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The soft sound of running water across rocks was soothing in a way. It was peaceful and tranquil. Something that Nyra Nox knew would be in short supply in the times to come. A few days had passed since their flight from King's Landing, days where they made very little progress in their venture back North. The most obvious reason for their slow pace was their horses. While Sandor's horse was a fine war horse, the beast was bred for power not speed. Their other two horses were so old that Nyra was afraid to put them at a decent, long-distance moving pace for very long out of fear they would simply expire. And they were traveling through the thick woods and doing all they could to avoid the King's Road or any settlements for that matter.
Of course, there was the physical endurance of the girls as well. Arya and Sansa might have been well trained by her husband. But in the end, they were both daughters of a noble and Starks at that. Because of that, they never had to travel like this before. Unfortunately, Jeyne had neither the experience of such travel nor the training of Nyra's husband to prepare her. And even Nyra wasn't ashamed to admit that even she wasn't used to traveling in such conditions for long. Especially now as she felt far more fatigued than usual.
"We're going too slow, Lady."
Tearing her eyes away from the path of the small stream, Nyra glanced towards the imposing form of Sandor Clegane, who was standing beside her with his back purposefully turned on the four that were behind him. Sansa, Arya, and Jeyne were all in various states of undress, washing what they could with the river water under Osha's watchful eye as Sandor stood tall with his back towards them.
"I know," Nyra admitted, kneeling on the ground and placing one of their water skins into the clear stream to refill it. "But we can't push much harder than we have. Our horses are ill suited for speed and the forest isn't helping matters either. And I hesitate to use the King's Road as the eyes of King's Landing are no doubt on it."
Placing the stopper on the water skin, Nyra grabbed the next and began filling it. "You know Joffrey better than any, Sandor. What will he do now?"
After their first night in the woods when Nyra finally called for a break, Sandor had informed them all of what he knew. Lord Eddard Stark had tried to submit King Robert's will, only to have it thrown back in his face by the Queen before being beaten unconscious and then taken to the black cells. The Stark men that'd stayed behind had held their ground well before destroying the Tower of the Hand, injuring but not killing Ser Jamie Lannister. Outside of that, he knew little else as he fled the city with them before anything else could come about.
"The little shit is a bloodthirsty cunt, much like my brother," Sandor answered honestly. "He's a dumb little cunt, but not dumb enough to not know that putting Stark in the cells and sending me after you lot would mean war with the North. Which is no doubt what he wanted."
Shaking her head, Nyra stopped the last of their water skins and set them aside. "If it's war he wants, it is war he will get. Though he will wish it differently at the end. He has little support outside of the Crownlands and the Westerlands. Stannis and Renly will no doubt put forth their own claims to the throne if they haven't already. And in doing so they will divide the Stormlands. The gods only know what the Reach will end up doing. Dorne will side with us…but they are on the wrong side of Westeros. And it will be difficult for them to send aid. And I don't even want to think of how the Ironborn will try and turn this war to their advantage."
Sandor nodded, before his eyes narrowed as he stared at their horses. "Lady…Is that bag supposed to be glowing like that?"
Frowning, Nyra turned around towards where their horses were tied off near the stream so they could drink. Her heart hammered in her chest as she noticed a light blue glow coming from underneath the flap of the satchel she'd taken with her from the Tower of the Hand. Nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste, Nyra stumbled over to her horse and dug frantically through the satchel. The glass candle was still nestled in the bottom of the satchel. However, unlike before, it was now glowing a soft blue color.
Grabbing the candle, Nyra sat down with her feet crossed beneath her and set the candle down sitting upright on the ground. Closing her eyes, she opened herself to the Force and reached out to the candle, just as she had done every night for the past several weeks. Almost instantly, she could feel another presence within the candle. A presence she knew intimately and one that brought her no small amount of comfort and relief. "Alim."
"Nyra," she could hear his voice, his rough calming voice not in her ears, but rather in her mind. "I felt distress and danger. For you and the others. What happened?"
Nyra nearly wanted to collapse. "I–It all went wrong, Alim," she said, holding onto the glass candle as if she were holding onto her husband. "Robert died an–and the royal children are not his. He wrote a will naming Ned as Regent for a time… But Cersei had Joffrey crowned, naming him the King and her the Queen Mother. Then Ned was arrested and–and I had to flee with the girls. Everyone else…they're gone."
Her husband was silent, and during his silence she realized that the others had slowly approached her from behind. Arya and Sansa were both looking hopeful. However, Jeyne, Sandor, and Osha all looked confused. She knew that they couldn't hear her husband through the candle, so she was sure that she looked like a mad woman, talking out loud to a glowing glass candle.
"Nyra, tell me everything."
Sitting behind his father's desk—no, it was his desk now—within the Lord's solar of Winterfell, Robb Stark, current Lord of Winterfell stared blankly down at the raven's scroll laid out before him. For over a week now, Robb had been feeling uneasy. A nagging sensation that he knew came from the Force that spoke loudly of something about to happen, or something that had happened that was not good. He could sense danger and uncertainty. Even the wolves still in Winterfell; Winter, Lady, Nymeria, Grey Wind, and Summer were all on edge. Constantly pacing like caged animals and making more than one of the servants within Winterfell uneasy.
And with no word from anyone, neither his father or sisters down in King's Landing nor Lord Nox and his brother Jon north of the Wall, Robb was left in the uncomfortable position of being completely in the dark with nothing but the nagging sensation of something wrong from the Force constantly wracking his mind. But today those questions were answered. Though Robb was truly wishing that they hadn't been.
The raven hadn't even been from his own family, House Tully. No. As if to twist the dagger deeper a raven came from Raventree Hall, bearing the sigil of House Blackwood and signed by Lord Tytos Blackwood himself. Though given its contents, he wasn't fully surprised that Lord Blackwood would send a raven to him. But the silence from House Tully bothered him greatly.
King Robert was dead. Robb's own father was imprisoned, and the fate of his sisters and Lady Nyra Nox unknown to any. And the new King, Joffrey Baratheon, had not only outlawed the faith of the Old Gods, but he had also declared an Exalted March against the North and House Stark specifically. And now any who bore the name Stark, either through birth or marriage, had a price on their heads that would make anyone from highborn noble to street urchin with a blade out for their blood.
Nothing his father or Lord Nox had taught him could have prepared him for this. The only thing that did was when his father told him that the most important thing that a Lord could do was to prepare for the unexpected. But how in the name of the old gods and the Force could one prepare themselves for this?!
There was no doubt as to where this would lead. War. The First Men of the North would not stand to have their worship of the old gods outlawed. Let alone that acquiescing to these demands would result in Robb having to put not only his own head on the block, but also the heads of his family. Not something that he was willing to entertain in the slightest.
"Robb."
Lifting his head, he saw the light of his life, his wife Talisa Stark standing just within the now open door to his solar. A door he hadn't even heard open as he was so lost in his own mind. 'Another reason why I cannot give in to these ridiculous demands,' he thought as Talisa closed the door behind her to give them some semblance of privacy. 'Talisa is a Stark now. And the little shit King is calling for her head as well. And it's not just her life in the balance either.' Having thought this, Robb's eyes flickered down to his wife's stomach. Where his child, the future of House Stark, now grew.
Upon arriving back from Harrenhal, Talisa had informed him that her moonblood was late. And after a consultation with Maester Luwin, the conclusion was made that she was more than likely with child. Though they would not be able to tell for sure yet for at least another moon. The idea that his wife was pregnant, that he was soon to be a father, was one that excited yet made him more terrified than he could ever remember. And now…now he would need to go to war. A war to ensure that his wife, and his child, would even be allowed to live.
His wife didn't say anything further as she made her way around so that she could grab hold of him, pulling him close so that his head was resting against her breasts as her fingers gently weaved through his hair. "There will be war, Talisa," Robb said plainly, as Talisa already knew about the contents of the missive, "I can't…I can't stand for this. My father imprisoned. My sisters and Lady Nox on the run or worse. Even if I could…the people of the North won't. They'll take up arms against the South the moment they learn of Joffrey's proclamation outlawing the faith of the Old Gods."
"I know," Talisa said, her fingers continuing their dance through his hair.
Reaching up and taking her hands in his own, Robb turned and met his wife's eyes. "I'll leave instruction that you will be the Stark in Winterfell while I ride south."
Talisa's gaze hardened, a true she-wolf even if she was not born one. "Do not think that just because I am possibly with child that I will be leaving you to fight this war on your own, Robb Stark."
Robb kept his eyes on her own and hardened his resolve. He acknowledged that Talisa was his greatest strength, as well as his greatest weakness. And with her now possibly carrying his child and the future of House Stark? "Talisa, I don't doubt your strength. But if the words of Lord Blackwood are to be believed, then Tywin Lannister himself has been appointed as Commander of this 'Exalted March'. The man's reputation, both on and off the field, is well deserved. And to even stand against him…the North will need to be just as brutal as Tywin, if not more so."
"And that is why you need me, Robb," Talisa countered. "Just as Lord Nox needs Nyra to keep him grounded and prevent him from losing himself. I will keep you from losing yourself in this war as well. I know you will need to be brutal. I know that this war will be…bloody and that innocents will be caught in the middle. But I will be by your side through it all. And besides, Bran can be the Stark in Winterfell. And while he's still just a boy, he will have Luwin and Samwell helping to advise him."
The part of him that wanted to keep her safe and away from all potential harm was yelling at him to tell her that her place was in Winterfell while he was at war. But that part was vastly overwhelmed by the part of him that knew his wife. She would not accept being left behind while he marched off to war. She wouldn't be donning any armor or picking up a weapon. But she would be the first on the field once the battle was over to look after the wounded and dying.
He was about to give his consent to her desires when he felt the Force run into him like Hodor at a full sprint. Physically reeling from the sudden onslaught, Robb could do little more than spring up to his feet and look around wildly, trying to pinpoint where the strange sensation suddenly came from. Finding the source, he felt something calling out to him from a small wooden box the length of his forearm that was resting on the far side of the solar. Opening the box, he found a glass candle, one of the dozens Lord Nox had pilfered from Valyria, laying on a bed of cloth.
"Next time answer the call faster, young Apprentice."
Lord Nox's voice rocked him the moment his fingers touched the surface of the glass. It honestly confused him for a moment before he remembered the quick lesson Lord Nox had given them all regarding these glass candles. How they could be used so that two individuals could hold a conversation with one another despite almost any distance that was between them. "Lord Nox?" he questioned, setting up the candle on the surface of the desk.
"Of course it is me, Apprentice. Now, listen closely as I am not in the mood to have to repeat myself. Have you received word of what happened in the south?"
Robb cast a glance towards Talisa, confused as to how Master Nox knew of what was happening in the South, yet his wife was just staring at him in a confused matter. 'Oh! That's right, she can't hear Master Nox unless she connects to the candles through the Force.' "I just received word from House Blackwood today, Master. King Robert is dead and the little shit Joffrey has ascended to the Iron Throne. And his first act was to throw my father in the black cells for treason as well as name worship of the old gods and practice of the Force heretical and punishable by death. He's called forth an Exalted March on the North to be led by Lord Tywin Lannister and he has put a bounty on the heads of each member of House Stark as well as a bounty on your own head and your Lady wife's."
Lord Nox was silent on the other side of the glass candle. "Fucking hells," Lord Nox's curse carried through the connection between them with such vitriol that Robb could practically feel his Master's growing anger. "I just spoke with Nyra. She has your sisters, Jeyne, Osha, and surprisingly Sandor Clegane who has turned his cloak in our favor. They're currently in the Crownlands, doing what they can to avoid being spotted."
"We have to march south," Robb said with conviction. He wouldn't stand for his sisters running for their lives nor for his father being held prisoner in such a manner. The honor of House Stark, not to mention the honor of the entire North, demanded nothing less than a full armed response to these insults.
"And we will, Apprentice. But we must do so wisely." Lord Nox stated firmly, and just like that, Robb went from being Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North to a young lad listening to either his father or mentor. "You are strong in the Force, Robb, but that does not make you invincible. The North is strong, but the further away from one's home you bring an army, the weaker they become. Our enemies are numerous, Robb. Especially if that little shit has made this a war of faith. And they're being led by Lord Tywin. For now, we are outnumbered and behind. Our only advantage lies in our ability to utilize the Force and the fact that these candles have mitigated the element of surprise."
Robb wanted to pace angrily. "I can't just leave my father in the hands of the Lannisters and Baratheons! Nor can I just leave my sisters to wander through enemy lands unprotected!"
Another wave of anger came through the candle, and this time Robb couldn't help stumbling back slightly. "Do not think I am speaking lightly, Apprentice. My wife is with your sisters. And I will do anything to get her back including personally killing every man under the banner of the Stag or the Lion. But, regardless of our wants, we cannot act rashly and thereby doom the people of the North and those you are trying to save, understand?"
Lord Nox's words were reminiscent of his own father's. More than once, his father spoke of the start of the rebellion and the brash nature of his Uncle Brandon and how he charged headlong into King's Landing, demanding Lyanna's return and for Rhaegar to explain himself. An act that resulted in not only his uncle's death. But also the death of his grandfather and all of those who had followed Brandon to King's Landing and all of those who died during the Rebellion. But what if his uncle had kept his head? Would he still be alive today? Would his grandfather? All those who went with him?
"What do we do, Master?"
"We have an advantage thanks to Lord Blackwood, as the North was clearly not supposed to know about this 'Exalted March' until the army was on our doorstep. Which means we have time to prepare a counter. However, we are still behind. Send out ravens informing the Lords of the North of the impending attack and have them send their vanguard and themselves to Moat Cailan. You will meet them there, and hold the Moat till I, Jon and the rest of the Northern forces arrive to reinforce our position. Only then, when we have our full force available to us, will we bring the fight to these southern fools and teach them just what it means to fight against a Sith."
Robb wanted to do nothing more than grab every strong arm in the North and rush straight into the heart of the South to save his father and sisters. But he knew that his Master was right. They needed to act smartly, not rashly. If all of the South was united under the Faith against them…then it would be a war unlike any the North had seen since before Aegon's Conquest of Westeros. "I'll send the word and have the Lords gather at the Moat. We'll hold it till you arrive, Lord Nox."
"Set your nerves to steel, young Robb. We will have our vengeance against all those who have wronged us. And they will learn just what it means to go against us. Now get to work. I have more than a few plans and contingencies to put in motion. And rest assured, your father is one of the very few I have ever called my friend. So, I will not leave him at the mercies of the Baratheons and Lannisters for long, my young apprentice."
He could feel the presence of his Master fade as the light dimmed within the glass candle before disappearing completely. "Robb?"
Shaking his head, Robb turned towards his wife. "I've got more than a few ravens I need to write. Please send for my brother, Maester Luwin, Samwell, Joy, and Gendry. If you're going to be riding south with the rest of us, then I have more than a few things to set in place before we depart."
Sitting on a fallen tree next to Ygritte, Jon watched silently as just across the small fire from him his Master sat in meditative silence, the glass candle that he never seemed to part with floating chest high in the air in front of Lord Nox. It'd just barely been midday when they had emerged from the roots of the weirwood, and now that it was approaching sunset, Lord Nox had still not spoken a single word to any of them. Something had happened in the south. Something not good. And the longer his Master held his tongue, the more and more Jon's anxiety grew. He needed to know what happened, or rather what was happening.
And worse, his anxiety was clearly starting to affect both Ghost and Archon. His faithful direwolf, while remaining silent as his namesake, was clearly on edge. His ears constantly twitching and his blood-red eyes snapping off into the distance at even the slightest of sounds. And Archon was constantly scampering back and forth between Jon and Ygritte. The little dragon was clearly not pleased and not in the mood for any sort of comfort either he or Ygritte could give him.
"Ah, fuckin hells," Ygritte growled, tossing the stick she was using to draw in the snow into the small fire. "What da fuck is takin him so damn long to talk? And who da hells is he talkin to?"
"A fair number of individuals scattered across Westeros and Essos, Ygritte," Lord Nox said suddenly, the glow from the glass candle fading as it finally dropped out the air and into his Master's waiting hand.
"Master," Jon called out, drawing the attention of Leaf and Uncle Benjen, who were both sitting nearby on similar fallen trees. "What's going on, Master?"
"War," Lord Nox replied, putting the glass candle away and rising to his feet, taking a moment to brush the snow off his pants as he did so. "Robert Baratheon is dead. Joffrey, with the aid of his mother, has ascended to the Iron Throne. As his first act, he had your father arrested for treason, forced your sisters and my wife to flee the city, has now declared practice of the Force and worship of the old gods heretical, and is calling for an Exalted March on the people of the North."
Jon, along with the others, could only stare in dumb silence at what Lord Nox had just told them. "No…No, that's not possible," Benjen denied, shaking his head. "Not even the Targaryen's in the height of their madness would dare declare an Exalted March against the North."
"True, yet the Targaryen's have not always ruled Westeros. Remember, there were numerous attempted marches, crusades, or whatever you want to call them by the Andals well before the Targaryen's ever stepped foot on Westeros soil," Lord Nox countered.
It was true. As much as the North considered the former Wildlings to be amongst their greatest foes, the truth was there had only been five Kings-Beyond-the-Wall before Mance Rayder in all recorded history that had attempted to invade the North. For each attempt by the Wildlings to claim the North, there were at least two attempts or more by the Andals to do the same. It was a grim reality to ponder. Between the three enemies of the North, the Andals, the Ironborn, and the Wildlings, the wildlings were the least likely to launch a full invasion of the North. Raid, yes. Invade, no. And now…Now the Andals were once again marching to war against the North. At a time when they could ill afford to be divided.
"Robb is sending word throughout the North and calling for all the Lords and their men to assemble at Moat Cailin," Lord Nox continued. "Lord Blackwood sent a raven to Robb, informing him of the Exalted March. Which has given us time to prepare a proper defense against the forces being assembled against us. But despite the warning, at best we will only be able to have a small force assembled at Moat Cailin before Tywin Lannister, who has been named Supreme Commander of the Exalted March, arrives. Robb will hold the Moat with what men he can muster. And as he does, we will make our way south, collecting as many as we can to bolster our numbers."
Jon was still trying to wrap his mind around everything that had happened. His father held prisoner. His sisters were running for their lives. His brother marching off to war, a war that'd been declared on the entirety of the North simply because they worshiped different gods. How? How did it all come to this? Sure, things weren't necessarily going right for them with everything that happened with the Children of the Forest. But war? It…It just didn't seem real.
Feeling a warm touch on his hand, he jerked his head up, surprised yet not surprised to find Ygritte's warm hand in his own and her face close to his own. There were no snide remarks nor jokes. She just sat with him, holding his hand as if she was trying to add her strength to his own.
Nodding, he squeezed her own hand with his own as he brought his mind around to trying to piece together the situation they were in. The Faith of the Seven had declared war on them and they were heavily outnumbered. But they were not alone. They had allies they could call on. Dorne would aid them, he was sure of it. Both his betrothal to Arianne and the chance for vengeance against the Baratheons and Lannisters would compel Dorne to side with the North. The Reach…They were a possibility. Sansa was set to become the next Lady of Highgarden, which should make House Tyrell honor-bound to aid House Stark. On the other hand, the Reach was well known for its dedication to the Faith of the Seven. At best, he would expect neutrality from the Reach… Unless Sansa fell into the wrong hands. But outside of House Tyrell and House Martell, there was another group they could call upon to aid them.
"Master," Jon said, eyeing his Master. "We are not far from Mance Rayder and the rest of the Free Folk who decided to stay north of the Wall. Perhaps it would behoove us to make the slight trek to their camp and add their numbers to our own."
"Mance and those with him won't kneel to ya or to yer brother, Jon," Ygritte responded quickly. "Lady Val swore before the old gods, so she will march. But da others won't march just cause you want them to."
"We don't need them to kneel or swear oaths," Lord Nox commented back, already seeing what his apprentice had in mind. "We just need their strength at arms. And there are many ways of obtaining that outside of swearing oaths."
Jon, and the others, caught on to what Lord Nox was implying. "You intend to…buy the Free Folk like they are sellswords?" Benjen questioned before scratching at the back of his head. "It might work. But it'll cost a fair bit of coin…or other valuables. And even if you do get their services, they won't be sworn to the North. Therefore, the Night's Watch won't let them pass the Wall. Hells, as much as I want to let you have your way and even march with you…I can't betray my oaths."
"That won't be an issue," Lord Nox responded. He already had a plan…or perhaps five, Jon was sure of it. Not just for how to secure the services of the Free Folk, but also how to win this war. "Leaf, time to make yourself useful again and lead us to Mance Rayder. After that, go back to your people or stay with us, I really don't care. Now, let's move. We're already far enough behind our enemies as it is."
Carefully observing the small gathering of people working on the construction of a wooden building, Nyra fought against the urge to rub her hand across her stomach as she watched the few women present walk around, handing out small pieces of bread and meat to those who were working. It'd been little over a week since they'd fled King's Landing. A week without a decent meal outside of that which they could forage or hunt down, which was little. And as much as she wanted to try and avoid any type of settlement, especially one this close to King's Landing, the desire for a decent meal and perhaps even some sort of bed that wasn't the ground was eroding away her desire to stay away.
"Looks to be about twenty, maybe thirty," Sandor said from his place beside her as they watched the small hamlet go about their day. "Old enough to have seen a few winters…and young enough to not have seen any. Few men of fighting age. And they are well stocked. Saw a couple of chickens behind one of the buildings over there. And they're handing out bread like its water after a heavy rain."
Biting her lip, the urge to approach the small hamlet was approaching the point of being unbearable. They were a fair distance off the King's Road. And this hamlet was small enough. A single night couldn't hurt, could it? Arya was doing alright. As was Osha and Sandor. But she knew that Sansa and Jeyne were both struggling. And she was as well. "We have the coin to spare," Nyra said contemplatively, thinking back to the satchel on her horse and the two coin purses within. "We can pay for food and a place to rest our heads for one night."
"Why waste the coin?" Sandor asked, shaking his head. "There are no men of fighting shape here. We could just take what we need and be back on the road with hardly any time lost."
"We are not brigands, Sandor," Nyra countered with an edge to her voice. "We have the coin to pay for what we need. And a warm meal and a bed of sorts will do wonders for the girls. Plus, we still haven't had much of a chance to talk about our next moves. We can rest for one night, plan out our next move, and then head out in the morning."
Sandor growled but didn't press further. "Your decision, woman."
Retreating into the thicket, Nyra quickly found the three girls and Osha who were waiting for her return. "There's a small hamlet down the way," she explained. "We'll rest there for a single night before heading on again. Remember, you three are my daughters. Osha my sister and Sandor here a sellsword we managed to hire to escort us to Harrenhal after we failed to find work at King's Landing."
The girls all nodded, letting Nyra take the lead as they loaded up on their horses and slowly made their way out of the thicket and towards the small hamlet. Their presence was quickly noticed, not surprising seeing as how Sandor's imposing form on his equally imposing warhorse took the lead. The few village women and children all quickly disappeared as they neared, leaving only a few men to come forth, led by a tall older man who was nearly as tall as Sandor's warhorse even with a slight hunch in his back. He wore a simple tunic with an iron Seven-pointed star pendant hanging around his neck.
"Good day, travelers," the Septon greeted them, stepping forward away from the village behind him, "I am Septon Meribald. This village rarely gets travelers…especially a knight of such stature as this man here. May I inquire as to what purpose you have coming upon this small village?"
Stepping out around Sandor, Nyra motioned for the large man to stay back. "G'day, Septon. I be Nia, and des be me daughters and sister. We be travelin to Harrenhal lookin for work after me husband…passed and King's Landin be no longer good for me girls. We only be lookin to stay a night before movin on. We have coin to pay for a bed…and mayhap any food ye could spare."
The Septon passed a glance over all of them, his eyes lingering on the imposing form of Sandor. "Most be a fair bit of coin to afford the services of such an imposing sellsword."
Nyra, playing her part, thought back to several intimate encounters she and Alim shared in Harrenhal, encounters that brought a blush to her face. "He serves well…and takes payment other than…coin."
Septon frowned but nodded. "I see. Such is the world we live in, my dear. A pity that. There are enclosed stables and only homes for those who call this hamlet their own. Yet you and yours may stay in the Sept tonight and may purchase any food that these villagers are willing to part with. And should your…sellsword require payment tonight, I ask you do so quietly. There are many children in this village who do not need to know of such activities."
As night fell, Nyra and the others found themselves alone in the Sept as the village slept. Despite the late hour, the small group of six stayed awake in the light of a single candle. Laid out before them were the few pieces of gold and several purses of silver. Along with a roughly drawn map of Westeros that Nyra had hastily created. Ever since that day by the stream when Alim had contacted her through the glass candles, they had been in almost constant contact with one another. It was…strange. Being able to speak with her love who was on the far side of Westeros from her, yet still they spoke every day. And from her husband she learned the true depth of the boy-King's madness. A price on their heads she expected. But to declare an Exalted March on the North? To outlaw the practice of the Force and the Old Gods? Madness almost seemed too light a term.
None of the girls had taken the news of the impending war well, nor the news of their father's imprisonment. Jeyne wept silently as fear gripped her heart. Arya wanted to turn around and head right back to King's Landing to free Lord Stark and kill as many Lannisters and Baratheons as she could. Sansa was the most levelheaded of the three, the oldest girl keeping her silence yet her mind clearly reeling as she tried to make sense of their current situation.
"This Exalted Army will most likely gather at either Harrenhal or Riverrun." Nyra said, pointing to the two roughly marked locations in the middle of her map. "Whatever army Joffrey can gather from the Crownlands will need a staging location to meet up with the armies from the Westerlands. Tywin Lannister is not foolish enough to charge into the North, leaving House Tully, kin to the Starks, at his back. He'll want to either ensure the loyalty of the Riverlands, or make sure they are no threat to his rear flank before he heads north."
"Meaning the Riverlands will soon be swamped with the fuckers," Sandor growled, the imposing man refusing to leave his armor even during the night. "Tens of thousands of Lannister shit-lickers and fanatical Seven-ass-kissers. All looking to run one sword or another through each of you. And we're heading straight towards them."
"We could turn around. Head for Dorne?" Arya suggested. "The Dornish will take us in. Hells, once they learn of this stupid 'Exalted March' Arianne will probably lead the Dornish spears herself into battle."
"Dorne is just as far away as the North, Arya," Sansa countered, frowning as she looked at the crude map. "And we would have to pass by King's Landing if we were to take that route. And travel through the Stormlands…the lands of the Baratheons to reach the sands of Dorne. At least in the Riverlands we have kin that can aid us. In the Stormlands we have none. But Arya does raise a good point. The North, no matter how strong and even when favored by the Force, can't stand up against the entirety of the South. But we, the North, need allies. Or, at least, we need to fracture the full strength of the southern Kingdoms. And with Lord Nox and our brothers in the North. And father…held prisoner… We are the only ones who can do that."
Sansa had a point. If the entirety of the South united against the North, it would be disastrous. But even with the Faith backing this war, was that truly a concern? Considering the truth of the 'royal children' and the actions of both Renly and Stannis, she would hazard a guess that, if they weren't already, the Stormlands would soon be fractured completely between Renly, Stannis, and Joffrey. The Riverlands were never truly united, and it would be even worse now. Families like the Blackwoods would fight against this Exalted March. And others would hold true to the Faith regardless of House Tully's stance. The Crownlands would fight for the crown, as would the Westerlands. But the Dornish would side with the North, if for no other reason than the chance to have their revenge for Robert's Rebellion and what happened to Elia Martell and Rhaenys Targaryen. Which left one significant kingdom up in the air.
"We need the Reach on our side," Nyra said plainly. "As does Tywin Lannister. Their gold, food…and over one-hundred thousand men at arms will turn the tide of war in favor of whoever they side with."
"I can ensure that the Reach will side with us."
Nyra frowned and looked at Sansa. As smart as the girl had become under her lord husband and her own tutelage, she was still a girl. "Aye, you are betrothed to Willias Tyrell and you're set to become the next Lady Tyrell, but you are not her yet, Sansa. While Willias, Margaery, and Garlen are decent folk, the Tyrells are well known to covet the throne to the point where it might override their sense. Renly was well known to favor the Tyrells, almost to the point where he spent more time amongst the bannerman of the Reach than he did his own. It would be easy for him to pose the offer to make Margaery his Queen should they back his claim. Or worse, what if Tywin makes the same offer? To make Margaery Queen to Joffrey? Will they hold to their senses? Or will their desires for the throne set them against us?"
"Which is why I must go in person." Sansa countered. "A simple raven will not do. I need to be there in person to ensure their loyalty is to the North. And while I agree that Renly as King would…not be for the best—"
"No shit, Sansa! He left father to die!"
"—he would not hold to this stupidity of the Exalted March," Sansa finished, continuing over Arya's protest. "But if not Renly, then who will be King? Perhaps Stannis, but we know little about him outside of what Shireen has told us. And truth be told, given the tales of her father, I find Renly the preferable option."
Nyra had to bite her lip to keep from saying what she wanted to say. That there was a King that they could back, one that would put an end to this stupidity. One that understood the North. That had the favor of the South. One who, while still young, understood the burden of rulership and more importantly respected it. But she could not name him. Not now. Not while they were still in the South. Though, she had a feeling that if her husband truly had his way, then all the Realm would know soon enough.
"Sansa is right," Nyra sighed. "The North, regardless of how strong it has become, needs allies. Not just to win this war, but to ensure stability of the realm after all blades have been sheathed."
Leaning forward, Nyra divided the coin in half, giving half to Sansa and keeping the other half for herself before pointing towards Highgarden on the map. "Sansa, Jeyne, and Osha will head for Highgarden and get the Tyrells on our side. It won't be easy Sansa. While the Tyrells will more than likely be willing to side with us, you must remember that most of the Reach holds true to the Seven. At best, you may only be able to push for the Reach to stay neutral in this war. But even that would be a win, as it would prevent the strength of the Reach from bolstering Tywin's numbers." Her fingers moved away from the Reach to just east of the Riverlands. "While you secure the Tyrells, Arya, Sandor, and I will make for the Vale."
"The Vale? Why the fuck would we go there?" Sandor asked, snorting. "Those pious fucks are worse than the damned Reachmen. Won't even take a shit without begging the Seven forgiveness for lifting their skirts."
"Be that as it may, we still have allies in the Vale," Nyra countered. "The Royces, for starters. Let us not forget that Arya and Sansa's own aunt now rules the Vale as Regent until her son is ready to take up his role. And Ser Brynden Tully still serves as Knight of the Gate at the Bloody Gate. With Arya with us, he will grant us passage and hopefully a route to secure the Vale's knights at best. And at worst perhaps their neutrality."
Sandor scoffed. "With all respects to the girls here, but their beloved aunt is more than a little touched in the fucking head. Hells, she still fed the little shit Robert Arryn at her teat despite his age."
"Be that as it may, we still need to try," Nyra pressed. Truthfully, she had heard the whispers of Lady Lysa Arryn as well, and they were discerning to say the least. But despite her husband's prowess, and the prowess of the Starks and the North, they needed allies. The Riverlands and Dorne they could count on. But if they could sway the Reach and the Vale to aid them or to stay neutral, then the scales of this war would quickly tilt in their favor.
"We only got da three horses," Osha said, speaking up for the first time. "And two groups of three."
"Aye," Nyra nodded. "You, Sansa, and Jeyne will be taking two of the horses. The Vale and the Riverlands are not far from here, so Arya, Sandor, and I will make do with only the one horse while you three have much farther to traverse. Stay to the forests and off the roads until you reach the Roseroad. But even then, never let your guard down. Word has already spread to most, if not all, of the keeps in the Seven Kingdoms. And just about anyone with some sort of blade will be out looking to collect on the bounty. Trust only yourselves until you reach Highgarden. Now let us turn in for the night. We leave at first light tomorrow. And just in case, we will leave together, heading east. Then you three will break away and swing back southwest. May the Force, and the old gods, be with us."