Winterfell 302 AC
Arya Stark.
It looked the same, yet it felt different. The walls, the stairs… She could find her way to her destination with her eyes closed. She knew they were probably already looking for her, if they'd stop arguing long enough to notice her absence they'd probably find her, but she didn't care. Nobody would forbid her to enter her home and see her family.
She had needed to make a diversion to make the guards look away and get in quickly. It would do her no good to get caught and to have to justify herself. It would only be a waste of time and she had missed so much already.
The white Direwolf looked in her direction and she thought back to the moment she met Nymeria. She hoped her wolf was happy in the Riverlands, with her new pack, and that she could find solace joining back with hers in Winterfell.
The boy noticed Ghost watching her and looked her way. She was surprised to see him and he was more intrigued than scared by her presence.
"You used to be so small…" she said.
"Who are you?" Rickon asked.
"I heard that you were dead."
"You look like Jon."
"You haven't answered my question."
"You haven't asked any, but I did. Who the fuck are you and why did the guard let you through?" Rickon demanded.
Arya shook her head and the ghost of a smile flickered on her face as she walked to him.
"Still as thick-headed as I remember, little brother. Although you weren't swearing the last time I saw you, rather stuffing your face with Sansa's lemon cakes you'd stolen."
"A-Arya? Is that really you?" he said, his feet bringing him closer to her without realizing it.
She could feel his struggle, his want to hold her and his hesitation to let her in. She could feel it because she felt the same way. Part of her was anguished thinking about opening up and trusting people. She thought she had lost them all, those she loved and cared about, and so she closed herself to the world and for fear of suffering. To become no One, she had shed her past life and let go of most of her emotions until she realized that she couldn't forget, couldn't forgive until her vengeance was fulfilled and her list completed. Anger had been what kept her alive, what brought her back to Westeros, and she wasn't sure she was ready to feel something else.
Still, something inside her changed the moment her eyes locked with Rickon's. She read his disbelief, his mistrust, and a flicker of something that made her move to embrace him.
Hope.
He held her so tightly that she wondered why he would behave this way. The desperation she felt emanating from him made her shiver. Before she could question him, however, the door of his room opened and she immediately took a defensive stance.
"Rickon! One of the guards told me that…"
Arya's heart skipped a beat as Sansa stood in front of her, bewildered. She looked so much like their mother that it was difficult not to look away.
"Do I have to call you Lady Stark now?" she managed to say.
"You can call me as you wish! By the Gods! You're truly here!" Sansa whispered before rushing to her.
She would have probably done the same if Rickon's hand wasn't holding hers tightly and refusing to let her go.
"You shouldn't have run from the guards!" Sansa chastised her.
"I didn't run. You need better guards." she retorted.
"See, I told you, Rickon!" Sansa exclaimed, earning a roll of his eyes from their brother, which made Arya smile.
"It suits you, Lady Stark… You're watching over our King, now?"
"I try but he doesn't let me." Sansa replied sadly.
Rickon's hand tightened his hold on Arya's, making her frown. Was he scared of their sister? It didn't seem so, more that he was wary of her.
"Where is Jon?" she asked eagerly, thoughts of her brother one of the very few things that broke through the walls she'd put up within herself.
"At Dragonstone, treating with Daenerys Targaryen." Rickon said.
"I hope he comes back soon. I remember how happy he was to see me. When he sees you… His heart would probably stop." Sansa chuckled nervously.
Rickon shivered at these words and then Arya remembered what happened to him.
"They said that you were dead. Killed by Ramsay Bolton. And then you came back to life."
"Jon did it. He made the Red Witch bring me back." he replied.
"The Red Witch? Melisandre?" she asked.
"You know of her?"
"She's on my list."
"Your list?" Sansa looked at her curiously.
"Of people I'm going to kill."
"You cannot. You cannot kill her. Not yet." Rickon's voice was both panicked and determined at the same time and it made her wonder why he cared so much about a red witch.
"Why? Because she saved you?"
"And Jon. She brought him back too." Rickon stated while Sansa watched her in disbelief.
"Two times she has robbed the God of Death of his due, then." she said and her brother took a step back from her.
"Would you prefer us dead, you too?" Rickon asked and she could hear the pain in his words.
"Of course not! But I… Wait, what do you mean, 'you too'? Who told you they wish you were dead?"
"Bran." Rickon answered somberly.
"Bran?" Arya gasped. Bran was here? Her other brother lived?
"He didn't mean it like that, Rickon," Sansa protested.
"'You shouldn't be alive' is pretty telling to me." Rickon snapped back.
"Well, you shouldn't, but I'm glad you are," Arya replied casually.
"Thank you, I guess. At least you're being honest and straight to the point. I missed that." he said and she saw he was truthful.
"I'm sure Bran feels the same." she insisted.
"Bran feels nothing. That's the problem."
"Rickon!" Arya could feel that while Sansa had voiced a protest, it was a weak one, so she agreed with their brother.
"Meera warned us before she left. That thing living in our brother's body is not Bran anymore and after our last talk, I can't help but agree with that." Rickon said while shaking his head.
"He's our brother still!" Sansa replied.
"What he lived beyond the Wall has changed him, Sansa. We still have to see if this change is for the best."
"You're still mad at him for what he said to you and you cannot get past it."
"I am and I can't. Do you want to tell our dear sister what you said about me to see if I'm right not to get past it?" Rickon spat, making Sansa tense and Arya frown.
"What did she say? What happened?"
"Come, let's go to the Godswood. You'll see Bran for yourself and be the judge of his character. I'll tell you all about what you missed on the way." Rickon changed the subject and looking to Sansa she saw both regret and relief in her sister's eyes.
Rickon gave her no time to argue and grabbed her by the hand once more while Ghost pushed her from behind. She had to smile at the eagerness and the energy her little brother displayed and held out her other hand to Sansa, who looked at them longingly, making Arya think that her sister's relationship with Rickon was not a good one.
"Coming with us, Lady Stark?"
Sansa's smile was true and she resolved to get to the bottom of their family matter soon. For now, she had another brother to meet.
Winterfell 302 AC
The Three-Eyed Raven
Nothing was as it was supposed to be. Bran had looked over and over at the past and the future to find the reason why and the answer had put him on edge.
It all came down to Rickon Stark. To the brother who should not be here and not to the cousin who should.
He shouldn't have lived and why the Gods had allowed him to was beyond his comprehension. He understood that Jon had to be resurrected to fight in the Long Night, he and his dragon were important to halt and move forward the Night King's plans, but Rickon? Rickon was a thorn, a stain in Bran's book, the ink of which was supposed to be dry.
Jon was supposed to be King in the North, which would have created tensions with Sansa as she was trueborn and he wasn't a Stark. His attraction to his Targaryen aunt, his desire to prove himself to everyone along with his ridiculous sense of honor would have done the rest. The North would have been in a shambles by the end of the battle for the Dawn, with Jon being torn apart between his heritage and his loyalty to his family and to the Targaryen queen who would have lost so much that her sanity would hang by a thread. Then with just a little push, the ending to that tale he'd written would come to pass.
Now it seemed that he had to write the story anew.
Rickon being king changed a lot of things. Not that he cared about the politics of the North, but Sansa now wasn't getting the support she should have. It was as if the Lords of the North were under his brother's spell and he didn't like how things were going or what this may mean. Of course, it was better to have more men being prepared for the Long Night, but it also meant that more key players would appear at its end and he liked it not.
Thankfully, Jon not being king in the North didn't stop him from going to Dragonstone. Bran internally rejoiced to see that the Targaryens were bonding even quicker than before. Jon was still Jon at the end, so the outcome would be the same regarding him and when he would come to know the truth of his origins.
It frustrated Bran that he had to search for an answer to Rickon being alive to find out more of the truth about Jon. He knew he was Lyanna and Rhaegar's son making him a Targaryen, but the fact that they were married, which he saw because of his later probing in Winterfell, made him the heir to the Iron Throne. Would that fact change anything regarding his cousin's relationship with Daenerys? He didn't know, since Jon knowing about being the son of Rhaegar would make him stop any entanglement with his aunt anyway, but it still frustrated him greatly. Bran was only shown snippets of information from time to time regarding his cousin and it annoyed him, angered him even. Wasn't he the Three-Eyed Raven? Wasn't he supposed to be one of the most powerful beings in Westeros?
He had displayed his knowledge, scarcely, for anyone to see. First, to Sansa, he had talked about one of her most painful memories to get her to think about what else he could know. She was so desperate to have more family on her side that she didn't even question him saying that Rickon shouldn't be king. Unfortunately, his brother went and ruined the possibility to rectify his mistake by behaving like a petulant child.
He had since then talked to Littlefinger, who came into his room thinking he would get his favor.
"Do you enjoy the chair that I commissioned for you? It is more practical to travel, isn't it?"
"I do. Thank you, my lord."
"I have another thing for you. Here…" Littlefinger said, pulling the Valyrian dagger from under his coat. "This is for you. The last man who wielded it meant to cut your throat, but your mother fought him off. The other dagger, the one that took her life, I would have stopped that dagger with my own heart, if I could have."
He let Littlefinger speak, knowing full well that the man had been the one who had hired the cutthroat who meant to kill him and that he had known all about the Red Wedding. That man had hated the Starks ever since he had lost his duel to his namesake. He thought he was rising against all odds and that power was owed to him, but he had been a pawn, and still was, just like all the others. Nothing more than a pawn in a plan that was bigger than Littlefinger ever would be.
"I wasn't there for her when she needed me most. But I am here for her now. To do what she would have done. To protect her children. Anything I can do for you, Brandon, you need only ask." Littlfinger's disingenuous smile and words simply washed over him as he spoke.
The man wanted Sansa because she resembled their mother. Even without being the Three-Eyed Raven, he could see the disgusting twinkle in the worm's eye when he looked or thought about her. It would be what led to his downfall, but Bran could still use his ambitions to further his plans.
"Do you know who this belonged to?" Bran asked, catching the man by surprise.
"No. That very question was what started the War of the Five Kings. In a way, that dagger made you what you are today. Forced from your home, driven out to the wilds beyond the Wall."
Bran would have chuckled if he wasn't so keen on displaying a passive expression. That Littlefinger congratulated himself for who Bran was, for all of his and his family's sufferings right in front of him was beyond surreal.
"I imagine you've seen things most men wouldn't believe. To go through all of that and make your way home again, only to find such chaos in the world, I can only imagine…"
"Chaos is a ladder." Bran said, knowing he would shake the man enough to make him think about just what he knew. He could see the flow of questions going through his head.
Where did he hear that? Does he know something? What could he know? Do I need to get rid of him before he says something that would give me away? Does he have to go before or after Rickon?
Littlefinger was quick to excuse himself after that, and Bran had known that the message was clear. He had been surprised to receive another visitor so soon after he and then his other visitor had left though. Meera had just left his room after saying goodbye to him and he knew that they would never see each other again. When Rickon came in with Ghost, who looked warily at him. The Direwolf probably knew what he was capable of and it made him stay as far away as he could in the closed room.
"I was wondering how long you would take to come to see me."
"I hope I didn't make you wait too long." Rickon snorted.
"Meera told me you were hurt by what I said in the courtyard. That was not my intention."
"But you meant what you said, right? That I wasn't supposed to live."
Bran didn't know how to answer that. He didn't want to take the risk to anger his brother, as he couldn't see nor anticipate his outbursts.
"What did you see, brother? What did you see to make you fear me being alive?" Rickon asked angrily.
"I haven't seen you at all. Nowhere. Which means that what I thought could happen will not."
"And that scares you?"
"I've seen us survive the Long Night. I saw Jon leading our forces and being named King in the North."
"Do you want me to give him the Crown? Are you sure it would stop the Long Night?" Rickon asked hopefully.
"I do not know. I cannot see you. I cannot see anything because you're here where you shouldn't be."
"I've seen them too, you know? The Night King and the army of the dead. I've seen them before I came back before I heard Jon talking about them. I saw the Wall too. And I've seen you. Before I died. you were in a cave, under a heart tree and surrounded by giant roots." Rickon said and he felt the brief panic in his chest at his brother's words.
He always knew Rickon was special, ever since they had the same dreams and the same abilities when they were at Winterfell. Bran was older and had mastered them before Rickon did, which was why the Three-Eyed Raven kept his eyes on him rather than his brother. Bloodraven had been wroth to see Bran arriving alone and had made it clear that Rickon should have come also so that he could pass what he knew to the two last greenseers, so they could fight the Night King together when the time came.
"And I've seen you, and Osha, first at the Last Heart, then running away from your life. I am sorry it happened to you. I'm sorry you lost Shaggydog."
"And I'm sorry for Summer, Hodor, and Jojen."
Bran nodded once more and found himself locked in a staring contest with Rickon. They were studying each other and Rickon's steely eyes unnerved him greatly.
"You're trying to see if I have changed as much as Meera said."
"Did you get inside my head as you did with Hodor?"
"You would have felt it if I had tried. But no, I didn't and I swore to myself that I would never do that again."
"I know what you were capable of before meeting the Raven. Who knows what you can do now?" Rickon said not believing his words.
"Much more than I think, but I haven't mastered my powers yet. I am still struggling to understand them." Bran said truthfully.
"Will you teach me? Help me to understand my dreams?"
"No. I don't want you to become like me." he blurted out.
"Powerful?"
"Unfeeling." he lied. "You are king now, Rickon. You have a duty to your people and you cannot become like me."
"Is that why you didn't want the Crown?"
"I am the Three-Eyed raven. I cannot rule the North." he said simply, after all, it was the truth, just not the complete truth.
Rickon was still fixing him with that steel glare, his brother was still trying to get something out of him, something Bran was not ready to give.
"I'll let you rest, brother." his brother finally said, backing away.
"I've rested enough. I have to go to the Godswood."
"Want me to bring you there?"
"If you want."
The frustration grew stronger as he tried to focus on finding Rickon's future. Nothing appeared to him. He remembered the old path, the one leading him to fly over all of Westeros, but he couldn't see it anymore. There was nothing, not even the outcome of the battle of the Dead. Bran wondered if his emotions were preventing him from seeing things clearly or if it was really his brother's presence that messed with his powers.
He felt them arrive and bit back a smile. At least, some things didn't change.
"You came home. I saw you at the Crossroads."
"You saw me?" Arya repeated, frowning.
"I see quite a lot now."
"Bran has visions." Sansa said nervously.
"I thought you might go to King's Landing."
"So did I." Arya nodded.
"Why would you go back there?" Sansa asked, a little put out.
"Cersei's on her list of names." Bran answered, knowing the effect it would have on his sister.
"Who else is on your list?" Sansa asked as she started to realize that there was more to her sister's story than she thought.
"Most of them are dead already," Arya answered.
"Did you kill them?" Rickon intervened, to Bran's surprise.
"I did."
"Were they bad people who hurt you or our family?"
"They were."
"Good." Rickon said firmly.
"Rickon!" Sansa gasped.
"What? You gave Ramsay Bolton to his hounds because he was a fucking monster. You would judge Arya for doing the same?"
"No, but -"
"Who did you kill, Arya?" Rickon asked.
"Walder Frey, his sons, and grandsons."
"The Freys? You… All of them?" Sansa blubbered, obviously horrified, while Rickon grinned and Bran's annoyance grew.
Once again, it was not supposed to happen that way. Sansa wasn't supposed to learn of Arya's ability until much later, so Bran had to find a way to bring the conversation back to him. He grabbed the dagger and unsheathed it from its scabbard.
"Where did you get this?" Arya asked.
"Littlefinger gave it to me."
"Littlefinger? He's here?" Arya asked.
"Unfortunately, yes. Is he on your list?" Rickon questioned.
"Aye, he is."
"You cannot kill him." Sansa exclaimed. "He has declared for House Stark."
"First the Red Woman, now Baelish? What is it with you and trusting people who deserve to die?" Arya said looking at Sansa with an odd look on her face as she spoke the words.
"I don't trust Baelish. You can kill him for all I care," Rickon shrugged.
"You cannot kill him yet. He hasn't served his purpose," he said and felt his brother's inquisitive gaze on him. Did he say something he shouldn't have? He couldn't read Rickon's reaction and it frustrated him.
"Why would he give you a dagger?" Sansa finally asked.
"He thought I'd want it."
"Why?"
"Because it was meant to kill me."
"The cutthroat. After your fall?" she whispered and he nodded.
"Why would a cutthroat have a Valyrian steel dagger?" Arya said.
"Someone very wealthy wanted me dead."
"You know who it is, don't you?" Rickon probed and his gaze boring into him almost made him lose his cool.
"Does it matter?" he asked through clenched teeth.
"Of course it does!" Arya exclaimed. "If that person isn't already dead, they could try it again."
"Well, we just have to wait and see…" he said before Sansa interrupted.
"Littlefinger is not a generous man. He wouldn't give you anything unless he thought he was getting something back." Sansa declared.
"Oh, that's a new one! So tell me, Sansa, what does he get back from you since it's you he helps?" Rickon's question made Bran's mind foggy, meaning that something was once again changing from its original path.
"That's not the matter at hand, Rickon." Sansa tried to change the subject, only to be countered by their other sister.
"I too would like to know, sister…"
"It doesn't matter." Bran finally exclaimed as his aching head made it difficult to keep his composure. He internally cursed Rickon for being noisy and derailing the course of what was to come.
"What do you mean, it doesn't matter?" Sansa frowned.
"I don't want the dagger," he said, handing it to the Faceless Assassin he knew would use it to its best extent.
"Are you sure? It's Valyrian steel." Arya insisted.
"It's wasted on a cripple."
He watched with satisfaction as she moved to accept his gift and felt a weight go off his head. Finally, things were occurring as they should.
"Now that you're here, sister, maybe you will be able to help me convince Sansa that she should learn to protect herself. She needs to learn to fight and she doesn't want to." Rickon said, smirking.
"Rickon, we've talked about it already. I'm not the kind of Lady who uses a sword or a mace, I'm not like Lady Mormont." Sansa sighed loudly.
"Maybe not a sword, but you might feel comfortable with something else. I don't like you much right now but I don't want you to die because you're not prepared for the fight to come." Rickon said.
"You mean the one you told me about? Against the dead?" Arya asked.
"Aye. Ask Bran if you don't believe me. He has seen them too."
"I have. They are real and they are coming for us all." Bran nodded warily, feeling that his brother was up to something that he would not like by its end.
"In that case… Training starts tomorrow." Arya said.
"What?' Sansa startled, as did Bran.
"Rickon is right, you need to get ready. I will train you myself. With this."
To his utter shock, Arya took Sansa's hand and put the Valyrian dagger in it. A flow of images hit Bran's mind like a wall of stone and he struggled to keep his eyes open.
What was happening to him? What was happening to his plans? What did he need to do to bring them back to where they were supposed to be?.
The Battle of the Ocean Road 302 AC.
Dany.
The first time she'd flown over the men who marched down the Ocean Road had been simply to see them for himself, to see if they truly were marching on Highgarden as Jon Snow suspected. She had to admit feeling somewhat relieved when she did see them, the idea that he had lied to her and that this was some game she knew not he was playing, was one she very much wished to just be a silly one. Truth be told, she wanted so much to believe him, to be actually able to believe the words that he spoke, and to not have to look at him the same way she had looked at most men that she met.
Unlike most of them, Jon Snow didn't seem to want what they wanted, or if he did he hid it well. He sought her aid and was upfront about it, telling her what it was he wished and making her no false promises that were she to help him it would lead to something it would not. She believed he was attracted to her, but unlike others who had wished to share her bed, she actually felt it wasn't for the reasons that most men were attracted to her. Their talks had shown an interest that she believed couldn't be feigned, an interest in her as much as in the Dragon Queen that she at times was forced to be. It mirrored her own interest in him as she knew she was attracted to him despite who he was, or was that because of who he was? She couldn't be sure, only that she wished him to share her bed as much as she believed he wished it too.
To find out he had lied, that this was all some game to him, that would have ended any interest she had in him. So to see the army as it marched from the West and the other one as it marched from the east had been a great relief to her. Now she needed to deal with them both, one in a much different way than the other. Knowing that Randyll Tarly and Jaime Lannister marched with the other army allowed for her to have two different battle plans. The first of them was just about to be initiated and she gripped the horn on Drogon's neck a little more firmly and steadied herself as the army came into view once more.
"Dracarys." she said as Drogon unleashed a wave of flames that bathed the first line of the marching army in fire.
"Dracarys" she said once more as Drogon turned and hit the marching men from behind.
Ahead of her both Rhaegal and Viserion did as their brother did, their flames enveloping all those who were unlucky to be in their path. Within three passes it was done and beneath her, it looked like an image from the Seven Hells. Men and horses burned, carts were reduced to ash, and the army that had looked so resplendent in its red armor now looked anything but. Those who could ride had ridden far from here and sought cover wherever they could. The lucky few that had been caught full-on by her children's flames had simply burned to ash and she felt some sympathy for those who had not been so lucky.
Despite what they had come to do and the carnage they'd have caused, they were simply men following orders and they had no idea what it was they would face this day. She took no pleasure in their deaths or their suffering other than the small voice in her head which said that these were the same men who'd sacked King's Landing all those years earlier. That some of these men had committed terrible acts in their lives, all while following the Lannisters and even if they were not directly responsible for the deaths of her niece, nephew, and goodsister, they were responsible for the deaths of countless other family members.
With a last look to make sure that they had indeed dispersed and with one more flight over the largest group that were unhurt to make it clear what they would face were they to march anywhere but back north, Dany then bid her children fly east and readied to deal with the second larger and more important army. Soon enough she was flying over Highgarden again and though she knew there was no way the army could have beaten her to the keep, she still took a relieved breath when she saw that they had not. She felt it even more keenly as she flew over the Roseroad and worked out the distance the army was from Highgarden. They would never be able to make it to the keep nor to take it for their own and both she and Lady Olenna had Jon Snow to thank for that.
The Battle of the Roseroad 302 AC.
Jaime Lannister.
Turning Randyll Tarly had been easier than he had expected, Jaime was not sure even his words would have been enough, and yet with promises of rewards to come and mentions of Dothraki, they had been. Cersei had wished to have the man killed, him and so many of the other Reach Lords, and Jaime sighed at the memory of his sister's words.
" We cannot trust them, not with the Dragonbitch here."
" We cannot go around killing Lords just because we don't trust them, if we do there'll be none left.
" None but us, my love." she said, looking at him seductively.
" And what of Euron Greyjoy?" he asked jealously.
" A means to an end and not a lion like you."
" I'll deal with the Lords of the Reach and should I fear their loyalty, then and only then will I take their heads."
" My love, my other half."
All talk was done after that, all arguments finished when he felt her lips touch his own and her hand reached down to his britches to squeeze his hardening cock. He truly was a fool for her, even now all these years later it was still her that guided his actions and was his reason for all of them. After they'd worn each other out, he'd gone to Tarly once more to see if his offer had been accepted, finding to his and Cersei's delight that it had. Olenna had gone too far in allying herself with savages, Tarly had said, and after he'd told Cersei that, he knew the rest of the realm was soon to be told the same thing. Daenerys Targaryen had brought savages to Westeros and the Realm needed to join together or they'd be free to rape and pillage to their heart's content.
Then he had made his plans, plans based on little more than knowing that Tyrion was serving by Daenerys Targaryen's side. Had he not been, then Jaime was certain that with Olenna and Prince Oberyn's paramour advising her it would be to King's Landing that she and her armies along with her dragon would march. With Tyrion in a position of influence, it would be a different plan that was put in place. His little brother thought himself so very clever and in a lot of ways he was, but not in the ways of war. Jaime had looked at the map and he'd seen it straight away and even had he not, they still needed all that the Reach could offer.
Knowing though that his brother would seek the one thing he wished for all his life, did make him feel more relaxed about his plans and despite the argument with Cersei over them, it was his plans that were put into effect. Ravens were sent, orders were given and armies readied. Tarly had proved on the march already just why he was so formidable a foe and so desirable an ally. The man had a gift for making men march fast and true and they covered the distance between King's Landing and Bitterbirdge in half the time it would normally take. Now just mere days away from Highgarden itself he felt his excitement rise. The thoughts of what Tyrion would look like when he found his ships had been burned and his army cut adrift at a keep with no supplies, quickly bringing a smile to his face.
"Thinking of her golden cunt or his stunted little cock?" Bronn asked from beside him, as irreverent and annoying as ever.
"That's our queen you speak of." he said though with no great anger.
"Whose cunt is golden is it not?" Bronn said as he shrugged.
"I was thinking of Tyrion's face and the expression on it when he realized he's fucked up." Jaime said feeling no need to lie.
"The little fucker will be pissed no doubt. You think the Dragon Queen will take his cock? Turn him into one of those cockless soldiers of hers?" Bronn asked and Jaime wasn't sure if he was japing or not.
"I care not." he said to a loud laugh from the man beside him.
"You really hate the little sod don't you."
He gave no reply, hate wasn't the right word for how he felt about Tyrion. Were it not for the love he'd felt for him then their father would live still. Myrcella would live still. For Jaime was in no doubt that the Martell's would never have dared to kill his daughter were his father still breathing. Tommen too would be alive still, for Cersei would never have been able to do what she did with the Great Sept and she'd have no need to. His father would have seen to the High Sparrow long before the man ever dared shame his sister or try to become as powerful as he had. No, hate wasn't the right word for how he felt about Tyrion, it was not even close.
"How far to Highgarden he asked, needing to take his thoughts far from where they were heading.
"I know not, five days, three. Ask this dour cunt." Bronn said and he looked to see Randyll Tarly ride towards him, the Lord riding alone for once and he was glad of it, Bronn's japes at his son's expense were wearing thin and he feared Tarly would take them no longer.
"Ser Jaime." Randyll said not even looking to Bronn who wore a smirk on his face and seemed ready to say something, only for the shake of his head to stop him.
"Lord Tarly." he said with a small polite bow of his head "How fares the men, my lord?"
"Good, Ser Jaime. They've kept the pace I've set and we should be at the gates of Highgarden within two days."
"They'll have heard of our march by now, so what should we expect?" he asked as they rode together.
"The Tyrell's were always lax. Mace was a fool and Olenna cared more for words than men. There'll be no more than a thousand or two in the keep itself. They may be able to bring another thousand or more to them before we reach them. Most of them are weak and green, but there are men like Ser Vortimer Crane the Master of Arms, and some of the Household knights who may prove more resolute. None will truly be a….."
Where the fire had come from he knew not, or at least at first he knew not. Behind him men burned, wagons caught fire and then he heard the roars.
"Those are fucking dragons." Bronn shouted out and yet all Jaime could see was the silver-haired figure on the back of the large black one and all he could hear was one voice, a voice that sent a shiver down his spine and one he'd hoped never to hear again.
" Burn Them All." Aerys shouted out over and over again.
Dany.
Just as with the army that marched on the Ocean Road, she'd caught this army completely unawares. In the first fly over all three of the dragons had released their flames as one and the result was no different here than it had been there. Beneath her men burned and cried out in pain and Dany once again turned Drogon around to have him and his brothers let loose their flames again. Some things proved different though, some things were not the same as they'd been in the earlier battle. These men seemed more organized, quicker to understand what was going on and as she looked at them she knew this would be a different fight than the one she had already faced that day. She'd known it, of course, her goals here were far different than they had been there, however she'd not thought that the men she'd faced would act differently.
They didn't panic, few ran and she felt the arrows whistle beneath her which gave her some pause. It did not give Viserion and Rhaegal any. These men had dared to fire at their mother and her children showed their anger and what doing so reaped. The archers were soon ablaze and Dany then bid Drogon make another pass. They flew low as she looked for her targets, the last thing she wished was for Jaime Lannister or Randyll Tarly to be caught up in the firestorm that her children were unleashing upon their men. Prisoners, Jon Snow had said, prisoners would help her win this war and she knew which prisoners she wished for.
"Dracarys." she said when she saw a group of men that were forming up and in an instant, the men were no more.
"Dracarys." she said a moment later when she saw them ready to move away and then as one all three dragons flew and it was not the men that were to be the target of their flames.
They flew in a circle almost, the three dragons laying down wave upon wave of fire as they forced the men to form up inside and left them nowhere to run. He was down there, the man who'd killed her father, he was down there somewhere and he would not leave here this day. Nor would the man who'd betrayed his liege lady and broken faith with not just Lady Oleanna's house but her own. Unlike with Jon Snow, there was no reason for Randyll Tarly not to renew the oaths he'd sworn to her family and unlike with Jon Snow, she'd not forgive him for doing so.
She heard a high-pitched whine come from Rhaegal and felt her heart still in her chest. Her eyes were drawn to her son as she looked to see if he'd been hurt. Then she saw him dive and bathe a cart in flames and she found herself wondering why he'd picked that one and why he'd flown over men to do so. When she heard the whine once more she found herself seeking out more carts and looking on as Rhaegal bathed another in his flames. Dany bidding Drogon and Viserion do what their brother was, though she knew not why that was.
The answer soon came and she felt rather than saw the bolt as it flew her way. With a shout to Drogon to move out its way, Dany looked at it as it flew past them both. Though she didn't get a great view of it, she knew it could hurt her son and so she bid him be wary and looked to see where it was coming from. It took her some time to find it and once she did, she bid Drogon destroy it and the man who had dared to fire at him. Her son was only too eager to do as she wished and she leaned down low against his scales as he dived towards the wagon. When she knew he'd been hit she'd not be able to say for sure later. What she did know was that her son was in pain and she knew this long before he cried out.
She felt them as they fell, her hands almost slipping from the horn she gripped and at times she felt as if she'd fall from his back. Her brave son felt her worry for him and added to his own concern for her, he fought through the pain and righted himself. Dany, looking to see the man who'd fired upon them was readying to do so again and she didn't even need to tell Drogon to let loose his flames. The cart didn't burn, it exploded and once it had, Dany looked around for a safe place for them to land and found none.
"Drōgon istin, istin dohaeragon ao."(Drogon I must, I must help you) she said when he refused to land and it was only when she repeated the words that he did so.
Once he was on the ground she climbed down off his back and moved to see the thing he'd been hit with. It looked like a large spear, its shaft was made from wood and its tip was embedded in Drogon's shoulder. She pulled at it to try and release it and found she could not and then for some reason she turned around and saw him riding towards her. Dany knew who it was, the white horse and the golden armor marking him out for being Ser Jaime Lannister. He was who she wished to take prisoner, the most valuable of all those here she could do so and she knew what she was supposed to do. He had hurt her son though, he had caused her son pain and so it was that and only that which influenced her decision. Not who he was, not what he'd done to her father, not even the lance he carried in his hand that was no doubt to be used to take her life. Jaime Lannister had hurt her son and that was something he needed to pay for.
"Dracarys." she said when he was close enough for Drogon's flames to reach him and from where she knew there would be no escape.
Bronn.
Dragons, fucking dragons, he was not getting paid enough for this, not the largest keep in Westeros would be enough to compensate for having to face dragons. Where they'd come from he had no idea, nor how they'd even known they'd be here. He may not like the one-handed cunt but he did give him credit for his plan. Tyrion would have sent them to Casterly Rock and so the only thing they had to deal with in the Reach was some wilted flowers and he could take those fuckers on his own. How wrong he'd been.
Even knowing about them didn't prepare you for what they could do. Had he seen one of them on the ground before now he'd still not have thought them as capable as they were. Seeing them in the sky, watching as they laid down wave upon wave of fiery death, that was something that almost made him shit himself. His first instinct had been to flee, to ride far from here, get drunk and find a woman to fuck. Even an ugly one would have done, seven hells even his hand would have done. Anything had to be better than staying here and facing off against dragons.
He knew he could not, the fool who was the key to his future would not leave the men and so it was to the scorpions that he went. It was not an easy journey to reach them as all around him the dragons let loose their flames and for some reason, they were targeting the carts that carried the scorpions. One of the men must have fired a bolt too early or been seen moving to the cart, at least that was what he hoped had happened. The idea that these things were smart enough to tell the difference between a cart carrying supplies and one carrying the scorpions sent a chill down his spine and made him look to the sky more than once.
When he reached the cart he breathed a relieved sigh and hurried to make it ready to fire. It was only as he was doing so that he realized just how incredibly dumb an idea this was. Even was he lucky to take down one dragon, what was he to do with the other two? How would they react to losing one of their own? This was not truly the time for such thoughts or doubts and besides if he took down the one the Dragon Queen was on he could perhaps end this war once and for all. Surely that was enough for Highgarden, he thought with a wry smile.
"Lucky cunt." he shouted to no one in particular as he watched the dragon move out of the way from the bolt "Let's see if your luck holds" he said while praying that his own did.
He reloaded as quickly as he could, something which unsurprisingly didn't take him as long as it may have some else, Bronn's instincts for survival playing their part in that no doubt. Lining up the shot he took a deep breath and waited for the dragon to be in sight.
"Come on you fucker." he said as the bolt flew and he heard the sound of the dragon as it cried out in pain and then the roars of two more dragons as they stopped whatever it was they'd been doing and flew to the source of that sound.
Moving as quickly as he could once more, he had the bolt in his hands when he realized he'd not make it. He saw the flames build up in the dragon's mouth and then jumped as far as he could as those flames landed just where he'd been a moment earlier and the cart he'd been standing on simply exploded rather than was set alight. The impact almost knocked him unconscious, again his instincts kicked in and he soon found himself on a horse and shaking his head from side to side to stop the ringing in his ears.
Looking around to see where Jaime Lannister was, the shaking of his head became even more pronounced. He'd seen some dumb and foolish things in his life, none came even close to what he saw now though. The stupid fucker must think he's in the jousting ring he thought to himself as he watched the white horse race towards the Dragon Queen and her dragon. Briefly, he thought about riding to his aid, the thoughts of his keep and what he was owed filling his mind. They were only to do so briefly as he saw the other two dragons move towards the white horse with the green one certain to reach him before the gold.
When he saw the flames build up in the black dragon's mouth, he found he couldn't look away. Fascination, interest, disgust, or curiosity, something made him wish to see what happened next and so he watched. The flames never came and had they then they'd not have hit Jaime Lannister anyway. Bronn watched on in disbelief as the green dragon bushed its head against the white horse and it and its rider went flying across the ground. Again briefly he thought about riding to the fallen man, he could grab him and ride from here and still earn his prize. No one was to kill the fucker unless it was him, after all. Seeing the green dragon land beside the dead white horse and the unmoving Jaime Lannister, that was enough to put paid to those brief thoughts and so he rode away while he could.
The hill he picked to look down at the carnage below him was perfect. He could see it all if not truly make it out. Looking to the men on horses who'd arrived it was clear they were from Highgarden though one or two looked anything but. All of them made their way to the Dragon Queen and he watched as she then addressed those who'd been lucky enough to survive the Dragon's Wroth. Then he looked on as two men that he believed to be the Tarly's and one that was certainly an unconscious or dead Jaime Lannister were tied to the green dragon's back and as the Dragon Queen and the men he now believed to be Dothraki climbed onto the black dragon and were soon heading south.
"There goes any fucking chance I have of a castle now." he said angrily as he mounted his horse and rode away to where he knew not.
Dragonstone 302 AC.
Jon Snow.
Seeing a broken Theon Greyjoy did at least give him something else to concentrate on other than the looks he was getting from various people and the work he was doing in the caves. It allowed him to think of other things than a green dragon that was no longer here and the mother of said green dragon. Though it did stir up feelings that he somehow managed to hold back on, for now. His anger and hatred of the man in front of him was more subdued as he heard how broken he truly was.
"All of them?" Tyrion asked as Theon seemed to have drifted off into silence.
"What?"
"Euron he killed all the Sand Snakes and Lady Ellaria?"
"I don't know, I don't believe so." Theon said before adding "He took Yara prisoner."
"Then at least she lives still." Olenna said and Jon looked to the older woman to see that like him, she was thinking of those who did not.
"How could he have known?" Varys said and Jon found his eyes drawn to Tyrion, the dwarf's eyes on him, the plan had been a dumb one, easy to predict, something that Missandei pointed out.
"As Lord Snow said during the War Council, this was a foolish plan and Euron simply laid in wait for our ships to sail. We must do better next time our queen expects it of us." Missandei said, offering Jon a warm smile while frowning at Tyrion somewhat.
"We all know what Lord Snow said." Tyrion said snippily without looking at him and Jon just shook his head.
"Regardless of what exactly happened with the Ironborn fleet, the matter at hand is that Lord Greyjoy's sister and perhaps Lady Ellaria are now prisoners of your own." Olenna said, looking to Tyrion.
"If Cersei has Lady Ellaria and any of the Sand Snakes then they're as good as dead." Tyrion said and Jon decided to speak up when he saw Theon's shoulders slump.
"We may soon have prisoners of our own, should they be valuable enough even Cersei would seek to trade."
"There is no one my sister would trade Ellaria for, no one other than…" Tyrion said glaring at him while Jon looked at Olenna who wore a smirk.
"It matters not, not until her grace returns." Lord Varys said and with that, the meeting was over with.
As he moved to the door and readied to go back to his day in the caves, it seemed more than one person wished to speak to him. Missandei looked at him curiously as did Lady Olenna though both obviously thought the better of it for now. Theon however did not, the way he looked at him discomforted Jon so much that he walked away from him and it was only when he reached the throne room that Theon caught up with him.
"Jon, can we speak?" Theon said and his voice sounded like that of a much older man.
"I may sympathize with you over your sister, Theon, but we've naught to say to each other."
"Please Jon." Theon pleaded.
"Why? Why did you do it? I know you and I cared not for each other but both of us loved Robb, gods he thought you as much a brother as he did me." Jon said his hands brushing through his hair.
"I.."
"Was my father so terrible to you, my brothers and sister so terrible to you?" he asked angrily.
"They were never…"
"What? Never your family? Never your blood? Say so if you dare, speak those words aloud to me and I'll name you a liar and damn you for the kinslayer you truly are. For Robb was more your blood than your sister or father ever were and you betrayed him."
"I was torn, both sides of me. I was a Greyjoy, not a Stark but I wanted to be one, Jon, I wanted to be one more than anything… I… Robb… Sansa,… You…"
"Then you should have been both." he said, moving away from Theon.
"Can you… can you forgive me for what I did?" Theon asked and Jon glared at him seeing him shrink away and while a part of him said he should offer him some comfort another part told him that he could not.
"I could say the words and make you feel better, but they'd be lies and I'll not lie to you. I don't have it in my heart to forgive you, Theon, but then again what matters it if I did? Sansa forgives you and I'm grateful for what you did for her. We were never friends, Theon, we were never brothers and we'll never be either. Your actions haven't lost you anything with me, so take as much comfort from that as you can." he said his words coming straight from his heart and they were the best he could offer him.
"He took Yara. I tried to… I wasn't strong enough." Theon said and Jon nodded.
"Then be better next time, that's all any of us can do. Be better tomorrow than you were today." he said before walking away.
Later that day he ate his lunch and sat with Melisandre as he did so, the red priestess eating her own while watching him do the same.
"You worry for her, my prince. For both of them. You should not, for the queen and her dragons shall return." Meisadnre said and he looked at her curiously.
"You saw this in the fires?" he asked and she shook her head.
"Some things don't need to be told to me by my god, my prince. The first ship is nearly ready, will you send for more?" she asked changing the subject.
"Aye. We need as much as we can get. We need the queen's help, her dragons and her armies too."
"She has promised them to you, has she not?" Melisandre asked and he shook his head.
"Only that my help would not be forgotten."
"Then that will have to suffice for now, my prince."
By the time the day ended he was exhausted, the bath he took was refreshing and it was only that he was starved or he'd have taken to his bed early. He perhaps should have as the evening meal was a strained one. Theon barely ate, Varys looked preoccupied and Tyrion drank and made barbs at his expense. None of which he rose to and instead he allowed Melisandre to speak on his behalf. The red priestess would accept no slight given to him or no barb aimed in the direction of her prince and while he disliked being named so, for now at this moment he found it useful.
When the meal was done and he was ready for his bed, he was surprised by firstly Lady Olenna asking him to break his fast with her on the morrow and then Missandei asking her if he would walk with her. Though he wished for nothing more than to sleep, he found the look on her face to be one that caused him to become concerned and so it was out from the keep and into the cold night's sky that he soon found himself walking. The cold air felt welcoming to him and his eyes were drawn to the sky where he looked disappointedly when he remembered that the dragons were far from here and that Rhaegal was by his mother's side. That he had simply accepted that the queen was the dragon's mother was something he gave little thought to, she'd been named as such by the woman beside her, and who was he to argue after seeing her mount the largest of them.
"You're thinking of my queen." Missandei said and he looked at her before shaking his head.
"I'm just thinking." he said and thought not why he was lying.
"Do you worry for her as I do?" Missandei asked softly and he shook his head more firmly this time.
"I have no fear or doubt that the queen will return." he said and the smile that appeared on Misandei's face was a large one.
"I am relieved to hear so."
"Do you have a smith here, my lady?" he asked and Missandei looked at him searchingly "It struck me after her grace left that she wears no armor. Perhaps were she to do so it would stop some of your own worries." he said and was rewarded with another beaming smile.
"You could design such? Were I to have it made, you could design such?" she asked eagerly.
"I'd not know her grace's size, but aye, I can design something that would be practical but not confining." he said and Missandei reached out to touch his hand.
"I thank you, Lord Snow, I shall rest easier this night because of your words." she said, smiling ever more brightly.
"I'm glad to be of help, my lady."
"Missandei." she said softly.
"Only if you call me, Jon, my lady." he said and received an eager nod in return.
"Goodnight Jon." Missandei said before turning to head back into the keep, Jon following behind her and then saying his own goodnight as he turned for his room.
He sat down at the small table in the room he'd been given and began to draw out some different armor designs on the parchment he'd used to both write to Rickon and to keep a sum of all the Dragonglass that they'd mined. Finally, he ended the night by deciding the one that worked best and by then writing another letter to his brother to tell him that he was almost done here and should be heading home soon. Then he headed to his bed and fell to sleep to dreams of silver hair and violet eyes and of a green dragon flying in the sky.
When he woke the next morning and after he'd washed and dressed he made his way to break his fast with Lady Olenna. He stopped on the way to speak to Missandei and to hand her the design he'd made for the queen's armor and the letter he'd written for Rickon. They'd not stopped him from sending his brother messages as long as he allowed them to read them first and while he hated them seeing what he wrote, he understood their reasons for it. For him, it was more about speaking to his brother and letting him know he was well and to find out he was the same, but from their perspective, he could be sending information that was detrimental to their queen and so he accepted the compromise.
"I'm to sup with Lady Olenna." he said to the giant guards who stood at her door, both men as tall as Hodor or Small Paul had been.
"Our lady awaits." one of the giant guards said and Jon nodded before entering the room.
Olenna sat by a small table, one large enough for three or four people to eat at and no more which surprised Jon as he expected for some reason that their breaking of their fast would be far less intimate. With a bow of his head and a nod of her own, he was bid to take a seat and as soon as he did some food was brought by a servant and laid in front of him. The lady herself ate little but Jon's appetite was true and polite as he tried to be, he ate the food hungrily.
"I wished to thank you, Lord Snow." Olenna said after being quiet for some time while he ate.
"Thank me, my lady?" he asked unsure why that would be so.
"Were it not for the words you spoke then I may have ended up as the ladies Ellaria and Yara have and believe me if I was to fall into Cersei's hands then my fate would not be a pleasant one." Olenna said with a sad smile on her face as she thought of something he knew not.
"I simply suggested, it was yourself and her grace who decided your course of action, my lady."
"Which would have been the course that Lord Tyrion set out for us was it not for your suggestion, Lord Snow."
"It was a foolish plan, my lady." he said and she nodded slightly.
"You ought to be more careful with your words, Lord Snow. I've dealt with many men in powerful positions in my life and they all have two things in common. They need to guard their position against any who threaten it and they never forgive those who do." Olenna said and Jon looked at her and shook his head.
"Lord Tyrion has nothing to fear from me about his position, my lady."
"Does he not?" she said, raising an eyebrow "Tyrion Lannister is a smart and clever man, and yet like all smart and clever men he's a fool and has an ego. You've shown him up as to the former and have damaged the latter in the process, tread carefully Lord Snow, for that man likes you not and has no compunction when it comes to killing those he dislikes, even if they're kin." Olenna said and Jon took the warning to heart.
"I thank you for the warning." he said and she chuckled.
"The warning is not free, Lord Snow. Consider it payment for a debt owed. Now to why I truly asked you here. Cersei Lannister, what you said about her and how this war only ends with her death. Unsurprisingly I agree completely with you on that and so I believe in seeing this done we are allies." Olenna said her eyes boring deeply into his own and Jon reached for the mug of water while he thought about his answer.
"I wish her dead, my lady, that's true. I know that while she lives she poses a danger to my brother and my sister."
"But not you?" she asked curiously.
"I'm well able to protect myself, my lady, and my family too. So aye, in seeing Cersei Lannister dead you could name us allies." he said and she nodded.
"Then I would ask you to consider how best we can see that done, Lord Snow. For both our families."
He thought that would be the end of the meal, that the points Lady Olenna had wished to make had been made. Yet it seemed the lady wished to speak more to him and he found himself talking about Sansa and Rickon, about his father and Lady Stark, and about Robb, Bran, and Arya too. The lady herself wasn't quiet as she spoke of her grandson and most especially her granddaughter, Jon blushing a little when she said it was a pity that she'd not married a fine man such as he instead of two Lannister kings.
Yet it was at the end of their talk and when he got up to walk to the door, that she asked the one question which stuck with him for the rest of the morning.
"Who was your mother, Lord Snow? Did your father ever tell you her name?" Olenna asked and Jon stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her.
"No, my lady, he did not." Jon said more angrily than he wished to, his father's last words to him ringing in his head.
" The Next time we see each other, we'll talk about your mother, hmmm. I promise"
"I'd put her down as Ashara Dayne, you have some of her look about you. But I'd not name her so now that I've met you. I wonder why he didn't tell you, Lord Snow, for what reason he kept it from you?" Olenna said and while for the briefest moment he concentrated only on the name as it was one he'd heard before, only to then think on the other words the lady had said, words again he'd considered many times over the years.
"Unfortunately we can't ask him, my lady, more's the pity." he said moving to the door.
"She'd have been proud of you whoever she was, Lord Snow. Take whatever comfort you can in that and in knowing that you've made a friend and ally out of an old lady whose time is not yet done."
"I thank you, my lady." he said truthfully as he left the room and then the keep, soon finding himself walking alone on the beach and heading to the cave.
It was as he was eating his luncheon that Tyrion came his way, the beginnings of an argument between them just about to start when he felt him in his head and Jon turned to the sky to see the green, gold and black dragons. He saw what looked like shapes tied to Rhaegal's back and then he saw her sitting on the black dragon, she looked safe and unhurt and he offered a prayer of thanks to the Old Gods and another even truer one to the Green Dragon who he believed had played his part too.
Dragonstone 302 AC.
Tyrion.
The man was insufferable, annoying him greatly at every turn and he wondered what it was he had seen in him all those years ago. Was he able he'd have seen him flogged or worse for daring to call out his well-thought-out plans in such a manner. That his words were even being considered only made him dislike the man even more. No, dislike was not the right word, or perhaps it had been right up until news of the Greyjoy fleet being attacked had reached them. After that, it was definitely hate that he felt in his heart for Jon Snow.
All that he'd done, all that he accomplished, all that he would ever be in a position to do was based on his being the smartest person in the room. He was the Imp, the Demon Monkey, the best player of the game, and the smartest man in Westeros. Without that, without his words being listened to, then what was he? A misshapen dwarf whose family wished him dead, the voice in his head that sounded so much like his father's said and Tyrion groaned and spoke aloud.
"I killed you, you are not here." happy enough that it quietened it.
He'd watched as Jon Snow grew ever closer to his queen, and had seen the small little looks that both shared with each other. They weren't fucking, but it was only a matter of time until they were and he couldn't allow that to happen. It was bad enough that she was taking his advice over his own now, were they to be sleeping together, was Jon Snow to share the queen's bed, then his advice would perhaps be even less welcome and where would that leave him?
All of this for a mistake, an error in judgment, something that anyone could have made and he cursed that it was him that did so. He knew how wrong he was when he thought more truly about what Jon Snow had said, saw it clearly than how he'd tried to both get back at his family in one of the only ways he knew how and to show off how smart and clever he was by coming up with such a complex plan. Why didn't he keep it simple? Why not wait until they had the crown before taking the Rock? Who was he trying to impress?
The queen?
His sister and brother?
His father?
" You are no son of mine."
Again he shook the voice from his head and looked to the wine jug only to find it empty. Rising to his feet he readied for the day and did so with thoughts of Jon Snow and his queen in mind. The one good thing about Daenerys flying off on Jon Snow's stupid plan was that it kept them apart. Allowing them to be together for too long was only stroking the fires that were building between them and at some point not only would they give in to those fires, but someone may point out a political benefit too.
Jon Snow may not be King in the North but he was the key to it. Given the lack of other eligible suitors for the queen he was perhaps the most obvious choice for consort too. Through him, they'd gain the North and while his brother may not kneel to Daenerys alone, he would kneel to her and her husband if that husband was Jon Snow. Tyrion needed to break them apart before that happened and he had little hope that whatever Daenerys found in the Reach would help with that. Worst of all he feared that if anything it would only bring them even closer together.
He made his way to break his fast and arrived to find that it was to be Missandei and the Lady Melisandre that he was to eat with. There was no sign of Jon Snow or Lady Olenna and while the latter was more understandable, the former rarely missed breaking his fast. Looking to Missandei he saw her smile at some note she held in her hand and with a glance to see that Lady Melisandre was watching him with a keen eye, he turned and asked whether it was a raven of some import.
"No, it's a design for some armor for the queen." Missandei said happily.
"A most excellent idea, she'll be most pleased you came up with it." he said as he swallowed another piece of bacon, burned black just as he enjoyed it.
"It was not I who did so, Lord Snow suggested it." Missandei said and Tyrion felt his lips tighten.
"Then I must offer him my own thanks for coming up with such. Speaking of which, where is Lord Snow?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
"My prince breaks his fast with the Lady Olenna, Lord Tyrion." Lady Melisandre said and he tried not to let his annoyance show.
He ate in silence and after Missandei had eaten her own food, she left, leaving him alone with Lady Melisandre. Despite having no real wish to speak to the woman, her long looks at him discomfited him enough that he felt he had to and so he spoke on things he knew she'd speak to him on.
"Tell me more of the enemy Beyond the Wall, my lady." he said and Melisandre told him all he wished to know and more, her eyes studying him even as she spoke.
He tried as best he could to find out what it was that Jon Snow and Olenna had spoken about, Varys, Missandei, and the lady herself all either unable to or unwilling to tell him what it was, which irked him terribly. So much so that by the middle of the day he could wait no more and so he headed down to the beach and to where Jon Snow mainly took his luncheon, finding him there and alone as he normally was.
"Hungry work?" he asked with a smile on his face.
"Aye, rewarding though. You've eaten?" Jon asked motioning to the large chunk of bread that lay on the rock beside him.
"I prefer more choice far, Jon, I thought you knew that about me." he japed and it brought a smirk to Jon's face.
"Aye, I did. Has there been news from the queen?"
"Not as of yet. I wished to speak to you on the war in the North, Jon, the one you're preparing for."
"Fair enough, what's it you wish to know?" Jon asked his smile gone now and the far more serious and sullen looks he would get and that he remembered from his journey to the Wall with him was now back on his face.
"I know you want the queen's aid, her men, her dragons, but we need proof, Jon. You cannot just expect her grace to drop everything she's wished for, to abandon the crown just on your say so." Tyrion said, shaking his head.
"You name me a liar?" Jon asked angrily.
"Of course not, Jon, it's just…"
"Just what, Tyrion? Speak plainly for fucks sake we're not in court now."
"Jon I.."
"Fucking southerners, you can never say what it is you mean can you?" Jon said his anger almost threatening to explode and Tyrion wondered if he struck him would that be enough to earn him banishment from the island, perhaps it would, though he'd need more witnesses were it to occur before he could decide what to do or say next, he heard the dragons as they came close and then he, Jon Snow and he'd wager Missandei, Varys, Olenna and anyone else who heard them all were racing to where they landed.
Tyrion cursed his small stunted legs as he arrived long after Jon Snow had. Varys and Missandei had arrived too and yet he knew just by looking at the queen's face that it was Jon Snow who'd arrived first and been most welcomed. Pretty soon though Jon Snow and his queen were the last things on his mind as he watched him and the queen's guards untie the men from Rhaegal's back and help them to the ground. He was torn between moving to his queen to ask her if she was unharmed and to his brother who though conscious looked almost unaware of where he was. Beside Jaime were two men, a younger fair-headed man who he didn't recognize and an older bald and bearded man that he did.
"It seems we have much to discuss, Randyll." Lady Olenna said as she and her giant guards arrived, the smile on the woman's face was one that he'd rarely seen.
"You are well, my queen?" he asked, moving to Daenerys after he'd thought better of moving to Jaime.
"I am. Lord Greyjoy is still here?" Daenerys asked and he nodded "See that the prisoners are well treated, no visitors, Tyrion, none until we speak am I clear?"
"As you say, your grace."
Was it not for the fact that he'd just watched his brother be almost carried to the keep then he'd have worried about the fact that Jon Snow and the queen walked together with Olenna and Missandei. Instead, he was too focussed on the fact that Jaime was here, that whatever had happened in the Reach, Jaime was here and he needed to speak to him as soon as he could. He hurried off after them and it was to the cells he went only to be told that no one was allowed to speak to any of the prisoners without the queen's consent. Pointing out he was Hand had no effect and so it was to the queen's chambers he went where thankfully he found her alone, other than Missandei.
"Your grace. I wish to speak to my brother." he said almost demandingly only realizing what he did when she looked at him and shook her head.
"No one speaks to the prisoners, Tyrion. Not you, nor Lady Olenna though she wishes to speak to Lord Tarly just as keenly as you wish to speak to your brother."
"But…"
"I said no one, Tyrion. We have much to do, now speak to me about your sister."
"My sister?" he asked, confused.
"How dearly would she wish your brother back?" Daenerys asked.
"Very much so." he said before understanding "You wish to trade him for her own prisoners?" he asked once he realized what she planned to do.
"I want my allies back, Tyrion. We shall not leave them at your sister's mercy, not when we have something that can be traded. While Lord Snow is only aware that Yara Greyjoy was taken alive, I wager Lady Ellaria and her daughters were too given what you said regarding your niece. I want them all for your brother. Ravens have or should already have been sent and an exchange is to be organized."
"I feared… I feared you'd seek my brother dead." Tyrion said relatively.
"In time." Daenerys said chillingly "I wish to know more about the North too, Lord Snow's advice gained me this victory today and I am in his debt. Once the hostages have been exchanged I intend to head North to see this threat for myself."
"Your grace you cannot." he said shaking his head "Our war is in the South not in the North."
"I intended to go North, Tyrion, me, not our armies. I can do both." Daenerys said determinedly.
"Your grace…" he said only to be met with a shaking of her head and he knew he needed to do something to stop her from such foolishness "I would beg you reconsider, or at least to allow me to consider an alternate plan, one where you can repay your debt and yet do what you must here at the same time."
She looked at him curiously and then nodded much to his relief and as he walked from the room he found his thoughts were in turmoil. He needed to come up with a solution that both seemed to serve the queen's purpose and truly served his own. At dinner that night he looked on as Jon Snow and the queen shared more than a few laughs and some annoyingly longing looks. Olenna sat like the cat who got the cream as she too seemed more than enamored with the Bastard of Winterfell and Tyrion felt his jealousy rise and his ego take a battering.
It was to be him that was feted, him that was looked at so admiringly. His plans were to bring his queen the throne and to see her in her rightful place. For him to then finally be given the respect that he deserved and to be held up as a beacon of clever thinking and wisdom beyond his height. To finally shed the Imp and Demon Monkey and to be acknowledged as the true power behind the throne. Had it worked out as he planned then in years to come he'd be named just as his father had been before him, the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. His glory, his acclaim, his rightful place was being usurped by a bastard wolf and that couldn't stand.
That night he didn't sleep, instead, he drank and he knew things, or eventually, he knew things. The inkling of a plan came to him as he swallowed glass after glass of wine. A tiny spark became an inferno and the next morning he almost skipped through the halls as he made his way to break his fast. When he found himself alone while doing so it didn't bother him at first. Many times he'd arrived later than the others as he was not truly a man who enjoyed early mornings. It was only when his food was brought to him and he asked where the queen was that he really began to grow annoyed.
"Her grace is in the sparring yard, my lord." the young girl said and without even looking at the plate it was there he rushed to, the growing feeling at the pit of his stomach proved true once he got there.
Standing on the balcony overlooking the yard was his queen, Missandei, Lady Olenna, Lady Melisandre, and a little way off, Theon Greyjoy. Beneath them facing off against Qhono was Jon Snow and he held Longclaw in his hand. As the Dothraki cheered on their man so did the Northmen, shouts of White Wolf ringing out through the morning air and punctuated by the sounds of swords clashing together. What should have been a mismatch based on size was instead one based on skill. Jon Snow soon showed himself to be a far better swordsman than Qhono and it was only a matter of time or his will until he took the fight. Yet it wasn't truly the fight he watched and so he didn't see it when Qhono yielded. His eyes were focussed on the smile on his queen's face and he'd seen her wear that smile before, though rarely as truly as she did now.
"You did well, Jon Snow. I can see now why you wield such a fine blade." the queen shouted down to the man below, far too flirtatiously for her liking, and yet it was the reply which truly bothered him.
"Something as fine and well made deserved better than my inexperienced hands, your grace. It demanded me to be worthy to wield it and so I did all I could to ensure that was so. I'm most pleased that my efforts have been successful and have found favor in a queen's eye." Jon Snow said and was he not there he'd not have believed the shy boy who'd blushed terribly when he mentioned laying with a woman was speaking how he now was.
"Your experienced hands have indeed found favor, Jon Snow. I look forward to seeing you wield your blade more often."
The small smile on Jon Snow's face, the giggles between the queen and Missandei, the knowing looks exchanged between Lady Olenna and Melisandre, were he not already resolved to do what he intended, then they'd have been enough to force his hand. Yet it took until after luncheon for the meeting to be held, a meeting where they learned from Varys that Lady Ellaria and Tyene were all that remained of the Sand Snakes and he mourned them not upon learning of their fate. They and Yara Greyjoy had been presented to his sister as prizes by Euron Greyjoy and would have soon faced their doom were it not for the ravens sent by the queen.
"Will she exchange all three?" Daenerys asked worriedly as they stood in the Chamber of the Painted Table, an impromptu council called at his behest.
"Aye, your grace. For her brother, she will." Jon Snow said before Tyrion himself could and he glared at the bane of his current existence offering relief to the queen where he should not and where he himself should play his part.
"Your grace, Lord Snow. I've given much thought to the issues in the North." he said as Daenerys, Jon Snow, Varys, Olenna, and Missandei looked at him while Lady Melisandre did not and instead looked to Jon Snow.
"And what thoughts are they, Lord Tyrion?" Jon Snow asked and he wondered when things had become so strained between them, on Jon Snow's part not so much his own, the chill when either of them spoke growing as cold as the Wall itself had been.
"We cannot put aside our campaign in the South to go North and face an enemy no one would believe in." he said and before Jon Snow or Lady Melisandre could speak or his queen could he continued "We need proof. Were we to present one of these, what was it you named them as, Lady Melisandre?"
"Wights."
"Ah yes, Wights. Were we to present one of these so the lords of Westeros could see, then perhaps we could suspend our campaign in the South and deal with the problem in the North." he said looking at Jon Snow and to the queen both of whom were looking at each other.
"And how do you suggest we do so, Lord Hand, where would we get a Wight?" she asked looking to Jon Snow who nodded "Where would we find one of these wights."
"If we send a party beyond the Wall, your grace. One that had experience in dealing with the Army of the Dead, and who bore the weapons that could protect them…" he didn't need to finish as the queen shook her head and looked to Jon Snow who was staring at him, his face blank but his eyes alight as he looked far too closely at Tyrion for his liking.
Before anyone could answer one of the servants entered and handed Jon Snow a raven's scroll, all eyes turning to look at him when he broke the seal and read the note. Rarely had he seen such joy on a face as he saw right then. The smile he wore was so true that when Tyrion looked to his queen he could see she wore one simply because she'd seen Jon Snow do so.
"My prince?" Lady Melisandre asked when no one else spoke.
"It's from my brother, King Rickon. My other brother Bran has returned as has my sister. Arya I… I feared so much, but she's back with my family, she's alive, they're both… Thank the old gods." Jon Snow said and he swore he could see tears in the man's eyes, tears of joy that he himself had never shed and again he hated him for being able to feel what he could not.
"This is wonderful news, Lord Snow. Wonderful. I'm sure you wish to send word back to them both. We'll continue this discussion at a later time." Daenerys said and Tyrion went to interrupt only for Jon Snow to do so.
"There is no need, your grace. I can send a raven in an hour as easily as one now. While this changes much it doesn't change the needs of the North nor what Lord Tyrion is proposing but I have to decline the offer, my lord. I agree the capture of a wight is important as is showing the Lords and Ladies of Westeros what comes their way, but I'll not risk men on something that I'm not willing to do myself, and this I am not willing to do." Jon Snow said firmly and Tyron saw the angered look that appeared on his queen's face when she realized the full extent of his plan.
"Then why should we offer aid for a war we don't know the truth of, Jon? You ask too much of us." he said only for the queen to interrupt him as she rose to her feet.
"I've spoken of what I know, Lord Tyrion, if my word is not to be believed, then so be it. Your Grace, May I be given leave to send a raven to my brother?" Jon Snow asked, his anger directed at him and him alone and not at the queen who just nodded and looked at him forlornly as he left.
Tyrion's victory though was short-lived. He had watched with pleasure when Jon Snow, Lady Melisandre, and Varys all walked from the room, Varys following to see what words Jon Snow wrote in his note to Winterfell while Melisandre followed after the man she named as her prince. The Red Priestess was almost as faithful to Jon Snow as that white wolf of his. The moment they left, however, he felt all the eyes in the room turn his way and he saw how angrily the queen looked at him.
"You speak far too freely, Tyrion, far too freely. Lord Snow has proved his word is to be trusted and yet still you question him and put any alliance we may secure at risk." Daenerys said her words restrained and only so because of the company they kept.
"Rather that than all you've worked for, your grace. Were this threat true then surely Lord Snow would be more than willing to offer us that proof?" Tyrion said, enjoying the momentary doubt he saw in the queen's eyes.
"My queen, these dead men, this army. Could they be seen from the sky? If they march then surely they can be seen to do so?" Missandei asked, taking him and the queen by surprise.
"As were the ones you dealt with in the Reach, your grace." Lady Olenna added and Tyrion looked at both women dumbfounded and then at the queen who wore a large smile on her face now and the words she spoke were like arrows to his heart.
"Then it's settled. I shall accompany Lord Snow to the North, while there we will seek out this army and then I will treat with the King in the North face to face." Daenerys said firmly and resolutely.
"Your grace…."
"I've made my choice, Lord Hand. Lord Snow has sought little in return for the advice he's given and this is the least we can offer him in thanks. Should there be no threat Beyond the Wall then so be it, but far better we seek the threat out from the safety of a dragon's back than risk lives we need not."
"We should make plans for dealing with Cersei too, your grace. Either before you leave or once you're returned from the North." Lady Olenna said though he barely heard her.
"We'll speak more before we exchange the prisoners, my lady." Daenerys said before she, Missandei, and Lady Olenna all turned to leave the room and he was left standing there alone.
He stood looking down at the painted table, his eyes looking North when he only wished them to look South, his anger rising as he thought of them wasting time on grumpkins and snarks and even more so as he thought of Jon Snow.
"That man needs to die and die soon." he said softly as he brushed his hand over Winterfell and let his thoughts drift to how best to see that done.