The Art of Deceptions and Omissions

A/N: Just wanted to take a moment to mention that, as of this chapter, this is officially the longest fanfic I have ever written and by far the most popular too, at least if you combine the reviews here with those I get from its repost in Archive of Our Own. So, thank you all for the continued support! You rock!

Hope you enjoy the hidden schemes, pieces of foreshadowing, and big secrets all around the chapter. Its title may have gotten a bit long but given the content, I think it fits. Have fun!

Read, enjoy, and review!

"So...let me get this straight," Sansa said, her tone increasingly angered. "When Euron Greyjoy visited Deepwood Motte with a sizable fleet, he offered Lord Glover to restrict any future Ironborn raids in the North to areas outside the Wolfswood Region and especially to his own seat, for as long as he is king. In exchange, that bloody pirate demanded he started gathering banners to march against Ironrath, on House Bolton's side?"

Mira nodded with distaste in her gaze. "And to send ravens to Winterfell as well, so that he could explain everything he had learned from his own men and scouts about the Stark-aligned forces while they have been camping around here."

"And Glover agreed to it?!" Rodrik demanded as he clenched his fists.

"Well, Euron did sweeten the deal when he revealed that he had managed to track down the Ironborn survivors that escaped from his keep when Roose Bolton came to reinforce the Lord of Deepwood Motte after the Red Wedding," Mira acknowledged. "And so, had managed to get his hands on Glover's wife, son, and daughter that they had taken as hostages, which admittedly **** his hand a little. He was quick to say yes, though," The former handmaiden explained with narrowed eyes. "He claimed that after the Red Wedding, and all it cost, he was not interested in following a Stark King again."

"It seems like someone has forgotten about his duty and his vows," Lady Lyanna growled, her voice furious. "Not to mention his spine."

"That's one way to put it," Mira muttered. "At any rate, he promised to return them if he reinforced the Bolton army against the Starks, apparently in the hopes that his aid would make it easier to...kill the dragonrider that called himself king," She added, her tone hesitant.

Sansa glared at the wall in front of her. "This is yet another attempt on Jon's life by that damned pirate," She thought, outraged. "And since it was highly unlikely that he could have heard by now that the men he sent to Braavos failed to secure the aid of the Faceless Men for that, then it means began to prepare multiple plans from the start in case other **** plots fail."

What she didn't understand was how exactly had he learned about the fact her brother had become a king and a dragonrider. That was very recent information and if Mira was captured one week earlier, then that would have actually been a day before Jon broke the Siege of Ironrath with frost-flame. Then she thought back to the first part of that conversation: about how Euron had told his hostage that he had foreseen that he would come to need Forrester blood for a ritual.

Sansa winced slightly as she became convinced. "It seems our new enemy really was affected by the prophetic quake that my brother told me about that had affected sorcerers of all sorts to varying degrees," She realized. "I wonder though, what kind of magic does he know then? I have heard quite a few dark tales about Euron being a terrifying beast across the seas but never anything about him knowing how to make spells or something."

Her line of thought was interrupted when she realized Mira's siblings were telling her that Jon had become King of the North and the Trident by Robb's will and that he had managed to claim an Ice Dragon as his mount. She looked awed by that.

"How big is it?" The Forrester woman couldn't help but ask.

Asher chuckled. "Huge. Bigger than the last dragon I saw too, back when I was still in Essos."

Sansa turned her neck to look at Asher so quickly her neck started hurting for a brief moment. "Wait, what? You never told me you saw the dragons of Daenerys Targaryen while you were still exiled."

Asher shrugged. "We have been busy and the topic didn't come up, I guess. But yes, I saw the dragon she named Drogon after my uncle Malcolm came to bring me back home. We were trying to lose some mercenaries from the Lost Legion in a canyon somewhere beyond Yunkai and stumbled upon the black dragon in a cave he was nesting in. Talk about bad luck, the only known fire dragon that was currently roaming somewhere in Essos and we end up bringing trouble to his lair," He added.

Mira's eyes widened even further. "Then what happened?"

"The Lost Legion caught up with us and were just as surprised as we were, which gave Beshka, my sellsword partner, and I some time to react," He went on. "Then they started attacking the dragon. Terrible idea," The second-born Forrester remarked with a shake of the head. "Drogon killed most of them and sent the rest running for their lives. And my uncle also ended up getting burned on the side before we could escape through the nearby cave opening that led outside the canon."

"Huh," Sansa muttered. "Fascinating story. So, you say that Jon's Ice Dragon was bigger than Drogon?"

"Yes," Asher confirmed. "But that was almost 2 years ago. I don't know how much larger has he gotten since."

The redhead considered that for a moment, biting her bottom lip. Then she shook her head. "You will have to tell me more about your time in Essos later. For now, why don't we continue with Mira's story? Like, how exactly is it that you managed to escape?"

The former handmaiden smiled sadly at that. "I am here now because even in the darkest times, some of the Northmen remember. My cell was opened by a large man that claimed to have grown up around Ironrath before rising to knighthood and joining Lord Glover's service. He explained to me that he couldn't be a part of this treachery and that after everything, he wanted the Starks to reclaim the North. So, he told me to make my way to Ironrath to warn you all and so I did."

"Unfortunately," She said with a sighed, "we were spotted by Ironborn soldiers not long after we fled south of the keep. He told me to keep moving while he covered my retreat and not to stop until I reached my home. Before I could insist he came with me, he shouted our House words and ran towards the Ironborn. I heard several metallic clashes but didn't look back as I did as he asked. I am sure I owe him my life because the soldiers never caught up with me but...neither did he. So, I can only assume he took out the scouts quietly but got too injured in the process to follow me."

Rodrik sighed heavily at that. "Shame. I would have loved to reward such a loyal and righteous man. But thanks to him, you have returned to us in time to deliver a very important warning, dear sister. And, now we can better prepare for the coming battle, even if it means showing our hand."

At that, he turned to face Asher, giving him a knowing look. His eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"Without our dragon-riding king here yet, we are going to be hard-pressed to face this new front if our enemies join forces at the same time," Rodrik remarked. "I believe we could have held firm against Ramsay's army with the plan we had if they mainly came from one direction but with House Glover rising up against us and who knows how many Ironborn under their new king fighting their way through another flank, things have changed. Unless the Knights of the Vale and the White Harbor reinforcements arrive in a few hours, we are going to have to adjust our tactics and take advantage of that family secret. And for that, the rest of us need to be on the same page."

There was a long moment of silence in the room after those declarations but in the end, Asher nodded in understanding. Sansa frowned. "May I ask what are you talking about?"

The oldest Forrester present turned to Mira before responding. "Are you well enough to walk for an hour or so?"

"I think so, yes," She said slowly. "Why? Where are we going?"

Rodrik inhaled deeply and turned to face the Lady of Winterfell in exile. "To the most hidden place in all of Ironrath; so much so that our father had not revealed its location to me before his life was cut short. But we discovered its existence during the siege. In fact, it was the main reason our people managed to stand firm for so long."

"Everyone," He continued, "I am about to show you a secret that has been closely guarded by the Lords of House Forrester for almost 250 years. And given the circumstances, Princess Val, could you please send word to your friend Spring, the Child of the Forrest that came with you from the North Grove? I can assure you that she is not going to want to miss this."

King Euron of House Greyjoy smirked as he sat on the Seastone Chair. If the vague visions he had just received from his divine benefactor were any indication, then Mira Forrester had finally made it to Ironrath, after spending the last week on the run.

"How fortuitous," He chuckled, the sound of his amusement echoing throughout his otherwise empty throne room. "Even with my subtle manipulations, I was starting to think some of Lord Glover's men might have been able to hunt her down before she could make it home. Good thing I didn't need to resort to overt methods that would have revealed who was really behind the escape of my new "ally's" ward."

Then he snorted. "I have to admit, playing the part of the loyal and heroic knight rescuing the imprisoned Lady was more enjoyable than I thought it would be. Almost worth spending the last usable face I took from my old Faceless Man of a prisoner for that alone. But even if it wasn't, it still served me well enough to position that crucial piece of the board in place with enough subtlety."

Caressing the glass vial with Forrester blood he was keeping close by, he started reminiscing of the time he had managed to capture a trained Faceless Man. The proud assassin was certainly as stubborn as their reputation suggested, repeatedly challenging him to do his worst with the **** but refusing to yield the secrets of their magical arts at every turn.

Unfortunately for him, the Faceless Man didn't realize that Euron had long figure out what to do with prisoners with enough mental fortitude to resist **** after much practice. As such, the captain of the Silence didn't actually need him to talk. By the time he could comprehend that there was a reason he was focusing his **** methods into carefully delivered blows to the head, it was too late for him. And so, when the then future king calculated he had dazed the assassin enough, he began unleashing the full might of his Greenseer abilities that focused on warging and it allowed him to take over his resisting but battered mind. And from then on, no secret of his was safe, including the information for how to use his small, traveling reserve of faces.

"Ahhhh," Euron sighed in contentment. "Good times."

Then he snapped out of his reverie when the doors to his Great Hall opened and his guards escorted a middle-aged man inside. his face darkened by the shadows of his throne room

"Ah!" The King of the Iron Islands said in delight. "My guest of honor has arrived! Excellent."

"Please," The bearded foreigner said in a tense tone his accent sounding distinctively eastern. "What do you want from me?"

Euron chuckled. "You are the smith that Tywin Fucking Lannister invited to Westeros so that you could rework the Valyrian steel from that long Stark blade into two. What do you think I want from you?"

"So...you want me to reforge some Valyrian steel," He muttered. "You could have just asked you know. No need to have your men capture me on route to Volantis."

"And pay the Gold Price for that?" He asked with an incredulous face, as if the man had started speaking in his native tongue, the Valyrian dialect from the Free City of Qohor. "Now why would I do that when the alternative is easier? But relax, as soon as you are done with your work, you can be on your way back to Volantis."

Then, he paused. "Why were you based there when Tywin called for you anyway?" The King asked, actually curious. "The arts for reforging existing Valyrian steel are the most highly prized secret of the Free City of Qohor, after all."

The master smith, whom he had previously learned was called Ohbot Ttom, sighed in exasperation.

"I was invited to the city by one of their scions of the Old Blood of Valyria, beyond the Black Walls of Volantis," He explained. "Before long, word had spread of my arrival and business was good for a long time. If it wasn't for that, and the assurances of security and patronage I got from the scion, I would have returned to Qohor long ago. But then, Tywin Lannister offered to pay even more than usual to get me to work for him in King's Landing, so I finished the last work those strange Skagosi commissioned and crossed the Narrow Sea."

Euron tensed, his gaze livid enough to alarm the Qohori. "Did you just said some...Skagosi...hired you to reforge Valyrian steel?"

The man just nodded slowly.

"Please tell me they didn't ask you to reforge an entire suit of Valyrian Steel armor, because if they did, I am going to have to declare war on that island of cannibals and throw all their corpses to the depths," He growled.

"Wait what?" Ohbot asked, looking baffled. "Why would anyone in their right minds seek to reforge an entire suit of armor of Valyrian steel? Those masterpieces of magical smithing were rare even when the Valyrian Freehold was at its height and even then they would have cost a kingdom."

"I am well aware," Euron seethed with a glare. "That is why I am still so furious that a group of Skagosi pirates stole one of the two suits of Valyrian Steel armor I recovered during my costly trip to the ruins of Old Valyria."

The Qohori's eyes widened at that and his skin tone paled at the same time. "You have actually recovered treasures from the jaws of the Doom and lived to tell the tale?"

The King of the Iron Islands calmed down a little at that reaction, enjoying the awed fear in his eyes.

"Something you should know about me," He said with a fierce smirk while touching his crown, and pointing at his unspeakably ancient throne. "No matter how long it takes, I always get what I want."

There was a long moment of silence as the master smith seemed to reevaluate his opinion of the king before him, if his expression was any indication. Then he sighed. "Then I guess I am at your service, your Grace. I imagine you don't actually want me to reforge your remaining suit of Valyrian steel armor then?"

"Indeed," Euron responded. "And yes, I suppose you can check it out later if you are curious. But for now, tell me, what exactly did those Skagosi asked of you?"

"They wanted me to reforge a handful of Valyrian steel daggers into a shield," He said slowly. "An odd request, to be sure. Normally my clients ask me for weapons. Then again, those normally isolationist islanders are considered an odd people so, I didn't ask many questions."

"I see," The King frowned as he scratched his beard. "And how exactly did they made it past the Black Walls of Volantis? I find it hard to believe that a scion of the Old Blood would actually invite them inside."

"You would be surprised, your Grace," The Qohori replied in a polite tone. "But then again, so was I. It seems that one of those Skagosi had actually managed to save the life of my patron in the past. So, I suppose that Stoneborn decided to call in that favor he was owed. In which case, that would explain why my unusually silent benefactor paid for the request they asked of me."

"Hmm," Euron hummed with a pondering expression. "Something strange is going on in that distant island. First, those pirates navigate through the Doom well enough to steal my rightful loot, and then it turns out those isolationists have enough connections with the powerful of Volantis to ask for your highly sought-after services? And that's not even mentioning the fact that that the one Skagosi I captured back then was also a Red Priest with considerable magical talent."

Ohbot raised an eyebrow. "I have never heard of Red Priests going to preach to those far-flung cannibals."

"Neither did I, until I captured Harkon," The Greenseer Monarch muttered. "Something tells me they had been using their dark reputation and isolation to their advantage. Maybe they are hiding something big."

There was another pause in their conversation as Euron analyzed his won words further but then he shrugged. "I suppose I can try to find out with a proper raid at some point. But it can wait. For now, I have more important things to do."

"Alright then," The Qohori said. "In that case, what is it that you want me to reforge?"

At that, the King of the Iron Islands removed the sheathed blade at his side and got closer to the master smith, Then, he showed the Valyria steel sword to him.

"This is Red Rain," Euron said with a smirk, a glint of dark excitement surely appearing in his eyes. "It used to be the ancestral sword of House Reyne."

The middle-aged man looked up at him, suddenly startled. He chuckled. "Yes, the very same House from the infamous Rains of Castamere song that talks about how Tywin Lannister completely wiped out his unruly bannermen. I imagined you heard of that while in his employ?"

Ohbot just nodded.

"Well, a member from House Drumm took the blade from an armored knight of House Reyne with nothing but his wits and a wooden cudgel about 90 years ago," He explained. "It has been in their family ever since but the current Lord of House Drumm decided to offer it to me as a tribute after a certain...religious experience," The Greenseer added with a chuckle.

"Alright..." The Qohori said, his tone hesitant. "So, what do you want me to turn this into?"

"That's a surprise," Euron replied with an amused expression. "You see, I still lack a couple of ingredients I want to add into the mix when you start reforging. However, one of those crucial pieces is in Claw Isle, the seat of House Celtigar. So, I am actually setting sail for the Narrow Sea in an hour or so to get it myself. I will be back in about two months."

"Wait, what?" He asked, his tone scandalized. "Two months? But..."

"I assure you that you will be well-taken care of the entire time," The King interrupted. "And once we are done, you can leave. But make no mistake, if you try to escape even once, then my new weapon will be the last piece of Valyrian steel you will ever reforge, because I will personally cut off your hands before you are free. Understand?" He added in a threatening tone.

That shut him up on the spot.

"Good." The Greyjoy monarch ended up saying. "In that case, my guards will see you to your new accommodations. My servants will do what they can to make your stay as pleasant as possible, provided you don't cause trouble. See you in a couple of moons then."

And with that, he dismissed the guards and the master smith, his face grim as he turned around. Then, once he was alone again, the Greenseer King took one last look at the Seastone Chair. Before long, he chuckled.

"It will take a bit for the Starks to realize that I was not actually going to commit my forces to the coming battle in the Wolfswood region," He said slowly, thinking aloud. "By then I will be well on my way, trying to seek the next couple of pieces I will need for that magical ritual in Claw Isle...and for so much more."

Then he chuckled. "But if the **** attempt was not enough, then openly turning Glover against them would have been the last straw for that dragonrider who calls himself King in the North, unless he wants his bannermen to think he had lost his spine. Oh yes, he will have to rally his banners and invade the Iron Islands, seeking to bring us to heel like Ned Fucking Stark and his ilk managed the first time my idiotic brother rebelled against the Iron Throne."

Then he grinned, already imagining the mayhem and shock that will greet the mainlanders. "But it will still take him a while to organize his forces during the winter and this time we will be ready. More to the point, they will be invading us because I will it so. Because it fits my divinely inspired plans. And because I do not fear."

Slightly bowing his head to the oily black throne that served as a link between himself and his god, Euron turned around and started walking a purpose.

"But first," He thought with relish, "I have a magical horn to claim. Time to set sail."

A/N: Well, I hope enjoyed the ride here! Loads to contemplate and unpack between revealed and hinted at stuff. Still, I would love to hear your theories about what you think may be happening next, from the secrets of House Forrester to ones Euron was mentioning. And as I always, happy to answer your questions if you have any doubts.

Until next time everyone. Thanks for inspiring me to get this far in little over 9 months. It has been a very enjoyable experience.