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One day, a small boat emerged from the mist. It did not fly banners. It row openly toward the main shore. The lannisters tried to shoot it down but the airs veered away from it falling into the water.
Jon watched it having anticipated this possibility but feeling relief that it came true. He had his men wave the occupant of the boat over to their quietly maintained a hidden dock.
He rode down with a small escort. The boat held a figures.
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He was short with a staff longer than him with a bow slung over his back, and a long fur cloak that was green and brown. His face was obscured by carved wooden helm shaped like antlers and leaves.
A Green Man. He did not bow or kneel. But when Jon approached, only inclined his head slightly.
"So you are the one to call?" Removing his mask. Jon was surprised to see a man with mix blood. The long ear revealed it. He had children blood. He looked young but from the old aura he was getting he must be older than his lord father.
Still he had a youthful appearance mostly likely thanks to his blood that aged him slowly. And Jon knew he was old since he could sense the man was a High Adept Green Man, almost at Master rank.
Jon in his last life was only able to reach Low Adept, more of a Journeyman who entered that rank. The Children called his advancement fast as it took most decades to reach that even with great talent.
He couldn't help smiling as he remembered them keep on calling him a monster for reaching that rank in a few short years. "Yes, that would be me!"
"The name is Amergin, the masters of the Isle sent me wondering how you know so much of our ways?"
"Well would you believe me if I said I used to be a Green Man."
The Green Man inclined his head, his eyes completely turning green as he took him in. "You took the pact to protect the land but I do not sense you starting on the path. How very strange, the things you revealed could not be known by anyone else except an Adept and a student of the Children of the Forest."
"What could I say, I lost my powers," Jon shrugged his shoulder. He never had time really to reconnect with the Green and regaining his power.
"Well I would have to call it a tall tale then," the man said as he turned away.
Jon swore under his breath, "Wait," he said. "The lions burn the land," he said. "They choke the rivers. They would fell every tree if it served them. Will your order do nothing"
"The pact is broken by many," the man shrugged his shoulder. "Few seek to mend it."
"I seek aid," Jon said plainly. "Not for conquest. For balance. For time. If you provide it I promise you the full backing of the North."
The Green man turned back to him. Seeing that he got the man's interest, Jon continued, "I know you have lost much power of the centuries as the grooves get smaller and smaller with you unable to do anything. With my brother's aid, with the North, the followers of the Old Gods we can reenact the Old Ways. The ways of tree and root!"
The Green Man was silent for a long time. Finally, his eyes turned green again as he must have gotten a message. "The Master of the Wilds sends word: the beasts of shore and forest will not favor the lion. The Great Speaker says: storms answer when called in true need. The High Warden says: the old ways stir again in you, child of two bloods."
Jon felt something tighten in his chest. "Aid will come," the Green Man finished. "Not in banners. Not in armies as men count them. But it will come."
…
The effects were not immediate. But they were undeniable.
The next week, Lannister foraging parties sent into nearby woods failed to return. Horses grew skittish at night, refusing certain treelines. Twice, supply wagons bound from the west were found overturned and burned without sign of attackers.
Whispers spread in the Lannister camp. Curses. Hauntings. The Gods Eye swallowing men whole. Then came fog. Thick. Unnatural. It rolled in from the lake at dusk and did not lift with morning. Archers on Harrenhal's walls could barely see the nearest siege lines.
Under that cover, something moved. Shapes in the mist. Arrows loosed from unseen hands. Lannister sentries vanished between one watch and the next.
Jaime responded with tightened formations and doubled patrols—but confusion had entered his ranks.
Jon did not waste the opportunity. He ordered sorties. Small, sharp strikes at the edge of the fog. Gates opening briefly to send out fifty men at a time to hit supply stores and bring back what they can in food, retreat before full response.
It was risky. Costly. But morale inside Harrenhal surged. They were no longer merely enduring. They were fighting back.
…
Things became even better when one day, a letter carried by a rider who slipped through under cover of fog and storm. Aid was coming. The lannister army was pushed back from Riverrun and the siege was lifted.
Tywin had no choice but to fall back to Golden Tooth.
Jon called up the Green Man that stood in the castle and showed him the message. The man as he learned his name was called, Amergin. "Amergin can the Green Man hide the coming army and coordinate an attack."
The smile that greeted his face was that of a predator cat, "Yes, yes we can."
-
The dawn rose over Harrenhal like a blade slicing through fog, pale sunlight reflecting off the warped towers and blackened stone. From the highest battlements, Jon Snow watched the campfires of Jaime Lannister's army, scattered over the fields outside the western walls, wreathed in the thick mist the Green Men had drawn from the lake. The fog swirled unnaturally, curling around trees and tents, hiding anything beyond a few dozen feet. The Lannister banners flickered uncertainly in the early morning breeze, and already Jon could hear the sharp voices of officers shouting orders, frustrated at seeing men vanish into the grey haze.
Jon's troops were weary but alive with anticipation. Morale had surged since the appearance of the Green Man, Amergin, and the subtle, terrifying manipulations of the old powers of the Gods Eye. Farmers, blacksmiths, and young levies, armed with crude spears and bows, now moved with more confidence, knowing the Lannisters' reach was not absolute. Those who had doubted Jon's vision now felt the thrill of possibility.
And at the horizon, Jon's ears had caught the rumble of marching men, steady and deep, the sound of armor and boots against hard earth. Word had reached him the night before from the Green Man that Brynden "Blackfish" Tully had come with ten thousand men and was moving fast through the Riverlands, intent on striking the western flank of Jaime's army. Relief had coursed through Jon like wildfire. Harrenhal was no longer alone.
He turned to Amergin, who stood behind him on the battlements, short and green-eyed beneath his leafed helm, staff in hand. Hundreds more shapes moved like shadows in the fog beyond the Lannister lines, obscured by mist and leaves, yet their presence was unmistakable: Green Men, guardians of old magic, moving like ghosts. Their chants and whispered songs made the trees bend slightly as if acknowledging them. Jon had never seen so many in one place, and his chest tightened at the thought.
"We are ready," Amergin said quietly. "We will strike like the forest itself. We will strike where the lion does not expect."
Jon nodded. "Good time to land the last blow upon the lion."
The first light of real battle came mid-morning. The Lannister army, emboldened by their months of slow attrition, advanced cautiously through the fog, unaware of the forces moving to meet them. Spears and swords glinted briefly as they moved toward the castle's outer defenses, siege towers in tow. They were confident, perhaps too confident, in their numbers and discipline.
Jon's signal horn sounded, long and low, vibrating against the stone walls. Arrows fell from the battlements in a deadly rain, striking the horses of the vanguard and unhorsing men. Boiling oil poured in swaths, forcing attackers back. But this was only the beginning.
From the mist beyond the western woodlands, a strange chorus rose. Amergin's voice, joined by hundreds of Green Men, wove together in low, vibrating chants, resonating through the fog and into the hearts of men. And then the forest answered.
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Trees groaned and stretched unnaturally, their limbs thickening like muscular arms. Oaks, ash, and weirwoods bent down from the edges of the woodlands, their roots writhing like serpents, breaking free from the soil. Entire trunks lunged forward, smashing into cavalry squadrons, splintering wheels of siege carts, and sending armored men flying into the mud. The ground trembled as roots tore up earth, swallowing soldiers whole, dragging screams beneath twisted soil.
The animals of the forest joined the assault. Deer crashed through the Lannister lines like armored tanks, hooves striking shields and legs. Wolves darted from the fog, snapping and lunging, tearing at the heels of men who had been sure of their dominance. Birds, hundreds of them, swooped low, talons and beaks aimed at faces, blinding and distracting archers. Even the smaller creatures from boars, foxes, and snakes emerged from underbrush and wagon debris, sowing confusion and terror.
Then the skies darkened unnaturally, a sudden storm rolling over the Riverlands. The wind whipped across the fields, driving fog into the enemy's ranks. Clouds crackled with lightning. Bolts split the sky, striking the tallest siege towers, sending wood and stone crashing into the mud. Fires erupted where lightning hit, smoke curling and masking further movements. Thunder shook the ground so violently some soldiers fell to their knees, clutching ears in helpless panic.
The Lannisters tried to regroup, forming lines in the mud, but the earth itself rose against them. Chasms opened beneath their boots as if the land itself rejected them, swallowing infantry, horses, and supply carts. Spears and swords clashed against trees that moved with uncanny strength. Shields splintered. Men screamed as roots tore through armor, lifting them into the air like ragdolls before slamming them into the muck.
Then, a distant thunder rolled through the Riverlands. It was not natural. Jon's heart leapt as he realized the pact with the Green Men was manifesting fully. Mist thickened, wind shifted, and the first glimpse of the approaching Tully host became visible; ten thousand men, banners of House Tully catching faint sunlight as they swept across the fields, coordinated and disciplined, ready to strike.
"Blackfish," Jon murmured to himself. The name carried weight. The old commander had finally arrived and with him, the final blow to the Lannister's arrogance.
The Blackfish's forces collided directly with Jaime's center. The Lannister cavalry tried to hold the line, but the combination of disciplined Tully infantry and the strange, terrifying powers of the Green Men shattered formations. Horses bolted. Men trampled one another in panic. Jon's archers loosed devastating volleys through gaps in the Lannister ranks.
Jon felt a thrill unlike any other; fear and exhilaration combined. He raised Ice high, signaling his men forward. "For Harrenhal! For the Riverlands!"
The levies surged. Archers loosed volleys. Cavalry cut down the few remaining soldiers who tried to regroup. And everywhere, the Green Men moved like the pulse of the forest: emerging from mist, disappearing into it, dragging enemies into roots and streams, striking silently yet lethally.
Jaime Lannister, mounted on his horse and drenched in rain and sweat, could barely comprehend the chaos. His banners whipped violently in the storm as he struggled to rally what remained of his forces. But it was too late. The earth had turned against him, the forest had risen, and Jon Snow had called upon the powers that men feared and forgot.
By midday, the field outside Harrenhal was a maelstrom of mud, fire, lightning, and clawed roots. Smoke hung thick, masking the dead and the dying. Jaime's army was shattered. Those who could flee fled, and even the bravest of the Lannisters could not withstand the assault of Tully's forces, Jon's sorties, and the Green Men who moved like living trees, storms, and beasts all in one.
And as Jon watched, through the swirling storm and rolling mist, Amergin stood at the forefront, green eyes glowing beneath the antlered helm, staff raised. This was the power of a magic order. This was the power of the Green Men.
Amergin smiled, eyes glowing faintly green. "They have forgotten the old ways," the Green Man said. "They forgot to fear the forest."
-
Jon's breath came heavy, but his heart was light. He descended from the walls to meet Brynden Tully personally. The Blackfish, older than Jon expected, with a scarred face and eyes sharp as a hawk, regarded the massive gathering of Green Men with disbelief. His hand went instinctively to the hilt of his sword.
"And you brought… what?" the Blackfish said, his voice low. "A forest army? Hundreds of them?"
Jon smiled grimly. "They are more than men," he replied. "They are the old powers. I called on what men have forgotten. They are here to protect the Riverlands."
The Blackfish's gaze swept over Amergin and the other Green Men now standing around Harrenhal. Some shifted, leaves and branches moving almost imperceptibly, blending with the weirwoods that still clung stubbornly to the castle grounds. The Blackfish's eyes widened slightly, a mix of awe and suspicion.
Jon extended a hand. "They fight for balance. And for the North. And for Harrenhal. But mostly… for life itself."
Brynden clasped Jon's hand, a rare smile breaking across his face. "Then we are in their debt, Lord Snow. I thought Harrenhal doomed. Yet here it stands, stronger than ever."
Jon's gaze drifted across the courtyard, where the smallfolk cheered, and the Green Men melted back into the shadows of the woods, ready to move at a whisper's call. Harrenhal had survived. Jaime Lannister had been shattered. And the Riverlands, at least for now, had breathed free.
Amergin turned to Jon, bowing slightly. "You called, and we answered. But remember there is a price. The Order leader wishes for you to return to the Old Way, to adhere to the true practices of our religion."
Jon was silent, he knew what that men; blood sacrifices to Weirwood trees, fertility rituals, offerings, ancestor veneration, communion, and more.
Amergin seemed to see the look on his face and spoke, "The Old Way is true devotion to the land, the forests, the rivers, and the stones. The Weirwoods are our temples, their faces witnesses to every act. We honor the cycles of life and death, of growth and decay. Magic flows only through reverence."
Jon nodded, feeling the weight settle across his shoulders. A deal was a deal. He did not know how he was going to get his brother to accept this. There was a reason why they forsake this. It made them seem like savages. So to get better accepted by the broader continent, they had to set aside those old practices long before Aegon came to these shores.
After one to many crusades from zealous Andals you needed to compromise.
Amergin knew he was asking a lot as this risked Holy War so he added to sweeten the deal, "Our Order promises full support if you commit to the Old Ways once more. We have hundreds of Initiates, dozens of Watchers, Wardens and Speakers who wield Green magic, have warging abilities, and commune with Weirwoods to seek blessings from the Old Gods!"
Jon could see already from this battle how great a help the Green Men could be. If he had the full backing of the Order in their fight against the Lannisters then they might win this war. However the Green Men had a steep price.
"Our order masters will come meet you and your brother in Riverrun to discuss more!" Amergin said before he was gone into the mist.