Bryn walked around the table, nodding slightly to himself as he considered the blackened body. Euron Greyjoy's corpse had begun to decompose, much to Sam's shock and annoyance. The large maester had done his best to keep the body in the best condition possible so that the Green Man could see the body as Sam had. Artos had already made his opinion known to the large maester, but Sam was an academic and wanted a second opinion from another, more credible source.
"The clansman is right," Bryn grunted finally. "It's the work of magic alright."
"What kind?" Sam asked, glancing at the sheets of parchment and the inkwell on his desk.
"There are only two types that mankind knows about, Samwell Tarly. Good magic, such as the love of a mother or that which is contained within valyrian steel, and dark magic." he gestured to the body. "Magic like this is foul and centered around death."
"So was this the Others?"
Bryn shook his head. "The Drowned God―the twisted, death-loving creature―did this. Once a member of the Old Gods, he became obsessed with death and the power of the great darkness, the thing in which the Others came from."
Sam nodded and gestured for the man to go on. "So the Others was….are a parody of life."
"Well spotted," Bryn said. "Yes, the Others were a failed recreation of mankind, but it is their master whom we must focus on. It fought the Old Gods at the beginning of time, and the Old Gods won, but at the cost of one of their own. They cast out the Mad One, hoping that he would fade into nothingness in the depths of the sea."
"But he didn't, did he?" Sam said, feeling like he was remembering this story. "He brought his followers to him and made the Iron Islands."
Bryn raised an eyebrow. "Exactly."
Sam snapped his fingers and ran towards his desk, digging through the pile of books next to it before he finally found the one he wanted. He raised it and tossed it towards Bryn, who caught it and read the title aloud.
"Life of the Grey King: Roland Greyson."
"I have five books like that," Sam explained, stacking the other four on his desk. "Bran Stark, Lann Casterly, Garth Gardener, and Durran Durrandon."
"Bran the Builder, Lann the Clever, Garth Greenhand, and Durran Godsgrief," Bryn said, calling the men by the names the rest of Westeros knew them by. He began to leaf through the book in his hands. "I take it Roland wrote down the Drowned God's story."
"From what I read, it's more of a nightmare than a story," Sam answered. "He never once mentioned that the Drowned God could do such a thing."
"Cases like this have been few and far between, Samwell Tarly, and it certainly hasn't happened since before Aegon's Landing," Bryn explained. "Even the gods become aware of dragons."
"So the Drowned God knows how to make Others?" Sam asked. "Or, his own version of them."
Bryn scratched his beard. "He knows how to control men, but this is not an Other. This is….different. I wish I could explain it further, but until you see a White Walker for yourself, it's hard to paint the picture."
"What should we do with it?"
"Burn it," Bryn said immediately. "His ship is burned as well?"
"It was," Sam confirmed. "Lord Mallister is following the wreckage to make sure it wasn't salvaged. He used wildfyre to ensure that it was properly burned."
"Good," Bryn grunted. "The sooner we wipe out any existence of this kind of magic, the better."
"Where do you think Euron could have learned this sort of thing?" Sam asked curiously.
"Grand Maester!" a servant called, pounding on the door.
Sam jumped at the sound before rushing over to the door, throwing it open. The servant was red-faced and struggling to catch his breath, but he managed to spit out his message nonetheless.
"Lord Mallister wants you and the Green Man in the small council chambers."
Sam looked surprised, but quickly nodded and gestured for the green-cloaked man to follow. They weren't terribly far from the chamber room, but now Sam was curious as to what Lord Mallister found. He should have just returned from burning the Silence, Euron's ship.
"Lord Mallister?" Sam said, walking into the room.
The lord of Seaguard stood next to an armor stand, a giant smile across his face. A suit of armor made entirely of black scale had been fitted onto the stand. The scales were in the shape of sharpened teeth rather than fish scales like the men of House Tully wore, but other than that, there didn't seem to be anything amazing about the armor. Sam's father strode in a few moments after the maester, took one look at the armor, and grunted:
"Good craftsmanship."
That spoke volumes to Sam. There was no man who knew more about war, weapons, or armor than his father. If he was impressed by the quality of the armor, then it truly was very good.
When the council was almost assembled, there was one last surprise member. The queen followed Lord Tyrion in, the same curious look on her face that all the others wore. The council glanced at her before looking back at the armor. If she was in the room, that meant she was back with the council and that was more than fine with Sam and the others.
Lord Mallister finally presented his findings.
"It's valyrian steel," he said proudly. "It surfaced after Greyjoy's ship sank."
The silence in the room was deafening. Valryian steel was the ultimate rarity in Westeros. There was a joke among the noble families that not even Tywin Lannister could buy one after he had offered another noble family an enormous sum for their sword. Very few were known in Westeros, and almost as many had been missing. The Starks had Ice, Sam's father had Heartsbane, the Corbrays had one called Lady Forlorn, and now the commander of the Kingsguard wielded a sword that used to be in the possession of House Drumm called Red Rain. Then there were other valyrian steel weapons that were lost. The sword of House Lannister, Brightroar, was the most well-known of that group.
Never had any in the room seen or even heard about an entire suit of armor made from such a precious metal. Finally, the queen managed to say the only question on their minds.
"How on earth did Euron Greyjoy find it?"
Lord Mallister shook his head. "I know not, my lady, but his loss is our gain. This is a prize fit for our king, I believe."
"I'm not disagreeing, Jason, but we could make two, maybe three swords with this metal." Lord Royce said. "Imagine, four kingsguard with valyrian steel."
"My lords, I believe the queen should decide." Lord Tyrion said, looking at Queen Margaery.
The queen pursed her lips and tapped her fingers on the table before finally coming to a decision.
"Thank you, Lord Mallister, for your extraordinary gift," she said. "I will accept it on behalf of my husband. When he returns, I will bring up Lord Royce's suggestion to him. He will decide whether he shall don it in battle or have it melted down to make swords for his kingsguard."
Tyrion spread his hands. "There we have it," he said. "Now, since we're all here, Green Man, what do you have to say about the body?"
"Burn it," Bryn said with a wave of his hand. "It's corpse is nothing but the remains of black magic. The sooner it's destroyed, the better."
"I'll speak to the pyromancers." Lord Mallister grunted.
"Should we worry about other attacks?" Margaery asked.
Bryn shook his head. "What Euron found was ancient magic. I highly doubt it will be found again for some time."
The queen looked extremely relieved. "Thank you for your help."
"I am only here because of Jaime Lannister, my lady. I had found myself in a considerably tight spot when he arrived. He deserved much more thanks than I." Bryn said.
"And he will have it." the queen promised. "If you'll excuse me, my lords, my lady, I must take my leave."
"Of course." Lord Tyrion said as the woman left. The Hand looked at Bryn. "My brother already gave me a report of what happened. A message is being sent to both Lord Willas as well as Lord Dickon. We must stamp this out and make an example of them."
"Are their lives not enough?" Lady Anya asked.
Tyrion shook his head. "I plan on countering their 'martyrdom' with a heavy tax, my lady. Death is not enough. There must be a punishment on their lands. People will not follow a leader who will ruin them."
"Just know where the limit is, my lord." Lord Royce rumbled.
"Thank you, Lord Royce," Tyrion said, not seeming to notice the valeman's disapproving tone. "I would also like to inform everyone that Benjen Stark has reached Casterly Rock. Lord Edmure tells me that he plans to show his prize there before heading south into the Reach, then here. As you will soon all notice, lords of the Vale and Stormlands will be converging on the city. Have also sent letters to House Martell, asking them to join us here at the capitol."
"Why so quickly?" Sam asked.
"Timing is everything." Sam's father grunted from down the table. "The sooner information is passed, the better. Men must be rallied, harvest set aside, weapons and armor prepared, and routes scouted. Speed and efficiency win wars."
The large maester nodded to his father, bowing to his greater knowledge of the subject.
"My heir, Patrek, is already doing such." Lord Mallister said. "He's seen the wight and sent me a letter describing his actions and asking any council that I have."
"Enjoy this peace while it lasts." Tyrion counseled. "We'll be at war again and I can only pray that we all make it through."
Jon Stark
"If you have something to say, please speak, sers," Jon said, staring at the fire.
The small party of four had left Winterfell far behind and would arrive at White Harbor within a few days. A raven had already been sent ahead so that they could quickly board a ship and sail towards Dragonstone. There was no time to delay, according to Daenerys. Neither she nor Jon knew how the dragons would react to him. if they would react at all, and so speed was of the utmost importance. The shared thought had become: Get to the island, then see what happens from there.
It was their fifth night on the road, and it was once again Jon's turn to stay up and take watch. Only this time, Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan didn't go to bed as their mistress had. They stayed where they were, staring at Jon with obvious curiosity.
Tired of their stares, Jon decided to confront the matter head-on.
"There's…." Ser Barristan went to say before Jorah cut him off.
"How did you find out?"
"After Sam and I left the watch to join Robb in the Riverlands, we were stopped on the King's Road by Howland Reed," Jon said. "He brought us to Greywater Watch and explained what had happened at the Tower of Joy."
"Who else knows?" Ser Barristan asked.
"Most of my family. Robb, Arya, Lady Stark. Samwell and Lord Reed are the only ones who are not named 'Stark'." Jon answered. "Unfortunately, now there are three more who know."
"Since Lady Daenerys is back, you can now come out as Rhaegar's son." Ser Jorah said, clapping his hands together. "House Targaryen is back."
Jon glared at the northern knight. "When your birth caused thousands of deaths, ser, you can tell me who I can and cannot be."
"I believe what Ser Jorah is trying to say is that you can take on your father's name. Continue House Targaryen." Ser Barristan said, trying to diffuse the situation before it went further.
"I have a father, ser. His name is Ned Stark. I believe you know him well." Jon said, turning his glare on the older knight. "You fought him under the gate."
"You said we were free to speak our minds, lad." Ser Jorah snapped irritably. "That does not mean you can treat us like dogs! We are not your enemy!"
"Then why are you trying so hard to make me a Targaryen?" Jon challenged. "If I choose to acknowledge Rhaegar as my father, does that not make me the head of House Targaryen? How would your mistress feel about her two most trusted advisors undermining her."
"We're doing no such thing!" Jorah sputtered angrily.
"Jon, we just wish to see Lady Daenerys's house continue." Ser Barristan said calmly. "Would you not want to see the same for House Stark."
"Of course, because I'm from House Stark. House Targaryen means nothing to me." Jon said. "Forgive my bluntness, sers, but I was raised as a Stark of Winterfell, not a Targaryen of Dragonstone or King's Landing. Now you want me to throw all that away, throw my family away because House Targaryen grew arrogant and lost most of its members to foolishness and madness? I will do nothing of the sort."
"Then why are you here?" Ser Jorah asked. "Why accept her offer?"
"Because I believe that I can help more riding a dragon than swinging a sword." Jon sighed, shaking his head. "It seems Robb was right after all."
"Right about what, Jon?" Ser Barristan asked, leaning forward and resting his arms on his legs.
Jon scowled. He hated having that conversation with Robb. He had been curious about the dragons, any sane man would be if he knew that he had some sort of claim to them, but when he saw them in battle, attacking his brother's men, Jon wanted nothing to do with them. Yet there he was, watching them in the godswood, caught by Robb. In the end, Robb had been right. It was Jon's destiny to be a dragon rider.
"Before he held court for the first time, declaring the war over, Robb found me in the godswood watching the dragons," Jon explained. "He said that it should be my destiny to ride one. I vehemently disagreed and the matter was dropped. Yet more than a year later, here I am."
"Ser Jorah, why don't you go check on Lady Daenerys." Ser Barristan suggested. The northern knight looked confused but still did as he was told. When he was gone, the old knight turned back towards Jon.
"You remind me of Rhaegar."
"I've never kidnapped anyone." Jon shot back before he could help himself.
Ser Barristan didn't look phased by the insult. "You know as well as I that Lyanna went willingly. She was too strong, too fierce to be taken by Rhaegar. Besides, I knew there was something between them. I saw their bond at Harrenhal," the old man shook his head sadly. "If only anyone knew what would happen because of those fleeting glances."
"Ser Barristan, I hope I'm nothing like Rhaegar. He was a married man who took another's betrothed. Whether she was kidnapped or she went willingly, what he did was wrong and thousands died." Jon scowled. "To me, he's just as mad as his father."
"You judge him too harshly, Jon. Rhaegar was a good man, a loving man who thought he was doing what was best for the realm." Ser Barristan pressed. "He thought that….he thought that a great darkness was descending on the realm and he wanted to stop it. His intentions were pure."
"If you think rape is pure then you're as mad as he is!" Jon snarled.
"What's going on?" Daenerys asked, coming into the firelight, Ser Jorah right behind her. "Jon? Ser Barristan?"
Jon got to his feet. "Nothing," he answered. "Come, Ghost," he said, walking off into the night, the giant white wolf on his heels.
The former bastard trudged through the snow away from the fire, glaring at the darkness around him. Winter had settled for the moment as northerners rushed to bring in the last of their harvest and prepare for the worst. Northern lords, now knowing what was coming, were preparing as best they could for the Long Night as it would surely bring a winter worse than anything they've ever experienced.
Jon scowled and reflected on his last conversation with Arya.
Flashback
Jon sighed and leaned against the door, crossing his arms as his little sister glared at him. She was not happy that he was leaving with Daenerys, especially since he had just gotten back to Winterfell, but it was more than that. Jon knew that she, more than anyone besides possibly Robb, saw him as a true Stark. She's always seen him as her brother, and because he was leaving to go help House Targaryen instead of staying to help House Stark, she could see it as a betrayal.
"It's stupid!" Arya hissed. "She just wants you to help her instead of Robb."
"Arya, I'm helping the realm, not her," Jon said. "Someone needs to ride Rhaegal. Daenerys can't control both her dragons at the same time."
"She did it at King's Landing, didn't she?" Arya argued. "She just wants you to be a Targaryen, Jon, don't you see that!"
"I highly doubt it, Arya. She just found out who I was a few days ago." Jon countered. "I can save a lot of lives by doing this. Dragons can change the tide of this war."
"The Others were defeated without dragons too!"
"They were, but a lot of people died," Jon said, walking over and getting on his knee beside the girl. "Arya, I have a duty to protect my family. I could save Robb's, Father's, all of our lives by doing this. Don't you want me to protect our family?"
"Of course I do…." Arya said, but Jon quickly cut her off and continued.
"Family, Duty, Honor, Arya. Your uncle Edmure would expect me to do this. So would your grandfather Hoster." Jon said. "Winter is Coming, that is what we Starks say. A vicious winter is coming and it's bringing enemies that haven't been seen in thousands of years. Starks prepare for winter, we always have. For me, that means going to Dragonstone."
"Aren't you afraid?" Arya asked quietly, trying to keep back tears.
Jon nodded. "Of White Walkers? Of course."
Arya shook her head. "Of people knowing you're a Targaryen. As soon as they see you on the back of a dragon, everyone will know. You told me that people would try to kill you if they knew."
Jon nodded slowly. It was a fear he, Robb, and Father all shared. It's why they did their best to keep the secret to the least amount of people possible. Now, because he had accepted Daenerys' offer, he would be announcing what he was, who he was, to all of Westeros. Landing at the Wall on the back of a dragon, with the armies of Westeros around, makes things very clear.
It will also make a very ugly mess for Robb to clear up afterward. Especially with his wife.
"If giving up who I am is the price of duty, then I am willing to pay it," Jon said. "Besides, if anyone wants to come after me because Rhaegar's my father, then we'll meet at the gates with swords in our hands. Me and you."
Jon put a hand on Arya's head, trying to give her a reassuring smile. To her credit, Arya returned the smile.
"I am a Stark of Winterfell first and foremost. Things will change because of my actions, that's an unfortunate necessity, but that won't change things between us. I promise you." Jon said. "You're still my sister and I'm still your brother."
Arya nodded slightly. "Ok, Jon."
Jon stood up and kissed Arya gently on the top of her head as she threw her arms around him.
"Come back soon," she said quietly, her voice muffled by his shirt.
"I will," Jon promised. "I swear on the Old Gods I will."