northern make and were dull earthen colours with none of the flair of his Southern Steel.

"Koroxhar, I know we've had our disagreements but why would I turn on you?" Roose asked. The wind picked up a bit and the trees swayed as the unkempt hair on his forehead did. He slid his own hand down to the sword at his side. "And here of all places!" He said. "In my woods, on the hunt for a Hart."

"I am thinking there is no Hart." he answered, pulling on his beard as if it were a leash to keep himself from lunging at the Lord.

"I have known our Lord longer than any of you. I grew up with him." Ser Walder began. He looked different than Roose imagined most Freys did. He had short, well combed red haird that was swept back and kept off his face. He was clean shaven and, for all the looks it earned him, he proudly displayed his House's sigil on his chest upon the tunic covering much of his chainmail armour. When they were younger, Roose had promised to get him a proper steel plate after the Ser had bested him in a stick fighting duel. But that was then, and Roose was the better swordsman now. "He is a just man." Walder continued. "We are here to hunt a Hart, despite your grievances." He glanced at Koroxhar. Behind him, his squires glanced between the swordsmen.

Roose smiled faintly. He could hear the gallop of hooves from deeper in the forest and turned his head to see Harlon and Donnor riding fast with the hounds and a trio of hares strung over their horses neck. They were laughing deeply, and Harlon - the fatter of the two - was eating a cluster of wildaberries he had picked. Donnor however was more focused. He was riding on the hunt as if for the first time, and burned with pride at the rabbits they had caught. Each was dressed in little more than the colours of the dreadfort - a simple leather cuirass with the symbol of a flayed man resting over the heart, red skin on white posts. Harlon had a crossbow strung over his shoulder, and Donnor had an axe at his side. The axe would be of more use at this range.

"Finally returned from your little foray?" Bannen asked. He had a sword at his hip, and was the first of Roose's sworn swords, though they had spent little enough time together. True, the man was large - he ate more than Roose but less than Harlon - but he was a kind man. Thankfully for Roose, he was also a trusting man, and trusted most of all in his liege. He wore his own armour however. Hailing from House Baine who had risen from the city of Weeping itself, his sigil was the face of a weirwood tree, crying two drops of blood on a white background. His tunic, like Ser Walder was worn over the chainmail of his armour and was dyed the appropriate colours.

"Why? Did you miss us?" asked Harlon.

"I've never been hunting before. Why haven't we gone more often?" Donnor asked, dismounting his horse and pulling the hares towards the pack horse, behind Koroxhar and the others who were now stood facing Roose, Bannen and the new arrivals.

"I've never felt like killing anything before." Roose said. Ser Walder chuckled, but Koroxhar mumbled to himself.

"You should try it more often m'lord. Helps me think in difficult situations." Harlon said, stuffing another wildaberry into his mouth as he tossed the hares to Donnor. The hounds snapped at them before Donnor caught them and trotted merrily after him as he walked with all six.

"Six hares on a day like this?" Mark asked. The old man had been Master of the Hunt since before Roose could speak. Perra's husband had been rewarded with her hand for years of faithful service, both on the hunt and in court. He was dressed in a simple leather cuirass, just as Donnor and Harlon were and he carried a spear in his left hand.

"It's not so foul a day as to sour the sport." Harlon said. Roose looked around the forest. Earlier it had been raining and the sky was grey. Now however it looked more like the day had cleared, save for the strong wind and the chill. The North had undergone two winters since the War of the Five Kings, and ravens from Castle Black had warned of growing threats beyond the Wall with each. The second Winter, Eastwatch by the Sea had gone silent and it was only weeks later that Rangers from Castle Black had found it entirely empty, but littered with arrows and covered in signs of a struggle. Now that Winter seemed to be approaching again, the Northmen were uneasy and the Southerners laughed all the harder at the North, at Jon Snow, at the whole Night's Watch for that matter. Of course though, they laughed to convince themselves it was all a lie. Some of the leaves fell from the highest reaches of the forest as he thought.

"Are we settling for hares, or does this Hart exist at all?" Koroxhar asked.

"Ah!" Mark said, raising his finger. "The Hart was last seen earlier today, by the creak some ways into the forest. We should pick up the trail soon enough, and then we'll have him." He finished.

"Sooner than you think, old man." Harlon said.

"Harlon!" Roose snapped. It had to go exactly according to plan. He couldn't kill them outright. Ser Walder and his squires were good men, maybe even innocent - but Perra had confessed to relations with him as well. Mark had been accused by Perra, as was Koroxhar but he wouldn't kill them without trial. Perra confessed to relations with Koroxhar, though apparently not since visiting upon Roose. The last part, Roose didn't believe. Were it not for his own secret nights with Perra behind his wife, he might have felt justified in being angry. The thought of the dwarf though ... That did not sit well with him.

"It's alright, m'Lord. I believe Master Harlon has simply got the scent of blood after those hares he caught. Let's see if he can catch the scent of the Hart shall we?" He asked, slapping his horse and riding off. One of the Dreadguard followed him, and Harlon stuffed the last of the wildaberries into his mouth and turned his horse.

Roose glared at him.

Don't.

The man took off after Mark and held Roose's eyes for a second before the dogs ran after him. The Lord of the Dreadfort eased his look before turning back to Ser Walder and Koroxhar. "Shall we find the Hart, friends? or shall we find a mummers tale?" He said with a smile.

"A mummers tale! All it is!" Koroxhar yelled after the others as they rode away.

Roose smilled more, and brushed the hair out of his eyes. "I have heard a mummers tale recently. Very strange. It happened, right in these lands." He began. Ser Walder learned forward, resting his hands on the saddle. Koroxhar squinted, and swatted something away from his face. "There was a maid, beautiful and born in the wood. She had a fine face, with gentle features and enticing eyes. Her lips were full, and she had long, brown hair, flowing down so that if she were naked, it cover even her luscious tits." He continued. Koroxhar looked at Roose, still holding his daggers hilt.

"She sounds like the whores in Kings Landing." He interrupted. Ser Walder ignored him, but the squires behind him chuckled to one another, and behind them, Donnor stood, pulling his axe from his hip.

"Oh she was." Roose answered. Brennen was easing back in his saddle, his hand drifting more to his sword. "See she found her way into the court of the Dreadfort because of her beauty. When she was there, she found herself wed to an ugly, fat, old man named Mark who was lowborn and had no title. But her beauty got her farther than that."

Koroxhar was glancing at everyone now, and Ser Walder was standing up straighter. "My Lord, I-"

"Be quiet Ser." Roose said. "First, she fucked the dwarf who had been everywhere, and done everything, and everyone. She found that he had fanciful tales of wild adventure and depraved lusting. A hedonist, who cared nothing for her virtue and had nothing himself. Eventually, he beat her and she turned from him." Ser Walder looked at Koroxhar with mouth agape before Roose continued.

"Second, she took comfort in the arms of the Ser, who fell in love with another mans wife. He was unwed himself. He had never been with a woman, and to him she was a goddess." Roose said, looking at his old friend. "He loved her, and she loved him. At least, he thought, for a time." His voice caught in his throat.

"Soon though, she was hungry, and the girl came to the Lord of the castle, a High Lord to be sure. But she wasn't hungry for him this time, not while she still loved the Ser, no. She was hungry for blood. She knew the Ser could never make himself anything while the Lord's Mother lived, and the Ser's aunt knew also. You see she hated him, for their Houses had a poor history, even worse than those of the Lord and his Mother. So she came to the Lord and asked for him to betray the woman who had raised him, for her, while she-" He swallowed through a coarse throat but kept composed. "while she loved the man he was raised with."

The squires didn't chuckle anymore. Koroxhar was silent and still. From Ser Walder Frey, a tear ran down his face.

"My Lord, I didn't-"

"I'm not finished." He interrupted, looking hard at his childhood friend. "So the Lord took her. He took her every night, for a fortnight and all he did was listen. And he learned. And soon enough, the girl found herself locked away in the dungeon and when the Lord came to her."

"When he threatened to scalp the hair from her head, and peal back her face from her skull, she confessed to everything and all her conspirators were known to him."

"You didn't!" Ser Walder cried.

"No! I didn't! She told me everything before I had to." Roose yelled.

"Had to? No one HAS to flay anyone! Ever!"

Roose shook his head as he composed himself. "A flayed man has no secrets." he said, looking straight into Ser Walders eyes.

There was silence for a moment. A brief, fraction, scant moment.

The silence was broken by the clash of swords and barks and growls farther in the forest, from where Harlon had chased Mark. "Gods damn that fool." Roose said through grated teeth. He gestured one of the Dreadguard to race to the clash, as the others looked on, having surrounded the five plotters as their lord spoke.

It was 7 against 5. It was Roose, Brennen Baine, Donnor and four Dreadguard against Koroxhar and his attendant, and Ser Walder and his two squires.

"I am thinking, we will fight now." The dwarf said, drawing his dagger as his attendant drew a curved sword beside him.

"Roose, I didn't know." Walder said. They looked at one another.

"I killed her this morning for her treason." He said. Roose drew his sword.

"Seize them."

Donnor grabbed the squires from the saddle, and dragged them backwards of the horses before flinging them to the sides. Two of the Dreadguard dismounted to hold them, while Ser Walder drew his sword and drove his horse towards Roose. Koroxhar flung his dagger at the nearest guardsman with surprising speed and it stuck deep into the mans face, spraying blood on the leaves nearest him. A moment later, the dwarf had pulled a curved sword from his attendant as the man drove his horse against one of the other guards.

Walder met Brennen before he had neared Roose, the man darting out to protect his lord. The two were evenly matched in sword play as the Lord of the Dreadfort watched the rest of the melee unfold. Koroxhar's attendant had already cut down one of the other Dreadguard, and Donnor was rushing forward to meet the dwarf who was still mounted on his horse.

Roose sidestepped the fighting, uneager to face his friend and darted at Koroxhars attendant when the opening sprung. He darted forward on his horse, but the foreigner was too quick and spun his blade to parry. The counter strike was clumsy in the heat of the moment, and Roose threw his head back to miss the swing. That one mistake was all he needed. He slashed open a gash in the mans side and blood poured onto the attendants legs from the open wound on his stomach. He dropped his weapon and grabbed the wound, as if to keep the blood from seeping through his fingers. Roose made another thrust, and drove his sword deep into the mans chest, pushing him off his horse.

Donnor was busy with the dwarf who, for his short size was holding his own on horseback. The squires meanwhile were struggling from the guard, and one of them managed to free himself, grabbing the guards weapon and wrestling it from his hands before stabbing him in the face. The other guard simply cut his squires throat in response and attacked the young lad. All over the trap had gone to the seven hells.

That was when Brennen cried out, and Roose turned to see a bolt shaft sticking out of his shoulder. Looking to the ridge where the others had ridden off however, it wasn't Harlon holding the crossbow. It was Mark. The swornsword of House Baine slumped over off of his horse and collapsed to the ground, Ser Walder ignoring him and turning to Lord Roose.

One look at the Sers expression was all the encouragement to fight that Roose might have needed after such a betrayal. The two men rode hard at each other and quickly came to blows. Parries, thrusts, ripostes, the men were well accustomed to fighting each other from when they were trained as boys. Roose still couldn't believe this was happening. Behind him, the second squire fell dead though he didn't know. The boy had received a half a dozen slashes to the chest before finally collapsing. Donnor meanwhile, managed to grab hold of the dwarf and pull him to the ground a moment later. Koroxhar though made the mistake of reaching for his fallen sword, and quickly lost a hand to the Axe of Brandonborough. After that, Donnor simply stepped on him to keep him from struggling.

The screams of the foreigner swept over the forest while the last of the Dreadguard sped hard towards Mark upon his horse.Roose and Walder however, were still clashing on horseback when Roose caught Walders blow, and grabbed hold of his hand. Walder hadn't expected to be bested, not after winning handily the last fight with Roose.

But Roose didn't expect Mark's last bolt, which slammed into his side. Gasping for air in the shock, the Lord of the Dreadfort keeled over and fell to the ground, dragging Ser Walder with him. Roose lost hold of his blade as they fell to the ground, but Walder swung again, and cut through the side of Rooses' face before the blade buried itself halfway into the ground.

Walder tried to free his blade but to no avail at first. Roose struggled beneath him to get up, but the blood pouring into his eye blinded him and the bolt in his ribs kept him flat on the ground. One of the other guardsmen was moving to Walder now and rushed to protect his lord. On the second try however, the blade merely wiggled in place and Roose rolled to his other side to escape, blood streaming down over his face as it pressed into the mud. By Ser Walders third attempt, the guardsman was open him - but the blade came free and he blocked the first blow. And the second blow, and the third.

Mark let out something of a scream as the guardsmen cut open his chest with a swing from horseback. It was on the fourth blow that his sword broke, the iron weak from clashing with Brennen and Roose so handily already. The strike however, was wide and Walder managed to tuck inside the blow, driving the broken shaft of his blade up under the chin of the guardsman.

Donnor grabbed the dwarf off the guard, and held his axe to his neck. "Step away from m'Lord." He commanded.

"Kill the dwarf." Ser Walder spat, as he grabbed Roose to his feet and held the broken shaft of his sword to his throat. Roose swayed as he was held up and whispered something under his breath.

"What?" Walder asked, leaning closer to Rooses head.

"We were friends once and now you've betrayed me." Roose managed.

"Betrayed you? I would have killed for you. I would have died for you. You betrayed me." Ser Walder said through a hoarse voice.

"You wanted to kill my Mother."

"I didn't know anything about that."

"Our families slaughtered the Starks and their bannermen!" Roose yelled, grabbing onto Ser Walders arm. "All my life I've been reminded of that. All our life. We were supposed to change that." he said.

"We would have!"

"Like this?" Roose asked, pressing the blade harder against his throat. "hmmm? like this?" he asked again.

"I ... I don't."

"If you don't want to redeem our Houses anymore ... then kill me."

"Of course I want to save our Houses."

"Kill me and my House will die and Donnor will kill you and with you, the last shred of a hope for House Frey."

"Roose, don't"

"No! That's what this is. Your honour and mine. Your suffering and mine. Your House and Mine."

Ser Walder was silent. Donnor was silent. Even the wounded Mark and the maimed Koroxhar were silent.

"Gods damn you Roose. Gods send you to the seven hells."

Ser Walder dropped his blade, and fell back upon the ground.

"M'Lord!" Donnor yelled, pushing the dwarf to the ground and rushing to his liege. Brennen was slow to his feet, the bolt still sticking from his shoulder, but managed to take a few steps forward. With a quick turn of his wrist, his blade was angled right above Ser Walders heart. The Ser didn't move. He lay on the ground, and wept for his love, his House, and his friend.

Dr Pearceson · May 3, 2014

Great AAR. That last chapter was so dramatic. Poor Ser Walder, i pity the man

ATempler · May 3, 2014

addsub said:
Not a bad match brings you another hold fast and bannermen!

Agreed, although when I first looked for a betrothal I thought I had matched to the heir of Flint's Fingers- a High Lordship. As it turns out, I got the wrong Flint girl. Worked out fine enough in the end though.

Dr Pearceson said:
Great AAR. That last chapter was so dramatic. Poor Ser Walder, i pity the man

Thanks! I realized only as he was implicated and then arrested in game that I hadn't made any note of him besides the wedding which made the writing a bit harder to be meaningful, when he was a new character. As it turns out they were even of a similar age, although I think Walder was maybe two or three years older than Roose? Keep in mind, Roose is 17 here and Walder is about 20 I think.

How was the writing though? Anything to improve on? It's been a long time since I wrote properly.

Edit: Roose was actually 15 at the time so Ser Walder Frey was 18.

ATempler · May 4, 2014

Chapter VI - Coming of Age

Note - Perra is dead I just didnt have a different screen grab.

The ride back to the Dreadfort was hard and fast. I don't remember much of it. Truth be told, I was not even awake by the time we passed Weeping. On my return, there was much to discuss and set in order. Maester Alester was unsure if I would make it through the week. Master Roose was less sure about the night. The first raven was to Lady Kyra, asking her presence. The second, was to Lady Alys of the Karhold. I knew little of her, but I seemed to recall from conversations with Mother that she was a proud woman, but a kind one who loved her children. Torren Karstark, her son, was only three and already said to be strong as boys twice his age.

My heir, Eddard, was betrothed to Leana Karstark. She was six, though Eddard had just seen one, and truth be told I knew little of her. Politically, it would be a good match and secure the Dreadfort a valuable ally in the future.

Lady Kyra arrived just a few days after the match was arranged. I did not meet her at first. I asked for another day to rest before I received. Naturally though the Maester had only managed to delay her for an hour before she came to me.

Our reunion was a happy one, though she would not let me explain how my wound had come to pass. I never thought to ask why. Of course Master Roose told me later that he had explained, excluding what was unnecessary. She waited by my side while I recovered through the day. The day turned into a week, and the week turned into a month and by then I was up and about again, though my wounds had yet to heal and I had to be careful. I gave the charge over the prisoners to Master Roose, and ordered their trials to begin.

News from the rest of the country though, didn't slow for my injury, and I'm told that my fight and arrest of the conspirators was quite the story in Winterfell, at least until larger plots were discovered. Specifically, that Alys of Karhold had gathered some members of court, and that together they had murdered the Queen.

We didn't hear what terrible wroth Arthor had brought upon the conspirators, but soon enough we had more word from Winterfell. The Kings own brother had sent a raven.

I ordered the raven killed and it, along with the message burned. Our friends at court went uninformed, and a host of ravens were sent out from the tower with trivial matters enclosed to various lords of the North, hopefully to confuse anyone who watched and looked for if the raven was received. I hesitated at first but decided against informing the King. I would have no part of his brothers treason but ... he had usurped my seat at Winterfell when I was young. If his family killed him for the throne, then it was a just reward for a man who had no claim.

Mine was weaker than my brothers, I still felt, so I continued my own measures, away from prying eyes. I did not want the throne, and for the time being, justice in the Dreadfort needed its due. The trials had proceeded quickly, and soon enough I was dealing the judgement.

Ser Walder Frey was sent to the Wall. Lord Wihltred, my Hand, had requested his execution after pronouncing guilt but I had had much time to consider what happened the day he was captured, and I was wounded. Whether I really believed him, or if I just wanted to given our history was something I still wonder. At the time though, I spared his life and sent him to the Wall. They would need good men. Jon Snow needed good men. Ser Walder was one of them, and maybe he would prove useful on the Wall.

Mark, the bastard who had struck me with the crossbow, had died in his cell from the wound to his chest. It didn't take much longer for the others to receive their fate either. Arwyn, was first among them.

Soon enough only Rodrik, Rodwell and Koroxhar were left in my dungeon. Rodrik was my Father-in-law and was condemned to rot in prison. Rodwell however was released after the incompetence of Lord Wihltred had botched the conviction.

I had him dragged through to the edge of my lands, and only after leaving would he be unbound and brought to his feet, pushed out into the North. A free man, but a naked one without a friend, cloth or coin to his name. I hoped he would die soon after but he was more resilient than I'd expected. I heard later that he found his way in the court of the Ryswells of the Barrowlands. Given the power they were soon to command, I could only imagine what trouble this would give me in the future.

By then, I discovered that one of my nights with my wife had resulted in a child, and her belly grew as she remained in the Dreadfort. Despite the Maesters expectations, my wound persisted and refused to heal. He blamed my constant training with Master Roose, but I blamed his incompetence. First he expected me to die and then he expected me to heal quickly and was wrong on both accounts. Had he been a wiser man, perhaps he would really know what would happen.

Nonetheless, with Rodrik and Koroxhar locked in the dungeon and justice served on all but one of the conspirators, the Dreadfort was a much safer place for my family. The story of the arrests had only furthered our reputation for justice under my rule, and few ill characters presented themselves to my court. Between my Mother, Master Roose and myself, none of them were given leave to remain.

Before the end of the year, shortly after the birth of my daughter, Lacey Bolton and my 17th Name Day, I threw a great feast at the Dreadfort, with my wife, vassals and all the court in attendance. It was a grand affair, and I couldn't remember the last time I had seen such an exorbitant amount of food, nor heard such fine music in my own halls.

With everyone in attendance, it was a wonderful night, and I was sure to pay thanks to those who had been good and loyal friends thus far. It was a good thing I had done so too. The following morning, Master Roose was found to have passed to the Gods in his sleep.

I mourned my friend, and teacher. Kyra was good at comforting me. Better than Mother was, to my surprise. She had this way about her, Kyra that is, that anything that stressed me, anything that saddened me seem to go when I spoke, and walked with her through the castle. I had never known anyone like her, and she told me how she had mourned when her father had died some years ago. We talked more and more with every day and soon enough were discussing Lacey's future.

Eventually, we settled on a match with the Glovers. Galbert Glover was near the end of his life, and his heir Jeor Glover sounded to be a proud, talkative young boy of four. His mother, a young woman half Galberts age was handling most of the affairs since the Lord himself had taken to drink after the hardships from the Young Wolf onwards.

It wasn't much longer after that, in the third month of the new year, 319 years from Aegons landing that I was brought news from the dungeons. The lustful, depraved, stunted, little pirate, was dead.

I didn't celebrate as I thought I might, and I certainly didn't mourn his passing. Still, it was a reminder of what might have been on the day I broke the conspiracy. My wound still hadn't healed by my 18th Name Day a few months hence, but I was a full man now and had found bigger concerns than those alone at court. It was a good thing too. As if the Gods themselves had waited til I was ready, all of Westeros plunged into slaughter.

Derahan · May 4, 2014

Sad to hear about the death of Roose, but now leave your childhood behind and seek your future!

ATempler · May 4, 2014

Act II - Sharp Blades, Bitter Words

Chapter VII - Chaos Cometh

My injury and the troubles at court had blinded me from the rest of Westeros. It was foolish really. I should have at least had Mother or someone else at court keeping track of events in the south. When I finally did get around to reading the reports I'd collected however, I realized just what madness had taken the south. Madness, blood and slaughter.

It began in the reach, with Victarian Greyjoy and his nephew Quellon, just as it had done 3 times before. Having rebelled already and earning no punishment from King Tommen 'the Candid'- A better name would be King Tommen 'the Coward' - Victarian had decided to attack the heir to the throne, Tywin Lannister himself. The boy was young, I was two years his elder, and he had earned a reputation even this far north for his skill at arms. He was said to be a master on the battlefield, and in even more control of his own sword. Word said he was just as skilled as his kinsman, Jaime Lannister, in his youth.

With only the lands of High Garden under his command however, Lord Tywin was vastly outnumbered by the combined forces of the Greyjoys. Originally, he had fought a masterful guerrilla war against them, raiding and sacking what towns and Greyjoy strongholds he could. In the meanwhile, he sent appeals to his father on the Iron Throne for aid. The cowardly lion though, had done nothing but sit on his throne and watch from the sidelines, despite his counselors urging him to intervene, if only for the sake of the succession.

As expected, the war ended after he had fallen back to his keep when the Greyjoys brought a force outnumbering him 10 to 1. It was a lengthy siege by all accounts, and the first assaults were repelled. Eventually though, after months of attacks and raids on the castle, the Greyjoys made a massive assault as day broke and claimed the fortress. Tywin was captured in the assault after killing a dozen of the Greyjoy men as they encircled him. Victarion made sure to send a personal message to King Tommen.

Rumour is that the heir was tortured for weeks without end. When he was finally released, he was scarred from the experience and had lost his courage, as well as his manhood. The Kingdoms broke into uproar and it didn't take long for the lords of the Reach to rebel against their Lord Paramount.

With that, and with rumoured support from the Iron Throne, the Reach devolved into civil war. High Lords fought their vassals, and Lords openly rebelled against the Greyjoys in Oakenshield and Longtable, even as the Ironborn raided the coast and came to Victarions aid. A full year passed and the Reach bled white. By then, Kyra had returned to Flint Keep and news from across the sea brought tales of Viserion. The dragon had escaped from the grip of Daenerys, again thanks to Edmure Tully.

Whatever wroth Daenerys brought upon him, I did not hear. I imagined it was terrible.

Eventually, Tommen began to take steps long urged by his counselors. The Stormlands, no longer under direct administration by the Crown, was instead given to the Lady Brienne of House Tarth. She had earned renown over the years, though mostly in the courts of the South. Some rumours about relationship with Jaime were still told, I learned, but between the rumours of the Kingslayer and his sister, and these others, I dismissed them all. The man had died years ago now. Whatever he was in life, he deserved his rest. Brienne however, was quick to find her work just beginning.

I would meet her, if the chance arose I decided, but there was little chance. She was busy in the south and the end of the slaughter in the Reach signaled more trouble. Victarion Greyjoy lost another war, and for the first time in his life, was punished for it. He was stripped of all titles and it was said that in the final battle, he was carved from shoulder to hip. His fire priests managed to keep him alive, but he was said to be on the edge of death every minute of every day.

With his deposition, King Tommen did not wait to take action against the heir to the Reach and kidnapped Lord Paramount Torwold Greyjoy as the babe slept in his crib. The boy would grow up in Kings Landing, under the watchful eyes of the Kingsguard and with his life continuing at the mercy of King Tommen.

With the Greyjoys apparently humbled, King Tommens own brother became his next issue and slaughtered the Lannister men in Casterly Rock, writing later to Kingslanding that the Lords of the Westerlands called for his installment as Lord Paramount of Tommen's family home. Again the Coward gave in to the demands of his enemies, and brought himself weaker than he ever had with the loss of his own lands. All that was left to his name was the Throne.

The South had readied itself to explode in violence and devolve into chaos. The Greyjoys still held the Iron Islands, and the Reach despite their treason and now the Martells had Dorne and the Westerlands. War was coming, and I guessed that the Dornish would ignite the spark and press Myrcellas claim. With her on the Throne, her children, all Martells, would inherit and the House of Sunspear would control two of the Seven Kingdoms, and sit on the Iron Throne itself.

I waited for the violence. I waited for the war in the South. I waited for the ravens from King Arthor calling us to march on the Southerners as they slaughtered themselves. I had never imagined the first war of my life would consume the North.

Granted I missed the warning signs. When Lyanna Mormont arrived at my keep and requested protection from the Kings men, I had not believed it was anything more than the dealings of a small House and the King. She claimed that trouble had arisen between their Houses after Dacey Mormont had spurned the Kings advances. She had been in Winterfell, being considered for the new Master-at-Arms but when she spurned him, her House was attainted and stripped of their lands. Bear Island was given to House Lightfoot instead, the low lords who had made a name for themselves since they married the Kings heir into their family. Unless someone intervened, the North would fall to a lesser house.

I gave Lyanna a position at my court, and she soon came to me as I wandered the halls. She told me of the troubles she had with the Dreadguard, many of whom had proven lewd characters in her presence. I listened intently and gave her leave to do as she thought best. She was a noblewoman and they were here at my invitation. They would learn to respect their betters. I'm told she beat them senseless with her own hands. No one spoke a word against her after that, and not long afterwards she swore herself to my service in thanks. With the Dreadguard protecting my lands, and Brennen Baine and now Lyanna Mormont at my side, I felt well and truly safe.

But safety is a lie.

Lady Alys of Karhold came under attack by Kings men. She barely escaped with her life, while her swornswords and bannermen were not butchered to a man.

The banners were called, and the North rose up to their King. I received no ravens from the Karhold and for that, I was thankful that I was not called upon to fight the whole North. The raven came instead from Winterfell and I was given charge over an army risen in White Harbour, alongside Lord Wylis Manderly and Lord Howland Reed.

With overall command of the army, what was most apparent was the lack of troops compared to what I had always expected. The lords had less love of their King than I had ever imagined. Within a week, I learned that even the lowborn had no love for King Arthor.

We fought the smallfolk out of the city, and it was my first experience at war. I cut down a dozen of them myself, but my participation was limited. With command in my hands, I directed the fight, and we drove the wretched peasants from the city streets and into the wilderness. We gathered whoever else we could, and I gave chase to the lowborn, as Wylis put out the fires in the city.

When we next came upon them however, we found they had more support than ever and their numbers had more than doubled our own. I ordered the army back, and we fortified the city as they came at us again.

A raven arrived within a week with news from the Dreadfort. It said that Alester was leaving us for the Citadel, and though it grieved me to lose him, I had more important matters to attend to as the smallfolk brought the city under siege.

I knew little from the rest of the country and spent many hours thinking over the rebellions. I had been prepared to wait to enact my plans. I had been prepared to play the long game, and wait until I had allies, until I had support. Now though, with lords barely giving their levies to the King, the Karhold in rebellion, and the smallfolk in arms the country was in madness and I couldn't expect a better opportunity to arise for my plans.

It quickly became apparent though that I was underestimating the chaos we were dealing with, and that again, I had neglected to keep watch on the South.

*Author's Note - I've had a lot of free time this week and have been able to update every day, but now I'm going to be busy and will probably be updating about once a week. If there's anything I can improve on, let me know. Thanks for reading.

Henry v. Keiper · May 5, 2014

OK, been behind on commenting here, but I just have to say, the update with the fight in the forest was indeed EPIC. It was also very well written, with the character interactions and the set up. If you want suggestions, I might suggest mixing up the first person narrative with an occasional excursion into the third person, if only for specific events, like you did there.

Otherwise, enjoying it all the same. Interested to see how your nobleman will have to deal with the battle between the two giants of Westoros.

Derahan · May 7, 2014

Chaos breeds opportunity, don't be afraid of it because afterall it can be the one thing that kan grant you the crown in the north and maybe even the iron throne.

ATempler · May 12, 2014

Chapter VIII - The War of Three Crowns

Twenty years ago, five Kings fought across all of Westeros and it ended with tens of thousands dead, the fall of the Great Houses, and a King on the Iron Throne and a King of Winter. Now, the King on the Throne and the King of Winter gather their armies for a final confrontation. The King on the Iron Throne has an army that has fought the Greyjoys of the Ironborn and the Reach over and over again, and gathers itself once more. The King of Winter is fighting his own lords, and the smallfolk. Ever the opportunists, the Greyjoys have declared independence and crowned Quellon II of his name, the King of the Iron Islands. Despite their wars against the Lannisters of Kings Landing, this was the first time the Greyjoys had the gall to Crown themselves once again.

The war in the North raged hard and we heard of more troubles from other holds. The smallfolk were restless and the Ryswells refused to supply men to the King, as I had done. Given the Manderlys fierce support for Arthor against their own lowborn rebels, there was trouble between the two houses and word was the betrothal that would have joined their lands was now at risk. It wasn't long before reinforcements arrived and after a week of planning via raven, we met the lowborn fools on the fields outside White Harbour.

They had held us at siege for a few months before then. White Harbour was well prepared for the siege and the influx of supplies by the navy kept us well stocked. In truth, they did little but surround the city and make a few ill advised sorties against us. When we finally fought our way out and smashed them between our lines, barely a few hundred of their original number survived. The leader, Aethan, we took prisoner. In the end, the rebel had the better of the King.

Murder was the charge, and his entire caravan was found slaughtered at their camp for the night. Rumours flew about who was guilty. Many claimed it was Alys of the Karhold, who tracked him through a heavy snow, charged on him, and with his death lowered her flag of rebellion. Others said it was the work of shadow demons. Another claimed that the white walkers had crossed the wall and killed the King. For myself, I knew that the Kings own kin had invited me to a plot to murder him, yet no rumours seemed to implicate Prince Ramsay.

When we marched to Winterfell to hear and swear oaths to King Brandon, Ninth of His Name, Son of Arthor, of House Karstark, King of the North and of the First Men, Lord of Winterfell and Protector of the Realm, we found a new army assembled just in time to defend against the arrival of the armies of the Iron Throne.

A full 16,000 Northmen. The largest army assembled above the Neck since the War of Five Kings. King Brandon IX himself claimed command of the central column. Lord Howland was given command of the right flank, and I was given command of the left. Despite my struggles against King Arthor, his son seemed to bear me no hostility and excused the absence of Bolton men from the Royal Army. When I discovered Westerland men outside Overtown and requested departure from the army with my column he gave me leave to go, though only with my own guard. My post instead was passed to Lord Umber.

I was surprised to have been given leave, but was more so on my arrival to the enemies camp. They had stayed in place for more than two weeks. Not raiding, not pillaging or posing any threat to my lands.

"These are my lands." Roose said.

"Aye, they are. And this is my army." Martyn Payne answered. His face was stone and a great scar marked his cheek. He was crowned with red hair and had no eyes to read or regard. Only the gold silk band tied across his face, masking the holes that were eyes before he spoke against Lord Paramount Andrey and suggested that only a Lannister could be the true Lord of the Westerlands by rights. He was a man of average build and height. Certainly less fat than Roose had expected from a Lord of the Westerlands, given the stories he'd heard.

"And what is it doing here?" Roose asked, looking around the tent. The cloth of the tent was red, as any from the Westerlands, but it was sparsely decorated with a simple bed to sleep in and a small dining table that seemed recently cleared. Martyn and Roose were seated at a small table with a flagon of wine between them. A few paces from them, just before the entrance was a table with a map spread out, covering the North and another, covering the Wester of Westeros and the Iron Islands. It was different from all the other maps Roose had ever seen though. Strange bumps formed shapes across the map below labels of castles but they seemed meaningless to him.

"We are camped. I'm sure you can see that." He said. Roose smiled, whether the joke was intended or not.

"I take it this is no accident? A Lannister loyalist camps in the lands of the Dreadfort and makes no attacks against me. Given our Houses' history, I suppose it makes sense." He mused.

Martyn tilted his head slightly and shifted in his seat. "I couldn't speak for House Lannister anymore, my Lord. Word only reached us yesterday from the Royal Army." Roose turned back to face him.

"Word of what?"

"The Northmen haven't heard then? I expected them to. Maybe Kings Landing truly is the center of intrigue. A finer art than this butchers work, I'm sure you know." He gestured to the army beyond the tent. "Your father, and grandfather did." He moved his hands into one another and fiddled his fingers. Roose sat silent, looking harder at Martyn.

"If you're not going to tell me, then this meeting is pointless, and you can get off my land." Roose said.

"Ah but I will tell you. It was the last command of my King." He said.

"King Tommen is dead?" Roose asked, his eyes gone wide. "How? When? He was in good health last we heard."

"Yes, he was. Right up until his last day, not even a fortnight ago, marching north with 40,000 men. It was just before The Twins when the King met his end in a feast and meeting with his generals." Roose listened and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on cupped fists. "It was the Martells." he said, spitting as he finished. "The fucks came to him as he spoke with Lord Commander Balon." He paused and waved his hand to explain. "Kingsguard." he said before continuing. Roose nodded. He knew that already. Everyone did. Lord Commander Balon Swann was famous for his exploits against the Greyjoys. "-and his generals. In the middle of the meeting Andrey Martell, my liege -" he spat again before collecting himself a moment later. "- the Lord of the Westerlands and Casterly rock." he slammed his fist on the table and gritted his teeth, sighing before he reached for the wine. He took a deep gulp, and Roose swirled the wine in his cup and took a sniff before setting it back on the table.

"The Kings brother. His own blood." Martyn whispered.

"The man who blinded you." Roose said. Martyn took another drink.

"Andrey entered the tent and behind him came the Sand Sisters. Oberyns bastards." he said with another one of his gentle, explanatory waives. "First they killed the Kingsguard. They all had poisoned blades, like their father." he chuckled.

"Didn't do him much good." Roose smiled. He heard the army outside and some men walking past the tent, drunk and talking about a woman in the town. Martyn was stone faced.

"The first one who died, was Lord Commander Balon. A spear through the chest. The other Kingsguard were quickly killed, and before anyone could react, Sarella Sand grabbed the King and kissed him."

"Kissed him?" Roose asked.

"Aye. As she pulled her lips off of his, she slid her sword into his stomach beneath his breastplate, and up into his chest. Andrey and the Sisters fled after that. Andrey was caught and thrown in the stockade. The sisters though, they're still out there."

"I'm sure you took pleasure -" he paused "hearing that he had been caught." Roose said with a nod.

"Aye, I did. It was my men who found him, and you can be sure he was bloodied by the time we let him be chained to a post." He took another drink before setting down his empty mug. "The Kingdoms will search for them until they die." he mused.

"I'm sure, but no doubt they've all run off?" Roose sad.

"Naturally." Martyn said. "The only thing that's keeping the Kingdoms from war with the Martells in Dorne now, is the love Queen Myrcella bears for Princess Arianne."

"Do you think it will last?" Roose interrupted.

"That's not why I'm here. You're already the first man north of the Neck to hear about this ... Vipers Bite? Sisters Dinner? Whatever they'll call it. I'm sure the bards are already thinking of names." He said.

Did everything have to have a name? Roose wondered. The Red Wedding, the Purple Wedding, now the Sisters Dinner? How many more legendary tales of treachery and murder are going to come out of these years since the exile of the Targaryens?

"If Myrcella is taking the throne, and you don't speak for House Lannister any longer ... then she wasn't informed of her brothers mission for you." Roose said.

"Correct my Lord." Martyn said.

"But it obviously still has some relevance." He said.

"Shall I tell you or do you want to keep talking?" Martyn asked, gripping the arm rest as he turned in his chair to better face Roose. "Are you going to drink your wine by the way? The flagon is empty and I can smell your mug from here."

"Out with it, Martyn and I'll be on my way." Roose said.

"Are you sure? I'll drink the wine if you-"

Roose knocked the mug onto the floor and it clattered along until it settled beneath his chair.

"Rude of you, but fine. I see you don't have time for my games with the war going on."

"Not with a war going on, no." Roose said.

Martyn smiled faintly and let his head fall to the said as he looked at the Lord of the Dreadfort behind his red silk band.

"The Lannisters gave your grandfather the North. King Joffrey, and Tywin Lannister both - and now King Tommen was to call on you to serve in the same position."

Roose sat silent and stunned.

"You have a better claim than Brandon, his sons and any Karstark. The Lannisters sanction your blood, not theirs. Even the North itself does. You're Houses Stark and Bolton." Martyn said, pausing for a moment as Roose thought through what this meant. He had planned to take the North but not for his own. How could his blood, who earned their rewards through treason and treachery be rewarded so greatly? How could he betray the memory of his Uncle Robb, the King in the North, and grandfather Eddard by assuming their seat while the blood of their killers runs in his veins?

"As soon as this war is over, do you think the other Houses will let the North pass on to House Lightboot or whatever the fuck those people call themselves? Do you think the Throne will allow a messy succession to such an important Kingdom? The Lord who holds the North holds half of Westeros. He holds the only route into the South, and after the Nights Watch, he is the defender of the realm - because lets be honest, the Summer Islands, Essos, Southyros, none of them are threatening the Queen anytime soon. But all these talks of White Walkers? of the Wildlings marshaling an army since before the War of the Five Kings? Do you think they'll see that defence so easily threatened and collapse?"

"White Walkers is it? Is that what you want me to tell the Ryswells, the Umbers and the Reeds before they laugh me out of Winterfell and declare for my brother Brenett Stark?"

"I don't want you to do anything. For all I care, all of you Northerners can do what you like as long as you stay out of the South. But what King Tommen, what my true liege ordered, was for me to bring you this message. Seize Winterfell and guard the North until the realm is secure if you like, or until your brother Brenett comes of age, or keep it until you die in bed or with a sword in your hand - but seize Winterfell, and guard the North."

"Guard the North? That's the Kings duty. Protector of the Realm and all that."

"And which King is that? Tommen is dead, and never held the North. Arthor is dead, murdered by whoever the fuck of House pointless and Brandon is an incompetent with no future. Quellon? In the Iron Islands? He's been fought out of the Shield Islands by Lord Luthor Tyrell and the Reachmen are sailing on Pyke."

Roose looked at down at the table and the spilled wine on the floor. The blood red had seeped out of the cup and spread beneath his feet, gathering in pools at his boots.

"King Tommen was the true King of Westeros, and he gave that duty to you, to fulfill as you saw fit."

Henry v. Keiper · May 12, 2014

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNN!

Nice visualization of the pools of wine at his boots. Will the "Sand Sisters" appear again later on, were they just here for Tommen's assassination?

Also, I was thinking, and realized that I've seen Tommen receive a number of nicknames in various AAR's. The Fat. The Candid. The Great. Etc. He always seems to go every which way, depending on how the AI or player handles him, and the nickname is always unpredictable, it seems.

Another thought: how exactly does a blind man lead troops? :O

ATempler · May 13, 2014

Henry v. Keiper said:
DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNN!

Nice visualization of the pools of wine at his boots. Will the "Sand Sisters" appear again later on, were they just here for Tommen's assassination?

Also, I was thinking, and realized that I've seen Tommen receive a number of nicknames in various AAR's. The Fat. The Candid. The Great. Etc. He always seems to go every which way, depending on how the AI or player handles him, and the nickname is always unpredictable, it seems.

Another thought: how exactly does a blind man lead troops? :O

Thanks! I haven't kept track of them so seeing them pop up to kill Tommen was big surprise. I'm a few years ahead and at least Sarella hasn't been caught and punished. He was an interesting King. A good King, but it seems Tywins early impression on listening to others and to ones betters made him rather craven and he didn't do so much as revoke a title or even hold any of the Greyjoys in prison for their 3 or 4 rebellions. It was insane and I can only imagine how Jaime and Cersei reacted - to be truthful, I switched to Tommen and imprisoned Torwold because I couldn't handle seeing another rebellion go unpunished. Myrcella has the brave trait though, so we'll see how that goes.

And I actually mentioned that when I was describing the map on the table. There was a form of brail on the map so he was able to strategize if not run the actual tactics and thus lead the army, but not lead it in battle.

Henry v. Keiper · May 13, 2014

ATempler said:
And I actually mentioned that when I was describing the map on the table. There was a form of brail on the map so he was able to strategize if not run the actual tactics and thus lead the army, but not lead it in battle.

Ah, I see that now, I missed that, apologies.

CJMoore · May 13, 2014

It's hard to support a Bolton... but the way you've written Roose, makes it a lot easier.

So, is it going to be a Stark-Bolton restoration or a Stark one through Brenett?

ATempler · May 13, 2014

Henry v. Keiper said:
Ah, I see that now, I missed that, apologies.

No problem!

CJMoore said:
It's hard to support a Bolton... but the way you've written Roose, makes it a lot easier. So, is it going to be a Stark-Bolton restoration or a Stark one through Brenett?

Thank you! I can't answer that yet. We'll see where it goes.

ATempler · May 19, 2014

Chapter IX - Winning the North

The War of Three Crowns lasted two years. There was only one battle worth mentioning. After I returned from my conversation with Martyn Payne, the King led the army into the Wolfswood and fought a guerrilla war. Lord Howland and I had advised a march on Moat Cailin, to hold the pass before the armies of the Iron Throne arrived. By the time we had made a convincing case, we received word that the enemy had already landed armies on the coast and had outflanked the gate of the North. By then, resistance was barely a matter of outlasting the enemy. It didn't last long of course. Brienne the Maiden of Tarth led the Queens army North. She marched past the Barrowlands, past Winterfell directly to the Glovers lands.

In the shade of the Wolfswood we met. 10,000 Northmen were all that we could marshal then, the war having taken its toll. Brienne arrived with something over 30,000 men, and our spies never managed to give an accurate account. The battle opened with Lord Howland's right flank coming under a heavy assault by as many as 8,000 men. Next, my own forces came under attack from the Valemen led by Robert Arryn. Naturally, he stayed in the rear and mumbled to himself while his commanders led the fight and we fought a brutal melee. I expected to have been facing a similar number as Lord Howland and only after the battle discovered that I had got the better of it and was against 5,000 men. They had still outnumbered us handily, but we managed to hold our own long enough to hear word from the Kings column of 4,000. He had been struck by anywhere from 10 - 15,000 men, all Stormlanders under the Lady Brienne herself and was in a full route. Lord Howland had done little better and was making a hasty retreat after his rearguard collapsed.

By then I had little choice, and we began to fall back deeper into the forest. Despite the battle however, Robert Arryn pushed his forces onwards, long past the lines of the Lady Brienne and we met again under the shade. The fighting was bitter, but we managed to fend them off long enough that I sent a rider to Lady Brienne and to where I imagined the King had fled to. In truth I never heard from the King until word reached us that a Skinchanger had led him and his guard through the forest to the keep at Winterfell, but from Lady Brienne she demanded my surrender and on that condition offered fair treatment and the peaceful dispersal of my column of the army.

I had little loyalty to the King, but to the North, I was sworn. Whether this was another betrayal that would stain my family or was the only sensible course of action was something I couldn't consider now. I had the largest of the surviving columns and if it disbanded then the King had to bend the knee. If he bent the knee, then his rule would be weak and whoever was to be Lord Paramount would need the support of the Iron Throne. Support I already knew I had.

Naturally, the army disbanded and I travelled in Brienne's company a full week on the ride to Winterfell. We spoke at length and held a mutual respect, but it was clear that she was a better fighter and commander than I was. She had designed the battle so that I would be facing a weaker flank, so she could concentrate her forces where our commanders were weakest. I hadn't even realized. Robert Arryns movements though had been unplanned, but both of us admitted that it was all that had spared my men further combat. The day before we reached Winterfell, I asked her of Myrcella and she told me all that I wanted to know. Specifically that the Queen didn't trust me for my family history and the stain that it carried. Again I had cause to thank my Bolton predecessors. Whether that neglected the support I was promised from Tommen I didn't know, but that was an issue for tomorrow.

It took me an hour after our arrival to convince the King that he needed to bend the knee, and within a week the War of Three Crowns was over, and I heard from my wife that she was with child after one of our nights she met the army on the march.

And then the real war began.

It began in my 23rd year. I remember it began in the morning. We made clear our goals after capturing a group of swordsmen sworn to House Karstark of Winterfell. I offered to spare them if they swore fealty to me, in preparation for my return to Winterfell, but they refused. What followed was distasteful, but when twenty banners of flayed skin with the Stark wolf painted in blood rose on the flagstaffs crowned with the mens skulls, my intentions were clear. There was no ravens exchanged between Brandon and myself, for we knew that the war would only end when one of us was dead, and I all the more for having flayed men living against the laws of the North.

The declaration itself made the war all the more terrible, and Lords who had previously sworn to defend the once King now insisted that they had no men to spare after the last war. Such as it was, he managed to strong arm them into giving heftier levies than they had intended, but they were all the more cautious for my display. By now I had established a reputation to my enemies and while I valued that, I could not allow the Northmen to think me a cruel man. In every town that we passed through, we kept good order and often saw to it that whatever troubles we could alleviate for them, we did as best we could. I think it tempered the gossip, but soon enough it was made all the more dramatic.

An old helm was found, once thought lost. The last man to wear it had been a terror to his enemies and had no friends I could name. He was brutal, and a strong, tall man, but he was not so terrible next to his brother. The Hound, had been his name. Sandor Clegane had long been thought killed in the Riverlands. Now though, with his helm discovered and in my possession, it saw fighting once again.

game-thrones-hounds-helmet-wip-pic-heavy-tumblr_mgj5vbgotr1qafjcbo8_500.jpg-310651d1397280706

With the feared helmet in my possession, and an already brutal reputation, stories soon started to reach my ears of exploits I had not yet accomplished and atrocities I hadn't ordered. Particularly interesting to me though was the name I was given. I don't know where it started or who came up with it but I heard it whispered by friend and foe alike. They had started calling me the Flayed Wolf.

Such was war, and I let the rumours persist. If it kept the Lords in line, then so be it, and I soon found many a sellsword joined my army, intent on looting our enemies and claiming their plunder.

As it turned out, the following years were generally of little violence compared to those that came before. The largest fight was at Travelton, where I smashed Brandon's army. We had been hunting them through the North for some time, and they were clever, but my army marched swifter.

When we finally fell upon them, they were caught unawares outside the small town of Travelton. We had heard the night before that they were intent on departing, but our march through the night brought us upon them as they slept. We surrounded much of the army under the cover of darkness, and just before daybreak, we struck them with the cavalry and unleashed the bowmen upon their packed tents. Eventually, after the charge had been repelled by what few areas of resistance they assembled, our infantry rushed to the fray and scattered Brandons host. As it turned out, he had remained in Winterfell.

We took up camp in the city after our victory and the men celebrated well. Thankfully they fight just as well when they smell of ale and perfume. We remained in camp for about a week, long enough to receive the ravens I had neglected for the war as of yet. There were four that passed on to me.

The first, was that Mance Rayder had died in the preceding weeks. The Twice-Turned had taken ill and passed in the night after a vigil by Lord-Commander Jon Snow, Stannis Baratheon, Theon Greyjoy and Samwell Tarly. Why exactly so many illustrious persons had assembled was beyond me, but I would find out later that it was barely a fortnight after that, that the Nights Watch marshalled their armies and crossed Beyond the Wall. What their mission was, I don't know.

The second, was that Quellon Greyjoy was dead. No account was given, but that he was found impaled above his fireplace, and that a servant claimed to have seen Victarion Greyjoy in the flesh cut down the Lord of the Iron Islands.

Of course this was impossible. The third raven, was to say that Victarion Greyjoy had at last passed in his sleep, and it was dated to the day before Quellon's untimely end.

The final raven however, deeply grieved me. My son was dead. Little Leobald had ... he had failed to take breathe upon birth. To think that even after my great victory, that life was so fragile ... It humbled me and I regreted not being able to visit my wife and console her. For myself, I devoted myself more to the war and to my final victory. If I failed, House Bolton and Stark would die as Leobald had.

To that end, my mind sharpened in the strategy of warfare. I devoted myself further to learning its craft, its art. I spoke more with my commanders and bodyguards and tried to remember all that Roose had taught me, and where he had directed me for further learning. It was a long process and what started to occupy myself quickly became my obsession.

Eventually we departed the camp and returned to the offensive. There were many small battles and skirmishes that I fail to particularly recall here, but the next important battle of the war came after the army caught a loyalist force marching on my wife's host. They had already been defeated on the field and another blow would put the survivors at risk of capture or being overrun. That was not something I could allow for my wife.

We fought just beyond Winterfell, in the Winterwood itself. We slaughtered the enemy to a man, and I'm told that it was then that Brandon knew it was over and his life and lands were forfeit. Even so the war continued until finally the lands of Winterfell were surrounded, cut off, and the other Lords began to come to me and swear oaths.

In the end, the war had lasted two years. Brandon bent the knee in Torrhen's Square and relinquished the Lord Paramouncy to me in the sight of the Old Gods and the Seven. At last, I had retaken my place and the real work of repairing all that had transpired began.

From the Lips of Flayed Men - GoT AFFC Spoilers

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