From the Lips of Flayed Men - GoT AFFC Spoilers

[ATempler]

Yikes!!! So you're now the subject of the queen of Westeros, Slavers' Bay and Ghis? Looking forward to the coming faction madness.

As ngppgn pointed out, Myrcella only inherited Mereen, Yunkai and Astapor - the Empire of Ghiscar did in fact go to someone else.

Man, the Irone Throne just hates Braavos. Every time I try to play Braavos myself, it's like the minute I start a trade post on Westoros, and I don't have 100+ relations with the Iron Throne, it's almost immediately, "WAR! DIE BRAAVOS! DIE!"

And uh...wow. All of those in three months? Truth be told when I saw the spoilers and the hints at what lay in store when I pushed the button, I was worried Myrcella had died. A pity Daenerys has gone bye bye (I can only imagine the "severe stress" that would have killed her), but at least with Myrcella, things can still be quite interesting.

Indeed. Braavos needs a better security system if it wants to hold onto the money in it's bank.

Actually all of them were in one month. It was shocking. And don't worry, things will get very interesting.

Wow! This is a truly interesting turn of things! I eagerly anticipate the actions Myrcella will take with her new ghiscary subjects (and a political map of the extended Westeros)

A petty question (you know I'm prone to those) How is that Eddard can celebrate a feast in King's Landing? Are feasts always celebrated in the location of the ruler instead of his capital? I have never noticed that.

How are the other free cities business read: trade posts) in Westeros going? Also, is any of the slaver bay kingdoms/lord paramouncies still republics?

And the last one: What has happened to the Ghiscari title itself? The message say that Myrcella has inherited the kingdoms, but not the Empire. And who is Myrcella's heir now? And how is the new lord commander of the night's watch? Stannis perhaps?

1 - Yes, feasts appear to be celebrated in the location of the ruler which I too was surprised to discover.

2/3 - I'll cover that in the next update.

It's more like the twin kingdom of Westeros-Easteros now.

That it is! Although the Iron Throne doesn't really hold enough land in Essos to claim authority over the whole continent, unlike Westeros.

Weassos? Centralos? Esseros?

But yes! I've never seen the Iron Throne overtake parts of Essos before, very interested to see how that plays out, though I can only worry that it'll be a hassle with rebellions halfway across the world. Does the mega-war system work for Essosi kingdoms? Or do they simply act normally?

I believe the mega-war system does in fact work for the Essosi Kingdoms. I'm not certain, but I think I remember seeing it happen.

Who is next in line for the Iron Throne? Dany and Mycella were mutually heirs for each other, right?

They were indeed. I was surprised when I saw it in game but it made for a great story piece.



Thank you all for your comments!

 

[ATempler]

Chapter XVI - Heirs to Thrones

The aftermath of the news from Essos was chaos. As expected, Daenerys' will had little weight after her death and all manner of tale drifted to us across the Narrow Sea. Whispers spoke of Dragons scouring Slavers Bay of life in a massive funeral pyre, with smoke visible from across Slavers Bay. Others said that the Unsullied had unleashed their fury against the Ghiscari for neglecting their Queens wishes. Tale even told of a Dragon named as Lord of one of the great cities by the fearful populace who came to worship the beast as a God in the flesh. The truth though took much longer to discover and it was weeks from her passing that we truly knew the account.

From our birds across the Sea we learned that on the day of the Queen's death, all had been peaceful. The will had been read and order seemed secure within the city. By nightfall however, Mereen was burning. The Unsullied had broken into a brutal slaughter with the Ghiscari as Ser Temmo Drogikh, apparently a confidante and advisor to the late Queen staked a claim on the Ghiscari Empire and received the support of the High Septon who had been in secret commune with him for many weeks. The death of High Septon was naturally a just punishment but it did little to rectify the situation. In the midst of the chaos that struck Mereen, Daenerys' dragons had stirred and the three of them set the city alight, burning men from all sides as they killed one another in the crowded streets and great pyramids. Eventually, Temmo and Grey Worm came to blows at the gates as the Unsullied withdrew towards Yunkai and it was there that Drogon struck. Though neither perished, Grey Worm was severely burned by the breath of the Black Dread, and had led the remnants of his vaunted army across the Demon Road.

Abandoning the city while the dragons feasted on its denizens, Temmo's supporters declared for him in Astapor where he set court a fortnight later. Yunkai, under occupation by the Unsullied, swore to Myrcella as Daenerys intended - but Myrcella still held the titles of Astapor and Mereen in name. Despite his brief victory though, Temmo could not hold together the Lords beneath him - and so they fractured. The Zobradars of Monterys were among the first to declare independence, though Daenerys' friend Collocquo Zobridar swore himself to Temmo. So it was too with Ghaston Piper, who was appointed Lord of the Khyzari pass and Master of Ghadis.

All the same, the Iron Throne had little power in Slavers Bay and the Queens Agreement had even less. The Great Council the Queen assembled and called up once again in the aftermath of the collapse could do little but accept the situation. Slavers Bay was far from Westeros and the power of the Iron Throne extended only so far. Besides, with three rampaging Dragons, it would be best to leave those lands alone for the time being. They were divided enough to not be a significant threat, and for the moment they fought amongst themselves - with independent Lords in revolt, and a babe's regent warring for the Crown of Ghis.

Slavers Bay, was to be a charnel house that the Iron Throne would ignore for the moment.

Closer to home, it also became apparent that the carnage had affected the Free Cities as roving bands of freedmen and slavers and all manner of Dothraki, Ghiscari and migrants tore into those lands. Added to the carnage wreaked in Braavos by our own armies, Essos was engulfed in war. While the Free Cities were caught defending against these roving bands of thousands, Myr and Volantis were wracked with internal struggles as one side sought superiority in Myr - and as Volantis was reborn out of a dynastic collapse that began in the Fire of Volantis that ended the Free Hold for nearly six years and saw the dimming of that cities glory. Added to these troubles were raids by the Kingdom of the Stepstones under Monterys Velaryon 'the Honourable' and it all meant that the Free Cities were of little threat to the Iron Throne.

Of greater concern to Westeros was of course the succession of the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Though I could not influence the effort, I was surprised to hear that it was neither Stannis Baratheon, nor Theon Greyjoy, nor Samwell Tarly - all men of renown for their service and abilities. Instead, it was Gilbert Bywater - some Crownlander fool who claimed the gift of foresight from the Seven. At the least, he's supposed to be anxious about the fortification of the Wall and believed it was only a matter of time before the Wildlings marched against the realms of men. If that lent some urgency to his tenure, then it was not all bad.

The news was poorly received by the Council, and I remember myself in dismay over the non-election of Stannis Baratheon. Lady Brienne though seemed glad for it. Further debate amongst us grew over the appointment of the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and it was at the suggestion of Brienne, Robert and the recommendation of Dickon that Ser Symeon of Feast Fires received his appointment. The man was another fool appointed for a position he was unsuited - but I imagined that was precisely why he was appointed. Being one of the finest swordsmen in the realm was one thing. Being a slow witted fool was another. Together though they seemed a perfect combination for him. He was utterly lethal, and too slow for matters of intrigue.

Soon enough though, our debates turned to the succession of the Iron Throne itself and the lack of an heir. By now it was common knowledge that Dickon 'the Delicate' was both weak and impotent. Decades of marriage and not a child to his name, the King took after Elia Martell of so many years ago. I remember speaking little in these debates, even as hours turned to days. The Queen I chose was dead. The Queen I had was still living, and that was enough to satisfy me. Eventually, the Queen decided on a family relation and advisor to decide until a true heir was born to her. Devan Lannister was named Heir-Regent in the event of her untimely passing, though the years would not permit her much longer to bear her husbands seed.

The conclusion of this Third Great Council was profitable for my own House as well. Months ago, before these calamities, I had sought alliances with the Great Houses and at last settled upon the reach. Now, with Lord Luthor Tyrell in my company, I managed to propose one such match as I had hoped and betrothed his firstborn son and heir, Samwell, to my own daughter Barbara.

With fortune and the blessing of the Gods, they would spell a strong alliance between our Houses and Lands should either come under threat. More importantly, it bound my House to the other Great Houses and legitimized us still further. Eventually, any who doubted our right to rule the North would bow to the realities - the realities that we made fact.

But it was these realities too that consume us ... Looking back on it now, what happened was a mistake. It was a moment of weakness ill met by the opportunity undertaken by the Queen. This too, was a reality made fact - and today, I must bow to it, in shame and near regret.

The last clash of steel rang out in the bare room as the two men in plate lowered their swords at last. One, with a dirty blonde goatee and swept hair was clad in gleaming white and gold armour that caught the light of the only window in the barren room, high up in the White Tower and cloudy though it was. A cloak wrapped round his back, and upon it was the symbol of the highest honour in the realm - the golden crown on a field of white. The other was clad in black plate with a bloody wolfs face dyed and carved into the chest.

"Lord Symeon, always a pleasure." Roose said, smiling as he wiped the sweat from his brow. Their sparring was his greatest pleasure of late and it was not often he found a man better with a sword than himself. Much to his surprise, he had learned some things from the man and his singular devotion to swordsplay, if not his social aptitude. Symeon simply nodded at him, opening his mouth to speak before stuttering on his breath and forgetting the words.

They had been at it for hours already, neither admitting defeat or willing to give in. It was honour at stake, even if it was a private spar - and neither wished to prove himself the less capable of defending their liege. As one might have expected, the Queen's chief bodyguard had proven the better swordsman, though her Marshal had a quicker mind.

Their breathing was heavy as they returned their swords to their scabbards and Roose tossed his to the side, letting himself fall back into the chair one of his servants had brought. It was wicker and poorly suited to holding a man in plate, but it was better than lying on the floor as he had done last time. Made it easier to stand quickly too when the Queen approached to watch them, as she had taken to doing so of late.

"Lord Symeon, I have a question, if I may." Roose asked, letting his head fall back and pushing his hair back off his forehead. The man grunted his approval, and displayed his usual capacity for conversation. "How did you become such a great swordsman?" and so poor at every other aspect of life.

"Ah." Symeon answered in delight. "That is very kind. I worked hard at long hours for my sword." He said with a smile.

Roose smiled in return waiting for him to continue explaining. The Lord Commander however, did not. He just smiled.

"Very good." Roose interjected, trying to stir something of a conversation. There was none. "Well where did you learn?"

"In the forest." he answered.

"Truly? Was it the Children who taught you? I hear they can work miracles with anything from trees to stones, and even men." He asked.

"Children? No it was a man." Symeon answered, pausing as he scrunched his face. "No wait, two men." He scrunched his face again. "I think."

"Remarkable." Roose answered.

Laughter rose from the door of the sparring chamber and he knew immediately who had come. "Leave him alone." She laughed. "You do this every day."

"And it never gets old." Roose said, rising to his feet and bowing his head. "Your Grace." Symeon though knelt at once and kept his eyes on the ground. Profoundly loyal to her, if nothing else.

"Rise, rise brave fellows." she said, smiling. "Symeon, please excuse us, I wish to speak to my Marshal." she added as he opened his mouth. With a smile he nodded and left, quick to find new purpose at his Queens order. At that Roose raised his eyes and saw her as if for the first time over again.

She did not wear the red and gold gown or the skirt that betrayed her legs, nor the plate corset or a crown of gold. It was a simple dress she wore of plain blue cloth that was neither silk nor enticing. It was the colour of the sky on a clear day as he had seen over the bay, and beneath it he saw the fabric of a simple white gown. She bore no makeup and her hair was not combed and done high. It was down and natural, curling as it did in the early hours when he had caught a glimpse of her over the years. There was only her smooth skin and bright, gleaming blue eyes that looked at him with an awed wonder, and recieved it in return. Her golden hair framed her face and her smile melted his heart, even as he knew it shouldn't. He opened his mouth but couldn't find a word as he struggled to hold back a smile that for all his cunning, betrayed him.

"My Queen." he said at last.

"Shhh." She said, stepping forward and placing a finger on his lips. "Don't call me that. With you I am Myrcella and Myrcella only." He looked at her and lost himself as she touched his mouth, his eyes averting on instinct towards the floor. But she would not let him. "Roose." she whispered, caressing his cheek and lifting his chin to face her, refusing to let him go from her. "I wish that you would see me as I am." She spoke. "And not the woman on the Throne."

"Myrcella, I have always known you as you are now." he answered, choking on his words as he struggled to find those most suited. "I have always known you as a friend, and as my Queen. From the day we met, until this day and no doubt many days after, I will know you as you are." He said, taking her hand from his face and holding it in his. "But I cannot be who you want me to be. I cannot be what you want me to be."

"You cannot be what we want you to be." she corrected, leaning in to him and wrapping her arm around him. "I know that you want it. I know you struggle with yourself over it as much as I have. The fate of the realm, the ire of my husband and the shame to your wife, I know, I know. Believe me I know." she whispered as she raised his hand to touch her face and pulled the mailed gauntlet from his wrist.

For the first time in his life he was shaking. He shook with uncertainty, with fear, with love and with lust and it was all he could do to hide it. Like the forest at the break of autumn, he trembled and his resolve shook with the leaves. "I know." She said again. "The realm would mock us. My husband would hate us. Your wife ... Your sweet wife Kyra, I ... I don't want to hurt her." She said. "We spoke at my name day feast, do you remember? You caught a glimpse of us as you fought with Perkin Follard. Damn fool and his flaming sword. Burned his eyebrows right off, you remember?" she laughed.

But it was a sad laugh. The laugh that life knew well, and caused often. "She spoke so highly of you." Myrcella continued, looking up at him and grazing her cheek along his, edging along the corner of his lips. "She loves you Roose. She loves you more than I ever can, no matter how much I want to." With his free hand he ran it through her hair as her eyes slipped shut, and he pulled her closer.

He had come so far over the years. He had gone from a High Lord at the mercy of a usurper and his dogs, to the Lord of the North and the terror of his enemies. He had laid waste to armies and fought battles over and again. He had worked his way through plots and blood to reach the Red Keep and keep his family alive, and still he had restored another House to its place. He had buried secrets and countered lies, and made his own as they suited him. He had made a family and made them safe. He had come to serve his Queen, and sought to serve another for all his love and longing because it was all that was just - because it should have been. He had done so much, and now he could do so little. What was his life if not the pursuit of honour, if not for the return of his House? What could it have been? What would it be?

"Yes, she loves me. As I love her." he said at last. "And I could never tell you how much she means to me." he said, his mind calming as his nerves regained themselves. "I could never tell you what it meant to hold my sons and daughters as she smiled at me - what it means to know that she is with my child again. I could never tell you what it means to be the only man she has ever loved. To be the only man she will ever love." He paused as he brought Myrcella closer, and held her tight against his armour. "She is my sun in the morning, and my moon at night. She is all that lights my way in this bitter earth." He whispered, running his hand through her hair and turning up her chin to face him.

"But I won't tell you, because I can't tell you. Because she doesn't see that I need her to light the way. Because she doesn't see the blood I've spilled and the oaths I've soiled. Because she's blind to it, because she loves me. And because I love her I can't -" he broke as she locked eyes with him, and the purest sky itself peered into him. "I can't tell her who I am." There was a pause between them and silence. Silence that spoke more than the sweetest words.

She didn't smile and neither did he. All they could manage was a deep breath before the storm broke on the shore, and years lost in silence overran their senses and all the rules of the world. "But you know what I am. And still you-"

She placed another finger on his lip and waited. Waited for the moment to pass. Waited for the world to compose itself. Waited for what would never come.

She slid her finger from his mouth and brought her lips to his. For a moment, the world was forgotten, and all it was, was between them both.

It is not an easy thing to admit. It is not a proud thing that I hold dear, but it was the reality. I had loved her from the moment I looked upon. From the day we met and spent the whole night alone, doing nothing more than talking. That was years ago and now ... now it was something I should never have let it been. She was a Queen, and I was of false blood. Worse yet, I was a traitor to my wife - and to her besides. Just as my grandfather had been a traitor. My true and Bolton grandfather, who plunged an arrow into Robb Stark's heart - so too had I betrayed my wife for my Queen, and my Queen for a deluded Justice that death stole from me.

It wasn't long before I thought the God's had come to punish me. They were just, if cruel as my son had explained so many times when I ignored his zealotry. It comforted him, so I let him drag on - but it did me no good, and it did the Gods no good. They were just, and that much I could trust.

For a month I lingered at death's door. The Maester said I would not last. My will was writ, and I made my peace that before I died, I would have at least done what I had set out to do. It would have been a good life, and my secret died with me.

But the God's are just, and it seems they found use for me again, as the coming days would tell.

OOC - As usual, any and all comments/critique on the narrative part is requested. I'm not used to writing a relationship like this between two characters and I hope that, even though they are complex and Myrcella is Queen and Roose is chaste and in love with his wife, that I managed to do their relationship justice. Note too if you look at Myrcellas opinion of Roose it as at 100 by this point, just as his is to her though you can't see it. I can only improve with practice and your critique/notes, and the critique helps me improve faster.

Any other questions, I will do my best to answer.

I hope you enjoyed it.

 

[ngppgn]

Well, an intense chapter we have here, and the follow-up promises so much too!

Some petty thing to start with:

I loved the tales and rumors after Daenerys demise, specially the one about a dragon setting lair in a city and being worshipped by the locals. Tell me please this isn't an actual occurrence. And if it is, please give us a screen of it!

Anyway, I hope to hear more of the east in the future. Another thing, hoow is Devan related to Myrcella? Is he the Devan from the books? What other Lannisters are out there?

I was as shocked by the not-election of Stannis as the queen's council was, if not more. Lightbringer leading the upcoming war at the wall would have been epic. But well, seems like the fool's politic of reinforcing the forts was well-timed, at least! What positions do the cannon watchers hold at the moment?

In my opinion, alongside the relationship, there was another delicate writing moment of the update, and that was the interaction with the dim-wetted Kingsguard. It was convincing in fact, or would have being in any other case, but to me it seems hard to believe that a man who is depicted as not able to hilvanate two sentences or recall significant memories can be reasonably elected for a comand office, even counting on the fact of his "usable-like-a-mere-tool-ness".

Now, the relationship bit. From my standpoint it was good writing there, and all the reflections of Roose about hiding/refunding the truth are tied in, with the illness represented as effect of stress being a good point, and the actual interaction being quite vivid and believable -at least in the humble opinion of a non-native English speaker-. Only one thing strikes me as mismatching: in general the feeling that one gets from Roose internal hesitation is that he is pushed into the relationship by the pressure that having to build a "truth" around his family and court life puts on him, but it feels odd that he feels "like himself", so to speak with someone he was about to betray mere weeks or months before. Seems kind of hypocritical of Roose, and I don't know if that is intended, or not, or a mere perception of mine. I should give it a second read though.

Looking forward to the next chapter and hopefully the confrontation with the white dread!

 

[Henry v. Keiper]

I also liked the description of the state of things at the beginning. Personally, this is the part of mod AARs that I like - what I call the "canon free zone." Basically, you're so far removed from the initial characters/set up that things start to fully go their own way, and the world starts to take a life of its own. It's partially what attracts me to a lot of the Game of Thrones AARs on here: to see where it takes the world after a while.

Also, I literally LOL'd at the conversation between Roose and Symeon. My wife (who was near me when I was reading) actually asked me what I found so funny.

In regards to the romance writing, it was a lot more realistic and well paced than a lot of romance writing that people do. I don't know what else to say about it...but, you could have always gone the George Lucas route:

Myrcella: "I love you."
Roose: "I love you. You're so...beautiful."
Myrcella: "It's only because I'm so in love."
Roose: "No! It's because I'm so in love with you!"
Myrcella: "...so love has blinded you?"
Roose: "Well, that's not what I meant."
Myrcella: "But it could be true..."

*awkward pause*

*end of chapter*

 

[ATempler]

For ngppgn -

Well, an intense chapter we have here, and the follow-up promises so much too!

Some petty thing to start with:

I loved the tales and rumors after Daenerys demise, specially the one about a dragon setting lair in a city and being worshipped by the locals. Tell me please this isn't an actual occurrence. And if it is, please give us a screen of it!

It didn't happen then but it did happen earlier in the game and I had to work it in. Drogon usurped Yunkai from Daenerys but then she got it back.

Anyway, I hope to hear more of the east in the future. Another thing, hoow is Devan related to Myrcella? Is he the Devan from the books? What other Lannisters are out there?

I'll include more of it then! Now that the throne has lands out that way I'm sure it'll crop up a bit more.

Devan is indeed the Devan Lannister of the books who grows his hair and beard out. He's actually quite competent and appears to be close to Myrcella here. The Lannisters of Lannisport are still going strong but from the main branch most of them are dead. I think Lancel has actually gained and held onto a Lordship but he is getting very old these days. As for the others I'm not certain.

I was as shocked by the not-election of Stannis as the queen's council was, if not more. Lightbringer leading the upcoming war at the wall would have been epic. But well, seems like the fool's politic of reinforcing the forts was well-timed, at least! What positions do the cannon watchers hold at the moment?

I was so disappointed for him. He should have got it. You'd better bet that he'll be seen again either way, and some of the other Crows will make their appearance - because of that I won't give away too much.

In my opinion, alongside the relationship, there was another delicate writing moment of the update, and that was the interaction with the dim-wetted Kingsguard. It was convincing in fact, or would have being in any other case, but to me it seems hard to believe that a man who is depicted as not able to hilvanate two sentences or recall significant memories can be reasonably elected for a comand office, even counting on the fact of his "usable-like-a-mere-tool-ness".

Another big shocker for me here. When I saw his stats and saw that he was an imbecile I was absolutely shocked. His other traits seem to make him a very reliable bodyguard though so I figured it was a Hodor/Mountain is too drugged to do anything ever situation where he was a simpleton in every respect besides his sword skills. I was originally shooting for another angle on him but I couldn't do it justice and opted out.

Now, the relationship bit. From my standpoint it was good writing there, and all the reflections of Roose about hiding/refunding the truth are tied in, with the illness represented as effect of stress being a good point, and the actual interaction being quite vivid and believable -at least in the humble opinion of a non-native English speaker-. Only one thing strikes me as mismatching: in general the feeling that one gets from Roose internal hesitation is that he is pushed into the relationship by the pressure that having to build a "truth" around his family and court life puts on him, but it feels odd that he feels "like himself", so to speak with someone he was about to betray mere weeks or months before. Seems kind of hypocritical of Roose, and I don't know if that is intended, or not, or a mere perception of mine. I should give it a second read though.

Looking forward to the next chapter and hopefully the confrontation with the white dread!

Thank you for the feedback! He is being hypocritical and his convictions to what he should do are really conflicting with what he wants to do. Myrcella is an intelligent and beautiful Queen and while he loves his wife she is neither of those, and is of a lower station - but more importantly he has spent so much more time around Myrcella since his first trip to King's Landing that he hasn't been able to full appreciate his wife's company - it has been about 10 years since he became Lord Paramount I think and it was right at the start of that reign that he really fell in love with her. Now though he sees her sparsely, while he's around Myrcella a lot more.

Particularly though his comfort around Myrcella comes from the fact that Kyra doesn't know he's the type of man to flay Lady Beth, or bed Perra to hear about her plans, or to slaughter and look down on the small folk - or to plot to betray his Queen out of a misguided belief that he absolutely HAS to correct past wrongs because it's the only way his House can be redeemed in the eyes of the Gods and the North - to the point where it doesn't even has to be the wrongs of his House as we saw with Daenerys. Myrcella though knows him since he started making all these alliances with the Great Houses and the tournament of White Harbour, and she knows that he betrayed Brandon on purpose from conversations with Brienne as her marshal from when she held him 'captive' which might not be common knowledge - but she isn't a Northman and he doesn't have to prove his Stark blood to her. He knows the rumours about her, and though he's hidden the rumours about himself, he relates to that. With him she's a Lannister without the incestuous conception and with her he's a Bolton with a Stark Mother. More importantly though - with her he doesn't need to be a good father or husband. With her he needs to be a good, brutal and efficient commander which is what he excels at and feels more comfortable doing. Again here though, when he's with Kyra he's comfortable because he doesn't have to be 'himself' and can relax and lose himself - but when he's with Myrcella he's comfortable because she needs him to be 'himself' and be committed to war and strength.

I hope that makes sense. If I read it over and it's not right I'll edit it probably or if I need to clarify for anyone. I'll see about working it more into a future update too.

I also liked the description of the state of things at the beginning. Personally, this is the part of mod AARs that I like - what I call the "canon free zone." Basically, you're so far removed from the initial characters/set up that things start to fully go their own way, and the world starts to take a life of its own. It's partially what attracts me to a lot of the Game of Thrones AARs on here: to see where it takes the world after a while.

Also, I literally LOL'd at the conversation between Roose and Symeon. My wife (who was near me when I was reading) actually asked me what I found so funny.

Thanks! and that's good to hear. It was fun to write, and I'm looking forward to another opportunity to write Symeon. He might be the only innocent man in Kings Landing - if only because he doesn't have the wits to be guilty.

In regards to the romance writing, it was a lot more realistic and well paced than a lot of romance writing that people do. I don't know what else to say about it...but, you could have always gone the George Lucas route:

Myrcella: "I love you."
Roose: "I love you. You're so...beautiful."
Myrcella: "It's only because I'm so in love."
Roose: "No! It's because I'm so in love with you!"
Myrcella: "...so love has blinded you?"
Roose: "Well, that's not what I meant."
Myrcella: "But it could be true..."

*awkward pause*

*end of chapter*

haha now there I literally loled. I'm glad my writing isn't that terrible for a first timer. Hopefully it'll pick up as time goes on. I realize though that I used a lot of metaphors and maybe overly expressive phrases in there which will probably get tuned down later.

 

[Henry v. Keiper]

haha now there I literally loled. I'm glad my writing isn't that terrible for a first timer. Hopefully it'll pick up as time goes on. I realize though that I used a lot of metaphors and maybe overly expressive phrases in there which will probably get tuned down later.

Sometimes those things can work. Honestly, I didn't notice any overuse of those. Trust me, I've read some BAAAAAD romance writing, both in AARs, professional stories, and online fiction in general (go read the Harry Potter fanfic My Immortal as the prime example of this). Yours is hardly terrible. I wouldn't be so hard on yourself in that regard, and just keep on writing. If it gets to George Lucas levels, I'll let you know

 

[ATempler]

Chapter XVII - Wars and Rumours of Wars

News of the war in the Vale spread rapidly through the Kingdoms, and the invasion of the Wildlings added to the anxiety of the realm. Whether it was just the Wildlings or the White Walkers I'd been warned of, I couldn't confirm. The ravens were slow from the Wall and it seemed the Lord Commander had retreated to his study to meditate and commune with whatever patron he believed gave him foresight. With the highest Lord retreating into himself though, it didn't take mystic gifts to see that the Night's Watch would fall before the onslaught. We heard tell that Stannis had rallied the Crows to himself in the meantime, whipping the last of them into shape and with Theon Greyjoy and Samwell Tarly was organizing the defence.

Before his raven to me had arrived, I'd already sent Stannis an army I knew he needed, and by now ravens would be arriving across the North to gather an army under my son Eddard, making ready to march North with all haste. A second army, from the more Southern Lords was also gathering in preparation to honour my alliance with the Arryns.

The rest of the realm was quick to gather their armies in the chaos as well it seemed, and the long slow crawl to winter had left all the smallfolk underfed the last decade. While not near starving, the decline was noticeable, even amongst us Lords as our tables slowly lost a plate with every year. Only in Dorne, the Reach and Kings Landing did nothing seem amiss. Of course, the Reach now had troubles of their own.

The Greyjoys were keen to invade once again, and in the chaos, Donnor saw his opportunity to repeat the conquests of Victarion and Euron. He should have known though that Luthor Tyrell, was hardly his kinsman Mace, and that the Reachmen wouldn't forget their occupation so easily. Luthor was quick to leave the Capital with his retinue, and it was I who saw him off. It wasn't his first war, not like Donnor and he was ready. Had Donnor not left in the middle of the night to his own lands, perhaps they would have settled the war in the Red Keep itself, but he had left in the night. If anything about the war needed explaining to do it justice, that alone should have gone a long way. Luthor would win, I knew. I'd seen the thirst for blood in his eyes.

I was given no such opportunity though. The Wall was my son's responsibility, and the Vale was given to Barbara Locke. I knew she hated me for the execution of her parents, but if nothing else she did not know I flayed her Mother. All the same, I hoped she would die in the army as I left her it's command. She was joined by Qhorin Reed and Eddara Tallheart, among some of the other less approving Lords. Their approval was not what I needed. Only their loyalty. If they could give me that, or their blood in my war then I was all the better for it.

I quickly had my own issues at any rate in the Capital though Myrcella's solution seemed a better one than to kill my child. Consumed by the wars across the realm, I had little time to pay to her - but we still met often enough. It was, in truth, a month after she first told me that I realized that I might have sired the heir to the throne, should Myrcella legitimize our child. The thought of explaining it to Kyra, even as she was pregnant with another child of ours was a hard one, and I realized what I'd done - no matter that I wanted to continue. I could not explain it to her though. Not now at any rate, by raven and while she was with child.

News from the Dreadfort was good at least. Eddard had consummated his marriage, and it had borne fruit. While not a boy, the birth of my grandchild did go some ways as to lighten my mood in the midst of all these wars, and Myrcella too congratulated me on the event. Lady Brienne, one of the few Lord Paramounts left in King's Landing did not though. It seemed as the wars dragged on she was increasingly critical of me for not taking personal charge of all of them, and for letting the Lords concerned handle it. Soon enough though I learned she was increasingly critical of Myrcella, and blamed her in part for the chaos. To solve the problem, I simply barred her from our presence which did not sit well with her.

News in the Vale was well, though still little word came from the Wall. Barbara it seemed was a better commander, or at least more willing to listen to sound advice from others than I had expected. If nothing else, I could respect her tenacity and her string of victories continued to impress me. Even Robert wrote to me, telling of her capabilities.

News soon arrived from the Wall though, and it had been a long time in coming. My son had crossed the gift and was fast approaching the Wall itself, though a precious few months had been lost as a raging blizzard had delayed the army greatly. It explained the lack of word from the Wall as well, though it did not comfort me. A Wildling Invasion with the possibility of White Walkers seemed dire enough, but if a storm had delayed reinforcements then it seemed all the more likely that the White Walkers had marched with them indeed. I knew though that I could not bring this to the Queen. If I spoke of legends it made me look as if I was mad, especially if the charge proved false. If it proved true, I looked deceiving or incompetent for not warning her earlier. I could afford neither, what with her pregnancy and the realm straining her, even while Brienne seemed to jockey for her old position as Marshal once again.

The early birth of our daughter, the Maester said by stress, confirmed my worries - but Gods be damned if a raven didn't arrive the same day from the Dreadfort. My wife and my Queen had given birth to two children of mine, and now there was no hiding the truth.

The situation was only made worse when I realized that Myrcella had called upon Brienne as an old advisor and fellow woman to gather her opinions on what should be done. Naturally, the Maiden pushed her to legitimize the child - and name me the father. At first I expected this was her incessant devotion to her vows that called for the latter, though admittedly, I wanted the former. It's only natural I suppose. It would have been the best outcome for me, although it soon proved that it would have been better for us both.

When I entered the room, as Brienne left, I caught a grave look in her eye and rushed to my daughter. Cersei. My daughter, Cersei. The name was not a choice of mine, but Myrcella had loved her Mother dearly, and I could not deny her this pleasure after so many years childless. With the blessings of the Gods, she would prove as clever and beautiful as her Mother but those were matters for another day. That day, I was able to forget my troubles with my Queen and daughter, and it was not without a touch of shame that I penned my congratulations and thanks to my wife for our daughter, Kyra in the Queens own chambers. The raven departed that very night, but by morning a new one had arrived.

I was wrong about Brienne it seemed. It wasn't her devotion to her vows that pushed her for Myrcella to acknowledge our daughter and name me the father. It seemed that the real reason, was something far, far below who I had taken her for.

The situation quickly explained itself. When Myrcella had first offered me my position, she had pushed out Brienne to be closer to me, even before I loved her. Brienne had only realized later and bore it grudgingly. When the troubles had started, she had the idea that she could have avoided all of this. That if only she had been Marshal and had Myrcella's ear that all of this would not have been. After I barred her from our presence, her frustration grew to anger and personal hatred. When she saw Myrcella with a babe in her arms, she knew it must have been mine and decided that my daughter and I had to be dealt with.

It seemed that after following the armies and battles of others for so long, the Wolf would have his day with the Maid, and the greatest generals of Westeros would test their mettle for the favour of their Queen. I remember thinking of the song it made for when I rode out of the Red Keep with the Queens Army, and a messenger ran with news from the Wall. Some fool had led the Night's Watch out from Castle Black to fight in the field.

Some fool had just lost half the Night's Watch.

 

[siempie78]

Sometimes those things can work. Honestly, I didn't notice any overuse of those. Trust me, I've read some BAAAAAD romance writing, both in AARs, professional stories, and online fiction in general (go read the Harry Potter fanfic My Immortal as the prime example of this). Yours is hardly terrible. I wouldn't be so hard on yourself in that regard, and just keep on writing. If it gets to George Lucas levels, I'll let you know

I checked out My Immortal. It can't be real. It's too damn bad. So bad it's good.

(Volsemort and da Deathdealers made me laugh so hard)

Anyways, (now to the author of the AAR) I quite admire the writing here: you always avoid going cheesy and that's quite the achievement in what is technically a fanfic.

 

[Henry v. Keiper]

Westoros is going downhill. Again. Here's hoping it's NOT White Walkers working with the Wildlings - that's the last thing we need. But, if all the Wildlings can conjure is 3600 men (after the casualties of the last battle), then that 12,000 man army going up north should make short work of them.

I checked out My Immortal. It can't be real. It's too damn bad. So bad it's good.

(Volsemort and da Deathdealers made me laugh so hard)

It's somewhat of an obsession of mine. I would think it must be a trollfic, except I've encountered people online who were really like that. Either way, it's one of the greatest examples of canon rape I've ever seen. I've been tempted to do an AAR that is in that style...maybe do one for AGOT to make all the fanboys go into a rage...

 

[oxfordroyale]

Jesus, Brienne warring for the Iron Throne?! That was something I certainly didn't expect to happen!

 

[ATempler]

I checked out My Immortal. It can't be real. It's too damn bad. So bad it's good.

(Volsemort and da Deathdealers made me laugh so hard)

Anyways, (now to the author of the AAR) I quite admire the writing here: you always avoid going cheesy and that's quite the achievement in what is technically a fanfic.

Thanks a lot! I'm glad you're enjoying it.

Westoros is going downhill. Again. Here's hoping it's NOT White Walkers working with the Wildlings - that's the last thing we need. But, if all the Wildlings can conjure is 3600 men (after the casualties of the last battle), then that 12,000 man army going up north should make short work of them.



It's somewhat of an obsession of mine. I would think it must be a trollfic, except I've encountered people online who were really like that. Either way, it's one of the greatest examples of canon rape I've ever seen. I've been tempted to do an AAR that is in that style...maybe do one for AGOT to make all the fanboys go into a rage...

That far north, the enemy is more often the elements than the Wildlings.

As for My Immortal, I don't remember the last time I laughed so hard for so long.

Jesus, Brienne warring for the Iron Throne?! That was something I certainly didn't expect to happen!

That was my reaction! In the game, it was prompted by the Braavosi granting her a claim, but I didn't think that fit into Brienne's personality and tried to explain it another way. I played through a few times without actually capturing any screens just for fun before I carried on the AAR and saw Roose actually get a claim as well so I wasn't sure how it would go when I settled on playing for the AAR again. I'm glad it worked out like this though. From here on out the story gets better and better.

 

[ngppgn]

Interesting turn, that Brienne, isn't it? Anyway, I wanted to say thanks for enduring my monotonous questioning about game and writing details, I assume it can be annoying at times, heheh....

Looking forward to the night watch debacle's aftermatch

 

[ATempler]

Chapter XVIII - Brotherhood in Arms

​

The wind roared like he had only heard it several times before. Some weeks ago in the blizzard that blinded them to the approach of the Wildlings as they marched out to meet them, aye, but longer past too. It was as the roar of thousands of cavalry in a break neck charge against Mance Rayder, and farther still, the night the Blackwater burned. Today, there was no snow and the air was clear but it was hardly a blessing. It only made the air colder, and seemed to drive the wind with a dark and cruel malice. Even after so many years as North as he had spent them, it bit deep into him.

"We shouldn't have come here." he said, pulling the bear fur cloak tighter around his chest. "We shouldn't have met them in the field."

​

"No, we shouldn't." Theon agreed. The boy had changed in the years since Stannis thought to execute him. He wasn't a half mad frightful wretch. If anything, it seemed that he'd taken a bit of Ramsay into him after those countless days of torture. It shouldn't have surprised him. Ramsay broke him in every which way and barely stopped short of cutting out his tongue, though he'd done just the same without. The little Kraken couldn't stand for the taunting of his suffering after the years in silence, and something in him had snapped. Nowadays, the two were erstwhile companions, and at Stannis' regard, Theon was short of temper, and slow to claim his pound of flesh in payment.

No doubt he had changed as well through the years. His black hair that had once rung the edges of his head like a crown, had faded white and was thin, though he still cut it short. His skin had sank more around his eyes and cheeks too he knew, and no doubt it did nothing to help his brow as it had turned ever worse from frown, to scowl. His body had failed him at last as well, and Lightbringer took greater effort to wield with every passing month. If nothing else, the flame still burned as bright as the day he drew it, and his armour still bore the stags head in a flaming heart.

"We need to move, to that ridge, back the way we came." Stannis gestured, turning from the snowy field before them and towards the packed and trampled snow of a thousand fleeing feet. "We need the high ground when they come." he concluded, rubbing his hands together, in thick black gloves though they were.

"So soon?" Theon asked, throwing the hood on his brown cloak over his head. "They mostly come at night ... mostly."

"Aye, but this is a fresh kill. We're broken and they know it. We need to form up, and form up now." Stannis said, eyeing the black flags standing attention over the gathered and arguing commanders amongst the thousand men afield. There was nothing in truth to distinguish them greatly. Indeed, it was only by virtue of the flags that he could make them out at all, from the slumped, wounded and crying crows. No, not crows. Deserters. Traitors.

​

"We need to turn around!" came the voice of Ser Arrec Estermont. A far cry from his usual self, the man spoke like a wounded beast with his voice half broken and shaky. "We cannot leave Castle Black undefended!" he said, yelling and grabbing the stump of his arm as the silent sister Maege tended it as best she could. It was very nearly a waste of time. Here, with as much medicinal supplies as a goat herder could fit in his pockets, outstretched leagues from the nearest castle and nothing but his two legs to carry him, Stannis didn't envy the boy in the slightest.

"Ser Arrec is right." Stannis called as he approached.

​

"Castle Black will have already fallen. The Lord Commander assured me the Gods would see us to victory and now ... now they've abandoned us. He will have fled south, to Brandon's Gift with nothing but a locked gate between the Wildlings and the Seven Kingdoms." answered Osney Waynwood. The man, if one scraped for a definition, was still a squire at 30 and had failed to accomplish anything of note in every other aspect of his life. Now, he was quickly accomplishing the total collapse of the Night's Watch and the impending doom of the Seven Kingdoms.

Stannis scoffed. "It doesn't matter. We have a duty."

"A duty? Tell me, Stannis what duty is that? You are neither appointed, nor elected by your brothers for any commander here today. You betrayed the King as his vassal lord, and now you dare to speak to me of duty?" Jaime Frey spat. "Go back to the edges of the camp, and fuck that Ironborn bitch." The man was one of the four Freys in their company, though of the group he was the only blind one - and blind of a punishment deemed fit by Stannis himself. Bryan Frey though had managed to lose his right hand against the Wildlings just a few hours ago. Would that their wounds been reversed, and the irony would have been too sweet to swallow.

"Remember who took your eyes, and sent you to this frozen hell, Ser Frey." Theon growled.

"The Night's Watch is no place for a woman, bitch, and I can smell your gash from here."

Theon drew his dagger and grabbed Jaime by the throat. "Say it again, and I'll take your tongue for myself."

"Enough!" Oswyn yelled. "We can't deal with the Wildlings if we're trying to kill each other." Theon snorted at that and tossed Jaime back into the snow, slipping his dagger away and turning from the group.

"We have more than Wildlings to worry about." Arrec snapped.

"I know damn well what we have to worry about, Ser." Waynwood answered. "The Wildlings have overrun us from Castle Black, aye, but there has to be a way back to the Kingdoms." He knelt in the snow and sketched out his thinking, though the light made it all a plain, flat white and Stannis couldn't make out what was what in the plan. "We need to get back there now."

"Could we sneak back into the Castle?"

"Not a chance. The Wildlings are swarming over those forests, and we all know what else is out there."

"What about the Shadow Tower? Wallace Massey holds the keep with fifty men. We can collect them and march along the Wall to-"

"Commander Massey is a coward and a craven. He would never open his gates to this side of the Wall when his own men had not departed."

"What of Queensgate or Deep Lake then? They must be closest to us."

"Aye, and Deep Lake is empty. The Wildling garrison fled into the Mountains not five weeks ago."

"They what?"

"What else are you hiding from us? What forts are fully manned?"

"Queensgate is manned. The Slynts hold the Fort last I heard. We can make for them." Oswyn answered.

​

"The Slynts!" roared Walton Poole. "They rule it as their own damn Kingdom Oswyn!"

"What do you mean, last heard?" Stannis noted.

There was a brief moment of silence between them. "The Slynts have ... have not answered our ravens, or our riders for some time now. They were always ... independent but it's been different lately."

"Different?"

"Aye ... and it's not just them. Commander Sylies of the Nightfort as well."

"Sylies? I saw him not three months ago at the Castle?" Arrec spoke.

"Aye, and Gilbert threatened to tear the Nightfort down around him. He's broken his vows. A son, and a court of whores for his liking."

"We'll deal with them later." Stannis said. "But we still have a duty, and the time to do it is now." Stannis paused. "This might be all the time we have left."

A horn sounded on the edge of the camp.

"Brothers?" Theon asked.

"Must be some stragglers." Arrec gasped as the Sister changed the dressing on his wound.

The horn sounded again.

"Damned savages." Bryan Frey whispered, drawing his sword and pulling an arm around his kinsman to form up the men on the far sides of the army.

"No, Ser Frey. Those are white walkers." Stannis answered. "Oswyn, we need to form up on the hill." he said, gesturing to the rocky and snow capped ridge he had noted to Theon earlier.

"Aye." Waynwood agreed with a nod.

For a third time the horn sounded.

"Prepare for battle."

OOC - Shorter update today setting up the next one, and Book Two. I'm playing around with the organization a bit if you want to review the Table of Contents and have any suggestions. I think I will be keeping the set up of Books divided by Acts divided into Chapters - although they won't be of any particular length anymore I don't think. You can also probably expect more narrative updates in the future, to the point where they are near even with the more gameplay style updates.

 

[siempie78]

Westoros is going downhill. Again. Here's hoping it's NOT White Walkers working with the Wildlings - that's the last thing we need. But, if all the Wildlings can conjure is 3600 men (after the casualties of the last battle), then that 12,000 man army going up north should make short work of them.



It's somewhat of an obsession of mine. I would think it must be a trollfic, except I've encountered people online who were really like that. Either way, it's one of the greatest examples of canon rape I've ever seen. I've been tempted to do an AAR that is in that style...maybe do one for AGOT to make all the fanboys go into a rage...

If you do that and if it's just as bad as My Immortal, I promise I'll do a dramatic reading of it. If you'd like.

But I'll stop derailing.

 

[Mixaaah]

Needs more flaying.
I'm keeping an eye on this.

 

[Henry v. Keiper]

TEASE! I'm already hungry for another update. But then, I guess that's what AAR writers want.

If you do that and if it's just as bad as My Immortal, I promise I'll do a dramatic reading of it. If you'd like.

But I'll stop derailing.

Hmmm... *strokes beard wickedly*

 

[ngppgn]

"[...] the more gameplay style updates [...]"

Good, sir, either I must be under the spell of your words or reading the wrong AAR, for I have never found an update that resembles in the very least to a "gameplay style update".

 

[Aidun]

Negotiations across the sea, white walkers.. this AAR has become more a story than a report of gameplay taken place. Writing beyond the boundaries that the game sets for you isn't necessarily a bad thing since it will be interesting to see how things add up in the end. Just don't wander too far away from the actual events.

Could we perhaps have a glance at your character's family tree? I would also like to know the traits Roose's children have.

By the way, Aegon is - or in this case, was - Dany's nephew, not cousin like you wrote twice.

.. Now to putting little Cersei on the Iron Throne after Myrcella's six feet under. Keep up the work.

 

[ATempler]

Needs more flaying.
I'm keeping an eye on this.

If you want something more villainous then I can suggest Our Blades Are Sharp by oxfordroyale. Thank you and welcome aboard!

TEASE! I'm already hungry for another update. But then, I guess that's what AAR writers want.

It is indeed.

"[...] the more gameplay style updates [...]"

Good, sir, either I must be under the spell of your words or reading the wrong AAR, for I have never found an update that resembles in the very least to a "gameplay style update".

If I'm not writing it in the long narrative style I consider those to be leaning on gameplay style, personally at least.

Negotiations across the sea, white walkers.. this AAR has become more a story than a report of gameplay taken place. Writing beyond the boundaries that the game sets for you isn't necessarily a bad thing since it will be interesting to see how things add up in the end. Just don't wander too far away from the actual events.

Could we perhaps have a glance at your character's family tree? I would also like to know the traits Roose's children have.

By the way, Aegon is - or in this case, was - Dany's nephew, not cousin like you wrote twice.

.. Now to putting little Cersei on the Iron Throne after Myrcella's six feet under. Keep up the work.

Thank you very much! Some things may wander slightly or be expanded on, but it will follow the game in all things that matter. I can't manage a family update just yet though. Probably within a couple of updates though. I'll see what I can do.

That has been fixed. Thanks for pointing it out!

 

[ATempler]

Chapter XIX - Lightbringer

"Loose!" yelled Stannis over the ring of steel in the lines ahead of him. "Loose damn you!" he screamed again. The second time, the men heard him and released the draw on their bows, hurtling a dozen score of arrows into the dead men and their endless masses. It had been a nightmare from the start. With barely enough time to reach the hill and draw their swords, dozens of men had collapsed into little more than gibbering masses screaming for mercy and at the loss of the final strands of sanity. "Draw!" he yelled.

Ahead of him, some forty paces down the hill, Ser Arrec and Oswyn Waynwood held the lines, though Ser Arrec had had to tie a shield handle to his bloody stump and wielded the thing clumsily, swinging wildly with his sword in the advancing mass of rotted flesh. Oswyn was doing little better, and found the dead crawled at his legs and scratched at his armour, disembowled and cut in half as they were. Farther along the lines, on the left, no doubt were the Freymen and their crows doing their best to fend off the enemy while the blind Ser Jaime issued orders much like Stannis was. The right flank though had passed to Walton Poole, who seemed to be holding the line well enough. Stannis thought he could hear the man over the battle, even from the couple hundred yards distance as they were.

"Loose!" he screamed, watching as the arrows sung through the air and buried themselves in the endless tide. There was no doubt about it. The arrows were little more than a nuisance for the dead, and did nothing but stagger them a moment. No they needed something else.

"Stannis! Stannis kill the giant!" someone yelled. His head whirled as he looked up and over the plains. He honestly felt it before he saw it, what with all the snow kicked into the air by the army surrounding them. From the deep thud-thud-thud in the ground, he realized what was happening. "Draw! Draw arrows!"

"Cavalry to the front!" he quickly added.

"The Cavalry is dismounted, my Lord." Theon said next to him, his helm clasped down tight beneath his chin.

"Dismounted?" Stannis answered in disbelief. "Then mount them again! Now!"

A hundred yards off, he could see the faint outline of the giant in the distance. "And bring up the spearmen!"

"Alright boys, mount up!" Theon yelled as he ran behind the archers, grabbing some of them in turn and the spearmen behind them, even as the ranks step forward.

"Arrec!" a voice yelled, and Stannis' eyes drifted from the approaching figure in the distance to the Ser Estermont. A sword was buried in his belly as the poor knight sank to his knees. The corpse warrior was carved from shoulder to hip before him, but it had not been enough. It tore the blade from his stomach and drove it in again, and again as blood poured onto the snow, already thick and sloppy with hot, red crimson. An axe came down beside him, and cleft the hand from the forearm. It mattered not, and Stannis watched as a hand behind him grabbed his neck and pulled him into the ground, as his screams broke out and the gnashing of teeth signalled his end.

"Loose!" Stannis yelled. The barrage flung forward and he swore he saw a half dozen bury themselves into the giant. Clutching at it's chest, the beast fell forward and buried it's head into the snow, eliciting a brief cheer of relief. "Cavalry! Where is my cavalry?"

"Mounting!" came Theons answer.

"Draw! Draw the bows! Spearmen, move forward to the lines. Kill anything they miss at the front." Stannis growled.

"Theon! Get ..." Stannis voice trailed off as he saw the giant ahead of them raise its ugly, half crushed and rotted face from the snow. It gave a low growl as it pushed itself to its feet and broke into a maddened hurtle towards the crows.

"Kill the giant!" Another wave of arrows hurtled forward but a gutteral call shrugged them off.

It was little more than a mass of red and scattered limbs when the Giant broke the lines. What little remained of their own lines crumpled under the impact, and with nothing more than a swing of his arm, the giant broke mens backs and crushed their skulls before they could react. The dead men themselves simply exploded in a mass of gore or bone as the indescriminate attacks tore them apart. For the weakness in the lines already, with dread men clawing at their feet and dropping blows on them as any living creature would, the Giant was too much.

Oswyn himself flew backwards and spun end over end on his landing as the Giant struck him. The others and few that survived the charge broke into a wild pace to retreat and dropped their blades or axes. The farthest they got was three feet, before the Giant struck them and their lifeless bodies collapsed to the ground.

"Spearmen! Close the hole!" Stannis yelled. Behind him, at last he heard the hoofs of his riders laboring through the snow. They might not manage any speed, but at least they would fight from a height.

"On me!" Theon screamed as the men drove forward, barreling towards the lumbering giant as fast they could. A few struck out as they rode, slashing the corpse soldiers and decapitating the few they could as the men at the head of the column lowered their lances at the giant itself and pushed onwards. Among the middle of them rode Theon, and he fired his bow from horseback, for all the good it did.

"Close it!" Stannis repeated as the shieldwall moved forward and locked into place with the swordsmen either side the gap. "Draw! Loose!" Stannis yelled again. as another hurtle of arrows streaked through the air. Ahead at the lines, Oswyn through a hand in the air and rolled over in the snow, screaming in agony.

"Sisters! Get me a Sister!" Stannis yelled, drawing his sword and stepping forward. Even amidst the fighting, it seemed that the battle came to him as he clutched the blade and the burning light of Ligthbringer erupted, and cast the battle in his glow. For a moment, it seemed the dead were blinded, and they pulled back for just a second. But it was a chance the Night's Watch siezed, and lashing out, they carved down as many of them as they could. Even the giant raised his hands to block the light from his eyes, and the riders slashed at his feet and legs to bring him down.

"Oswyn!" Stannis yelled, extending his hand. "Oswyn get up. You're the Commander. Do your duty, Ser."

"Stannis … I"

"On your feet!" He wrenched the Waynwood upright, and the pair looked at the carnage ahead of them. Theon's riders were giving a momentary relief for them, but the archers were doing nought in the struggle and their lines looked near to collapse.

"You should have been given command. You should have been the Lord Commander." Oswyn whispered, horror strangling his mind. His hands shaking, the Commander reached at his feet and pulled an axe from the snow.

"Aye." Stannis said. "I should have." Oswyn took a few steps back as the shock among the dead faded, and with renewed rage they struck out at the Crows.

The Front Lines were a mess. It was a scattered duel between the living and the dead, and everywhere the dead were winning. They shrugged off blows and even rent or carved apiece, they did not stop. It was all the men could do to keep fighting. The spearmen it seemed were faring only somewhat better, using their long polearms to keep the vile things at a distance, and pierce the skulls as oft as they could. The cavalry though … Theon did not fare well.

The giant roared and the fighting flared around it, as if the dead and the living were driven mad in terror at the behemoth as it rose to its feet. On it's legs, bloody, splintered bone and ragged, grey flesh hanging limp like tassles on a maids dress blew with the wind. It's hands and arms swung wild, each the width of a tree trunk and strong with sinewy, frost bitten muscle. His first swing went wide as the beast still struggled to stand. On the behemoths second swing, it tore the legs clean off a horse before he pummeled the rider and the mans chest exploded in a spray of gore. Another swing broke the neck of a black destrier, and tore half the thing from its body. Thrown back, it smashed into the riders face as the body fell on him, cutting short any scream.

Even from the thiry odd yards he stood, Stannis was shaken by the sights and the beast itself. Looking down at his hands, he realized that for the first time in his life, he was shaking. But it wasn't from fear. Not fear of the beast at least. It was fear of failure - of failing to do his duty to his realm. His realm. "Men of the Watch!" he yelled. "Draw your swords." Slowly, the archers dropped their bows and knew the time was upon them to join the lines.

The beast was ragged, flailing around as its wounded leg cracked and split under the beasts own weight. It gave a wild swing, and struck the head clean off one of the riders, a puff of red marking his end. The other dead were cutting down the last of the first line here, and Stannis could see plainly that the center was on the edge of collapse. There was only one thing left to do and Stannis turned to the dozen score men behind him and the last reserve of a hundred men he held here. He looked at Oswyn beside him, and the man gave a short knowing nod behind frightened eyes.

"Kill these things!" The beast swung low and grabbed a horses leg, tearing it free and pulling the animal closer to get at the rider. Another swing and the destrier went limp, slouching forwards. The rider pulled back his bow and fired a shot straight in the left eye of the behemoth. Throwing its head back, the beast went mad and reached around for its prey. Theon Greyjoy found the beasts hand clasped tight around his chest and it lifted him high into the air, crushing his body and limbs for all to hear. With the last air in his lungs he screamed, and the rotting leviathan brought its other hand around and down atop his head, hammering his skull and neck into little more than a crimson mess.

Stannis forced himself to ignore the urge to hesitate. "Kill them all!" he yelled, his eyes wide at Theons death before him. The men behind him let out a great cry as they ran forward in violent terror and he joined them, Lightbringer raised high and a feeling in his heart as had not been there in many years. Fury.

Rushing forward, the crows slashed through the dead, and hacked away at their cold, unfeeling limbs. The riders, cut off from the advancing tide of men in black rode around as best they could, tossing spears at the giant as it thrashed about, blind and crippled on the ground. They darted left and right, striking the heads of the dead as best they could, but it was not enough. With every several dead they felled, one of their number was dragged to the snow and torn apart. It was not the death that legends told of. The battle though was a different story. Stannis remembered saying once that he would't be a page in someone elses history book. More so than any fight before, this would give him that so long as a he did his duty. So long as he did his duty. As if that was such an easy thing on these bloody, gore drenched plains.

Joining in with them, though it was not his place, Stannis knew this was the charge that would either buy them a withdrawal, or would see them fnished. If it failed, there was nothing left for them to do but die. If they won, the war went on, and victory remained to be won. He swung out with his sword as he reached the lines, and scythed through the dead like wheat. As if none of them could stand against his sword, Stannis swung and where he struck the dead collapsed. With fire and fury, he worked his way through them. All around him, the crows gathered as he struck high and low and parried and thrust deep with the burning glow of his holy sword.

As the column pressed onwards, marshalling on Stannis and following his lead, he wondered for the briefest of moments if this was how Robert had felt so many years ago in the vanguard. That had always been his brothers way, though he himself had always preferred to command rather than to lead. Now though, he could see Robert in his element. It was an exercise in muscle and ferocity, neither of which the man had lacked at the Trident against Rhaegar. But Stannis was no Robert, and had never had that strength in him. Not when he had been Roberts age, and not now that he had outlived his world.

Stannis disembowled the dead Bolton retainer before him as he turned his eyes to the thrashing mass of flesh, spraying blood from its wounds as it writhed. With an outstretched hand it reached like a fallen child, and growned in the dark of its blind, empty world. "With me!" Stannis yelled as he slashed his way forwards, towards the beast. He struck again, cutting down a Stark man and then an Umber and a Mormont in the endless tide of the dead. The giants reaching caught a paniced rider as he backed away from a half rotted crow with a spear, and in an instant it beat the man into the ground and split him from his left shoulder to the right hip in a peeled mess.

Stannis swung at the outstretched arm of the giant, and in a clean swipe it fell through as fire burst onto it. The beast let out a great wail and waved its arms in agony. Stannis was too old and too slow to have anticipated the beast as he was struck and tossed a dozen feet back.

He landed with a hard crack as his plate and mail split apart, already weakened from the blow and barely cushioning his landing, but it had not been enough. Blood dripped from his mouth - he could taste it, and his head was light and swayed from side to side as he tried to ready himself. Lightbringer … where was his sword? where was the flaming sword that had brought him so far? His vision was blurred, and he rolled forward onto his stomach and glanced from side to side, unsure if it was resting on the snow, or had been consumed by it.

"Stannis!" he heard a voice call to him. "Stannis!" it called again.

Stannis

"Get up Stannis, get up! We have to fall back to the hill, the lines are collapsing. Jaime Frey is dead and Bryan is barely holding his flank. They want to pull to the summit!" Commander Oswyn shouted, grabbing on to his shoulder and dragging him back as a trio of his brothers fought off the onrushing dead.

Stannis

One of the brothers went stiff as an axe caught him in the neck, and blood splattered out across Stannis' face and armour as he came to. "Addam!" Oswyn yelled. "Help me carry him!" The larger of the two men left drove his blade deep into the face of the skeleton as it readied a strike, and with a quick withdrawal, the thing collapsed to the ground.

"Aye, Commander." the crow said, grabbing Stannis and throwing him over his shoulder.

"Harys! We need to go!" Oswyn yelled.

The last of his brothers fell to the ground, his head rolling to the side as some wildling beast with a greatsword cleft it straight off.

Stannis

Oswyn rushed forward and cursed under his breathe as he blocked the next strike of the greatsword with his axe, and rammed the hilt into the leg of the creature, sending it to one knee. With a quick recovery and strike, he buried his axe into its chest and pulled it free, renting open the fur wrappings of its former life. Another beast to his left struck and he barely knocked the blade out of the way, thrusting with the tip of his axe and splitting the mans skull in half. It was the third creature that got him, as it lunged for him - ignoring the axe he swung round into its hip, and driving a crooked short sword deep into his stomach before it pushed him to the ground, and lept on his face. Another joined in the frenzy, and in a moment they had piled atop of him, tearing him apart. To Oswyns credit, there was no scream. For a man it was a good thing, and for one named craven it was redemption. In the end, it seemed, Oswyn had done his duty after all.

Stannis

He realized it wasn't a voice he was hearing. At least not his voice. It was a hoarse and parched whisper that called out to him.

Addam let out a scream and fell to his knees as a deafening scream burst over the battlefield, whining harsh and high pitched like a boiling kettle.

The crow covered his ears and his eyes blinked as Stannis rolled onto his stomach and looked for a weapon. There was nothing that he could see. No dagger, no rock, no broken arrow or wooden spear shaft. "My Lord! Run!" Addam yelled as the screeching ended. Stannis turned to look behind him and saw it.

Its skin was white as the snow itself, save for the flaky, pale saphire crystals that seemed to grow out of its shoulder, and shrank to scales across its left leg and over its chest. It had dark, unforgiving blue eyes, that glared at him like a man and wispy, frail hair which danced in the wind and shone like silver. It looked at him for a moment like a beast of myth. Standing straight, it rose taller than near every man Stannis had met, save the Mountain - and Brienne the Maid. Itas the beast lifted him up was barely clothed, save for a fur tunic around its waist and legs.

The air chilled in its very presence and as it walked towards him, he heard it hiss and saw teeth bared, white and all too human. Raising its hand in the wind, it was as if the air itself armed him and grew an icy blade in its hand, fully the size of half a man.

Stannis the voice called again. Instinctively he turned, as if guided and called by another to look ahead of him, and away from the demon. "Stannis go!" Addam called to him, drawing a long curved dagger at his hip.

Crawling forward with his one unbloodied arm, Stannis dragged himself through the snow in the chaos of the battle and left a bloody streak upon the ground.

Addam lunged at the White Walker with his dagger ready, but the creature was too quick and caught his outstretched hand. He gasped in its chilled grip as it turned his arm, slowly bringing him to his knees before it as it gazed into his eyes. The man yelled as the grip grew harder and the demon snapped his arm over his head. His grip on the dagger failed, and it dropped to the snow behind him. With the blade in its hand, the Walker angled it into his chest, and slow pushed it through his skin. Struggling for breath, Addam was silent as the creature pulled him up to its own eye level and grabbed his throat to throttle his last breaths with its own hands.

Stannis could feel the warm heat of the blade as he neared it, even through the cold howling wind. Fumbling through the snow, it felt impossible. He knew it was right around him, somehow he knew. Even so, it eluded him - as if it danced just out of reach, smiling and goading him on like a debutante. For a moment, he looked back at the demon.

Addam's neck grew white as frost crept over it, arching out like a web and tracing along the veins that ran through his neck and up along his head. The frost gave way to a bloody drip from his ears as the body convulsed. The White Walker looked enamoured at the beauty before it, even as Addam's corpse began to writhe with unnatural life, and tense with the dark curse imposed upon it. Releasing its hand from his neck, the Walker ran its fingers along the bodies forehead and traced them around its cheek, as if to wipe away a tear while its head turned enraptured.

Stannis! the voice yelled, drawing him from the grueling sight. As if the demon itself had heard, its eyes hardened and turned to the burning stag as he lay broken on the ground.

"Lightbringer ..." he whispered to himself as he threw his arm about, looking for the hilt or blade of the weapon as swift as he could. "Where are you?" he whispered wildly. "Where are you?!"

Stannis! it answered. His eyes grew wide and he spun his head. There, in the trodden and bloodied snow, ten paces away was the gentle rise of steam, miraculously ignorant of the storm that raged around it ignorant. He pulled himself towards it as best he could, his broken bones screaming as they dragged over the ground. Behind him, he heard the snarl of the beast and the sudden snaps of Addam's jaw as the curse took him and hungered for blood. There was a footstep in the snow. How heard it in the clamour of the battle and the ring of steel, he didn't care, but it was all he heard.

He pulled again and kicked with his leg, barely a third of the way to the blade. Another footstep, and then another, and the low growl of the dead followed him patiently as he crawled towards salvation. He pulled himself forwards, and again and then again as they drew closer, the footsteps and snarls ever louder.

He was too slow. A fist slammed hard into his back and were it not for the plate, he was sure it would have broken him. He reached out to crawl again, but it was too late for him. Another fist slammed into his back, and then another before what had been Addam grabbed him by the shoulder, and spun him round to face his end. It lunged forward to him as he raise his broken arm to defend himself, and the dead man sank his teeth into the chain mail of Stannis' forearm.

Stannis yelled as he punched the onceman in the face and buried his thumb into one of its eyes. With a feral yell that sounded like an ape of the Summer Isles, it reared its head back and struck him back hard in the face. Stannis was bloody from the first blow as it struck him again and again, and finally grabbed him by the throat and wrenched him into the air.

With his one hand, he fumbled at the dead mans grip but his strength was nearly spent. In a final effort, he raised his legs and kicked hard at the ghasts chest, knocking it back as he dropped to the ground, and threw himself backwards into a clumsy roll. He spun again onto his back and dragged himself the final feet, reaching out and siezing the steaming hilt of Lightbringer as the blade burst into flames at his touch.

Spinning over and scything out with the blade, Addam fell in two halves and collapsed, still as true death, to the ground. The White Walker screamed as it lunged forward, horrified by the blade in Stannis' hands and swung high with its sword of ice. The fire caught it, almost without effort as Stannis raised his blade and knocked the blow to the side, and rolled to his feet.

Stannis licked the blood from his lips and watched the White Walker as its eyes flared in … could it be fear?

He swung high with the blade as the demon rose to the challenge and held its sword to block - but the ice cracked, just as a thin sheet buckled and groaned over a lake in winter. Stannis swung again, low, and the blades met again. There was another crack and a chunk of the ice broke free while fractures jumped across its surface. Stannis swung again, and again, hacking away at the blade until finally, he knocked it wide and cut down with all his strength, chopping the Walkers hand off.

The demon let out a cry as it grabbed its hand, and all the living dead on the hill recoiled in collective shock, some simply convulsing while others erupted into wretching blood in the snow. Stannis hacked again and caught the demon in the shoulder, splitting its arm as if he'd struck a statue of ice. He stepped back to watch the fractures spread along the beasts body as all the dead on the field broke into paralysis or siezure and were cut down by the few nights watch remaining.

He thrust Lightbringer forward, and like ploughing through butter, the blade sank deep and effortlessly into the Walkers chest. Its eyes went wide as new fractures sprung across its body, and spread across it. It looked up at him. It looked up at him with a cold hate and yelled as the fractures widened, and the beast burst apart in dozens of shards that exploded outwards. Stannis was knocked back in the eruption.

Pulled to his feet by unseen hands, Stannis was ragged of breath as the armour on his chest and broken arm was pulled free or rolled back by a Silent Sister.

"You saved us all..." someone whispered.

"He was right all along."

"Not just for show that fancy sword is it?"

"He is Azhor Ahai afterall …"

"The prince that was promised comes at last"

Stannis

"Did we win?" Stannis asked through the pain and darkness.

"Aye Ser we won. If it wasn't for you we-"

"Good. Thank you Ser Bryan." He paused for a moment and grimaced as the Sister snapped his arm's bone back into place. Were he not so dazed from the battle, he knew it would have been much worse.

"Ready the men and burn all the bodies. We march before nightfall."

"March my Lord? March where?"

"To the Nightfort. We're going to cross the Wall and then march to Castle Black, and bring all the brothers we can field." he paused for a moment as he took a quick sip of water. "We have to meet the Wildlings again, and this time, we're going to be on the right side of the Wall when do it."



OOC - Hope you enjoy the read. I found Stannis a hard character to do justice. I'll be writing him again so if there's any advice on that front it's welcome. In the meantime, please go out and vote for this AAR at the AARland Awards if you haven't already done so! It's greatly appreciated.