"Why is she on your list?" he asked, curious.
"She took Gendry away. Gave the Brotherhood a pouch of coin and took him away from…" he smiled softly when she caught herself, knowing what she would have said. "She wanted him for who he was, is, and I have no doubt that she would have seen him dead had you not freed him."
"Yet he is alive and you keep avoiding him."
"This… This is not the time to dwell on the past nor one for a heartfelt reunion. Do not look at me like that!" she growled and he couldn't help but laugh. "I know what you're thinking, but this is not the same. I was relieved to see him alive, but he came back with those who sold him as if it was nothing! As if he hadn't suffered from their betrayal!"
Davos realized it was the first time he'd seen the girl behave this passionately for someone who wasn't her family. From what he had gathered from Gendry since Arya didn't talk much about her past, she had been smuggled out of the city by a man of the Watch and had traveled with Gendry for a long time. They had faced horrors in Harrenhal that the lad didn't want to reminisce about and their bond had strengthened during their time of captivity. The loss of Gendry might have hurt her deeply as he was the one she was connected to, and that she didn't want to be hurt again was understandable. After all, who was he, a man who had been avoiding his family since the Battle of Blackwater Bay, to judge her?
"You should talk to him." he said and lifted his hand in defense when she glared at him. "Hear him out, learn how he survived and why he chose to follow the Brotherhood. You never know, you might be surprised by his motives."
"Mayhaps…" she sighed pensively before shaking her head. "As for you, Ser Davos, I think you should do the same with my brother. You may think he went back on his word because he owes the Red Woman for Rickon's life, but I know now there's more to it. I still do not trust her, not around Jon, not after… But I think you need to clear the air with him."
He nodded and then resolved to have that conversation, only to back down as he faced Jon. Seeing how lost he was had once more made him forget about his resentment.
When he got summoned by the Queen herself, Davos wasn't sure he should go. Yet he was a man of the South, her subject in all but name, and he was curious as to why she would want to see him. He was even more surprised to find out she was alone and that neither Rickon nor Jon were there.
"Have a seat, Ser Davos," she said warmly as he did so. "You probably wonder why I asked specifically for us to meet?"
"Aye, Your Grace. I do."
"I've heard much about you. From Jon, my council, King Rickon, and the Red Priestess, all of them agree with each other and say that you are a good man who cares for the people and who serves them faithfully." she said offering him a smile which he didn't know how to interpret.
"I only do what I think is right, Your Grace." he said, confused and lost at where the conversation was going.
"That I heard, too, Ser. You tried to convince Lord Stannis that his path was not the right one, even though you believed he would be a good King. You stood by his side until the end, while trying to make him see reason."
"I wish I had succeeded…" he said sadly, images of Shireen tied to a pyre and pleading for her life going through his mind as it had every day since he learned the truth, and he shook his head to focus. "No offense, Your Grace."
"None taken, Ser. I understand. Jon told me about what had happened to Lord Stannis' daughter and the promise he made to you because of it."
"He did?" Davos frowned, surprised.
"He did and Melisandre confirmed it. I must say I admire you, Ser Davos. That you stayed and kept helping King Rickon. To see that you're willing to trust Jon to keep to his promise and stay faithful regardless of the circumstances and that you're still willing to fight for the living speaks volumes about your character. That is why I wanted to see you."
"I… don't understand, your Grace."
"I need people who care deeply about others by my side. I need to be able to trust them to talk to me when something displeases them. For them to stand up for the interests of the smallfolk as much as they may the Lords and Ladies of Westeros. I heard what you did during the Rebellion. I know we would have been opposed should Stannis Baratheon have lived, yet people like you are rare in this world and it would be a shame not to ask it of you."
"Ask me what, Your Grace?"
"I would name you Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, Ser Davos Seaworth."
He heard the words, he heard them well, loud and clear, and yet he couldn't understand them. Him? Lord Paramount? He was a landed knight, a former smuggler who still struggled to read and write. He had never received a proper education and the Queen now wanted him to rule the Stormlands?
"I… With all due respect, Your Grace -" he said, shaking his head.
"You don't think you're the man I should choose for the role. Was that what you were about to say?" she said, smiling as if the whole thing amused her and he nodded. "This is exactly why I think you are, Ser Davos. And I am not the only one who does."
"Who…"
"Well, Jon does of course. And if my betrothed's word is not enough, Lady Olenna Tyrell and Lord Varys both think there is no better man to rule the Stormlands than you, as you are well respected by the Lords who reside there."
"I…"
"Oh, and as for the King in the North. King Rickon argued and said that I should stop taking competent people away from him, but that it would be a just reward for a good man and that he would kick your arse if you refused." she added with a chuckle.
These words made him smile despite his inner turmoil. He didn't feel worthy of this honor, but it meant a lot that Jon and Rickon did. It also showed how far the younger lad had grown from his abandonment issues, even if part of Davos felt sad at the idea of leaving the boy king.
"You haven't seen your family in years, from what I heard." Daenerys said, bringing him back from his thoughts. "It is a good opportunity for your sons to get a proper education and to have a truer future is it not?"
"I do not think my wife would agree to this, Your Grace. I… I know not how my family would welcome the news, after all that happened…"
"I see…" Daenerys said, and her sad smile made Davos look away. He did not deserve the pity he was receiving either. "I hope you will forgive me for this, Ser. I do not want you to think I am overstepping. Lord Varys reached out to your wife when we heard your story and made our decision."
Davos gasped and looked at the Queen with a mixture of surprise, worry, and fear. His heart beat so quickly in his chest he felt in a daze.
"Marya? You… Is she well? Are our sons…"
"They are well." the Queen said and it was enough for Davos to warm his heart and feel relieved.
"Are they in Cape Wrath? In Braavos? How… Why…"
"I believe this will answer all of your questions." she answered, handing a sealed letter to him. "My offer still stands, but I understand that you need time to consider it. Come to me with your answer when you're ready, Ser Davos. Take your time and make the best choice for you and your family, just as I've made the best choice for the Stormlands and the Realm."
With a shaky hand, Davos accepted the letter. His unease was back, along with the fear of its content. He was grateful that the Queen then decided to leave him alone to gather his thoughts and open the letter. He hadn't seen the seal of his House for so long that he had almost forgotten what it looked like, and he hesitated before breaking it. His fingers softly caressed the black ship and the onion sails.
Father,
We are relieved to hear that you are alive and well.
Mother wanted to curse at you for not coming home but Lord Varys has explained everything about the threat of the Army of the Dead. We know nothing we could say would prevent you from doing what you think is right. Devan wanted to come and help you but Mother said no, so please, try not to get yourself killed and come back to us when you are done.
We miss you.
Your sons, Devan, Stannis and Steffon.
If his sons' words weren't enough to make Davos cry, the two sentences written by his wife at the end of the letter made him crumble.
You are indeed better at smuggling than being a knight, a Hand, or a husband, but you are still mine in the light of the Seven and I wouldn't change it, for I do not regret the sons you gave me, nor the love I bear for you. I swore when we wed to wait for you until my last breath, so I will be waiting for the day you stop punishing yourself for things you had no control over by staying away from us.
Marya.
The emotions inside him seemed to come in waves. He was so happy to read that his wife was not harboring ill feelings for him and that his sons wanted to see him once more. Yet he was needed in the North for the duration of the preparation of the War of the Dead, and there was a chance that he would not make it to meet them again. Dread and fear almost choked him at the idea of not being able to see them, but he couldn't and wouldn't ask them to come North. The farthest away from here they were, the safer they would be. He couldn't leave either. Not while he was still needed.
His feet brought them to Rickon's door and he shook his head, thinking about what he was about to ask the King in the North. He could see the irony of it, of relying on an almost twelve-name day's old boy for advice, but he was one of the few that he trusted to talk to him and hit him with the cold hard truth.
"Ser Davos? Is something the matter?" Rickon asked and he smiled at the concern he felt coming from the King.
"I… Talked to the Queen and… Received news from my family."
"This is great!" Rickon rejoiced before frowning when Davos didn't react as he should have. "This is a good thing, good news, right?"
"They're alive and well, and they want me to come home."
"Oh." he breathed. "When do you want to depart?"
"I cannot…"
"Come on, Davos! You haven't seen them in years. Years!"
"I know but I have a duty -"
"Fuck your duties, Davos. Go see your loved ones." Rickon said firmly, his words bringing a smile to Davos' face.
"What if the dead arrive when I am away?" Davos insisted. "I cannot simply up and leave when I know we'll all be fighting soon!"
"Who said anything about leaving? You can still see your family and then come back to fight." Rickon replied matter-of-factly.
"This is impossible, lad."
"Not for dragons it is not."
"You… you would want me to ask the Queen to fly me to Cape Wrath so I could see my family?" Davos asked in disbelief, even more confused when Rickon shook his head.
"He's talking about me, Ser Davos." The voice behind him startled him and he was surprised to see a smiling Jon standing in the corner and he welcomed it when Ghost came to greet him, the white wolf licking his hand and for the first time, he felt the comfort that such a thing offered and envied the Starks just a little.
"How…"
"You're getting the hang of it quite fast, brother." Rickon greeted Jon while the latter smirked at his little brother.
"Well, I did have a good teacher." Jon said as Ghost wagged his tail and moved to stand beside him.
"That you have! I'm the best!" Rickon exclaimed to a shake of the wolf's head and a chuckle that seemed out of place from Jon Snow.
"What the hell is going on?" Davos finally said, lost with the change of topic.
Both brothers lost their cheery composure at the same time, and Davos would have thought them to be twins if not for their notable gap in age. Were his sons the same? He had almost forgotten what they looked like and that was another arrow to his heart.
"I think it is high time for you to hear the truth, Ser Davos. A little secret we've hidden for you." Jon said and Rickon nodded.
"A secret?"
"Aye. I pray you forgive us, forgive me, for it as it wasn't for lack of trust that we didn't share it with you. I needed time to adjust my feelings about what I had discovered. I know you've been worried about me lately and I needed time to figure it all out myself." Jon said softly.
"Is it about your mother?"
"Aye, It is." Jon said as Rickon led Davos to sit on his bed.
To say the old knight was in shock was an understatement. He had of course understood and forgiven the need for secrecy once Jon, no, Baelon told him who he truly was. The revelation that the Rebellion had taken place over a lie shook him to his very core, and Davos wasn't even one of those who'd suffered most at that time. He thought about Stannis, and about those at Storm's End who had died because their Liege had been threatened by a Mad King.
Davos had been living at Flea Bottom at the start of the rebellion and had hoped the rumors about Rhaegar weren't true, for he had admired the Prince and like so many others he had wished that he would replace his mad father soon enough. Truly, he hadn't suffered under Aerys' rule, nor did he under Robert's, but he remembered the unease the people felt around the Red Keep and the hope that Rhaegar would be better than his father.
Part of him had quickly blamed Rhaegar and Lyanna's lack of foresight, only to be reminded looking at their son that they had suffered the consequences of it. Whereas he, for his actions, had been rewarded by Stannis and had gained a status that he would not have had Rhaegar and Lyanna not fallen for each other. All in all, it was and had been one giant clusterfuck.
Davos quickly understood Rickon's change of heart, and the knight felt proud for how much intelligence and growth the lad had shown. His need to protect the one he still considered his brother by uniting his claim to Daenerys' before the truth came out was as powerful as his desire to see Jon happy for once. The Queen seemed supportive of her nephew, which was a good thing given the circumstances.
When he'd heard that Jon had bonded with one of her dragons, more pieces of the mystery unraveled before him. The fact that he had known about the victory in the South meant he had been there, and Davos had thought long and hard about how the lad could have traveled so far in such a short time. When Sansa Stark had been abducted and Jon had brought her back before the rest of the party, he had also wondered how but had never thought of a dragon to be the reason for it.
As he was ready to travel with Jon to see his family, he also understood why Rickon felt so confident that he could do what he needed and not be missed. On a dragon's back, he and Jon could travel to the Stormlands and back in two or three days and were the dead to attack before then, they were fucked regardless of them being here or not.
"I owe you this, Ser Davos." Jon said. "This and so much more. For you have been a true friend when I needed one, a father figure when I needed my arse kicked, and a faithful supporter to me and my family. The least I can do for you now is to let you see your loved ones. I hope you'll accept the title of Lord Paramount when we have beaten the Army of the Dead. For I see no one better man for the position or to help Dany create the world she wants than you."
He should have known the Gods would not grant him his wishes as easily as that. A loud roar shook the walls of his rooms and he rushed to the courtyard to be met with complete chaos. The green dragon was there, spooking the horses and the people, and Jon was in a heated argument with his younger brother. Davos had no time to hear the reason for it, as Jon rushed to the dragon's side and climbed on it without a hint of hesitation. Davos knew by looking at the desperation in Jon's eyes when their stares met that whatever was happening, it was bad enough to let him expose at least one of his secrets to the watching eyes.
He could hear the gasps around him and the questions raising as Jon flew away North.
What is the meaning of this?
Why are the dragons heading North?
Where are they going exactly?
Has the Wall fallen?
Are the Dead already here?
How could a bastard fly a dragon?
"Gather the council, Ser Davos." Rickon's cold voice had the effect of a whip bringing him back to the moment. "We'll need to address this before Jon's return."
"Fuck me…" was all he could muster before complying, not missing the sour expressions on the Starks siblings, nor the slight smile on the face of the crippled one.
Winterfell 304 AC.
Missandei.
The cold had been hard to take, the lands while beautiful and different, were so very cold and for her, Grey Worm and so many others, that had been hard to adapt to. Yet by the time they had gotten halfway to Winterfell, she felt that she had. Though a lot of her good cheer hadn't been because she no longer feared walking from her tent and facing the day ahead and had instead been because of the talks she had with her queen.
To see her so happy had been a boon to her spirit and one that she'd welcomed greatly. She'd liked Jon Snow from the moment she'd met him almost, certainly within days of meeting him. He was honest to a fault and true, something that she believed her queen needed more than anything else. That it had led to Tyrion Lannister's influence first being diminished and then completely taken away had been something she'd been most pleased about. The dwarf may have thought himself so very clever, but he'd led her queen wrong on more than one occasion and she didn't wish to consider where he may have led her was he still in a position to do so.
When the truth about who Jon Snow was had been revealed to her and when the suggestions had been made that named him the best possible match for her queen, she'd completely agreed. While her queen had been nervous and had worried some that he may not feel the same as her or that the truth would have changed things between them, Missandei had done her best to reassure her. So when Dany had come back and told them that they'd spoken and that he'd asked her to marry him, she'd shared in her joy. As she did when they arrived at Winterfell and the match had been agreed to by King Rickon Stark and the Lords of the North.
From then on she'd been busy with the arrangements for the wedding itself, so she'd not had too much of a chance to take note of how the men and women of the North truly felt about her queen and their own presence. The Starks seemed happy enough that their brother was to wed and with his bride. Sansa Stark even helped her with the making of the queen's dress and talked her through the procedure for a Northern Wedding. It was something that Missandei so looked forward to seeing after she'd been told about it. A walk to the Godswood, lanterns lighting, and simple words spoken and repeated, all at night, made it sound almost magical to her for some reason. Yet the moment that Viserion had acted up and her queen and Jon Snow had been forced to mount the dragons to go and chase after him, she knew things were about to change.
"We should send men after the Khalessi and Khal, we can ride and find them." Qhono said in the impromptu meeting they held.
"Unsullied go too." Grey Worm said and Missandei shook her head.
"The queen and Jon Snow will be safe enough with the dragons. They'll not need or seek your help in what they must do and neither of you can truly help them with Viserion anyway. We must continue our preparations for the war to come." she said as firmly as she could.
"The Khaleesi?" Ser Jorah asked worriedly.
"Is our queen not fierce? Is she not brave and strong? Is Jon Snow not formidable with a sword in hand?" she asked to nods ``Do you believe any can harm our queen while she rides on Drogon's back?"
"The Golden men." Qhono said as he spoke of the attack against the Lannister convoy and Missandei shook her head.
"Our queen needs no help, Qhono, and would be far happier if you and the Dothraki do as she bid you to." she said and finally the leader of the Dothraki nodded his agreement.
She waited until he'd left the room and turned to Grey Worm, he'd not disagreed with her while she'd spoken to Qhono but that didn't mean he didn't disagree.
"Our queen is safe, Torgho Nudho, Ser Jorah. Jon Snow will see to it. They are to be wed." she said, offering both men a warm smile and she saw them relax.
"She will be safe." Ser Jorah said a moment later.
"The men of the North, we must watch them most carefully. I believe they knew not of Jon Snow and Rhaegal. Have our men listen to words spoken and to report any that speak ill of our queen or her husband to be." she said with a nod to Ser Jorah who left her alone with Grey Worm.
"I will do as Missandei of Naath says." Grey Worm said once they were alone and she rose to her feet and kissed him softly on the lips, just a grazing of them for now but the thoughts of many things stuck in her head until they were abed that night.
She had been right to worry about how the men of the North may react. The Starks faced question after question about Jon Snow's ability to ride a dragon and though they wished to wait until her queen and Jon Snow returned, the longer it took, the less of an option that was becoming. When they called for her, she made her way to the King's Solar accompanied by her guards. At first, she'd not felt the need for them here in this place, but once the dragons had flown away, she had since changed her mind. There was an air of something that she couldn't quite name that hung around the keep and within some of the men, an air she liked not.
"His grace wished to speak to me." she said to the large blond woman and the man who stood with her that guarded the King's Chambers.
"I'll see if he's ready, my lady." the woman said as she knocked on the door, and then a moment later, Missandei was asked inside.
When she entered the room it was to see the King in the North, his two sisters, and the older man who both the king and Jon Snow seemed so close, Ser Davos Seaworth. The two wolves lay beside the two girls and the room was warm and welcoming, though their expressions were not. Not that they were unfriendly or that there were any glares or angered looks aimed in her direction, more the looks worn were those of concern.
"Lady Missandei, please take a seat. Have you eaten, do you wish for something to drink?" Sansa Stark asked and Missandei shook her head.
"I'm well, my lady." she said as she took her seat.
"Have you heard any word from your queen?" Arya Stark asked and once again Missandei shook her head.
"Jon and the dragon, Lady Missandei. How long has he been able to control it?" Ser Davos asked.
"Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor, Ser Davos." (A dragon is not a slave, Ser Davos.) she said with a half-smile on her face.
"My lady?"
"A dragon is not a slave, Ser Davos. Neither Jon Snow nor my queen controls their dragons, they are bonded to them, and together their will is done." She said to confused looks "Should for any reason either Rhaegal or Drogon disagree with the request made of them, they'll argue and make their point just as you or I would. They are not mindless beasts nor trained dogs to do their owner's will without thought, they are far smarter than that." she said as proudly as Dany had once said the same thing to her.
Her words didn't have the effect she wished them to, the worried looks increasing and the frowns becoming even more pronounced.
"You're saying they can't control them?" Ser Davos asked.
"Not exactly. I'm saying it's no different than if Jon Snow ordered you to kill each of us in this room. You'd not follow through blindly and neither would the dragons. However, the bond of trust between a dragon and its rider, between a mother and her children, is one that cannot be underestimated. So both Drogon and Rhaegal will follow most if not all commands given to them by my queen and Jon Snow, but only if those commands are worthy ones." she said and saw the relaxing on some of the faces.
"What of the other one?" King Rickon asked.
"Viserion has no bonded and so it'll be to his mother that he looks first and foremost."
"And the queen can calm him?" Arya asked and Missandei nodded.
"I know the dragons have flown to the Wall, Missandei, though why and what for I know not. Jon in climbing onto Rhaegal's back has left us with no other choice but to tell a truth which I believe you're aware of?" King Rickon said.
"I am."
"There may be some harsh words spoken about my brother and your queen, I'd ask you to do what you can in regards to the queen's men."
"We will let certain things pass, your grace, but only certain things." she said and Rickon nodded.
"I'll give it another day and night, with any luck they'll both have returned by then, if not we'll do as we must."
"As you say, your grace."
During her meal that night she looked out and could see certain lords looking her way and at the Unsullied and Dothraki who'd been invited into the Great Hall. Only some of their men ate here each night, chosen men who at first had been chosen because of their temperament and then by her because of their comfort with the common tongue. Men who'd sit and seem disinterested but were anything but. Their job was the same as it had been for the last day or so, to listen and take note of any who spoke ill of their queen and Jon Snow. So far they'd identified only some of the soldiers and so-called small folk who'd done so and if anything it was still Ser Jorah who most spoke badly of.
Later as she readied for bed, she found that it had begun to stretch to some of the lords too, one of them in particular who it seemed was trying to rile up the others. She'd not liked Lord Glover's looks in her queen's direction when they'd arrived, nor the sneer he always seemed to have on his face whenever he passed one of the Unsullied or Dothraki. So it was no great surprise to her that he was now trying to make trouble for her queen and Jon Snow.
"I end him?" Grey Worm asked as he began to undress.
"Only if needed. Let us see how the Starks deal with him first."
"Better I end him now." Grey Worm said and she moved to the bed, reaching her hand out to help him into it.
"For now we wait, for now."
"For now." he said and then he was beside her and his tongue was no longer being used for words, the only sounds in the room were her moans as she relished the many things they did together.
Winterfell 304 AC.
Robett Glover.
Each day since he'd returned here he'd found himself growing more and more wroth with the Starks. Watching as they welcomed a foreign whore into the heart of the North was bad enough, seeing how they kissed her arse and the arses of the savages she'd brought with her, that was too much. Other than the Lords of the Vale though it seemed he was alone in his thinking. Robett had found himself to be dismayed while looking to his fellow northerners and seeing them go out of their way to help the savages settle and to seek scraps from the dragon's table.
Yet as much as he may have hated everything that Daenerys Targaryen stood for, as angered as he was in seeing cockless men and savage Horse Lords walk around Winterfell with nary a care in the world, it was the Starks that bore the brunt of his ire. Each of them in their own way was as guilty as the other as far as he was concerned. Ned Stark's oldest living trueborn son was not a man that any in the North or elsewhere would ever follow. A crippled and strange lad who unnerved anyone who came into contact with him was not who should be Lord of Winterfell and King in the North. Not that the actual King in the North was any better.
Rickon Stark was an abomination, an affront to the Old Gods and yet they'd named him as their king. What little leeway that Robett had given him because he bore the blood right to such a title had gone away very quickly. From accepting that the Wildlings were now a part of the North true, to not placing him in a position that should have been his by right, to the lad himself and how he looked at and had treated him. No, Rickon Stark was no king of his, and each decision he made, was one that Robett had found fault with. None more than the one involving his bastard brother and the foreign whore.
" Is it the curse of all Starks, to throw their lives away for what lies between a foreign whore's legs." he said drunkenly as he sat with his men.
" They are fine legs my lord."
" Aye, I'd not turn down the chance to rut between them, Har."
" They are the legs of a whore, I'd rather see my cock cut off than ever lay with a woman such as her." he said dismissing the laughs and the lustful looks that some of his men threw the whore's way.
The foreign whore was as much of a disappointment to him as Ned Stark's girls were. True she had dragons and an army of a size that he could barely imagine, but he'd heard many a tale of the beauty of dragons and he saw it not. A good northern woman like his Sybelle was what a man needed. He'd not find one in Winterfell however as both Ned Stark's daughters were anything but good northern women. Sansa Stark was every inch her mother's daughter, right down to her courtesies and while Catelyn Tully was a fool who'd helped lead them to ruin, he had at first seen some promise in her daughter.
For a time she'd been a counter to her abomination of a brother and the bastard who stood by his side. She'd gone against them, plotted against them, and while he had no time for Littlefinger and the man's machinations, at least what he was trying to do would have seen the North free. Yet during his time away from Winterfell, while he was on a fool's mission to guard a place that needed none, things had taken a turn. Littlefinger had been unmanned and it had been Sansa Stark who'd done so. Something that Robett found hard to believe and was sure that it was some tale to cover up the bastard killing a lord without trial.
In this, he was not alone, as the Lords of the Vale were not best pleased about their regent's death and sought a justice that was not forthcoming from the King in the North. He'd heard talk of how the bastard had dared them to name a champion to face him in a trial by combat. Robett may have thought little of Jon Snow, but he'd not deny that had he been here then he'd not have stood up himself. Much had been said about Snow's ability with a blade and while he'd at first tried to dismiss it, he'd seen him spar and found the stories true. So it was to a foreign whore that the Lords of the Vale would seek justice from and he doubted they'd find any. As for Sansa Stark, whatever promise she'd shown was no more and she was now just as bad as the rest of her kin.
He'd not even considered the younger Stark girl, for she unnerved him as much the cripple and the abomination did. There was fell magic at work in Arya Stark and few people managed to quieten him with simply a look as she did. Robett was not against women being able to fight, it should not be their only goal in life though and none should ever be able to truly match a man with a sword in hand. Maege Mormont and her girls were he'd thought the one exception to that, Arya Stark though had them beat and he'd not wish to find himself opposite her with a weapon in his hand.
" I've never seen a girl move like her. The big lady, aye, but not like Underfoot." one of the Stark guards said as Arya and Brienne of Tarth faced off.
" Where does someone learn to fight in such a way?"
" Can we be taught it?"
" Gods she should have been beaten and yet she knows not when to give up."
He remembered the words and the fight as if it had happened yesterday and not weeks earlier. The coin he'd lost was still something he wasn't best pleased about. After the spar, he'd sought out more knowledge about Arya Stark and found out things that marked her out as much of an abomination as her brother was. Tales of faces, poisons, deaths, and of a god that was not his own all combined to make him look even less fondly on Ned Stark's youngest girl. Yet despite it all, despite how he felt about each and every one of the Starks or even the Foreign Whore, it was the bastard that he truly took issue with.
Jon Snow strolled around Winterfell as if he was the King in the North. He was a man who should have lost his head for deserting the Watch and breaking his oaths. Without him, the boy king would have held no true authority either and there had been times when he'd considered how best to be rid of him. Nights when he'd considered sending men to ambush the bastard and see to his end and then to see to the righting of the North itself. He'd even spoken to some of his better men and tried to get them to come around to his way of thinking. Offered them gold to see it done, without actually asking outright for them to do what he wished.
" There's not a man amongst us who could take him in a fight, milord. Not a man amongst us is even willing to try."
" He's but one man."
" He's no ordinary man, milord."
" Surely, three, four, or even five men would be too much for him?" he asked.
" I doubt it, but even were we for him, we'd not be for the white wolf, milord. The Ghost would see to us long before then."
" What about with bows?" he asked curiously.
" I'd not risk it, Milord, not for all the gold in Casterly Rock."
" Do you really wish him dead, milord?"
" What, no of course not." he lied "I just wished to know that the man who's to lead us into battle is one who's capable."
" Aye, that he is, milord. Of that, I've no doubt."
It was a bad state of affairs when even your own men were too craven to take on a bastard. Yet so too were the Lords of the Vale and so there was enough there to give him pause. The simple truth was that it was not going to be one on one that brought him the ends of Jon Snow and Rickon Stark. Not an assassin's blade that removed them from the North, the only way that could happen was for them to show their true colors and for the rest of the North to see them as he did. He'd all but given up hope that they would until the dragon had begun to roar and all eyes turned to the sky.
A few days earlier.
"What the fuck is wrong with the dragons?"
"Are we under attack?"
"How do we stop them if we are?"
As he ran through the courtyard it was the last question that stopped him in his tracks. He was no craven but should he fall before his time then the North would be left to the Wolves and the Dragons when it needed a Silver Fist to see it through these dark days. So he stopped and was not the only one to do so. When he saw the dragon queen running through the courtyard on her own, he wished he had a bow to fire an arrow at her, as he did even more so when he saw Jon Snow run by a few moments alone. It was rare that neither wasn't protected when they moved about the keep. The white wolf, the cockless men, or the savages all were missing for once, and were it not for the fear he already felt about the dragon's roars, then he'd have considered taking his chance while it came.
Instead he, like others, looked on as the golden dragon took to the sky and headed north followed by the black one with the dragon queen on its back. Were that all that they saw then he'd mayhap have worried that the tales that were spread about the dead marching on the Wall had just been proved true and that the war itself was upon them. Seeing Jon Snow climb up onto the green dragon's back, however, watching as it accepted him as if he was the dragon queen himself, all thoughts of war and the Wall left him, and instead, it was questions that came to mind.
How could Jon Snow ride on a dragon?
How long had this been so?
Why had they not been told?
What need did they have for the foreign whore when they had a dragon of their own to call upon?
Was this why a marriage had been arranged?
For now, it was the last of those that he concentrated on. The annoyance and disgust he'd felt when he'd been informed that Jon Snow was to wed the Foreign Whore and repeat the mistakes of his brother, soon rose up again. So much so that it took him some time to realize the opportunity that he'd been given here and was it not for Lord Royce, then he may not have done so at all. The Lord of the Vale asked him some of the very same questions he had himself and when he answered him was when it became clear.
"No, I knew not of this, nor did any of the Lords of the North." he replied angrily to Royce's question.
"I find that hard to believe, Lord Glover."
"You name me a liar?"
"Not you, but surely someone knew of this.
Later he had found out the truth, others knew of it and when he found out who, he could have cried out in joy. The Starks, the fucking Starks knew. They knew and kept it from them all. Not one of the Lords of the North had been told of this, not one of them knew of this and he'd finally found what he could use to drive the wolves and dragons from the North, or so he'd thought.
The Mountain Clans cared not. So what if Jon Snow could tame a dragon, he was on their side in the fight that comes and better two Dragonriders than one. Manderly cared not, the fat fool had found favor with the Starks and was most pleased with this turn of events. Besides, the North was soon to be joined to the House of Dragon in marriage and the queen and her men were here to help them in the fight ahead, Wyman had said.
"You think she'll just accept a wedding and nothing else. It's the North itself she wants." he said bitterly.
"Aye, and she could take it if she wished, or do you believe we could stand against her army or her dragons? A King, Robett, a King of the Seven Kingdoms with Stark Blood in his veins. I'll gladly kneel to such a king, it's what I've already done after all." Wyman said and Robett knew he'd find no friend in the Merman.
Each and every single one he went to bringing him the same reply. Some were annoyed at now knowing about Jon Snow, most had questions, but few it seemed felt as he did. Even when he began to grow more and more desperate and laid out things in a more forthright manner, he found no friends and some enemies. Howland Reed actually threatened him and though the Lord of the Neck was a small man in stature, he was not a man that Robett would seek to cross.
The Lords of the Vale were as useless as any southerner were. They spoke a good game, bristled under the eyes of the Starks and the Foreign Whore but other than words and seeking a legal remedy, not one of them sought to actually do more than bellyache. Lyanna Mormont actually slapped his face and was so stunned by it was he, that it took him more than a few moments to realize what she'd done. His words to her had probably been as close to full-on treason as he'd uttered and she'd not taken them well.
"Speak of my king in such a manner once again and it'll be more than my hand that strikes you. It shames me to name you a fellow Northerner." she spat.
"Why you little…"
"One more step, Glover, one more step, and I'll end you where you stand. Care to test me on this?" Jorah Mormont said, his sword an inch from Robett's neck and there was no need for him to answer what was not really a question.
"Be thankful that I don't seek my cousin to cut your treasonous throat, Lord Glover, be thankful that it's not my judgment that you'll face." Lyanna Mormont said as she and Jorah Mormont walked away.
They had shamed him truly and he'd felt true fear that day. That it had come at the hands of a girl not much older than his grandchildren and a slaver who just like the bastard who he'd soon be naming his kings should have lost his head, was not something he appreciated. From that point on, he'd found the same responses almost, though none other than Lyanna Mormont had dared to lay a hand on him when giving them. All had told him that he traveled a dangerous path and he'd replied that at least his one was righteous in the eyes of the true north and the gods. He'd dismissed their concerns and had traveled further down that path, seeking any ally that he could find, and finding only warnings that he ignored.
As he was dragged into the Great Hall of Winterfell, he felt he should have listened to those warnings, to those words. Looking to the high table to see three of Ned Stark's trueborn children look his way, to see Lords and Ladies of the North look his way, he knew he should have listened. When the two wolves moved towards him and he felt his piss run down his leg and heard the laughs ring out from the Wildlings, he knew he should have listened. Now as he did so, he knew it was far too late.
"Lord Robett Glover, you've been brought here today to face charges of treason, how do you plead?" Rickon Stark called out and where Robett got the strength from he didn't know.
"It's not treason to stand up for the North. To stand against the abomination that we named a king. I committed no treason, I've always been true and it's you and the rest of you damn Starks who need to be held accountable." he spat and before he could be called out, he knew what he must do "I demand a trial by combat." he said and he swore he saw Rickon Stark smile a wolfish smile.
"Do you have a champion, Lord Glover?"
"I'm mine own champion." he said proudly.
"Aye, your own fool and your own harpist too no doubt." Rickon Stark said to loud laughs from the Wildlings "Very well, we name Arya Stark as our champion. One hour, my lord. I'd write your letters to your kin now. As for you, the good men of Deepwood Motte. Your lord's treason is not a reflection on yourselves and your kin and is his crime alone to pay for. Be at peace and know the King of Winter sees you all as true men of the North. As far from your lord as any man can possibly be."
The words annoyed him greatly and as he was led from the room, he promised to let them be the fuel that won him his life. By the time he reached the room he'd been staying in and was given the parchment to write what may be his final words, he'd calmed somewhat. After he finished the first draft of the letters, he was joined by Wyman Manderly, Howland Reed, and Barbrey Dustin, three of the four who'd have sat in judgment of him had he not called for a different sort of trial. None of them looked at him with any fondness and it was Wyman who reached out to take his letters from him and read them.
"Write these again. I'll not be sending them nor will any man or woman of the North, Robett. Your treason is your own and you'll not sow the seeds for it with your kin." Wyman said.
"I committed no…"
"On the road to Moat Calin, here since you arrived back from there. In conversations with far too many Lords and Ladies to name. Aye, you committed treason, Glover, and each time you spoke it, it was heard. Are you really fool enough to believe that all you said went unnoticed? Did you not see the wolves watching?" Barbrey said, her voice full of disdain.
"I spoke nothing in front of a Stark…" he said only for Howland to interrupt him.
"The wolves, Robett, not those that control them. Ghost, Nymeria, and the pack that she brought with her. All eyes have looked your way and there are enough of us who are not wolves who've heard what you spoke to."
"The Starks, the whore, the bastard….you're in league with all of them." he spat.
"We live up to our oaths, had you then you'd find a different fate. Be sure your kin does not do so." Wyman said, pointing him to the desk.
The second set of letters he wrote was much different, the words far less angry and the call to avenge him should he fall, was removed. Instead, he offered his best words of comfort, his best advice on the future, and told his wife and children he loved them. Once he was done, Wyman again read the letters and this time offered him a nod in return. Then he was left to put on his armor and to make his way to the courtyard where he found a large crowd waiting to see his fate decided.
Looking at Arya Stark, he felt confident. He dwarfed her by some size and where he was armored, she was not. Yet in the first couple of exchanges, it was clear that he was already beat. She moved far too fast for him, his only saving grace was that she had no wish to end him quickly, though mayhap that wasn't truly something he should be pleased about. Each cut hurt and his blood dripped from each and every wound. The small thin sword found gaps in his armor that he knew not were there. Every single time she came in close she'd whisper so that only he could hear as well, her words making it clear who she was doing this for.
"You dared to plot against my brothers."
"Dared to seek their ends."
"Had Rickon not wished you to face your own in such a way or had Jon but heard you once, then you'd already be dead."
"Soon enough you will be and the only thing you'll be saying to the god of death is Today."
It was not to be at her hands that he'd face his end. The blood loss, the cuts, the pain he felt brought about his defeat, and yet it was a yield that he called out and not an agonized last word. Instead, he was brought straight from the courtyard into the Godswood and when he saw the block he breathed a sigh of relief. At least his death was to be clean and he'd meet it in front of his gods. He was soon to find out he was only partly right.
"Lord Robett Glover you've been found guilty of Treason to the North and it's time for you to face your just sentence. Our Way is the Old Way my Lord and Ladies and the man who passes the sentence is the man who swings the sword. All of us in the North know the truth of these words, but we've forgotten those truths too. In the South they take heads, they end things quickly for they have their own gods to appease. This is not the South." Rickon Stark said.
He watched as the young boy king moved towards him, the curved sword in his hand at first making him think he was using one of the savage's blades and he hoped that the North saw how wrong that was, only for it not to be an Arakh and not to be for what he believed it to be that Rickon held such a weapon. His clothing was cut from him, the curved blade making easy work and then he looked on as Sansa Stark handed Rickon an incredible-looking dagger. There was little time to admire it as Rickon moved forward and the pain of the thrust of the dagger almost made Robett not hear the words that were spoken.
"This is the North and the North Remembers!" Rickon called out loudly.
"The North Remembers!"
"The North Remembers!"
The cutting took some time, Robett praying for death or unconsciousness as his stomach was opened and his insides pulled out. He'd never known pain like it and how long it went on for, he knew not, only that not one man or woman moved from the Godswood while it did. When the cut across his throat came, he welcomed it, and as the world dimmed and his heart slowed, he finally realized the truth. Rickon Stark was not who he'd thought him to be and had it been he who'd led them South instead of his brother, then he would have gladly named him his king.