The morning after the attack, the castle was still in disarray as a quietly furious Eyan Hawker and his captains led patrols through the entire castle, turning it upside down and inside out in an attempt to find any more ironborn or where they managed to sneak into the castle.
When the king had named his council and other individuals to high-ranking offices, Tyrion had only doubted one. Eyan Hawker was a young man, just a year younger than the king himself, but he was still a dangerous man. He had an experienced hunter's eye for detail and never seemed to miss a thing. Tyrion once caught sight of him walking through the halls of a castle, a squadron of his men at his back. He wasn't walking, he was stalking, hunting down any remains of the intruders.
Ser Davos had arrived not long after Euron Greyjoy was killed, marching into the room with a dozen of his men. Tyrion had quickly filled him in with what had happened. Like others, Ser Davos was outraged and confused with how Euron and his men got through their defenses. His men were well trained and as professional as they came. There was no way a crew of at least three dozen men could have gotten into the castle without raising the alarm.
The five men who had battled Euron; Jaime, Randyll Tarly, Ser Brynden, Ser Rolland, and Ser Loras were currently being checked out by the Grand Maester in the small council chambers as the rest of the councilors filed in, each looking grave as they took their seats. Tyrion and Margaery had been seated for quite some time while he tried to console the queen, who was still traumatized from the night before.
"Where is she!" the Queen of Thorns demanded as she stormed into the room, her cane clacking angrily on the floor.
"Lady Olenna," Jaime called, heaving himself to his feet. He had fallen into the seat to the left of Margaery almost as soon as he entered the room, but he moved now so that the old woman could be by her granddaughter.
Olenna nodded sternly towards the former knight before taking her seat and grabbing Margaery's hands. The queen's hands were shaking and she was pale. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her breathing was still a little shaky. Tyrion knew that if anyone else looked at her, they would say that she has a haunted look to her. She's still afraid that Euron Greyjoy will come back.
Tyrion knew the young woman better. Her appearance was one of shock, but her eyes still had their steel and had retained their observant, intelligent look. That's all Tyrion needed to see to know that the queen would be alright eventually.
"What happened?" Olenna snapped, looking at Tyrion.
Tyrion held up his hand. "We're waiting for Commander Hawker and Ser Davos to join us first with their reports," he answered calmly. "Ser Rolland, have your replacements shown up?"
"Yes, yes," Olenna said impatiently. "Ser Balon and Ser Hobber are out there."
Tyrion raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Thank you," he said, now turning his gaze on Samwell. "Grand Maester, have you had a chance to look over the body?"
Samwell looked up from where he was stitching a cut on Ser Brynden's arm. He shook his head sadly. "I saw the body, my lord, and I'm not sure I'll be able to get anything from it."
"Then we'll get a maester who can!" Olenna snapped.
"My lady, it's not a matter of my skills," Samwell explained with forced calmness. "The body has turned completely black. I looked at the eye before I came here, Lord Tyrion. It looks like it was burnt by a torch. Everything about the man is unnatural."
Tyrion grimaced. "Do what you can," he said. "Then we'll burn the damn thing."
Samwell nodded and went back to his work.
"Has word been sent to the king?" Lord Royce asked.
"Not yet," Tyrion answered. "I will send a full report north as soon as we have more information."
"Should we not call him back from the North?" Lord Mallister chimed in now. "His family was just attacked!"
"No," Margaery said, her voice strong and clear. For a while, she had been looking down at the table, but now she looked up. "My husband needs to deal with what we're about to face. The rest of us will focus our attention on why the ironborn were able to get into the castle and why they attacked us."
Tyrion couldn't help but be impressed. There was no room for argument in her tone, no fear for those who had just attempted to kill both her and her son. There was only a steely determination to see those who threatened her family face justice. Margaery Tyrell was no Lannister, but Tyrion knew that whoever was behind the attack would certainly feel her wrath.
"Very well," Tyrion said before anyone else could speak up. "Given Maester Samwell's report of the body, there is one man who might be able to help us."
"Who?" Olenna asked, looking ready to get on a horse herself and chase them down.
"The Green Man," Tyrion said simply. "Let's be honest with ourselves. What Euron Greyjoy did last night was magic. Dark magic from the looks of it. There isn't a person in here who knows anything about that. The Green Man might have an answer."
"You said might." Lady Anya noticed. "You're unsure."
"Of course, I'm unsure, my lady." Tyrion laughed sadly. "That man is as mysterious as the mad man Lord Tarly killed last night."
The conversation was redirected when Eyan Hawker and Ser Davos entered the room. Both men wore similar stoney expressions with red-rimmed eyes. If anyone needed a good night's sleep, it was them. Both men had stayed up all night working. Eyan had searched the castle while Davos and his men had ridden down practically every street in the city, checking warehouses, ships, and any other places where Euron could have hid.
"What have you found?" Tyrion asked.
Ser Davos folded his hands behind his back as Eyan crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. It was the Onion Knight who spoke first.
"We found the bodies of gold cloaks hidden within a storage warehouse on the harbor." Ser Davos reported grimly. "None of their weapons were bloody and most looked like they had been attacked from behind. I doubt they had the chance to fight back."
"How many?" Lord Tarly asked.
"It looks like the majority of men I had guarding the harbor." Ser Davos answered grimly. "Nearly fifty men. I looked through all the bodies. Some of them were the best I had."
"You had them at the harbor and not the Red Keep?" Olenna asked though it sounded more like an accusation.
"Forgive me, my lady, but it's my experience that most threats come through the harbor." Ser Davos answered. "In this case, I was right. I found Euron's ship."
"Where was it?" Tyrion asked.
"It was docked near the Sea Lance." Ser Davos said, nodding towards Lord Mallister. "One of the new longships for the Royal Fleet. Ironborn longships also have a few particularities to them that allow me to identify them on sight. Euron's did not have those, which took me a little longer to find it."
"Was there anyone left on it?" Lord Mallister asked.
"I searched the ship top to bottom, my lord." Ser Davos said. "I found no one but I did find one thing."
"Which was…." Tyrion prompted.
"It looked to be a shrine, my lord." Ser Davos explained, paling slightly. "It was splattered with blood, bone, and seawater. I believe it was for the Drowned God."
"Euron was spouting a lot of nonsense about death and the Drowned God." Jaime pointed out, looking at Tyrion. "Whatever was wrong with him has to be because of something he did that involved his god."
"Precisely why we need the Green Man." Tyrion nodded. "Unless we feel like traveling to Qarth and consulting warlocks, there is only one man who has any knowledge of magic."
"Jaime Lannister," Margaery said, looking at the older lannister brother. "You helped save my life and that of my child. That is a debt I mean to repay, but first, I have one mission for you, if you are willing to undertake it."
Jaime sat up a little in his chair, straightening his shoulders and nodding firmly. "Of course, your grace."
"Track down and find the Green Man," Margaery ordered. "Bring him back here as soon as possible. Whatever you need, we will provide it."
"All I need's a horse and some armor, my lady," Jaime said. "Do we know where the Green Man has gone?"
"He was last seen at Storm's End." Alec Reed said, speaking for the first time. "I would start there."
Jaime nodded. "I'll leave tomorrow morning."
"Thank you," Margaery said. "Ser Davos, begin drafting men immediately to replace those you lost."
"What of his ship?" the former smuggler asked.
"Burn it," Margaery said immediately. "I want nothing to remain of the foul thing. Grand Maester, I would like copious notes on whatever you're able to pry from the body. If you need further help, let me know and we'll summon the foremost expert on anatomy from the Citadel."
"Thank you, your grace," Samwell said. "I will begin immediately."
"Eyan, have the bodies of Euron's raiders burned as well. We don't know if they were….possessed or not." Margaery added.
"I'll see to it personally," Hawker promised.
"Have you found where they were able to get in?" Margaery asked.
Eyan nodded. "There are tunnels and secret passages throughout the Red Keep, built by Maegor I. I searched two until I came across one that emerged out into the harbor. I have my men searching all the rest and I drafted your steward, your grace, to help draw a rough map."
"Thank you. Ser Brynden, would you be willing to find more men to fill the ranks of our household guard?" Margaery asked. "I'm unsure of how many we lost in the recent attack, but I would like the group back to full strength. I would also like you to test the skills of every member as well."
"I will see it done." the old knight nodded.
"This may be too much, but Lord Royce, have your patrols ride down the coast as well." Margaery continued, rattling off orders. "We don't know if Euron has worked alone, but I will leave nothing to uncertainty."
"Not a problem." the old lord said. "Lord Mallister, can your longships patrol the Blackwater?"
"Of course." the Lord of Seaguard said, scribbling down his orders.
"Thank you both," Margaery said. "Master Reed, see if you can find where Euron came from. Does he have allies in the Iron Islands that we need to know about?"
"I will see what I can find, your grace, but from what I understand, the man has been banned from ever returning," Reed explained. "However, since both Victarion and Balon are dead, there is a chance he has been welcomed back by a few."
"If he does, find them," Margaery ordered. "We'll decide what to do with them should you find any."
Finally, the queen turned towards Tyrion. "Lord Tyrion, I give you temporary power of the king. I am in no state to rule. I will not and cannot hide it. I will return when I am ready, but as of right now, the Seven Kingdoms are in your hands."
Tyrion nodded slowly. "I will handle them with care, my lady. When you are ready to return, simply say the word and they are yours again."
Margaery stood up. "If I am needed, I shall be with my children," she looked over to the Queen of Thorns. "Grandmother."
Olenna simply nodded and rose as well, following her granddaughter as the two Tyrell women made their way out of the room. As soon as they were out the door, the two kingsguard flanked the queen and followed her.
Tyrion waited a moment before breaking the silence in the room. "That will be all for today, I think," he said gently. "Ser Loras, Ser Rolland, take half the day to rest and heal. When you are ready, resume your duty to the queen."
"Your wounds will take a few days to heal." Maester Samwell added. "When they begin to scab over, leave them be."
"Thank you, maester." Ser Rolland grunted, getting to his feet. "Thank you, as well, for your help," he said, looking at Jaime, the Blackfish, and Lord Tarly.
"Think nothing of it," Jaime said. "You did your duty and protected the queen from a deranged and dangerous madman. Who is the acting lord commander?"
"Ser Balon," Loras answered, getting to his feet as well.
"Before I leave, I will ask that he add to both your pages," Jaime promised. "You deserve to be recognized."
"Thank you, Jaime," Loras said with a nod before striding out of the room, Ser Rolland following right behind.
"The queen has given us her orders," Tyrion said, bringing the meeting to an end. "We have work to do."
Samwell Tarly
"This doesn't fucking make sense." Artos grumbled, dropping into a chair.
The clansman had become something of an assistant to the grand maester. They had spent so much time together while researching the Long Night that they had come to know each other on an intellectual level. Sam always seemed to know where Artos' mind was going and Artos has the same connection with Sam. Personally and physically, they were as different as could be, but working together for months had partially molded their minds into one.
Sam crossed his arms and began to pace back and forth, occasionally glancing at the dead body on the table. It was a true anatomical wonder. Or horror, in this case. Euron Greyjoy was said to be a mad man and examining his body was driving Sam insane. None it seemed to make any bloody sense!
Sam stopped pacing and turned to gaze at the body. The blood under the skin had turned the entire body black as night. Whenever he touched a piece of the body, it had a little push but was still firm. Almost like the blood had turned to gelatin. Then there was the eye, the one that Tyrion had said was blazing blue like fire. Whatever fire there was, it had certainly left its mark. The eye was a scared, burned mess of an object. The other eye had been unaffected.
Because there was no other eye. Just a bloody socket where it looked like the eyeball had been carved out with a knife.
Euron's body had been stripped of its armor and clothes, leaving only a simple cloth over the man's privates. It was clear to see where the man had been injured, and none were more prominent than where Eyan's axe had carved into his chest. But, like all the rest of his injuries, that too had been covered by a black foam, like the kind that could be found on the ocean.
Yet the only injury that hadn't healed was where Sam's father had pierced Euron's shoulder with the valyrian steel sword Heartsbane. Blood wasn't oozing out of it, even though the wound was still open and raw, but when Sam had touched the flesh inside, it was wrinkled and dry, like a hand after spending too much time in the water.
However, that wasn't the strangest thing about that wound. Euron Greyjoy had at least five wounds on his body that would have resulted in his death. Hell, all the marks on his body should have killed him, but where Sam's father had struck him wouldn't have been a killing blow. Euron may have lost his arm at worst, but death would not have come.
"Perhaps it was the work of the Others," Sam suggested, but Artos shook his head.
"The Others are connected to death," he countered. "Euron was a living, breathing man. The Others couldn't have controlled him or else we would have read about it."
Sam scowled and went back to pacing. "Well something did," he said. "Tyrion was deathly serious when he said that Euron's eye blazed like fire. Jaime, Ser Brynden, and all the rest supported his statement. Eyan called the man possessed."
"He was." Artos grumbled, gesturing to the body. "Normal people don't fucking die like that."
"So the question remains: What, or who possessed him?" Sam said.
"The Drowned God!" Artos erupted. "Damn it, Sam! It's not fucking hard to see!"
Sam took a step back. "Calm down," he said, holding up a hand. "What proof do we have that it's the Drowned God? He has thousands of supporters. Why would he now take control of one and why wouldn't we have heard of it happening before?"
Artos shot to his feet and got in Sam's face. It took everything in the maester's power not to flinch or shy away like he normally would. Even though Sam had learned how to be confident, especially in the role Robb had given him, he was still afraid of physical violence. He was a man of learning, more comfortable grabbing a book than a sword.
"Stop thinking with this," Artos demanded, shoving a finger against Sam's temple before stabbing him in his gut. "What do you feel, Sam? What does your gut tell you? This is magic, it doesn't make sense. Stop trying to make it make sense."
Sam nodded slowly. "My gut tells me that this is the work of the Drowned God," he said quietly.
"Good." Artos said, walking to the other side of the table. "Now, think with your head and find out the connection between the Drowned God and valyrian steel."
Sam frowned. "You just told me…."
"I know what I told you." Artos snapped. "That was to get you to understand what we're dealing with. Now stop blabbering and think."
Sam frowned further but did as the clansman said. After a moment, he thought he had an answer.
"Valyrian steel was said to have been made with dragon's breath and magic," he said slowly. "This is magic against magic. Magic of light against the magic of darkness."
Artos threw his hands in the air. "There you go," he said finally. "You asked who took over the man. It was the Drowned God. You wondered why it was only your father's sword that harmed him. It was forged with magic and fire and against the Drowned God's magic, it won."
Sam crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "That's all well and good, Artos, but that explanation won't be sufficient for the Small Council or the King, whenever he hears of this."
"Then let the Green Man see the body and he'll say the same damn thing." Artos said. "This cannot be explained by logic, Sam. This is magic and we are about to be attacked by things most people think are myths. Sooner or later, people will realize that there are simply some things in life that will never make sense."
With that said, Artos stormed out of the room, throwing over his shoulder:
"I'm going to get drunk."
Robb Stark
Oakenshield was much like the rest of the castles along the Wall: rubble and ruins. The barracks were full of rats and frayed mattresses of straw, the armory had caved in on itself, and the winch that led to the top of the Wall had so much rust on the chain that a good tug could probably snap it. The only place that was remotely livable was the mess hall after the rat droppings and bugs had been swept from the place.
The group was a day's ride from where Robb's father was camped with Mance Rayder and the rest of the wildlings. A wagoneer bringing supplies from Castle Black heading to Eastwatch had been kind enough to give Robb that information, as well as the full story of what had happened at Castle Black. The man had said that Castle Black was fractured now because of it. Half the men there defended Jon while the other half backed the Lord Commander.
"It's a bloody mess," had been the wagoneer's blunt assessment of the situation.
The fireplace at the back of the hall housed Robb's small fire as the king poked and prodded the coals before he threw another chair leg on the flames. Most of the benches, chairs, and tables were unusable to anyone, so they became kindle for the group's cooking fire and to keep the room warm as they slept.
"You look like your father," Ser Barristan said quietly, easing himself into the chair next to Robb. The old knight was on first watch tonight, and Ser Jorah would replace him at midnight. Given the snow and the horrible state of the castle, Robb and his companions doubted that they were in much danger. Still, Brienne had been adamant about being vigilant, a sentiment echoed by Ser Barristan.
"He had that very look the night before the walls of Pyke came crumbling down." Barristan continued. "That had been a good, quick war."
"He never was a fan of war," Robb grunted.
"No, he didn't," Barristan agreed, "but he was very good at it. Your father worried Rhaegar as much as Robert did."
"You knew Rhaegar well, didn't you?" Robb asked.
The old knight nodded. "I like to think I did. Arthur Dayne knew his mind better than anyone, but I advised the prince from time to time."
"Was he a good man?"
"You seem to have already made up your mind about him."
"I mean before Harrenhal?"
Ser Barristan nodded. "He was a good man, your grace. He was beloved by everyone who met him. He was thoughtful, considerate, kind, and caring. He would have made a good king."
"Daenerys reminds you of him, doesn't she," Robb said, glancing over his shoulder at the sleeping form of the Lady of Dragonstone.
"She does," Ser Barristan sighed. "You were right to keep her alive. She realizes the mistakes her family made. She truly does want to change the image of her House."
"That will take years," Robb grunted.
"She's a driven girl," Ser Barristan countered. "She'll prove you right, your grace. Don't you worry."
"Never said I was," Robb said, glancing at the knight before changing the subject. "Do you think she's prepared?"
"To face your father?"
"To hear the truth," Robb shook his head. "You can't imagine the lengths my father has gone to preserve this secret. He defied his best friend, his king. He risked the wrath of Tywin Lannister. This is a secret that could start another war."
"Another?" Ser Barristan asked curiously.
Robb frowned and turned his whole body so that he was facing the knight. "Look me in the eye and tell me you thought the Aegon that died by my hand was truly Rhaegar's son. Tell me you think that temperamental, reckless, blood-thirsty fool was the Bard Prince's true son."
Ser Barristan kept his gaze on the fire, not taking up Robb's challenge. The king knew he couldn't. Barristan was many things, but he wasn't a liar. If faced with a situation where most would lie instead of telling the truth, he simply wouldn't say anything at all. His silence was his answer. He did not think the man Daenerys was supposed to marry was not her actual cousin.
Robb turned back towards the fire, grabbing a leg chair and tossing it on the pile. The flames licked hungrily at the rotten wood, slowly turning it black as the fire consumed it.
"This child is Rhaegar's, there's no doubt about it," Robb continued. "It was kept secret because they should not be subject to the failures of their parents."
"Why are you telling me this?" Ser Barristan asked finally.
"Because she will listen to you," Robb said, getting to his feet as he stared down at the knight. "I understand why Daenerys needs to know who it is. I understand why it is important. But you remind her that there's no turning back because her path will expose the child to all of Westeros. Wars have been started because of such secrets and she better damn well know that."
Ser Barristan looked up at Robb. "I'll let her know," he said evenly.
"You better," Robb grunted as he walked away.