The blow of a horn woke Castle Black in an instant, the men all leaping from their cots and reaching for their weapons. It was only after a moment when no second blow sounded that the tension eased and they all seemed to let out a sigh. Until they realized the only riders they'd sent out were the ones hunting wights a few weeks ago.
When Edd first joined the Night's Watch he'd never have thought he'd feel relieved a see a wildling walk through their gates, yet that was what came when he saw Tormund, even if only twenty of the thirty men he left with returned.
The yard filled with men, their hands on their swords as they stared at the writhing figures bound by thick rope being dragged by the men.
"We had three others," Tormund said with a frown, watching men toss the wights into crates. "One of the men hit a walker with a hammer, a full swing to the back of the prick's head, and the fuckin' hammer shattered. I grabbed this," he said pulling a small dagger from his furs, "and stabbed the fucker, and that made just about every other wight around us drop except for the four we got."
"That valyrian steel?" asked Edd.
"One of those lords had it, gave it to his man on Jon's command, but when he died I picked it up." Tormund turned to Edd with a smirk. "Think he'll let me keep it?"
"Not once the lord finds out it killed a white walker," Edd laughed, looking to the King's Tower. "We received other guests before you arrived."
"From the south?" Tormund asked skeptically.
"From beyond the wall," answered Edd. "Ones heading to Winterfell."
Though they'd recently gotten ravens telling them to expect riders from southron kingdoms, the men of Moat Cailin were shocked to find one arrive barely a day after they received word of them. The only place that might have received a raven and sent a rider by then were houses of the Neck, and they already had lords at Winterfell.
Nor would any southron houses send a lone rider.
When he approached the castle gate, a group of ten men were ready. The horse came to a stop and they saw it was an old man wearing a tattered cloak, his face locked in a grimace as he looked them over. His eyes scanned the walls of Moat Cailin, his brow furrowing when he saw Stark banners hanging beside black and red Targaryen ones.
"What the hell are those?" He demanded, turning his eyes on the soldiers. "Why are you hanging Targaryen banners with Stark banners?"
The men exchanged looks before proud smiles replaced their confusion. "We've been stationed here by King Jon on behalf of House Targaryen and his betrothed, Sansa of House Stark."
"What?" The man scoffed. "Who the fuck is King Jon?"
The men chuckled. "King Aegon Targaryen, but everyone called him King Jon because he spent his life in hiding as Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell."
The rider's eyes widened. "What?"
"Where are you coming from?" asked the captain. "What's you name?"
The man turned to them, squeezing the reins of his horse. "Brynden Tully of Riverrun. Now let me through to see my grandniece."
"Does that mean she'll be Queen?" Sweetrobin asked, sat on his mother's lap as she lovingly stroked his hair.
"It does, my sweet." Lysa's smile was etched with victory. "Don't you worry. She's in a love with the boy and says he treats her well, which is a blessing for one raised a bastard like him. Catelyn must have kept a firm hand if she managed to keep a bastard in line."
"Does he have a dragon?" asked Robin.
"No," Petyr answered, looking up from his desk. "Though it seems he has a direwolf near as tall as a horse." Seeing Robin's eyes glitter with wonder, Petyr's lips twisted into a sly smile. "Would you like to see it?"
"Can we?!" Robin bounced on his mother's knee, making her wince slightly. He was too big for her to be comfortable, but she couldn't deny him her lap either.
"I doubt they'll have time to come visit," said Lysa.
"I'm sure our new king would like to thank you for your support," Petyr said looking to Robin. "If our lord wished it surely his knights would escort him to see his king."
"I do!" Robin nodded to Lysa's despair.
"Perhaps you'll even be able to attend their wedding," Petyr suggested.
"When will that be?" asked Robin.
"Soon no doubt," he said, adding with a prideful smirk, "only the truly hardy find patience in love."
"We have to go!" Robin bounced more, Lysa shifting him slightly, a panicked look on her face.
Petyr looked to Robin with a sweet smile. "If that's what you wish my lord, then we shall visit your cousin and wish her love and happiness with her kingly husband. I'll speak to the lords and ready a ship."
Kneeling before a weirwood, one of the few remaining in the Riverlands, Lord Tytos Blackwood opened his eyes and turned to find a tall, gangly young man waiting for him to finish. Rising to his feet, his raven-feather cloak shifted around him as he turned to his son.
"What is it Hos?"
Hoster stood straight and made his way forward. "I didn't mean to disturb you, father."
"What couldn't wait?" He asked, his salt and pepper beard making him seem even sterner.
Hoster took a breath. "Winter came for House Frey."
Tytos' eyes widened. "What?"
"House Frey, all their men are dead. Poisoned by someone… pretending to be Walder."
"Pretending?" Tytos asked with a scoff. "They couldn't tell a fake from their father?"
Hoster frowned. "The maid who was there saw Walder pull off his face, and where Walder stood was a girl who told her The North Remembers."
Tytos' brow knit. "A faceless man? That… That can't be true."
"And yet Mariya Darry has taken her household North. Her husband and son died with the rest of the Freys, so she's taken her household north… to join the Targaryens and Starks."
Tytos turned to look at the weirwood tree, his nostrils flaring as he took a breath. "Have the men discreetly prepare, and send a reply to the raven from Winterfell. We aided Aegon the Conqueror, and we aided House Stark in the War of the Five Kings. Let them know that Blackwoods stand firm."
"What happened to you, Arry?" Hot Pie asked, watching her wipe her mouth and stare at him.
"You got any ale?"
He'd barely gripped the pitcher when she got up and took it to pour her own mug and take a drink. He watched, surprised to see a girl eat and drink as quick and sloppily as some of the soldiers that came through the Crossroads.
"Where you headin'?"
"King's Landing," she answered.
"Why?"
"Heard Cersei's queen now."
"Heard she blew up the great sept. Must 'ave been something to see." For dramatic effect he added, "Boom!"
"Mm."
"Can't believe someone would do that," Hot Pie said shaking his head.
"Cersei would do that."
"I thought you'd be heading for Winterfell."
Her vacant expression shifted with her gaze sliding toward Hot Pie. "Why would I go there? The Boltons have it."
"No… the Boltons are dead."
Arya looked to him, frozen for a moment before wiping her mouth. "What?"
"Jon Snow came down from Castle Black with a wildling army and rounded up all the other houses to win the Battle of the Bastards. 'Course, turns out he was never a bastard at all," Hot Pie said with a laugh. "Turned out he was a Targaryen. Named Aegon or Aemon, but people still call him Jon."
Arya's eyes shifted as she tried to piece together what he'd said. "You're lying."
"Why would I lie 'bout that? Heard he's even marrying you sister."
"What?" Arya gaped.
"People joke he's a true Targaryen after all, but some say it's to keep the North loyal since they only knew him as a bastard and hate Targaryens." Hot Pie shrugged. "Others say it's cause they love each other after she rode to war with him."
"Sansa?" Arya asked, and when Hot Pie nodded she turned to shake her head. She had to go north and find out what was happening at Winterfell.
Looking over the sea of green surrounding Highgarden, Willas Tyrell held his cane in front of him and sighed. A glance back made him frown, as he always seemed to when he looked at Garlan now. He reminded him too much of poor Loras, which made him think of their brother, father and Margaery dying painfully in an explosion of wildfire.
"Do you believe this?" Garlan asked, looking up to his elder brother.
"I believe nothing without proof," Willas said turning to make his way to the table, leaning on his cane to stay up. "That's why you'll ride north and find out if any of it is true."
"You want me to go north?" Garlan's eyes narrowed. "What about the Lannisters? What about Grandmother and the Targaryen queen? She has three dragons!"
"Three dragons I haven't seen," Willas answered calmly, though his jaw shifted. "If this is true, then he has a better claim than some Targaryen who never spent a day of her life on Westeros. Hells, maybe her dragons will even listen to him too. Who knows? For now we need to make sure we know everything so we don't make the wrong choice. Go north and find out if he is who he says he is, and if there's any truth to his story about the undead.
"If it's true, then we might have a better option to be rid of the Mad Queen then settling for a foreign one."
Her room alight with flickering flames, Arianne Martell stood beside a table reading a letter. Daemon Sand wondered how he was the only one fool enough to swear himself to the short, buxom dornish beauty.
Seeing the sandy haired man enter, Arianne smiled, waving him forward. "I have a task for you, Daemon."
"Anything you like, Princess," he said with a grin.
"None of that," she sighed, holding out a letter.
Daemon took it and gave it a quick read before furrowing his brow and giving it a second more thorough one. "This can't be true."
"That's what I need you to find out," she said conspiratorially. "If it is then perhaps they can help me find vengeance two fold, for my cousins and this king's supposed half-siblings as well as for my father."
Daemon's blue eyes darkened. "Arianne… Ellaria and the Sand Snakes have control of Dorne."
"I have those loyal to me," she said simply. "Loyal to House Martell."
Daemon set the letter down, shaking his head. "I'm your sworn sword, I can't just leave your side."
"You must," she said firmly. "Without this I'll be forced to live the rest of my life under the control of the vile imbeciles who thought the best way to get vengeance for my uncle, their father, was to kill my father and steal control from him. Whatever my feelings for him he never deserved that."
Daemon saw the pain in her eyes and sighed, knowing he could never deny her. "As you wish, Princess."
Notes:
This chapter and the next were originally mixed, but I decided to go from north to south, almost following the kingsroad. I considered showing a bit of the wight hunt, but I think I got what I needed from the opening.
Brynden isn't really a necessary change, but I like him so he's alive because Brienne wasn't there to take the last boat.
Vale scenes I found a bit hard to write, but I think I'm just saying screw it. It's not like Petyr's betrayal of Ned had a ton of obvious setup scenes, so I'm not going to worry about spelling out his plans too much. I don't think he's a character half as clever as some people think he is, and no where near the omnipotent puppet master some fan fics make him into. So I'm just going to have fun with my interpretation of him.
The Blackwoods are mostly there to talk about the Freys and will likely have a super minor role, mentioned in background stuff, but the Tyrells and Martells should have minor support roles, I imagine. They won't be major characters here and are more like what I imagine show versions of them would be, but I like them and thought they could prove interesting.