A Song of War and Mercy

A/N: Well, after 1 year, 2 months, 2 weeks, and nearly 200,000 words I have officially reached 100 chapters for this thread! So stoked right now! And I have to thank all of my readers and supporters for helping me get to this point. You guys are great!

That said, I would like to take a brief moment to make some honorable mentions. Special thanks go to:

1. The Archmaester: Who's GOT work I started following on Chyoa long ago. He has been a reader since day one and his feedback has definitely helped me develop certain points of the tale or give me ideas when I feel stuck.

2. Razzakel: Who has left more reviews than everyone else. More than most combined, actually. His consistent support has been much appreciated.

3. DerGroße: Another of my regular reviewers who has a way of making the content of his comments matter and inspire me to write at the right time.

4. And MrChyoo: Who joined the story at a later date but has been leaving some pretty detailed and thoughtful comments more and more as of late, just the way I like it.

To all the reviewers I didn't mention, thanks again! And know I always read what you have to say in my chapters.

Well, without further ado, let's get this show on the road, shall we?

Epigraph:

I would have normally rejoiced at the return of one of our brethren in these dangerous times, but it seems that he has sided with your champion too, my warnings be damned.

Even the wise cannot see all ends and that includes deities with foresight.

Ramsay Bolton stared ahead from the front of his army, clenching his jaw as their enemies cheered. Even from his distance, he could hear those savage wildlings and the bannermen of the treacherous Lords shouting that the Starks shall have their victory that day. Worse, while he was too far away to have heard her words, he noticed that this happened after his...runaway wife had addressed her troops from the top of one of their huge mammoths. And whatever she said to them, it clearly raised their morale significantly despite remaining outnumbered.

That won't do at all...

...my Lord?" He heard a hesitant voice to the side, which made him snap out of his reverie when he realized they had been trying to get his attention for a few moments now.

Resolving to come up with ways to beat those strong-minded ideas out of his wife in ways that wouldn't hurt her face once he no longer had the battle to focus on, he turned to look at Lord Glover.

"Apologies, my Lord," He replied with the most charming smile he could come up with on short notice. "I was a bit distracted, thinking about matters of great importance, but let's get back to the present. You were saying?"

The Lord of Deepwood Motte shifted his weight across his restless legs. "I was asking if you had any specific orders for my forces before returning to my flank, west of the river."

"Ah, yes, and allow me to thank you once again for seeing reason and committing your banners to my cause," The new Warden of the North responded with a nod of acknowledgment. "And who would have thought that, in accepting, your actions would have protected the North from further invasion of the Iron Islands under Euron Greyjoy rule? He must want the Starks gone almost as much as we do."

"Perhaps," Lord Robbet of House Glover mutter. "But clearly not enough to send some of his own troops to aid us."

"True," Ramsay said in agreement. "But he does have his own kingdom to put in order after we beat back the invasions of his idiotic brother. And it's not like he didn't send you here empty-handed, after all. Which leads me to my orders: keep the little surprise that the new King of the Ironborn sent our way in reserve and as out of sight as possible unless they manage to overwhelm your lines. If that dragon actually arrives before we are done here, then the element of surprise could make a big difference."

The Lord that most recently bent the knee to him just nodded in understanding so, he went on.

"Also, the bulk of my army will attack them head-on at first but you are to hold your position on your side of the river for the first few minutes, to ensure our outnumbered foes are focused on us. Once you see an opening, send around 300 men to outflank our enemies and hit them from the other side But do keep about 200 men on your side, preferably archers," Lord Bolton stressed. "I want you to have enough men to handle our little ambush that is courtesy of King Euron, and if we do have to deal with a dragon before the battle is over, having additional longbowmen on your position could be useful."

Lord Glover took a deep breath, exhaled, and then nodded. "As you command, my Warden," He answered. "May your aim be swift."

Ramsay nodded back at him and then dismissed him with a wave of his hand. And so, the ruler of Deepwood Motte got back into the woods so he could go around the river and the willing army to return to his bannermen.

"Keep an eye out," He told the other lords at his side. "We wait until he communicates my orders and raises his banner in plain view of our direction. Then, we start killing our way to Ironrath. Time is of the essence so we need to hurry."

"Of course," Lord Karstark replied with a nod, his fist clenching. "Today, House Stark will pay for the **** of my father."

"That they will, my Lord," The ruler of Winterfell and the Dreadfort proclaimed. "That they will. But we need to play our cards right for that. Which is why, I want you to go address the troops for a moment and remind them that while gold and Lordships will be distributed to the fiercest amongst them that slay our biggest enemies, Sansa Stark is to be brought to me alive. If we can hurry and retrieve my wife then I will take care of the trap when that bastard arrives on his Ice Dragon."

"And since every trap needs attractive bait," He added, his tone darkening as his eyes narrowed, "also inform the soldiers that are guarding Rickon Stark's tent that if he is rescued on their watch, then the day will come when they will wish that feeding them to my hounds, piece by piece, was all I'll do to them."

The ruler of the Karhold paused for a moment but soon nodded and walked away to do just that. Then, his smirk began to widen.

"Lord Umber, Lord Cerwyn," He called out. "The North's future is about to be reforged in blood. Soon, the last males of House Stark will be flayed and, when I wear their skins as my ancestors of old did with some of theirs, House Bolton's victory will be complete. So, let's provide a feast for the crows in the snow, shall we?"

His bannermen did not respond. It didn't matter to him. He only had eyes for his outnumbered foes at the moment, and the redhead he could barely make out in the distance that was now astride her direwolf but in the solid ground.

"You had your fun, Sansa," Ramsay murmured. "But as they say, all good things must come to an end sometime. See you soon."

Jon Stark was starting to wonder if his polite smile was beginning to look fake. Before arriving at the courtyard where his Ice Dragon lay, he was found by Mace Tyrell and had spent the next several minutes fawning over the young king. The odd thing was that Lord Tyrell didn't give him the impression that he was being manipulative on purpose with his sycophantic behavior, so he figured it was mostly a bad habit on his part. By the time he started what was sure to be a long monologue about his role in the Siege of Storm's End during Robert Rebellion, however, the secret god turned to his little sister and noticed that there was nothing fake about her displeasure at the moment. So, he decided to cut things short before Arya ripped protocol apart like a direwolf rending a deer's throat.

"My Lord, I am sure this would be a story best told over the warmth of a good hearth, with some of the finest wine the Reach can boast to enjoy," He said, struggling to sound excited but thinking he just about managed. "And besides, we really do need to be on our way. Even on dragon's back, it will take some time to arrive at Ironrath."

"Ah, of course," Mace said with a look of understanding. "Say no more, King Jon. I will have some of the very best Arbor Gold bottles waiting for you to celebrate your victory over the Bolton traitors. Then, we can swap war stories!"

"Now that's the sort of wine that would enrich a good feast," The King of the North and the Trident ended up replying. "Good to see you again, my Lord. Enjoy your stay at White Harbor."

"Until we meet again, your Grace," The Lord of Highgarden said with a bow before walking ahead, deeper into the hall.

The legitimized Stark turned to his sister and shut her up with a look, waiting a few more seconds until he could no longer listen to his steps. Then, he continued heading to the large courtyard of New Castle, which urged her to move forward.

"Alright, speak your mind," Jon allowed, his tone placating.

"That fat man is full of himself, doesn't even know it, and has no idea of how to read people," Ary said in distaste. "I can think of few I have met that would make a worse Faceless Man than him."

"Perhaps," He said in acknowledgment. "But he is not an assassin, he is the Lord of Highgarden. It's not exactly surprising to learn that Lords from by far the most fertile region in Westeros would grow fat once they live past their prime. But yes, his inability to realize that we were clearly in a hurry because we had better things to do and didn't want to listen to his tales was annoying."

"You can say that again," She muttered as they kept their pace, approaching an intersection in the hallway.

Then she turned to him with a serious expression.

"Are you really going to marry his daughter?" She asked, her tone unreadable.

Jon paused in his steps and tilted his head to look at her, his conflicted feelings rising to the surface again.

"It would be better to have this conversation when we are soaring through the skies and no one else can overhear," He responded. "But for now, if you must know, then I can tell you that I am definitely considering it."

"That is good to hear," Said another voice as they reached the intersection before Arya could reply.

Blinking rapidly, the King of the North and the Trident saw Margaery Tyrell show herself from the side. She looked at them with a shy expression.

"My apologies, I heard you talking about my father and me and I couldn't resist," She admitted.

Jon chuckled and then looked at his chagrined sister. "See what I mean?"

Then he looked in her eyes and bit his lower lip, realizing they both needed to talk before he left.

"Arya, could you please get to the courtyard while I say my goodbyes to Lady Margaery? It won't take long."

His sister looked at the two of them with a guarded expression for a moment but then she shrugged and moved forward. Once she was out of earshot and out of sight, Margaery turned back to him.

"She seems very protective of you," The Rose of Highgarden noted.

Jon sighed. "For a long time, I was closest to her and Robb when I was growing up on Winterfell. They never really cared about the fact I was born a bastard. And the years we spent apart have been full of dangers and darkness for my family. It's not really surprising that she would be protective of me after all this time."

"I suppose not," She said before grimacing a bit. "Apologies for my Lord father's behavior. I love him but he has a distinctive inability to recognize when people do not wish to humor him unless they tell him outright. And well, as the Lord of Highgarden, not many outside our family have been in a position to do so."

Jon gave her a small smile. "It's fine. Trust me, I have dealt with far worse. Although, if he ends up becoming my goodfather, I may need to be a bit more direct with him in the future."

Margaery's smile went wider than his. "So, you really are considering it?"

Jon paused for a long moment, remembering his conversation with Sansa on the matter. But this time, he was doing something even more important: examining his own feelings on the matter and thinking back to his last interactions with her. And that was without mentioning everything her kingdom could bring to the table.

So, he took a deep breath and nodded slowly. The Lady of Highgarden's eyes brightened considerably but her radiant smile faded after a bit while staring at his face. "I sense a but," She remarked, starting to sound worried.

"You do have a clever mind," Jon responded with a sad smile.

Then he sighed. "Yes, there is a but. Yet, I am afraid I cannot share that information with you right now. It would take too long to explain and I really do need to hurry. We can speak after the battle, either when I return to White Harbor or after I reclaim Winterfell.

Margaery looked puzzled for a bit. "It sounds like you have a secret that you do not particularly want to share with me," She ended up saying after a while. "Is it bad?"

"That would depend on who you ask," The hidden god muttered. "But, it is a huge secret yes. And if I decide to marry you, Margaery Tyrell, you deserve to know, so that you can make an informed decision before deciding if you would ultimately prefer to say no. I don't want our marriage to start with a poor foundation."

"I...appreciate the sentiment," The Golden Rose said hesitantly. "But I have a hard time imagining what you have to say that would make me object to such a match at this stage. Or my family, by that matter,"

Jon exhaled deeply and decide he needed to give her something in the meantime, even if he really didn't have time for a full story. He rubbed his forehead.

"My resurrection has...changed me in ways you do not yet know," The former Lord Commander replied. "And my magic powers, though grand, come with a price. It's not life-threatening, as some of the requirements of Blood Magic are if that's what you are thinking, but its cost would affect our union should it come to pass. So, I don't want you to make any oaths before a Septon or the Old Gods before you know all the facts."

Margaery was silent for a long moment as she analyzed his words. But then she smiled warmly at him.

"Somehow, that only makes me want to marry you more," She confessed. "Even if I won't like what you have to say, none of my husbands have given me a choice to walk away from that while getting to know each other during our betrothals. It makes me feel more wanted and lets me know you truly care."

The two of them locked gazes for a while and for a moment, Jon wanted to kiss her again, which made him inhale sharply.

"Please don't get yourself killed in the coming battle," She begged. "I hate feeling like I am cursed and if my fourth prospective husband dies horribly before I can start a family, it will be harder than ever to ignore that feeling."

Jon held her hands for a while and they felt warm to his touch. "I will do my very best. And when we have the time, we will talk. Until then enjoy your stay at White Harbor. And take care."

With that, she moved to hug him for a long moment and Jon returned her embrace. But soon, she broke away and looked at him straight in the eyes.

"I don't know who will listen, but I will pray for you, your Grace," She assured him. "May your dragon keep you safe."

And with that, the Rose of Highgarden continued on the corridor. Jon watched her walk away until she was out of sight and then he shook his head. He wasn't at all sure of what Margaery's reaction will be to what he had to say. But one thing was for certain: when his beloved sister reunited with her best friend and they get to that point, things will be far from boring.

Then he sighed and continued walking to the courtyard.

Sansa Stark was being escorted to Princess Val's side by Ghost and Nymeria. The blonde warrioress was at the vanguard of her spearwives, facing the enemy army across from her with a steel-hard gaze. All the same, she gave the Lady of Winterfell in exile a smirk of approval when she saw her approach.

"That was a most excellent speech, Lady Stark," The Princess remarked. "It seems you know how to lead your people well when it matters. I knew there was a reason I liked you."

Sansa returned the grin. "Glad I could help get your blood pumping and ready for combat."

"You did indeed but soon, the blood will be pumping from the severed limbs of the enemies that would see us dead," She proclaimed before raising her castle forged sword that she inherited as a fierce descendant of Bael the Bard, previous King Beyond the Wall, to get the attention of her most trusted Free Folk spearwives at the front.

"Bolton blood will soak the snow tonight!" She swore. "The time has come to show these traitors the true might of the Free Folk!"

At that, the clans behind her started to bang their shields with their weapons as they roared their agreement. Sansa smiled in appreciation.

"And we shall stand with you every step of the way," She vowed. "But before the battle began, I needed to ask, did Josera Snow manage to have time to coordinate some plans with the Free Folk skinchangers?"

The warrior princess nodded. "It took some discussion, but while we did leave most of our women, children, and considerably elderly closer to the Wall in the lands of the Gift, we still took three wargs amongst the people we would have otherwise allowed to remain there. Two are kids barely of 11 and 13 name days of age so we are keeping them furthest away from the fighting. The latter will focus on scouting from the sky through the eyes of a hawk and claw the eyes out of some of the Bolton men that manage to get too close to the Forrester Lord and his brother. The youngest will focus on taking over a raven and spread messages from the Lords and Commanders as the battle progresses, to communicate any changes in the battle plans due to the raven's capacity to speak when a warg enters their minds," Val explained. "The third skinchanger among that group is very old so he can't move well but he is very experienced with his powers. Before the battle, he found several young, poisonous snakes nearby, probably from the same clutch of eggs. He intends to warg into as many of them as it takes to poison all the soldiers that are guarding your brother Rickon's tent once most of their forces are focusing on us. He will be staying in the walls of Ironrath while he does that."

"Sounds well thought out," Sansa responded with a look of respect. "I am impressed. "And the other two wargs that are closer to their prime of life?"

"They are among my spearwives," The Princess of the Free Folk replied. "After coordinating with Magash Char, we decided to let them hang further back and take over the minds of two of the mammoths. That way, they will be able to smash their way through the lines of cavalry without fear, while the giants astride them use their extremely long war hammers to crush the ones that are not smart enough to get out of the way."

Sansa imagined some of those treacherous Lords fleeing at such an unexpected and ferocious onslaught and the thought made her smirk.

"Then we are as ready as we will ever be," She said. "So, that means its time for me to take my place as attractive bait for our enemies and watch them blunder their way to me, just as planned."

Val chuckled. "As I said, I knew there was a reason I liked you. May the Old Gods grant you strength, Sansa Stark."

"And you as well, Princess Val."

And with that, Sansa took her place near the center between two formations of soldiers: around 100 giants without mammoths on one side and her two hundred soldiers from House Tully that the Blackfish sent to guard her on the other. Then, in full view of both armies, she raised the Stark banner.

"FOR. THE. NORTH!" She howled at the top of her lungs.

Roars, boasts, and challenges to their enemies filled the air while she was guarded by two grown, barking direwolves. If Ramsay and his men wanted to take her again, she had every intention of making them bleed every step of the way.

Jon Stark said his final goodbyes and thanks to the servants that had provided for food and shelter to his Ice Dragon and for the bannermen that guarded her while she slept. Then he climbed on his companion and urged Arya to do the same. Before long, they took off to the skies as the people of White Harbor gawked and pointed at them. And in a matter of seconds, they left only Northern city behind while heading towards the Wolfswood.

Arya was the first to break the silence. "So, how did it go with your betrothed?"

"She is not my betrothed," The young king replied.

"But you did say that you are considering it, aren't you?"

The King of the North and the Trident took a deep breath. "Yes, and for many reasons but...it's complicated."

"We have time while we fly," His sister remarked, her voice neutral. "Make it simple for me."

He hesitated, struggling to come up with the words. But then, Arya's grip tighten on his back and he could feel her breath on his neck.

"Let me guess what the problem is," The She-Wolf of Winterfell said. "She is not a redhead. Is that it?"

Jon froze at that remark, his muscles tensing.

"You...know?" He asked, feeling shocked.

"I suspected it," Arya said with a sigh. "You tried not to think much on Sansa during the times our minds were connected but I could still sense that your feelings for her had changed. And mad as it sounds, you have become the god of ****. I suppose it makes a certain kind of sense."

They remained in silence for a long moment after that, the winds buffeting their faces. The young god inhaled sharply.

"You were not, you know, disgusted?" He asked hesitantly.

"Of course I was," Arya replied bluntly. "I don't want to imagine my siblings fucking, even if your new status would exempt you from the taboo."

Then she paused and sighed. "But even if I have found Sansa more than annoying in the past, I do want you to be happy, Jon. So, if our sister is the one you want and the feeling is mutual then who I am to deny a god? But I really need you to help me understand. About your relationship with Sansa, how it began, and what you plan to do once we take back Winterfell. I think I deserve to know."

The legitimized bastard took a deep breath. "You are right. So, hold on tight. This conversation might take most of the way.

And with that, he started at the beginning.

Gwyn Whitehill stood at the top of the walls of Ironrath, waiting for the upcoming clash between the armies. She bit her bottom lip, worried sick about her beloved Asher. But then, she heard steps climbing their way up and she saw her soon-to-be Good sisters, Mira and Talia Forrester.

"I thought we would find you here," The former handmaiden to Margaery Tyrell said, her eyes full of empathy. "We are worried about Asher too. And of everyone else, of course."

Gwyn sighed. "I only just found him again and now I am the last of my line. I don't know what I would do with myself if he fell."

The three highborn ladies got closer together and held hands. "We have done all we can to prepare," Talia said softly. "But I believe in our new king. He broke the siege of Ironrath in our time of need and even if he runs a little late, I don't believe he will fail us now. This means that, for now, all we can do is pray."

Heavy sighs filled the air but no one contradicted her. Then she turned her head, to the far side of the wall. There, an elderly Free Folk was sitting on a wooden chair with his eyes the color of milk, a sign that he was skinchanging into an animal at the moment.

Gwyn hesitated for a moment as a thought came to her. Magical evidence of the power of the Old Gods was close by. And yet, she was a Whitehill and her family was one of the few Northern Houses that followed the Faith of the Seven, along with the Manderlys. Still, while she wasn't sure that the New Gods would listen, she decided she needed to pray for her own peace of mind.

And so, she started to sing a popular hymn of her faith: the one that sounded most fitting for the situation.

Gentle Mother, font of mercy,

Save our sons from war, we pray.

Mira Forrester tilted her head to look at her and she notice recognition in her eyes, as if the song reminded her of something important.

Stay the swords and stay the arrows,

Let them know a better day.

The eldest Forrester woman took a deep breath and, despite being a follower of the Old Gods, she decided to join her in song as well.

Gentle Mother, strength of women,

Help our daughters through this fray.

Talia looked at her sister and then turned her gaze at the last member of the House that had caused her so much pain in the last couple of years. Then she took a deep breath and sang with them.

Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,

Teach us all a **** way.

Abruptly they stopped in their tracks, fear rising in their guts when they realized that Ramsay's army had started to move and the cavalry was advancing. But then, they bowed their heads solemnly and held each other's hands with care as they finished the religious hymn.

Gentle Mother, font of mercy,

Save our sons from war, we pray.

Stay the swords and stay the arrows,

Let them know a better day.

They choked out the last part, hoping for the best while mentally preparing for the worst.

For the battle had begun now. And their future was uncertain.

Well, the battle to remove Ramsay from power has finally begun! And it only took me a year worth of chapters :D

Lol. Seriously now, thank you guys for all the support. It has been a blast to write all of this. And as a thank you gift for reading this far, I have an announcement to make that may be pleasing for those that have enjoyed this journey:

Once Story Arc Seven: Rise of the Dragonwolf is finished in a few chapters that will be the end of Act One...of Three! Yep, you read that right, we would only be about a third of the way. After a long time developing my outlines and doing some more recent reorganization now that I am closer to my goals and decided to subdivide some sideplots, Act 2 will finish with Story Arc 14: A War of Ice and Iron while Act 3 will end with Story Arc 21: The Walkers Strike Back. To cap it all off, we will have an epilogue arc for the 22nd, titled The Prince Who Was Promised Arises. And that's not counting any potential spin-offs or sequels I may decide to do somewhere along the way, after a year or so of vacation from writing, perhaps.

But yeah, for those doing the math then yes, know that if the journey to this moment is any indication then you can certainly expect over 200 additional chapters for the next couple of years. So, really hope you enjoy my future plans, and thanks again for all the reviews. You guys are great!

Oh and finally, that song that Gwyn was singing at the end is actually the full version of the song that Sansa was singing during the Battle of the Blackwater Bay episode when trying to comfort the terrifying ladies of King's Landing. By far my favorite cover for that song can be found on youtube by a fantastic singer with the voice of an angel that goes by the name of Karliene. For those curious, here is the link:

www . youtube . com/ watch?v=sB_T7Y0jhvw

Well, until next time!