Conclusions
Lord Mark Ryswell, Yearling Hall, Midnight
“No! Not my boys please show mercy!”
Mark ignored his uncle and looked upon his cousins, “Which one of you did it?” None of them said anything. “Which one of you raped and murdered Elaena Glenmore?” Again they said nothing. Mark truly didn't know who did it and was horrified to see the naked body of his childhood friend inside of the castle. She was in one of their rooms, and maybe one of their men did it, but they would have needed permission to get into those rooms.
“Very well,” Mark shrugged and whistled. The ropes around the the appendages of his cousins tightened as the eight horses trotted forward. His cousins groaned or cried out at the action.
“Mark, these are your cousins! Your kin!” His uncle Rodrik screamed. “They are more important than some slut from Rillwater Crossing!”
Mark snapped his fingers in response. The horses turned around from their positions so they could get a run up. When they did, they ran like hell and his cousins were torn to pieces. His uncle screamed in despair while Mark walked up to him. Mark wrapped a hand around his uncles throat and lifted him off of the ground.
“That slut was one of my friends and she was true born and noble, your sons got what they deserved because of you.” He spat as his uncle whimpered in grief. “You tried to commit treason and many would have suffered because of it. You will face justice and answer for your crimes.”He leaned in to whisper. “No matter how much you beg me, and no matter how much you insult me, the only hand that will kill you is Lord Rickard's. Get ready to meet your makers, for the gods can be far crueler than men.”
He tossed him away in disgust and told his men to take him away.
“I should have let you die with your fucking cunt of a father!” His uncle roared out in fury. He was referencing the fact that Mark and his father Torr were attacked by bandits when he was a child. His father died from his wounds but not before killing as many bandits as he could. It was during winter and Mark nearly died from the cold. Coming here to lay siege to the only home he had known was difficult but necessary to ensure that justice was served.
“Yes, you should have,” Mark nodded in apparent agreement. “Then maybe your sons would still be alive and you would still be the Lord of the Rills and Yearling Hall.”
His uncle continued to scream obscenities while fighting against those who dragged him away.
“That was unwise, Ser Mark,” Ser Barristan's voice came from his left.
“Wise or not, its true,” Mark replied with a shrug. “My uncles ambition has lead to the deaths of his sons. I wouldn't be surprised if his daughter is dead as well. I take no pleasure in what I said, but we won and they lost, those are just the facts.”
Ser Barristan clearly disapproved of what was said but kept silent.
“Speaking of loss, how many men did we lose?”
“Two handfuls, mostly green boys who volunteered for us. That Dothraki fellow is dead as well.”
Mark noticed the sickle like Valyrian blade in Ser Barristan's hand.
“Trophy?” Mark would not miss Caggo by any means, but he would make sure that his sword was at the very least given to someone worthy of it.
“No,” Barristan held it out for him to take. “I figured my lord would appreciate a gift from his master at arms.”
The title was cover for the older knight. He would stay at Winterfell when he could to watch Visenya, but he would help train a new set of warriors for the future defense of the North.
“Hold onto it for now, I'll let lord Rickard decide on what to do with it.” The sword was styled for horse riders and it would have been perfect for him but he didn't earn it or have it bestowed to him by its previous owner. So he resisted the urge to take it. “Make sure that my banner is raised high Ser Barristan, I want everyone to see it from the Wall to the Neck.”
Ser Barristan nodded and barked orders for the men to raise Mark's personal banner. It was the same as the old Ryswell banner, but the black border and horse head were now white. This banner would signify a new era in the North for his house, one that was now completely loyal to house Stark.
Lord Harlon Frost, outside of Brier Wood Keep, Midnight
Harlon waited patiently in the clearing for his brother to appear. He could see his brother's keep and he could hear the fighting taking place.
Artos panted as he ran into the clearing, but stopped when he saw Harlon even in the moonlight.
“You,” His brother growled. “Are you responsible for that?!” He pointed at his besieged castle.
“I am,” Harlon nodded once. “Did you think that you could get away with it, brother?”
“Get away with what?”
“Your plan to put our cousin in place of Ned's children.”
“What madness are you speaking -”
Light erupted from Harlon's hand and it shot towards a tree that he brother was standing by. The tree exploded and Artos flinched away from it.
“I am not in the mood for games, Artos.”
His brother sneered, “Is that judgment I hear in your voice little brother? What right do you have to judge me?”
“When you endanger those I care about, I have every right!” Harlon snapped. “My wife is with child, your niece or nephew will be born within the next two months! Rei is the mother of your niece -”
“That little bitch is no niece of mine!” Harlon dodged a knife made of shadow and smoke as his brother roared. “And that bastard is no brother of mine! He is he reason our mother is dead!”
“Our mother is dead because she willingly and knowingly spread her legs for someone else to upset our father.” Harlon reminded him coldly, knocking another blade away. “Father was devastated when he found out and demanded justice. As was his right.”
“Our father was a fucking fool,” Artos snarled. “He should have been the Warden of the North. Our uncle has lead us to near ruin with his dealings in the South. Now some Southron spawn is to be my leader? I will not have it, and neither will the other houses!”
“Your allies are dead or destroyed,” Harlon said softly. “No one of significance will survive and if they do, they will face Lord Rickard and his sword. Surrender, Artos, and maybe you can be given exile.”
“Oh is that all?” Artos asked sarcastically. “And what exile will I face? Am I to be branded, like an eastern slave and thrown over the Wall to die? Am I to face exile in the east with the shit heads that claim to be our kin where I am most likely to die? That is not acceptable.”
“You have no choice, now surrender, its over!”
“No, little brother,” Harlon watched as his brothers eyes turned black and smoke wrapped around his body like a heavy cloak. “I decide when this is over.” Artos disappeared into the darkness but Harlon knew that he was still here. He was always there.
Harlon dodged a strike that was aimed at his back before he unleashed an explosion of light from his body. He glowed and his brother was on the ground in front of him, wailing and covering his eyes.
“You've blinded me!” Artos cried, writhing on the ground still.
“You always tried to sneak up on me when we were children, you should have learned some new tricks brother,” Harlon said with a catch in his throat. He drew Three Ravens Folly and the sound caught the attention of his brother.
“Harlon wait-”
“The darkness was always your ally,” Harlon spoke over the pleas of his brother. “I thought nothing of it really. To cloak yourself in shadow is a real gift, one that has served the North well in the past. I thought you would do the same.”
“Please-”
Harlon readied his sword, “But you never intended to help the North, you would send it in to chaos. You refused my offer, and you are too dangerous to move, so let me show you the light on the other side instead.”
“Har - gurk!”
Harlon shoved his Valyrian blade through his brothers throat as tears ran down his face, “Give mother and father my love.” Gods, forgive me for what I have done. He thought falling to his knees beside his brothers body. He howled in grief and the glow around his body faded into nothing. The only way to know if he was still alive was the sound of his sobs.
Lord Aelyr Dayne, Starfall
Various battles had taken place across the North and some of the noble families were destroyed or captured. Among them were the Ryswells, The Whitehills, the Warricks, what was left of the Glennmores and Boltons and their assorted Bannerman.
What was happening on an island in the borders of Dorne was not as dramatic as this but it was dramatic none the less. Lord Aelyr Dayne was being accosted by his wife, her brother Manfrey and his cousin Gerold. He sat calmly while his wife berated him for his treason against her house.
“Your house?” He interrupted. “And which house is that? Surely not house Dayne, since I have acted in the best interest of this house.”
“And how is it in House Dayne's best interest to allow a slight against my cousin to live?” Prince Manfrey snapped at him.
“Yes, we know about the little bastard girl that Rhaegar had with the wolf bitch,” Gerold said when Aelyr merely raised an eyebrow. “You call yourself a Dornishmen when you allowed that thing to live?” He scoffed. “Disgraceful.”
“Is your knowledge of the princess supposed to impress me, cousin?” Aelyr drawled, leaning back into his chair. “Because if it was, I'm afraid that its not all that impressive. Neither is this show of force.” He held up a hand. “I've listened to you drone on about my supposed treason. Now let me tell you the truth of it. House Targaryen may yet rule again, and I will follow the rightful heir of the throne. That happens to be little Visenya in the North.
“I know about your plans to try and arrest me today and that you have already enacted plans to reveal Visenya's true identity. A shame really, I envisioned the gobsmacked faces of the fools in the capitol and I may yet miss it.”
He wasn't going to tell them that Lord Rickard had smuggled a message to him informing him of what was to happen. If it were not for the method in which the message was delivered, he might have dismissed it outright.
“By order of House Martell, you are charged with treason and I am to take you into custody.” Manfrey tried to hide his surprise but failed. His wife gawped at him and his cousin smirked. “Ser Gerold will help my sister run this island until Allyria is old enough to rule.”
“I suppose I should also point out that you'll never take me alive?” Or that you haven't even told your cousin Doran about this? He thought snidely.
“That might be preferable,” Gerold smirked. Aelyr sighed.
“What happens next is your fault entirely,” He shoved his desk forward and launched himself backward into the air and landing on the mantle above his hearth. His wife and brother by law couldn't dodge the desk in time so they crashed to the floor.
Gerold sailed over the table and launched himself at his cousin. Aelyr grabbed a sword from the wall and met his cousin head on in the air. Their swords clashed as they struck at one another before the broke apart and bounded off of the walls to repeat the same thing.
Manfrey attempted to get his sister out of the room but the household guards interrupted them, pointing spears in their direction.
“Let us pass,” Leona growled when they didn't budge, “I am lady Dayne and I demand that you let us pass!”
“No can do, my lady. Lord Aelyr said to let no one leave the castle, including you.” Ser Devon Sand grinned nastily at her.
“My men will get us out,” Manfrey reminded him that there were still men loyal to them inside of Starfall.
“Your men are dead,” Aelyr's voice sounded from behind them. That was when they noticed that the sound of clashing swords was no longer heard and they turned. Aelyr was covered in blood and he wielded two swords now instead of one. Ser Gerold's head was on one part of the floor, his body on another.
“They've been dead since you've tried to chastise me. If you hadn't taken so long, you might have had a chance to escape.”
“The ships-” Leona stopped when there was a crash of thunder and a flash of lightning from outside of the castle.
“Stars Fall but We Remain, those are the words of my house.” Aelyr said quietly. “Look outside the window.”
Both of Lewyn Martell's children went to the window and almost gasped. The sky around the island had darkened but they could see sunlight and clear skies in the distance. It was as if a storm appeared out of nowhere. There were bright lights in the sky, like stars but both of them new it to be impossible since it was still day time.
Then those lights fell from the skies and onto the ships, destroying them.
“No! Those are my men!” Manfrey turned around abruptly to yell at Aelyr. “Stop this! I command it in the name of house Martell!”
“Stars Fall but We Remain.” Aelyr repeated with a cold look in his eyes. “This is the house of the First Men, not up jumped foreigners who think that they are in command. Devon, take these two to the dungeons, I want them out of my sight.”
The siblings fought and shouted protests of all kinds but Aelyr kept them out of his mind. He looked out the window and saw the destroyed ships that had come to 'protect' his home from 'invaders'. He scoffed, they must have thought that he was stupid to not see through the lie. He thought of turning off the wards but he may need them for the time being. Prince Doran was a sensible ruler but his brother was a damn snake, who knows what he was going to do.
Aelyr sighed before leaving to go get clean. He needed to have a conversation with his children.