This chapter was edited by Gladiusx.


On the road to Karhold

A particularly big hole in the dirt road woke Myrcella up from her nap, bumping her head on Rosamund's shoulder. Her friend quickly steadied her as the last vestiges of drowsiness melted away; she stifled a yawn and noticed the wheelhouse had stopped.

"Did you have a good nap, Cella?"

"It was good until that bump." Myrcella fought back another yawn; the specially designed wheelhouse looked luxurious on the outside and was doubly so on the inside, now that they didn't feel every rock or hole on the road…unless it was a big one.

"That is good to hear, you have not been sleeping well lately."

Myrcella nodded absentmindedly; that was not exactly true; she had been napping a lot during the day and losing sleep at night. Her dreams have always been interesting lately, even if she could barely remember them. She was certain she had met with the Maiden and Percy's father a few times in them, but whenever she tried to recall what they talked about, her memory would fail her. Strangely, Cella had the impression that once she got back to sleep, her memories would return as she dreamt.

"So why are we stopping? Where's Sansa?"

It had been a few days since that incident with Percy, and the Princess somehow learned of the death of her brother. Myrcella had wept for her; she recalled poor Brandon Stark from her visit to Winterfell. So energetic and so full of life, yet it was all tragically ripped away from him through that terrible fall. It was later in the Red Keep when Myrcella learned that he had survived yet would never be able to walk again. That he would still fight to defend his home from the barbaric Ironborn even when crippled spoke a lot about his character.

She could not imagine how it would feel if she lost Tommen. 'Not Joffrey, she wouldn't miss him at all,' a ruthless part of her mind whispered. He could slip and fall down the stairs and break his neck, and Myrcella did not think she would mourn him.

"Something has caught her attention, and she left to investigate with Percy and Meera," Wylla answered.

The wheelhouse was spacious enough for a dozen people to sit comfortably with a table between them, yet there were only five of them acting as Sansa's ladies in waiting. The table could be removed and pillows slotted overhead would be placed in its place when it was time for them to sleep. There was even a small furnace under the wheelhouse that warmed them when the weather got too cold, like now. All the ladies were dressed lightly due to how warm the wheelhouse was, but Cella and Rosa still opted for furs as they were unused to the cold nights of the North.

Summer snows–they had been a constant as they traveled in the North. While Cella and Rosa had been ecstatic the first day the snow fell, soon, the novelty wore off when the cold seeped into their bones so much that they were loathe to leave the wheelhouse. To think this was only summer…Myrcella dreaded to imagine what winter was like.

Sansa had them on a fast pace since leaving the Dreadfort, and they barely stopped for camp; being able to sleep and keep warm during the nights helped greatly. The wheelhouse was a gift from Lord Manderly to Sansa, and despite Myrcella having used her mother's monstrous wheelhouse that needed forty horses to drive, this one was far more comfortable and hardly broke down, thanks to Percy's designs. Some sort of metal springs kept the wheelhouse stable, while the wheels were more metal surrounded with cowhide rather than wood.

Percy claimed that if he had gotten his hands on some material called rubber, he could have made the wheelhouse even more efficient. Considering they had been able to travel over two hundred miles from the Dreadfort almost to Karhold in a sennight, on a road that was more of an animal trail than even a dirt road, Myrcella could not fathom how much more efficient it could be.

It's been a sennight since they left that dreadful castle; even Myrcella could tell there was something inherently wrong about it. Sansa did not want to stay too long in it, just long enough for Percy and the rest of the men to round up all the Bolton men-at-arms from the surrounding lands and give them a choice.

Swear fealty to the Starks or the Black.

Normally, such an extreme and ruthless method would be heavily frowned upon, but the Maester of the castle, who had convinced the master at arms to surrender without a fight, had brought them ill news from the south. The Northern army was defeated outside of Harrenhal, and Roose Bolton was slain by her Uncle Jaime.

Myrcella would not deny feeling ecstatic that her uncle had escaped captivity, and a part of her cheered her family on finally securing a victory. Yet, while it was certainly terrible news for King Robb, it was the best news for Sansa as she had declared that with the death of the Bolton line, the Dreadfort and all its vassals, lands, and titles were now folded under the control of House Stark.

Within a fortnight, the Stark lands had nearly doubled in size after the occupation of the Hornwood lands and now the annexation of the Bolton lands. Myrcella knew that it was only a temporary measure due to the war, a way to encourage warriors and nobles to garner achievements so that after the war, the Starks would dole out lands, lordships, and castles as rewards. Thinking about Castle Hornwood had Myrcella nearly giggle; the keep was completely torched after the stubborn Bolton men refused to surrender, and it was only luck that the maester's tower was built away from it and that the Hornwoods' treasury was underground.

It didn't stop the ravens from flying away from the castle in a panic. It might be mean, but Myrcella found the sight of the Hornwood Maester trying to catch them incredibly funny. Not so much the screams of those foolish men who burned to death, Myrcella could not stand the smell of roasted meat for days after that.

Regardless, whoever the new owner would have his work cut out for him, it still forced Sansa to leave some of the men who accompanied her to rebuild as much as possible. The two hundred Hornwood archers also remained along with some of Sansa's personal guard, both to train them and recruit more men and send them to White Harbor, where the rest of Sansa's army was gathering.

It was similar in the lands surrounding the Weeping Water. With no lord to follow, the Bolton vassals were eager to swear fealty to House Stark, especially when the alternative was taking the Black. After securing the loyalty of nearly fifteen hundred Bolton men, five hundred of them horsemen, Sansa sent all the foot back to White Harbor on the fleet. Myrcella heard Percy note that it was too easy to round up the Bolton men because they had already been mustered - more proof that the late Lord Bolton had been scheming.

Now, a thousand horsemen, a mix of Bolton (now Stark men), Sansa's personal Stark guard, Manderly, and Locke men, accompanied them to the last house on the eastern coast of the North–The Karstarks of Karhold.

They had received word that the Umbers had opted to reinforce the Wall rather than join them. Myrcella had been present in the Dreadfort when Sansa received news that her late brother Bran had sent most of the Stark men, Mountain Clansmen, and the Umbers to the Wall to fight against a Wilding army.

After what amounted to fond exasperation at her brother, Sansa eventually approved and opted against visiting Last Hearth to recruit more men. Considering the latest news from the Shadow Tower, which had the wilding army at nearly a hundred thousand, it was clearly a prudent if costly choice, even if it eventually resulted in a weakened Winterfell and contributed to Bran's death.

Myrcella sighed sadly; men plan while the gods laugh.

Another bump on the road reminded her of their destination. The Karstarks were distant kin to the Starks of Winterfell. A score of ships from the fleet would continue to Skagos and attempt to recruit the Skagosi, and if all goes well, by the time Myrcella and the army arrive at Karhold, the fleet would have returned from Skagos and docked at the port near the castle.

They had just crossed the Last River and were a few days away from Karhold when Percy had his incident.

"Do you think the Princess will be alright?"

Myrcella turned to Wylla, her formerly green hair now a bright blue. The bodacious lady was clearly appealing to Percy, not even being subtle in flirting with him - though the demigod seemed reticent in reciprocating. Surprisingly, Cella noticed that Sansa did not mind and could have sworn she saw Wylla whispering urgently with the Princess after Percy waved her away after another failed attempt.

Myrcella wondered what was happening in their princess' head and if her pregnancy was causing her to act irrationally. It couldn't be. Sansa had been meticulous throughout their tour and too level-headed for her to suddenly trip.

"I believe she is much stronger than we think." Cella finally replied, "She grieves for Bran, yet she understands she cannot afford to dally."

"Yes, the Ironborn are still a threat. I still can't believe they nearly captured the Heart of the North." Myriame Locke, a willowy and lively girl a couple of years older than them with tawny hair and brown eyes, chimed in. "My brother told me that House Dustin was equal to the Manderlys in power and should be capable of fielding nearly five thousand men. I recall Grandfather Ondrew mentioning that Lady Barbrey Dustin only sent the minimum of troops south with King Robb, yet Donnel later sent news that Ser Damon Dustin had disobeyed her orders and took five hundred of the best Barrow Knights south."

"That should still leave them with four thousand men," Branda Flint, a reserved girl with dark hair and blue eyes, hummed in thought. "I confess not to know a lot about martial affairs, but my brother Robin once mentioned that when it comes to sieges, the attackers must have at least three times the number of defenders to prevail. How many of the Ironborn are there again?"

"From what Grandfather mentioned, somewhere between fifteen and twenty thousand outside Barrowton alone, but that was before they started their siege," Wylla muttered hesitantly, causing the mood to drop. "They should be fine, Barrowton is still a city of about twenty thousand and had plenty of warning to call their banners to garrison the city. If the reavers failed to take it after two moons, I doubt they would be able to take it now."

Myrcella was beginning to find it surreal that noble ladies were so seriously discussing matters of war instead of whatever insipid things she was more used to hearing in the Red Keep. She knew the North was harsher, putting greater emphasis on martial matters and planning, and even heard about the women of Bear Island taking up arms and fighting with the men, yet Cella did not expect her fellow handmaidens to so eagerly discuss warfare.

"Lady Dustin must be quite the character to be able to defend a siege against such daunting foes," Myrcella commented, trying to insert herself into the discussion.

"Hah! You would think so, but my grandfather knows for a fact that she fled to her maiden house at first sight of Ironborn sails and is unlikely to return until they're gone." Wylla scoffed, looking at her pitifully, causing Cella to scowl - the Manderly maiden giggled as she pinched her cheek. "Ah, you are so adorable when you pout, Myrcella."

The other ladies tittered, and even Rosamund, that traitor, chortled, yet Myrcella was not amused. "I was not pouting!"

"Sure, sure." The minx grinned at her, and Myrcella scowled even harder, causing the older girl to burst into unladylike laughter. "Oh, you are so precious!"

Before Myrcella could give her a piece of her mind, Myriame chimed in. "So, if Lady Dustin is not in Barrowton, who is leading the defense?"

"I'm not certain. If Ser Damon had not gone south, he would have been the ideal man to lead the defense. Without him, I'm not sure, but whoever is in charge must be highly respected and competent to keep the reavers at bay for so long."

More martial discussions. Couldn't they change the subject to something Myrcella was more knowledgeable about? Maybe about marine life, ships, navigation, sea monsters, or weather patterns. Wait…since when did she know about such matters?

"Didn't Lord Manderly send some forces to harass them?" Rosa asked, bringing Myrcella out of her thoughts. "Surely, the squids would not have any real cavalry to threaten the lancers of White Harbor?"

"Yes, Grandfather did send hundreds of lancers, but they lack numbers to make a difference. Still, their presence ensures the reavers could not threaten the many smaller castles and holdfasts along the Kings Road." Wylla smiled at Rosa at the subtle compliment of the Manderly forces. Myrcella shook her head inwardly; even Rosamund joined in on the discussion! "Barrowton should not fall easily, especially as the Ryswells would not leave their investment to fall. They have to send troops there, or else all their work would be for naught, though, considering Barbrey Dustin has no children, the Ryswells don't stand to gain much from the city anymore."

"So they would refuse to muster in defense of the North?" Branda narrowed her eyes, "greater houses have been attainted for less."

"They did send a significant amount of their horses south with the King, though it is true they have far more men to call upon than what they showed so far." Wylla smirked as she flicked a strand of her blue hair behind her neck. "With the fall of Torrhen's Square and the Tallhart heir in their company, perhaps they would profit more if they helped him to regain his castle instead. I recall they had a few nubile daughters to throw at Benfred in exchange for their full support–and Barbrey did travel for a wedding, supposedly."

The girls muttered and tittered about the Ryswells once more grasping through their daughters to gain more power and allies. Myrcella had heard about how Barbrey Ryswell supposedly was planned to be betrothed to Brandon Stark, only for it to fall through when the Tullys came calling. She sighed inwardly; such was the fate of all noble ladies, to be traded away by their families for connections and alliances. At times, she wondered what Sansa had planned for her, but the princess had been surprisingly tight-lipped about any discussion of marriages.

"You need not worry about it, Cella. There is no need to rush."

Myrcella frowned at the Maiden's cryptic assurance followed by her customary giggle. Sometimes, she felt like the Maiden was in on some jest that Myrcella had no way of knowing.

"In the end," Myrcella coughed, grabbing the girls' attention. "We can only pray for swift winds for the fleet to take the troops faster and return north and for the Karstarks to not delay the Princess' demands for troops."

"Well said, Myrcella," The door to the wheelhouse opened, and Sansa Stark was helped in by Percy; her belly had swelled as her pregnancy progressed, yet the princess did not show any sign of weakness that was usual with expecting mothers. Only grim determination, especially after the death of her brother. "Yet, it appears that fools shall always grasp higher than their station when left to their own devices."

Percy nodded to them solemnly before closing the door and returning to his steed. Soon, they were all moving again, but Myrcella could not help but note that the princess' consort had been melancholic since he had somehow witnessed Brandon Stark's death.

Turning to Sansa, she asked what was on the rest of the girls' minds. "What happened, Princess?"

Sansa stared out of the window for a heartbeat before closing the shutters and lounging on several pillows. Wylla was instantly by her side and rubbing her shoulders.

"We intercepted a raven heading south from Karhold," Sansa provided, humming thoughtfully. "The castellan is communicating with the Lannisters, and what I found in the scroll is enough to accuse him of treason. It appears Lord Rickard Karstark had perished in the Westerlands, and with the death of two of his sons and the incarceration of his heir, lordship to Karhold came into question. The Lannisters have begun courting him."

Myrcella wondered how they could have intercepted a raven, but a shadow from the open window had her note of the Princess' beautiful moon hawk gliding next to the wheelhouse before landing on the saddle of Meera Reed's horse. Cella could have sworn it blinked at her before she found Meera smirking. The Crannogwoman had an open invitation to join them as she, too, was a lady in waiting, yet the adventurous girl opted to ride with the men. She took her duty as Sansa's shadow far too seriously, though considering even Percy respected her abilities, Myrcella had no right to judge her for it.

"How could they possibly hope to get away with such treachery?" Branda asked in wonder. "Their troops are in the south, and such perfidity would never be forgiven by the rest of the Northmen."

"They would not need to directly act against House Stark or the North. All they need to do is to call back their troops, citing wildling incursions or a similar excuse." Myriame shrugged, "All Old Arnolf needs is for Harrion Karstark to mysteriously die in captivity, and one of his sons can claim the lordship."

"How dare they?!" Wylla growled indignantly, yet her hands did not pause as she worked on Sansa's neck, causing the Princess to close her eyes in bliss for a moment. "Even if they somehow manage to get Harrion killed, Alys would be the Lady of Karhold, not that gold-gorged old goat or his get!"

"It would be a simple matter to force Alys to marry one of his many descendants. The man has great-grandsons if I recall correctly." Myriame shrugged again. Myrcella glanced at Rosamund in confusion; they did not know enough about the internal politics of the North despite their studies. Judging by Sansa's unamused look, she did not look like she was willing to entertain such fools.

"Do you know about the situation in Karhold, Wylla? I confess I'm not very knowledgeable about the extended family of the Karstarks, though I did meet Alys Karstark a few years ago." Sansa glanced at the Manderly maiden, who nodded enthusiastically, her hands continuing to press and rub the Princess's shoulders. Myrcella was beginning to feel jealous and wondered if she could have Rosa give her a rubbing as well.

"I certainly do. Grandfather had Wyn, and I learn all we could about every House of note in the North and even some in the Vale and the Riverlands." Wylla sent a sly smile at Sansa as she edged her face closer to her and almost purred, "What do you have in mind, Princess?"

For the first time since the death of her brother, Sansa Stark smiled, but Myrcella only shivered; it was not a pleasant smile.

A*H*M

A few days later

Karhold

"Princess Sansa, welcome to Karhold." A grey-eyed, dark-haired girl greeted them warmly, though she was dressed in a gown of plain black wool–the color of mourning. "You honor us with your presence."

"Thank you, Alys. It is good to see you again and in good health."

"I have just received word from Winterfell." Sansa's face turned wooden as Alys smiled sadly. "You have my deepest condolences for your brother's passing. Brandon died a warrior's death and shall be fondly remembered by all."

"Thank you for your kind words…"

As his wife went through the motions of noble courtesies that Percy found far too stiff and irksome to follow, almost reminding him of how the gods demanded to be treated back home, he inspected the crowded grounds of the castle. It was teeming with soldiers and the castle's residents; several lines of troops stood at attention, showing much better discipline than the many levies that had joined their army. Their equipment was also decent, matched only by their grim faces; it reminded Percy of the Bolton men he had convinced to join their army.

Percy's gaze swept past them before falling on the men flanking the lady of Karhold. There was a very old man who looked like he would collapse with the next breeze though Percy instantly felt distaste for his smarmy smile and shifting eyes. Another looked very similar, except he was fat and soft, reminding Percy of people back home who visited McDonald's way too much; even the morbidly obese Wyman Manderly looked tougher than this dude.

There were a few other men, boys really, standing in a line behind them–the traditional place for cousins and lesser relatives of Alys Karstark, according to what Sansa taught him. Nothing about them caught Percy's interest, though their gazes lingered on Sansa's chest longer than he liked; an older man caught him glaring at them and subtly elbowed the younger ones, who quickly averted their eyes.

Percy gazed at the man. He was a strong and fierce-looking dude, probably in his forties or fifties, with salt and pepper hair and a thick beard of the same color. Tall, powerfully built, heavily armed, and armored, and giving him a cautious glance, this was clearly a well-trained warrior, most likely the master-at-arms. Percy glanced at the old fart from earlier and noticed similarities between all of them, so this must be the treacherous castellan–no wonder he gave him sleazy car salesman vibes, almost as bad as Gabe.

Percy grimaced, nah, nobody could be as bad as Gabe.

"May I introduce my consort, Lord Perseus Jackson, Protector of the North until my eldest brother returns," Sansa waved at him then, and Percy gave a polite nod at the pretty girl inspecting him from head to toe–she must have found something she liked for she nodded back with a demure smile. "He shall be leading the army in my name to repel the invaders."

The master-at-arms jerked, a vein forming on his neck as he opened his mouth to no doubt protest, only to catch Percy smirking at him.

"As my wife said, I am Perseus. Some call me a sorcerer, but I prefer Percy. I'll be your commander moving forward, and I expect discipline and obedience from all of you. Anyone who has a problem can come and talk to me about their grievances, but fair warning." Percy raised his hand, causing a loud rumbling to fill the castle as people screamed in terror at the sight of the castle's moat emptying and a giant wall of water forming over the castle–the soldiers muttered curses and oaths as they unsheathed their weapons. "I am a little tired and have no patience for scheming and horseshit."

The Karstark's eyes all widened, and the sleazy guy's jaw dropped as his legs shivered and he held on to his walking cane tightly. One of the younger boys kept looking up at the wall of water until he fell on his ass. The warrior from earlier recovered from the shock well enough to glance at the lady of the castle. Alys scrutinized both him and Sansa for a moment before nodding to the master-at-arms, who waved his soldiers down and turned back to Sansa.

"We have all heard legendary tales of your sorcerer husband, Princess Sansa. Suffice it to say, you have proved that those tales could not hold a candle to the real thing." Alys beckoned a terrified servant who miraculously did not drop the plate of bread and salt he held. "I offer you bread and salt and hope guest rights would assure you of our good intentions to join your cause."

Honestly, Percy did not like such a heavy-handed method to display his power, but Sansa convinced him that it was necessary. It's the reality of feudal society; while oaths of fealty guaranteed their loyalty, sometimes it was necessary to remind the vassals who held the power. It was also a show of force to assuage anyone's worries about suborning themselves to a young foreigner like him.

But there was also another reason, which had to do with their little spy issue. Once they had partook in bread and salt, Sansa gestured for him to relax, and Percy gently lowered the water back into the moat.

"Thank you, Alys. I must ask you to forgive such heavy-handedness, but we are at war, and I cannot afford to waste time." Sansa beckoned to the rest of the girls standing by the carriage. "Please provide rooms for my ladies in waiting, but I need to discuss a matter of great importance with you posthaste. Perhaps in the lord's solar?"

If Alys Karstark was insulted by Sansa promptly cutting the traditional ceremonial greetings and other courtesies, she did not show it, merely smiling in amusement as she gestured for a matronly woman to approach. "Certainly. Alarra shall show them to their rooms and see to their needs. Come, let us go. Uncle Arnolf and Uncle Cregan shall join us."

Alys led them through the castle, the crotchety old man and the heavily armed warrior following them at a respectable distance. Percy glanced at the calm lady of the castle; the girl was cute, not exactly a sensual beauty like Sansa or Wylla, but she was tall and slender. She also had a very good head on her shoulders as Percy truly expected her to at least scream in terror at his display of magic.

"You must have had an exhausting sennight on the road. Last we heard, you were at the Hornwood. Imagine our surprise when our scouts saw a large army marching towards us a few days away." Alys broke the slightly awkward silence that had settled as they left the yard. "And congratulations on your marriage. I see its fruits are already blooming."

Sansa's cold mask melted into a demure smile as she practically glued herself to Percy's arm. "Yes, Percy is an excellent husband. The finest one can ever ask for. Strong and energetic, he leads the men well, and even the horses seem to love him, pushing themselves harder on the road."

"Aw shucks, Sans. You're gonna make me blush." Percy gave her a lopsided grin. "You know I always have plenty of energy for anything you ask."

Sansa giggled, even as Alys' face reddened, and she coughed to hide her embarrassment. "We have received your raven from White Harbor, and while my castellan strongly advised me against mustering another force, I recognized the dire situation we are in. We sent a raven to White Harbor to properly coordinate with you, but we never got a reply; it's why our troops are camped outside the castle. Uncle Arnolf had been pressuring me to disband them, for they have been eating through our food stores, and I was just about to do so until you arrived."

"I see. Your raven must have gotten lost." His wife subtly glanced at the two men following them before tugging on the hem of his sleeve–Percy nodded as he trailed slightly backward to cover them with his body while also keeping an eye on the two men for any sign of treachery. "Nevertheless, I appreciate your act of loyalty, Alys, and you will be greatly rewarded–Oh, pardon me." Sansa pretended to trip and held onto Alys' shoulder, and the girl quickly grabbed her elbow to steady her. His wife thanked her before whispering something urgent in her ear, causing Alys' breathing to hitch slightly before she nodded seriously.

Soon, they approached a large oak door, and the Lady of Karhold led them inside, where the Maester was waiting for them with a bundle of scrolls and reports. Alys dismissed the guards outside the door and bid them in. Once the door was closed, with Arnolf and Cregan standing respectfully beside him, Sansa withdrew a scroll of paper and gave it to Alys.

.

.

.

The next day

"Well, this was easier than expected."

Percy smiled at his wife as they stood on a balcony from the lord's quarters of the Karstark castle. Karhold was a strong castle built on two hills, split into two keeps, and connected by two drawbridges. The smaller keep acted as the lord's residence and had the Maester's tower, while the larger keep was a series of barracks and other things one could expect to find in a castle. There was a small godswood inside the castle, but Percy later learned it was a new one as the original godswood was outside the castle, in the middle of the small port town built on the bay to the south.

Naturally, he had claimed both.

"Yes, we have been lucky with first the Dreadfort and then this." Sansa joined him after they had finished discussing the mustering of the Karstark troops with Cregan and Alys Karstark - they had been given the lord's quarters for their brief stay. "With this, we can finally take the fight to the Ironborn and cleanse the North of invaders."

Contrary to their expectations, their arrival in Karhold had gone relatively smoothly. They had feared the castellan had already subverted the castle, but Percy and Sansa realized that Arnolf Karstark's treachery had not yet taken hold.

Even after Sansa revealed the raven scroll and accused the old castellan of treachery, the expected defiance and trouble did not happen.

Percy's mere presence was enough to deter any potential violence, especially after his earlier display of power, yet thankfully, everything went peacefully enough. Predictably, Arnolf denied any wrongdoing, but the Maester's testimony that his only raven to Maidenpool was missing and confirming the scroll's handwriting to be Arnolf's was proof enough for Sansa. While his wife could remove the castellan, it would not be a good sign at all if she was seen meddling in the affairs of her brother's vassals–it was bad enough they practically took the castle hostage with Percy's stunt, but apparently, shows of force was one thing but forcefully interfering was another entirely.

Feudal societies were weird. Or was it Westeros that was weird? Nah, probably just the North.

Thankfully, Alys also recognized the handwriting, and as the acting lady of the castle, her words held even more weight than Sansa's. It helped that Cregan Karstark did not try to defend his father, and Percy could tell the older man had no clue of his father's treachery. Or if he did, he hid it very well.

Nevertheless, Arnolf Karstark was a wily old goat and knew where the winds were blowing from. He insisted that none of his family knew of his treachery and that it was the only correspondence he had with Kevan Lannister. Despite being nearly seventy and long past his fighting days, he declared he should join the Watch for his moment of weakness before Sansa could declare a fitting punishment. It would seem petty and unseemly if Sansa insisted on executing him, as was her original plan. In the end, she accepted the outcome, and the man was taken to one of the docked Night's Watch cogs, which were returning with supplies to the Wall.

"Lucky? I beg to differ. You heard what Alys said. They sent a raven to White Harbor to confirm your orders." Percy shook his head in dismay, "We know it never arrived, probably got lost or shot by a hungry peasant, but still…this long detour could have been avoided."

"I know, my love. I know," Sansa hugged his arm as they watched the war camp outside the walls; Karstark had gathered nearly two thousand men, the entirety of all their remaining forces, and had been busy training them since their raven arrived. "But it is the will of the gods. Look at the bright side–we managed to uncover a dastardly plot by a greedy old man, and the Skagosi had answered our call."

"Yes, another point to my argument. Unlucky is an understatement."

Percy chuckled ruefully as he gazed out of the balcony at the port town, the setting sun casting a long shadow from the high cliffs to the west. Their fleet was anchored in the wide natural harbor, supplemented by the smaller and rougher boats of the Skagosi. Lord Manderly had long sent a fast boat to the volcanic island shortly after their arrival in White Harbor with Sansa's orders for them to muster. The boat had never returned, and they assumed the worst, but thankfully, there was no foul play. The boat had run aground on the rocky shores of Skagos, but the envoys were still able to fulfill their mission. None of the houses on Skagos had Maesters, so no raven was sent in reply. When the fleet arrived, the Skags were eager to join in the war, though Percy was certain they expected a lot of loot and good pay.

"So, what do you think of our chances in dislodging the Ironborn?" Sansa leaned her head on his shoulder as he glanced at the Karstark troops being trained in the war camp. "The Bolton and Karstark men seem well-trained and armed, but I know the majority of the men are still levies and not really experienced, but–"

"They are greener than a vegan's breakfast shake." Percy shook his head, ignoring Sansa's confusion. "Hardly any of them are soldiers, and it doesn't help that even after scraping the barrel, we will still be outnumbered. Those Ironborn are supposed to be the best of the best that the Iron Isles have to offer. They have the numbers, the experience, and from what I hear, are also better armed."

Sansa smiled lightly as she gripped his arm tightly, "Yet they don't have you."

"I appreciate the flattery, baby, but I'm still just one man."

"And you are the one man who shall make all the difference in the world." Sansa's words were full of conviction as her blue eyes stared deeply into his green–her grief over her brother's death had turned into an insatiable hunger for vengeance. "I have complete faith in you, husband." A pleasant shiver crawled up Percy's back, "I trust no one else to lead my armies to battle and liberate my home from all invaders."

"Not your brother's armies?"

"After all the trouble I've been through to gather them? No, I think not. Robb will have to suffice with me returning Ice to him." Sansa giggled as her hands pawed into his light tunic as she groped his pectorals–Percy had not bothered to dress for the cold; the more weirwoods he claimed, the less the elements bothered him. Almost as if the North itself was welcoming him as a part of the land. "But forget about my brother. Tell me, what is it that has you wary of fighting near Barrowton?"

"Not so much as wary, but I don't think my water powers will work well there." Percy's hands unconsciously found his wife's gravid belly before climbing to her heavy tits. "It might have to do with that demon god infesting the Sunset Sea."

"I see," Sansa raised her head and kissed him, and Percy responded passionately. "Nevertheless, I still have complete faith in you. Now, come, husband. You have neglected your marital duties for too long."

Percy chuckled as he lifted her in his arms and they made their way to the spacious lord's quarters, all the while kissing his wife hungrily as they pawed their clothes off each other. Within a few heartbeats, Sansa was splayed on the large bed, naked as the day she was born, her red hair spread everywhere. That alone would have been enough to cause his cock to straighten to attention, yet her large belly somehow made her even sexier, and he had to use all his resolve to stop himself from ravishing her.

"Sorry, my love, but Donnis says I should avoid any coupling for a few more weeks." Sansa spread her arms as Percy stripped and joined her in bed, his hands groping her plump teats and his mouth latching on her perky pink nipples as they started leaking milk. "My, you are such a baby, going straight for my milk like that."

Percy hummed in delight as he nursed from his wife's tits, he never thought he would be so into it, yet she tasted exquisite! Sansa stroked his hair, and he hungrily fed from her, almost as if he was her babe, yet his rock-hard cock protested the neglect as it splayed out on his wife's pregnant belly, covering her belly button and the tip almost at her other side. Sansa giggled as she began stroking him, and soon, he found himself seated on the bedboard while his wife had his cock between her tits.

It did not take him long before he erupted and held Sansa's head as she greedily sucked from his tip. Rope after rope of his seed went down her gullet, and knowing the effect he had on her, Percy could only hum in contentment as he made sure his wife got her protein shake.

Gods that sounded so corny in his mind. Glancing down at the way his wife lovingly gulped every drop with pleasurable moans and a look of pure delight, told Percy that he might be understating things.

Soon, he finally finished, and Sansa withdrew from him, still licking the tip to catch any remaining seed. "As always, I find it ridiculous how that did nothing to your hardness."

True enough, his cock was still rock hard, and Percy grinned. "What can I say? Having such a sexy wife makes it hard to be satisfied with just once. Or twice."

"Or seven times." Sansa giggled before laying beside him and pointing his cock between her thighs. "I can't risk the child, so you will just have to be satisfied with my thighs."

Percy chuckled as he rocked his hips back and forth, sawing his dick between her thighs and over her puffy lips. "Might as well return the favor. Incidentally, is that why you've been sending Wylla my way?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Sansa's breathing hitched before he slapped her bubbly butt, causing her to yelp. "W-What was that for?!"

"Don't play coy with me, wife. Wylla might pretend to know what she's doing, but she's just a virgin girl who has never truly flirted with a man before."

Sansa tried to deny it once more, only for him to slap her ass again, earning himself a throaty moan. Percy paused; perhaps this was not working out as a punishment if she was enjoying it. "Oh, fine! I gave her leave to become your paramour if you desire. I even have her grandfather's blessing."

Percy would have been shocked at such a confession, but it spoke of how much he had gotten used to this world, and that chuckle was all the reaction he gave. "And what made you think I would approve of such a thing?"

"Oh? I thought you mentioned you liked Wylla. Would you rather be with one of the other girls? I saw you checking Alys out, and her betrothed died in the south, so she could be amiable to it–she also seemed interested in you. Branda, however, is a bit of a prude, but Myriame–"

"Not that silly!" Percy slapped her ass again, causing her to moan harder, her cheeks were red, and her breathing got harsher–was he that obvious in checking their host? He chuckled as he realized his wife was adopting his lingo and also checking other women for him. "What made you think I would want any other woman aside from you?"

"Oh, my sweet Percy. You have no idea what effect your words are having on meeee!" Sansa suddenly froze as he slapped her ass one last time just as he was midstroke. She moaned deeply, before kissing him hungrily as he felt his cock grow wet from her climax. "But believe me when I say that it is my sole decision for us to have another lover in bed. I approve of Wylla, and I would rather be the one to choose a paramour for you than someone sneaking into your bed."

"Okay, but why?" Percy still felt confused about the whole matter, even if a primal part of him was facepalming at refusing a willing woman to his bed, especially with his wife's approval–it did not help that he could not feel Poseidon in his mind, so he could not even blame his father for such thoughts. "Do you think I would not be able to keep my dick in my pants and go after the first hot chick when we are apart?"

"Well…" Sansa bit her lips, "You have to understand, Percy. It's in men's nature to desire more women, especially powerful men like you, doubly so during wartime. I won't be able to join you against the Ironborn. I would not risk my child joining you in battle even if I will be a distance away. Even my father had a secret paramour during the Rebellion and…"

"And?"

"You are special," Sansa said simply as she smiled brightly at him. "You already know about my meetings with the Maiden." Percy nodded hesitantly. "You are not human, Percy. Our children won't be either. They would be far more and we must think of their future–we cannot treat them like normal humans and children of nobility, especially our daughters. We cannot allow our blood to easily spread out to other houses. If we are lucky, we would have a daughter whom we could betroth to Robb's son this way the Starks shall endure, stronger than ever, but what about our own future House?"

"What about it?"

"It would be fine if a noble lady marries into our house; gods know we Starks collected magical blood like a girl would collect dolls, but our daughters? It would be the height of folly to allow them to marry into potentially rival houses. Especially if they inherit even a fraction of your powers."

"So your solution to that is… me having bastards?"

"Well, I'm sure I can work something out with Robb, and they can take your name while our trueborn keeps our new House name, which I'm still working on."

"Alright, let's assume your brother allows that. I still don't get the reasoning behind having me take another lover." Percy narrowed his eyes at his wife, "Because that is what will happen, Sansa. There is no way I would simply get some girl preggers, take the babe away, and send her on her way. I love you, Sansa, but you cannot ask me to do that."

Sansa beamed, "And that's why I love you, Percy. Not because of your power or what you bring to our children but because of your loyalty. I would never ask you to do such a thing, which is why I allowed Wylla to approach you."

"And then what? She will have my kids and…" Percy's eyes widened as he finally understood his wife's reasoning. "Oh, come on, Sansa! That would be incest!"

"Not as bad as the Targaryens," Sansa muttered, averting her gaze for a heartbeat. "Besides, as long as they are not full siblings, it should be fine. I think. Even then, I am looking at it long-term. Noble boys can marry into our family instead of the other way around, this way, our daughters remain close and their children can be betrothed to our other descendants. It would be smart if our grandchildren would have compatible blood for them to marry."

"They would still be cousins."

"And?" Sansa looked confused. "Incestuous relations are only between siblings, or parents and their children."

Percy gawked before recalling that the Starks had married their cousins and even a couple of uncles and nieces to combine claims–all those hours being forced to learn how to read had given him plenty of useless trivia about his new home. In fact, cousin marriage was common in Westeros, so perhaps their idea of incest is different from home.

"Don't forget, those Dragonlords never had any issues with marrying their siblings." Poseidon chose this moment to chime in. "Nothing genetic, at least, though I would argue their mad kings were a result of nurture rather than nature. Must be something in the air or the water, or maybe magic helps protect from any deformities."

"When did you pop in?"

"A little birdie told me you two were having a very fascinating talk." His Father chuckled in his mind. "But my, you are blessed with such an open-minded wife. A truly devious mind as well, for despite how much love and adoration I can sense from her, Sansa still does not allow that to affect her plans for both of your futures."

"I get it, but to encourage me to fuck other women and basically treat me like a breeding stud? I'm not sure if I should be flattered or annoyed."

"Do you believe she is abusing your trust and love? That she has an ulterior motive to her desire for you to have more women and children? That she would somehow endeavor to use your loyalty to chain you to her while preventing you from raising your children?"

"Absolutely not!" If there was one thing Percy was undoubtedly confident about, it was how mutual his feelings of love with Sansa were. He could not explain it, but the more he claimed the weirwoods of the North, the more he could tell what people around him felt or thought. Sansa's feelings of love towards him were bordering obsession, and if he focused a little bit, he could tell that if he refused her idea of him having paramours, she would understand and never bring it up again.

"So, why aren't you telling her no?" Poseidon asked in amusement. "Unless the idea appeals to you."

And that was the crux of the matter. Percy never imagined he would ever entertain cheating on his wife, but–

"My dear boy, it is not cheating when your wife and the other woman are fully onboard with the matter!" Poseidon sighed in exasperation. "Unlike me, who had to spend centuries convincing Amphitrite that the domains I embody sometimes control my nature, Sansa already understands that with you. Besides, I can tell that your lust and sexual appetite are only growing stronger. As you cannot fuck your wife silly every session, especially when she's pregnant, it's practically ingrained in the male psyche to spread your seed far and wide. Your wife has given her blessings and even has good political and rational reasoning behind her madness. Don't disparage the deep thoughts she invested in this."

"So you admit it's madness?"

"The good kind of madness, I assure you." Percy could practically hear the smug amusement in his father's tone. "After all, to maximize the diversity of the gene pool, Sansa would not stop at just one woman for you to breed. You really are lucky to have a woman like her."

"...I still think this is too complicated and will somehow fail anyway."

"If it's too complicated then leave it to your wife." Poseidon shrugged. "Just learn to enjoy it and don't question it too much."

"Percy? Are you alright?" Sansa asked worriedly, "I didn't scare you with all this talk, did I?"

"Of course not." Percy kissed her deeply before rocking his hips again, causing her to moan. "Just thinking about it."

And he would admit, as he fought the urge to plunge his cock deep into his wife's pussy, his Dad was right. Percy's urges have been steadily increasing. He never imagined he would face such a problem, but the more he fucked, the more he wanted more. It would be unfair to sate his lust on his wife alone, not when it could be harmful. Apparently, there was such a thing as 'too much fucking', though his body did not seem to get the memo.

"So, what do you think?" Sansa brought him out of his thoughts. "Lord Manderly has given his blessings, and Wylla is completely willing."

"How did you even convince Wyman of this?"

"Simple." Sansa snickered, "He had seen your powers firsthand, and a hint about allowing Wylla's child with you to foster in New Castle as a reward for all his help had him easily agreeing."

Percy was not too familiar with the politics behind fostering and such, but he filed it for later. "So, Wylla would basically be like a second wife?"

"Well, no. Westerosi law does not acknowledge polygyny, not since Maegor the Cruel and his madness. She would be our paramour, and we would care for any of her children with you like they are our own."

Percy nodded before slapping Sansa's ass once more, causing her to yelp and pout sexily at him. "Our Paramour?"

"W-Well, I will admit we've been getting close lately." Sansa averted her eyes shyly, causing Percy to smirk. "She's fun to have around and very talented when it comes to rubbing any sore muscles."

"Alright, alright. I won't give any promises, as I honestly don't know a lot about her yet. Let's wait until we are settled somewhere and properly get to know each other before we decide." Percy sped up his thrusts before feeling his balls contract as his climax approached; not wishing to dirty the bed, he let go of his wife. "Now, stop teasing me and tell me where you want it."

Sansa giggled as she latched onto his cock, and Percy groaned in satisfaction as he shot his load down her throat. About a minute later, he finally felt his cock soften slightly and slowly retracted it, leaving the tip in his wife's mouth as she sucked it one last time before releasing it with a loud pop and Sansa's content sigh. She shivered in delight as her cheeks heated up before laying on the bed with another sigh.

Percy plopped down beside her and hugged her closely, his shaft hardening once more, but he ignored it in favor of enjoying his wife's warmth as they slowly drifted to sleep.

Suddenly, a thought came to him. "What if our children disagree?" At Sansa's questioning hum, he elaborated. "What if we have a really wild daughter who would not accept any husband we choose for her? Didn't you say your sister was a wild hellion who would most likely kill her husband in his sleep during their first wedding night?"

Sansa froze before groaning in annoyance, "I didn't think about that, but I suppose we will cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Actually, I'm not really stoked to force my kids into marriages they don't like." Percy hummed, "But I suppose we will work together to properly raise our children and teach them to choose right. No way will I let some maid or maester raise our kids in our place."

"I never even thought of doing that, my love." Sansa yawned as she hugged him closer, "Now, enough talk and let us sleep."

Percy chuckled as he lifted the furs with his feet and covered them both. Worrying about the future was an exercise in futility, especially as they had a war to win before anything else.

Still, as Percy tried to adjust his still rock-hard cock, he began to seriously consider his wife's proposal.


In the Sea of Monsters book, we discover that Percy is a competent craftsman as he works with Annabeth to construct a chariot, not just any random chariot, but a magical one (kinda, sorta, if you squint hard enough.) For him to develop some quality-of-life inventions, such as suspension springs for carriages, is quite minor compared to other things I plan to show off later in the story.

Arnolf Karstark's schemes would not have happened in the spur of the moment, nor would he have dared to actually go through with them unless Robb is dead or there's no Stark in Winterfell. He just got unlucky that the raven he sent bumped into Beauty.

Sansa is starting an Eugenics program, and she does not want to share it with the rest of Westeros. Time to have Percy breed a whole new race of super warriors lmao.

If you would like to support me, or read five chapters ahead (total of twenty across all of my stories), join me on my Patr(eo)n under the same penname.