Chapter 39 Unexpected Happenings
Sansa Stark
Since their return there had truly been few things that really surprised her. Westeros had been totally and irrevocably changed beyond any resemblance to the original plan. That she had taken in stride and they'd forged ahead with nary a misstep. And things had been going along splendidly so far. Sansa didn't deceive herself, something had to go wrong...somewhere. The only real surprise she'd had was Barristan the Bold showing up and pledging his allegiance to Jon instead of Daenerys. A small part of Sansa, was gleefully waiting to rub that fact into her face...whenever Daenerys returned to Westeros.
Which made the scene in front of her even more and all the more surprising. She'd decided to go and check up on Mother. Mother hadn't taken all the revelations thrown at her well in a rather spectacular fashion, but she was getting better. There was decidedly more colour in her cheeks these days than than before.
"Are you sitting and sewing with mother?!" Sansa asked in surprise at the scene in front of her.
In mother's rooms, mother held her sewing in hand. Sitting next to her was Arya...her sewing in hand as well. Arya's face were harder to read these days- for obvious reasons, but here and now Arya was smiling serenely.
Arya looked up at her question and shrugged nonchalantly, "Yes."
"Sitting happily and sewing?" Sansa repeated pointedly, still trying to come to terms with the scene in front of her.
Arya gave her a dry look, "Yes," she repeated through clenched teeth.
Sansa stared for a moment before, letting out a bark of laughter and smiling at the irony of the moment.
Arya's eyes narrowed and she glared at her.
"And what is wrong with sitting and sewing?" Mother asked in an annoyed tone.
Sansa shook her slowly, "Nothing at all mother...it's Arya sitting and sewing happily that I have a hard time believing," she finished giving Arya a long searching look.
Arya returned the look with a withering glare of her own.
"And what is so wrong with a mother and daughter sitting and sewing together?" Mother retorted crossly, sounding more like herself than she had in a long while.
Sansa looked between them and held her hands up in surrender, "Nothing at all."
Mother nodded, "Good," she said gruffly.
"I might even join you...there's nothing really pressing that I have to do for the next few hours," Sansa quickly added.
Mother's face softened and Arya's glare disappeared as Sansa went to the door and called out for a servant to bring her own materials from her rooms. Soon enough Sansa was sitting down next to mother, with Arya on the other side. It was a very quiet situation Sansa found herself in. They sat quietly, the only thing they talked about were their stitches. There was no mention of war, or dragons, or the Others, or Gendry or Faceless Men. It was only a mother sitting and sewing with her two daughters. Most of the time, it was just Arya asking about a certain way to sew with mother patiently explaining what she was doing wrong.
As they sat Sansa realised just how much she had been running around doing things since the spell. The constant tension was ebbing out of her as she continued to sew quietly with them. And she realised now just how much all three of them needed this moment of quiet. Maybe they could make a habit of it? Set aside an hour or two to just sit together and forget the turmoil that had engulfed the Seven Kingdoms.
She suggested this to them and the first genuine smile she'd seen in a long time appeared on her mother's face. Arya looked just as happy. Sansa knew that Arya was just humoring their mother, her sister's dislike of sewing had never changed...but she wasn't going to say anything to mother. Mother needed this quiet time more than they did.
Time passed and all was calm.
Their idyllic peace was broken when someone knocked on the door.
Sansa looked up from her sewing and exchanged glances with mother and Arya.
"Come," called out mother sounding much more commanding, the old tones of authority returning to her in this moment.
The door opened and in walked Ser Roderick, he bowed to them.
"Forgive the intrusion my Ladies, there is a visitor at the gates requesting an audience. The Manderly men are refusing his admittance without a command from Lady Sansa or Lord Davos," he stated in confusion as he scratched at his chin.
Sansa frowned, what now?
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As Sansa walked out to the courtyard she could feel the tension in the air. The men were on edge. The Stark men had their hands on their weapons, but the Manderly men had drawn their swords and stood at the ready, their eyes not leaving the old man and his wagon.
The man stood there unafraid of the swords drawn around him. He wore simple robes, almost like a maester but he had no chain around his neck. He was balding with grey hair and was wiry thin. He did not look at all threatening.
So why were the Manderly men afraid enough of him to draw their swords?
Mother and Arya had come along with her. As the approached, mother began frowning...and there was recognition in her eyes.
"I know you," mother stated in confusion. "You were at Harrenhal. You survived when everyone else died."
The man bowed, he gave mother a wide smile, "I am honored that you remember me, my lady." He turned to Sansa, "It is a great honor to finally meet you, Lady Sansa, I have heard a great deal about you." His gaze flickered to Arya, "And I have heard even more of the dreaded Lady Arya." He bowed deeply, "I mean no harm, I am merely here to offer my services to you."
Sansa nodded back him suspiciously, he seemed very aware of who they were, but she didn't know him. And neither it seemed did Arya. Mother's words didn't make much sense, a survivor of Harrenhal? She tried to remember when or if Harrenhal had been sacked during one of the many battles in the Riverlands, but none came to mind. Especially any sacks that had occurred before the Red Wedding.
As Sansa tried to remember, Davos arrived. Lady Shireen came with him, he looked wary for a moment as he took in the drawn swords, keeping Shireen by his side as they approached. He took one look at the man and then blanched in recognition. He shoved Shireen behind him and drew his sword. He stepped up the man and placed the blade at the man's neck.
"Qyburn," Davos spat in anger.
The blood drained from Sansa's face. Qyburn? Cersei's Qyburn?! Why was he here?
Mother paled, she knew they name. They'd spoken at length about this monster. Arya had pushed her back and pulled a dagger out from somewhere, brandishing it menacingly in Qyburn's direction. Shireen was looking on on shock at Davos. Sansa didn't know if Davos had explained to her exactly who Qyburn was. While Ser Roderick had stepped up and placed himself protectively next to Sansa, though his sword remained undrawn.
"Ser Davos," Qyburn stated unmoved by the sword now held at his neck, even as his face remained placid and unworried, "an honor to see you again," he stated evenly without a hint of hostility.
"An honor?! I'm about to honor you now," Davos spat back, pressing with his sword and forcing Qyburn to talk a step back away from them.
"All I ask is that you hear me out...before taking any drastic measures," he said unhurried with a kind smile on his face, "I am not your enemy...and I can prove it."
Davos scoffed, "Why the fuck would we do that?! And there's nothing you could do to prove it!" he shot back seething with anger.
"My Lord, who is he?" Ser Roderick asked, eyeing Qyburn suspiciously.
Davos shot a look at Roderick, and then at the confused Stark guards before answering, "He's a necromancer," stated Davos angrily. Not that she could blame him. Qyburn's creations had wreaked havoc in King's Landing when Cersei had released them, "And he was Cersei Lannister's Hand. He can't be trusted."
Now the Stark men drew their swords, horror written on their faces after Davos's announcement. Ser Roderick's face turned red as he scowled darkly at Qyburn, his sword now drawn and at the ready.
Qyburn was undaunted, "I am many things, the necromancy was a just an unexpected discovery. There are many things that I am capable of. I started out as a healer and my skills are quite remarkable now. But I assure you I am not your enemy, here and now. I even come bearing a very significant gift to prove my intentions...and it one our new King will welcome greatly."
The gall of the man was astounding, with so many swords pointed him, nevertheless, to Sansa, his words were...intriguing.
With narrowed and suspicious eyes, she stepped forward, past Ser Roderick and placed a hand on Davos's, slowly pushing it- and his sword, down and away from Qyburn's neck.
"Let us see this gift," she stated evenly.
"My Lady! He's too dangerous-" Davos began sputtering in anger.
Sansa cut him off, "We can take his head later," she gestured around at the numerous armed and watchful guards, "He's still only one man."
Davos frowned, but after another unhappy look at her, he reluctantly acquiesced.
Qyburn's smile widened and he bowed deeply, "Thank you, my Lady, I assure you, you will not be disappointed."
Sansa gave him a dubious look, "We'll see."
His smile didn't change as he turned and walked back to his waiting wagon under their watchful eyes. It took him a small while, as he manhandled a small barrel out of his wagon. Under the suspicious eyes of the Stark guards, he placed it on the ground. He knelt down and opened it. Setting the cover aside carefully, he rolled up his sleeves before reaching in and pulling out a large round something. He turned around and revealed that the large round something was a head.
A very recognizable head.
The guards murmured at this and Mother and Shireen turned pale.
With a very calm and smug tone he turned to Sansa and Davos as he smugly said, "I believe that you recognize who this is?"
Davos, slowly and reluctantly answered him, "Aye."
Sansa could only stare at the head, before a wolfish smile came to her lips, Sandor would be disappointed, but better that he was never named a Kinslayer, "It's the Mountain."
Mother gasped in surprise, "The Mountain?!"
Qyburn nodded, "Indeed, my Lady," he paused for a second and gave both Davos and Sansa pointed looks, "I believe in terms of gifts, this speaks well of my intentions."
"It is an...impressive gift," Sansa admitted with a nod of agreement.
"Why...why did you do this?" Davos asked in confusion, cutting to the heart of the matter.
"Simple, he nodded at Mother, "Lady Stark remembered what he tried to do to me. He didn't. He forgot that he nearly murdered me at Harrenhal. He left me to die there- he did succeed in killing everyone else there. What I did to him the first time around was exceedingly painful. And he did deserve every moment of it," Qyburn explained with smugness, "After this return...he came to me, he wished to become as powerful as I had made him before- though obviously without the loss of his free will...well I could hardly let this opportunity pass me by? I am well aware of what is coming and this time I will not be caught on the wrong side of matters. So I dealt with him. And his men. I may have served Cersei once, but that is a path to ruin now. You know my skill, Lady Sansa, it is at your disposal," Qyburn stated without any fear in his voice and a small courteous bow.
Sansa stared at him. She kept her face blank as she imagined the uses they could get from him, if he was truly honest now. And truthfully, from what she'd heard from Jaime, Qyburn seemed a man of his word...despite his perversions. His skills as a healer was unparalleled and without equal. Again, Jaime could personally attest to them.
Davos was still glaring at the man, "Well I thank you for Clegane's head. I'll be sure to put it on a spike next to yours."
Sansa kept herself from panicking, she could talk Davos away from this course of action.
Qyburn's face tightened and his eyes narrowed, "I am more than willing to prove my value to you as many times as needed. My intentions are honorable here," he raised a hand and pointed it behind them.
Sansa and Davos turned to look at what he was pointing at. Davos turned back to him an enraged look, bringing his sword back up to Qyburn's neck as they both realised he was pointing at Shireen.
"...I have quite an experience with dealing with scars...the lady need not remain the way she is. It would not be a painless or perfect process- but there is much I can do to mitigate the pain with what I now know," Qyburn explained encouragingly as he tempted Davos, "And I have nothing to gain from hurting her."
Davos's face froze and his sword wavered as Sansa saw her opportunity.
She pushed down Davos's sword for second time, she gave Davos a hard look as she spoke, "This merits some discussion. Much discussion indeed."
Davos looked at her torn, his eyes flickering back and forth between Shireen and Qyburn.
"...don't you agree, Ser Davos?" she said dragging Davos's attention back to her.
Their eyes locked and she could see how Davos was torn. He wanted to help Shireen...but to do that he'd have to trust Qyburn.
"At the very least, we should speak to Jon before doing any rash," Sansa put forth shrewdly.
Davos's face squirmed uncomfortably, "Fine. He can rot in a cell till the King decides what to do with him."
"You are most wise and merciful, my lord," Qyburn bowed humbly.
Davos looked away in disgust, "Get him out of my sight and put him in the dungeon," he commanded brusquely.
The guards obeyed, grabbing Qyburn and pulling him away from the gates of Winterfell and his wagon.
As they walked away, Qyburn called back loudly, "There are many books in my wagon, please feel free to have your maester look though them all. I have nothing to hide there and much knowledge to share."
Davos was scowling darkly, Ser Roderick shared his expression and Arya had put away her dagger but held a guarded expression on her face. Shireen had a stunned expression, that final offer of Qyburn had come out of nowhere to surprise them all, most of all the girl with the Greyscale scars.
Mother was still pale and shocked, "He seemed like such...such a humble man when I first met him," she stammered.
Sansa didn't have an answer or retort for her, the only thing she was sure of was that now, more than anything else, after this unexpected development, she appreciated the need for some more quiet time.
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Jon Targaryen
His stomach was bouncing around like an acrobat in a mummer's troupe. The Last Hearth had been so much more easily dealt with than anyone had expected. Greatjon had been much more accommodating than the gruff and loud lord was known to be...though Jon knew it mostly had to do with the sheer disappointment and shame Greatjon had felt over his son's actions than anything they had actually done.
But that had been days ago, and the road to the Wall stood in front of them. A consolidated North stood with him, more than enough to reinforce the Wall and between that, the Night's Watch, and the Free Folk. It would be enough to properly man the Wall as they dealt with Robert before turning back to deal with the Night King.
And of course, it was more than enough time for father to cool off, the Greatjon's inadvertent revelation had caught everyone off guard and father's reaction hadn't been any less than Jon had expected. Jon was the King but in that moment he'd felt like a child again, being called to task by his father. Though the scene of having the Lord of Winterfell dragging the King of the Seven Kingdoms out of the main hall of the Last Hearth by the scruff of his neck like an errant pup had also cemented father's new reputation for rashness and unexpected actions. The lack of reprimand from Jon had also shown the other Lords just how much power the Lord of Winterfell had in this new world.
Overall, not an unwanted outcome, better that father be respected and feared now. It would make any grumblings about unpopular decisions much quieter that way.
Which brought him back to the reason that he was so nervous now. As father had confronted him in the face of the truth about Arya, his demands for all the truth had shaken him, and Jon blurted out the first thing that came to mind. The truth of Jorah Mormont had been grudgingly accepted. Of course that wasn't everything, there was the several rather glaring omissions he'd been dancing around...most importantly what really happened during the mutiny at Castle Black. There were other less painful truths but it was that that preyed on Jon's mind.
Afterwards, he'd know that father had to be told everything and that was what he was dreading.
Robb was another, though lesser issue. His brother was starting to accept everything and Jon had on occasion glimpsed the old cocky Robb from time to time. There had been a shift away from his melancholy since they'd left the Last Hearth. So thankfully that was one less thing that perturbed Jon. It was good to truly have his brother back.
The past nights had seen father with Lord Reed- something that Jon was very thankful for. Howland Reed had a calming effect on father...though quite a bit of drinking was involved as well. The Greatjon had joined them after they left the Last Hearth. Rickard Karstark was still too afraid of father to join them, not that he was truly welcome after everything that had happened.
And that was where Jon was heading now, with Ghost following dutifully behind him.
The Reed encampment was about as northern as you could get, in terms of simplicity and functionality. As Jon walked though it, the men would bow and smile at him. A chorus of 'your grace', following behind him. He was getting used to it, but at times it still jarred him and he had to remind himself that yes, he was the King. It was a necessity in these times and not something he had aspired to...but this was the new truth of his world.
He fought off a sigh as he approached Howland Reed's campfire. Ghost suddenly bounded ahead of him. Ghost silently ambushed his brother. Grey Wind started and yipped as he started to wrestle with Ghost.
Jon smiled, the antics of the direwolves were always amusing- at least outside of battle.
As Jon approached, he saw that the others there were just as startled as Grey Wind. Father and Howland were nursing cups of ale as they settled back down, while the Greatjon was eyeing the two direwolves warily as he rubbed his right hand. Robb sat opposite them and had a smile on his face as he watched the direwolves wrestle playfully.
Robb saw him first and he grabbed another goblet and offered it up to Jon, "Come on Jon, there's enough here for all of us, even with the Greatjon here."
Greatjon turned to Robb and gave him a piercing look, "Sure we do...if you give me your share," he retorted mockingly.
Robb laughed and shook the goblet at Jon again.
Jon approached and accepted the cup as he sat down on a rock next to Robb, "Thank you." He held out the cup and Robb filled it for him.
Jon took a sip and nodded at the others.
Greatjon bowed his head and said, "Your Grace."
Father and Howland just smiled and nodded at him. Father was looking better now, there was an ease to his features that had been missing for a while now.
"Nice of you to join us," Robb started cheerfully, "Glad to see you're not too busy being king to find time to spend with your lowly subjects," he added cheekily.
Jon grinned back at Robb, "For Father, I always have the time, as for you...it depends on how annoying you're acting."
Robb laughed and grinned at the jape. The others joined him, though Father only smiled with amusement. It warmed Jon to see them all so at ease. None of which helped his still queasy stomach, considering all the things he'd decided to finally share with him. With them all.
The grin disappeared from his face, he squared his shoulders and cleared his throat loudly. They looked up at him expectantly in response.
He took a deep breath, "I actually came here to talk, there's a few things I need to say."
Father's face became guarded, his smile disappearing. Robb gave him a long look, but remained silent.
Greatjon rose from his seat, "Not for my ears, I'm guessing," as he made to leave.
"Stay Lord Umber, you should hear this as well," Jon said, gesturing for the big man to sit back down.
Greatjon had a wary expression on his face as he sat back down. Howland Reed was sitting forward now, looking between them all with a confused expression on his face.
Jon took another deep breath, "There are...some things you should all be made aware of," he began, he looked to father, "I know I said that I told you everything- and that is true...for the most part."
Father's face was darkening even more and he had a hard upset look in his eyes now, with a deep breath he plunged in, "When I was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, there was a mutiny."
Father and Robb nodded at that, he'd told them,but without many details. Greatjon looked angry and disgusted now at the mention of a mutiny.
Howland on the other looked surprised and incredulous, "You haven't told Ned that, yet?!" he cut in. He paused for a moment and then gave Jon a long searching look, "And now, I really see the resemblance to your mother," he said with a rueful shake of his head.
Jon wasn't sure if that was compliment or not, but he let it pass as father's stare bored into him.
"You told us about this already," Robb stated in confusion.
"I did," Jon admitted, "we're going to the Wall and this will probably be mentioned there. What I didn't tell you is that Thorne and the other mutineers...they...sorta...killed me," Jon stated evenly, bracing himself.
Robb blinked several times, confusion on his face as he stared at Jon. Greatjon's reaction was much the same, but he could see Father's a myriad of emotions rising in face. The foremost of which were rage and despair.
Jon quickly continued, "I didn't stay dead. It was Stannis's Red Witch. She raised me from the dead," Jon blurted out quickly before father could explode.
The stunned expressions were exactly like he expected them, though Howland had a firm grip on father now, keeping him seated.
"You were dead...and then you weren't?" Robb spoke carefully, seemingly not believing his own words.
Jon nodded, "Aye."
Robb took a moment before speaking again, "So the Red Witch killed Renly and raised you from the dead? Does that sum up her power?" he asked, his face scrunched up in confusion and disbelief.
Jon nodded again, "Aye."
Robb gave him an unreadable look and then drained his cup quickly. He refilled it and then drained it again as quickly. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and then looked to Jon, "She's on our side now, right?"
Again, Jon nodded, "Aye."
Robb's expression didn't really change at his answer, though he remained looking at Jon.
Through clenched teeth, father spoke up, "Is there anything else you want to tell us?" he demanded, upset but with a firm hold on his temper.
"There is a couple more things that I want to mention...but now you know pretty much everything relevant that happened to me," Jon admitted with a wince.
Father took a very deep breath, "Everything that happened to you...but not everything that happened to Sansa...or Arya?" he asked, grinding his teeth in obvious frustration.
Robb shot father a concerned look and then looked back to Jon alarmed at the notion.
"No, you know all the bad things that happened to them," he reassured father and Robb as Greatjon and Howland looked on, "What I have to tell you is mainly little things that would surprise you and some would come up in conversations when we eventually head back south."
Father didn't say anything else, but after a long look at Jon he silently gestured for Jon to continue.
Jon nodded, "Beric Dondarrion."
Father frowned in confusion, "Lord Dondarrion? What about him?"
"He died...seven times," Jon stated evenly.
Next to him Robb jerked and gaped at him, the Greatjon held a near identical expression and father was blinking rapidly.
"...Thoros. Thoros raised him from the dead six times. The seventh death was right before Bran cast his spell," Jon continued.
"Thoros?! Thoros of Myr?! That Thoros?!" Greatjon thundered in surprise.
Jon nodded, "He is a Red Priest, just like the Red Witch."
Greatjon scoffed, "I know he's a priest! But even I know he's a really bad Red Priest..."
"And yet he raised Beric Dondarrion six times...trust me, no one was more surprised than Thoros was when it first happened," Jon admitted.
Father was silent and looking a little disturbed now, "I..." father suddenly threw up his hands as if in surrender, "I don't know how to react to this," he admitted. He stopped and cast another look at Jon, "I'm assuming there is more?" he finished dryly.
Jon reluctantly nodded, "The rest is more...it's more..." he stumbled over his words, unsure of how to say what he wanted to say.
"Just get on with it Jon, we don't have all night," Father commanded unhappily, "just tell us everything and be done with it," he finished in exasperation.
"Aye! What Ned said," Greatjon added quickly.
Jon grimaced, he decided to just blurt out the next issue, "While Sansa was a hostage in King's Landing...you know how Joffrey treated her..."
Father and Robb's faces darkened as he began.
"...she had no friends and no one to help her...except-"
"Except who?" demanded father unhappily.
"Except Sandor Clegane."
Father and Robb's faces transformed into expressions of bewilderment.
"The Hound?!" Father intoned, incredulous.
"And Tyrion Lannister...but Sansa has already told you how he protected her. Sandor...Sandor is not his brother. He may have done evil things, but deep down he is a good man," explained Jon.
Their bewilderment grew, he could see them trying to come to grips with what he was saying and trying to question it.
"He protected Sansa from everyone- as much as he could. Even from herself. Sansa admitted this to me," he nodded at father, "Right after you were executed, there was this moment were she almost tried to kill Joffrey-"
"Sansa tried to kill Joffrey?!" Robb blurted out in shock, as father looked stricken at that admission.
Jon nodded, "She was going to push him off a walkway on the battlements of the Red Keep...and it would probably have cost her her life in the process. Sandor saw it and got between them, stopping her. And saving her."
Father was working his jaw silently, while Robb was still stunned.
"He deserted Joffrey after the battle of Blackwater bay and later on he also protected Arya for a time," Jon paused and looked at them. Father and Robb were shocked, and so was Greatjon. The Cleganes' reputation was well know, and this didn't sound the least bit like either of the brothers. "Both Arya and Sansa are fond of him now..."
Father was rubbing at his forehead, as Greatjon gave him a concerned look. Robb was drinking again. Howland had been silent for while now, but he was still giving Jon that same unreadable expression from before.
Jon was silent for a while before clearing his throat.
Father looked at him, "More?! You still have more?!"
"Well....one more thing, though this is more a...funny thing. Well, a funny thing looking back. It was rather nerve wracking for Arya at the time," Jon finished lamely.
He had their undivided attention now, as Howland's eyes brightened before chuckling, realizing what Jon was going to say.
The others cast Howland look before turning back to Jon.
He cleared his throat again and began, "After Arya escaped from King's Landing with Yoren and his Night's Watch recruits...she eventually ended in Harrenhal...where Tywin Lannister unknowingly made her his cup bearer."
Father and Robb blinked and stared at Jon. The continued to stare at him blinking in confusion and disbelief. Greatjon's sudden laughter caused them to jerk in surprise. They stared at him for a moment before Robb began grinning. Then he joined Greatjon, laughing at the absurdity of Arya's situation. Father looked at them in confusion. Then he snorted. His lips parted and then he joined them, chuckling as well.
Jon smiled at their mirth, everyone needed a good laugh and it was good to see father laughing like this.
Robb was laughing so hard now, tears were streaming down his cheeks, "Ha ha...ha...they were...tearing...ha ha...King's Landing...apart looking for her...and she...ha ha...was right under Tywin's nose?!" he managed to say between laughs.
"That's that Stark wolfsblood for you," Howland added with a wide smile and chuckle.
Jon grinned, "Apparently Tywin actually liked her...he even smiled at her a couple of times."
That set off the Greatjon and Robb again, the idea of Tywin actually liking her and smiling. They howled with laughter. Father's mirth didn't reach their heights, he was still chuckling happily along with them at Tywin's cluelessness.
Jon, as he sat with them nursing his drink, and watching them laugh themselves out, was just glad that Father hadn't lost his temper again tonight.
Now all they had to do was get to Wall. Then get south again and deal with Robert. Then deal with the bickering Kingdoms of Westeros. Then head North again and deal with the Others.
A pained smile came to Jon's face. He took a long drink from his cup. So much fun to look forward to...