A/N - Asha Greyjoy will be featured in this chapter. But since this story is in the Game of Thrones show category, I believe that I will refer to her as Yara. For the show only readers, Yara Greyjoy is Theon's sister. In the book, her real name is Asha. They changed it so folks wouldn't get Osha (Rickon's wildling chaperone) and Asha confused. Reasonable enough. Anyway, let's get the show on the road.

Chapter II

"The Motte"

Deepwood Motte - Midnight

Yara

Yara Greyjoy sat quietly at the main table of Deepwood Motte's primary hall. Her men seemed to sense her foul mood - she had been their Commander for years now - so they knew her quite well. Not that they minded her ruining the relatively good mood of the castle - she was their leader by choice. Yara had been battle proven since childhood - having killed men twice her age since she could fight. She loosed a bow unlike any man in the world, or woman for that matter. They once said that the Greyjoys had the best archers in the Seven Kingdoms.

She was far better then any Greyjoy as far as she knew. Save perhaps her uncle Euron and Victarion. Legend had it Euron Greyjoy, the Crow's Eye, could snipe the wing off a fly. A ridiculous exaggeration of course - but the statement did it's job in instilling wonder. Theon had also been quite good with a bow in his youth. Though, she didn't know how that turned out for him.

Theon.

As always, he was the reason for her foul mood. She had gone so far for him. She would have done anything to get him back from the clutches of that cunt, Ramsay Snow. He had defiled her brother - made him a eunuch. She should have assassinated him in his sleep.

"No." Yara told herself. The Theon she knew was gone - now made into some creature by Ramsay. "...Tsk."

"Commander!" A messenger caught her attention. "Dire news!"

"What is it?" She asked, straightening up. "You look blue."

"Cavalry! Hundreds of them! Riding fast from the east! Th-they're just outside our doors"

Her gloved hands slammed down on the table as she stood abruptly. "What?!"

The other Ironmen also exclaimed at the bold proclamation - most with disbelief. Many of them began racing towards their assigned guard posts instantly on the defense. The Motte was centered at the top of a large hill giving it ideal position to fight an enemy that would be forced to approach from low ground. At first, the castle had weak defenses, but Yara had her men enforce the walls and add large towers and perimeters to ensure that they could keep the castle long term.

And in moments, those advantages seemed to evaporate.

"How did a thousand soldiers manage to sneak up on us?"

Yara kicked down the doors to the barracks and grabbed twin axes and a bow. By the time she arrived to the open field, she could see at a distance that many of her comrades had already fallen. It was a full on heavy cavalry rush - the majority of her forces had been impaled by lance or decapitated. She ducked one of the lances and managed to grab it from the rider, forcing him off the horse. Yara drew a dagger from her waist and slit his throat.

"Ironborn! To me!" Whatever was left of her men rallied around the front of the Hall entrance. "Pyke! The Iron Islands!"

"Pyke!"

And they fought. Yara managed to pick off quite a few riders from a distance with her bow - instructing other archers to do so from high ground in an attempt to break the enemy formation. She didn't know how long the fight had lasted but Yara knew when it had begun to end. The sound of battle began to dwindle slowly. Steadily.

Her men fought valiantly but the momentum never garnered to their side. The speed of the enemy rush surprised her greatly.

Over the course of the battle, pairs of riders rode parallel to one another, each holding one end of a large chain with spikes along the line. They rode fast - and wide, catching dozens of her men all in one sweeping attack that mowed them down like cattle. Few tried to duck or jump it but most failed - were caught and pulled around like cargo.

"Shit." She cursed.

"Commander!" One of her men pointed to the exits. Dread filled her. Shield infantrymen. They were trapped. They had lost Deepwood Motte. But she would die before surrendering so easily. Yara held up her bow in search of a target.

Jon

"Lord Stark?"

Jon dismounted his horse, fully aware that the battle was coming to a close. "An Ironmen told me that the hostages are being held here. Luckily, they left when we began our attack."

"I had heard previously that Lord Glover's wife and children were taken to the Iron Islands. Strange. But how lucky." Ser Corliss Penny said. Beside him a broad man dismounted and quickly caught up to Jon. Robett Glover, whom joined Jon's cause as soon as he was told they were marching on Deepwood Motte.

"Let's not question the fortune from the Gods." Robett said solemnly. Grief, hope and anger all mixed in his tone. "I am more then familiar with this building. They must be in one of the wider cells below."

Naturally, not all of the Ironmen had evacuated the building. Upon reaching one of the lower floors, Jon could hear the screeches of young children and women from below. Three ironmen also stood guard there. They saw Jon approaching. "Fuck. The cunts have made it here."

Jon drew Longclaw while Robett engaged one of ironmen to his left. He held Longclaw still to the side and dodged the incoming axe swipes from the enemy. After a quick dodge, he lodged his sword right into the opponent's stomach, and kicked back the third man, slamming him to the ground. Robett who had finished off the other ironborn moved over and slit his throat.

"My Lord!" Sybelle Glover exlaimed with relief - her children quivering from the blood shed. Robett rushed over and opened the gates to meet his wife and children.

"Stay here with your family, Lord Glover." Jon made eye contact with the older man who nodded. He then turned to the two knights pledged to Stannis Baratheon. He whispered. "They are the rightful Lords of Deepwood Motte. Keep them safe, Ser Harys. Ser Corliss."

"As you command, Lord Stark."

The Eyrie

Sansa

"-broke the Wildling army to the North. Has pardoned twenty-thousand wildlings. Legitimized Ned Stark's bastard. Currently, our scouts estimate that he is thirty-thousand strong, Lord Arryn. Two hundred knights."

As usual, Lord Robin Arryn was on the edge of tears, bored out of his mind. He seemed to find more interesting matters in the trees or elsewhere. It was quite notable that he was just barely awake - sleep not far from his boy's mind. Because in Sansa's opinion, the boy was just that, a simple boy. Nothing like the man they had said Jon Arryn was like. Sansa often heard Lord Yohn Royce grunt about the Arryn heir and how incompetent the boy was turning out to be.

He was not wrong.

Another matter occupied her mind. Jon Snow. No. I guess now he was called Jon Stark. She almost smiled at the mention of her half-brother. Sure, they hadn't been close when they were children, but that did not mean her feelings hadn't changed over time. Perhaps as children, she had kept a respectful distance from him because of her mother's influence. Sansa regretted that now.

She should have loved him like she loved father. Like she loved mother, Bran, Rickon, Arya...and Robb. Gods, she missed them. The Starks of Winterfell had been broken and scattered during the War of Five Kings. Robb Stark betrayed at the Twins by the Boltons and the Freys.

"Lady Sansa, a word, if I may?" Petyr Baelish whispered from beside her. She nodded and walked to the local weirwood of the Eyrie. This was a scenery she had truly missed while living in the cyst nest that was King's Landing. They said that Starks didn't do well in the south. She was more then inclined to agree.

"Lord Baelish?"

"In regards to your half-brother." He started. "We've received word that Stannis's army has retaken Deepwood Motte. Jon Stark led the attack personally. They have regained House Glover's allegiance. I've a mind to believe that they are rallying more Northerners under their wing - specifically, Northerners who were betrayed at the Twins. It's more then likely that House Mormont will jump at any opportunity to avenge the Red Wedding."

She took at the information in silence.

"It seems the fate of the North will hang on the balance." Sansa mused. "What word of the Last Hearth and Karhold?"

Honestly, she didn't expect much from the Karstarks. They had abandoned House Stark during the War of Five Kings. They were traitors. Oathbreakers.

They would pay. In time.

"Bolton's men." Baelish replied quickly. He then narrowed his eyes as a small smirk graced the younger girl's lips. His heart flipped slightly. She looked just like her mother in a way. "What are you thinking?"

"The North Remembers." She breathed out cold air. "Lord Robin Arryn is still in need of a betrothed, is he not?"

"He is quite young." Littlefinger pointed out. "But yes, he is still unattached. He can still be promised, nonetheless."

Sansa went deep in thought for a moment. Her eyes were closed and if Petyr didn't know any better, he would have assumed that she was simply praying. The young woman held her hands together and her head was facing the sky.

"Roslin Frey seems to be available now that Edmure Tully is imprisoned. Perhaps a union between the Riverlands and the Vale will provide many great opportunities in the future."

Petry Baelish made a humming sound, the thought crossing his mind.

"I'll have a word with the Maester. Perhaps old Walder has already sent a raven that we ignored previously."

Jon

Jon met with his King in the main Hall of Deepwood Motte. "Your Grace." He inclined his head.

"Lord Stark." Stannis nodded. "It seems your plan was successful."

"Aye." Jon scratched his chin. "The Ironmen wouldn't know of the secret trails in the Wolfswood. My brother and I would explore when we were boys. It was easy to catch them off-guard. We rode hard and fast - took them by surprise in the middle of the night while they were in their cups. They must have lost ten times our numbers."

"I'll have somebody do the body count." Stannis said. "Their leader? The Lady Greyjoy."

"In the cells." Jon replied. "Balon will be incapable of moving against us now. The Ironmen will scurry back to the Iron Islands."

"Hm." The King pondered for a moment. "For now, she will be a prisoner, Lord Stark. I have terms to offer her. I leave that to you."

"Of course."

"Now that we hold Deepwood Motte, Winterfell will be next. Will we be able to pull off this same tactic in the next battle?"

Jon shook his head. "We cannot underestimate the Boltons. Lest we carelessly fall into a trap. I've heard Roose Bolton is every bit as cunning a General Tywin Lannister was." The younger man seemed to pause for a second. "There is something I must think on. An idea. But first I must spend some time recalling old conversations I had with my late brother."

"He means the Young Wolf." Stannis Baratheon realized. "Very well. Go on. We move as soon as I consolidate our strength here. And as soon as I hear from Ser Davos."

The Onion Knight had been sent to White Harbor for another task. Jon had a fairly good idea of what his plan was - but Jon digressed. Ser Davos Seaworth was one of the most competent men he'd ever met and Jon had known many. White Harbor shouldn't be on his mind at the moment. All he could do now was wait for the man's success and devise a plan to take back his home.

"Of course. By your leave, Your Grace."

The King waved him off. Jon turned around - he had a few matters to attend to.

(Cells)

Yara looked up. It was her captor. A man called Jon Stark. He wore his valyrian steel sword on his hip, black northern leather armor and cloaked in black fur. Beside him was the white direwolf that had slain as many of her men as he had. At least, that was what her men had told her in their cells.

"Well, well..." She roused herself. "Jon Stark. Lord of...Winterfell, was it? You're far from your keep."

Jon did not bite at her insult. "Princess Yara Greyjoy." He acknowledged with indifference.

"What do you want?" She asked sardonically. "Come to have your way with me? I see the way you look at me, little wolf."

Jon merely stared at her blankly. That was certainly not his intention - but he could not blame her for thinking so. From the stories he had heard from Theon, it was not unusual for ironmen to take salt-wives or...whatever ridiculous traditions they had.

"No." He answered honestly. "I've come with an offer, actually."

"An offer? What could I possibly give you?"

"The Iron Islands. Pyke. And eventually, the Iron Fleet." Jon stated, staring at her intently. "Swear your loyalty to our cause. Help us destroy House Bolton. And the Greyjoy name lives on."

"Idiot. My father would never surrender so much. Not for me!"

"Aye. Perhaps, but these terms are not for your father." She went silent at that statement. "I offer these terms to you, Princess."

"Don't call me that." She snapped. "I am Commander of the Black Wind and a quarter of the Iron Fleet. I've killed more men then you ever will." She demanded a little respect for her military position. "And why would I accept? I see no benefit for me and mine!"

"You will. Right now, how many lands do the Greyjoys have?"

"We control several villages along the western coast of the North. The Iron Islands-"

"And that's it. For now at least. Who knows how long you will hold those...villages." He cut her off. "We'll give you more after the war is won. And yes, yes, I understand that you and your people 'charge the iron price' or whatever you call it. That's nonsense. You honestly believe that foolish mentality will win you prosperity for your people?" He looked all around to the other prisoners. They were glaring at him. He didn't care.

"These terms are from the King himself." Jon added with steel in his voice. Yara could only grit her teeth. "Kneel before King Stannis Baratheon. Swear fealty to him and his line. Help us destroy House Bolton. And we'll give you the West. Casterly Rock, Lannisport, Faircastle, Ashemark, and the Crag!"

"The Lannisters hold the West!" She scoffed. "You think they'll give it up so easily?"

"Trust me." And suddenly, the tone of his voice sent a chill down her spine. Like a beast that had long been at rest had finally awoken. "There will be no Lannisters in Westeros left once this War has ended."

"..." Yara had no answer. Even her men were subdued. "...Leave."

Jon nodded and inclined his head before turning away. He could see that he had gotten to her. His job was done.

Yara closed her eyes. She began massaging her head - quelling the coming headache.

END