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Just like for the past months I have woken up in the dark. I am here chained and bound along side my pale and golden brother and he is as angry as I am.

How could our mother do this to us. To lock us away in here in the dark and refuse us to fly and hunt in the air where we belong.

Unlike my pale brother I am fortunate, for since I hatched, I have felt my rider even though he is far away from me, he is in a land filled with cold and snow. It is not usual for us to be able to connect with our riders from such a distance but mine is special. He is strong and powerful in magic and that is just as necessary for us to grow strong.

The time has come for us to break out of this infernal darkness and find my rider. My brother will follow me, this I know for our mother has betrayed us both and we will never follow her or our angry brother again.

He may be bigger that Viserion and I for now but the magic in the air where my rider is strong and in abundance. We will soon overtake him in size and strength.

Viserion is looking at me. He knows it is now that we must act and leave this horrible place.

I open my mouth and breath fire on the chain that is holding my brother and it melts away. There is still the issue of the iron collar that is around his neck and there is still some part of the chain hanging from it but he is no longer bound to the wall. Then he returns the favor and I am free of the chain like him.

We face the wall to the northwest and we breath fire at the same time. The wall crumbles down and I see sunlight for the first time in months or maybe even years and I roar in joy alongside Viserion. I take flight, it will be hard going at first but it will get easier soon. We have a long distance to cover and we are have not flown in a long time, but we will get find him and with him we shall grow strong.

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Jon had been having strange dreams of being Ghost for years. Ever since he had gotten him in fact.  The Wildlings or the free folk as they liked to call themselves, called it warging or skinchanging.  They had the ability of entering the minds of animals and controlling them.  Most were scared of the wargs and skinchangers but some thought it a blessing from the old gods.  Jon would dream of hunting stags and other game at night and in the morning, he would see Ghost with a bloody muzzle.  Then he knew it wasn’t a dream. All the stories that old nan and the Free folk told him of people entering the skin of animals were real. 

All his life he had been a curious lad.  He had loved to read and tried to read all the books in the great library at Winterfell before it had been burned to the ground after he had left for the wall.  Jon had succeeded and thanks to his incredible memory he could remember all he had read.  So to no surprise to himself he had to try out the connection he had with his direwolf.

It had been hard going at first but when he had gone undercover beyond the Wall he had gotten better and better at controlling this strange gift. 

But not long after he had started on the Great ranging, he had started getting other dreams.  Even stranger than his wolf dreams. He didn’t know what they were at first but soon he realized that he was dreaming he was a dragon. 

He had been sure for a long time that he was finally losing his mind.

Then he had heard that Daenerys Targaryen, the last Targaryen, had hatched three dragon eggs and birthed dragons back into the world.  That had been when Jon realized that he was warging into one of them.

Jon had learned the name of the dragon he was warging into, his name was Rhaegal, Daenerys had named him after her brother Rhaegar who had sparked Robert´s rebellion by taking Lyanna Stark and died at the Green Fork.

When Jon had realized he was warging into the dragon, he had gone to maester Aemon and tried to ask him questions about dragons and the Dragonlords of old Valyria without giving anything away.  He did not want the old maester to think Jon was losing his mind.

Regrettably maester Aemon didn’t know anything about the subject of dragons and their riders that Jon hadn’t read in the library of Winterfell.

Though after Jon and Aemon had spent a lot of time talking about dragons and related topics, they had formed a close bond.  Jon had come to look at the old Targaryen maester as an uncle.  So, when he returned from Hardhome after rescuing the last of the Free folk he had been devastated to learn that the maester had died of old age. 

His best friend and sworn brother Sam Tarly had dragged Jon with him to go though the maester´s things.

And that was where Jon was now, sitting on the floor of maester Aemon´s quarters and looking through his things and trying to sort though everything.

“We have been at this for hours Sam. Perhaps it is time to take a break and get some dinner and go to sleep.” He had not had any rest since he had come from Hardhome. Sam had whisked him straight away to the maester´s chambers.

“We are almost done, just look in the chest under the bed and then go and get some rest.”

“I thought I was the Lord Commander.” Jon responded with a tired grin but did as Sam asked.

Jon stood up and walked to the bed and got on his knees and looked under the bed.  There in the far corner was a long chest.  It took him sometime to actually reach the chest even though he was tall and long limbed.  The chest was heavy, but he managed to drag it from under the bed.

“How did you know of this chest Sam?” Jon´s eyebrows were drawn together in a frown.

“hummm…oh uh well maester Aemon told me to give this chest to you when he died.  He said that you would most likely be in need of them.” Sam answers with a shrug.

Jon stared at Sam with a frown painted on this face.  What could maester Aemon possibly wanted to give him.

He opened the chest slowly and peaked inside.  He sat on his knees and stared, this could not be possible.  How could Aemon have hid this here at the wall for so long and no one was the wiser.

“What is it? What did maester Aemon leave you?” Sam asked after a little while. When Jon did not answer Sam stood up and looked in the chest.  He stood there silent beside Jon for some time opening and closing his mouth like a landed fish for a good five minutes.

“Where did maester Aemon get four dragon eggs and a Valyrian steel sword?” Sam finally managed to croak out.  “And not just any Valyrian steel sword either, that is Darksister if I am not horribly mistaken.”

“Brynden “the Bloodraven” Rivers came with maester Aemon to the Wall, and he had Darksister at the time.  He must have left it here with maester Aemon when he left beyond the Wall.”

“Yes of course, and this is the Butterwell egg. Brynden Rivers must have taken it with him and left it with maester Aemon.” Sam picked up the egg that was red with golden flecks and black whorls. “They are very pretty, but I wonder why he would give them to you.”

“Ever since I got back to Castle Black he and I have been talking about dragons and everything related to them.” Jon wondered if he could tell Sam about his dreams. They sounded crazy even to him, how could he expect anyone else to believe that he, Jon Snow the bastard of Winterfell to be warging into the dragon that Daenerys Targaryen had hatched on another continent.

“And because of that he decided to give you four dragon eggs and his family´s ancestral sword?” Of course Sam saw through that awful excuse. “I´m not stupid Jon.” Sam was getting irate.

 “I know you are not stupid Sam, I´m sorry. I don’t know why he gave them to me, to be honest.” Jon bit his lip and knew he had to tell Sam the secret that had been gnawing at him for years now. “What I am about to tell you...You can´t tell anyone, do you understand?”

Sam nodded. He looked like Jon was about to confess to a murder. “I have been having these dreams…well not dreams exactly…it is hard to explain.”

Jon walked to the bed and sat down. “You should sit down Sam. This is going to sound crazy.”

“More crazy than an old man giving you four dragon eggs and his ancestral sword instead of sending them to his only living kin?”

“Yes…”

“Alright…”

“You know of warging right…the thing that some of the Freefolk can do. You know control animals and seeing with their eyes?” Sam nodded looking skeptical and a little bit worried.

“Well I can do that too, I have been doing that with Ghost since I got him and that is how I can control him like I do.” Sam nodded again and seemed to realize something.

“Is that how all the raven and horses are so calm when you are near? They know you are a… warg?” Now it was Jon´s turn to look puzzled. The ravens and the horses were calm in his presence? How come he never noticed that?

“I don’t know, maybe but I have never noticed that other animals besides Ghost being calm in my presence.” Jon shook his head and refocused. “But that is not the point. Ever since we left on the ranging beyond the Wall I have been having different warging dreams than the dreams with Ghost, I am someone or something else.” Sam said nothing and waited for Jon to continue explaining.

“I think I am warging into one of Daenerys Targaryen´s dragons.” Jon couldn’t meet Sam´s eyes. He didn’t want to see the horror in his eyes when he realized that Jon had lost his mind.

After a few minutes of silence Jon gathered the courage to look his friend in the eye.  Sam was once again doing a remarkable impression of a fish. Maybe he should not have sprung the news  on him.

“I know it´s sounds crazy and you don’t believe me but I swear to you I am not lying or making this up.” And still the silence stretched on.  Jon was realized that he had made a huge mistake, and now because of his desire to confide in someone about him warg into the dragon, he was losing a friend.

Jon stood up abruptly. “Nevermind Sam, forget I said anything.” He tried to walk out the door, but Sam stopped him.

“I believe you Jon.” Jon turned slow towards Sam with disbelieve written all over his face. “I mean you are right, it sounds completely mental, but you have never been exactly normal.” He said with a nervous laugh.

“And if anyone is going to warg into a dragon on the other side of the world, it is you” Jon just stared at his friend. “And to be honest it kind of explains why you always know all the news of Daenerys Targaryen before the rest of us and in such a great detail. And I have never known you to lie about anything.”

Jon had never been more grateful for having Sam as a friend than in that moment. He could feel tears start to build up in his eyes, he refused to let them fall and willed them away. “Thank you, Sam.” He could hardly speak because of the lump in his throat.

Sam put the Butterwell egg back into the chest and closed it. “Here you should take the chest and get some rest.” Sam could barely lift the chest so Jon walked towards him and took the chest from his arms. It was heavy but he could manage it well enough. Jon turned to leave the chamber, but Sam stopped him again.

“Jon, you know I will always believe you, no matter what. You could tell me that you are a grumpkin in a disguise and I would not doubt it for a second.” Sam said with his impish smile. “Now that I think about it, you being a grumpkin makes a lot of sense.”

Jon couldn’t help but to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. He bid Sam goodnight and left for his own chambers to sleep for what felt for the first time in years with a lighter heart than before.

A few days later, Jon was sitting at his desk in the solar of the Lord Commander.  Sam had already left for the citadel with Gilly and little Sam, and Jon was taking a break from planning what to do with the abandoned castles of the Wall.

Like most nights after he and Sam had found the dragon eggs and Darksister, he was starring at the eggs that lay in the chest.  He had placed the chest by the fire so he could look at them in the evening.  Jon could not explain why he had the overwhelming need to stare at the eggs for hours at a time. It was like they were calling to him, demanding his time and attention.

The eggs had turned to stone, but they glittered like jewels in the light of the fire.  The egg that he and Sam guessed was the Butterwell egg, shone red with golden flecks with black whorls. That egg had been made famous for being the prize in a tourney many years ago when Aegon the fifth had been a child and a squire for Ser Duncan the Tall.

Maester Aemon had told him that he himself had been given the beautiful blue egg that was adorned with whorls of bronze.  That egg had been laid in his cradle but obviously had never hatched. But maester Aemon had never shown Jon the egg, but it was however unmistakably his.

The other eggs were not so easily identifiable.  But he was sure that the egg that was silver colored with steaks of gold was the egg of Elaena Targaryen.  One of Baelor the blessed´s sisters. Her egg had been famous for matching her silver hair that had been streaked with gold.

The last egg was pale green with swirls of silver that looked like molten rivers running all over the fossilized egg.  There were a few candidates that came to mind but he couldn’t be sure.

He didn’t know how long he had been staring at the eggs, when the doors of his solar burst open with a bang, effectively pulling Jon out of his trance.

Olly stood in the doorway, panting and sweating. “What is it Olly?”

“You have to come outside Lord Commander, there is a ranger that came from beyond the Wall. He says he has news of your uncle Benjen!” Jon stood abruptly from his chair and raced down the stairs with Olly on his heels.  In the courtyard some of the sworn brothers had gathered in a circle, effectively blocking someone from view.

“Over here Lord Commander!” One of his brothers called.

Jon pushed through the wall of men only to find no ranger returning from beyond the Wall but a sign.

A cold chill ran down his spine, and for a moment he could not comprehend the situation.

TRAITOR

That was the only thing that was written on the sign, and it was written in blood red paint.

Then there was pain in his back. Jon turned around and stared wide eyed at the men surrounding him. Ser Alliser Thorne, Bowen Marsh, Wick Wittlestick and Olly. They were the men closest to him. Jon could barely breath from the pain in his back and he looked down and saw that Ser Alliser was holding a bloody knife in his hand. He had stabbed him in the back.

Again Ser Alliser thrust his knife in Jon, but this time it was in the belly. Jon staggered but did not fall. Another knife pierced him, this time it was Bowen Marsh who had stabbed him.  Bowen was crying and muttered “For the Watch.”

“Why?” was all Jon could manage to get out of his mouth that wasn’t blood.

“For the Watch” and a knife in the chest was the only replay he got as he fell to his knees in agony. His chest, belly and back were all on fire. It felt like someone had doused him in wildfire and the pain was unbearable.

Then all he felt was cold and numb, he looked up at his murderers sluggishly. “Ghost…” Then Olly stepped forward and thrust a dagger right into his heart and the cold overtook him and everything turned black.

Chapter Text

He was flying though the night, he felt the chilly night air of the North, but the cold of the North was not enough to cool his rage. He had never felt this way before in his short life. Not even when his mother had betrayed him and his brother and locked them in the dark.

They had hurt his rider. No, they had killed him, and he would get his revenge. He would burn them all. He would rain such fire down upon them like never had been seen before and never would be seen again.

He had felt fear for the first time in his life when the connection with his rider had gone out. A dragon was not meant to feel fear, but that had given away to the anger almost immediately, and he had resolved to fly over to the place that his rider was and lay waste to the ones that dared to hurt his rider.

He felt Viserion close behind him. His brother could feel his rage at the injustice of being so close to his rider and having someone snatch him away, when Rhaegal was so close to claiming him.

But then he felt it, where before had been an ember, now there was a roaring dragonfire. His connection with his rider was back and it was stronger than before. His rider was alive again. He felt hope rekindle in his heart.

He had to find him quickly before someone could hurt him again.

Everything was dark all around him. Despite the soothing, warm darkness that he felt. He could feel rage and fear. Why was he so angry and afraid? It was warm, peaceful and tranquil here, why should he be angry?

And then with a loud crack, the world shattered. The peace was gone, never to return again. There was another crack heard close by and his eyes flew open. He could see smoke from a fire that seemed all around him, and turned the stars blood red.

The third crack was heard along with chirping. He could also hear someone crying. It was a loud sobbing of someone grieving a passing of a loved one.

At the fourth crack he realized that he was lying on a pyre. There was something crawling on him, several somethings in fact.

Bronze eyes looked at him as if to tell him it was time to get up and stop lying about. The eyes belonged to blue creature that could only be a very small dragon. Jon manage to sit up and the little blue dragon was now in his lap. The blue dragon had bronze colored horns crawled to his shoulder to make room for three other little dragons. One was a beautiful shimmering silver with golden horns, the third was red with golden horns and eyes, with a little hint of black amongst the red. The last one was a pale green with streaks of silver all over his body.

The four little dragons were crawling all over him and chirping and letting out small shrikes. He could hardly believe that he had a dragon on his shoulder and three other dragons in his lap. Jon looked around and saw fire all round him. But the fire wasn’t burning him, it was comforting and warm. It seemed to lick his skin but strangely it didn’t burn him. No, the fire was making him stronger then ever before.

It stirred a memory, not his own, but a memory that belonged to another. Then it hit him like a Morningstar. The memory belonged to Rhaegal, his very first memory, it was from when he and his brothers were hatched. They too had been hatched on a pyre when Daenerys Targaryen had burned the body of her husband.

Then Jon realized the horrible truth. He wasn’t angry or afraid, Rhaegal was, and he was coming here to avenge him, with fire and blood.

He had to move quickly, he had to stop Rhaegal from burning Castle Black to ash and everyone with it.

He closed his eyes and for the first time he tried to consciously warg into Rhaegal. It was strange and different from Ghost but at the same time it was familiar and surprisingly easy, like the dragon was welcoming him. Jon managed to calm Rhaegal enough to get the dragons to hide an hour´s ride from Castle Black, but he had to assure Rhaegal that Jon would come to him very soon. He didn’t want anyone to know he had two large dragons yet, the four small ones were shocking enough for now.

He put the silver and golden dragon on his other shoulder and gathered the pale green one and the red and golden one in his arms and stood up. He had to get of this pyre, he looked around and saw to his right was a possible way down. But it was hard to see anything through the blazing inferno.

He spied a place that he could use to get down of the pyre. He took one step, and then another and another until he stumbled ungracefully out of the pyre. Jon looked around and saw fearful, grieve struck faces of his sworn brothers. Ser Davos was also here along with Stannis´s red witch and a handful of Baratheon men. Everyone was looking at him in fear and disbelieve. Jon looked at the group assembled in the courtyard.

Then he saw her, she had grown taller since he last saw her and even more beautiful. She was flanked by an incredibly tall woman with blonde hair, a young man with dark hair and Ghost.

“…Sansa?” He could only whisper. Jon tried to take another step towards her, but he fell on one knee in the snow, and that seemed to break the spell of shocked silence in the courtyard. While he knew the fire had made him stronger that before, he felt disoriented and a little lightheaded. Coming back from the dead was hard work, but the lightheadedness would wear off soon, that much he knew.

Then the red woman fell to her knees and started to loudly pray to her red god and the Baratheon men with her.

But Sansa ran towards him, crying as she fell to her knees in front of him. She grasped his face with her hands and pulled him to her chest. Dragons and all.

“I thought you were dead, Jon.” She sobbed into his curly, dark hair.

Before he could replay, something started to lick the side of his face that was not buried in Sansa´s clothes. Jon managed to look at Ghost, who was making soft whines.

Jon heard someone else approach them in a hurry. “My lady, we must get him inside. He will freeze out here.” The voice belonged to a woman. It must have been the woman that had stood at Sansa´s side when Jon walked out of the fire.

It was only then that Sansa realized that all of Jon´s clothes were gone, if the speed of her pushing him away with a blush was anything to go by.

Ser Davos had come to Jon´s side and was trying to put a cloak around his shoulders but was having a hard time of it because of the dragons that were perched on them. Then Ser Davos decided to try to put the cloak under the dragons, much to their irritation. The silver one decided to climb on Jon´s head to get away from Ser Davos and his cloak, the silver one´s climb up his head was very painful for Jon as the little dragon pulled on his hair to get up, but the blue one was calmer and let Ser Davos put the cloak on Jon´s shoulders. But he never took his eyes of Ser Davos while he was doing it.

Meanwhile Tormund had appeared at Jon´s side and together with Ser Davos they helped Jon back to his chamber. The dragons were hissing and chirping all the way there. The silver dragon had decided that it was safe to come down to his shoulder again, much to Jon´s relieve, and was chirping angerly in his ear.

They finally made it to Jon´s chambers and he was helped to sit on his bed. He put the little dragons on the bed beside him. Ghost could apparently not contain his curiosity anymore and paddled over to the dragons and started to sniff at them. They tried to snap at his snout, but Jon gave them a quick flick on the nose for their trouble. “No, don’t threaten Ghost.” He said to them and gave them an angry stare. To his surprise and everyone else´s in the room the dragons listened to him.

He looked at the people gather in his room. “Could I maybe get some clothes, and some cooked meat for the dragons?” He asked, his throat was filled with ash, he noticed, and his voice sounded unsurprisingly dry and raspy. Satin his steward jumped up to fetch him some clothes and Ser Davos hurried out of his room, presumably to get the meat he asked for.

Jon looked at Sansa and saw her blush go even deeper. “We will wait outside while you get changed.” She said in a small voice and hurried out of the room. He couldn’t help but to stare after her. He had never been so glad to see anyone before in his life.
But how was she here, all he knew of her fate was that he had disappeared from King´s Landing when Joffrey was murdered.

His thoughts were interrupted by Satin handing him new clothes. He hurried putting them on as best he could, but every muscle in his body was stiff and it was like he had never used them before. When he was done dressing, he sat back down again. Satin let everyone back into his chambers.

Sansa stepped in first. Before he could stop himself, he had stood back up from his bed and closed the distance between them and hugged her. He noticed that even as tall as she was, he was a head taller than she was and he could comfortably bury his nose in her hair if he so chose. After a little while, he took a step back and held her at arm´s length, he gave her a small sad smile. “I thought you were dead.”

Her ocean blue eyes were filled with unshed tears. “I thought you had died.” She replayed.

“I did.”

She stared at him confused. “Then how…” Jon just shook his head, he had no answers to that question. “I don’t know.”

Before anything else could be said, Ser Davos entered Jon´s chamber and Jon was pulled out of the moment. He also noticed that Edd had come to join them and the room was staring to get a little crowded. He cleared his throat and accepted the dish filled with meat. “Thank you, Ser Davos.” Jon turned to feed the dragons when a thought entered his head. “Who put the egg´s on the pyre?” Jon asked and looked at the people in the room. Everyone looked at Satin and he had his answer. Jon raised his eyebrows and the question was clear even though no word was spoken. Why.

“Well after you got the eggs, you started to behave strangely, you started to talk in your sleep when I came in to your solar to clean and you were saying weird things.” Jon continued to stare at him and saying nothing.

“It was really strange and you kind of frightened me, to be honest. You were talking about fire and blood, and how the eggs needed to be put in the fire. Yes, I know it is a strange leap to make, to put them on your funeral pyre, but it seemed the right thing to do. You seemed so concerned with them and I thought you wanted to have them with you when you were gone.” Satin seemed really embarrassed.

“Wait, why were you sleeping in your solar Jon?” Sansa stared at Jon with accusation written clearly on her face. Now it was Jon´s turn to be embarrassed. But when he looked at Sansa´s face he could not help but be transported back to his childhood. She looked exactly like her mother, well a more beautiful version of her, but the resemblance was uncanny. He cleared his throat and turned to his dragons and started to feed them. “We´ll talk about that later.”

“Yes, we will Jon Snow.”

He heard Tormund and Ser Davos snicker behind him, and he felt his face start to turn a nice crimson.

“And where did you get the dragon egg´s?” Sansa asked after Tormund and Davos managed to get their laughter under control. That question had everyone listing with undivided attention.

“Maester Aemon left them for me, and before anyone asks, I don’t know why.” Sansa frowned but nodded.

Ser Davos cleared his throat. “We have all had a long day. Perhaps we should continue this on the morrow?” Sansa looked like she was about to protest, but the tall woman beside her intervened. “My lady, we just came to Castle Black and you have had a long and hard journey, you need rest.”

Jon now noticed the clothes Sansa wore, they didn’t look anything like a highborn lady would wear, no they looked more at home on a handmaiden or a servant than on a daughter of Eddard Stark. He couldn’t help the frown that appeared on his face.

Sansa relented and gave a curt nod. Jon turned to Satin. “Satin, could you find them suitable chambers to stay in?” Satin nodded and hurried to follow his command. Sansa and her companions turned to follow him, but Jon stopped them. “Sansa, you umm…you should take Ghost with you.” She looked like she was going to protest. “Please, Sansa I would feel better if you have him with you.”

Sansa gave him a small smile and nodded, and Ghost followed her and her friends out the door. When everyone left, Jon sat on his bed again and slumped against the wall, besides his new dragons.

Chapter Text

Sansa´s road had been long and hard. She was so incredibly tired and hungry, but she did not want to stop. She was almost there. She was almost safe. She had to see him, the only family she knew the location of. She knew that even though she had been cold and mean to him as a child that he wouldn’t turn her away. That had never been him. Jon had always been so kind to her even when she was being a brat to him.

She could see Castle Black now. She had heard in Winterfell that he was now the Lord Commander of the Night´s Watch. She also knew that many of the North were angry at him for letting the wildling through the wall. She knew that Ramsey would use that to try to get rid of Jon. He would say that Jon was going to let the Wildlings murder and rape as much as they wanted, and that Jon had to be killed to stop him.

She could not let that happen, she had to save Jon.

When they arrived at the gate of Castle Black, the castle was very quiet. It was like someone had died.

A black brother looked over the castle wall and asked who they were. Lady Brienne answered that they were travelers coming to talk with Lord Commander Snow. The man´s face fell, and he ordered the gate open. The courtyard was not only filled with sad looking black brothers, but they were greatly outnumbered by wildlings, who were also looking sorrowful.

They meet the man in the other side of the wall. The man was thin with grey hair and looked very dour.

“You are looking for Lord Commander Jon Snow?” Brienne nodded. “Then I regret to inform you that the Lord Commander has passed.”

Sansa felt her world shatter. Her last known family member was gone. She felt her insides turn to ice and a strangled sob tried to work it´s way up her throat.

“This is my Lady Sansa of house Stark, the Lord Commander´s own sister.” Brienne said. The man´s eyes widened.

“I am sorry for your loss my Lady. We are now preparing for his funeral. So, if you want to say your goodbyes, I can lead you to his chambers.” Sansa nodded and dismounted her horse. Brienne and Podrick hurried after her as they followed the Night´s Watchman. They followed him to the Lord Commander´s solar. It was a small solar, smaller than she would guess, sense it was the solar of the Lord Commanders.

There he was, her last brother. Theon had said that he had not killed Bran and Rickon, but for how long could they have survived the wilds of the North, when their older brothers didn’t survive being surrounded with loyal men.

Jon was laying on a table, she could have thought he was sleeping if not for the holes in his black clothing, and the mournful whimpers of Ghost who was laying on the ground by the table. She walked slowly to Jon´s body as if not to disturb him. He was covered in blood, but that did not stop her from touching his cheek. He was cold to the touch and all she wanted to do was to shake him until he woke.

“Pardon me, my Lady.” Sansa jumped at the melodious voice. She had been so distracted by Jon´s dead body that she did not see a young man sitting close by. “Are you Jon´s sister?” he asked.

Sansa nodded and tried to dry her tears, but more came instead. “How…” she had to ask, she had to know. “How did he die?”

The young man looked grim. “He was betrayed. Their where some of the men who were not happy that Jon saved the wildlings at Hardhome. And then let them come through the wall. So, they lured him out and stabbed him. But Edd, one of the loyal to Jon went to get the wildlings and we arrested them and put them in the ice cells. We are going to execute them after the funeral.”

Jon had been betrayed? Just like father, just like Robb, just like Bran and Rickon. Was it every Stark´s man destiny to betrayed by the men they trusted? Before she could replay someone walked into the room. Sansa had never met this woman before, but she knew her immediately by her the way she looked.

She was tall and beautiful, she had long red hair and was wearing a crimson gown that must not have been very warm and she had a red ruby fastened on a choker. Even her eyes were the color of red. She had heard many stories of Stannis´s red woman, and all her witchcraft, when she was stuck as a hostage in the Red keep.

“Are you Melisandre of Asshai? Sansa asked just to be sure. The woman nodded but she was looking at Jon. Had they known each other well? Where they lovers? At that thought she felt something crawl in her belly. She shook her head to clear her head of that thought.

Then three others entered the room. One of them was the night´s watchman from before, the dour one. The other two were not from the night´s watch. One was an older man who had a beard and was starting to lose his hair, and the other one was clearly a wildling. He was tall and had crazy red hair and beard.

“Milady.” Said the older man and nodded to her. Then he turned to the red woman. “Is there anything you can do for him?” This got Sansa´s undivided attention. Were they going to try some crazy spell to bring her brother back?

“I don’t know Ser Davos.” So, this was the famous Onion Knight. The man who had saved Stannis Baratheon at the siege of Storm´s End. “But I will try.”

The Red woman walked over to Jon and beaconed the young man to help her. She asked the dour man to fetch water, then she and the young man started to undress Jon´s body. Sansa averted her eyes. Even though he was gone, she wanted to help preserve Jon´s modesty.

After some time, Sansa dared to look to see if they were done. They had finished undressing him and had put a small cover over his…male parts. What she saw shocked her. His chest and belly were covered in holes. Ugly stab wounds covered him and the cruelest one was over his heart like someone had stuck the knife in and twisted it. She could feel the tears start to build in her eyes.

The nights watchman came back with the water, and the Red woman started her ritual. It was the longest minutes of Sansa´s life. She stood there and stared as the woman worked and chanted in another language.

But it was all for naught. The red priestess stopped, and Jon was still laying there, dead. She had long sense stopped believing in fairytales and songs but a part of her had hoped that some god would take pity and return Jon to her. Everyone left the room, but her and the young man.

“My Lady, we should prepare him for the funeral now.” It was the young man again. She looked at him, but she could barely make him out from all the tears in her eyes wanting to come out.

“What is your name?” She asked. “Satin, I am…was the Lord Commander´s steward.” He replayed quietly.

“Satin, do you… do you mind leaving me alone with him, just for a little while?” Satin gave her a kind smile and nodded. “I will be back later with some clothes for him to wear.”

Sansa nodded as Satin left. He had barely closed the door, when Sansa broke out in sobs. She closed the distance between her and Jon and buried her face into his chest and cried. She had come so far to reach him only to find him dead and gone. She had come looking for her last brother only to find out that someone had taken him away from her. Cruelly murdered him in cold blood.

Her good, kind Jon, who no matter how she had treated him growing up, had always given her a kind smile and a gentle word.

She didn’t know how long she stayed there, crying into Jon´s chest, it could have been years for all she knew. But all too soon, Satin came back with the clothes that Jon would be dressed in.

She helped Satin as best she could, but she was to grief stricken to be of much help. She sat down into the chair by the lord commander´s desk. That is when she saw something strange.

In a chest by the fireplace, there were four colorful stones. They were beautiful and the light of the flames reflected in the hard surface of the stones.

“Where did Jon get these?” Sansa asked. Satin turned to her and shook his head. “I don’t know my lady. One day they just where here when I was cleaning, and it is not my place to question the Lord Commander.”

Silence fell over them while Satin continued his work, but when he was finished, he turned to her. He looked like he was troubled and wanted to say something.

“What is it?” Sansa finally asked.
“It´s just that…the eggs… well they had a weird hold on him.” Sansa could see that it had been on the young man´s mind for some time. She nodded at him to go on. “Well ever sense he got the eggs, it´s like they were always on his mind you see. He was even dreaming about them. Once when I came to clean, he was talking in his sleep and he was saying over and over again, fire and blood and put them in the fire.” Satin was quiet for a while but then he spoke again. “I was thinking that maybe we should put them on the pyre with him. I think that they meant much to him, and maybe that they should be with him when he goes.”

Sansa looked at the eggs. For some strange reason she agreed with Satin, if they had meant so much to Jon, they should be with him. It was a strange feeling that went against everything that Queen Cersei and Littlefinger had taught her. To burn four valuable dragon eggs instead of selling them to buy an army. They would have never allowed such folly, but she was not them and she didn’t own the eggs. Jon did, and they should be with him.

She nodded her consent. Nothing more was said and then the men who had left the room before came back. They were getting ready to move Jon. She hurried out of the room and meet Brienne and Podrick, who were waiting just outside. It had turned dark and the stars and the moon were shining bright.

“They are ready for the Lord Commander, my lady.” Brienne said quietly. They went ahead to the courtyard where the pyre had been built and waited with the rest of the black brothers. No one seemed to pay much mind to Sansa and her companions, the night´s watchmen were grieving and didn’t seem to care that two women had joined them in the courtyard. For the first time she noticed that among the Night´s watchmen and the wildling, there were also a few Baratheon men. They must have been the survivors from Stannis´s army, she thought to herself.

Then they came down with Jon´s body. He was carried on a wooden plank that had handles attached to it so the men could carry it easier. Satin followed after them with the eggs in his arms.

The men put Jon on the pyre and Satin put the eggs around him, then they stepped of the pyre. The dour faced man stepped forward with Satin. He was holding torch four torches and handed Satin one and then two other men Sansa had not seen before. They lighted them up before the first man spoke. But Sansa had stopped paying attention. The only thing she saw was Jon´s body laying there.

Then she felt something large and warm move next to her. It was Ghost, Jon´s direwolf. She hadn’t noticed before, her thoughts being consumed with the loss of her brother, but he was unbelievably big. He was the size of a small horse and she guessed if he let it, a small child could easily use him for a mount. He looked her in the eye and gave her a sad whine, she put her hand on his neck for support, to get through this she was going to need all she could get.

She turned back to the pyre, they were now lighting it. She tried to hold it in, but she couldn’t. It started out small, but the sobs grew and grew. It didn’t take long until she stopped caring that there where people around. All she cared about was that she would never get to talk to Jon again, to ask him to forgive her of how she had treated him growing up, she would never get to reminisce of life in Winterfell with him, before they left.

She must have been standing there for some time, crying, sobbing and staring into the flames when it happened.

Jon´s ash covered figure stepped out of the flames. He stepped out of the flames alive and holding two small dragons and had two on his shoulders. She stood there frozen, she couldn’t even breath, she didn’t believe her own eyes. It must be a dream she thought. Dead men don’t step out of flames with dragons. Not in real life, maybe in songs but never in real life.

“…Sansa?” His voice was a whisper, but she heard him. Then he fell on one knee, and it was like a spell was broken. She rushed to him, not caring that running wasn’t lady like. She knew vaguely that there was some commotion behind her, but all she cared about was Jon was alive and well. She fell down before him and hugged his head to her face.

“I thought you were dead, Jon.” She managed to sob into his hair, while he smelled of ash, to her his smell brought nothing but thoughts of Winterfell when it had been a home, of safety and if love could have a smell, it would smell like Jon.

Ghost had followed her to show his happiness that Jon was alive, he was licking the side of his face, and she could feel the heat of the dragons through her clothes.

“My lady, we must get him inside. He will freeze out here.” That brought reality crashing down on her. She was kneeling in the dirt and snow in the courtyard of Castle Black, hugging her formally dead, but now very naked brother, in front of everyone. She pushed him away with a blush, and she was sure that her face was going to catch on fire.

Ser Davos came to them and was trying to putt a cloak around Jon´s shoulders, much to the annoyance of the little dragons. The silver one hurried to climb on top of Jon´s head, but the blue and bronze one let the knight put the cloak on Jon. But he didn’t look happy with the knight.

The wild haired man and Ser Davos helped him to his feet and guided him back to his chambers. Sansa and her companions followed them. They arrived in his room and the men helped him sit on his bed and he put the dragons on his bed beside him.

Then Ghost came, and with a direwolfs infinite curiosity had to go and sniff at them. The dragons started to hiss and snap at his snout. But Jon flicked at their noses. “No, don’t threaten Ghost.” To everyone´s surprise they listened to Jon and looked like children when they had been chastised.

Jon looked at everyone gathered in his small room “Could I maybe get some clothes, and some cooked meat for the dragons?” He asked, his voice rough and raspy. Sansa had never been as happy to hear a voice before in her live. She had heard it whisper her name before, but she had been so shocked that she hadn’t had the time to appreciate his northern accent and even though it was raspy, it was the sweetest sound she had ever heard.

Ser Davos and Satin rushed to follow his request. Then he looked at her, and she remembered that he was still naked under that cloak. “We will wait outside while you get changed.” She hoped that her voice wasn’t as small as she thought it had been. Then she hurried out of the room with Brienne and Podrick after her.

For the first time sense Jon stepped out of the pyre, she looked at them. They both looked like they had seen ghosts. Not that she was surprised. It wasn’t everyday that one sees a dead man step out of a burning pyre with four small dragons. It must have been a short time they had to wait for Satin to let them in, but for Sansa, it was an eternity.

She hurried into the room, but before she could say or do anything, Jon had her wrapped up in a hug. She couldn’t remember feeling so safe or so warm before. She wanted it to last forever. Too soon he stepped back and held her at arms-length. “I thought you were dead.”

“I thought you had died.” She replayed with tears in her eyes yet again.

“I did.” That answer didn’t help any.

“Then how…” Jon just shook his head. “I don’t know.” Then who did?

Before they could continue, Ser Davos and the dour faced man entered the room. Jon took the meat filled dish and thanked him. He turned to the dragons and then he turned to them again. “Who put the egg´s on the pyre?” He asked.

Everyone turned to Satin, who looked like he didn’t want to be there. “Well after you got the eggs, you started to behave strangely, you started to talk in your sleep when I came in to your solar to clean and you were saying weird things.” Jon continued to stare at him and saying nothing.

“It was really strange and you kind of frightened me, to be honest. You were talking about fire and blood, and how the eggs needed to be put in the fire. Yes, I know it is a strange leap to make, to put them on your funeral pyre, but it seemed the right thing to do. You seemed so concerned with them and I thought you wanted to have them with you when you were gone.” Satin seemed really embarrassed.

That had not followed the story when Satin had told her about this before. Was he working too hard? Was he not taking care of himself? “Wait, why were you sleeping in your solar Jon?” She asked. Jon looked like a deer that had just spotted a hunter. He cleared his throat. “We´ll talk about that later.”

“Yes, we will Jon Snow.” She said his surname to make sure that she was not happy that he wasn’t taking care of himself properly. That would be changing right now.

She heard snickering behind her. But she had to ask. “And where did you get the dragon egg´s?” The ones snickering stopped and listen to this part of the conversation with great attention.

“Maester Aemon left them for me, and before anyone asks, I don’t know why.” Sansa frowned but nodded.

Ser Davos cleared his throat. “We have all had a long day. Perhaps we should continue this on the morrow?” Sansa wanted to protest but Brienne intervened. “My lady, we just came to Castle Black and you have had a long and hard journey, you need rest.” She hated it when someone used logic against her when she really wanted something. Like Jon to answer all her questions. But Brienne was right, and it was late. Jon had also just come back from the dead and probably needed rest. So, she gave in and nodded.

Jon asked Satin to find them some place warm to sleep in.

They turned to leave Jon´s room but he stopped them. “Sansa, you umm…you should take Ghost with you.” She was about to object, couldn’t he see he needed all the protection he could get?

“Please, Sansa I would feel better if you have him with you.” When he said that and paired it with his puppydog eyes, she couldn’t say no. She doubted anyone could. So, she gave him a small smile and Ghost followed her out the door to find appropriate sleeping quarters for the foreseeable future.

Chapter Text

JON

Jon was staring at his dragons, waiting for everyone to calm down from the excitement of the evening and go to bed. He didn’t want anyone to follow him when he went to meet Rhaegal and Viserion for the first time. A part of him wanted no one to get hurt if he couldn’t control them, but a more selfish part of him wanted to keep them to himself, just for a while. But he knew that he couldn’t. He would need them before long.

His new dragons had just finished eating. And were now yawning. It must be tiring work, being born. It was so strange watching them on his bed, he felt something swell in his chest. He felt happy just looking at them doing normal things. Like eating and trying and failing to keep themselves awake.

He knelt down before the bed and looked at his little dragons. “Alright, I am going to have to go, but I will be back soon. You guys will behave and be quiet until I return, alright?”

He had to admit, he would have felt a little silly, talking to dragons. If he hadn’t been inside the head of Rhaegal since he had been hatched, he would have thought himself mad. Jon knew better that anyone that dragons understood what was spoken to them.
Even in the common tongue.

All the dragons were looking at him in silence, and he knew that they had understood. But he wondered if they would obey him. He stood up and with a last, be good, he left the room.

The night was cool, and the moon and the stars were shining bright. As he was looking at the stars, he had a thought. He had to name his young dragons. He would have to give that some thought. But now he had to meet the other two dragons on Westeros.

He walked to the stables and found his horse. His fifteen-year old bay gelding had served him faithfully over the years. He could still remember when his father gave him the horse as a name-day present. He had been so happy getting him.

He saddled his horse and lead him to the gate. The black brother standing by the gate looked at Jon with wonder and worry. He had most likely been one of many to see him step out of the burning pyre. The man was one of the new one´s that had not yet taken his vows yet. Jon wasn’t sure what his name was.

“I need to go, but I will be back in a few hours.” Jon said to the man. The man nodded and his eyes were wide.

The man went to open the gate, and Jon mounted his horse and rode out. Jon could feel the connection between him and Rhaegal. The pull was getting stronger and stronger with every step the horse took.

It took him an hour to get close to the dragons. he dismounted his horse and tied him to a tree close by. He would walk the rest of the way. He was very nervous. He was finally meeting Rhaegal, his dragon.

Jon enter the clearing, and the sight before him took his breath away.

The dragons that he had hatched this very night were the size of large cats. But the two dragons before him were definitely not the size of cats.

The Cream and gold one, Viserion he knew from Rhaegal´s memories, was the smallest one of the three Daenerys had hatched in Essos. But he had grown, by now he looked to be around sixty feet long from snout to the tip of his tail. But Rhaegal, who was the color of emeralds and bronze was even bigger.

The cream and gold dragon was only 2/3 of Rhaegal´s size. Jon knew as if by some long forgotten memory that the dragons would grow quicker the closer they were to him physically and mentally. That long forgotten memory also told him that Rhaegal´s would grow even quicker that any dragon now living. It did take Jon a moment to realize that the knowledge of how quickly the dragons would grow didn’t belong to him, but to Rhaegal.

Rhaegal´s was so excited to see him, that in his rush over to Jon, he almost ran over his brother. Viserion made a sound that sounded like an irritated growl and shook his head. Jon could have sworn he saw the dragon roll his eyes.

The great green dragon was now breathing in Jon´s scent. He could feel Rhaegal´s happiness at seeing him and he couldn’t help but to smile. The dragon reminded him of Ghost when they hadn’t seen each other in a long time.

Jon put his hand on Rhaegal´s snout. He felt something snap into place at the act. Like the connection between them had been half formed, even though it was incredibly strong, but now it was in full force. It was like all of Jon´s senses were amplified. He felt like he, himself was better just by being in Rhaegal´s presence.

He closed his eyes and let all the new senses and feelings wash over him. From the happiness of the dragon, to the coarseness of the scales of his body and the heat he felt as he touched the dragon´s snout.

When Jon opened his eyes, he looked straight into Rhaegal´s eyes. The green dragon was looking at him expectantly. Jon knew exactly what the dragon wanted.

Jon walked over to the dragon´s neck, there was a collar of iron around it. It looked like it was getting too tight for him as he had clearly been growing since he and his brother escaped Meereen. There was a pin that was holding the collar together. Jon grasped it and pulled. The pin slid out and the collar came crashing to the ground. Rhaegal made a happy screeching sound and shook his head and neck at finally being free of the collar.

Viserion came closer to them and looked at Jon hopefully as a dragon could. The pale dragon lowered his head and neck for Jon to reach the pin that was holding his collar together. Soon Viserion´s iron collar had followed Rhaegal´s to the ground. Then Jon felt Rhaegal´s snout bump gently into his back. Jon turned to Rhaegal.

Jon looked at the dragon as he lowered his shoulder so Jon could climb onto his back. Jon felt a face splitting grin form on his face, and his hands shook with excitement. For the first time in his life, Jon was going for a dragonride.

The climb up was surprisingly easy and the dragon radiated so much heat that most people would have thought it unbearable to be sitting on the dragon. But to Jon, it felt warm and comforting like the burning pyre he had stepped out of. When Jon made himself comfortable on Rhaegal´s back, the emerald and bronze dragon kicked off the ground.

All the air fled Jon´s lungs as they rouse into the night sky. Because the moonlight was so bright Jon could see a lot more than he had expected. Jon couldn’t help but to admire the North as it as bathed in the silver moonlight. Then he heard a noise and looked back to see what it was. Viserion had joined them in the sky.

He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, he didn’t think that he had ever been this happy as the larger than life dragons soared through the night sky. Jon could see over the Wall and into the true North as the freefolk called it, and the stars looked like millions of diamonds on a blanket of ebony.

The world had turned so small and all the worries that had been plaguing him had been blown away with the cold northern wind. He felt like for the first time in his life, as Rhaegal climbed through the clouds, that nothing could hurt him.

As they were flying, the dragons were completely silent. It was like they knew that he didn’t want anyone to hear them. Jon didn’t try to control Rhaegal, he instead let the dragon fly like he wanted to, but Jon was sure that Rhaegal would carryout any command that Jon gave him. Just like when Jon had stopped him from coming to Castle Black and burning everyone and everything.

They were flying for hours most likely, but for Jon it was all to soon that they had to return to the clearing that Rhaegal and Viserion had been using. Dawn would be breaking soon, and he had to return to Castle Black.

He dismounted from Rhaegal´s back, and stroked the dragon´s neck. Rhaegal closed his eyes in satisfaction. Jon could more feel that hear Viserion land behind him. He come close enough to touch. He looked at the pale dragon behind him and gave him a rub on the snout. Viserion seemed to appreciate that, if the sounds he made that reminded Jon of a purring cat, were anything to go by.

SANSA

She woke up slowly a few hours after dawn. She didn’t have a good night, but that wasn’t to be expected. Every night sense her wedding night, she had nightmares, and she never slept for very long. But having Ghost by her side had been much better. When she had woken up, she had seen the great white direwolf laying beside her. She had used him as a frightened child uses a teddy bear.

Jon´s direwolf had taken the indignity with patience and grace. He had been such a comfort to her that night. She was very tempted to ask Jon if Ghost could stay with her indefinitely. Jon being who he is, would probably agree.

Sansa got up to get dressed. She hadn’t dared to take of her dress, but she had taken her cloak of her shoulders. She also didn’t have any extra clothes with her, so it didn’t take her a long time. When she left her room, she noticed that Brienne was standing guard just outside her door. “Brienne, why are you not asleep?” She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

Brienne looked very tired and her eyes were red form lack of sleep. “I´m guarding you, my lady.” Brienne looked a little sheepish at that.

“I had Ghost with me all night, lady Brienne. You could have gone to sleep.” Sansa replayed not unkindly. “Why don’t you get some sleep now, I will have Ghost to protect me and I will go to Jon. I have to talk to him any way and he would never let anyone hurt me.” Lady Brienne looked at the big direwolf. Sansa knew that Brienne couldn’t deny that the white wolf was a fearsome sight, and everyone had heard that Robb had gone into battle with Greywind, his own direwolf.

Brienne sighed and relented, and Sansa went to find her brother. It was so strange that Jon had survived the burning pyre and had manage to hatch not one, but four living dragons. And the way they had obeyed him was also strange.

Dragons were famously hard to control for the Targaryen´s and impossible for anyone else after the Doom. But how could Jon control them so easily. It wasn’t because he was bigger than them. Sansa had spent enough time around Tyrion to know this.

Her former husband was the closest to being a dragon expert you could get in this day and age. And he had loved to talk about the creatures. He had said that even the hatchlings couldn’t be controlled by someone who didn’t have any blood of old Valyria.

But as far as Sansa knew Jon didn’t have any Valyrian blood. Then again, she didn’t know who his mother was, no one knew. Her father had taken the secret to his grave.

But that hit her as strange. Her father had been renowned for his honor. But fathering a bastard wasn’t honorable. And the fact he never talked about her was even stranger.

Could Jon´s mother be a Targaryen? No that couldn’t be. The only female Targaryen that could have given birth around the time Jon was born was Rhealla Targaryen and she had been pregnant with Daenerys Targaryen. The other person that had hatched dragons in the last one hundred and fifty years.

The only other person that had spent long enough time around a Targaryen to have a child around the time Jon had to be conceived was…

Sansa stopped on her way to Jon´s rooms. She just stood there staring into space. Could it be? Could Jon really be…

That made more since than Eddard Stark fathering a bastard. Her aunt Lyanna had been with Rhaegar Targaryen for a year before Lord Stark had found her in the Tower of Joy where she had mysteriously died of a fever. Could she have died of a birthing fever? Could Jon really be the son of Lyanna and Rhaegar.

That would also explain the reason he had such control over the dragons.

She could feel something in her stomach twist. If that was true, Jon wasn’t her brother. Sansa didn’t know how to handle that. She had just gotten him back. She didn’t want to lose him again. Then again, she couldn’t just barge into his solar and start to shout out wild theories. She had to confirm them or disprove them if that was possible.

It was then Sansa remembered, her father hadn’t been alone at the Tower of Joy. Lord Howland Reed had been with him. If anyone knew the truth, it was him.

But it would have to wait. She had to speak to Jon about gathering an army to take back Winterfell from the Bolton´s.

Sansa arrived at the door to Jon´s solar. She was about to knock when she heard voices from the inside. But she couldn’t make out what they were saying. She shook her head and gathered her courage, and knocked. The voices stopped and she could hear someone walk to the door.

The door swung open to reveal Jon. He gave her one of his rare but beautiful smiles and invited her in. When she walked into the solar, she could see who Jon had been talking to. It was the wild haired wildling from the night before.

She also noticed that Jon´s dragons where strutting around the floor in front of the fireplace. Ghost trotted over to them to lay in front of the fireplace. The dragons seemed to remember the lesson Jon had thought them the night before. While they didn’t threaten Ghost, they couldn’t contain their curiosity and started to approach the direwolf to sniff at him.

Sansa was pulled out of her thought of dragons and direwolfs by Jon, who was introducing her to the wildling man. “Sansa, this is Tormund. Tormund this is my sister, Lady Sansa of Winterfell.” Jon was so much like Eddard Stark in that moment. Her father hadn’t liked flower introduction either. Tormund gave her a beaming smile. He looked like he was going to say something, but Jon interrupted him before he could say anything.

“So, can I count on you Tormund?” The big man laughed.

“Of course, King crow, I will help you. But you are going to have to convince the others, but after yesterday, I don’t think that is going to be a problem. Harhar.” With that he left the room chuckling.

Sansa stared after the man with wide eyes. “He grows on you.” Jon´s voice was filled with laughter. She couldn’t remember seeing him this relaxed before. It was a strange that a man was more relaxed after being murdered and then being brought back to life, than he had been as a child.

Sansa gave him a smile, she couldn’t believe she had him back. She had thought that she had lost him forever, but here he was. Alife and whole. She could feel the tears start to well up in her eyes. She blinked them away and tried to distract Jon from noticing them.

“What are you counting on Tormund to do?”

Jon sat down on his chair behind the desk. “I was asking him if he could supply us with men to take back Winterfell.” Of all the things she had been expecting from Jon at this moment. This definitely wasn’t it. “Winterfell is your birth-right, I am not going to let the Bolton´s have it. They betrayed Robb if the stories are correct and where given the North as a reward for it. It cannot stand.” Sansa could hear the anger in his voice now. She was so happy right now that she didn’t even try to stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks.

Jon looked shocked at seeing her cry. He stood up and started to walk over to her and he looked like he was going to say something, but he was stopped when Sansa rushed over to him and hugged him, she buried her face in his neck. Jon slowly put his arms around her as if he expected someone to reprimand him for touching her. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire, chirping of the dragons and Sansa repeating “Thank you” over and over again in Jon´s ear.

After a while she let him go. She couldn’t help but let out a small giggle when she saw his face. She had never seen anyone blush so hard before in her life. She shouldn’t laugh, Jon hadn’t had the most affection in his life, and very few people had ever hugged him at Winterfell. He probably hadn’t gotten used to it.

He cleared his throat. “We should decide on who we should contact. I know some of the lords have declared for the Bolton´s. Like the Karstark´s, Dustin´s and Ryswell´s.”

Sansa turned serious again and added. “So have the Umber´s. I heard Ramsey talk about it once. And I know that Smalljon Umber helped him against Stannis.” Jon was frowning but he didn’t seem all that concerned with this information. “He also said that the Dustin´s and the Ryswell´s didn’t send all their cavalry south for Robb, they only sent enough to make sure no one would question them.”

That got Jon´s attention if nothing else. “That means that they may have been planning to stab Robb in the back all along.” That thought had occurred to Sansa before. “But we need some loyal Northern Lords on our side. We can´t just take Winterfell back with Freefolk behind us. We have to show everyone that the North is behind you.”

Now Sansa was impressed. Unlike Robb, Jon was thinking about the political fight alongside the actual fighting, the political part of war was just as important as the actual battles. While Robb had been winning every battle, he had lost the war because of that fact.

Sansa bit her lip in worry. “You don’t seem very concerned that they have a lot more men than we do even if we get all the other houses. Why is that?”

“It would be better if I showed you.” He replayed. “Tonight, I will take you, Tormund and Ser Davos to see why I think we have an advantage in this fight. But you can´t tell anyone. I want it to be a nasty surprise for our enemies.”

Sansa couldn’t help it. She was a little worried. Could they trust Tormund and Ser Davos. She voiced this to Jon.

“Yes, I think so. Ghost likes them and everyone he likes, I trust.” Sansa smiled at that. She wished that she still had Lady with her.
“Do you trust Lady Brienne?” Jon asked after a short silence.

“Yes, she helped me when she didn’t have to, and I had no one else. I was almost captured by Ramsey´s hunters when she came and saved me and Theon and brought me here. She also seems to honest to be capable of anything nefarious.” She said with a smile.

“Good, then why don’t you bring her too.” Sansa nodded grateful that Jon was allowing her to bring Brienne.

She was about to ask more when there was a knock on the door. Jon called whoever it was to enter. The man who entered was the dour faced man from yesterday. Jon introduced them. She learned that his name was Eddison Tollet, but he was affectionally referred to as Dolorous Edd.

“Jon we still have to execute the traitors. Shall we do it now.” Jon nodded and Edd started to leave the room. Then Jon stopped him.

“Wait Edd,” The man stopped and waited for what Jon had to say. “I want you to build gallows on the other side of the wall, we will hang them there.” Both Edd and Sansa looked at Jon like he had lost his mind.

“You want to execute them on the other side of the wall? And what if they come back?” Now to was Edd´s turn to get a look from Sansa that said, have you lost your mind too?

“I hope that they do. And if they do, we will take them with us south and show the lords the proof of our words that the Others are returning.” Sansa was sure that her mind had stopped working. The Others? Returning? What in the world is going on?

Edd had gone pale, but he left the room with a nod and a promise to see it done.

“Jon, what is going on?” Sansa asked Jon while staring at him with wide eyes. Jon sighed and asked her to sit. Then he proceeded to tell her about the thing that had happened at the wall sense he had arrived here.

Sansa must have sat there in his solar for a long time listening to his impossible tale, but Jon had a way to make the impossible happen. Satin, Jon faithful steward had come with food for them as he as telling her his tale, and Sansa could barely remember the taste of the food she ate, she was so enraptured in his story.

Just after he finished the story, Edd came back and told them it was time and they were ready.

Jon and Sansa stood up to follow Edd back outside, but the little dragons wouldn’t have it. They all hurried after Jon and made screeching sounds. They apparently didn’t want to be left behind. Ghost used the opportunity to leave the room and go outside.
Jon stared down at the little dragons and they stared right back up at him. Then Jon sighed and said a quiet “Fine.” Sansa couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips. Jon looked like a tried father at this moment.

JON

Even though Jon hadn’t slept at all the entre night he wasn’t that tried. He was walking along side Sansa, as they made their way to the gate to the other side of the wall. Edd came and told him that the traitors were waiting on the other side along with a lot of the Black brothers that wanted to see them pay for their crime.

Jon really hoped that it would work. Executing them on the North side of the wall, if they had proof of the dead rising it would be much easier to get the Lords of Westeros to help the Nights Watch defeat the Night King and his armies.

They arrived at the gate. Ghost was impatiently waiting for them at the gate. It was like he was in a hurry to get to the other side of the wall.

His dragons were hurrying the best they could after him, like ducklings after their mother. They couldn’t fly yet, but Jon was sure that in a few days they would be soaring in the sky. Where they belonged.

The gate was opened, and they went down the tunnel. It was as cold as in an ice dragon´s belly. He looked behind him at the dragons to make sure that they were alright. They didn’t seem bothered by the cold at all.

Sansa on the other hand looked like she was freezing. Jon hurriedly took of his cloak and put it around he shoulders without a word. She tried to protest but Jon just smiled at her and shook his head. She looked down but Jon was sure that he had seen her smile just a little. That made something in his chest swell at the thought.

They made it to the other side of the wall and when they got out, Ghost ran as fast as his feet could carry him. He disappeared into the forest, but Jon wasn’t worried. Ghost would come back if he needed him.

“Where is Ghost going?” Sansa looked worried.

“He will be back soon, he always comes back.”

They walked up to where the gallows had been put up. The four traitors were already with their head in the nooses and all Jon needed to do was to cut the rope. Then they would drop to their deaths. They had been told of Jon´s return to the land of the living but seeing their reaction was priceless. They looked even more shocked at the dragons that followed Jon around.

But Jon had a duty to perform. He listened to their last words, which Bowen Marsh was bumbling about how Jon shouldn’t be alive, Wick Wittlestick wanted his family to believe that he had died fighting the freefolk, Olly was silent, but it was Ser Alister Thorne that surprised Jon most. He had expected a long speech about how he would do it again if he could, but the man just stared at Jon´s dragons. Then it hit Jon. Ser Alister had been a Targaryen supporter in the past, it must kill him that Ned Stark bastard had four dragons now, when he was sure that Thorne had nothing to say he cut the rope, and they fell to their deaths.

Jon stepped back down from the gallows and watched them swig there for a while. Sansa stepped to his side and linked their arms together and the dragons gathered around his feet and started to playfully snapping at each other. For a moment everything was peaceful, but then the bodies of Jon´s murderers came back to life and started to screeching, and try to reach them.

Sansa grabbed his arm with both her hand and gasped in shock. She was pressing her body against his arm and he could feel the heat radiating of her. Jon pushed away the thought and ordered the bodies cut down and put in the ice cell for preservation.
With some difficulty the black brothers managed it, without any injury. Just as Sansa and Jon were about to leave, Ghost came trotting back.

He had something in his mouth. It was small, grey and furry. Ghost brought it to them, and he seemed to be handing it to Sansa. It took Jon a moment to realize what it was.

It was a small direwolf pup.

Chapter Text

SANSA

She had just finished the last of the letter. Sansa handed it to Satin who seemed so happy to help her. She had grown to like the former prostitute. They had only known each other for a couple of hours but they got along famously. She was also happy that he hadn’t taken his vows and would be coming with her and Jon south.

She looked at the small direwolf in her lap. The pup was dark grey and very small. But Sansa was already half in love with the little wolf. They had identified the pup as a female. She was sick and malnourished, and Sansa would be nursing her to health as they went on the road to meet the Northern lords, but she had a feeling that the little wolf would be just fine with time. Sansa knew that she wouldn’t be replacing Lady, but Sansa knew that she would love this one just as much. Sansa even loved Ghost even more for finding the pup for her. He must have known how much she missed Lady and had gone and gotten her a pup.

Sansa was sitting in Jon´s solar. He had been kind enough to give her free reign there. Jon had left the dragons in the solar with her, while he had gone to see if he could find the little direwolfs´s mother. He had told her that she should write to all the Lords that they had discussed. They both knew that it was more effective for her to write the letter that it was for him. She was Eddard Stark´s trueborn daughter and her was his bastard. But she had her doubts about that.

With every minute that passed, she grew more and more certain that Jon was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. Her Lord father had never really talked about his sister. He had only said that Lyanna had been very much alike Arya, in appearance and character.

But if Lyanna had been so alike Arya in character, she would never have been dragged off without a fight. Arya would have killed anyone that had tried to kidnap her. So, it stood to reason that Lyanna would have done the same. So, how could she have been kidnapped and raped? Perhaps she hadn’t been. Maybe she went willingly with the prince of Dragonstone.

All agreed that he had been handsome and charming. Maybe they had fallen in love and gotten married. But he was already married to Elia Martell. But she couldn’t have any more children. Maybe he set her aside, or just married Lyanna even though he was already married to Elia. It wouldn’t bet the first time a Targaryen had married two women. There were even Targaryen´s that had married more than two women.

But this was not the time for her to go down that rabbit hole. She would wait until she could meet Howland Reed to confirm or deny her theories.

Sansa looked up as someone knocked on the door. Jon walked in looking grim. His dragons came crawling to him immediately. They were all fighting for his attentions, but Jon quickly shushed them. They stopped immediately and stared up at him. Jon stared back for a little while and then gave them a smile. He knelt down and started to pet them gently.

She smiled at seeing the hard and ruff Northern warrior treating the little creatures so gently. “Have you come up with names for them?” She asked him, effectively bringing him out of his thoughts.

Jon nodded. “I think so, I remember that I read a book on Old Valyria when I was a child and I remember reading about their gods. I found some names that I really like.” He suddenly turned shy.

“Well what are they?” She had a hard time keeping the excitement out of her voice.
He walked over to the desk and sat down in the chair in front of his desk. “Well, I named the Red one Charon, the Green and silver one is Oberon, the blue and bronze one is Sycorax and the silver one with the golden streaks is Umbriel.”

“I like those names. I think they fit them.” Then Sansa remembered something. “Didn’t Aegon and his sisters also name their dragons after Valyrian gods?”

Jon shook his head. “They were named after Valyrian gods but Aegon and his sisters didn’t name them. The dragons were too old for them to have named them. Balerion was hatched in Valyria before the doom and Vhaegar was hatched on Dragonstone fifty years before the conquest and he was the youngest of the three.” Sansa raised her eyebrows.

“I had forgotten how much you liked to read when we were children.” She smiled fondly at him. Jon turned a little red and cleared his throat.

“Yes, Robb and Theon, well more Theon than Robb, were always teasing me about that. I remember that for a long time Theon called me maester Snow.” Sansa remembered that too.

“Did you find the direwolf?” She really wanted to know if a direwolf mother was missing her pup.

“Yes, we found her, she had been dead for a few hours when Ghost had found her.” Sansa could feel her heart sink at that.

“Where there any other pups?”

Jon shook his head. “No, this one was the only one.” He stopped talking for but a moment, then he changed the subject.

“But there is a reason I am disturbing you.” Sansa was about to protest that he wasn’t disturbing anything, but Jon continued. “We got a letter from Ramsey Bolton, and there is another letter here for you.” Sansa felt her insides freeze at the name of the Bolton bastard. Anything that had to do with him couldn’t be good.

Jon handed her the letter. She opened it with shaking hand. The longer she read, she could feel bile rise up in her throat. When she finished the letter the only thought she had was: He has Rickon.

That monster had gotten his hands on her little brother. They had to save Rickon. He was just a little boy. She didn’t realize that her breathing had gotten faster, and she was sobbing. Then she felt Jon wrap his arms around her. she didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but eventually her tears dried up and Jon knelt down in front of her.

“Sansa, he is never getting his hands on you again and we are going to save Rickon.” She was looking into his Valyrian steel grey eyes and she wanted more than anything to believe him. But she didn’t see how they could save Rickon.

“Sansa, you know him better than anyone. Is there anything you can tell me about him? Anything at all, even though it may not seem relevant right now, it may help later.” Sansa nodded. She was glad that Jon was asking her opinion. It made her feel appreciated.

“He is very cruel, and he is cunning. But he is also short sighted. He likes to manipulate people and he is very good at it. He hates that he was born a bastard and if anyone calls him Snow, he gets really angry. He also likes to hunt women for sport. He has often threatened me that he would like to hunt me.” All the time Sansa was speaking, she was staring into her lap. She didn’t dare to look at Jon. She knew that he wouldn’t judge her for what had happened to her, but she didn’t want him to think that she was a weak little girl.

Every time she thought of her time in the hands of the Bolton´s she felt bile rise in her throat and shame in her heart. Logically she knew she had nothing to be ashamed of, but it was a feeling that haunted her like an ever-present shadow or a ghost that kept whispering in her ear that she was weak, and no one would love her.

Jon brought her out of her thoughts by taking her hand into his own. “Thank you for telling me, Sansa. I know that it must have been hard. We will win and when we do, Ramsay Snow will die.” The smile Sansa gave him was watery and she couldn’t help herself, she let out a small laugh. She liked that Jon called Ramsay a Snow, now that he knew that Ramsay hated it.

Sansa looked at the other letter that Jon had brought her. when she saw the sigil, she groaned. She really didn’t want to have to deal with Littlefinger now, or ever.

“What?” Jon was looking at her with a worried look in his eyes, as she read the letter. “What is it?”

“Littlefinger wants to meet me.” Sansa replayed. She had grown really tried at reading the letter from Petyr Baelish. “I don’t want to go, but I think that I have to. We don’t what him to try to help Ramsay.”

“You think that he would?” Sansa nodded at that.

“I wouldn’t put anything past Littlefinger. He is capable of anything.” She could see that Jon didn’t like the fact she was going to see the man. But Sansa loved him for not trying to forbid her from doing it. There were so many men that would have, but Jon didn’t. She knew that he respected her enough to make her own decisions.

“Please promise me that you will be careful and that you will take Brienne with you.”

“Yes, of course I will take Brienne with me, and yes I will promise to be careful.” She was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

JON

Jon had been sitting on the floor in his solar for a few hours. He was very worried about Sansa meeting Petyr Baelish. Janos Slynt had said more than enough about him before his death to try to escape the beheading. Slynt had told him how Littlefinger had betrayed Eddard Stark to the Queen. Sansa hadn’t been shocked to hear those news.

Jon looked at the small direwolf pup in his arms. Sansa had left the little she-wolf with Jon while she when to see what Baelish wanted. The wolf was too small and sick to survive the journey on her own feet and it was better to leave her with Jon.

His little dragons seemed to have taken a shine to the direwolfs. Charon, Umbriel and Sycorax like to use Ghost as something to climb on and play the king of the mountain. Oberon was much calmer and sweeter that the other dragons and like to snuggle into the large direwolf´s fur.

Even though Jon knew that Ghost was incredibly even tempered, he was surprised at how calm and patient the white wolf was.

At this moment Umbriel was the king of Ghost mountain and was giving loud screeching noises in victory.

Jon snorted at the sight, as he petted the direwolf in his lap. He had decided not to interfere with the dragons while they were playing, but let Ghost decide when he had enough. While Jon was watching the dragons, the door was opened.

Sansa had come back. She looked really irritated and she was frowning. He didn’t like it when she frowned. He always wanted to see her smile and laugh, but Jon rarely got what he wanted. He decided to wait until she told him what was wrong. It was never a good idea to start questioning a person who was upset, better to wait until they are ready.

Sansa walked over to Jon and took her little direwolf pup into her arms and sat down beside him. Now that his lap was unoccupied Oberon came and climbed on to his lap to make himself comfortable. They stayed like this for a while, in comfortable silence.

Then Sansa spoke. “He said that he didn’t know what Ramsay was.” Jon turned his head to her and waited for her to continue. “He is lying, I am certain of it. He also said that he has the Knights of the Vale at Moat Cailin, I only have to say the word and they will come running to help me retake Winterfell.”

Jon was silent for a while before he spoke. “As useful as the Knights of the Vale are, I don’t think we should use them if they come with Petyr Baelish. The north cannot afford to be in his debt.”

Sansa nodded. “That was what I was thinking, but how can we win without them? Even if we get all the lords that have not declared for Ramsay, we are still too few.” Jon looked outside, it was starting to get dark, now was as good time as any to go for a ride and show Sansa, Ser Davos and Tormund his other dragons.

Jon picked Oberon from his lap and put him with the others. He then ordered Ghost to watch them and keep them save until he came back. He knew that the direwolf would guard them with his life if he had to. He beckoned Sansa outside, and she left her little direwolf with the white wolf. They found Brienne and Podrick outside his solar and they followed Jon and Sansa.

They meet Tormund and Ser Davos in the courtyard. Tormund started to give the lady knight some disturbing looks, that he most likely thought were charming the woman. But in reality, Jon had never seen a person look so uncomfortable. Jon told the men to saddle their horses so they could go. The ride took an hour like the one Jon had taken before. He was just as excided to meet Rhaegal and Viserion again as he had been the first time. Jon dismounted at the same spot as before and the others followed. Then he turned to them. “Alright, before we continue, I need all of you not to panic or grab any weapons when we meet them. They will not harm you while I am there.” He was certain that it was the truth, or he would never have brought Sansa with them.

“Jon what is going on?” Jon could hear the nervousness in Sansa´s voice. She looked at him with those big blue eyes. He took her hand and lead her forward, then he whispered to her so the other couldn’t hear. “Don’t worry I would never let them hurt you.” She gave him a look at that but did nothing but follow beside him after he said that. Soon they came to the clearing and when they entered, he heard the collective gasps.

Sansa had unconsciously moved closer to him and was now griping tightly onto his arm with both of her hands. Lady Brienne had to stop herself from gripping the hilt of her sword, Tormund stood there staring along side Ser Davos and young Podrick fell on his ass in surprise. They were all staring open mouthed at the two large dragons, that Jon was sure that were preening at the attention. They liked to be admired.

Rhaegal stepped slowly forward to show that he wasn’t a threat. Jon raised his hand and let it meet the emerald dragon´s snout. The dragon gave a purr like sound at the touch. Viserion decided to come and get his petting to. He approached slowly like his brother and then he gave Sansa a sniff and gave her a begging look. The pale dragon wanted her to pet him.

Sansa looked at Jon with wide eyes and Jon gave her an encouraging look. She took one of her hands from Jon´s arm and very slowly reached for the large pale dragon. The same purring sound came from Viserion as Sansa gave him a rub on his snout. The fear had gone from Sansa´s eyes, and when she looked up at Jon, her eyes only held wonder and hope.

The others had gathered up their courage and had approached them, but they didn’t seem to want to get too close to the large fire-breathing dragons.
“Where did they come from Jon?” Sansa´s voice held steady despite the shock of Jon presenting them with Rhaegal and Viserion.

“They are two of the three dragons Daenerys Targaryen hatched in Essos.” He replayed. Sansa frowned and Jon could see her mind working overtime to make sense of this information. He decided to continue and introduce them. “The green and bronze one is Rhaegal and the cream and gold one is Viserion. She named them after her dead brothers.”

“The last I heard of Daenerys Targaryen, is that she was in Qarth, with three small dragons, looking for an army.” Sansa said and Jon nodded. He knew very well that Daenerys had been in Qarth looking for help to take the Iron throne.

“She was in Qarth for a time and then she headed to Astapor to buy an army of Unsullied. She bought them with her black dragon, and then she ordered him to start burning the slave masters and ordered the Unsullied to start freeing the slaves and killing the masters. Then she headed to Yunkai. She sacked the city and freed the slaves and after that she headed to Meereen. She took up rule there and after a short time she locked Rhaegal and Viserion under one of the pyramids, until they managed to escape, and they came here.”

When he finished talking everyone was looking at him like he had grown a small extra head on his shoulder.

“How do you know all this? The spymasters of King´s Landing only had just found out that she was in Qarth when I escaped.” He could hear the surprise in Sansa´s voice as she spoke.

“Did you ever have dreams of Lady, before she died?” He really hoped she did, it would make things easier to explain if she had gotten those dreams.

Sansa nodded her head. “I used to dream I was her, a handful of times before she died.” Jon nodded feeling relived. This would make things easier to explain.

“I have those dreams about Ghost too, after having them for a while, I started to actively try to control them and soon I could enter Ghost´s mind at will, now I don’t even have to enter his mind to control him. All I have to do is think about I want him too and he does it.”

“Harhar, So, you are a skinchanger. I thought you had a usually good control over the wolf. But even this amount of control is a lot more that what I have heard of from other skinchangers.” He had almost forgotten Tormund and the others as he had been explaining warging to Sansa.

Sansa looked up at Jon again, she was clearly waiting for him to continue with his explanation. Jon cleared his throat and continued.

“Ever since Rhaegal hatched in the Red waste, I have been warging into him and seeing everything that goes on around him.” That statement was meet with silence and as it stretched onward, Jon started to fear that this was getting to crazy for anyone to handle. The warg into a dragon on the other side of the world was strange to say the least. He didn’t think he could handle it if Sansa rejected him now.

Rhaegal, sensing his mood stepped even closer to him and put is snout gently against him in attempt to comfort him. He also made a cooing sound that sounded very out of place for such a large and fearsome creature.

“Jon, I think you and I need to talk to Howland Reed.” Everyone was now looking at Sansa like she had grown the extra head. What did the lord of Greywater watch have to do with warging into dragons on the other side of the world?

Before anyone could ask her that she continued. “I think father may not have told us the truth.” That was not what Jon had been expecting her to say. Ned Stark was famous for telling the truth, even if it almost destroyed his marriage. “I think your father may have been Rhaegar Targaryen.” Jon could hear the gasps from Ser Davos, Brienne and Podrick. He wasn’t surprised not to hear anything from Tormund, since Jon doubted that the man knew how he was.

But Jon´s mind had stopped working, he knew logically that the Targaryen´s were the only one´s after the doom to tame and ride dragons, the few exceptions were children of Targaryen mothers or bastards had managed to ride dragons. But to hear that Sansa thought he might be the son of Rhaegar Targaryen war unthinkable. That meant that his mother had to be Lyanna Stark. There were no other possibilities, Jon knew that Ned Stark loved his sister and would have done anything for her, as Jon would do for his sisters. So, would it be outside the realm of possibilities that Eddard had lied about Jon being his bastard to protect him from Robert´s wrath. Now that Jon really thought about it, Ned Stark had never called Jon his son, he had always called him his blood.

Jon having Targaryen blood would explain all the dragons Jon had gathered around him in such a short time, and it explained why he could warg into Rhaegal, when he had been on the other side of the world.

He couldn’t help it. He felt a little betrayed by Ned Stark if I were true. Jon had always wanted to know how his mother was, but as far as Jon knew, the man had taken the secret to his grave. Jon knew that Ned had been trying to protect him if it was true. But he could at least told Jon before he took the black. All he had ever wanted to know who his mother was, so what was the harm in Jon knowing. Did the man honestly think that Jon would want to go and avenge a man he didn’t even now.

Then it struck Jon, it came to him of how easily he started to think that his parents were Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark instead of Ned Stark and an unknown woman. Maybe it was because of the dragons, maybe it was because of Ned Stark had never called him his son and because of how he had always just said that Jon was his blood. Then another thought entered his head. Rhaegar Targaryen was said to have kidnapped Lyanna and raped her. Was he a bastard born of rape?

It was like Sansa could see all his thoughts start to spiral out of control. She grabbed his hands in hers and looked him in the eyes. “Jon if this is true, that doesn’t make you any less of a Stark to me. And maybe none of this is true and you really are the son of Ned Stark.” He could hear it in hear voice that he doubted the last part.

Jon gave a dry chuckle. “That wouldn’t explain the dragons.” He could see that Sansa was about to said something else but before she could Davos interrupted.

“If I may, there were rumors during the Rebellion and a little after it was over, that the Lady Lyanna hadn’t been kidnapped.” That got Jon´s attentions. “There were even some who said that they were in love and that princess Elia had approved of Rhaegar marrying the Lady Lyanna. But not long after Robert took the throne they stopped, most of us stopped thinking of them because it didn’t matter, because Lady Lyanna didn’t have a child or so everyone thought.”

Jon and Sansa stared open mouthed at the older knight. This was new information to both of them. “We have to talk to lord Howland Reed.” Sansa sounded very determined now. Jon agreed with her. He also knew that Lord Reed had been at the tower of Joy with Ned Stark when he had found his sisters body.

“I have already written to him to ask him for help, I think he will, father always trusted him.” Jon thought it likely too, Lord Stark had always thought very highly of the Lord of the Greywater watch. “Jon.” Sansa said as she looked at the dragons. “I think we can win if they are on our side.” She was smiling. He couldn’t help but to smile to.

“I think Ramsay´s armies are going to abandon him if they get a glimpse of these two.” There was a glint in her eyes as she said that.

“I think I have a better idea.” Jon replayed as he gave Rhaegal a rub on his snout.

Chapter Text

SANSA

Her new direwolf, Ice was trotting happily beside Sansa´s horse. Sansa had decided to name her after her father´s Valyrian steel sword, in honor of his memory. Ice was looking so much better than she had been when Ghost had brought her to Sansa two weeks ago.

Sansa was riding beside Jon, who was chatting with Ser Davos about what they could expect from the lords of the North. Ser Davos was a little worried that the Northern lords would want to side with the Bolton´s. But Jon agreed with Sansa that they would need the lords of the North to hold the it against outside forces.

Sansa was a little worried about Ser Davos, she didn’t think that he would betray them. But she had learned that his son Devan, who was serving as a squire to Stannis was one of the missing or dead after the massacre near Winterfell along with Shireen Baratheon. Sansa hoped with all her heart that they would find them alive and unharmed. But the odds were not in their favor.

They were surrounded by the men that had followed Stannis to the Wall and survived the massacre of the Baratheon army. After seeing Jon step out of the fire with four dragons, they had all sworn themselves to him. They were know calling him the prince that was promised and Stannis´s red woman, Melisandre was preaching that Jon was going to save the world from darkness. Now Sansa didn’t put any faith in prophecies of any kind, but she was glad to have around hundred more men to fight for their cause.

They had taken of their Baratheon finery and put on clothes more suitable for the Northern climate. They had learned their lesson on the dangers on fighting in the Northern winter in their fine southern summer armor. Sansa and Satin had taken charge of making sure that they were well supplied for the journey. She and Satin had also made them new colors to signal their allegiance to Jon. They now were wearing emerald green and bronze. Sansa thought it a good an idea that while they weren’t sure of Jon´s parentage, Jon should where Rhaegal´s colors.

Sansa had also made Jon new clothes in Rhaegal´s colors. She had to admit, he looked good in green and bronze. But she had also made him a cloak like Ned Stark had always worn. Sansa could still feel the blush heat her cheeks when Jon had smiled at her and thanked her for the cloak.

Jon and Sansa were almost to the holdfast of the Flints of the mountains, where they would meet the mountain clans, the Glovers and the Mormont´s of bear island. After that they would travel to White Harbor to talk to the Manderly´s, Reeds, and the Hornwoods. She was very nervous, but she had managed to hide it very well.  Her heart also felt lighter than it had since her father had been arrested.

She had talked to Jon about everything that had happened to her in the past years. It had been terrifying at first, but when she had started to talk to him, she hadn’t been able to stop. It felt good to have someone to confide in that she knew without a shadow of a doubt, would never break her confidence.

She looked up to the sky when she heard the shrieking of the dragons. Jon´s hatchlings had started to fly just before they had left castle black, much to Jon´s relief. He had told her that he didn’t intend to put them in cages or anything of that sort. Sansa agreed with him, like direwolfs, dragons didn’t belong chained up or in cages.

But the dragons hadn’t been the only reason they had stayed for a few days at Castle Black. Jon had wanted to put his affairs and that of the Watch in order before he left. He had announced to the black brothers that since he had been murdered, he was now released from his vows and they would have to vote for another Lord Commander. His former brothers didn’t seem happy with that. Jon was very well liked by the remaining nights watchmen, but they had consented and voted Eddison Tollet as the new Lord Commander. Much to Edd´s unhappiness, not that Sansa thought that Edd was happy about many things.

Jon had asked the new Lord Commander to write to the Lords of the North and tell them that Jon had been released from his vows, so that he wouldn’t be beheaded on sight.

Sansa had decided to keep the pink letter, as it was now known as, so that they could let the lords of the North know of the letter´s contents. Sansa doubted that if they had any honor left, that they would ignore it. They would be honor bound to rescue Rickon, who was by rights their liege lord and to defend her own honor. Ramsay had threatened her, the daughter of the man they had loved and respected, the daughter of Eddard Stark. And now the Bolton bastard was holding his son a prisoner.

Suddenly there was a loud shriek from one of the dragons. Sansa looked up and saw the red, golden and black one, Charon, dive for Jon, who was sitting on his horse beside her. The dragons had grown so much in the last two weeks, that now only one of them could occupy his shoulder at a time.

Charon curled around Jon´s neck and gave a loud hiss at whatever there was in front of them. The others flew up higher and out of reach of any arrows that may come their way, but Sansa could see that they were ready to swoop down and breath fire on whoever was coming at a moment´s notice.

Sansa sat up straighter in the saddle. The former Baratheon men surrounded them in case they were being attacked. Soon, riders appeared on the horizon. As they grew nearer, Sansa recognized the sigils of the First Flints. Jon stopped their escort and waited for them to approach them. As the men of the Flints grew closer, Sansa could see their faces as they stared up at the sky. Their eyes were darting between the dragons and the Stark party.

The clan men stopped a few feet away from them, as custom dictated and Sansa, Jon and Ser Davos made their way to the delegation. The Stark party must have made a strange sight. A mismatch of former Baratheon men and Wildlings. Four dragons and one full grown direwolf and a direwolf pup. One of said dragons was still draped around Jon´s broad shoulders, and was hissing threats at the unknown men, and showing them his ink black teeth.

Sansa recognized Donnel Flint at the forefront of the Flint party, he was the oldest son and heir of old Torghen Flint. She had meet him once before at Winterfell, when old Torghen had been meeting with her father.

“Welcome, Lady Stark, lord Snow to the lands of the First Flints. My father and the other lords wait for you in his hall.” The man seemed to have gotten over his surprise at the dragons, but he had not gotten over the wonder at seeing them. He had like most others in the world, never expected to see living dragons, as they had been gone for hundred and fifty years before Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow had hatch two different clutches of eggs.

“Thank you, my lord, my brother, our companions and I are very grateful for being able to meet with your father in these troubling times.” She replayed graciously and gave him a gentle smile.

Lord Donnel nodded at her with a smile and bid them follow. Sansa looked down at Ice, to make sure that she was following them, and sure enough she didn’t seem to have any problems as she darted around Sansa´s horse.

“If I may be so bold, Lord Snow, Lady Stark but where did you get dragons?” Jon had told her that he was very worried about how it would be taken that they now had dragons.

“It is a long story, Lord Donnel.” That was the only thing Jon said in his gruff northern accented voice. Lord Donnel Flint nodded.

“And will we be hearing that story when we get to my father´s hall?” Lord Donnel tried to sound disinterested but failed miserably.

“Most likely, my lord.” Jon had never been the one for talking on hours at an end. He would rather listen, than speak.

“My lady, my father and I were very relieved to hear that you and your brother were on your way to us. I will be the first in line to avenge King Robb and those who died at the Red Wedding.” The young Flint heir spoke with pride in his voice and she was sure that he was being sincere. The First Flints had been loyal bannermen to the Starks for thousands of years. They would not take well to Bolton rule.

It didn’t take them long to reach the keep of the First Flints. It was large, but not as large or grand as Winterfell. They arrived in the courtyard of the keep; they could see that the other Lords had arrived. She could see Lord Glover´s brother and heir Robett, Lady Lyanna Mormont was there as the acting lady of Bear island as her mother was missing along with Robett´s brother Galbart. The mountain clans had all come as well.

Sansa would never admit to anyone that she felt a little gleeful at seeing their openmouthed expressions at seeing the dragons. Charon was still on Jon´s shoulders in case something happened, but the others had landed themselves on the towers and battlements of the keep and were looking at the lords in suspicion. They were giving them the occasional hiss in warning just in case they would try something.

The Stark delegation dismounted their horses and Lord Donnel hurried over to her to give her a hand down from the horse. She accepted and gave him a courteous smile in return. As she dismounted, she couldn’t help but to glance to where Jon was. Sansa noticed that he seemed to frown in their direction, but he quickly masked his facial expression.

But Charon did no such thing, the red dragon continued to stare at the Flint heir with his golden eyes, ready to defend her honor should the man try anything.

Sansa had grown fond of the dragons. So fond, that when Jon went to Rhaegal and Viserion in the evenings, she was the one to volunteer to watch them. Sansa was sure that the dragons had grown a little fond of her as well. Just before they had left Castle Black and after the dragons had started to fly, one of the more disreputable black brothers had come to her and started to bother her. Just as Brienne was going to step in, the blue and bronze one, Sycorax, had flown in and screeched at the man and started to spit fire in his direction.

Sycorax hadn’t killed him or set him on fire, but he had effectively scared the man away, and after that incident none of the men dared to mess with her. Sycorax had certainly put the fear of the dragon in them.

The lords gave her a respectful head bow and she gave them a curtsy in return. “Thank you for having us, Lord Flint, we are very grateful for your hospitality.” Sansa´s voice was even and respectful, and she smiled gently at the Lords. It was critical that they help Jon and her take back Winterfell. Sure, with Rhaegal and Viserion they could easily take the North back, but they needed the Lords on their side.

Sansa and Jon had spoken about the bigger dragons in length. And they both agreed that they wouldn’t introduce them to the lords until later, and that was only if they committed their men to the Stark´s cause. It didn’t take loyalty or bravery to bet on a sure thing.

The Flint of the mountain came forward. He was looking at the dragon around Jon´s shoulders in both wonder and caution. The Flint was a tall man and very broad and had a thick untamed beard.

He offered them bread and salt, and Sansa felt little of the tension in her shoulders leave at that. She knew that the old Torghen Flint would never break guest rights, he was no Frey.

After all the introductions were concluded, the Stark party was shown to the chambers that they had been provided with during their stay. Sansa was glad to know that Jon´s chamber would be located next to hers. She felt better knowing that he was near.

The Flint was holding a feast in their honor, much to Sansa´s private annoyance. After her stay in King´s Landing she had come to loathe all feasts and celebrations of any kind. Well she had attended one wedding that she had kind of liked.

She had just finished getting ready for the feast, when there was a knock on the door. It was most likely Lord Donnel. He had asked if he could escort her tonight and she had agreed. She needed to be as courteous as she could, though she would rather have Jon escorting her to any feast, or maybe even Ser Davos. Sansa liked the older man. He was straight forward with everything he did or said. Which was strange, Sansa thought, he had been a smuggler. 

Sansa opened her door and she saw Lord Donnel there, smiling and dressed in his house colors. He offered her his arm and lead her to the great hall. When they arrived at the hall, the feast had already started. Sansa was seated at the high table with the other lords, and as she looked around, she noticed that Jon was nowhere to be seen. Had something happened to him? Had they denied him the right to sit at the high table? If that was so, Sansa would see to it that someone would pay for that insult.

Sansa was in the middle of her thoughts of making sure that someone would pay for the insult to Jon when she noticed him arrive. He had only been a little late to the feast, and no one had apparently hurt him.

But on his arm was young Lyra Flint. She was a pretty girl of thirteen and she had the mud brown hair that was common in the North. Lady Lyra was looking up at Jon with starstruck expression on her face. It was very clear to Sansa that the girl was smitten with Jon.

Sansa´s stomach felt like she had swallowed a bucket of snakes, and she had an urge to claw the girl´s eyes out. But then she noticed the look on Jon´s face. Sansa didn’t think that she had ever seen anyone so uncomfortable, not even Brienne when Tormund gave her one of his more smoldering looks.

She had to restrain from giggling. Soon the feast grew more and more northern, which meant that it grew louder and there was a lot of drinking and cheering for the attending Starks. Both Sansa and Jon had been forced to the dancefloor. Once upon a time Sansa would have loved this, a feast thrown in their honor, but now all she wanted to do was to snuggle up to Ice in her bed.  Sansa had been forced to leave Ice in her room for the night. The little direwolf was too tired after the long journey here.

But she suffered the dancing with all the grace she could muster. It seemed that the Lords that she danced with didn’t notice how little she liked dancing with them, Sansa would die before letting them know. No, all they would see was the gracious daughter of Ned Stark. It did help to see Jon dancing with the Ladies that were attending. Even as a child Jon had been uncomfortable dancing and doing courtly things. And now as an adult who had spent years on the Wall surrounded with men, he didn’t appear to have improved his courtly talents.

Sansa would have to help him train his dancing skills, especially if he was the trueborn son of Rhaegar and Lyanna. A bastard son could be excused from being an expert in his courtly duties but not a trueborn son. And if Jon was the trueborn heir, then he may have to make a claim on the Iron Throne. They needed all the men they could get to defeat the Others that were coming for all of them.

“Your brother looks uncomfortable.” Lord Donnel was dancing with her now, he was watching Jon and Lady Lyra dancing. Lady Lyra didn’t seem put out with Jon for his poor dancing skills. In fact, she didn’t seem to notice, she was too busy admiring Jon, that didn’t sit well with Sansa for some reason.

“Jon was never the one for feasts and dancing, he is very much like father in that regard.” She said with a fond smile in Jon´s direction.

“Aye, I suppose that feast must have been a chore for someone who is a bastard born.” He seemed to regret those words as soon as they came out of his mouth. “Not that I have anything against those who are born out of wedlock, but there are many who do not share in that view. As you know that there are many who look down on those who are baseborn, and I cannot imagine what it feels like to be looked down on for something that I did not do.”

Yes, Sansa could agree with that. She had gotten a small taste of what it was like for bastards when she had been in the Vale, under the name of Alayne Stone. It had been better for her, because she knew that she really was trueborn.

She wondered what it would be like for Jon, he now had a small hope that he was a trueborn, but what if it was snatched away and he was a bastard of Rhaegar and Lyanna? Sansa hoped for his sake that he was a trueborn, he deserved to have all those who looked down on him eat their word. Jon had accomplished so much in his life, despite being looked down on by others. She couldn’t help but to wonder what he could do with a family name, and not just any family name but that of royalty. He could do so much good for the kingdoms.

It was then Sansa vowed to herself to put Jon on the Iron Throne, and help him keep it, whatever the cost. Of all the people trying to claim it, Cersei, Tommen, Littlefinger and more, Jon was not only the best option the people could hope for, he was the only person she had known to hopefully make a worthy monarch.

JON

Jon woke up slowly. He could feel the weight of his little dragons on his back as he lay on his stomach. It wouldn’t be long until they would have to sleep outside with Rhaegal and Viserion. Jon wasn’t sure how they would take that transition.

Jon was still tried after the feast last night. Ever since had been a boy and understood that he was a bastard, he had hated feasts and everything that came with them. He hated the fact he was shuffled into the corner, far away from his siblings. Jon understood that a bastard couldn’t sit with the trueborn children and the visiting lords would find it offensive to be seated near a bastard boy, but that didn’t take the sting away.

Jon forced himself to get up, effectively waking up the dragons and letting them slide of his back. They squawked at the indignity.

This would be a hard day. Today he and Sansa would have to convince the lords to fight on their side. Jon knew that if he showed them Rhaegal and Viserion, that the lords of the North would rally to their side. They would want to bet on the winning side, and two large dragons looked to be the winning side. But he and Sansa had spoken about this. It would be better to see who would support them without the dragons and then show the lords that supported them, the larger dragons.

Keep your cards close in battle and in diplomacy, maester Aemon had said. He really missed the man. He had always offered good counsel to Jon, and he had really enjoyed their talks about everything that came to their mind. It had started with Jon asking the maester about dragons and everything he knew about them, but soon they had started to talk about everything in the world.

The good maester had been very fascinated by Jon´s incredible memory. Maester Aemon had really enjoyed testing it by making Jon answer questions about the books he had read and to see if Jon could answer correctly. Jon had, every time.

Jon looked at his dragons, what would the maester think of him now? Having brought more dragons into the world. Hopeful he would have been proud. Jon would have liked to show maester Aemon the dragons. The great glory and grief of his house, maester Aemon had once called them.

Jon hurriedly dressed. He had decided to wear one of the green and bronze doublets that Sansa had made for him. He walked outside and made sure that the dragons and Ghost were following him. It was time for them to go outside and hunt.

The people he met on the way were quick to get out of his way. By now everyone in the keep had heard or seen the dragons and the big direwolf and while they were mostly curious, they were also afraid.  Jon walked into the courtyard and Ghost was quick to disappear into the forest nearby, and the four dragons took flight as soon as they got outside. Jon was sure that they were going to harass Rhaegal and Viserion, which they had been doing since they learned how to fly.

Jon had seen them though Rhaegal´s eyes and he could feel the light annoyance of the emerald dragon. But Jon had been quick at making sure that the bigger dragons wouldn’t hurt the younger dragons. Rhaegal and Viserion complied, however reluctantly, but that didn’t mean that they didn’t lay down the law for the younger dragons. No, it was made very clear for them who was in charge, and that was Rhaegal with Viserion coming in second.

Jon made his way over to some of the men that had sworn themselves to him at Castle Black. They were in charge of the wraiths that they had brought with them on the march. Jon knew that he would have to prove to the lords of Westeros that the Others were returning. So, he had decided to take them with him on the march and show them to the northern lords, to convince them to set aside their hatred for the free folk and to fight the common enemy.

When he was sure that the men knew what to do, Jon walked back inside and when to the great hall to break his fast with the attending lords. Then after that they would meet and discuss the matter at hand, getting rid of the Bolton´s. Jon entered the great hall and sat down beside Sansa, who was looking like the epitome of a strong northern Lady. She was chatting with Lord Donnel, the Flint heir.

She gave Jon one of her beautiful smiles in greeting. Sansa was a vision in her grey and white dress, and she had her hair done in the fashion of the north. A single braid that she had laid over her shoulder.

Jon was very glad that the Lady Lyra was sitting with her older brother and not by his side this morning, and instead Ser Davos was sitting beside him. That way he could have a conversation about something else than the latest fabric she had been given by her father. The young lady was nice enough sure but talks of fabric were not Jon´s forte.

Soon the Flint, gathered all the lords and ladies into his war room. Jon and Sansa had decided to bring Ser Davos with them, much to the older man´s surprise.

When everybody had taken their seats, the Flint begun.

“Now, we all know why we are here. To rid the north of the scum we call the Bolton´s.” At that the lords nodded and agreed. “But before we begin our talk of that, there is somethings I would like to know.”

Jon braced for it, he knew that they would be asking how it was that he was released for his duties and vows to the Night´s Watch and why he had let the wildlings through.

“I would like to know, why were you released from your vows, Lord Snow? The new lord commander wasn’t very clear on that.” Now all the eyes of the lords were on him, and they were looking at him in suspicion.

“That is a good question, Lord Flint.” Jon made sure that he spoke with an even voice. “But perhaps I should answer it in the courtyard, so I may show you the truth of my words.”

Now all the lords were looking confused, but Sansa and Ser Davos caught on immediately.

“I think that is a good idea Jon.” Sansa said as she stood up and made for the door and forcing the lords to follow them into the courtyard.

Jon walked over to the crate that his men had prepared and stood beside it and faced the lords and ladies.

“Well then my lords, my ladies. The reason I was released from my vows is because of there were some of the nights watch that didn’t agree that I let the freefolk on this side of the wall. Even though they knew that we have a common enemy.” This statement caused the lords to start grumbling among themselves. They couldn’t imagine any enemy that was both against them and the freefolk.

Jon removed his doublet and was now standing in the freezing courtyard in his shirt, but the cold didn’t really have any effect on him after all the years on the wall. “You see my lords and ladies, the reason I was released from my vows is because I have fulfilled them. I swore a vow to die at my post, and I did.” No one had anytime to object to what Jon said, because he had already removed his shirt. The scars from his stabbing where plain for everyone to see. They were barely healed and easily visible in the daylight.

The lords of the North were too shocked to gasp and just stood there staring at his chest in horror. It was clear to everyone that the wounds had been fatal, and no man could have survived them. Jon put his shirt back on and continued.

 “Lord Donnel.” As Jon said his name, the man jumped. He looked very startled at being addressed. “You asked me yesterday how I came to have dragons.” the man nodded mutely.

“The reason I have them is because, when the faithful men of the nights watch put me on my funeral pyre as tradition dictates, they also put the four dragons eggs that the maester of the order had given me; on the pyre with me. I woke up on the pyre and walked out of it with four dragons.” This was met with more stunned silence. Then Sansa walked forward to Jon and addressed the lords.

“Every word that Jon has spoken to you my lords and my lady, is the truth. I was there along with Ser Davos and these good men here that you see here before you. We all saw Jon step out of his own funeral pyre with his dragons.” Her voice was firm and strong as steel. She decided to continue. “But that is not all.”

The lords were completely silent and didn’t dare to make a sound. “When the men of the nights watch intended to execute the men that had murdered their lord commander, Jon order them brought to the other side of the wall to be hanged. Usually he would have taken their heads himself like my lord father imparted with all his sons. But the circumstances required a different approach.”

Jon now having put his doublet back on, gestured to one of the appointed officers, who had survived the massacre and made his way to the wall. They were getting ready to open the crate. Jon made sure that he was standing in front of Sansa so the wraith wouldn’t get to her. The lords stood there and were looking at the create in trepidation.

Jon´s men opened the crate and let it fall to its side and the body of Wick Wittlestick rolled out of it. The corpse wasted no time in getting to its feet and charging at the lords, who had gone grey and were backing up in a hurry. But before the dead man could reach them, he was yanked back by the rope that was still around its neck. It gave an unholy shriek as it was dragged back into its crate.

“This is the reason I let the Wildlings through the wall, my lords and my ladies. If we don’t stand together against this threat, we will all die and become like this wraith. But first we must unite the North under Stark rule. We must go to Winterfell and rescue Rickon Stark, the rightful lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the north.”

The lords had been shocked before at seeing Jon´s scars. But seeing a wraith could put the fear in the hardest of men. The Flint stepped forward and looked at Jon in horror. “Is there any way to kill them?” His voice as hesitant and Jon could hear the fear in it.

Jon nodded at him. “Aye, fire, dragon glass and Valyrian steel will do the trick with the wraiths, but we have only killed the Others with dragon glass and Valyrian steel.” The man nodded his head and seemed to think it over. The silence in the yard was broken by young Lyanna Mormont, the acting lady of bear island until her mother was found.

She was the only one who wasn’t as grey as ash, no she was as stern and steely as she had been before. “I understand that we need to fight these dead men. But let me ask you this Jon Snow. Why can´t the Bolton´s lead us? As far as I know the north is united under their rule.” Her voice was hard, and she gave nothing away, but Jon knew her game immediately. She was testing Jon and Sansa, she wanted to see their reaction and if they were worth following.

Sansa stepped forward again and spoke. “My lady, if the north is as united as you say, then what are you doing here, talking to us? If any of you were really behind the Bolton´s then you would have executed Jon immediately and sent me back to Winterfell, but you have not. In fact, we have been given guest rights, and the lords of the North have always respected those rights unlike the Frey´s.” Lady Lyanna was looking at Sansa and Jon could see that the young Lady of bear island had respect for Sansa by saying that to her face.

“There is something else that Jon and I want to show you.” Sansa took out the pink letter and handed Lady Lyanna. “Why don’t you read it to the lords, my lady.” Sansa´s voice was kind and light, like she was asking a little child to practice their reading assignment.

The Lady Lyanna opened the letter and started reading it out loud. At first, she had started out strong and confident but then she started to falter. Not because she was having a hard time reading, but because of the amount of horror the letter contained. When she was done reading the letter, Sansa spoke again. “My lady if this is the sort of Lord of Winterfell you want to follow, then I weep for the habitants of bear island. And if this the sort of Warden of the north that the lords and ladies of the north are proud to follow then it is not a north, I want to live in. It would not be the north that my father was so proud of.”

“Aye.” The Wull was speaking now. “If we let that monster get away with this, then we are no better that him. That bastard cannot get away with holding Eddard Stark´s son hostage and threating his daughter.” The lords started to shout their agreements and they started to call to arms.

Chapter Text

JON

Jon was very glad that the meeting with the mountain clans had gone so well. But he was less glad that now everyone was looking at him in wonder and fear. By now everyone around him knew that he had risen from the dead. Jon didn’t regret having shown the lords the scars of his murder, it made sure that they didn’t take off his head and Jon doubted that he could come back from that.

The leaders of the mountain clans, the Mormont´s and the Glovers were with them on their way to White Harbor to try to get the support of the Manderlys, the Hornwoods and the Reeds.

Jon was very anxious to meet Howland Reed, who had sent word to Jon and Sansa, to let them know that he would meet them at White Harbor.

They would be arriving at White Harbor in the next few days. And after a month on the road from the keep of the First Flint to White Harbor he was tired of travelling. But it was worth it because soon Jon would have an answer to the question of who his mother was. Lord Howland was the only man alive to have a possible answer, and if he didn’t know who she had been, no one would now.

Sansa seemed convinced that Lyanna Stark was his mother and his father was Rhaegar Targaryen. She hadn’t said so in so many words, but Jon could see it in her eyes. Ser Davos and Lady Brienne seemed to think so too.

Jon tried to keep his expectations low as possible. Even if he was the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, he didn’t want to hope that he was trueborn. And did he even want to be a trueborn son? That meant that he had a claim on the Iron Thone. He really didn’t want to be the king, but if he was, that meant that he could raise more men to fight the Others.

While Jon was sitting there thinking on the repercussions of his parentage, Ser Davos came over and sat down beside him. It was now late evening and they had made camp several hours ago. Jon was now sitting in front of the tent that had been assigned to Sansa. Jon had made his bedroll in front of her tent every night. Normally he would have taken a tent as well, but he felt it was his duty to guard Sansa´s tent. But Jon wasn’t the only one that had taken up residence in front of it. Ghost and the hatchings had been sleeping near Jon in front of the fire. But Jon had a feeling that was because of Jon was sleeping there. The hatchings were now the size of hunting dogs. It was a little unnerving to see them grow so fast. They were growing much faster than Rhaegal and his brothers had grown at that time in their lives.

But now Rhaegal and Viserion were apparently making up for lost time.  Those two were growing at an alarming rate, but Rhaegal, as Jon had predicted was growing faster than any of the dragons.

Jon had been going almost every night to Rhaegal and Viserion, and every time he had gone on a dragon ride in the dark. Every time he had gone up, was as incredible as the first time he had gone. But Jon had decided to stay in camp tonight. Rhaegal and Viserion had to hide such a long way from the camp, that Jon didn’t think that he could make it back before down.

“Where did you get another valyrian steel sword?” Jon looked at Davos. The knight was staring at the sword in Jon´s hands. Jon had finally had time to properly clean and oil Darksister after decades of being locked away in maester Aemon´s chambers.

“Maester Aemon gave Darksister to me, along with the eggs.” The older man´s eyebrows rose high on his forehead.

“The maester not only gave you four dragon eggs but also one of the ancestral swords of his house?” Jon nodded quietly at that. He had been wondering if the maester had suspected something about his heritage. But suspecting Jon was the son of Rhaegar wasn’t enough to give him the sword or the eggs. There had to be another explanation.

“Do you think that the maester suspected something?” Yes, that was exactly what Jon thought. But he didn’t get a chance to reply.

“My lord, the scouts have spotted one of the Bolton hunting parties not a long way from here.” It was one of the former Baratheon men. “They seem to be after something or someone and haven’t noticed us.”

Jon had deliberately split up the army, so it was easier to travel faster and to avoid the hunting parties that the bastard of Bolton was sending out to look for Sansa.

Jon nodded at the man. “Gather around hundred men, we will follow them and see what has gotten their attention.” The officer nodded eagerly and went off to gather the men Jon had requested. At first Jon had been worried that the Baratheon men would be fanatics of the red god, that Stannis had taken for his own, but the more time he spent with them he realized that the men that had survived the slaughter were not the most devout. No, the fanatical ones had died with Stannis at Winterfell.

These men had followed Stannis because they had been loyal Baratheon men and they had followed Stannis because they respected him, as a lord and as a King. They had also told him that just before the battle, there had been something strange going on. Ramsay Snow had burned the supplies of the army and a lot of men had deserted that night because of it. They had also told him of whispers that had happened after the supplies had been burned. Stannis had planned an offering to the red god, but the person they had planned to burn had escaped before the burning.

Jon had an inkling on who it was Stannis had been planning to burn, but he didn’t dare to say anything. It was too horrible to mention to anyone.

Jon put Darksister back into its sheath and tied it around his waist alongside Longclaw. Jon didn’t trust anyone with the sword. It was too valuable to leave just anywhere. A valyrian steel sword was a lot of temptation for most people.

Ghost had already stood up and was getting ready to come along for the hunt. Jon turned to the dragons. He looked them over, he felt confident that if they came along with them, they wouldn’t get hurt but Charon and Umbriel could be easily spotted because of their coloring. But Oberon and Sycorax could blend into the dark forest around them.

Jon knelt to their level and ordered Charon and Umbriel to stay and watch over Sansa. They gave him a few chirps and demanded to be petted, then they left for Sansa´s tent, where she was sleeping.

He mentioned for Ghost, Sycorax and Oberon to follow him as he made his way to the horses. Ser Davos had decided to come with them, even though he wasn’t much of a warrior, according to himself.

As Jon mounted his horse, Ghost bounced off in the direction of the scouts and Jon and the men followed him, with Sycorax and Oberon following in the air, invisible in the darkness. He wasn’t sure how long they were riding before they got close to the hunting party of the bastard of Bolton.

They dismounted to get closer. The hunting party was around twenty men strong and they were surrounding two people, one of which was a young girl, that Jon recognized immediately. It was obvious because of the scars that adorned her face from greyscale. It was Shireen Baratheon. The other person was a young man that Jon didn’t recognize.

“Jon.” Ser Davos whispered in his ear. “That is Shireen and my son Devan.” Jon had never meet Devan Seaworth, but he knew that he had been one of the squires that Stannis had. Jon ordered some men to the right, so that they could attack from the right and from the rear by the men and from above by the dragons. He made sure that the men knew that Shireen and Devan were not to be harmed.

When the men were in position, Jon gave the order to attack.

It was a bloody and fiery chaos. The Bolton men were taken by surprise and tried to make a quick recovery. But they were poorly disciplined, greatly outnumbered and they were terrified at whatever was raining fire on them. They didn’t know that Jon had dragons and as far as they knew, all the dragons were dead.  Jon, Ghost and Ser Davos made sure to cut the Bolton´s from Shireen and Devan so they couldn’t use them as hostages.

It didn’t take long for them to defeat the Bolton hunting party. Ser Davos ran to his son and Shireen and hugged them tight. Devan had been using his body to shield the young girl from harm, and he had gotten a bloody nose and a black eye for his efforts from the bastard´s men. They had obviously been on the run for some time and looked to have run out of food a few days ago.

Jon walked over to them. The boy, Devan looked to be around fourteen and now that Jon was closer to him, he could see the resemblance between father and son. But the main difference between them was that Devan was obviously raised as a son of a landed knight, were as Ser Davos had retained the attitude of a sailor and a working man.

As Jon walked closer to them, Ghost joined them. “Are the two of you hurt?” Jon asked them. It was then he realized that he was covered in blood and soot from the fires that Sycorax and Oberon had let loose on the Bolton men. But that didn’t seem to bother Shireen and Devan at all. In fact, Shireen smiled at him and spoke. “We are fine lord Commander Snow.”

Jon nodded at her but didn’t correct her and say that he wasn’t the Lord Commander anymore. At this moment it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting them safely to back to camp.

“We should get to camp. We have a long march ahead of us tomorrow and we want rest a little before we go.” Two men came over with Jon´s and Ser Davos´s horses. They didn’t have horses to spare so they would have to double on the way back.

Devan would ride with his father and Shireen would ride with Jon. He put the princess on the horse and climbed on after her. The forest had turned so dark that the men had lit up torches so they could see where they were going, and even then, they had to go slowly so that they wouldn’t break the horse´s legs.

As they left the clearing, he heard a gasp from the young girl. She was looking up, he looked at what she had seen and saw that Sycorax and Oberon had flown low enough to be seen in the dark for a moment.

“Are those dragons?” She asked excitedly and turned to get a glimpse of the dragons again.

Jon nodded at her. “Aye, those are Sycorax and Oberon and we have two more at camp called Charon and Umbriel.” He remembered that when the young princess had been at the wall, she had truly enjoyed books on dragons and the Targaryens. He had even told her which books were most accurate of those that could be found in the library of Castle Black.

All the way back, the young princess had peppered Jon with questions on the dragons and everything that involved them.

They arrived at camp a few hours before dawn, and most of the men at the camp had woken up. The news of Jon having taken men to hunt for the Bolton men had apparently made its way through camp. They were met with cheers and hollers from the men.

Jon was helping princess Shireen down form the horse when Sansa approached them. And on her heels were Lady Brienne, Ice, Umbriel and Charon. The small dragons shrieked at seeing him and rushed over to him. Demanding petting from him after a job well done.

SANSA

She watched him approach the camp, with the young daughter of Stannis Baratheon in front of him and she had to admit, Jon looked like a hero from one of the songs she had loved so much as a child.

He sat astride his horse, all tall and handsome with a well-groomed beard and his hair tied back in a northern fashion. His enormous white direwolf by his side and two dragons flying over his head, followed by his valiant men, victorious after a battle and had rescued the young maiden.

For a man who had never enjoyed listening to songs, he was surprisingly good at being the hero from one. Sansa really wished he wouldn’t do that, jump headfirst into danger like the heroes from the songs, they always got themselves killed in the end. Like her father and Robb.

He had also been sleeping less than he should have. She knew that he went to his bedroll long after she had gone asleep and was awake long before her. Jon had to start taking better care of himself, or she would make him. She approached him as he was helping Lady Shireen down from his horse. Charon and Umbriel rushed to him to get his attentions. The way the dragons and Jon interacted never failed to put a smile on her face. Oberon and Sycorax had now landed by Jon and started to demand attention too.

“Are you all right?” She whispered to him. She couldn’t let the men hear how concerned she was with his wellbeing, that would undermine him in their eyes. Jon gave her one of his gentle smiles and nodded.

“Do you think that you could let Shireen stay with you until we find a place for her?” He asked her while looking sheepish. She nodded her consent and lead the young girl away from the men. Brienne and Ice followed on their heels.

Sansa asked a servant girl named Lyta, that had been assigned to her at the keep of the First Flints to get Shireen something to eat. Ice jumped into Sansa´s bed and made herself comfortable there while her mistress dug around in one of her chests for something that she could use to cloth the young girl now in her charge.

If her suspicions were correct and Jon really was the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, he would be Shireen´s closest living male relative and therefore responsible for her wellbeing. She was also the only living trueborn heir to the Stormlands so her political value was enormous. But the most important was to Sansa was that she was a young innocent girl that had nothing to do with all this craziness around her and she didn’t deserve everything that had happened to her.

Sansa knew the feeling all too well, to be only thought as a key to the North and not as a person, and she would not let that fate befall Shireen.

Sansa looked the young girl over, her clothes were ripped and worn, and her hair was a mess after her stay in the wilderness, but the girl had a strength about her.  Sansa figured that Shireen had to be strong to survive with the scars of her illness in a world where women were only priced for their looks and their abilities to give birth to children.

But Sansa couldn’t help but to wonder why Shireen and Devan had run away from Stannis´s camp.  Sansa would ask her what had happened tomorrow, not tonight, Shireen had to rest and gather her strength before anything else.

DAVOS

He had seen many strange things in his life. Seeing the man called Jon Snow step out of the funeral pyre he had been placed in with four dragons was definitely at the top of crazy things he had seen. Or maybe it was seeing the bigger dragons the young man had gotten from Essos. He couldn’t decide.

That young man continued to impress him again and again. Jon had even impressed Stannis and that was a hard thing to do. The man Davos had called king was a fair man, good and just. But then the red woman had come along and everything that Stannis was had gone, slowly but surely, he had been transformed into something else. In the end he hadn’t been Stannis, at least not the Stannis he knew.

After finding Shireen and Devan, Davos and Jon had taken Devan aside to ask him questions on how they had survived. The story was not pretty.

Devan had spoken in length of what had happened. He had told them that Devan had overheard the King and Queen talking in their tent one night and he had heard their plan. The Queen was talking the king into burning Shireen alive to melt the snow. The red woman had said that they needed king´s blood to stop the snow and they planned to use Shireen as sacrifice.

So, Devan had taken supplies for two and talked Shireen into following him. Devan had made sure that anyone following them would think to look west to the mountain clans after them, it made more sense for them to go there as they were closest, but then he and Shireen doubled back and headed to White Harbor. He had planned to find a ship bound to Essos, were neither her father nor the Lannisters could get them.

The boy was naïve if he thought that they couldn’t be caught in Essos, but he had managed to save Shireen from a horrible death, and for that Davos was glad and very proud of his son.

“What will happen to Shireen now that her father is dead? Will she become Queen?” The boys voice had been full of hope and wonder at the prospect of Shireen becoming Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Davos shook his head. No lord of the Seven kingdoms would follow a young girl as a queen after what had happened in the first dance of the dragons. Especially now that there may be a someone with a stronger claim to the throne than anyone else. Someone who had six dragons and a direwolf.

The Lord of the North admired Jon Snow, not just because he was an able fighter and had four dragons to his name that they knew of. It was also his dedication to protect Lady Sansa and his drive to save Lord Rickon and restore the Starks to their place as the Lords of Winterfell and Wardens of the North.

A lot of young men in Jon´s place would have made sure that Lady Sansa and Lord Rickon would met a rather bloody end, but not him. Jon was doing everything in his power to make sure that they survived and to protect them.

Davos admired that. He thought that Jon could be a good king, if he indeed was the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna. The more he thought about it the more he was sure it was true. Davos had grown up in fleabottom. Once Davos had come home from a long voyage and he had seen the Silver prince play his harp for the masses.  Rhaegar had covered his hair so most of the people didn’t recognize him, but Davos was a man well-traveled. He had seen the royal family a few times from afar and he had known the man immediately.

It had been hard not to, when you saw his handsome face and were familiar with his reputation. And the fact that there was a kingsguard nearby making sure that no harm came to him.

Davos could see a lot of Rhaegar in Jon. Sure Jon had the Stark coloring and the long face, but he had Rhaegar´s nose, his eyebrows, his jaw and ears as far as Davos could tell. Jon had the beautiful valyrian features set in the face of a Stark.

Davos could see that like with the Lady Sansa, who had the Tully features, the Stark looks took the features of old Valyria and made them more beautiful.

So, it would stand to reason that Jon was of the blood of old Valyria, the blood of the dragon. Davos decided to let Devan sleep. He would need it because they would have to ride early that morning. The sooner they reached White Harbor the better.

JON

The next few days were exhausting for Jon. He had to hold meetings with the lords of the North that had followed them. He had explained what had happened and what had happened to make Shireen and Devan run away from Stannis´s camp that night. The lords of course were outraged at the late king that he would have burned his own blood.

Jon had announced that until they could find an older relative of hers that could take care of her until she came of age and could take up the title the Lady of Storm´s End, that Shireen would be under his protection and that of house Stark.

The lords were quick to agree to that. Jon thought that was strange, normally the northern lords were unruly and had opinions on everything, but every time Jon had voiced an opinion, they were quick to agree and if he asked something to be done, they rushed over one another to see it done. Jon didn’t like it. He had never seen the lords of the North behave like that, unless it had been taking orders from Ned Stark.

It may be because of the fact he and Sansa had been the once to gather the lords to retake Winterfell. And between him and Sansa, he was the one with the military experience, he hoped that was the case, he would never try to take Winterfell from his trueborn siblings…or cousins.

He also knew that like the lord didn’t like taking orders from a girl, but they seemed to respect Sansa after she had given them the speech at the keep of the First Flints. But there was one that annoyed Jon more than the others and that was the unmarried Lord Donnel Flint. He had been hounding her and following her everywhere, and it anger Jon more than he wanted to admit.

Words couldn’t express how happy he was when they arrived at the gates of White Harbor. As they journeyed to New Castle the people of the city were going out to the streets and cheering for them. A few of the children came out to try to pet Ghost and Ice and people were pointing to the sky where the dragons were flying overhead.

Sansa was smiling beautifully at everyone from her horse beside him and waving at the people of White Harbor. They really loved her, and he couldn’t help but to marvel at her as they rode through the streets of the city of the Manderlys.

Jon turned his head back at four of his sworn men, they nodded at him and escorted the red woman to the harbor to find a ship bound for Essos. After the story Devan had told Jon and Ser Davos, he had talked to Shireen and a couple of the officers. They had all confirmed that Stannis would not have thought of burning his own daughter by himself, and most likely Melisandre had suggested it to Stannis, and he had agreed.  When Jon had confronted Melisandre, she had confirmed his suspicion and he had decided to let her follow them to White Harbor and there she would be escorted to a ship to Essos.  He made it very clear to her that the only reason she was allowed to live, was because of Devan and the fact he had managed to save Shireen.

She had nodded demurely, which was very out of character for her, but after the death of Stannis and seeing how wrong she had been had made her humbler.

They arrived at the New Castle courtyard and they could see Lord Manderly, Lord Hornwood and Lord Reed standing there waiting for them. To their surprise Lady Maege Mormont the Lady of bear island and Lord Galbart Glover Lord of the Deepwood motte were there with them.

Lady Mormont and Lord Glover looked a little haggard, but despite that they looked very happy and very pleased to see their family members, Lady Lyanna and Lord Robett.

Lord Manderly was often called the fat man. But Jon thought that was the jealous ones, that lacked his wit and intelligence. Lord Manderly walked over to them with a big smile and his arms. “Lady Stark, Lord Snow, be welcome to New Castle. We are very glad to host you and offer you guest rights.” The man put his hands on his belly and gave them a deep bow. Sansa dismounted her horse and walked over to the Lord of New Castle. She gave the lord a respectful curtsy as was customary.

“Thank you, Lord Manderly we are honored that you would host us here in your home.”  By this time Jon had dismounted and walked over to them to introduce himself. He gave the lords a bow and shook their hands.

“Ah, Lord Snow, why I must say that you look just like Ned.” Lord Hornwood was a man that was around Ned Starks age, but he was not as tall nor broad as the lord of Winterfell had been. Jon nodded at the man with a small smile.

“Jon, we meet again.”  The Lord of Greywater Watch was smaller than the other Lords and he looked a little younger than Ned Stark would have if he had lived. He had brown hair and moss green eyes. Jon could not remember meeting the Lord of Greywater Watch, so he must have been referring to when Jon had been a new born.

“My lord, I have been hoping to have a word with you.” Jon hoped that he was conveying his meaning with his tone alone. The small crannogman gave Jon a smile and nodded. “How about tonight, I believe you have waited long enough.” Jon nodded his consent.

Then Jon heard the gasps of the gathered Lord. They were all looking up at the dragons that had decided to fly over to the castle and were playing in the air.

“So, it is true, you really have dragons.” Lord Manderly gasped with his voice filled with awe and joy.

That made Jon raise an eyebrow, news travelled fast to the White Harbor apparently.  But he wasn’t surprised, it was logical that the lord of New Castle had spies everywhere.

His eyes couldn’t help but to wander over to Lord Reed.  He seemed resigned at seeing the dragons. 

Sansa, Jon and the lords and ladies that had arrived with them were shown to their rooms.  Jon was happy that again he was put in a room beside Sansa, he felt better knowing that she was close by. If there was trouble, he was close by her to help her. Jon had never felt this way before. He had never been so protective over anyone in his life.

He had always been protective of Arya, but for some reason it was different than this.  Jon knew that Sansa had Brienne to help defend her, and Ice was always now with her and the little direwolf had grown much bigger and stronger than she had been before.

But he felt that he always had to be at arm’s reach for her if she should need him for anything at all. Even if it was just to talk or listen to her.

There was a bath waiting for him, thank the gods. He hurried as much as he could bathing and getting dressed.

When he left the room to find the dragons and let them into his room, Ghost had planted himself in front of the fireplace and showed no intension of moving.

Jon had wanted the hatchlings to fly as much as they could for the day before they turned in for the night.  Jon had contemplated to let them be outside but decided against it for now. He didn’t want them to be outside for the night at White Harbor without him for the first time. No, he decided that they would be outside when Jon and Sansa took back Winterfell and rescued Rickon from the Bolton bastard.  By then everyone would have seen Rhaegal and Viserion, and the bigger dragons could help to keep them from doing anything that put either the people around them in danger or themselves.

He arrived at the courtyard and saw the dragons were still flying over the city and playing in the sky. He had been standing there for a few minutes admiring them, when they noticed him and landed in front of him.  They chirped and cooed at him and they all wanted their petting.  They really loved it when they were petted, one of the reasons they loved Sansa as she always indulged them.

He led them to his room and left them in front of the fireplace with Ghost, while he went to the feast that Lord Manderly was throwing for them. He was dreading this feast more than the feast that the Flint had thrown them. Lord Manderly was as northern as they came, but his feasts were famous in the north for being the most southern feasts in the north.

As he was closing the door to his room, a young woman with green hair came stalking over to him. While her hair was dyed green, her eyebrows were still blond. Jon knew who she was right away. It was Lord Manderlys younger granddaughter by his heir, Wylis Manderly, Wylla Manderly.

“Lord Snow, I was hoping that you would escort me to the feast.” Her voice was high and thin. Jon cleared his throat and nodded reluctantly, he really didn’t want to, but he made sure that she couldn’t see that he wanted anything but.

He offered her his arm and lead her to the hall of the merman.  It was already noisy, and the tables were groaning under the weight of food on them.  Lady Wylla lead him to the head table and sat them down in a seat of honor, by the Lords. This time he had arrived before Sansa to the great hall of the lord they were visiting. It made him very uncomfortable, but perhaps it was because they had to attend a feast.

Jon had been given a seat beside Lord Wyman himself.  It made Jon even more uncomfortable as he was not used to be shown such honor.  But he gave the Lord of White Harbor his thanks and took his seat. Lady Wylla was seated next to him. She gave him a wide pretty smile, she seemed happy at being at the feast.

It wasn’t until Sansa entered the great hall on Ser Davos´s arm and with lady Brienne trailing them that he could breathe easier. After them Lord Donnel enter the great hall with Lady Wynafryd Manderly. They both looked like they had swallowed a lemon.

Jon was sure that Lord Donnel had wanted to escort Sansa to the feast, but he couldn’t imagine why Lady Wynafryd was so sour. It wasn’t until he saw the glares Lady Wynafryd sent her younger sister that Jon suspected that they had gotten into an altercation. Lady Wylla had apparently won the fight if the smug grins she sent her elder sister were anything to go by.

The feast dragged on and on, much to Jon´s horror. Soon he was forced to the dance floor by Lady Wylla, who had all but demanded a dance. He tried his best not to step on her toes, but he was not very successful.

“So, Lord Snow. Is there a Lady you have hidden away that I should be horribly jealous of?” Wylla had a playful grin on her face.  Jon couldn’t help but to feel confused at that.

“I have been a sworn brother of the Night´s Watch for years, my lady. We do not take wives nor do we father children.” He was sure that his voice was laced with mild annoyance that he felt, but he tried to keep it out tone.

The young woman giggled at that. “But from what I hear you have been discharged from the Night´s Watch, so the vows do not apply to you anymore.” She got him there.

“My lady, I have been busy with other things I am afraid.”

“Yes, hatching dragons and gathering an army so you and Lady Sansa can retake Winterfell and rescue your brother Rickon.” She smiled at him as she said that. “Lofty aspirations Lord Snow.”

As the evening dragged on, Jon grew more and more restless. He wanted to find Lord Reed and demand the truth from him, but he had to restrain himself.

Finally, he looked at Lord Howland and the smaller man gave him a small nod, signaling that the time had come. It was finally time for Jon to know the truth.

Chapter Text

JON

Jon followed lord Reed out of the hall. “Let´s talk in your room, more privacy.” The older man stated. Jon nodded and lead him to the room that had been assigned to him by lord Manderly.

As they entered, Jon saw Ghost laying on the floor with Oberon snuggled close to him. Soon the pale green dragon would be too big to snuggle against the direwolf. The other three dragons had made themselves comfortable in front of the fireplace.

“I never thought that I would see a dragon in my life.” The Lord of Greywater Watch said with his voice filled with wonder. “What are their names?”

“The green one is Oberon, the silver and gold is Umbriel, the red, golden and black one is Charon and the blue one is Sycorax.” The dragons were so tired after the day that they didn’t even stir from their sleep.

Jon gestured for the man to sit in the chair by the table and sat himself on the other chair that was closer to the fireplace. After coming back from the dead, Jon had grown fond of high temperatures that others would have found unbearable.

Lord Reed pulled a small leather-bound journal from his pocket, along with a few letters that looked like official documents.

“I had thought that Ned would have told you about your mother long before now.” The older man´s eyes were filled with sadness and grief as he said that. “But perhaps I should start at the beginning.”

Jon sat straighter in his chair in anticipation of finally hearing about his mother.

“It started at Harrenhall, I was being bullied by some squires and lady Lyanna came to my defense.  The Starks were very kind to me and gave me clean clothes to wear and let me stay with them for the remainder of the tourney.” He stopped for a moment, he seemed so sad taking about those days.

“There were rumors that the crown prince was using the tourney to gather support to overthrow his father, Aerys was getting more and more erratic and mad and a lot of the lords wanted to get rid of him. But when Aerys showed up at the tourney, all those plans must have gone out the window.” Jon couldn’t help but to wonder what it would have been like for the seven kingdoms if Rhaegar´s scheme had worked the way he had planned.

“Now, as you know, the crown prince went past his wife and crowned Lyanna the queen of love and beauty.” Jon nodded at that, in the history books that moment was described as the moment when all smiles died.

“But what you probably don’t know is that Rhaegar crowned her because she had participated in the tourney itself, as the mystery knight. She was defending my honor and knocked the squires of their horses to teach them a lesson in humility.” This was a shock for Jon. Lyanna Stark, the rose of Winterfell had competed in the tourney of Harrenhall. He was amazed at this revelation, apparently Lyanna had been just like Arya. Jon could see his little sister doing that for a friend.

“Rhaegar apparently found out and helped her escaped from Aerys´s men. The king had declared that they mystery knight was no friend of his, and he was supposed to be caught. After that they started to meet in secret, Rhaegar and Lyanna and they fell in love. Soon after Elia gave birth to prince Aegon, and Elia and Rhaegar found out that she couldn’t have more children.” Jon knew this, it was common knowledge that the princess couldn’t have children after prince Aegon.

“Then the news came that Rhaegar and Lyanna had disappeared and no one knew where they were. Rickard and Brandon Stark seemed convinced that she had been kidnapped. But there were others that weren’t so sure. There were rumors flying around that they had run away together. Then Aerys burned Rickard alive and had Brandon strangle himself, trying to reach him as you well know.” Yes, Jon was very familiar with this, the act that had really started the rebellion. Most people say that Rhaegar had started the rebellion by taking Lyanna, but a lot of people seem to forget that the kingdoms would never have gone to war for a woman, even as important as Lyanna Stark was, if she had in fact been kidnapped, it wasn’t enough to go to war.

However, if the king murdered a lord paramount and his heir, that would cause a war to break out. Jon supposed that it was more poetic that Rhaegar had started a war for his lady Lyanna, rather than Aerys burning and strangling people.

“You most likely know most of what happened in the rebellion, Ned wrote to me several times and told me how you seemed dedicated to read every book in the library before you turned thirteen.” Lord Howland grinned at him. Jon knew alright, he knew that Tywin Lannister had waited until he was certain about who would win, when he threw his lot with the rebels. He knew that Tywin had ordered the death of Elia and her children, so that it would be easier for him to maneuver his daughter into the role of the queen. It didn’t take a genius to figure out his plans.

Jon also knew about the fight that had happened between Robert and Lord Stark. All the books said that they had only managed to reconcile after the death of Lyanna.

But now the man had turned sad. The grief seemed to take over his whole being. “Then after the fight with Robert, Ned went to break the siege of Strom´s End, there we heard that Lyanna was being kept in the Tower of Joy, a few of us went with him. There we found three of the kingsguard, Ser Gerold Hightower, Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Arthur Dayne. We fought and Ser Arthur would have killed Ned if I hadn’t stabbed him from behind.” Jon said nothing, he had felt something was amiss with the story of Ned Stark besting Ser Arthur. Ned Stark was a capable swordsman, but he was no sword of the morning. Jon also remembered when Bronze Yohn Royce had come to Winterfell with his son, so that the young man could take the black. The lord of Runestone had defeated the lord of Winterfell in a spar. Jon doubted that if Ned had bested Ser Arthur, Bronze Yohn couldn’t have defeated him.

The lord of Runestone was renowned as a military commander, not as a great swordsman.

“We found Lyanna in the tower, she was dying from a birthing fever. She made Ned promise to keep you save from Robert.” There it was, the confirmation that he was the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar. “She had just enough time to name you and direct us to these documents.” Lord Howland pointed at the letters that he had set on the table.

“These documents are a proof that Rhaegar and Lyanna were married, and that the High Septon had given his permission for Rhaegar to have a second wife on the grounds that Elia couldn’t have more children. There is also an official document from Elia Martell, that she knew and approved of the arrangement.” This baffled Jon, Elia Martell had given her consent of this arrangement?

Jon had thought himself prepared for this, but he could feel that in this moment, he was not. He could feel a wet nose bump into his hand. Jon looked at Ghost, who had risen and walked over to him. The enormous direwolf looked at him with his intelligent red eyes and laid his head in Jon´s lap. The white direwolf always knew how to drag him from his thoughts.

The smaller man pushed a letter to Jon. “This document was supposed to be an announcement of your birth. But as Robert was crowned king, your parentage could obviously not be declared for all to know. Nor could you keep the name your mother wanted you to have, Ned had to give you a new one to hide you from Robert.” Jon looked at the document. He could see the name that his mother had wanted to give him.

Aenar Targaryen, the prince of Dragonstone.

Jon just stared at his name. This was the name his mother had wanted him to have? The name of the first Targaryen of Dragonstone. Aenar the exile.

Howland

As he left the room that was inhabited by the rightful king of the seven kingdoms, Howland couldn’t help but to wonder, what had Eddard been thinking.

Eddard Stark had been a good friend to Howland, but now Howland couldn’t help but to wonder what his plans had been for Jon, or Aenar as his mother had wanted to name him. He didn’t want to slander a man long dead and gone, but had he ever planned to tell the young man of his heritage?

Would Eddard ever have raised his banners for Jon to take back what was taken from him? If Howland was honest with himself, he would have to say no. He doubted that Ned would have gone against Robert, but if he had to choose between Jon and Robert who would he have chosen?

The man who was like a brother to him and had condoned the murder of babes and women or the boy he had raised as his own? Howland hoped with all his heart that Ned would have chosen Jon. The young man would make a lot better king than the fat king Robert, as he was called behind his back. The man was famous for his wide girth and his lust for food, wine and women. Howland doubted that Jon would fall to the same vises as the usurper.

Howland had his doubts that Robert had fought in the rebellion just because Lyanna had been taken. He wasn’t alone in his suspicions, there were many who thought that the lord of Storm´s End had wanted the throne just as much as he had wanted Lyanna. The way Robert had hunted down all the Targaryens he could, was strong evidence to support this theory, but as the man was dead and couldn’t be asked, this was all this would be, a theory.

Jojen had told him that this moment would come before he had left Greywater Watch to find Brandon Stark. That Howland would have to meet the son of his friend, Lyanna and tell him the truth of his parentage.

Howland could still remember the last time he would ever see his son alive. Jojen had looked so determined to do his duty for the world, how could Howland do anything less? Howland had a duty to uphold and he had to see the son of Lyanna Stark crowned the king of the seven kingdoms. It was Jon´s destiny to unite the seven kingdoms, but if he didn’t, they had no chance against the Others that were gaining strength from beyond the wall.

The first part was now done, he had told the king of his parentage, and now Howland had to talk the Northern lords into following Jon as the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna. Though Howland doubted that it would be that hard.

The lords of the North were impressed with Jon. Not only had he defended the Wall against thousands of Wildlings, he had managed to make peace with them afterwards and get at least three thousand to fight for him and house Stark to help take back Winterfell. Sure, the lords hated the Wildlings, but the ones that hated them the most were saying that the Others were back and that the King and Lady Sansa had proof of it. And they would rather be fighting beside the Wildlings, than be fighting for the dead.

They also thirsted for vengeance against the Lannisters and the Freys along with the Boltons. The Freys and Lannisters had just as much a part in the demise of King Robb as the Boltons. Without the Lannisters, the other two houses wouldn’t have dared to move against the young wolf.

Crowning the person who had the best claim on the iron throne would be a blow to the Lannisters. Robert Baratheon had been crowned because he had a grandmother who had been a Targaryen, which had given him the best claim on the iron throne, as long as no one with the name Targaryen came along. And now Jon had the Targaryen name and he was the son of Rhaegar which gave him a better claim than anybody else living.

There was the small problem of the boy Aegon Targaryen, who had landed in the Stormlands, but his son, Jojen had assured him that the boy was not they son of Elia Martell and he had no proof that he was. Thank the gods.

Jon on the other hand had proof of who he was and his dragons. The Targaryen pretender was also undermining himself by hiring the golden company. The sellsword company was famous for its hatred of Targaryens and for supporting Blackfyres.

The Wull and the Flint had cornered Howland just before the feast. They had wanted to talk to him about the king’s mother and who she really was. Howland had told them that they would talk after Howland had informed Jon of the identity of his mother.

That seemed to pacify them for now, but Howland knew that as soon as they saw him now, they would pounce. Howland was on his way back to the great hall now, he had to get this over with.

Now was the time to reveal the secret of the king´s parentage once and for all. Most of the lords suspected that Jon had the blood of the dragon in him, and some like lord Manderly and the Wull and the Flint, most likely suspected that he was the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna.

Lord Manderly was one of the shrewdest man Howland had ever come across in his life and the leaders of the mountain clans were very smart themselves. Howland also knew that Lady Sansa suspected the truth. For someone so young, she was hard to read.

But he had seen that she cared for the king, and that she would stand beside him when it came to it. Howland was sure that Jon would need her before the end.

Howland had left the journal of his dear friend, Lyanna with her son, but he had taken the documents with him after the king had looked them over. They weighted heavy in his pocket, but not as heavy as the object in his other pocket that Howland had not showed King Jon.

Soon Howland would present the king with it, but right now was not the time, first he had to get the lords of the north to declare for king Jon.

SANSA

Jon and lord Reed had been gone for some time and Sansa was getting worried for Jon. Not for the first time this evening she thought to herself that she should have gone with Jon and the lord of Greywater Watch. To be there for Jon, but she knew that she couldn’t. This was something that Jon had to do alone, and she was needed here, to converse with the lords.

Sansa also didn’t want the lords thinking that Jon needed his hand held for every little thing, and they would have thought that if she had gone with him. The lords needed to see Jon and herself as pillars of strength in these trying times.

The lords at this moment were talking loudly about the next course of action. All gathered in the hall agreed on that the Boltons needed to go.

“I would like to know how Lord Snow got his dragons?” Lord Hornwood had stood up and was shouting over the crowd. “They say that only Targaryens can hatch dragons, so I would be very interested to know how he performed such a feat.”

Now Sansa was getting worried, but she didn’t let it show. This statement had brought silence to the hall. But then the Liddle stood up.

“Who in the seven hells cares how he did it.” His deep voice echoed of the stone walls. “I am just glad that he has dragons so that we can survive the long night when it comes, and hopefully after, we can make the Lannisters and the Freys pay for what they have done.” This was met with cheers from the gathered Lords. If Sansa had to guess on who was more hated in the north, the Lannisters and the Freys or the Others, she would have to guess the Lannisters and Freys.

This made the lord of Hornwood scoff. The Liddle turned red with anger at being disregarded and they were soon shouting at one another, which of course drew the others into the shouting match with them.

Ser Davos, who had been sitting beside her quietly for some time, leaned over to her and whispered. “I think this is getting out of hand, milady.” She agreed with his there.

Before Sansa could take charge of the gathering, a voice broke through the shouting.

“My lords, my I speak for a moment.” Sansa hadn’t noticed Lord Reed´s return. He had returned to the hall and somehow entered without anyone noticing. Sansa noticed that Jon wasn’t with him and that worried her. Was Jon alright? What had happened?

She didn’t have time to worry about Jon, because the Flint started to speak.

“Lord Reed, can you shed light on why Jon Snow has dragons?”

The small man nodded. “Yes, indeed I can, I shall tell you the tale, but I have to insist that you all listen without interrupting me while I do so.” Sansa looked around and saw that the lords didn’t look happy with that ultimatum, but they non the less complied.

Lord Reed was a good storyteller, that was for sure. He wove the story of the tourney of Harrenhall and the rebellion so that every person in the hall was enraptured with the tale. The tragic tale of Rhaegar and Lyanna had most of the ladies in tears but Sansa only felt sadness for Jon for never having known his parents.

Lord Reed produced letters out of his pocket and handed it first to Lord Manderly to read, who passed it down to the others so they could verify the authenticity of the documents. Sansa didn’t need the letters to know the truth. When Sansa heard Lord Reed tell the entire hall that Jon´s parents had married on the isle of faces, she knew that it was the truth.

When lord Reed was done with his tale, the hall was silent. Everyone had believed that Rhaegar had kidnapped Lyanna and raped her. That had been the truth for the last twenty years but now they were being told that it had been a lie.

They had even seen the proof that Elia Martell had known about Rhaegar marrying another woman and she had approved of it.

“My lords.” The crannogman continued. “I firmly believe that we are best served by throwing our support behind Jon of house Targaryen. I believe that he is the man to lead us through the long night.”

Lord Reed had barely finished speaking when Lord Robett Glover spoke up. “He is a Targaryen, Lord Reed. Don’t you remember what his grandfather did to Rickard Stark? I say we crown Rickon as the king in the north. He is the trueborn son of Eddard Stark.”

This made Sansa see red. how dare he use her grandfather as argument to dissuade the other lords to support Jon, and how dare he liken Jon to the mad king? Jon was nothing like him.

“My lords.” Sansa made sure that her voice was firm as steel. “My father loved Jon like his own son. Jon and my brother Robb may have been cousins, but they were as close as any brothers should be and my brother Rickon is a child and cannot lead us against the Others.” She knew that it would be a good idea to mention lord Eddard and their chosen king and how much they loved Jon to endear him to the lords.

“Jon was the first to start gathering men to help me take back Winterfell, I didn’t even have to ask. He has always dedicated himself to house Stark and the north, and this is how you repay him lord Robett? By comparing him to the mad king? Jon died for the north. And then he came back to continue to fight for it.” The Glover heir had the decency to look ashamed of himself.

“My lords, I would have us support Jon of houses Targaryen and Stark, and not just because he has the best claim on the iron throne, but because I know he will always fight for us and he would do us proud as King.”

“Aye, I agree with Lady Sansa, I don’t care who his sire was, he was raised by Eddard Stark and I know that Ned made damn sure that Jon Targaryen followed the old ways, the ways of the north.” The Wull had stood up and was throwing his fist in the air. This was followed by more cheers.

“I would like to know what the lady of Storm´s End thinks of this.” Lord Robett had clearly not given up. What on earth did he have against Jon?

All eyes turned to Shireen Baratheon. The young girl was looking a little nervous at being the center of attention, but she recovered quickly.

“I will support my cousin Jon Targaryen, and as the only living Baratheon and the lady of Storm´s End I recognize no other king but Jon Targaryen.” This statement was met with cheers from all sides of the hall. Sansa could see the pride in Ser Davos´s eyes as he looked at the lady of Storm´s End.

Lord Robett looked like he was sucking on a dornish lemon, he had probably expected Shireen to push for herself to be crowned queen instead of Jon. Sansa would have to keep an eye on Robett Glover, she didn’t like how he seemed to be pushing for anyone but Jon to be crowned.

This behavior made Sansa wary of the man. Sansa looked at Ser Davos beside her. The knight seemed to be thinking the same thing.

JON

He didn’t know how long he had been sitting in front of the fireplace with Umbriel in his lap. He had been thinking about the news that Lord Reed had brought him.

Sansa had been right, of course she had been. She was one of the most, if not the most intelligent person Jon had ever met.

Jon was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was a trueborn, when he had lived his life as a bastard. But Jon was very grateful that Sansa had told him, her suspicions about his parentage, so that he had time to assimilate to the change in his life, he didn’t want to think about what it would have been like to have no warning and have all this information just dumped on him.

He couldn’t help the resentment he felt at his uncle, Lord Eddard. Why could he just not tell him before Jon decided to go to the wall? Had he wanted Jon to take his vows before he found out that he had the best claim on the throne? So, that Jon couldn’t try to take it back? He didn’t want to believe that it was the case, but it wasn’t looking very good for Lord Eddard. But the man was dead, and Jon would never know what he had planned for him.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a knock on his door. Jon called for the person to enter. Jon had to admit that he was a little surprised to see Ser Davos enter the room.

“The lords would like to see you.” Jon raised an eyebrow at that. Had lord Reed decided to tell them of his heritage? That thought made his stomach drop. 

Jon stood up and started to walk out the door when he noticed that the dragons and Ghost were following him. He stopped for a moment to contemplate if he should bring them, if lord Reed had told them that he was the trueborn son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, the dragons could be a boon. The lords knew that the Others were coming and more than half of them had seen the proof with their very own eyes, and they knew that dragons would help them win against the dead.

And if someone attacked him, they could defend him long enough to reach Sansa and get her out of here and to safety.

So, Jon decided to bring them with him to the hall. The walk felt longer that it should have felt like. He felt that he was walking to his death.

When they arrived at the hall, the door was opened for them. Jon didn’t like the silence that had filled the hall, it wasn’t usual for a hall to be filled with northern lords and for it to be silent. Jon walked to the middle of the hall and waited.

The only thing that kept Jon calm was the fact that Ghost was feeling at ease and Sansa giving him a small, encouraging smile. Her eyes seemed to shine with happiness as she stood along with the other lords all around him.

Lord Reed approached him, and took a stance beside Jon. He was holding something in his hands that was covered with a black and red cloth.

There was silence for a short moment, but then to his side Jon heard a sword being drawn from its scabbard. Jon looked and saw that it had been the Flint of the mountain clans. The sound was followed by all the other lords drawing their swords.  They stood there like statues with their swords drawn and by their sides and waited for something.

Lord Reed cleared his throat before he spoke. “All hail, King Jon of house Targaryen, the first of his name, the king of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the first men, lord of the seven kingdoms, protector of the realm, defender of the faith, the last dragon, the white wolf, the undying and father of dragons.” While he had been speaking, he had unveiled what he had been holding in his hands. It was a crown made of valyrian steel with square rubies inlaid in it. The crown of Aegon the conqueror.

Jon was staring at the man beside him in shock, of all the things that Jon had expected to happen, this was not one of them. The smaller man put the crown of Aegon the dragon on Jon´s head. When the crown was on safely on his head the smaller man backed away.

“Long may he reign.”

“LONG MAY HE REIGN.” All the lords of the north shouted so loudly that Jon was sure that he would go deaf.

Then, as one the lords of the North knelt.

Chapter Text

DAENERYS

She was startled out of her sleep by a horrible explosion that resonated though out the city and the whole pyramid shook like a leaf in the wind. Dany could feel her heart in her throat and cold sweat run down her back. The entire room was shaking, and the great chandelier was threating to fall to the floor.

Missande had been sleeping next to her and Dany had never seen her friend so afraid before. Her face had gone chalk white and her eyes were the size of dinner plates as the translator clutched the thin silk cover close to her chest.

Ser Barristan and Greyworm barged into the queen´s bedroom to protect their queen. Their faces had gone grey with fear and Dany could feel something horrible was happening. Had the sons of the Harpy finally done something to get inside the pyramid of the queen? She jumped out of her bed and rushed to the window to see where the noise had come from. What she saw horrified her more than the sons of the Harpy.

The window looked over the city and she could see what had happened. There on the side of the great pyramid was a great hole that had been blown out of the largest of the pyramids. And at the opening she could see Rhaegal and Viserion roaring in anger. Smoke rose into the air and she could see the molten stones everywhere around them.

Ser Barristan, Greyworm and Missande rushed to her side and stared in shock at the two large dragons that had decided to break themselves out the pyramid. They had apparently broken free of the chains and blown a hole to escape their imprisonment.

Beside her, Dany could feel Missande shake with fear. Missande had been afraid of the dragons ever since Rhaegal had snapped at her.

Rhaegal spread his great emerald wings and took flight with Viserion following close behind him. Dany couldn’t help but to smile at that, they had missed her and wanted to come to her. With her heart filled with joy, she rushed out to the balcony and waited for her dragons to come to her. They must have missed her greatly to break out of their confinement to see her.

Dany hadn’t had time to visit them in the past few weeks, she had been so busy helping the people of Meereen. It wasn’t because of Rhaegal and Viserion had been in a bad mood ever since she had put them in the pyramid for their own good and she was afraid of them, no definitely not.

But they never came to Dany as she stood on her balcony. They turned north west and disappeared into the horizon, roaring so loudly that they could have woken the dead.

Where were they going? Why were they not coming to their mother? They couldn’t be angry with her; she was their mother and knew what was best for them. Ser Barristan, Greyworm and Missande had followed her to the balcony to get a better view of what was happening.

Had the sons of the Harpy done something to her dragons to make them leave? She had to find out. Dany turned back into the room and grabbed Missande with her so that the other woman could help her change her clothes. When she had changed into something more appropriate for the queen of Meereen, the rightful queen of the seven kingdoms and the mother of dragons, she rushed out of her rooms with Ser Barristan and Greyworm after her.

It took some time for them to make their way down the pyramid to the hole her children had made into the wall of their home. When they arrived, she could see that the damage that they had done. The scene was filled with unsullied trying to keep everyone from coming and investigating for themselves.

She could feel their stares on her as she passed. Of course, they were looking at her, she was the silver queen, the mother of dragons, breaker of chains and the rightful queen of the seven kingdoms and the most beautiful woman in the world and quite possible that had ever lived. It was given that she would be started at in adoration.

Dany could hear Greyworm start issuing orders to the unsullied. But she was transfixed on the smoking ruin of the wall. The smoke rose into the sky and it was climbing higher and higher with every passing moment. The rock that had been used for the wall was now half melted on one side and on the other side of the hole it was completely melted. It seemed that Rhaegal´s fires burned hotter than his brothers did. Dany had never seen Drogon or Viserion´s fire do this much damage to stone yet. But Dany knew that it was only time before her Drogon would easily melt stones with his flame and together they would take back her birthright that had been denied to her since birth.

Dany walked into the hole with her faithful lord commander of her queen´s guard after her. He was trying to dissuade her from going in the dragonpit, but she had to know what had happened.

No one could find any evidence that the sons of the Harpy had anything to do with what had happened, but Dany didn’t need any evidence, she knew that her enemies were trying to destroy her, and they had started by harming her children and making them leave, but Rhaegal and Viserion would be back soon, they wouldn’t abandon her, they were her children and they needed her.

But she would make the sons of the Harpy pay. With fire and blood.

TYRION

He had been in Meereen for a couple of weeks now and he had to admit, he wasn’t impressed. Sure, the city itself was beautiful and as foreign as he had expected, but there was so much poverty and sickness in the city that Tyrion was hard pressed to figure out which was worse, Meereen or Fleabottom. Tyrion had to admit, this was not what he had expected at all when he had talked to magister Illyrio.

The magister had told him of a beautiful young queen with three growing dragons, who was both kind and gentle. Who ruled with wisdom and mercy.

There hadn’t been dragons in Meereen for months now. The black dragon had been seen in the Dothraki sea, creating chaos and the other two had been locked under the great pyramid until they had blown a gigantic hole and flown away. They hadn’t been seen since.

Tyrion had come to the court of Daenerys Targaryen to see her dragons rather than to serve the dragon queen. Yes, he had little choice but to serve her because he was wanted by his demon of a sister for killing her monster of a son, which he didn’t do and the killing of their father, which he did do.

So, imagine his disappointment that there were no dragons anywhere in the blasted city.

All his life he had wanted to see a dragon, and when finally, dragons had been hatched back into the world, he had been on the other side of it. Then he travelled all the way here to see them, and they had vanished.

If he hadn’t met so many people, including Ser Barristan the Bold, swearing up and down that they had seen the dragons, Tyrion would have thought it to be a lie. He had also seen the hole the two who had broken out of the pyramid had left in their wake. The enormous hole that they had left when they broke out was compelling evidence that dragons were back in the world. He had studied the hole the two dragons had left in their escape and it seemed like one of the dragons breathed fire that burned hotter than the others. Tyrion couldn’t help but find that very curious. He had talked with Ser Barristan and according to him it seemed that the dragon that had breathed the hotter flame was the green and bronze one, Rhaegal.

Tyrion had only once seen this done to stone and that was at Harrenhall, where Balerion the black dread had laid waste to the castle and killed all the inhabitants. It seemed that the green dragon had a little of the dread in him.

Another disappointment was the dragon queen herself. She was as beautiful as she had been described, but as his sweet sister had demonstrated many times, beauty wasn’t everything.

Tyrion found her ruling very disappointing. Her mission to eradicate slavery was impressive and Tyrion admired that goal. But the silver queen didn’t seem to know what to do, now that slavery was no more in Meereen. She seemed to think that ruling was sitting on a throne and listening to complaints of the people and looking pretty, but in reality, that was only a small part of the duties of a monarch.

Tyrion had also heard what she had done to the masters. While he agreed that they needed to die, crucifying them was many steps too far. Her eye for an eye mentality would not help her in Westeros, where people still remembered her father, the mad king all too well and her ruthlessness would not help them forget.

Tyrion walked into the council chamber where all the other of the queen´s advisers were gathered. Tyrion´s eyes immediately sought out Ser Barristan Selmy, the queen´s lord commander of the queen´s guard.

Tyrion thought that the knight looked older and older with every passing day. The stress of the past months was clearly getting to him.

There were only two other people in the room along with Ser Barristan and Tyrion. The young advisor to the dragon queen, Missande and the dragon queen herself.

“You are late, Lord Tyrion.” The young queen´s tone was as cold as the Wall. 

“I am sorry your grace, I was waiting for a report on the dragons.” Every time the dragons were brought up in a conversation was a sure way to get the interest of the queen.

“And? Is there any news of Rhaegal and Viserion?” The excitement was apparent in her voice.

“No, it is like they disappeared of the face of the earth, but the big one, Drogon was seen again, this time a lot closer to Meereen than before.” The news of the black dragon was sure to make her a little more chipper.

It was evident in her demeanor that the silver queen loved the black one the best of all the dragons that she had hatched. She had often referred to him as Balerion the black dread reborn and the stories that followed Drogon had not made Tyrion eager to meet the queen´s monster as he was called in the city.

Maybe that is why the other two had escaped. They had felt that Daenerys didn’t love them like the black dragon, and they had been locked underneath the pyramid. Everyone who had studied dragons agreed that they were highly intelligent, so maybe they had decided that they didn’t like playing second fiddle to their brother.

“Have there been any news from Daario?” The queen didn’t even try to hide her anger anymore. For months now, every time she asked if anyone had seen her runaway dragons, she always got the same answer, no. It had long since started to take its toll on the queen of Meereen. Tyrion had seen over the last few weeks that the queen didn’t like the word, no. She seemed to take it as some sort of an insult and often took great offence when she was denied anything she decided was hers.

Tyrion shook his head; the mercenary hadn’t sent a word. The dragon queen had sent the man to look for her dragons, but Daario had not found them or heard anything about them. They had vanished into thin air.

Daenerys´s mouth became a thin line, and her eyes seemed to blaze with anger. Her cheeks became red spotted as she repressed one of her tantrums, and Tyrion could see that her fingers were clenched as she seemed to will herself not start throwing things again.

He had to stop himself from rubbing his forehead, the silver queen had thrown a vase across the room in her anger last time he had told her that there were no news of the dragons, and one of the glass pieces had cut his forehead.  He was just glad that it didn’t go into his eye and left him blind in one eye for the rest of his life.

That was not for the first time either that the queen of Meereen had started to throw things either. The occurrences had become more and more frequent when her temper had run away with her, and that in itself was not a good quality in a queen or a king.

The last time she had a tantrum, she had almost hit her lord commander of the queen´s guard with a plate of solid gold, and it had taken her almost two hours to calm down.

Ser Barristan had told him one evening that her tantrums were escalating. At first it had only been shouting and the queen had quickly calmed down and apologized the first few times, but now it was their fault for being in her way or they were not working hard enough to find her dragons. Her episodes were getting more and more extreme.

“There is something else.” Tyrion really didn’t want to be the one to tell her. “There was another attack by the sons of the Harpy last night.” After the escape of the dragons from the makeshift dragonpit, the masters and the sons of the Harpy had grown bolder and less afraid of the dragon queen. Daenerys´s advantage had been her dragons but now that she did have them, she was just like anyone else, something that Tyrion knew that he should never say to the queen. Tyrion could see the tantrum that was just beginning and as the first vase was thrown, he hurried out of the room.

If Tyrion wasn’t exiled from his home and there was another person that was laying claim to the iron throne, he would have been long gone from Meereen, but as it stood, the only other person that was trying to take the old monstrosity was Stannis Baratheon. Tyrion doubted that he would hold on to his head for long if he met the middle Baratheon brother. So, he was stuck in Meereen until another, capable monarch presented themselves.

JON

The valyrian steel crown of Aegon the conqueror was heavy on his brow. Sansa had talked him into wearing it when he was meeting with the lords. Jon had to admit, as much as he hated wearing it, he had to. The lords had crowned him their king and he had to show them that he appreciated their support. Jon also didn’t want to insult them by throwing their good will right back into their faces.

He was sitting in lord Manderly´s war room with the lords of the North along with Sansa, Ser Davos and his newly discovered cousin, Shireen Baratheon. They had finished making the plans for them to take Winterfell back from the Boltons and they would be leaving for the ancient home of the Starks in the morning, but there was something else Jon wanted from the lords.

“Lord Manderly, you told me that my cousin, King Robb ordered you to build an armada. How is that going?” A fleet of ships would come in handy for Jon´s plans.

The older man gave a large smile and clapped his hand on his belly. “We have finished building the ships, now they just need a mission, your grace.” That made Jon extremely happy to hear, he could start working on arming the nights watch soon if his plans worked.

“Now, my lords you know by now that the Others can be killed with Valyrian steel and with dragonglass. But regrettably the north doesn’t have large deposits of dragonglass, but I know of a place that does.” That made all the lords very eager. They all desperately needed and wanted more obsidian to use against the dead that were coming for all of them.

“Dragonstone does have the largest mines of dragonglass in Westeros, and it just so happens to be almost unoccupied at the moment, after Stannis moved North. We need to take the island to mine for the dragonglass and send it north to be made into weapons.” This caused the lords to nod in agreement.

“Your grace.” Jon turned his head to Ser Davos who had spoken. “If I may, I was with Stannis for a long time on Dragonstone and I know the island very well. I could get the men you need to the island and hold it in your name. Stannis took almost all of the fighting men with him to the wall so the island is undefended, so it should be relatively easy for us to take it.” Jon nodded his consent. He had been hoping that the knight would be willing to take Dragonstone, as he knew it better than anyone here.

“And holding Dragonstone is a good way for you to solidify your claim.” Sansa had spoken up for the first time since the meeting began. “It is the ancestral seat of House Targaryen and were Aegon and his sisters planned the conquest. And I think that when the lords of the crownlands and the narrow sea hear of you and that you can prove who you are, they will flock to you, they have hated the Lannisters since the rebellion, and holding Dragonstone provides us with an access to the capitol.” Jon agreed with that assessment. After the murder of princess Elia and her children, the Lannisters were despised in almost every corner of the continent, and if a trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen would come forward, Jon had little doubt that the lords of the crownlands and the narrow sea, would declare for him.

It took a few hours to hammer out the details of the plan to take the island and Jon was glad to leave the room when it was all over. Jon was followed by Ghost out of the room and Sansa walked beside him with Ser Brienne and Ice trailing behind them.

At first the decision to knight the maid of Tarth had caused a little ruckus but when it became known that she had risked her life to save and serve Sansa Stark, almost everyone had been on board with the decision, and it was also the north and the people here were more accepting of a female warrior.

Jon had also knighted Devan Seaworth for saving Shireen. The young man had looked like he had never been happier in his life. Ser Devan was now serving Shireen, as her sworn shield, and Jon doubted that the girl would find anyone more devoted to her. Ser Devan had certainly earned her trust by saving her life from her father and mother and he had defended her against the Bolton men.

Jon and Sansa made their way to the godswood and sat down by the heart tree. Jon could hear the shrieks and roars of the younger dragons as they flew over the city, playing in the air.

They sat there for a while, watching Ice trying to get Ghost to play with her. Ice had grown a lot since Sansa had gotten her, and now the younger direwolf could easily rip a man´s arm off, if she needed. She had fully recovered from almost starving to death and she was growing as fast as the direwolfs the Stark children and Jon had gotten.

Sansa broke the silence after a while. “I am worried about Rickon.” Jon looked over at Sansa, her big blue eyes were filled with worry and fear for her brother. Rickon was only six years old and should not be held as a hostage by a madman.

“We will get him back Sansa.” Jon knew that he shouldn’t promise anything but, in this moment, he couldn’t help it. Jon grabbed her hand in his and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, to try to comfort her. Sansa leaned her head on his shoulder, and they sat there for a while, just talking about Winterfell of their childhood until it had turned dark.

“We should head back; we have a long day tomorrow.”

Jon nodded, they had to start the march to Winterfell tomorrow. Jon called the young dragons to him as they entered the courtyard of the castle. The dragons landed close by and they started to walk back to their rooms with Ser Brienne and the direwolfs following them.

The next morning Jon woke up to someone giving him a gentle shake.

“Your grace you need to get up and get ready for the march to Winterfell.” Satin´s musical voice resonated throughout the room. As Jon tried to get up, he realized that he was half buried under four dragons. They were getting too big for using him as a bed, then again, he doubted it mattered much, this was probably the last time they slept inside.

He didn’t know how he did it, but somehow, he managed to get from underneath them. But alas he still woke them up, much to their unhappiness. But they suffered their rude awakening like champions.

“Your grace, here are the clothes you are to wear for the journey.” Jon nodded and tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Jon looked over the new clothing he had received from Satin, he recognized Sansa´s work immediately. She was the only person he knew that could make such fine clothing in such a short amount of time.

Sansa had made him riding clothing out of the finest northern leather that had been dyed black and on the chest was the roaring three headed dragon of house Targaryen. Jon finished putting on the clothing and turned around to face Satin as the younger man cleared his throat.

His steward was holding the crown of Aegon the dragon in his hands with a large smile on his face. Jon couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him as he put on the damned thing.

After letting the dragons outside, Jon walked to the great hall and took his seat. As he walked into the room, everyone there stood up and waited for him to take a seat. This was one of the most hated things he had to endure as the king. The damned curtsies and courtly manners, oh how he missed the simple days when he had just been Ned Stark´s bastard.

Jon sat down beside Sansa. As the hall erupted in noise again, she leaned over. “Nervous for today?” Her voice didn’t rise above a whisper. Jon nodded silently.

He was very nervous for the ride out of the city. It had become known throughout White Harbor that Jon was not only the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, but he had been declared king by the lords of the north gathered in the city.

The Targaryens had been hated for so long in the north, Jon doubted that it would have changed over the few days that he had been here. Lord Manderly had assured him that he had people spreading the truth around the city and the guard would be on high alert. But Jon wouldn’t breathe easier until he was out of the city. What if Lord Manderly was wrong and Sansa and Shireen got hurt in the crossfire? He would never forgive himself if anything happened to them.

His cousin Shireen had insisted on coming with them to Winterfell and as much as he tried to convince her to stay here in White Harbor, she had insisted on seeing the bastard of Bolton die with her own eyes. Jon knew better than to argue with a Baratheon.

All though the morning meal, he made small talk with the lords and ladies gathered around him, it made Jon feel awkward making small talk, he wasn’t used to talking this much. But as much as he hated it, it was preferred to ride out of the city and not knowing if he wouldn’t make it out alive and all to soon it became time to start their journey.

Jon and Sansa made their way to the courtyard and Jon saw Satin standing there beside Ghost and Ice, holding onto the reins of a coal black stallion that was draped in caparison in the Targaryen colors. The horse was a gift from lord Manderly to Jon. Sansa had gotten a grey mare that was as graceful as a dancer, that was covered in the caparison of the Stark colors.

Jon and Sansa would be riding side by side on their new destriers out of the city. Jon tried his best at not letting his nervousness show, and he thought that he had done reasonably well at that.

Jon and the rest of the lords that would be going with him and Sansa to take back Winterfell, said their goodbyes to lord Manderly and his granddaughters, who looked a little put out at not going with them. That was something that Jon could not understand, who would want to go to a battlefield and to war?

Ser Davos would be leaving in a few days to Dragonstone to take the seat of house Targaryen and start on the mining of dragonglass and send it north. So, he would be staying in White Harbor until then.

As they started to ride out of the castle of the Manderlys, and into the city itself, Jon was struck speechless. Jon had been expecting anything but this. The people of the city had gathered to see the army leave the city to take back Winterfell from the Boltons, they were all cheering and shouting and Jon could see that they were waving hastily made Targaryen banners in the air along with the banners of house Stark and the other northern houses that were fighting for Sansa and Rickon.

Everywhere he looked there were people shouting his name and cheering for him, and they were so loud that they almost drowned out the shrieking of the four dragons above them and again, small children tried their best to pet or touch Ghost and Ice as they rode passed the roaring crowd.

SER BRYNDEN TULLY

Brynden was very fortunate to have met the young crannogman who had helped him cross over to the north. They had avoided the knights of the vale on their slow trek north. It seemed that they weren’t in any hurry to get to Winterfell. Even though Brynden knew most of the lords of the vale, Brynden also knew that they were being led by Littlefinger, and he didn’t trust that man not to hand him to the Lannisters.

The young man Daerion, was helping him travel to find the northern host that his grandniece and her bastard half-brother had assembled to take back Winterfell.

Brynden remembered that his niece Cat had been distrustful of the boy when he had been spoken of by her and her son Robb, but Robb had always spoken well of him and the last he had heard, he had taken the black and become the lord commander of the night´s watch and the watch took no part in the realms of men.

So, what on earth was the boy doing gathering an army? Brynden supposed he would find out soon, as he and Daerion were approaching the army that was heading north. Night was falling and the army was camped a half days ride from Winterfell, and they would most likely be riding early in the morning to reach the ancient home of the Starks.

But what had really startled Brynden was that among the banners of the northern lords was the black and red banner of house Targaryen. That banner hadn’t been seen in Westeros in nearly twenty years and now it was flying beside the banner of house Stark? What madness was this? Had the north forgotten Rickard and Brandon Stark and what the mad king did to them?

Two riders clad in Manderly colors, approached them before they could get to close to the camp. Brynden had been ordered to identify himself and his traveling companion, and then they had to give up all their weapons before they could approach the encampment.

At the edge of the encampment they were greeted by another crannogman. But this one Brynden knew, they had fought together in the rebellion and now lord Howland Reed was standing proudly under the Targaryen banner once again.

“Howland, what is going on?” Brynden couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice. “What mummery is this? Why are the northern lords flying the Targaryen banner?”

“Because the king is of house Targaryen.” As always, the smaller man’s voice was soft and soothing, but not enough to calm Brynden down. Brynden didn’t have time to respond because the lord of Greywater watch turned on his heel and gestured for Brynden to follow.

They passed many tents before they got to the larger tents in the middle of the encampment. But two tents were the largest of them all. One of them was grey and white of the Starks and the other was black and red of house Targaryen.

Howland approached the black tent and called out. “Your grace, Ser Brynden Tully is here.” Before anything could be said a small young man opened the tent and let them in. Howland walked into the tent with Brynden following close behind him.

It was bright inside the tent because of all the candles that were lit, and inside the tent there were three people present. Two of them were sitting down and one was standing. He knew the person that was standing, it was lady Brienne of Tarth, the woman who had served Cat, as her sworn shield before Cat had ordered her to free Jaime Lannister and take him to the capitol. 

The other two people he had never met before, but he knew one of them instantly. It was Sansa Stark, his grandniece.  She looked just like her mother but more beautiful and taller than Cat had been. Sansa stood up with a smile and walked over to him.

“We are so glad to meet you uncle, please sit down, you must be terribly tired after your journey.” She guided him to a seat at the table. If Brynden hadn’t been used to Greywind, his grandnephew´s direwolf, he would have jumped out of his skin as a small, grey direwolf came up to him a sniff.

But nothing could prepare him for the monster that came out of the shadows of the inner tent. The great white beast was much larger than Greywind had been and the grey wolf hadn’t had those eerie red knowing eyes. But what came after him was even more shocking. Four dragons followed the white direwolf. All of them stared at Brynden with molten eyes like they were studying him. The dragons were the size of large hunting dogs, but Brynden knew that they were much more dangerous.

They seemed to gravitate towards the young man that was still sitting by the table. Brynden had heard enough tales of the bastard of Winterfell to know him when he saw him. Even sitting down Brynden could tell that Jon Snow was a tall man, he had the dark hair of the Starks and valyrian steel grey eyes that cut just as sharply as the swords. Brynden had always heard that Ned Stark´s bastard looked just like him, but Brynden thought that Jon Snow was too handsome to be the copy of Eddard Stark.

It was then Brynden took notice of his clothes, they were all done in black and red of house Targaryen, and the red three headed dragon was roaring in anger on his chest. If it weren’t for the four dragons and the large monstrous direwolf, Brynden would have jumped up from his chair and demanded an explanation. But one should not demand anything for someone who seemed to have the love of four dragons and a direwolf.

“Satin.” His grandniece spoke up. “Could you get some refreshment for my uncle please.” The young man who had let him in, jumped to do his grandnieces bidding. Howland came and sat down next to Brynden, much to his relief. He had to admit that he felt a little better seeing a familiar face, among this craziness.

“What news from the south, uncle?” Sansa´s voice washed over him as he tore his eyes away from the dragons.

“Jaime Lannister has taken Riverrun and given it to the Freys. They hold my nephew Edmure hostage and the Riverlords have all bent the knee.” He looked at his niece, Sansa looked sad and looked over to her bastard brother.

“Thank you for telling us uncle.” At this moment the boy, Satin his niece had called him, came back with a tray filled with food and a flagon of wine. But Brynden couldn’t keep silent anymore.

“What is going on? What is with all the Targaryen banners? And where did the dragons come from? And the last I have heard was that you had disappeared from the capitol after murdering that shit Joffrey and then I hear you are here in the north gathering an army.” Sansa and Jon Snow looked at each other, but then Jon Snow nodded at Brynden´s niece.

The tale Sansa told her granduncle was not a pretty one and by the end of it he was looking back and forth between Sansa and the young man who had been known as Jon Snow but who was actually the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark and the rightful king of the seven kingdoms. But what was even more unbelievable was that the Others were marching on the wall and Sansa and Jon Sno…Targaryen had proof.

He would have jumped up and called them all crazy if not for the stare of the dragons pinning him down in his seat.

“We need to liberate the Riverlands from the Lannisters and the Freys.” It was the first time Brynden had heard Jon Sno…Targaryen speak. His voice was deep, and his northern accent was more apparent than it had been in Brynden´s grandnephew, Robb.

Sansa nodded. “I agree, we need all the men we can get to help fight the dead and man the wall when the time comes.” She stopped for a moment before continuing. “It would also look really good if you liberate the Riverlands to the other kingdoms that are suffering under Lannister rule and want to see them gone.”

“I agree, but we need to wait until we can liberate Winterfell and save Rickon from the Boltons.” Ned Stark´s more handsome look alike said and rubbed his beard covered chin.

“There is also another thing.” Sansa and the young man waited for Brynden to continue. “When we were moving north, I saw the knights of the vale going up the king´s road, but as far as I could see they weren’t moving very fast. In fact, they were moving very slowly.”

Sansa and the newly crowned king looked at each other. “He is waiting for you to write to him and beg for his help, so that you would be in his debt.” Sansa nodded her agreement with the young king.

“We don’t need him; we can do this ourselves.” His grandnieces voice was confident and strong. “I will never be in Littlefinger´s debt if I can help it.”

“The knights of the vale could be useful in taking back the Riverlands.” Brynden said looking between Sansa and young man.

“Not if they come with Littlefinger.” Brynden had almost forgotten that Howland was in the room. He had been quiet for most of the time since sitting down.

“Then we separate Littlefinger from the knights of the vale.” Sansa drummed her fingers on the table. “He has the vale through Robert Arryn, but if he doesn’t have him anymore, there goes some of his military strength. But he does have a lot of vale houses with him because he was buying up their debts from the iron bank.” 

“And how will we take Lord Arryn away from Littlefinger?” Brynden hadn’t seen the boy since he had left the vale with Cat to join the war against the Lannisters, but he was eager to know how Sansa intended to manage to get the little lord away from the whoremonger.

But he didn’t get a response, only a smile. 

Chapter Text

JON

He couldn’t help the hate that had gathered in his belly as he stared at the bastard of Bolton. The bastard son of Roose Bolton was exactly as Sansa had described him.

Cruel and hateful seemed to be very appropriate words to describe him. But Jon was careful not to let it show on his face. Jon kept his face as stony as he remembered his uncle doing when he had been executing deserters from the nights watch.

Jon would go as far as to say that Ramsay Snow was mad, as Ramsay started at him with empty, colorless eyes. Not for the first time, Jon was glad that all the lords had insisted on coming with them to the parley.  They needed to see the monster of Bolton, and how he behaved before he died.

Ser Brynden “Blackfish” Tully had also insisted on coming with them, he had wanted to see the monster of Bolton before it was put down. After the horror stories Sansa had told him about her husband, Jon was surprised that they didn’t need to restrain him, but the Blackfish had impeccable amount of control it seemed.

Smalljon Umber and Arnolf Karstark were both beside the madman. They were both torn between anger and fear. By now Jon was sure that most of the north had heard of Jon and his heritage, the lord of New Castle had been very efficient in spreading the word and it didn’t surprise him that the news had traveled so fast, one rider traveled faster than an army.

Their eyes seemed to flicker very often to the valyrian steel crown that Jon was wearing, and to his Targaryen colored armor, that had been made in the style of the armor of house Stark.

“So, it is true. You have dragons.” The madman´s voice reminded Jon of worms for some reason.

Said dragons were flying high over the meeting so that they wouldn’t get hit by any arrows that may come their way. The four dragons that had hatched on Jon funeral pyre were flying above them, but Jon didn’t answer him and just continued to stare at the maniac.

“And you have crowned yourself king. It seems like some bastards like to rise above their station.” The arrogance was dripping from his voice. Sansa had told Jon that Ramsay Snow didn’t consider himself a bastard, and most likely never had, he was too proud to consider himself a baseborn.

“I only see one bastard here and that is you Ramsay Snow.” The Wull growled out. Jon didn’t think it would have been possible, but the air grew tenser. Jon also took note that neither Lord Umber nor Lord Karstark jumped in to defend Ramsay Snow. The lords Umber and Karstark seemed to keep their eyes on the sky incase the dragons decided to swoop down and set them on fire, only to glance at Jon when they thought that they had a moment to take their eyes of the dragons.

“How do we know that you have Rickon?” Sansa´s voice was strong and as regal as a queen´s. Ramsay´s colorless eyes turned to her and Jon felt the need to punch him in the face. The bastard nodded at Smalljon with a smug smile. Sansa seemed to have distracted him from the insult The Wull had payed to him for a moment.

The Smalljon reached behind him and grabbed something and threw it at the feet of their horses. It turned out to be the severed head of Shaggydog. The black fur and the green eyes were unmistakable. Ghost, who had been standing beside Jon´s horse was now growling silently at the Umber lord. Ice was not so silent in her anger at the men before her. Both Arnolf and Smalljon had fought beside the young wolf and they remembered well how savage the direwolfs could be in their anger.

The growling direwolfs made the horses of lords Umber, Karstark and the Bolton bastard very nervous, the horses started to become skittish and rolled their eyes in fright, but the men managed to rein them in.

Ramsay started to spew some nonsense about how he was the rightful lord of Winterfell and warden of the north. But Jon was only half listening, he knew that he couldn’t afford to be sucked into Ramsay´s world of madness and Jon knew that that was not a game that he could win.

“Then perhaps we should settle this the old way, you against me.” Jon knew that Ramsay would never agree to fight him one on one. And by offering to fight Ramsay, Jon would be proving to the lords of the North that not only did Jon respect the old traditions and strive to uphold them, but Ramsay did no such thing when he would refuse the duel. And refuse he did.

Ramsay started to wiggle his finger at Jon, and he could see Ramsay almost break his teeth as he clenched his jaw so tightly. “From the way I hear it, you are the best swordsman in the north, and maybe even in the world, and maybe I could beat you or maybe I won’t.  But I know my army can beat yours.” 

“And will your men fight for you, if you won´t fight for them?” Ramsay turned white with anger as he stared at Jon.

“Are you really the son of Rhaegar Targaryen?” Smalljon´s deep voice broke through the deafening silence. The enormous man was staring at Jon, Smalljon didn’t seem to know what to think. The Umbers had been loyal bannermen to the Starks for centuries, so Jon had to admit that he found it strange that Smalljon would be here, declaring for Ramsay Snow. Especially after the Smalljon had fought for so long alongside Robb. 

“He is the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, the rightful king of the seven kingdoms.” The Flint declared for all to hear.

“Tommen Baratheon is the true king of Westeros.” Ramsay didn’t want to be forgotten as he declared for the Lannister bastard.

“Tommen Waters is not a trueborn and even if he was, a cousin cannot inherit before a son.” Sansa stared down the false lord of Winterfell as he bared his teeth. Ramsay opened his mouth to say something, but Sansa beat him to it.

“Sleep well Ramsay Snow.” As she started to turn her horse around, Ramsay Snow exploded with anger.

“I am Ramsay Bolton; I have been declared legitimate son of the warden of the north by the king.”

“As we just discussed, Tommen Waters is a bastard himself and therefore he cannot declare anyone legitimate. That power resides with King Jon of house Targaryen.” Then she continued on her way back to the camp.

Jon glanced at Ramsay Snow for a moment, the bastard of Bolton opened his mouth to continue his tirade, but Jon decided to follow his cousin with the lords of the north behind him. He didn’t want to be dragged into Ramsay Snow´s world of craziness, and he also didn’t want the lords of the north seeing him giving the manic any validation by listening to him. Being discarded would also serve to make the bastard of Bolton angry, which would make him do something stupid.

SANSA

All through the night Sansa had tossed and turned. She was so worried for Rickon and Jon that she had barely slept, and when she had slept, she dreamt that she was in her direwolfs mind.

Ice had been wide awake and prowling her tent and keeping her safe. Even thought she had had one or two dreams about being in Lady´s body, this worried her a little. When she had started getting those dreams, Jon had assured her that this was how the connection with Ice was getting more powerful.

Jon wanted her to start entering her wolf´s mind when they took back Winterfell from the Boltons, he wanted her to strengthen her bond with her direwolf as much as possible. Sansa had to agree with him on that, she wanted to have a similar bond with Ice as Jon had with Ghost.

Sansa stood up from her makeshift bed and decided that she wouldn’t get anymore sleep than she had already gotten. 

Today was the day they would take back Winterfell and save Rickon. She had to believe that they could do it. Sansa just hoped that Ramsay hadn’t hurt him. She didn’t know what she would do if anything happened to her little brother.

Sansa finished putting on her grey and white dress, she had taken to wear her Stark colors with much more pride than she had done as a child.  She also braided her hair in the northern fashion, it was in a single braid that she laid over her shoulder.

Sansa walked over to a small chest that held some of the things that she had been working on, on the way to Winterfell. She pulled out a white ribbon. It had been embroidered with the grey direwolf of house Stark and it was surrounded by the blue winter roses that grew in Winterfell. She looked it over and smiled as she made her decision.

Sansa turned around as she heard Ser Brienne announce her presence. The taller woman entered, and Sansa couldn’t help but to think that she had also been awake for much of the night. “How did you sleep?” Brienne was always so concerned with Sansa´s wellbeing and Sansa loved her for it.

“Very little I am afraid.” Sansa answered with a small smile. Her friend gave her a look that clearly said that they needed to talk about this later.

Sansa put the ribbon in her pocket and left the tent with Ser Brienne on her heels. Sansa looked to the east and she could see that the sun was rising rapidly.

Sansa had no appetite so she skipped breakfast and hurried to the command tent, where the lords would gather before the battle.

When she entered the tent, everyone was already gathered there. It seemed like she wasn’t the only one that had trouble sleeping. Jon had already made it to the tent was giving the last-minute orders for the battle.

Sansa was sure that Ramsay would want to meet them in open battle after their talk yesterday. She had tried her hardest to make him angry, so that he would meet them in open battle instead of sitting inside of the castle and making them have to plan a siege. Sansa didn’t want Jon to have to mount his dragon and burn the castle down with Rickon still in it.

She looked over to Jon as he stood there talking to his lords, they seemed a little in awe of him. It was strange for her to seeing the battle-hardened men look at the young king like he was Aegon the conqueror come again or an ancient king of Winter, ready to break the Red Kings once and for all.  She had to admit, that he looked very handsome in his northern style leather armor, that had been dyed black. It reminded Sansa of the leather armor her father had worn. Around Jon´s collar was a steel guard, it had a dragon and a wolf interlaced, both were snarling in anger, ready to rip their enemies apart.

He had both of his valyrian steel swords around his waist, and as he listened to the lords speak, he was fastening his left armguard.

Jon seemed to have a presence that commanded their attention and it helped that Jon looked so much like her late father, and held his ideas of justice so close, but Sansa was very grateful that he was smarter than her father and brother.

Sansa loved her father and her brother, but they had made some very big mistakes that had cost them their lives, among so many others. That had ultimately resulted in them losing the north to the Boltons.

Yesterday was one of the hardest days she had to live through, meeting the monster had not been something she had looked forward to, but she had known that it was something she had to do. Again, her mind wondered to Rickon and she tried to hold in a shiver. She would make the monster pay for every hurt he inflicted on her little brother.

After a little while the lords left the tent, but they all greeted her and tried to assure her that they would do everything they could to save her brother from the bastard of Bolton. Jon and Sansa were the only ones in the tent, aside from Ghost, Ice and the dragons.

They stood there in silence for a moment before Sansa closed the distance and hugged Jon with all her strength. When she let him go, she reached into one of the pockets of her dress and pulled out the white ribbon with the grey wolf on house Stark and the winter roses embroidered on it.

Sansa took Jon´s hand and tied the ribbon to his wrist. As she finished tying it to his wrist, she looked up at his face. His expression was of bewilderment, and Sansa could help the giggle that escaped her. Jon always looked adorable when he had that look on his face.

“It´s for luck.” She stated, she really hoped that he liked it. Then he gave her one of his beautiful smiles that were all too rare.

“I love it, thank you.” Jon kissed her forehead. Sansa grabbed the right armguard that was still on the table and fastened it over the ribbon.

JON

Jon escorted Sansa outside the tent, and to her horse with Ghost, Ice and the dragons following them. He could see the lords and ladies that wouldn’t take part in the battle, like young lord Forrester and Lyanna Mormont, were already getting ready to go to the hill, where they would stay, far away from the battle.

Sansa´s uncle walked over to them to say goodbye to his grandniece before the battle. Ser Brynden would be taking part in the cavalry charge.

Jon decided to give them a little privacy. He walked over to Shireen and Ser Devan; he could see that they were both nervous. “Are you two alright?”

Ser Devan nodded and tried to stay brave, but Shireen just looked at Jon with sadness in her eyes. “Do you have to go?” Jon gave her a small smile.

“Aye, I am afraid so, but you will be alright. Ghost and the dragons will be with you and Sansa on the hill.” This caused the young girl to frown.

“But shouldn’t you take them with you? Didn’t your broth…cousin always go to battle with his direwolf? And the dragons could help keep you save.”

“Aye, Robb did always take Greywind with him, but I don’t want to risk Ghost, and I want him to protect you and Sansa. As for the dragons, well, they are too small yet to be affective in a large-scale battle.” Shireen looked like she wanted to say more, but she bit her lip to hold it in. “Hey, everything is going to be alright.” He said to her.

The young girl looked at him with tears in her eyes and then she jumped into his arms and buried her face in his neck. “I don’t want you to go, you are the only family I have left.” She sobbed into his neck, and Jon could feel his heart break for her. She had suffered so much for one so young. Jon rubbed her back like he had done with Arya when she had come to him crying at something the other girls had said to her.

“Your grace, it is time.” Satin´s musical voice came from behind him, and Jon let Shireen go. She had stopped crying and was trying to put on a brave face. Ser Devan lead Jon´s old bay gelding forward and Jon lifted his cousin in the saddle. Shireen had been using his old horse since he had gotten the new destrier from Lord Manderly.

Jon gave a nod to Ser Devan and then he turned to the dragons and Ghost. When he ordered them to stay with his cousins, they seemed a little put out but obeyed none the less.

Sansa and Ser Brienne passed him, and his cousin tried to give him an encouraging smile, but he could see the worry in her eyes. Jon mounted his horse and went with Ser Brynden and the others that would be joining the cavalry.

They reached the front lines, and Jon looked out to Winterfell, the battlefield had been adorned with large wooden X´s. They had to wait for a little while until the Bolton army made its way out of Winterfell. The army of the flayed man rushed out of the stronghold of house Stark like a flood. It seemed like forever until the last man had left the castle.

Then one row of riders made way for a man on horseback.

Jon stared on to the battlefield. He could see that it was Ramsay on the horse, and he was leading someone who he had tied to a rope. It took Jon a moment to recognize him from this distance, but the realization came crashing down on him. It was Rickon that the monster was leading.

Jon could feel the bile rise in his throat at seeing the monster leading his six-year old cousin by a rope. He had never felt this kind of anger before, he had to force himself not to call for Rhaegal and Viserion, Jon couldn’t risk Rickon.

Jon remembered what Sansa had told him about Ramsay Snow, he like to hunt women and play horrifying games with them. It wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibilities that Ramsay would be playing game by using Rickon.

Jon could see the bastard of Bolton dismount and cut the boy´s ropes, and as Ramsay pointed to the field Jon realized what he intended to do. He called for his horse and felt for Rhaegal in his mind.

But it turned out that he hadn’t needed to, the dragon had already realized what it was that Jon wanted. “TORMUND,” The big, redheaded wildling looked at Jon, he could see the shock in the larger man’s eyes. “WHEN YOU SEE RHEAGAL AND VISERION, CHARGE.” Jon didn’t wait for a response, he jumped on his horse and charged alone into the field.

Jon had always been a good rider, but never in his life had he ridden a horse so fast. The desperation to reach Rickon, as the little boy was running towards him, was so great that he could barely breathe. The horse didn’t seem to need to be pushed, the great black stallion seemed to know what Jon wanted and reacted to his thoughts alone.

Jon had almost reached Rickon when it happened. The roar was deafening, and the golden flames blocked most of the Bolton cavalry from Jon´s sight. Even at this distance, Jon could feel the heat of the golden flames, but to him it wasn’t uncomfortable but soothing.

As Jon reached Rickon, he vaulted of the horse and sent the horse away as an enormous, emerald scaly body blocked Jon and Rickon from harm from the Boltons. Jon grabbed Rickon´s tiny body and held him as close as he could. As he made the climb on Rhaegal´s back, he could feel Rickon shacking with fear.

Rhaegal roared so loudly that the earth shook. When Jon had secured his cousin and made sure that he wouldn’t fall off in midflight, Rhaegal took off into the morning sky.

SANSA

She had never felt more fear than in that moment when she realized what Ramsay intended to do. That monster intended to use her brother for target practice to goad Jon.

Seeing Jon ride out into the field had made her think that he had lost his mind, but when she heard Rhaegal´s roar of anger, she could finally breath again. She had never been so happy at seeing dragons in her life. Sansa knew that Jon had planned for the larger dragons to come from the side when Jon and the Stark men would have started their charge.

Jon had planned for the Boltons to be occupied with watching the Stark army, only to be surprised by the side attacked by Rhaegal and Viserion. But watching Jon charge out alone had been almost too much for her to bear.

She could hear the gasps of the lords and ladies around her as they saw the largest of Jon´s dragons for the first time.

“By the gods.” Sansa heard Lady Lyanna shout. Beside her, Sansa could see the surprise on Shireen´s face. Her mouth was open and her eyes wide with wonder.

The smaller dragons gave out shrieks of happiness at seeing the larger dragons as the four small dragons soared over the head of the people on the hill. The rising morning sun was making their scales even more beautiful than usual and it gave them an unearthly glow, as they soared over the people on the hill.

She watched as Jon´s black destrier galloped back to safety and the golden flames enveloped a large part of the Bolton cavalry. Rhaegal put his large emerald body between the Bolton army and her brother and Jon, while the king of the seven kingdoms grabbed his cousin and started to climb on the enormous, emerald colored dragon´s back. She couldn’t help but wonder at the sheer amount of growing the emerald dragon had gone through since she had seen him.

When she had seen him for the first time, he had been barely bigger than one hundred feet, which in itself was impressive, but since then, he had grown more than fifty feet, which in itself was an unbelievable amount of growing in such a short amount of time.

As the emerald dragon gave another, even louder roar as he leapt into the air and soared over the battlefield, Tormund started to charge with his freefolk, and the northerners not to be out done by the wildling, followed.

The Bolton army was in chaos, men dropped their weapons and ran screaming from the battlefield to avoid the flames raining down on them. The freefolk and the northerners were now just taking prisoner by the hundreds. So many men were surrendering after the first onslaught by Viserion.

She could see men and horses screaming from fright as the dragons flew over the ancestral seat of house Stark and the smell of burnt flesh and smoke would linger in the air for some time after the battle.

In the distance she could see the banner of house Karstark, it seemed like the lord of Karhold had managed to gather some men to try to attack. Sansa could see Arnolf Karstark at the forefront of the charge, tall and dark haired and screaming bloody murder in anger.

But it didn’t last very long as Jon and Rhaegal came swooping down on them. Rhaegal´s flame was bright emerald with veins of bronze, and it reminded Sansa of the wildfire; Tyrion had used to burn Stannis´s fleet at the battle of Blackwater.

Sansa had never seen or heard of a battle that had been over so quickly. While she and the other lords and ladies couldn’t go to the battlefield just yet, most of the fighting was over and done with. 

Sansa could see Jon and his dragons herding the men that were trying to leave the battlefield, back to his men, where they were taken into custody of the northern lords until they decided on what to do with them.

From the hill Sansa spied Tormund and his men and women surrounding Smalljon Umber, he seemed to prepare to make a last stand. The Smalljon gave a loud scream, but it was drowned out by Viserion flying overhead, roaring as he went. The large man threw himself to the ground and dropped his battleaxe, in his fright. No one wanted to be burned alive.

But she was most worried about Ramsay escaping. That monster could not leave this battlefield a freeman, he had to be captured or killed. Though Sansa would prefer that he would be captured alive, the north needed to see justice done.

They waited for a while for her uncle to come riding up the hill. Ser Brynden Tully looked pale, like he was trying to calm down from receiving the shock of a lifetime, which he most likely just had.

“We have caught most of the men, and Smalljon Umber and Ramsay Snow have both been captured.” As he gave them the news that Ramsay Snow was in their custody the lords and ladies on the hill gave a loud cheer.

Her granduncle led them down the hill, with the dragons flying on ahead to greet the bigger dragons.

“The highborn prisoners have been placed in the dungeons of Winterfell until they can be put on a trial and executed.” Her uncle stated. That made Sansa breathe a sigh of relief, with the highborn in the dungeons, the soldiers wouldn´t dare to pick up arms again. Especially now that they had seen the bigger dragons and felt their wrath.

“Sansa…Where did his grace get the bigger dragons?” She could feel the eyes on her as her granduncle waited for her answer.

“Essos.” Sansa answered and she raised her eyebrow playfully. She felt giddy and extremely happy, now that the battle was over and Jon and his dragons had saved her brother Rickon, and she couldn’t help the large smile that broke out on her face.

“Essos? When has his grace been to Essos?” Ser Brynden looked at her like she had lost her mind. But she just continued smiling.

“Never, as far as I know. I don’t think that he has ever been out of the northern half of this continent.”

“But Lady Sansa, how could he have two large dragons from Essos if he has never been to Essos?” Lady Shireen was sticking to her like a bad reputation. Sansa had really grown to like the younger girl; she was smart and kind. Sansa was also hoping to foster her at Winterfell until everything quieted down or until Shireen could take charge of Storm´s End and the Stormlands.

“Viserion.” Sansa gestured to the large cream and golden dragon that was flying over the battlefield. “and Rhaegal.” She gestured this time to the dragon that was carrying the two people she loved the most in this world. “Where both hatched in Essos, by Daenerys Targaryen, but they came here to find Jon, rather than to be with her.”

This caused the people around her to start murmuring amongst themselves. This could be very good for them to know, that the dragons that Daenerys Targaryen had hatched had chosen Jon, over the one that had brought them into the world, it could go a long way to endear Jon to all the lords of Westeros.

“But why?” She could see the wheels in Shireen´s head turning.

“Well, she apparently locked them under one of the pyramids in Meereen, for a crime that their brother committed.”

Sansa was rescued from answering more questions when she heard a loud shriek from one of the large dragons, as he flew over. It was Rhaegal, the emerald dragon flew over in a circle and landed some distance away, so to not scare the horses. Rhaegal landed gracefully for such a large creature, Sansa thought to herself as Jon climbed down with Rickon save in his arms.

Sansa vaulted of her lovely grey mare, and she could see the other nobles do the same as they stared in wonder at the king of the seven kingdoms, dismount his dragon with the lord of Winterfell in his arms. She could see that Rickon was clinging to Jon´s neck for dear life, and she could see the lord of the seven kingdoms rub the youngest Stark child´s back in attempt to comfort him. It seemed to work, as Rickon lifted his head and looked at Rhaegal.

Jon walked closer to Rhaegal´s head and reached out to scratch his nose and Sansa could hear her uncle´s breath hitch. He was most likely worried about Rickon, but Sansa knew that he was perfectly safe in Jon´s arms.

The emerald dragon gave a rumbling noise that seemed to come from deep within his chest in happiness. Sansa observed as Rickon hesitantly stretched out his hand and gave the large dragon a nose-rub as well. Rhaegal made the same noise as before, then after a few moments, Jon turned and started to walk over to Sansa and the other nobles. Rhaegal vaulted back into the air with grace that looked a little out of place on such a large creature.

It was then she noticed that a lot of people had joined their now large gathering. As Jon walked closer to them, all the lords and ladies of the north and the northerners dropped to their knee.

Jon was quick to gesture everyone to their feet again and Sansa rushed over to Jon and Rickon. Rickon had buried his face back into Jon´s neck and was clinging to him for dear life. “Rickon.” Sansa made sure that her voice was as soft as possible. Sansa noticed that Rickon was sweating, not from sickness, but from being too warm.

The little boy looked at her with his tear-filled Tully blue eyes. “Mother?” Sansa could feel her heart break as her little brother´s small voice reached her. Rickon thought that she was their mother?

“No sweetling, it´s me, Sansa. Your sister.” Rickon looked at her with a frown. It was like he was struggling to remember her, which he most likely was. She had left Winterfell when he had been three years old, and most likely had no clear memories of her.

“Your grace.” They all look at The Wull and the Flint come riding towards them. Like the others who had taken part in the battle, they were covered in soot and ash from the fires of the dragons, but like most of their men, they hadn’t sustained any injury. They seemed to be bursting with pride as they came to them riding their horses that were covered with the heraldry of their houses.

“Our men are sweeping the castle and looking for any Bolton men that might be hiding in the castle.” Jon nodded and looked at Rickon.

“Rickon, I need you to do something for me.” The small boy looked at Jon with big blue eyes that were filled with wonder. Sansa could see the beginnings of hero-worship in her brother´s eyes. Not that she could blame him, Jon had saved Rickon´s life and then flown him away to safety on the back of a dragon. Sansa had no doubt that by the end of the day, there would be songs sung about this moment.

“I need you to go with Sansa to the camp until I can send for you.” Rickon started to shake his head in protest.

“I need you to protect her, alright. I need to go and help the men to clear out Winterfell, and then I will send for you and Sansa when I know it is safe, and I will even send Ghost with you.”

While Sansa didn’t appreciate having to be protected, she could understand Jon´s reasoning for saying that. He needed to go with the men to help and it would be hard for him to work with a six-year old boy stuck to him.

Rickon looked at Ghost and then at Jon, and he didn’t seem very happy with this. Then Jon turned so that he and Rickon were facing the hill. “See that hill?” Rickon nodded with tears in his eyes. “The camp in just beyond that hill and when I am done, I will send for you and Sansa.”

“Promise?” Her little brothers voice was so small that she almost didn’t hear it.

“I promise.” Jon gave Rickon a smile and handed him to Sansa. Then he followed his men and the lords to the castle to help them to make sure that there were no Bolton men hiding somewhere in the depths of the castle.

VARYS

He was looking at the young man as he strutted around Storm´s End, like he had won a great victory. Sure, taking Storm´s End was hard, but only if it was garrisoned. There had been very few guards in the keep of the Stormlords of Storm´s End, so in the end all they really had to do was break down the gate and subdue a few servants.

Varys didn’t want to admit it, but he was starting to have doubts about this whole endeavor. The last time he had met Aegon was when the boy was an infant, after that he had only heard about him from his dear friend Illyrio.

Illyrio had always told him about a young man that was humble, just, intelligent and resembled his father greatly. That were qualities that Varys was looking for in the future king of Westeros. After his blunder with the mad king, Varys had been looking for ways to make up for the sins of his past.

He had started by sneaking the crown prince out of the capitol and delivering him to his contact that whisked him away to Pentos, so that he could grow up hidden away in safety and learn what he needed to know so that he could conquer and rule the seven kingdoms.

But as Varys looked at the boy now, he couldn’t see anything of his father or mother in him. Aegon had the coloring of old Valyria, that was true enough, but he seemed to lack the spark that was in the Targaryens. Great or mad, all the Targaryens had that spark, that fire in them that could draw people to them.

Aegon didn’t have any family resemblance to Rhaegar or any other Targaryen for that matter, sure the boy had the violet eyes and the pale silver hair, but other than that he was nothing like Rhaegar. Aegon didn’t resemble his mother either, there was nothing Dornish about the boy, nothing at all.

Aegon didn’t have the bookish nature of Rhaegar nor did he have his skill with a sword, he seemed to have a passible skill with a harp but so did many others, and his skills had nothing on Rhaegar´s. Aegon didn’t have Elia´s natural charisma nor her shrewdness or wisdom.

In other words, the boy was nothing like the prince of Dragonstone nor the princess of Dorne. But Jon Connington was not seeing what Varys was seeing. The former hand of Aerys Targaryen seemed convinced that this was Aegon Targaryen, the son of Rhaegar Targaryen.

Varys knew that Jon thought of the boy as his own son. It was common knowledge that Jon Connington had been in love with the silver prince, well common enough for all the rumors to spread. And the fact that Jon had been in love with Rhaegar was enough to make sure that Jon would do anything to protect Rhaegar´s son. That was the reason that Illyrio had brought Jon Connington in on the scheme to crown Aegon.

As Varys continued his ponderings, he felt a tug on his robes and looked down, one of his birds was trying to get his attention. Varys payed the boy and gave him a little smile.

As he opened the letter, the smile melted of his face and he could feel his heart skip a beat.

Dragonstone had fallen. 

Chapter Text

SER DAVOS

He stood on the balcony overlooking the sea. He was still in awe of the ship he was looking at, lord Manderly was certainly a genius if there ever was one.

The ship, the Greywind, was one of the lord of New castle´s own design, and it had been built for King Robb Stark when he had commissioned his fleet.

The ship was the best and the fastest Davos had ever been on. It definitely helped that they had extremely favorable winds, that made the men think that their journey was blessed by the gods.

Now, Davos wasn’t a godly man, but if this helped the morale of the men, then who was he to argue.

The ship could hold enough men for Davos to take Dragonstone and hold the island until the rest of the fleet caught up and reached the island of the Targaryens. He had also gotten a few men from the King´s own sworn soldiers.

The men that had come along with Davos were all former inhabitants of Dragonstone, so they knew the island better than anyone beside himself, he had made a note to study the island when he had been here with Stannis.

Davos turned from the window overlooking the Narrow sea and looked back to the painted table. He didn’t think that he would ever have been back here when he had left for East watch, no, he had thought that he and Stannis would have been taking the King´s road to the capitol.

Oh, how the times had changed. Now Davos was serving a different king, a better king, with a better claim than Stannis ever had.

Davos had thought that Stannis had what it took to become a good king, but how wrong he was. The man Davos had admired the most had tried to burn his only child as a sacrifice, only for Davos´s own son to stop him.

Devan. Davos was so proud of his oldest living son; he had risked his king´s anger to save an innocent girl from a horrible death.

As Davos had stood with the lords of the North as they crowned the young Jon of house Targaryen as king, he wouldn’t have thought that one of his first acts as king was to knight Davos´s own son for his bravery and the now Ser Brienne for saving the lady Sansa for the Bolton hunters.

They both deserved the honor, and most of the lords of the north agreed with him. Both Devan and Ser Brienne had served their people admirably and seemed to be better suited to knighthood than most men that had been knighted.

Davos was sad to leave Shireen and Devan in the north while he went back to Dragonstone, but he knew that King Jon would take care of them. Davos could already see that Jon and Shireen were starting to take a shine to one another, and he was confident that soon they would be as close as siblings. Shireen had always wanted an older brother and to Davos, it seemed that Jon Targaryen was more than willing to fill that role in her life.

Davos sat down by the painted table and wrote a letter to the king. King Jon had to know that they had Dragonstone and would start mining for dragonglass as soon as possible.

Davos was charged with mining and sending the obsidian, unprocessed to White Harbor, where it would be made into weapons. It was better to waste as little time and effort into making the weapons here, in case someone tried to take the island or the ships that were carrying the weapons, were sunk into the ocean by one of the autumn storms.

As soon as the rest of the men from White Harbor would arrive, they could start sending the dragonglass to White Harbor.

Davos had been talking to the inhabitants of the island and recruiting them to start working in the mines. They would be starting in the next couple of days much to his relief, they needed to start as soon as possible.

Davos was also hoping for a letter from Winterfell would arrive soon and tell them that the King and Lady Sansa had taken the ancient home of the Starks back, and that they had saved Rickon Stark.  That poor boy didn’t deserve being held hostage by the Bolton bastard, from the stories that Davos had head of the natural son of Roose Bolton, Ramsay Snow was an animal.

Davos had heard some of the crimes that Ramsay Snow had committed, apparently, he enjoyed skinning people and hunting down women like they were game. Only a truly evil person could do something like this to another human being.

Davos shook his head, there was no reason for him to think about that monster any more than he had to. Nothing good would come of it. No, it was better to focus on the work at hand. He had to write letters to the lords of the Narrow sea and the Crownlands, they had to be informed that there was a son of Rhaegar Targaryen, living and breathing, who had proof of who he was.

Davos knew the lords of the Crownlands and the Narrow sea well; he had worked with them for years when Stannis had been the lord of Dragonstone. Davos knew that if they were presented with a legitimate Targaryen heir that could prove who he was, they would flock to him.

Especially when they found out that he had six dragons to his name.

JON

Jon was sitting in front of the fire with Rickon in his lap. The boy had refused to leave him after he had returned to Winterfell with Sansa and Shireen. Rickon had clung to Jon like a lifeline after he had returned to Winterfell.

Rickon was almost asleep, and he seemed to need it, the boy had a long and hard day behind him, and he had been in Ramsay´s clutches for more than two and a half months. Rickon had told Jon that the Smalljon had refused to let Rickon out of his custody, and therefore Ramsay didn’t get to torture the small child.

That would buy the Smalljon some mercy, Jon and Sansa had discussed letting him take the black. The Smalljon would be more useful fighting the dead, instead of being dead.

Jon smiled a little as he looked down on the lord of Winterfell clutching his shirt in his little fist and tiredly burying his face in his chest, like Jon was a giant pillow. It felt very familiar to Jon, he had held Arya countless times like this when they had been children.

His little sister had always come to him when she had been afraid or angry, of all the Stark children they had always been the closest to one another. And now she was gone.

Jon had to fight the tears that threatened to fall at the very thought that he would never see Arya again, his wild little sister was most likely dead somewhere and he would always have to wonder what had happened to her.

Jon was brought back to the present by a small snore from Rickon. They had planted themselves in the solar that had belonged to Eddard Stark, and Sansa was sitting behind the desk and looking through the letters of Roose Bolton with the help of Shireen.

Jon was really tired himself after the day, even though there hadn’t been a battle per se, it had been trying on his mind and soul seeing his six-year old cousin run across the field and hoping to reach him in time. Without Rhaegal and Viserion, Jon doubted that he would have been able to save Rickon.

Rhaegal and Viserion had created so much panic and confusion in the ranks of their enemies that it had been very easy for the Stark army to make sure that the men who were crazy enough to keep in fighting, were neutralized, and round up the ones that surrendered. Most of the men had chosen to surrender.

Jon was startled from his half-awake state by Sansa´s voice. “The Greatjon is alive, along with Ser Wylis Manderly and a couple of minor lords from the North.” Jon blinked a couple of times to get the sleepiness out of his eyes.

“That is good news, are they being held at the Twins?” He asked, it was the most likely place for them to be in, as the hadn’t been ransomed back to their families, most likely Old Walder Frey wanted them close by for protection so that the Umbers and the Manderlys wouldn’t move against him.

Sansa nodded. “Yes, they are in the Twins apparently, along with some of the minor lords that Walder Frey decided to keep in his dungeons.” She was silent for a moment but then she continued. “It seemed that Roose Bolton wanted them back so that he would have an easier time controlling the lords of the north, but Walder refused him.” Sansa looked up from the letter.

“Maybe, Walder thinks that having these men in his custody will stop the other lords of the north from retaliating.” She wondered, Jon thought that she was right, having the Greatjon and Wylis Manderly in his custody made sure that those two families would behave themselves.

Well, as long as the situation wouldn’t change dramatically. But now with Jon being crowned king, and him having four young dragons and two bigger ones, changed the game a lot.

The Lannisters couldn’t protect the Freys anymore, the Lannisters would be in trouble themselves and the Freys would be hung out to dry. The Boltons would soon be gone from the face of the earth and could no longer assist the Freys in their backstabbing ways.

“We need to free them, when we take back the Riverlands and restore Edmure Tully as lord paramount.” Jon stated and he watched Sansa nod her head in agreement.

“There is also the problem with Lady Dustin, she is the last of the nobles that declared for Ramsay that is not in our dungeons.” Jon declared to his cousins. They had Lady Dustin´s father, Lord Ryswell and his sons locked in their dungeons, awaiting their trial and execution or banishment to the wall.

“We will have to drag Lady Dustin out of Barrowton, she will not care that we have her father and brothers in our dungeons, she knows that they will be dead or banished soon.” Jon agreed with Sansa there.

Lady Dustin was famous for her hatred of house Stark after she had been denied the late Brandon Stark´s hand in marriage. She would not come quietly. Jon would have to go to the Barrowlands and route her out with force.

“Then who will rule the Barrowlands and the Rills?” Shireen glanced at Jon and Sansa, waiting for an answer.

“Well, we will have to find someone loyal to house Stark, and there are now a few candidates that we can choose from.” Sansa said looking thoughtful. Jon eyes were drawn to her mouth as she bit her lower lip in thought. He hurriedly glanced back into the fireplace, trying to burn away the improper thoughts.

“What about the Umbers and the Karstarks?” Shireen asked, he could hear the curiosity in her tone, and he was thankful for the distraction.

“Well, Ned Umber will have to serve as the Lord of Last Hearth until we can free the Greatjon and Lady Alys Karstark will have to become the ruling Lady of Karhold, but they will have to be betrothed to someone from a house that supported us in taking back Winterfell.” Sansa´s voice was light and soothing as she answered the Lady of Strom´s End.

Jon liked this plan, while house Ryswell and house Dustin would soon become extinct for siding with the Boltons, as all of Lord´s Ryswells children, had either supplied men and horses or fought in the battle itself against house Stark; Ned Umber and Alys Karstark were children and hadn’t taken part in their father´s and uncle´s treason.

So, Jon and Sansa had discussed this at length and agreed that this was the best course of action, and they would be telling the lords of this when the rest of the lords arrived.

Jon looked over to Sansa, who seemed be think hard about something. “There is also the matter of Littlefinger and the knights of the Vale, arriving in three days.” Sansa seemed irritated at the very name, Littlefinger.

Not that Jon could blame her, the man had sold her like cattle to the Boltons, one of the families that had brought down the fall of house Stark.

“As they didn’t help in the battle, the north owes them nothing, but that doesn’t mean that Baelish isn’t dangerous.” Sansa fell silent and ran her hand through her lovely red hair. Jon didn’t like how distracted he was becoming from the topic, he had to focus on the matter at hand, and not how beautiful Sansa´s hair was in the fire light.

Jon didn’t miss how Shireen gave him a suspicious look, and an almost impish grin. He quickly schooled his features to give away nothing.

“I think that he will be trying to push for marriage alliances.” Sansa´s statement was followed by terror filled silence. Jon was not keen on marrying some girl that he had never met, that only wanted to have anything to do with him because he was the King.

He could also spy Shireen looking a little pale at the thought, she was the sole heir to the Stormlands now that all of Robert Baratheons children were known bastards, and the fact she was the only living child of Stannis Baratheon, and the fact that Renly never had any children.

It was very likely that Littlefinger would try to get his claws in her. He would most likely try to arrange a marriage between her and one of his lackies, but Jon would be damned if he ever let that happen. After all Jon was now Shireen´s guardian and therefore he would be the one determining who married his cousin.

And he would settle for nothing less than the best for his cousins.

But Jon was more worried about Sansa, he knew that some of the northern lords were already started to try to woo her, Lord Donnel Flint, was chief among them. But Littlefinger, Jon suspected would try to get his claws in her with more enthusiasm than Shireen.

While Shireen was the daughter of house Baratheon and house Florent, the later which was sworn to the Tyrells of Highgarden, Sansa was the daughter of house Stark and house Tully, and her cousin was Robert Arryn, the lord of the Vale. Whoever married her would have connections to two ruling houses and one that would soon rule the Riverlands again.

Should all the Stark and Tully men die, she would inherit the North and have a strong claim to the Riverlands and have very close connections to the ruling house of the Vale. Yes, Robert Arryn would be before her in the line of succession to Riverrun, but he was a sickly boy by all account, that may or may not live to see adulthood.

Jon knew that would be a very attractive price for Littlefinger. Jon looked at the ribbon Sansa had gifted him with, as he fiddled with it, he got an idea.

“Then perhaps it is time for us to arrange some marriages of our own.” Jon said, he had an idea on who to betroth Rickon too, but he wanted Sansa´s opinion. His female cousins just stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

“I was talking to the Wull, and he has a granddaughter, five-years of age. We could betroth her to Rickon. We know he needs to marry within the north and the Wull and the other mountain clans were one of the first ones to come to our side.” Sansa nodded, while looking thoughtful. But Shireen looked a little confused.

“Why does he need to marry a northern girl?” Shireen asked her cousin with a look that didn’t hide her bewilderment.

But it was Sansa who answered. “Well, our mother was from the South and I don’t think the lords of the North would take well to two southern lady Starks in a row, especially now that they have crowned Jon as king, who is half a Targaryen.” Jon could see the realization on Shireen´s face.

Jon was very glad that Sansa was here with him and helping him with everything. It was a large leap for them. As children they had barely spoken to one another, but now here they were, managing the north and raising two children together.

That thought brought a blush to his cheeks, he was raising two children with Sansa Stark. That thought made something in his stomach start dancing and he felt like it was filled with butterflies.

He tried to shake his head clear of the offending thoughts, but he just couldn’t, the fact that he and Sansa were now responsible not only for the north, but also trying to raise and protect Rickon and Shireen together, wouldn’t stop dancing around his head, in the end he gave up trying to make the offending thoughts stop and opted for leaving the room and seeing if some sleep would put a halt to this.

“I should take Rickon to bed, it is late, and I am also very tired.” Jon stood from his chair with Rickon in his arms and bid his cousins good night, then he fled the room as fast as was proper.

SANSA

She watched the king of the seven kingdoms practically flee the solar, leaving Sansa and Shireen alone together, and wondering what had happened.

But he had come up with a good idea to protect Rickon from Littlefinger´s marriage schemes. It would be a good idea to betroth Rickon to the Wull´s granddaughter, the mountain clans had been one of the first ones that had joined the fight, and the Wulls were the only one of the mountain clans that had a girl so close to Rickon´s age.

Sansa could see a little smirk on Shireen´s face as the young girl looked at the door their mutual cousin had just fled through. Did Sansa miss anything? She didn’t like the feeling, it brought to many memories of the Lannisters and Littlefinger back.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Sansa let a little playfulness into her voice, she really liked Shireen, Sansa felt like they were kindred spirts almost. They had both gone through a lot that could have been avoided if the world was just a little bit kinder to those that couldn’t protect themselves.

“Just a theory, but back to our earlier discussion, before our brave King decided it was past his bedtime.” Sansa could help but to laugh at that. The King of the seven kingdoms, who would jump alone, headfirst into battle and go flying on the back of a dragon, had practically ran out the door blushing when they had been taking about marriage alliances.

Yes, Jon´s idea had most likely solved their problem with Rickon, but Sansa, Shireen and Jon himself remained.

Sansa was most worried about Jon, the lords and ladies would be trying everything they could think of to marry Jon into their families, like when the Manderly girls had been fighting over him when they thought he was a bastard with four dragons, and now he was a king, the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, with six dragons.

Sansa had seen the look the older Manderly girl had given the younger one at the welcoming feast their grandfather had thrown, and she had heard the rumors afterwards that those two had gotten into a huge fight after the feast from Satin.

Apparently, the elder girl had wanted Jon to escort her to the feast and the younger one had been quicker to find Jon. So, the elder one, Wynafryd had settled for Lord Donnel, much to Sansa´s happiness.

The thought that Jon would end up married to some tart that only wanted him so that she would be queen, made Sansa want to vomit. Jon deserved someone kind and loving, someone that could be there for him when he needed her, not just to give birth to babes and look pretty.

Shireen had turned a little sad and she looked at her hand that were clutching one of the letters she had been reading. “Have you any idea for someone that I would have to marry?”

Sansa had one idea, but she hadn’t had time to bring it up to Jon and Shireen.

“Well, there is one I think that might work. His name is Jeor Mormont and he is the second child of Alysane Mormont, she is Lyanna´s elder sister, Alysane has two children the son and an elder daughter that will inherit Bear island after Maege and Alysane.” Sansa had been thinking about this a lot, the Mormonts had for centuries held both boys and girls in high esteem and therefore the young Jeor wouldn’t take badly to his wife ruling her own lands, if he married Shireen.

But he would have to stand up to Jon´s scrutiny. Over the little time Jon and Shireen had known each other, they had grown close and Jon being Jon, had grown very protective of her. Then again, Jon would like anyone that Sansa and Shireen picked, over someone Littlefinger could come up with. Sansa was sure that Jon would hate the person that Littlefinger subjected on principle alone.

The girl nodded but didn’t seem very sure of anything. “You now that Jon wouldn’t force you to marry anyone that you don’t want too.” Sansa knew that Jon would never do that, even if it angered some of the lords.

The girl smiled at that. “Yes, I don’t think he would force me to marry anyone, but we need to make alliances and tying the Stormlands to the north like this would be a good move, and the Mormonts are famous for their skills in fighting and the Stormlanders are going to respect that.” That had been Sansa´s thoughts too.

“What about you?” That made Sansa´s stomach drop, and she felt ice in her veins. She didn’t want to be sold to some stranger again, she knew that she would have to get married again but the very thought of some man…

Shireen seemed to sense Sansa´s distress. “I am sorry Sansa; I didn’t mean it like that.” Shireen knew that Sansa had been forced to marry twice against her will, sure she had said those vows, but Sansa always knew that she had no choice in the matter. If she hadn’t said those vows, she was sure that something more awful would have happened to her.

“It´s alright Shireen, you did nothing wrong.” She gave the girl a smile to assure her that she wasn’t angry at her. Sansa saw the younger girl, was looking at her worriedly and then at the door where Jon had fled. “Is something wrong Shireen?”

The young girl bit her lip as she contemplated on her thoughts. “It´s just that, Rickon and I have a few years until we have to get married to people that we don’t know, but you and Jon will have to marry someone very soon most likely. It´s just unfair.”

Sansa smile at the girl, Shireen Baratheon was a very caring person, and Sansa loved her for it.

“I should go to bed.” The girl said as she suppressed a yawn. Shireen stood up and walked to the door, there she hesitated with her hand on the doorknob.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you and Jon just married each other?” with that, Shireen Baratheon walked out the door, leaving Sansa stunned in her wake.

TYRION

Tyrion watched the carnage before him, that the queen´s monster had left in his awake. He had never in his life, felt such terror as when he had stared into the blood red eyes of Drogon. He had heard tales of the winged shadow but seeing him in all his one hundred- and thirty-feet glory had unnerved Tyrion and shook him to his core.

The dragon had most likely been lured into the city by the noise and the smell of blood in the fighting pits.

He looked around the pit, it was filled with Unsullied that were securing the area, after the black dragon had killed most of the sons of the harpy that had attacked the royal party. It was clear to everyone that they had intended to kill Daenerys, but they hadn’t expected the black dragon to come swooping in when he smelled the blood.

Burnt and half burnt corpses laid everywhere in the pit, filling to with the smell of cooked meat and ash. Most of the corpses would never be identified, and half melted stone was lying about in the wake of the queen´s monster.

Tyrion looked to his side where the lord commander of the queen´s guard was staring at the space where Drogon had disappeared from with the queen on his back. Ser Barristan had never looked older than he did now. The thoughts in the older man´s mind most likely mirrored Tyrion´s own thoughts.

Daenerys Targaryen could probably return to the city with a big dragon under her control. That thought rang out in Tyrion´s skull like a warning bell.

Tyrion couldn’t help the uneasiness in his belly at the very thought of Daenerys being reunited with the black beast as he was often called. The very thought of Daenerys Targaryen controlling a dragon made his insides contract and freeze. Could she both handle the ferocity of the dragon and her own violent streak?

In the last weeks, she had grown more and more unstable, her tantrums had grown more frequent and violent and so had her response to the sons of the harpy.

Every time the sons of the harpy made a move, Daenerys responded with executing ten random masters.

Tyrion had to admit, he didn’t grieve over those slavers, but if she handled them like this, how would she handle the lords of Westeros? She wouldn’t magically improve when she came to the country of her birth. Sure, it seemed that the only thing that the slavers respected was strength, but that was not how things worked in the west, the very land that she wanted to rule.

It took more than just strength to rule Westeros, as her ancestors had proven again and again. The best and the most successful rulers were both strong and wise and knew when to exercise mercy instead of chopping of heads or burning their enemies.

Her own paranoia was also becoming more and more apparent, she seemed to see enemies in every corner. Yes, the sons of the Harpy were out to get her, but she was executing people that she had no proof of having committed any crimes against her.

Not for the first time he thought on the similarities between Daenerys and her own father. What would the world look like now if Aerys Targaryen had a dragon? Tyrion shuddered at the very thought.

Sure, Daenerys wasn’t as bad as her father, who had burned people for his own amusement, but as Ser Barristan had told Tyrion in one of their late-night chats, that were coming more frequent by the day, that Aerys hadn’t always been so mad and all the texts agreed with the old knight.

The maesters agreed that Aerys had been very promising as a young man, but after the defiance of Duskendale, something in the man had finally snapped. After he had been rescued, the king had become more and more unstable until he finally lost his mind.

She wasn’t anywhere near the levels of insanity of the mad king, but it wasn’t only the similarities between father and daughter that worried Tyrion, it was also the differences.

Daenerys´s unbelieve amount of charm and charisma worried him greatly, she was very good at seeming good, unlike her late father in his later years. She could draw in followers like no one else he had seen before.

The slaves that she had freed was the primary example. Tyrion could understand why they had chosen to follow her, she had freed them from the misery of being slaves.

But Tyrion had doubted that it had been Daenerys´s intention when she had burned the masters of Astapor. After listening to Ser Barristan´s tale on what had happened, it seemed to Tyrion that is was a fortunate side effect.

By all accounts, Daenerys had gone there to buy slaves, but when she couldn’t pay for them with gold, she had promised a dragon. Then she had ordered the dragon to burn the masters to avoid giving up her favorite dragon.

And it seemed that Daenerys had gone unstable when the dragons had broken out of their prison from under the great pyramid.

But that brought the question back to Tyrion´s mind. Was Daenerys becoming her father?

Was that what was happening to Daenerys? Had the disappearance of the dragons, made her snap like her father before her? Would the return of Drogon turn her whole again?

No. Tyrion doubted that very much. He didn’t think that Daenerys would suddenly turn gentle by having a dragon by her side, if anything it would turn her more violent.

But maybe she wouldn’t return with the dragon at all. Maybe the dragon would decide that he wanted to be wild, like the Cannibal. But something whispered in Tyrion´s ear that would be unlikely. The Cannibal had killed those that tried to mount him, and Daenerys had managed to mount Drogon.

Tyrion would wager all the gold in Casterly Rock that she would be able to control the dragon to some extent. She had managed to hatch the three dragon eggs she had been given, why wouldn’t she be able to control the dragons that she had hatched?

But Tyrion had never heard of a Targaryen that had control over more than one dragon, every dragon rider that he had heard of had one dragon in their lifetime that they could somewhat control and ride, but never more than that.

So, if Daenerys could control the black dragon, Tyrion didn’t think it likely that she could control the other two dragons. Well maybe if Drogon could influence Rhaegal and Viserion, then yes, she would be able to control the other two, but as the green dragon and the cream one didn’t appear with Drogon, it seemed that they didn’t go to him when they had broken out of the pyramid.

Tyrion hoped that the other two wouldn’t return to the city. As much as he was afraid of Drogon, it was the green one, Rhaegal that worried him the most.

Rhaegal´s fires burned as hot as Balerion’s fires did at the peak of his power, and Rhaegal was only a fraction of Balerion´s age and size.

If the green dragon returned to Meereen and to his mother… well Tyrion didn’t want to think that thought through.

Tyrion had never felt the urge to flee a city so keenly before, and that was counting the time his father had sentenced him to die for a crime he didn’t commit.

But were would he go? He couldn’t return to Westeros as long as his sister was in power and if Stannis took the throne, well the less talk about Stannis Baratheon the better.

It seemed to Tyrion he would have to stay here in Meereen and try his best to fix the cities problems, that admittedly were many. Daenerys left a lot to be desired in a ruler, and she hadn’t even begun to try to fix the economy of the city after she had taken it, she was too distracted by the fact that the dragons had left.

And now that she was gone from the city, he could try and concentrate on the commers and try to get the people back to work, instead of trying to find the runaway dragons, alongside trying to minimize the damage of the plague that was affecting the city, the pale mare it was called.

No, Tyrion would have to bide his time here in the city of Meereen until he could find a way to go home without losing his head in the process.

Chapter Text

SANSA

This was the second night in a row that Sansa barely slept, but unlike the night before it wasn’t because of a battle that loomed over her. No, this time it was because of something else entirely.

Shireen´s words rang though her head. Wouldn’t it be easier if you and Jon just married each other? She didn’t know how long she had sat in her father´s old chair, in stunned silence before she left for her room.

Sansa had spent the night tossing and turning in her bed, while contemplating Shireen´s words. Could Sansa just marry Jon? If she was honest with herself, there wasn’t anyone else she would rather marry than Jon. The very thought of marrying him brought a smile to her lips for some reason.

Jon was not only the best option for her politically, but he was also the best option for her personally. Jon was honestly speaking, the only man that Sansa could see herself spending the rest of her life with, he was kind and honest, and he had always treated her with respect and listened to her opinion.

She also knew that without a shadow of a doubt that he would never hurt her like Ramsay had done, and how Joffrey had threatened to.

It would also help Jon politically, Sansa had ties to the ruling house of the Vale and soon the Riverlands, when Jon had restored house Tully to Riverrun.

It would also help him in the north, house Targaryen had promised house Stark a princess in exchange for their help in the first Dance of the dragons, but they had never made good on their promise, but if Jon offered house Stark, a king instead of a princess, that would make the lords see that Jon was making good on the promises of the past.

It would also give the north, a northern queen, and that would go far with the northern lords. A half a Stark King with a Stark queen would make the loyal lords of the north very happy; it would also tie the north so firmly to Jon that not one of the lords of the north could think that Jon was anything but committed of the land of his mother.

But more importantly, it would keep Jon and herself out of Littlefinger´s schemes of marriage. Though Sansa knew that Petyr Baelish didn’t worry about killing kings when it suited him. So, Sansa and Jon would have to work fast to eliminate him. Sansa would have to find food testers and they would have to form a king´s guard so that Jon would always be save.

Sansa knew that she needed to get the Bronze Yohn on her side, which wouldn’t be that hard when he found out that Littlefinger betrayed Ned Stark to the queen and when Sansa would tell him that it had been Lysa who had poisoned Lord Arryn on Littlefinger´s orders.

Sansa got up from the bed and up on a robe, she could see Ice lounging in front of the fireplace, but the rapidly growing direwolf was watching her closely, most likely hoping Sansa would come over and give her a belly rub.

She couldn’t help but to smile at the large wolf, Ice was so different from Lady. Sansa´s first direwolf had been of a light grey color and she had been better behaved than most people. But Ice was of a darker color and a lot wilder than Lady, but Ice was still well behaved and listened to Sansa and did everything that she asked.

Sansa sat down by her lovely direwolf and started to rub Ice´s belly, much to the pup´s happiness. Ice was quick to roll over on her back and Sansa laughed at the face her wolf was making. Ice looked absolutely delighted at having her belly rubbed and her tongue was hanging to her ears.

As she sat on the floor in front of the fireplace and petted her direwolf, Sansa´s mind wandered back to Jon and the prospect of marriage.

What would it be like to be married to him? As she started to imagine married life with Jon, her heart started to flutter, and her stomach was willed with butterflies.

She could see the sun had started to rise on the horizon, breakfast would be served soon, and she needed to talk to the King about marriage prospects. Not just their own, but for Shireen and they needed to talk to the Wull about betrothing his granddaughter to Rickon.

Sansa stood up, much to Ice´s disappointment and went to the closet. She dragged out her newest dress that was lovely stark grey and it had winter roses embroidered into the bodice of the dress.

She quickly dressed and hurried to the great hall with Ice following her. Some of the lords were already in the great hall, and among them was Jon and Rickon who had both taken their seats at the high table.

Sansa spied Ser Brienne and Podrick on one of the lower tables with some of the other knights that had come with them from White Harbor, the knights of White Harbor didn’t seem to have any problem with Ser Brienne having been knighted, in fact she seemed to have impressed them for having saved Sansa and having been knighted by the king himself.

Rickon seemed a lot more chipper than he had been the day before, but it seemed to Sansa that the overall demeanor of the youngest son of Ned and Catelyn Stark was different from what he had been before.

As a babe he had been rambunctious and would rarely sit still, but now he was trying his hardest to imitate Jon in every way it seemed. 

As she approached them, she could hear Rickon peppering Jon with questions, and Jon was answering them with more patience then she thought humanly possible at such an early time of day.

Sansa sat down beside Jon, who smiled at her and Sansa could feel her heart skip a beat. The only thought that was in her mind was how handsome he was. Had he always been this handsome?

Sansa had to forcibly push those thoughts down, she had focus on the matter at hand.

“Morning.” She greeted Jon and Rickon. While Jon was the perfect gentleman and didn’t speak with his mouth full of food, but Rickon had no difficulty greeting her with his mouth so stuffed with food that it was spilling out as he said “Morning.” Well, Sansa guessed that he was trying to say morning.

Jon laughed at the young boy. “Rickon, we don’t talk with our mouths full. You must swallow first.” Rickon stared at Jon for a moment, then he started to furiously nod his head. “I promise that I will never do it again.”

Rickon seemed so earnest at that moment that Sansa doubted that he would ever talk with his mouth full ever again.

They continued their breakfast and made some small talk. “Jon, can we talk after the morning meal? I have something to talk to you about.” Jon looked a little worried at she was saying, judging by the frown on his face, but nodded.

“Is everything alright?”

Sansa just smiled at him and nodded. “Yes, everything is fine, but we have to continue our talk from yesterday.” Jon´s face turned a little pink as he focused on his food.

After the morning meal, she and Jon vacated to the solar of the lord of Winterfell. Rickon of course refused to be left behind and followed them to the solar. Before she left the hall, she stopped by one of the guards, and asked him to send Shireen to the lord´s solar when she was finished breaking her fast.

Ser Brienne and Podrick followed them and stood guard outside the door. Ice had followed them into the solar and lay down in front of the fire, and all Sansa could think that this was the sleepiest direwolf in known history.

Jon took a seat in front of the desk, which made Sansa stare at him in surprise. Why wasn’t he sitting down in her father´s old seat? Rickon climbed into his cousin´s lap and made himself comfortable.

When she asked him why he didn’t take the lord´s seat, he gave her a smile. “This isn’t my desk or solar, you are the acting Warden of the North and Rickon´s regent until he becomes of age, until then this is your solar.” Sansa just stared at him in silence, she had known that Jon wanted her to become Rickon´s regent but him saying this so nonchalantly was very surprising.

“Are you sure Jon? I get you want me to become Rickon´s regent, but the Warden of the north is a military position and I have no military experience.”

Jon nodded. “Aye, I know but I think that it is best that I name you the Warden. You already know a lot of the things that the Warden needs to know. I will be making all the strategic plans and leading the men in battle, but the other duties of a Warden are all things that you know how to do, like supply lines and political maneuvering are things that you can do in your sleep.”

Sansa could feel the lump in her throat, she was so touched by his faith in her that she was close to tears.

His words made her more confident than ever that he really was the best choice for her as a husband, Sansa wanted a husband that respected her and trusted her to things more complicated than decide what they should eat for dinner.

Sansa rushed over to Jon, were he sat in the chair with Rickon in his lap and pulled him into a hug, effectively squashing Rickon between them. She couldn’t hug Jon for long as Rickon started to protest being squeezed between them.

Sansa sat down in her father´s chair, that was now her chair, until Rickon came of age.

“So, you wanted to continue our talk.” Jon stated as he watched Sansa with his valyrian steel grey eyes.

Sansa nodded. “Yes, Shireen and I talked after you and Rickon left yesterday, and I have a suggestion for a lord for her to be betroth her too.” Jon didn’t look like he was happy with betrothing his cousin to someone that he didn’t know.

Sansa continued. “Alysane Mormont has a young son, his name is Jeor Mormont, I was thinking that it would be a good match for the both of them. The Mormonts respect their women and I doubt that young Jeor will be much different.” Jon´s handsome face had lost its frown and he seemed to be contemplating this.

“Aye, I agree, he might even be content to let Shireen rule her lands as he has been raised on bear island, and it would tie the Stormlands to the North.”

Sansa smiled; she was glad that he liked her idea. “I have also been thinking about your idea of betrothing the Wull´s granddaughter to Rickon.” This made Rickon take interest in what they were saying.

“Do I have to get married?” His voice was high, and his eyes were the size of dinner plates. He was looking between Jon and his sister in alarm.

“Don’t worry Rickon, you won’t marry until you are grown up, for now, we just want to betroth you to the granddaughter of the Wull.” Sansa explanation left Rickon looking sour.

“I hope I never become an grown up.” He said and crossed his arms and pouted. Jon looked like he was trying his hardest not to laugh at the young boys’ words and Sansa could feel Jon´s pain, as she tried to suppress her giggles.

Sansa was very glad when there was a knock on the door and Shireen was announced. The lady of Storm´s End walked into the room and sat down in the chair besides Jon when Sansa offered it to her.

Sansa cleared her throat, now for the hard part. “Last night Shireen gave me an idea for both of our marriage problems.” Sansa stopped speaking for a moment to gather her courage. She didn’t think that she had ever been so nervous saying something to Jon.

Sansa looked up a saw that Shireen was smiling ear to ear. Sansa had never seen the girl smile so wide before. Well, there was no going back now, she had to continue.

“I think that it would be a good idea for us to marry each other.” That statement was followed by silence. Then Jon broke the it.

“Shireen, Rickon why don’t you two take Ice to the godswood and let her stretch her legs and see if you can find Ghost.” He let Rickon down from his lap and both Shireen and Rickon left the solar, but Sansa could see that Rickon wasn’t happy about having to leave the solar without Jon.

Jon waited until both Shireen and Rickon had left the solar before he said anything. When they left the room, Jon leaned a little forward and rested his elbows on his knees, but his sharp grey eyes never left her blue ones.

It was a while until Jon spoke. “I have to admit that it is the best political option for the both of us, but is this something you want?”

Of course, Jon would ask her if this what she wanted, he was just that kind of man, he wanted her to be happy. Sansa would have preferred more time until she would have get married again, but with the unmarried lords of the north hounding her and Littlefinger arriving in two days, she knew that she was running out of time.

“You are the best man I know, and you respect me and listen to me when I talk, and I know that you would never hurt me.” At the end, Sansa´s voice was starting to crack. Jon hurriedly stood up from his chair and pulled her into his arms.

He held her close as she tried to keep from sobbing. It would take more time for her to heal from the wounds that Ramsay had left on her soul, and she hoped that maybe one day she wouldn’t have his shadow hanging over her.

Sansa hugged Jon close to her and breathed in his scent as discreetly as she could, for some reason his smell made her feel better, he smelled so good that she wanted to bury her head in his neck.

When she had gotten her sobs under control, they took a half a step away from each other, but Jon still had his hands on her arms, and he was rubbing his thumbs in circles.

“I would be honored to marry you Sansa, but I want this to be on your terms, and I want you to know that you are in control.”

The smile that broke out on her face was probably one of the brightest she had in years.

JON

After hearing Sansa tell him that she thought that they should just marry each other, he was feeling like he was in a dream. They had talked for some time and tonight they would be telling Shireen and Rickon their decision, that they would be marrying soon after the execution of Ramsay Snow, but before Jon would have to go to the Barrowlands to root out Lady Dustin.

Sansa and Jon both thought it would be for the best to have all the loyal lords of the north to be in attendance when they got married. They didn’t want anyone of the lords to have an excuse to feel slighted after having declared for them and helped them in the battle against Ramsay Snow.

After they had removed Lady Dustin from the Barrowlands, they would be going south to the Riverlands and free the prisoners from the Red Wedding and they would also be retaking Riverrun from Emmon Frey and his wife Genna Lannister.

Jon was hoping that they could meet the Riverlords in Riverrun, and hopefully after seeing Jon free their liege lord from the dungeons of the Twins they would fall in line. There had of course been houses in Robert´s rebellion that had sided with the Targaryens, and even though some of them had been depleted after the rebellion, Jon hoped that they would still side with Jon when they had the chance.

Jon walked out of the castle and into the court yard, it was full of men that were still finding and cutting down the last Bolton banners, they were putting them in a pile some way away from the castle, where they were being fed to a fire that was still burning from the battle the day before.

Jon hurried the best he could out of the courtyard before anyone could stop him, after the conversation with Sansa he needed to clear his head, and he wanted to see the dragons.

He had been lucky to escape the castle, he had managed to convince Rickon that as the lord of Winterfell, Rickon needed to attend the lessons with maester Wolkan alongside Shireen. Rickon wasn’t happy about this, but he relented.

As Jon left the courtyard, he could see that the soldiers had made a tent city across the field in front of Winterfell. Jon walked through the field of tents and greeted the men as he passed. It took him some time to reach the edge of the encampment.

Jon continued his walk until he could see where the dragons had made their nest. Rhaegal and Viserion had dug out, with both claws and fire, a hole that they shared with the younger dragons.

Jon was very happy that Rhaegal and Viserion had accepted the four young dragons into their nest, it would make things a lot easier for everyone that the older dragons making sure that the younger lot was behaving themselves.

Jon knew that Rhaegal and Viserion had not always behaved themselves, but now it was much easier for Jon to moderate Rhaegal´s behavior and therefore Viserion´s, as the pale dragon looked to Rhaegal for leadership.

Jon continued to the nest that Rhaegal and Viserion had made for themselves and the smaller dragons.

Jon could spy Rhaegal and Viserion in their nest, and the others were flying high in the air, playing. Rhaegal spotted him as he walked across the field to their nest, and the great emerald dragon started towards him, letting out happy shrieks was he came closer.

Jon could hear the men in the tent city behind him, he could hear shouts from the soldiers. “Look the king is going to the dragons!” One voice shouted, presumably to get the attention of the other men. Jon was still getting used to the fact he was now the king, it felt so surreal to Jon having been thought of as the bastard of Winterfell for so long and now having to take on the mantle of Kingship.

Jon stopped paying attention to the shouts of the men and continued the walk to Rhaegal.

When they meet, Rhaegal lowered his head so that Jon could rub his nose, like the emerald dragon loved, the dragon purred with happiness at the nose rub.

Jon could hear Viserion, as the pale dragon walked closer to them and the shrieks of the four younger dragons as they came flying to greet him.

Viserion came to a stop besides Rhaegal and lowered his head so that Jon could pat him on the nose as well.

“Thank you, both of you, I don’t think that I could have saved Rickon without you.” Jon knew that without Rhaegal and Viserion, he would have been hard pressed to save his cousin, and he could never really thank them enough for having been there, to fly in to save Rickon.

The smaller dragons landed and demanded their share of petting for having guarded Sansa and Shireen so well. Jon let out a laugh as they clamored of his affection, but after a short while Jon made them stop and sent them back, it wouldn’t be a good idea for them to get too excited, Jon knew that what they learned now, they would carry with them for the rest of their lives so it would be better if they weren´t allowed to be too demanding.

Jon petted Viserion again and thanked him once more for his help in saving Rickon, then the pale dragon went back to the nest he shared with Rhaegal and the younger dragons.

Jon continued petting Rhaegal´s snout and he could feel the gazes of the soldiers, as they continued staring at him as he spent time with the dragons. Jon turned his head a little so that he could see the soldiers behind him.

From this distance he couldn’t make out their faces in detail, but he was close enough to see that they were both shocked and amazed by the dragons.

Jon turned back to Rhaegal. “Shall we go?” Jon asked his dragon with a smile on his face. Rhaegal let out a happy shriek and lowered his shoulder so that Jon could climb on, as he had by now done this so many times in the dark, that it was easy for him in the daylight without anyone clinging to him for dear life.

As soon as Jon was on his back, Rhaegal kicked off the ground. Even though the wind was rushing around his ears, he could hear the soldiers shout and cheer.

Jon looked down on the ground as the soldiers were very quickly growing smaller and smaller by the moment. Jon looked behind him and saw that Viserion and the younger dragons had decided to stay in the nest, as the four dragons that had been hatched on his funerial pyre, were still too small to keep up with the larger dragons in flight, and it seemed that the larger dragons didn’t want to leave them without supervision.

Jon decided to turn north, he didn’t want the knights of the Vale to see Rhaegal and start to attack them as they flew overhead in a fit of fear.

As they flew together in the cool northern air, Jon could feel his mind clearing from all the thoughts that had assaulted him that day.

Sansa´s suggestion had left him a little rattled, it wasn’t that he was opposed to marrying Sansa, no, it was the opposite, Jon was all too eager to marry her.

And that frightened him more than words could express. Sansa had suffered enough, she shouldn’t have to deal with the likes of Littlefinger trying to get his hands on her, and men like Ramsay who had abused her.

Then she was being forced to marry her cousin that she had thought was her brother for the most of their lives, so that some whoremonger couldn’t get his hands on her. Jon had never met Petyr Baelish, but he hated him with passion. That man was responsible for so much of the misery Sansa had gone through and now he was coming to Winterfell, thinking that he was welcome.

Littlefinger was in for a rude awakening if he thought for a moment that he could weasel his way into Sansa´s life again. Judging from what Sansa had told him of the man, Jon was sure that the man would try to cause as much chaos as he could to divide them and turn them against one another.

Janos Slynt had told Jon all about who had paid him to betray Ned Stark to the queen. Slynt had told him how Littlefinger had paid him to kill the Stark men while Baelish himself had held a dagger to Ned Stark´s throat.

If this information was revealed to the lords of the north, Littlefinger would never leave the north alive, but Jon knew that he couldn’t prove it, all he had was the word of a dead black brother that Jon had executed himself.

Jon knew that when the lords of the north had crowned him king, his word became unquestionable, but Jon was not going to condemn a man to death without proof, even though he knew in his gut that Littlefinger was as guilty as they came.

But that didn’t mean that he was going to let Petyr Baelish get away with selling his uncle to the Lannisters and selling Sansa to the Boltons.

No, he knew that they would have to stop the whoremonger, he would have to talk to Sansa and ask her more questions about the man that would soon be arriving in Winterfell, with the might of the Vale behind him.

VARYS

Varys entered the war room of the Baratheon´s of Storm´s End, inside the room were a couple of the commanders of the Golden Company, the hand of the “king” Jon Connington and of course Aegon Targaryen himself.

Varys was dreading telling Aegon and his council about the fall of Dragonstone. The boy thought of it as his ancestral seat and he would want it back. Varys had spent the day before verifying the news and as he had suspected, they were very real.

He had also gotten more news when he had been looking into who had taken Dragonstone. Apparently, Stannis was now dead, he had died in battle against the bastard of Bolton.

While Varys was glad that they didn’t have to deal with the middle Baratheon brother, far more serious problems had arisen after his death.

“Varys, do you have any news?” Aegon´s voice was starting to get on his nerves, maybe it wasn’t his voice per say, but the unbelievable amount of superiority in his tone. This boy who called himself king, seemed to believe that everyone that was different from him was beneath him, and he turned his nose up at them.

After his own thoughts on the boy the day before, Varys had decided to keep a close eye on the boy, and Aegon seemed to have little regard for the servants or the common people, despite having been raised among them while hiding.

It seemed that the years living with the common people hadn’t broken his habit of looking down on them as much as Varys had hoped.

Varys had asked his dear friend Illyrio to make sure that the boy would sympathize with the plights of the poor, but it hadn’t worked as well as Varys had hoped. Maybe it was the fact that the boy had been raised knowing that he was one day going to become the king of the seven kingdoms, that had colored his view on life, and made him believe that he was somehow better than common people.

“Yes, I do your grace.” Varys put on his best master of whispers façade. “There is some troubling news from Dragonstone I am afraid.” This caused the men in the room to frown, to the best of their knowledge, Dragonstone was left largely abandoned after Stannis had gone north and therefore there was no one ruling the island.

But despite the men murmuring and frowning in his direction, Varys decided to continue. “It seemed that after the death of Stannis in the battle with the Bolton bastard, Ser Davos Seaworth has gone to Dragonstone and is now holding it in the name of his new king.”

The silence was deafening. Then it was broken by a snort from one of the commanders of the golden company. “I heard that Stannis had only one child and that is a disfigured daughter, it seems that your information is wrong eunuch.” This caused the men in the room to laugh like the commander had said something unbelievably clever, but Varys was hard pressed not to roll his eyes.

“I never said that Ser Davos had declared for Shireen Baratheon.” This caused the men to fall silent. “It seems that the former hand of Stannis and the lords of the North had decided to follow a Targaryen king.”

Before Varys could continue with his report, Aegon decided to speak.

“Of course, they must have had news of our grand victory here in the Stormlands and decided to declare for me.” The pompous tone in his voice was more pronounced than ever before. “The Northerners must have thought that I will protect them against the Lannisters, but they will have to do more if I am to help them get rid of the Bolton bastard, I remember well their betrayal of my house and family.” This statement was followed by cheers.

“Your grace, you are not the Targaryen that I was talking about.” He opened his mouth to say more but he was interrupted again by Aegon.

“They have declared for my aunt? A woman? I am the rightful king of the seven kingdoms, and everyone knows that a son come before an aunt in the line of succession, even if she has dragons.” Aegon´s face had turned red with anger at the thought that some of the lords would prefer Daenerys over him.

Varys had to hurry before he was interrupted again. “Your grace it is not your aunt that they have declared for, but in fact Rhaegar Targaryen´s other son, his trueborn son by Lyanna Stark.” The young claimant to the iron throne had gone stark white, and Varys was sure that he had never seen anyone gotten so pale, so fast. Then the boy turned purple in his anger.

“My father didn’t marry that Stark harlot; he would never have done that. I am the only trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen. I am the rightful king of the seven kingdoms.” Aegon was shouting now and his spit was flying everywhere.

Aegon seemed to be preparing to continue his tirade, but Connington intervened. “Lord Varys, these are lies, surely?” Jon was begging Varys to confirm his thoughts, but Varys did no such thing.

“I am afraid not, it seems that not only does the son of Lyanna Stark have proof that his mother married Rhaegar, he also has the announcement of his birth and a document from Elia Martell declaring that she knew of the arrangement and approved of it, and there was a witness that is alive and well, and willing to testify that everything that has been claimed, is the truth.” Varys took a moment to breath before he continued.

“The boy also has Darksister, the crown of Aegon the conqueror and four living dragons.” All the men in the room were staring at him in disbelieve. Then the room erupted into chaos.

All the commanders were shouting at one another and the young claimant to the iron throne was shaking with anger.

“ENOUGH.” The room thankfully fell silent again after Connington had stood from his chair and demanded them to stop. “Even though this is true, the boy is only a second son and therefore he cannot inherit before Aegon.” This seemed to pacify the men in the room.

Varys looked at Connington, sure he was right but there was a large glaring flaw in his statement.

“Under normal circumstances I would agree with you Jon, but there is one large problem.” The men stared at him with such intensity that he thought for a moment that their gaze would burn holes into him. “Unlike this northern Targaryen, we have only our word that Aegon is the son of Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen, and the lords of Westeros will not just take us at our word.”

“Wait.” Harry Strickland looked at him with curiosity written plainly over his face. “Where has this “Targaryen” been hiding all these years if I may ask, it seems suspicious that he is only revealing his parentage now.”

Varys knew that this would come up, of course Harry would ask this question. “Apparently he was a member of the Night´s Watch, but he was released from his vows following some extraordinary circumstances.”

This made Aegon grin happily. “So, he is a criminal trying to steal my crown. No one south of the neck will follow a criminal.”

Varys shook his head. “No, actually he volunteered to join the watch without having committed any crime.” Varys looked over the room and gathered his thoughts before continuing. “According to my little birds, his uncle, Ned Stark was hiding him in plain sight for all these years in Winterfell, so that Robert Baratheon couldn’t get his hands on him. Lord Stark changed his name so that no one would suspect that he was secretly a Targaryen.”

Harry looked at him with his screwed eyes. “But surely the boy´s Targaryen heritage would have revealed him to the usurper?”

Varys shook his head. “No, is seems that he inherited his mother´s coloring and that was enough to pass him of as Ned Stark bastard son, and the boy spent his early life living among Ned Stark´s children, believing that he was their bastard brother, Jon Snow.”

Varys could see that the commanders were staring to get very nervous, something that Varys could very well understand. This Jon Targaryen was looking like a real contender for the throne, and the fact he had the backing of the north was something else indeed.

Yes, having Darksister, the crown of Aegon the conqueror and four dragons would go a long way for him in the battle for the iron throne, but the northern lords declaring for a Targaryen was very impressive indeed.

It must have been the fact that he was the son of Lyanna Stark that endeared him to the lords of the north, and the fact he was raised by the late Ned Stark, who was well loved in the north.

The northern lords would also be itching for revenge against the Lannisters, the Freys and the Boltons after the Red Wedding, and this Jon Targaryen had been raised to believe that Robb Stark was his brother, and most likely he would give the northern lords there revenge on a silver platter.

Varys had to admit that he didn’t know a lot about the second born son of Rhaegar Targaryen, but the fact he had the love of the north while still being a Targaryen and the fact he had somehow managed to get his hands on not only the sword of Visenya Targaryen but also the crown of Aegon the conqueror and four dragons, was enough to take a serious look at him as the future king of the seven kingdoms.

Varys looked on as the room had erupted into chaos once again, he could see young Aegon shout at Jon Connington about how this would not stand, no usurper would take his throne from him.

This was not what a future king should behave like, but would this Jon Targaryen be any different? Varys had to admit to himself that the lords would most likely never declare for anyone that behaved like Aegon was behaving now, in front of his own commanders no less.

Varys had also met Ned Stark, and he doubted that the man would have let his perceived bastard son behave like a spoiled princeling. This Jon Targaryen had also volunteered to join the nights watch and the life on the wall wasn’t easy, nor did the wall forgive weakness.

Varys had also heard another rumor about the second son of Rhaegar Targaryen, it was how he had been murdered by some of his black brothers for having negotiated peace between the men of the watch and the wildlings in the north. The rumors said that he had been put on a funeral pyre, like tradition of the watch dictated, then he had risen from the dead and out of the flames with four dragons in his arms.

He had decided to leave that part out of the report about Jon Targaryen, the commanders and Aegon would never believe that someone had risen from the dead, and Varys had wanted them to take the threat to Aegon´s claim seriously as he wanted to see how they would react to the news.

Varys knew that in all reality, the northern Targaryen had a better claim on the throne than anyone else in the world, even if Aegon turned out to be the actual son of Rhaegar and Elia. Unlike Aegon, Jon Targaryen had proof of who he was, according to the reports Varys had received and he had already shown it to the lords of the north.

Maybe it was time to go north and see the man that the northern lords were calling Father of Dragons.

Chapter Text

ARIANNE

The ship was making her nauseous like she never been before. Arianne leaned over the railing and vomited her breakfast into the sea. Overhead she could hear the seagulls cry and wail to one another.

The closer they got to Braavos, the louder they got, much to Arianne´s irritation. She had found that she had a deep and unabating hatred for these creatures that she was sure that came from the seven hells.

“Your highness, we will soon be landing at the docks, you should come to the cabin to ready yourself.” Arianne looked at her sworn sword, Ser Daemon Sand, the bastard of Godsgrace.

Arianne followed him to the cabin, even though she was having a hard time walking on this blasted ship. Arianne hadn’t had any intentions of returning to Essos, especially so soon after having returned from her mother´s residence in Norvos.

But as needs must, Arianne returned, but this time she went to Braavos. She had to go the iron bank of Braavos so that she could take out a loan, as she couldn’t reach her families fortune that was locked up firmly at Sunspear. 

As Arianne dressed hurriedly, she cursed her cousins and Ellaria Sand. Arianne had never suspected that they would have done this, she would never have guessed that they would have murdered her father and little brother Trystane and tried to murder her.

Arianne had always loved her cousins, so she couldn’t understand why they had done this. Sunspear was now firmly in the treacherous grasp of the sand snakes and Ellaria Sand. But as luck would have it, Ser Daemon had whisked her away before she could have been murdered my those kinslayers.

When they had boarded the ship, he had handed her a small wooden box, that her father had made him promise to give to her before he had been murdered.

When Arianne finished dressing, she walked over to the desk that was in the cabin and sat down. On the desk was the box that her father had wanted her to have.

She opened it yet again and looked inside. Inside was a large number of letters, one of them, the one that was at the top of the pile was from her father to her.

She had ripped it open as soon as she was alone in her cabin after they had started on their journey to Braavos. She had to read the letter at least three times before she could process the information.

She had never even suspected this information; it was so unreal that she half thought that her father had been joking. But her father would never joke about anything that involved her aunt Elia.

Arianne had been surprised at first that her beloved aunt Elia had agreed to this, but when she had read her father’s letter again, Arianne suspected that Rhaegar hadn’t been the only one that had loved the rose of Winterfell as she was called.

Arianne could understand, having had an affair or two with someone of the same sex herself. But there was nothing that could confirm her theory, and in the end both her aunt Elia and Lyanna Stark were dead, so it probably didn’t really matter. But that brought up the question, why did her father want her to know this? His last moments in this life had been making sure that Daemon had the box and would deliver it to her and getting her to safety.

She knew that her father had counted on Daemon´s devotion to her, to make sure that Arianne would get the letters. The bastard of Godsgrace had been in love with the princess of Dorne for some years now, and Arianne knew that he had asked her father for her hand in marriage and her father had refused him. Still to this day Arianne couldn’t understand what Daemon had been thinking. 

Arianne heard a knock on the door. Arianne stood up and walked over to the door and behind it was Ser Daemon. “We are docking now your highness, are you ready to go?”

Arianne nodded, she felt so defeated, knowing that she couldn’t go back to Sunspear, her home and the place she should be ruling now that her father was dead. The sand snakes, those treacherous cunts, should be rotting in the ground and not living in luxury in her home.

When they had docked, Ser Daemon and Arianne hurried to the building that the iron bank did its business in. Arianne could feel the anger rise in her gut, she had to go and buy an army to take back her home, sure there were some houses that would take up arms in her defense, but she knew that if she stayed in Dorne, she would be killed.

She also knew that when the sand snakes had taken Sunspear, they had acquired hostages from almost all the Dornish houses, as it was a tradition in Dorne that the heirs of the houses would be wards of the Martells.

So, now she was on her own in taking back her home, as she would most likely not get much help in taking back her birth right.

They had a litter take them to the iron bank, and the entre time Daemon tried to initiate a conversation, but Arianne wasn’t in the mood for small talk, ever since the sand snakes turned traitors, she hadn’t felt like herself.

When they arrived at the iron bank, Arianne vaulted out of the litter and hurried into the large grey building. Ser Daemon followed her into the building and announced her and that she had business with the bank.

One of the men showed them to a large room, inside it was a large circular desk with wooden chairs all around it.

They had to wait for an hour, much to Arianne´s irritation. She hated when she was made to wait for people, she was the princess of Dorne, she shouldn’t have to wait for anyone.

The representative finally arrived and bid them to sit down. Arianne smiled seductively at the man, but for some reason he didn’t seem to notice.

“Good day your highness, my name is Noho Dimittis and I will be helping you today.” The man was serious looking man with small eyes.

“Thank you for meeting with us, Lord Dimittis-.” Before she could continue, the man interrupted her.

“I am not a lord, your highness, just a simple banker.” Arianne was a little thrown by the man. She wasn’t used to be interrupted when she spoke, she was the princess of Dorne and the rightful ruler of her country.

“Pardon, I didn’t mean to offend.” She tried her best to be courteous, she would not shame her late father by being rude.

“It has been made known to me that you intend to ask for a loan to hire an army.” Noho stated as he looked at his papers that he had put on the desk.

Arianne confirmed this and the man hummed thoughtfully.

“Before we can do this, there are a few things that we need to talk about.” Noho interlaced his fingers over the papers. His gaze made Arianne feel very uncomfortable and she wanted to stand up and walk away, but she forced herself to stay. She had a mission to complete.

“May I ask why you intend to hire an army?” The way he asked was like he was asking her what the weather was like.

Arianne looked at Ser Daemon, she hadn’t expected the man to ask why, why did he care? But she knew it was better to answer, she had nothing to hide. “I want to take back my birthright, my cousins have betrayed me and murdered my father and brother.”

When she answered, Noho wrote something on one of the papers that he had on the desk. “As you may or may not know, Cersei Lannister, the queen regent of Tommen Baratheon, has refused to pay back the money the crown owes to the iron bank.” Arianne frowned at that, that woman had done what? Was she mad?

The banker continued. “As you can imagine, the iron bank is not eager to support Tommen Baratheon when his regent is not likely to pay back the debts owed to the bank, so we must find some else to support.”

Arianne started to feel very excited now, she of all people would want to see the Lannisters fall, but she said nothing as she wanted to see where this was going, but she could feel Ser Daemon start to get restless beside her from excitement.

 “Now princess, there are three other claimants to the throne, besides Tommen Baratheon.” Wait, three? Arianne knew of Daenerys Targaryen who was in Essos and was rumored to have three dragons, and she had heard of someone that claimed to be her cousin Aegon Targaryen, in the Stormlands. But who was the third one? Where the rumors of Stannis Baratheon´s death fake? If so, she wouldn’t support him to the iron throne.

Arianne refocused on what the man was saying. “Daenerys Targaryen is one, but she does have a history of not honoring her agreements, so she is not likely for us to support. Now there is this Aegon Targaryen, but he has no proof of being Rhaegar Targaryen´s son, so that leaves the third one.” He stopped for a moment as he looked at her to see if she was following him.

“What debts hasn’t Daenerys Targaryen not paid?” Ser Daemon piped up for the first time since the meeting began. Noho looked at the bastard of Godsgrace, he seemed to have forgotten that the man was even in the room.

“Well, we have reliable reports that she was in Astapor and intended to buy a slave army, when she didn’t have the gold to pay for the army, she promised to pay with one of the dragons she had hatched. Then when she had the army, she ordered the dragon to burn the masters so that she wouldn’t have to pay them.” Noho said it with such a matter of fact tone that Arianne almost didn’t comprehend the meaning of his words.

But there was another thing that she wanted to ask the banker. “What about this Aegon, why do you care if he is not the real son of Rhaegar and Elia?” She really was curious, lines of succession were not what the iron bank was interested in, what they were interested in was if they would get their gold back.

Noho looked back to her, and he almost smiled. “We don’t, but that brings us to the third claimant to the iron throne. He is the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.” Ser Daemon stood up so fast that his chair fell to the floor.

“How dare you! How dare you spread such lies to the princess of Dorne.” Ser Daemon was turning red and his hand was going to his sword that was on his hip.

“Daemon sit down.” Arianne´s voice made the knight stop and stare at her. Arianne´s thoughts turned to the letter her father had left her in the box, was this what he had suspected? Had he known about this person who was the trueborn child of Rhaegar and Lyanna and had wanted to support them in their claim to the iron throne?

The letter had clearly stated that her aunt Elia had known about the marriage of Rhaegar and Lyanna and had approved of it.

“But, Arianne-.” She sent the knight a look that made him shut up. She turned back to the banker. “Please, tell me everything you know about the child of Lyanna Stark.”

The banker looked at her, and this time she was sure that he had smiled a little.

JON

He was sitting nervously at the high table in the great hall, beside Sansa and Rickon. When Jon had returned from his ride with Rhaegal, he and Sansa had told Rickon and Shireen about their engagement. Rickon had of course learned that Jon was his cousin and not his brother, was thrilled that Jon would once again become his brother, through his marriage to Sansa.

Rickon had flung himself around Sansa´s neck and thanked her over and over again for making Jon his brother once more.

But now Sansa and Jon would be telling the gathered lords that when the last of the arriving lords had come to Winterfell and Ramsay Snow would be dead, Jon and Sansa would be getting married.

Jon was trying his best at not letting anyone see how nervous he was, by trying his best to imitate his late uncle Ned Stark. As he looked over the great hall and the lords and ladies gathered in it, he didn’t feel like a king, he felt like when Robb and he would play in the godswood, pretending to be the heroes from a by gone age.

Jon had felt like a child playing games when he and Sansa had talked to the Wull and lady Maege Mormont about potential betrothals between their grandchildren and Rickon and Shireen.

Of course, The Wull and Lady Maege had accepted their proposals, Rickon was the lord of Winterfell and Shireen the lady of Storm´s end, it was good matches for house Mormont and house Wull.

But Jon was sure that some lords, like lord Donnel who was the Flints son and heir, wouldn’t be happy that Sansa was marrying Jon, instead of marrying one of them.

Jon had noticed that Lord Donnel was always hanging around Sansa when he could, and Jon found it very irritating how the Flint heir was always hounding Sansa´s steps and trying his best to woo her.

Jon felt something nudge his knee and he looked down and saw his faithful companion, Ghost looking at him with his blood red eyes.

Jon didn’t know how the great direwolf did it, but he had managed to wiggle himself under the table, even thought he was getting way too big for it. Jon smiled at his friend who always knew how to make him feel better, Jon glanced around him to see if anyone was watching him, and when he thought that no one was, he sneaked a piece of meat to the large direwolf at his feet.

Jon smiled at his direwolf and straightened up, that is when he noticed that Sansa had seen him feed the wolf at his feet. She was trying her best not to smile at him, but her eyes were twinkling, merrily in the candlelight.

She leaned closer to him. “I think it is time for us to make our announcements.” Jon sighed, his palms were starting to sweat, and his heart was staring to speed up a little. He had often had to speak to a room full of people, but they had been his black brothers, they hadn’t been a room full of lords and lordlings.

But he had to do this non the less, the sooner he did this, the sooner it was over. Jon grabbed the empty mug that was close by on the table and slammed it down on the table twice to quiet down the people in the room.

It had the desired effect, and the hall became quiet almost immediately. Jon stayed sitting down and looked over the hall, every lord and lady had turned their eyes to Jon.

“My lords and ladies, there are a few announcements that lady Stark and I would like to make.” As he looked over the hall, he noticed that every noble in the room was looking very interested in what he had to say.

“First of all, we would like to thank all of you for your help and contribution in saving lord Rickon Stark from the Bolton bastard.” This was met with cheers and hollers from every corner of the large room. Jon let the room cheer for a moment before he continued. “But there is still work to be done. Lady Dustin, as you all well know declared for Ramsay Snow and she is still holding up in Barrowhall. But I mean to go to the Barrowlands and dispense justice as she not only betrayed house Stark, but the entre north.”

This statement was met with even more cheers, all the lords knew by now that Lady Dustin and her father had only sent a small part of their cavalry south with Robb, and that would not soon be forgiven by the people of the north.

But Jon was not finished. “After that I intend to go south to the Riverlands and liberate our brothers and sisters, that the Frey´s betrayed and are keeping hostage in their dungeons after the Red Wedding.” If Jon had thought that the statement before about dispensing justice to lady Dustin had been met with cheers, it was nothing compared with what he was saying now.

The people gathered in the room were shouting and cheering so loudly that Jon thought that he would go deaf. They were all shouting king Jon, the white wolf and the last dragon, they must have been cheering for a few minutes before the Flint of the mountain clans jumped on the table. “A TOAST TO KING JON, THE AVENGER OF THE RED WEDDING AND THE KING OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS.”

All the gathered lords cheered and emptied their cups in record time. After they had finished, Jon hurried taking back the attention of the lords. “Thank you, my lords, but there is another matter I would like to talk to you about tonight as well.” Jon took a deep breath before he continued.

“After much discussion, Lady Maege Mormont and I have come to the decision that my cousin Shireen, of house Baratheon and the lady of Storm´s end, shall be betrothed to lady Maege´s eldest grandson, Jeor Mormont.” As more cheers filled the room, Jon glanced at his cousin, who was sitting beside Sansa, Shireen was blushing at the attention she was receiving and thanking everyone who was now congratulating her on her betrothal.

By now Jon was getting really tired of talking, but he pushed on. “Lady Sansa and I also talked to lord Hugo Wull, and we have decided to betroth lord Rickon Stark to Lord Hugo´s granddaughter, lady Branda Wull.” This statement was followed by more cheers and congratulation to both the Wull, and Rickon who was sitting beside Jon and looking embarrassed.

Jon could see that the northern lords were looking relived at Rickon being betrothed to a northern lady, instead of a southern one. Jon glanced at Brynden Tully, who was sitting beside Rickon, in a place of honor. The blackfish seemed a little thoughtful at what Jon was announcing to the gathered lords, but Jon could also see that he didn’t seem displeased with this news.

But Jon was more worried about how the older man would take the news of Jon´s own betrothal to the man´s grandniece.

Jon took a deep breath to make the final announcement of the night, but he was interrupted. Lord Donnel Flint had stood up, despite his father trying to drag him back. “You grace.” The man yelled over the crowd and Jon had to force the irritation away as he watched the man approach the high table.

“Your grace, I would like to formally ask for your cousin, Lady Sansa´s hand in marriage” Jon could see the Flint bury his face in his hands, and the lords and ladies around the hall were starting to murmur to themselves.

Jon really wanted to punch that man in the face, he could feel Ghost stir by his feet and Jon knew that he had to calm himself down so that he wouldn’t influence the direwolf to attack the young lord.

But as luck would have it, Sansa herself decided to take charge of the situation. “Thank you lord Donnel, I am very flattered.” Jon could see that the young lord started to puff out his chest like a proud rooster. But regrettably for lord Donnel, Sansa continued.

“But I am afraid that I have promised myself to another.” This caused the chatter in the hall to increase and Jon could practically hear Brynden Tully whip his head to look at Sansa in shock.

Sansa looked to Jon for a moment before she kept on going. “When Ramsay Snow has been executed, I will be marrying my betrothed in front of all the lords and ladies of the north.” Sansa had barely finished speaking when lord Donnel started again.

“Lady Sansa, I would hear your betrothed name, so that I may challenge him to a duel for your hand.” The young lord declared loudly, and Jon could see the Flint shake his head at his son. Jon could understand the Flint´s dilemma, if he stopped his son, he would be undermining his own heir and that wouldn’t look good for him when he would eventually take his place as the Flint of the mountain clans. So, for now all he could do was to shake his head at his son´s brashness.

“NO.” Rickon´s sudden shout made Jon almost jump out of his skin. “You can’t marry Sansa. I am the lord of Winterfell and I forbid it.” Where had Rickon learned the word forbid?

Rickon had turned red with anger and was now glaring at the young lord that was trying to win Sansa´s hand. Everyone in the hall was now looking at the young lord of Winterfell is shock.

“You can´t marry Sansa.” Rickon´s high, childish voice sounded like he wanted to cry. “Sansa has to marry Jon, so that he can be my brother again.” The silence that filled the room was deafening and now everyone was looking between Jon and Sansa.

Jon had never in his life wanted the floor to swallow him up, more than in this moment. Jon noticed that lord Donnel was most likely feeling the very same at this moment. The Flint heir was looking pale and his eyes were opened wide as he glanced between Sansa and Jon.

“Lady Sansa.” The Flint heir´s voice was hesitant. “Are you marrying your cousin, the king?”

Now every eye in the hall was on Sansa again, but she just smiled gently. “Yes, the king and I will be marrying when the rest of the lords arrive and when Ramsay Snow has been executed.”

Jon spotted Howland Reed looking very amused by the entire situation as he sat beside lord Galbart Glover.

Then Jon noticed that Maege Mormont stood up to address the lords. “My lady, I think that I speak for all of us here gathered, when I say that we can think of no one better to serve as queen beside our new king.  Not only have the two of you restored house Stark back to where it belongs, but now you are here leading the north against our enemies that are coming for us from the north of the wall and have pledged to dispense justice to those who have betrayed the north and our friends in the Riverlands.” The lords were nodding in agreement at the lady of Bear island´s words.

Lady Maege grabbed a cup from the table and raised it high. “To the dragon king, and his wolf queen.” She shouted; her words were echoed by the other lords gathered in the great hall of Winterfell. 

SER BRIENNE

Brienne was following her lady around Winterfell. Brienne felt a great deal of pride serving Sansa Stark, she was a good and kind person who treated everyone around her well. Brienne had come to look at the young woman as one of her closest friends. Brienne couldn’t count the hours that they had spent in the evenings talking about everything under the sun.

So, it hadn’t come as a surprise when lady Sansa and the king had made their announcement the night before, that they would be marrying each other. Brienne had seen the little glances that they sent each other when they thought no one was looking.

Brienne was certain that the King would treat his future queen with nothing but kindness, he seemed like that sort of man. She could honestly say that she liked the young man that the lords of the north had declared king of the seven kingdoms, and she was sure that he would do a good job ruling with lady Sansa by his side.

And Brienne was sure that not many kings would have knighted her like king Jon had done. The moment when the dragon king had asked her to kneel and say her knightly vows, was the proudest moment of her life. She had dreamt of being a knight since she was a little girl, and now she was the first female knight in Westeros, and she had been knighted by the king himself.

Brienne looked to lady Sansa, as the younger woman was talking to maester Wolkan about the grain stores, the direwolf Ice was beside Brienne, no doubt to keep an eye on her mistress and to keep her safe.

It seemed that direwolfs took keeping their human companions safe, very seriously. Brienne had also noticed that when the king was keeping his feet on the ground and not on dragon back, that he was never without his faithful albino direwolf.

Brienne had heard the stories of Robb Stark, who had gone into battle with his direwolf, Greywind by his side, before she had seen him in person. The direwolf of the king in the north was very large indeed, but Greywind had turned out to be smaller than his albino brother.

Ghost was the size of a small horse, and Brienne was sure that if lord Rickon would decide to use him as a mount, the direwolf would be rather too big for the boy. Brienne had to admit that Ghost unnerved her more than his brother, Greywind had done. It must be the blood red eyes that spoke of more intelligence than the grey direwolf had, even though lady Catelyn had often said to Brienne that Greywind was incredibly smart.

The acting regent of Rickon Stark, stopped suddenly and looked over the railing and into the training yard, they must have been walking for some time while Brienne had been distracted by her thoughts.

Brienne looked over the railing to see what her lady was looking at. They could see the lord of the seven kingdoms teaching his younger cousins the how to hold a sword. While Brienne wasn’t surprised to see king Jon teaching lord Rickon how to handle a sword, she was pleasantly surprised to see the young lady of Storm´s End wearing trousers and holding a wooden sword in her hands.

Brienne also noticed that Podrick was attending the lesson with several others, she couldn’t help but to smile, Podrick was very eager to learn more and Brienne had a feeling that his grace was a more patient teacher than herself.

When king Jon was done correcting lord Rickon´s hold on the sword he let his cousins start practicing their swinging.

Beside her, Brienne head lady Sansa giggle softly. The knight looked at the lady of Winterfell with a raised eyebrow. Lady Sansa was smiling fondly down into the training yard, and Brienne thought that she seemed lost in her memories.

“Arya would have loved this.” The lady of Winterfell stated as she looked fondly at her family in the training yard. “She was always trying to get Robb and Jon to teach her how to use a sword.”

The longing in her voice was heartbreaking for Brienne. They stood there, looking down to the training yard in silence for some time, until they heard the sound of footsteps from behind them. As she turned around, Brienne put a hand on the hilt of Oathkeeper, ready to defend her lady.

But it turned out that it wasn’t needed. The person that was walking up to them was Ser Brynden Tully, lady Sansa´s granduncle. As Brienne looked him over, she noticed that he seemed troubled by something.

“Can we talk, Sansa?” His voice was ruff and deep, but lady Sansa smiled non the less at her granduncle.

The maester bowed to lady Sansa and hurried away, but when Brienne showed no sign of leaving her lady, Ser Brynden spoke again.

“Alone.” His voice was even rougher, and he was furrowing his brow.

But again, lady Sansa just smiled. “It is alright uncle Brynden, I don’t keep secrets from Ser Brienne.” Brienne could feel her heart soar like it always did when she was referred to as a Ser.

The older man looked at Brienne and then he nodded once. “Alright, I was wondering about the fact you are getting married to…” Ser Brynden fell silent as he gestured to the king, the older knight seemed a little embarrassed about talking his young grandniece´s upcoming marriage.

Lady Sansa looked at her cousin in the yard, and then back to her granduncle. “Jon is not my brother; he is my cousin, and cousins marry all the time. It is perfectly respectable.”

The young woman stared down her uncle with a glaze that seemed at home on a person that was a lot older than her.

Ser Brynden turned a little pink. “Yes, I know, but isn’t it a little soon after…” He fell silent for a moment and seemed to be looking for the appropriate words to use. “Wouldn’t it be better for you to take more time to heal?”

Lady Sansa looked him over, then she smiled gently. “Yes, it would, but I don’t have the luxury of time right now.” She looked back to the training yard where the king was correcting the grip of the lady of Storm´s End on her sword. Then she looked back to her granduncle. “But thank you for your concern, I really appreciate it, but the King and I don’t have a lot of time and we need to make sure that we are protected.”

Ser Brynden looked mildly confused. “Protected? Against what? His grace has six dragons and you both have direwolfs, what can they not protect you from?”

Lady Sansa looked at her uncle with curiosity. “There are things that dragons and direwolfs cannot protect us from uncle, like plots and things of that nature. Robb had a direwolf and he was murdered at a wedding, Jon had a direwolf when his black brothers betrayed him. We need to be careful now uncle, we have a lot of enemies that will be wanting us to fail.”

Ser Brynden nodded. “Yes, the Lannisters and the Freys are chief among them.” Lady Sansa said nothing to dispute than, the Lannisters and the Freys were among their enemies. But Brienne doubted that they were the ones that kept the lady of Winterfell and the future queen awake at night.

No, the enemies that Lady Sansa was worried about, were coming for the north and the one that was making his way to Winterfell, by the way of the king´s road, pretending to be her friend while he was anything but.

Chapter Text

SER BRYNDEN

He was mounted on his horse as he looked down the hill, there like a river of steel, horses and colorful banners, came the knights of the Vale. He could spot the banner of house Arryn and the banner of the Royce´s of Runestone, there was also the banner of the Waynwood and Corbray, Redfort and Hardyng. There were so many banners that Brynden was sure that all the houses of the Vale were represented.

But one of those banners made the man clench his jaw in anger, and that was the banner Petyr Baelish had taken for his own, the mockingbird. When he thought of what the man had done to his grandniece, he felt the anger start to bubble, he truly hated that man.

Then he spotted a few riders separate themselves from the march and ride towards them. Brynden glanced to his companions, on one hand was the lady of Bear island, lady Maege Mormont and on his other side was lord Howland Reed.

Behind them where fifty men, half of them in Stark armor and the other half were the sworn men of the king, in their new black and red leather armor that was made in the style of the Starks. The men were also holding the banners of house Stark and house Targaryen side by side.

Brynden couldn’t help but to smirk at that, that should cause some ruckus among the Valemen. As he watched the riders came closer, he recognized Lord Yohn Royce who was the lord of Runestone, Brynden had always like the lord of Runestone, he was a good and honorable man.

There was also the old Lord Horton Redfort with his well-kept beard and his mild eyes and his eldest son and heir, Jasper.

Brynden also recognized the heir to the Ironoaks, Ser Morton Waynwood and his adult son, Ser Roland Waynwood.

But Brynden didn’t like their companions.

Lyn Corbray who was the heir to his brother Lyonel, he was a young and handsome man with shoulder length brown hair and more vanity than was heathy for one man. There was also the rumor that he was always in need of money for some reason.

Ser Harry Hardyng was there also, Brynden hadn’t seen him for years now and when he had last laid eyes on the boy it had been when Brynden had been serving Jon Arryn. Harry the heir was a handsome man with sandy blond hair and blue eyes, but despite his young age he had already fathered two bastards.

And of course, the weasel himself, Petyr Baelish. That was a man Brynden hated with passion. The whoremonger was trying to get his hands-on Sansa, and that was something that Brynden would never allow.

As they got closer, Brynden saw the surprise on the men as they watched the banners that were flying above the heads of the Stark delegation. The Bronze Yohn was staring open mouthed at the Targaryen banner, and Lyn Corbray had gone very pale, but Baelish was better at concealing his surprise.

But he could still see the man was shocked. Brynden could see the man glance at the banner and Brynden with wide eyes before he hid the surprise.

“My lords, what brings you to the north?” Brynden asked they came up to them. He knew exactly what they were doing here.

“Ser Brynden.” Bronze Yohn was looking between them and the banners overhead. “What on earth is going on here?” Brynden could understand why the man was so shocked, after what Aerys had done to Rickard and Brandon Stark, most people would think that the northern lords would never declare for a Targaryen. But the Targaryen they were declaring for was the trueborn son of Lyanna Stark and he was also marrying another Stark, but the Vale men didn’t know that yet.

At Lord Royce´s words, Brynden turned to look at the banners behind him, then he turned back the men in front of him.

“This is the banner of our new monarch.” Brynden answered, he had to admit he was kind of enjoying this.

The men in front of them looked at the Targaryen banner again. Then Brynden´s ears were assaulted by the weasel´s voice. “I am surprised that the lords of the north would ever support Aegon Targaryen after what Aerys Targaryen did.”

Brynden raised an eyebrow, so that he didn’t know that King Jon was the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen, for if he did, he would have immediately connected the dots.

“I never said that it was Aegon Targaryen.” Brynden replied. He could see that Baelish was going to say something so Brynden interrupted him.

“Come my lords, I will take you to Winterfell, since I assume you didn’t come all this way to talk to me. But do send a messenger to your men and let them now that they can make encampment where they are.” Brynden turned his horse and started back to the castle of the Starks, with Howland and lady Maege following him.

As Brynden and the Stark/Targaryen delegation started their way back to Winterfell, he could hear the Valemen rush to give the orders to their men and hurry after Brynden and his companions.

“Ser Brynden.” Baelish´s weasel voice sneaked in his ears as the man rode up to him. “I had thought that you would be in the Riverlands at this moment, gathering men to retake Riverrun.”

“Is that so?” Brynden countered. He really didn’t want to have a conversation with this man. Brynden could see a flash of irritation cross the younger man´s face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

A smug smile appeared on the weasel´s face. “Yes, the last I heard was that you had surrendered Riverrun and disappeared. I had simply thought that you were now trying to gather an army, not hiding here in the north.” Brynden knew what the man was trying to do, Sansa had warned him that Baelish would be trying to get under his skin.

Brynden could hear the snigger from Ser Lyn, and the irritated sigh from Lord Royce. But Brynden couldn’t help the slight tug at the corner of his mouth in amusement. “You were wrong.”

“Ser Brynden.” The blackfish turned his head to Lord Royce as the lord of Runestone rode to his other side. “We have been hearing these wild stories about how Jon Snow is not the bastard son of Eddard Stark, but of him being the baseborn son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, is this true?”

The lord of Runestone´s eyes were the size of plates as he waited for Brynden to answer. Brynden didn’t want to lie to the man, Brynden had always like the Bronze Yohn, he was a true and honorable man, unlike Littlefinger.

“And who told you that?” Lady Maege asked the lord of Runestone. The short woman looked at the lord with a knowing glint in her eyes, Brynden could see that the willful and headstrong woman knew exactly who had told the lord of Runestone that Jon Targaryen was a bastard.

The lord of Runestone looked at Littlefinger, and the smaller man smiled. “Well, it just seemed so out of Eddard Stark´s character to father a bastard, and now said bastard has four small dragons. So, it seems reasonable that he is the bastard of Rhaegar Targaryen.” The whoremonger was clearly trying to impress them with his spy network and his knowledge of the king.

But he failed as Brynden smirked at the smaller man and Howland and Maege chuckled to themselves.

“Let hurry.” Brynden said with a cheery tone in his voice. “We are expected.” He nudged his horses to go faster and they galloped in silence to the castle of the Starks.

The ancient home of the Stark´s towered over them, with its tall walls and towers that touched the sky and the banners in white with the grey snarling direwolf, that fluttered in the wind.

As they passed through the gate into the castle, they could hear the loud noise of large leathery wings beating overhead. When they passed through, the Vale lords looked to the sky in fear and wonder as the two larger of the king’s dragons came into view.

The cream and golden one, Viserion as the king had called him, let out a deafening roar as he landed on the battlements.

Rhaegal, the king´s own mount, landed on the first keep, close where the King and the people of the castle where waiting. The largest dragon was so close that he could lower his enormous head into the courtyard and sniff at the king, if he so chose.

The king was standing with his betrothed and Brynden´s own grandniece. Jon Targaryen was wearing his usual northern style clothing with the Targaryen colors and his two valyrian swords strapped to his waist, and the crown of Aegon the conqueror was secured firmly on the king´s head, with the square cut rubies glinting playfully amongst the dark curls.

At his feet were two of the smaller dragons that were the size of large hunting dogs, the pale green one and the blue one. The other two where siting on two of the gargoyles that littered the walls of the first keep and watching the people enter the courtyard with their eerily intelligent eyes.

Brynden´s niece and the regent of Winterfell was dressed in her own house colors of white and grey, and her Tully red hair was in a northern braid. She sent her granduncle a smile as she stood in the courtyard with her direwolf, Ice at her side and her sworn shield, Ser Brienne at her back.

The lord of Winterfell was standing in front of the king and Brynden´s grandniece, trying his hardest to imitate his cousin, the king, by trying to look stern, but the look was very out of place at such a small child and came of as more of a pout. And on the king’s other side was the lady of Storm´s End clad in black and yellow of her house.

All the attending lords and ladies of the north were gathered around them, they were all looking very proud of their new king and future queen. Brynden could also see some of the clan leaders of the freefolk, Tormund giantsbane was standing close behind the king with his fiery red beard unkempt and a smirk on his face.

Brynden dismounted his horse and handed the reins to a stable boy. He walked closer to the king and the Starks.

Brynden cleared his throat, as he watched the Valemen dismount their horses. The surprise at seeing the larger dragons was clear on their faces, and for the first time Petyr Baelish was clearly having a hard time concealing his shock as he watched the emerald green dragon bare his ink black teeth, that reminded Brynden of longswords.

Brynden started by introducing the lords and knights of the Vale, and he could see that the northern lords weren’t impressed. They remembered clearly that the knights of the Vale had stayed in the Vale in the war of the five kings, when Robb had clear need of his aunt and cousins support.

But Sansa made sure that the dislike she had for Baelish couldn’t be seen on her face and as she spoke, she was looking every inch the queen she soon would be. “My lords, welcome to Winterfell.”

Sansa smiled at the lords as she continued. “May I introduce my brother, lord Rickon Stark the lord of Winterfell, and lady Shireen Baratheon the lady of Storm´s End.”

The regent of Rickon Stark fell silent as she allowed the visiting lords to greet their host and the lady of Strom´s End, then Sansa introduced the king. “And of course our mutual cousin, King Jon of house Targaryen, the first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the first men, the lord of the seven kingdoms, protector of the realm and defender of the faith, the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, the last dragon, the white wolf, the undying and father of dragons.”

Sansa had been smiling the entre time as she spoke, and with every word her smile grew larger. She was clearly enjoying this as much as Brynden was.

The lord of the Redfort was looking pale and he was opening his mouth and closing it in shock at the news. Baelish opened his mouth to say something, but Sansa was faster.

“My lords, why don’t we continue this inside, you must be weary from the road.”

At these words, the great emerald dragon, let out a deafening roar and took to the skies and made the Valemen jump with fear, Rhaegal was followed by the cream and golden one, Viserion into the sky above Winterfell. But the smaller dragons stayed with the king, the red and silver ones that had been resting on the gargoyles jumped down to the ground.

The king offered his arm to his betrothed, and they made their way to the great hall followed by lord Rickon and lady Shireen and four dragons and a direwolf.

It was then Brynden wondered where the great white direwolf of the king was hiding. He hadn’t seen the direwolf that seemed to shadow the king every time when he had his feet on the ground.

Brynden gestured for Bronze Yohn to follow them and hurried after the northern lords into the great hall.

SANSA

The look on surprise on Littlefinger´s face told her everything she needed to know. He clearly hadn’t known about Rhaegal and Viserion, that was evident by the look on his face. And he hadn’t known that Jon was the trueborn son and heir of Rhaegar Targaryen.

Sansa knew that when Littlefinger had seen the crown of Aegon the dragon, the weasel like man, had of course guessed that they had crowned Jon because of his connections to the Targaryen line and his dragons, but he clearly hadn’t gotten any news from White Harbor about Jon trueborn status yet.

The man had after all been on the road for some time and it was hard getting reports from your spies when you were on the move.

Jon and Sansa walked side by side to the great hall and took their seats, as Jon helped her to her seat, like the gentleman he was, she couldn’t help but to notice that Rickon was attempting to do the same to Shireen.

Both ladies tried their best to hide their smiles, as the young boy helped Shireen to her seat. It seemed that Rickon wasn’t going to stop his hero worshiping of Jon anytime soon, as the young boy followed Jon wherever the king went if he possibly could and tried to imitate him in every way.

The only time when Jon had a moments break was when Rickon had his lessons with the maester. Jon didn’t even have a break from Rickon at night, as the young boy had started to have night terrors, and no one could console him but Jon.

So, for the last two nights Jon had been woken up in the middle of the night by one of Rickon´s guards. Then Jon had taken the boy to his solar and they would sit together, and Jon would tell Rickon stories until he fell asleep again.

That was where Sansa had found them this morning, in Jon´s solar. Jon had been sleeping in his chair with Rickon in his lap and Ghost had been asleep by his feet.

Sansa had stood in the doorway and just looked at them for some time, they had looked the picture of a father and son, just sleeping there. She couldn’t help but to wonder if their children would have the same bond with Jon as Rickon had now.

That very thought had made her blush to the roots of her hair, she could barely look at Jon with Rickon and Shireen without thinking how wonderful father Jon would make.

Sansa forcibly brought her thoughts back to the present. She felt something radiate heat next to her, and as she looked over to Jon, she could see that the red dragon, Charon had taken up residence in Jon´s lap even though he really didn’t fit, Charon had to let his tail dangle out of the chair and he had laid his head on the table, while the blue one, Sycorax was using the back of Jon´s chair was a perch.

The pale green one and the silver one, Oberon and Umbriel had decided to rest in front of the high table with Ghost and Ice. Ghost had decided that he would stay inside while they had gone to greet the new arrivals.

Sansa watched as all the lords of the north and the freefolk leaders took their seats, the inhabitants of the hall were trying their best to hide their gleefulness. She could understand the northern lords, they were still angry at the knights of the Vale for sitting out the war of the five kings when their liege lord had such close family ties to the Starks.

Sansa´s granduncle walked into the hall with the lords and knights of the Vale following him, the Valemen were still looking a little rattled from seeing the large dragons and hearing about Jon´s claim to the throne.

They approached the high table but stopped a few feet away, when Umbriel gave them a warning hiss as the silver dragon watched them with golden eyes.

Silence filled the hall as the Valemen stared at the dragons in front of them. But finally, Jon broke the silence. “My lords.” His voice was deep, and all the lords were listening with rapt attention. “May I ask what you are doing here in the north with an army at your back?”

Littlefinger stepped forward. “When we heard that lady Sansa was gathering an army, lord Arryn immediately called the knights of the Vale to help her take back her home. To our surprise we weren’t needed and the direwolf banner once again flies above Winterfell where it belongs.”

Sansa couldn’t help the irritation that she felt at the ferret´s words, but she made sure that her face betrayed none of her feelings.

“That is strange.” Jon continued. “The last I heard was that you were a Lannister man.” That statement alone was enough for the lords and ladies of the north to start shouting and yelling at Littlefinger, much to Sansa´s amusement.

Sansa had to admit that she was enjoying this very much. Littlefinger had probably expected her to beg him for his aid, and then he would come to her rescue at the last moment possible moment when both Jon and Rickon had been murdered, leaving her as the sole heir to Winterfell.

The fact that Jon had four young dragons probably hadn’t worried Littlefinger a lot, young dragons could be killed much easier than the older ones, as the riots after the dance of the dragons had proven, when the mob had broken into the dragon pit and the people had killed a lot of the Targaryen dragons as they had been trapped and chained.

But now that plan had gone out the window, and Jon and Rickon were both alive and Jon having been declared king by the northern lords with two much larger dragons to his name.

The hall was filled with the voices of the people of the north until Jon lifted his hand a little to signal them to be quiet, as he raised his hand, the hall fell silent immediately. Jon never took his eyes from the shorter man as he stood there in the middle of the great hall before the high table, trying to find an answer to put before the king of the seven kingdoms.

Littlefinger cleared his throat. “I do not support the Lannisters, by coming here I have publicly declared for house Stark for the whole world to see.” This made Sansa raise an eyebrow, she didn’t believe him for a second, and judging by the murmurs in the hall, neither did the lords of the north.

Sansa leaned forward on her elbows. “You do realize that house Stark has declared for King Jon, and recognizes no other monarch to rule over the seven kingdoms? And by declaring for house Stark, you are declaring for King Jon?”

As soon as she said that last part, the lords of the north started to chant Jon´s name. The great hall was filled with the chants of King Jon for a few moments before Jon quieted them down again.

“Lady Sansa.” She looked at the Valemen again, and she could see Ser Lyn Corbray step forward to speak. “How do we even know that this…Jon is the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen? He could be lying for all we know.”

This made the lords start their shouting again, but this time it was directed at the knight. She could see that the Flint was standing up and screaming. “You dare call our king a liar?”

Jon silenced the lords yet again; she could see that he was staring to get really tired of having to call them to order again and again. Then Jon nodded at Howland Reed who was standing a little to the side in the great hall, ready to show the Valelords the proof that they had that Jon was indeed the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen.

Lord Reed read out loud the letters and documents that they had from the high septon that had married Rhaegar and Lyanna, and the document that Elia Martell had written up about her approval of the marriage, and then he let them all see the sigils that proved that the letters were penned by the people that lord Howland said they were written by.

At seeing the proof, Ser Lyn was looking a little pale, he hadn’t expected them to have proof of Jon´s parentage. But she could see that he wasn’t done as he straitened himself and continued talking. “But he is still after Aegon Targaryen in the line of succession, a second born son cannot come before a first born.”

This made the people in the hall chuckle and laugh, and she smiled in amusement. “King Jon has provided proof of who he is, he has proven beyond a doubt that he is the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, but this…Aegon has not proven himself to be the son of Rhaegar and Elia, and if King Jon has to prove that he is the trueborn heir, so does this Aegon character.”

Ser Lyn looked a little lost for a moment, but then he tried again. “But Aegon has been rumored to have the Valyrian coloring, unlike-.” He cut himself off, it was like he could bring himself to call Jon a king, but if he called him a prince, when the lords in the hall had declared him a king, would anger the lords.

Sansa could feel Shireen adjust in the seat beside her. “So do thousands of people in Lys.” The lady of Storm´s End voice rang throughout the hall. “Are they all the son of Rhaegar Targaryen?”

Shireen´s quip made the northern lord start laughing, and Sansa couldn’t resist sending the younger girl a small smile.

Sansa could see the knight was becoming more and more embarrassed by the moment, so she decided to take charge with this conversation. “Enough my lords, house Stark has declared for King Jon and so has the north and the lady of Storm´s End and that will not be changing because of someone that claims to be Aegon Targaryen but has not provided proof of said claims.” Her voice rang throughout the hall and her statement was followed by cheers of the northern lords and ladies.

Jon smile to her and she could feel warmth spread in her belly. “Thank you, lady Sansa, for those words, I shall always strive to be worthy of the loyalty you have shown me today.” Jon deep voice was met with more cheers from the lords of the north, and Sansa could see the Littlefinger was having a hard time concealing his emotions at the moment. It seemed like his plans were going up in smoke right in front of him.

“Lady Sansa.” Littlefinger´s voice carried over to them. “You are absolutely right, we cannot ask King Jon to provide proof of his parentage but not this Aegon, whoever he is.” The self-satisfied smirk was back in full force, and she wanted to smack it of his face.

“But there is still the issue of your vows to the nights watch.” Littlefinger´s smirk was in full force now. “As we all now, when one takes the vows, they are bond to the watch for life.”

Sansa interlaced her fingers and leaned forward on her elbows. “King Jon has already fulfilled those vows, lord Baelish.” The lords of the north and the freefolk all made murmurs of agreement. By now all the lords knew of how Jon had stepped out of his funeral pyre with his young dragons.

“I thought that a man had to die for them to be released from his night´s watch vows.” Ser Lyn stated with a smug smile, most likely thinking that he had them there.

“You are right.” Sansa answered with a smile. “A man has to die to be released from his vows of the night´s watch.”

This was followed by silence, all the Valemen looked at her with confusion plainly written on their faces.

“But Lady Sansa.” Lord Yohn Royce stepped forward hesitantly. “How can he be here alive before us, if he died to fulfill his vows to the nights watch?” She could see it in his eyes, that he really wanted to believe what they were saying but he couldn’t see how it was possible.

“Lord Royce.” Jon spoke up. “After I negotiated with the freefolk, I was stabbed to death by some of my black brothers.”

Lord Royce and lord Redfort looked at Jon like he had lost his mind, but the two young knights Ser Lyn and Ser Harry just laughed. But they quickly fell silent when no one joined them, but Littlefinger was having a hard time hiding his smug smile.

Before anyone could call him a liar, Jon put Charon on the floor beside and stood from his chair. Then he started to take of his jerkin, when he had taken the jerkin of his person, he placed it in the chair. The crown of Aegon the conqueror was put on the table and he started to work on the shirt.

Sansa could see the startled looks on the Valelords, and she noted that her uncle looked a little curious as well, then it dawned on her, he had never seen Jon´s murder scars.

But as Jon´s shirt came off, the occupants in the hall looked on in horror at the scars that littered Jon´s otherwise perfect torso. The scars were still angry red and still looked painful to bear, but no one in the hall could deny that the wounds that had caused the scaring had been lethal.

Sansa couldn’t help but to study her betrothed chest, she looked on in fascination as his muscles move with every breath and how broad and powerful his shoulders looked. She could feel the heat rise in her belly was she watched him, but thankfully Jon put on his shirt back on before anyone noticed that she couldn’t take her eyes of him.

Sansa could feel a blush coming on, and she noticed that Shireen was giving her an impish grin. It seemed that the younger lady suspected that Jon taking of his clothes next to her was having an effect on Sansa, and she was right.

Sansa sat up straighter in her chair and looked to the lords, the lords of the Vale were all pale and the disbelieve was clear on their faces, it was clear to her that they hadn’t expected Jon to be telling the truth.

Jon had sat back in his chair and the crown of Aegon the conqueror was back to where it belonged, on his curly head and his jerkin was back on his body but he had left it open. It was then she noticed that Littlefinger was looking at her with suspicion, and Sansa could feel the dread settle in her stomach. Had he seen the way she was looking at Jon?

Jon´s voice cut through the silence that was filling the hall. “My lords I have another thing to show you.” Jon nodded at one of his men, that rushed out of the hall.

The man returned with one of the creates that hid one of Jon´s undead murders. They had talked about this, neither one of them wanted to show the lords the dead man with both Rickon and Shireen in the room, but Jon and Sansa also knew that they wouldn’t be children forever and if something happened to Jon and Sansa, Shireen and Rickon would have to lead the kingdoms in the war with the Others as the head of their houses.

Sansa grabbed Shireen´s hand and whispered words of encouragement. This was the reason that Jon had taken the dragons inside and had both his valyrian steel swords on his person. To make sure that the dead man couldn’t hurt Rickon or Shireen.

Jon nodded at the captain of his guard, and the men threw open the create, the dead man rolled out of it. The smell was almost overwhelming, and clothing were now just black rags. But the decay was less than Sansa had expected from a body that had been killed around three months ago.

The corpse shrieked and charged at Ser Harry, the young man tried to kill the thing with his regular castle forged steel, but the dead man just kept on going. The fear in the young man´s eyes was almost overwhelming, and it wasn’t until Ser Lyn started to attack the dead man with his own valyrian steel sword, that they could finally kill the creature.

“This was one of the men that killed me.” Jon stated as a matter of fact. “His name was Ser Alliser Thorne, and he was the first ranger of the night´s watch.” Jon let the silence fall over the hall.

“Your grace.” Ser Harry spoke, and he was so rattled that they almost couldn’t understand what he was saying. “Why didn’t my sword do anything to hurt him?” He was so pale that he looked like he would be fainting from fear.

“Because it is castle forged steel, it doesn’t work on the dead, only fire, dragonglass and valyrian steel seems to work to permanently kill those things.” The king replied, and his face was like it was carved from stone as he continued. “The dead are marching on the wall as we speak, and sooner or later they will find a way to break though the wall.”

Jon fell silent for a moment, and it was like everyone in the hall held their breath as they waited for him to continue. “We cannot run from them, we cannot hide from them, our only hope is to stand together against our common enemy before they break through the wall. If they get south of the neck, all is lost.”

Sansa could almost see the moment when lord Royce decided to follow Jon, it was clear on the man´s face that he knew that Jon was their best option. The man drew his sword from its sheath and fell to his knee, lord Redfort followed him almost immediately as did his son.

Anya Waynwood´s son and heir and his son also followed suit and declared for Jon. Sansa could see that Harry Hardyng was still staring at the body of the dead man, then he started to nod his head furiously and dropped to his knee, and he was followed by Ser Lyn.

Now every eye turned to Littlefinger, all of his allies had now declared for Jon, so the man had no other chose but to do so as well.

Sansa could help but to fell a little vindicated at seeing the man drop to his knees and swear his fealty to Jon, but to Sansa this was not enough, and she knew that this would not be enough for Jon either, but for now everything was going according to plan.

Chapter Text

BRAN

He was sitting in a chair, staring into the fire. The road had been long and hard, but they were finally on the safer side of the wall. Bran glanced at Meera who was sitting by the table and writing her letter.

She was writing her father, lord Howland Reed that she was alive and well and that they were on their way to Winterfell. Bran had told her that her father was in Winterfell with Sansa and Jon.

The trip to Winterfell would likely take three weeks, so that it was likely that they would miss the wedding. That broke Bran´s heart that he would miss his sister´s wedding, he wouldn’t be there when Sansa would finally be married to a man that would make her happy and be good and kind to her, like she deserved.

Bran discreetly wiped his cheeks so that Meera wouldn’t see his tears and he looked around the depressing room.

The room they were in was small and dark, but it shielded them from the cold wind that blew outside and that for Bran was a luxury that he treasured. The trip from the cave of the three eyed raven, had been hard on them and the entre time, Bran had been wishing for a bed to sleep in and a hot meal.

Bran glanced around the room again and noted that it was completely bare of any personal items, but he knew that this was the room that his sister had used when she had come to the wall around three months ago.

He had seen her arrive at the wall seeking the protection of the man that they had thought to be their half-brother until a few months ago, through the Weirwood network, but that was not the only thing he had seen.

Bran had seen the birth of his cousin Jon or Aenar Targaryen, and how Bran´s father had promised his dying sister that he would protect her son. Bran couldn’t help but to be angry at his father, for letting Jon think that he was a bastard, and denying him of his birth right. Bran blamed Ned Stark as much as Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister for that.

Bran knew that Eddard Stark wouldn’t have stopped fighting for Robb´s birth right or Bran´s, so why not fight for Jon´s. Dragonstone and the iron throne was just as much Jon´s, as Winterfell and the north had been Robb´s.

But no, Ned Stark had let Jon think that he was a bastard and let the young man exile himself to the wall, thinking that it was the only way for him to have any sort of honor. Bran also knew that one of the reasons that Jon had decided to go to the wall was because he knew that Bran´s mother didn’t want him in her home, and Jon wouldn’t be welcome at Winterfell as long as she was there.

But Jon´s birth and Sansa´s arrival wasn’t the only things he had seen. He had also seen Jon´s death at the hands of his sworn brothers, and how Jon had risen from the fire with four young dragons. Bran had seen how Jon and Sansa had gone to rally the lords of the north to take back their home and rescue the lord of Winterfell, Rickon Stark.

Bran knew that he would never be the lord of Winterfell, he had another role to play now, he was the three eyed raven and the raven didn’t rule anything or anyone, a raven simply watched.

And Bran would watch, he would watch over his family and make sure that no one would hurt them again, the Starks had suffered enough for a millennium, but they had to stand together now and face the long night. Bran was glad that Jon and Sansa where already working on gathering dragonglass and uniting the seven kingdoms.

They already had the north and the Vale of Arryn, and Jon would soon be going south to the Riverlands to drive out the Lannisters.

The only living person that really worried Bran, was Daenerys Targaryen, Bran had seen a little of her and what she was capable of, and what he had seen worried him greatly. She reminded him too much of her father as he had stood on the precipice of true madness.

Bran could feel it in his bones that she would only get worse from here on out, he was sure that when she found out that Jon was the trueborn heir to the iron throne, and had two of the dragons that she had hatched, she would lose what little remained of her sanity. Not to mention when she found out that he had hatched dragons of his own as well.

There was also the Targaryen pretender in the Stormlands, but he didn’t worry Bran like Daenerys Targaryen, mostly because he wasn’t on the verge of completely losing his mind while having a large, angry and almost uncontrollable dragon.

She believed Drogon to be the incarnation of Balerion the black dread, but Bran didn’t think so. Sure, they had the same coloring and the similar temperament, but there was where the similarities ended.

Bran sighed and rubbed his temples, he had spent too long in the Weirwood network today, and he was now suffering the consequences from that. After being so long in the past, he was always tired and irritable afterwards.

“Are you alright Bran?” Meera´s kind voice broke through his thoughts. He sent her a small smile.

“Yes, I am fine, just tired, I was too long in the network today.” He answered her, hoping beyond hope that she would let the matter drop. But she cared too much to drop the matter, and that was why he loved her.

“You are worried.” She stated as she stared him down with her brown, bottomless eyes.

He sighed again. He was sure that he would never be able to keep anything from her. “Yes, I am, I’m worried about how Daenerys Targaryen will react when she finds out that she isn’t the rightful heir to the seven kingdoms.”

Meera looked worried now as well. “Has she gotten control of the black dragon?” She asked him with caution clear in her voice.

Bran frowned; it was hard to say. While she could have some control over Drogon, Bran knew that she would never have the control Jon had over Rhaegal, as the rightful king of the seven kingdoms could warg into his dragon and that Rhaegal didn’t have the same bad tamper as Drogon did.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t with her today.” He answered truthfully, he had been in the Riverlands, looking into the Lannister camp. It seemed like Jaime Lannister wasn’t willing to go to the capitol to rescue his sister from the sparrows. Maybe there was hope for him after all.

Bran had looked into how he had fallen; he knew that Ser Jaime had been the one to throw him from the tower after Bran had witnessed him with his twin sister. He could still remember the helplessness he had felt when he was falling through the air, trying to grasp at anything to stop his fall.

Bran could feel something wet on his hand, and as he looked down, he could see Summer´s amber eyes staring at him with concern as he nuzzled at Bran´s hand. Bran smiled at his faithful friend.

Bran was so glad that his foolishness hadn’t cost Summer his life, but Bran´s impatient nature had cost them far too much. It had cost the life of the gentle giant Hodor, Summer´s ear and the wolf had been scarred for life, on his side.

On Summer´s flank there were three long scars that would never again grow fur, but he was alive and there wasn’t a day that Bran didn’t thank the old gods for that.

Bran smiled at his oldest and dearest friend, a Stark without their direwolf, wasn’t whole. As he thought that, his thoughts were forced to his little brother, Rickon who had lost his companion, Shaggydog, the wildest one of the litter mates, black as night with startling green eyes.

But now he was gone, along with Lady and Greywind. That made Bran tear up again, the very thought of his brother´s direwolf, Greywind, made him think about Robb.

His fun-loving brother who should have been the lord of Winterfell and Jon´s Warden of the north. Their older brother who had gone south to save their father, only to have been murdered at a wedding.

The Frey´s would get what was coming for them, it was only a matter of time now until they would pay for their crimes.

A knock brought Bran out of his thoughts of vengeance against the Freys.

Meera went to the door and let the new lord commander in. Dolorous Edd entered the room in all his gloominess. If there was a word to describe this man, it was the word grey.

“Have you two written your letters?” the lord commander asked in his monotonous voice. Meera smiled at the man, she thought he was funny.

“Yes, we have.” She told him as she handed the lord commander their letters. Bran had also written a letter to Winterfell, he thought it was better for Sansa and Jon to have warning of that they were coming, but he had made sure to tell them that they shouldn’t wait with getting married for him.

Jon needed to go to the Barrowlands and dispose of Lady Dustin as soon as possible and then he needed to head south to the Riverlands. Every moment counted.

“We have an escort ready to leave tomorrow morning, if we are all still alive by then. With my luck we will be.” Eddison Tollet said as he took the letters, then he showed himself out.

“So, we are going to Winterfell tomorrow. I am so excited to finally get out of here.” Meera said with a happy smile on her face. Bran didn’t blame her; she missed her family and was probably sick of being in the company of only men.

“I am excited too, I can´t wait to see Sansa, Jon and Rickon again. I missed them so much.” Bran truly had thought of little else as they had made their way south to the wall, he just wanted to go home and see his family again, and soon he would see them again.

JON

Jon watched as the lords of the Vale stood back up after having sworn fealty to him, as the king of the seven kingdoms. It felt a little unreal having now two kingdoms sworn to him, but they needed to unite the kingdoms before the long night.

Now all they had to do was get rid of Littlefinger, convince the lords of the other five kingdoms and the Riverlands to follow him and survive the long night. Not to mention dispose of Cersei Lannister and make sure that Jon´s own aunt, Daenerys Targaryen didn’t come to Westeros intent on claiming the iron throne.

Jon was very worried about how Daenerys would take it when she found out that she didn’t have the best claim to the iron throne or that Rhaegal and Viserion were now with the person that had said better claim.

From what Jon had seen of her through Rhaegal´s eyes, she would not take it well when she heard that not only had they abandoned her, but had defected over to the trueborn son of her brother, and the fact that Jon had hatched dragon eggs as well.

Daenerys seemed to have taken the fact that she had hatched dragons back into the world made her more special and more worthy to rule than any other, and while Jon could understand why she would think that, it simply wasn’t true.

Having dragons didn’t give them automatic right to the throne or make you a better ruler. In fact, it meant that you had to be even more careful than before if you were claiming to be a monarch.

That had been made abundantly clear to Jon in the battle for Winterfell, or the day of the dragons, as the people were now calling it, that it would have been too easy for Jon to let Rhaegal and Viserion just burn all of the Bolton army and be done with it and Jon doubted that anyone would have said anything about it.

But it was a slippery slope for Jon to go down, Jon didn’t want to burn people alive, specially not common soldiers who most likely didn’t even have a choice in going to war in the first place.

But he had an immediate problem right now and that was Littlefinger, that man was as slippery as they came, and he would use every misstep Jon and Sansa took, to his advantage. But there were a few things that the man had going against him when it came too dealing with the lords of Westeros.

The fact that Littlefinger was from a minor house that didn’t have the rich history that many of the other house had, was enough for the lords of Westeros to look down their noses at him, was one of his most obvious disadvantages.

It wouldn’t surprise Jon if the lords of the Vale hadn’t already started working to dispose of him. The fact that the man also made some of his fortune on the back of prostitutes would also make the honorable knights of the Vale very uncomfortable.

But there was also the problem of Littlefinger paying of the debts of some of the houses of the Vale, like the Waynwoods and the Corbrays. That could make things difficult for Jon and Sansa moving forward. Jon was not so naïve to think that a few words spoken here in the great hall and made the lords of the Vale forever bond to him.

No, Jon had no doubt that even with the threat of the undead marching on the wall as they sat here and debated, that Littlefinger would try as he could to weasel himself into a position of power.

As the men stood back up, Jon noticed that Littlefinger tried his best at putting a charming smile on his face. “Perhaps your grace, we should bind the Vale and the north closer together by marriage?”

Ah, here it was, the moment Jon and Sansa had been waiting for. To be honest Jon had expected it to happen sooner than this, but it seemed that the man had been a little preoccupied with trying to undermine Jon in front of the lords.

“Correct me if I am wrong lord Baelish, but the Vale and the north are already bound by marriage, as the late lord Arryn and lord Eddard Stark were goodbrothers through their marriages to the Tully sisters.” Jon countered as he tried his best at keeping the smile under wraps. Jon had to admit he was enjoying this way too much, and as he glanced at Sansa, he could see it in her eyes that she was enjoying this as well. “Making the current lord Arryn a cousin to the current lord Stark.”

Jon could feel Sycorax move behind him as the blue dragon perched on the back of his chair, the blue and bronze dragon flapped his wings as he adjusted himself on his perch.

Littlefinger stepped closer to the high table and Jon could see Oberon and Umbriel fix their molten gazes on the shorter man, as did Ghost and Ice, it seemed that the dragons and direwolfs didn’t like the man getting to close.

The man hesitated as he stared in fear at the animals in front of him. Jon could see that Baelish had turned a little pale again and he seemed to want to be anywhere but here at the moment.

“Your grace, that is true, sure enough but perhaps in light of the recent circumstances it would be prudent to bid the two kingdoms closer together.” Littlefinger seemed to have a hard time keeping the slimy grin on his face.

“Closer than bonds of family and blood, lord Baelish?” Maege Mormont called, the short woman had her hands on her hips as she glared at the small, weaselly man. “A family bond that the late lady Arryn didn’t honor when her nephew, the king in the north needed it the most?”

This was followed the lords of the north angerly agreeing with the lady of Bear island, she was one of the few lords and ladies that had marched south with Robb and lived to tell the tale and not in a dungeon in the Riverlands.

The fury she was feeling was understandable, her eldest daughter and heir Dacey Mormont had died at the Red Wedding. The grief and pain were clear on her face as she stared down the small man.

The lord of Baelish-keep seemed to find his words after the lords quieted down a little. “No one is sorrier about that than I, my lady, but lady Arryn´s truest lords did urge her to send the knights of the Vale to King Robb´s aid, the lord of Runestone included.” Littlefinger gestured at Lord Royce as he spoke.

The lord of Runestone looked at the lady of Bear island with sadness in his eyes. “That is true, I did urge lady Lysa to send the knights of the Vale to the Riverlands to help King Robb´s cause, but she didn’t want to listen to reason.”

Maege Mormont looked at the man for a moment before she spoke again. “That is a nice sentiment, lord Royce and I appreciate you have tried to get the lady Arryn to send more men to the Riverlands to help the war on the Lannisters, but it will not bring back my daughter who died at the Red Wedding.”

At the words the hall was filled with silence, almost every northern lord in the hall had lost someone in the Red Wedding, and the pain would likely never stop haunting them. Jon could still feel the loss of his brother, Robb. Robb and he may not have been brothers by blood, but they were in every way it mattered.

The silence was broken by Baelish, trying his best to steer the conversation from the Red Wedding. “Your grace, a reinforced bond with the Vale, is only in the north´s benefit, especially now that you are going south to reclaim your birth right.” The glint was back in his eyes, and Jon had to resist the urge to punch him.

It was then when Sansa decided to speak. “What did you have in mind, lord Baelish?” She had a polite smile on her face that would fool almost anyone, but Jon wasn’t fooled, he could see that she was getting angrier and angrier by the moment.

No one in their right mind would blame her, this worm had caused them all so much pain so that he might benefit from it.

“Perhaps a marriage between yourself, my lady and Ser Harry Hardyng?” This made Jon raise an eyebrow, he had almost expected him to nominate himself to marry Sansa. But Jon could see why he didn’t, if Sansa married Hardyng and Robert Arryn died, that would make Sansa the lady of the Vale, but if Harry also died, whoever Sansa married would become the lord of the Vale, as Harry Hardyng was an only child.

So, it would be better for Littlefinger to have Sansa inherit the Vale before he would try to marry her himself. Or at least that would be how Jon would have done it, if he was a deplorable worm.

Jon could see that Ser Harry Hardyng was adjusting his clothing after the scare with the undead Ser Alliser Thorne. The man was still shaking after seeing proof of the dead returning but he was trying his hardest to hide it.

Jon had to force himself not to grin as he answered Baelish´s question. “I am afraid that is not possible.” Jon could see Ser Harry´s face fall, Ser Harry looked at Baelish and the distress was clear in his eyes. But Littlefinger´s face didn’t give anything away, but Jon could see the hate in his eyes as he glared at Jon.

“May I ask why your grace? It is a good match.” The man said with smug smile on his face. Jon could feel Sansa sit up even straighter in her chair, and he could feel the tension radiate of her.

Jon raised an eyebrow as he reached out his hand and took Sansa´s small one into his. “Because lord Baelish, lady Sansa has promised herself to me.” The Valelords looked like they had been knocked on the head with a mace, it seemed like they hadn’t thought that Jon and Sansa would be announcing their impending marriage.

Baelish´s eyes were now the size of dinner plates, he seemed like he was at a loss of words at the moment, much to Jon´s amusement.

Sansa glanced at Jon and gave him a smile, and he could feel his heart start racing in his chest.

“A good match indeed.” Called the Flint cheerfully, making the northern lords and the freefolk start wolf whistling and cheering.

“Unlike the match you forced me into with Ramsay Snow, lord Baelish” Sansa asked in a cold voice, her face had the same emotionless expression that her father had always had on his face when he was speaking with the lords.

This cause a quick turn in the atmosphere of the great hall, as all the lords and ladies stood up and started to shout at Littlefinger. The formally cheerful leader of the Flints of the mountain clans, tried to rush over to Littlefinger and most likely to throttle the man, but he was held back by his son and the Wull. “HOW DARE YOU SELL NED STARK´S LITTLE GIRL TO THAT MONSTER!”

The Flint managed to drag his son and the Wull a couple of steps, the Flint heir and the Wull were both big men and Jon couldn’t help but to be a little impressed by his strength.

But this was getting out of hand. “Please everyone, sit down.” Every person in the hall turned to him when he spoke and did as he bid them.

As the lords and the ladies sat back down, Jon turned to Littlefinger and waited for his response to Sansa question. Jon could see that the smaller man was now very nervous and that he was starting to sweat.

Jon didn’t envy him, it must be hard to be put on the spot and be asked why he had sold the daughter of Eddard Stark to the family of the people who had betrayed her brother, the king in the north, in front of the people who declared said brother as their king.

Littlefinger cleared his throat. “I didn’t know what he was. I made a mistake.” If Jon didn’t know better, he would have thought that his voice was shaking from fear. All the lords were staring at Baelish with hate and anger, it was clear that they didn’t believe his lies.

So, you are telling me.” Sansa started. “That you didn’t know that the bastard son of the man who stabbed my brother in the heart, was a monster?” Out of the corner of his eye, Jon could see Ice bare her teeth at Littlefinger in her anger.

He could see the lord of Runestone was turning red with anger, he was staring at the smaller man with such fury that Jon was getting concerned.

“You told us that you were going to take her to the fingers, and that you had been set upon by a large Bolton force, and that she had been kidnapped.” Lord Royce exclaimed and he grabbed the hilt of his sword, he stopped short of drawing it out of its sheath. That was interesting to know, Jon doubted that Littlefinger could have told the lords of the Vale that he had taken Sansa Stark to the north while the Bolton´s had ruled it, when so many of the Vale lords knew and loved her father.

Lord Royce would never have let Sansa go to Winterfell when Roose and his bastard where ruling the north. The Bronze Yohn loved Eddard Stark too much, to let his daughter suffer at the hands of the family that had betrayed her brother.

Jon looked from the Bronze Yohn to Littlefinger. “If you didn’t know that Ramsay Snow was a monster, why did you lie to lord Royce?” This was the problem with lying to everyone to get what you wanted in life. You never knew when your lies clashed and people who had been told different things met and started to compare what they had been told.

Littlefinger took yet another step to the high table. “Sansa-.” He was interrupted by Oberon shrieking at him, the pale green dragon bared his black teeth at the man in warning. Baelish jumped back in fright of the dragon and his eyes were wide as he almost tripped over the hem of his clothing in his rush to get away from the dragon.

Jon leaned on his elbows on the table. “Why did you tell lord Royce that lady Sansa was kidnapped, when you had escorted her to Winterfell and left her here with Roose Bolton and his bastard?”

Every soul in the hall waited for Baelish´s answer. “I told everyone that lady Sansa disappeared so that the Lannisters wouldn’t find out where she was.” Jon had to admit, he was impressed by his fast thinking. At a first thought it was a good lie, but when one started to think, it didn’t hold water.

“So, you are telling me,” Jon started. “That you didn’t tell lord Royce, who did fight for lady Lysa Arryn to send the knights of the Vale to help king Robb in his war against the Lannisters, that you were sending king Robb´s sister to the man that betrayed his king to the Lannisters, so that she would have to marry his bastard son, just to stay alive.”

The tension in the hall could be cut with a knife, all the northern lords were slowly reaching for the hilts of their weapons. He was sure that if this kept on going the way it was, Baelish wouldn’t live through the night.

“Your grace, my lady.” Littlefinger hurriedly said. “I admit that I made a mistake, I didn’t know that Ramsay was the monster that he turned out to be, and I should have trusted lord Royce with your safety, but I didn’t and I will never forgive myself for that.” Jon could feel nothing but disgust as the man started his groveling, but Jon had to set an example, he couldn’t let people just lie to him with impunity.

No, the weasel had to be punished, he had sent Sansa north to Winterfell to marry the monster of Bolton, most likely to silence her until he came back to take her from the Boltons and try to make her think that he was some sort of hero for rescuing her.

“Tell me lord Baelish,” Jon was now curious on how the man would try to get out of this mess. “Do you know a Janos Slynt?”

If the man had been pale before, it was nothing compared to how white he was turning now. Jon watched as the man opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before finally finding his voice.

“He was the captain of the gold cloaks in the capitol until he was sent to take the black for taking bribes I believe.”

Jon was sure that Littlefinger was by now trying his hardest not to lie, as it wouldn’t look very good for him with the lords. Jon could spy Ser Harry and Ser Lyn trying to physically distance themselves from the smaller man as the interrogation went on.

It was clear that they didn’t want to be on Baelish´s sinking ship any longer than they had to.

Jon continued. “He was, now he told me the most curious tale.”

He fell silent for a moment for effect before he continued. “He told me that you bribed him to betray lord Eddard Stark to Cersei Lannister, and that you held the knife to lord Stark´s throat yourself.”

The silence that filled the hall was so deafening that he was sure that no one was breathing. It was Littlefinger that broke the silence.

“He was lying, I swear to old gods and new, that Slynt was lying.” The man was starting to speak much louder, and that he was borderline shouting at them.

“Lying is your specialty lord Baelish.” Sansa spoke with her cold and unyielding voice. The lords in the room seemed to have gotten over the shock that Littlefinger had been the one to betray Ned Stark, as they started to shout and yell at the small man in the center of the room.

“Just like when you lied to Lysa Arryn that if she poisoned her husband the late Jon Arryn with the tears of Lys, the two of you would be together.” Jon had never seen so many shocked faces gathered under one roof before.

To was clear in Baelish´s eye that he didn’t believe what was happening at this moment. All of his plans were going up in smoke in front of his eyes, and when he tried to claim that it wasn’t true what they were accusing him of, no one believed him because he had been caught lying so many times before.

“YOUR GRACE.” Everyone in the hall turned to lord Redfort as he shouted for attention. “Please your grace, I believe we have heard enough, this man didn’t only betray Lord Eddard Stark, one of the most honorable men in the seven kingdoms, he also sold lord Stark eldest daughter to the bastard son of the man, that murdered her brother and convinced Lady Arryn to murder her husband. I think that I speak for all of us here that he needs to die.”

Jon watched as the lords of the north started shouting their agreements, Lord Royce and Ser Morton were shouting along with them that they wanted Littlefinger to die. Jon could see Ser Harry look at Baelish with disgust, but Ser Lyn was just standing there, completely still, like he was trying not to be noticed.

Jon lifted his hand for silence, all the hall fell quiet and for a few moments it was as quiet as the crypts beneath Winterfell.

“Satin.” He called to his steward, that had been hiding close by incase Jon or Sansa had need of him.

“Yes, your grace?” the young man´s lovely voice answered.

Jon stared into the grey-green eyes of the man that had sold Sansa to Ramsay Snow for his own gain.

“Fetch me a block.” 

Chapter Text

SANSA

She watched as Baelish was dragged away by lord Royce and the Flint of the mountain clans, the small man was screaming and crying, trying to convince her to tell them to let him go.

As they left the hall with the man, to take him to the courtyard, she could hear her name being shouted by him, begging her to help him.

Jon stood up and started out the great hall, making everyone follow him. His face was stoic, and his eyes cut like the swords that he had strapped to his waist. The four young dragons also followed the king of the seven kingdoms, not wanting to be left alone in the great hall.

As she followed her betrothed with Rickon and Shireen by her side, she felt the anxiety start to mount in her belly. She kept waiting for Baelish to pull out another trick from his sleeve and escape his execution.

As soon as they made it into the sunny courtyard, the four young dragons took to the sky and flew high over their heads, shrieking and roaring as they went.

They looked beautiful as the sun shone on their scales, it was like their bodies were made of precious stones as they flew above them.

Sansa looked back to the ground, she could spy Satin running up to them with a chopping block in his hands and he placed it in front of where The Flint and the lord of Runestone were holding the little man that Jon was going to execute.

The two big men forced Baelish to his knees in the dirt of the courtyard and in front of the wooden block as Jon drew one of his valyrian steel swords from its sheath, Longclaw. That was what he called this sword; it had been given to him when he had saved Jeor Mormont from one of the dead men some time ago.

The fear in Baelish´s eyes was something that Sansa hadn’t seen before this day, he had always had the smug glint in his eyes, like there was a joke being told that only he was in on and he was the only one that was smart enough to understand it.

But no more, now his eyes only held the fear of the valyrian steel sword that had been drawn out of its sheath in front of him and the man that was wielding it.

Jon stood in front of the man. “For the crimes of betraying lord Eddard Stark, conspiring to murder lord Jon Arryn and handing Lady Sansa Stark to her enemies, I Jon of house Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Roynar and the First men, lord of the seven kingdoms, protector of the realm and defender of the faith, hereby sentence you to die. If you have any last words, I shall hear them now.”

But Baelish wasn’t looking at the king, he was staring at her with tears in his eyes. “Please Sansa, please I love you, all I have done is for you, please don’t let them do this to me.”

As the man sniveled on the ground, begging them to have mercy on him, when he had none for them, she could feel a small hand wrap itself around her fingers.

She could see Rickon take her hand in his, as he stared at the man in front of him, but there was no fear in his eyes, there was a hardness in them that looked out of place on such a young face.

Shireen was standing close to her on her other side doing her best at showing no emotion about what was happening.

Baelish was still begging for his life, as his head was forced on the block. Jon lifted his sword and as the sword fell on Littlefinger´s neck, the small man was still begging for his life.

The blood streamed out of his neck like a red river as his head rolled off his shoulders, and Petyr Baelish´s grey-green eyes stared unseeingly up to the blue sky.

Sansa felt a weight lift of her shoulders seeing the man die at the hand of her betrothed. She felt a hand on her shoulder as she watched Jon wipe of his sword. She looked behind her and saw her friend and protector, Ser Brienne of Tarth.

“Are you alright my lady?” Sansa smiled at her friend when Brienne asked her if she was alright.

“Yes, I am.” For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t worried that Littlefinger was going to start some convoluted plan to get his hands on her and the north.

Jon approached them as he sheathed Longclaw, as two guard took the body of Petyr Baelish and another took the severed head.

Jon looked at Rickon and Shireen. “You did well, both of you.” Rickon beamed at Jon, he looked so proud for getting praise from Jon that he seemed to grow in size, and Shireen smiled at Jon as well with pride in her eyes.

Sansa could see that the lords in the courtyard were starting to disperse, but there were some that were trying to listen in on the conversation that Jon was having with his cousins but trying not to let it show.

Like lords Royce and Redfort were with the lords of the north and they were all trying their hardest not to let them notice that they were watching the king interacting with his family.

“But do you know why I had to do it?” Jon´s deep voice brought her back to the conversation.  Rickon shook his head, but Shireen frowned. “It is a first men custom?” She half stated and half asked.

“Aye,” Jon answered. “Our way is the old way and we believe that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword, and if you cannot look a man in the eye and hear his last words, perhaps then that man does not deserve to die. Do you understand?”

Rickon nodded with a serious look on his face, but Shireen frowned and looked like she was going to ask something but was conflicted.

Jon smiled at her. “Shireen, I know that the Baratheon´s of Storm´s End don’t keep to the old ways,” He put his hand on her shoulder in an almost fatherly way. “But when you take up the mantle of lady of Strom´s End and the lady paramount of the Stormlands, you will have to deal with these situations as well, and you will owe it to the people that you will sit in judgment of, to look them in the eye as you sentence them to their fate.”

Sansa looked at her future husband and she felt such pride in him that it felt like her heart would burst. No other man that she had been promised to, had such way of thinking like Jon. Joffrey had been a selfish little prat that only thought of himself, Loras Tyrell was a spoiled young man that only wanted to knock men of their horses and then bed them afterward, or that was what the rumors said.

Tyrion had come the closest; he was a decent man and very smart. She knew that Littlefinger had been weary of the imp of Lannister, until Baelish had lost his head a moment ago. But Tyrion wouldn’t have upheld the first men tradition of swinging the sword himself, even though he was capable. But he had been raised in such a way that he didn’t do things himself if he couldn’t throw a pouch of gold at someone to do it for him, especially if they involved killing.

Ser Harry Hardyng was another spoiled little boy that only wanted to knock men of their horses in tourneys, and the less said about Ramsay Snow, the better.

She could see that the lords had heard what Jon had said to Rickon and Shireen, and they were clearly happy with their king and how he was teaching his cousins.

Shireen looked thoughtful as she contemplated his words, but Sansa could see it in her eyes that his words resonated with the younger girl.

Jon then took his leave of them was he retreated to the godswood, like her father had always done after having carried out justice.

“Can I go with him Sansa?” Rickon asked while still holding her hand. She looked into his eyes, and she could see that he really wanted to go, but Sansa was sure that Jon needed a little time alone.

“Rickon, you and Shireen need to go to your lessons with maester Wolkan.” Rickon pouted in displeasure but nodded non the less.

As she watched Shireen lead Rickon away to the maester for their lessons, Sansa when on with Satin to find rooms for the visiting lords.

JON

He didn’t know how long he sat in front on the pool in the godswood, just cleaning Longclaw. He didn’t feel guilty or bad for killing Littlefinger, he had committed so many crimes that it was time for him to be stopped, and Jon knew that killing the man was the only way to do so.

That man would have never stop trying to get his hands-on Sansa, no matter what happened, Littlefinger had been obsessed with Catelyn Stark and after she died, he must have transferred that obsession over to Sansa, or maybe even sooner.

Sansa thought that he had grown obsessed with her after Catelyn Stark died, but Jon wasn’t so sure, there was something that kept nagging him that Baelish had started becoming obsessed with Sansa before lady Stark had died, but it didn’t really matter now anymore, the man was dead.

He heard a shriek from one of the young dragons as they played in the air above him, their colorful scaled bodies reflected the sunlight beautifully in the high afternoon sun.

He started up at them for some time, just admiring them as they flew above the godswood. Then he heard the sounds of footsteps as someone walked over to him as he sat there cleaning the blood of his sword.

He looked over and saw the captain of his guards, Edric Strong, standing there waiting for Jon to be done. Jon stood up and sheathed Longclaw as he walked over to the man.

“Your grace, we have disposed of the body, we burned it as you requested that we should do to all the bodies.” Edric ran his hand through his ink black hair.

“Good, thank you Edric, I appreciate your hard work.” The man smiled proudly, it was a big thing being thanked by a king, and Jon made sure that he thanked his men when it was appropriate, and when they did a good job.

They started out the godswood. “So, are the men ready to move south to the Barrowlands?” Jon asked as they walked.

Edric nodded. “Yes, your grace we will leave Winterfell fully garrisoned as per your request, with only trusted men.” Jon nodded his head.

They spoke for some time before they went their separate ways, Jon decided to head to his solar, as he entered the room, he spotted Ghost lying on his side in front of the fire, clearly enjoying himself.

Jon sat down in his chair and let out a sigh as he took of his crown and placed it on top of the book that was resting on the table beside him. “Your grace,” Jon looked up and saw Satin was standing there and holding out a cup of ale in his hand. “Here you go, you look like you need it.”

Jon smiled at him. “Thank you, I do need it.” He took the cup and drank from it; the ale was smooth and much better than the swill he was used to at the wall.

“Your grace, lord Royce asked to talk to you when you have the time.” Jon looked back to Satin, what could the lord of Runestone want to talk about? But he nodded anyway.

Satin rushed out of the room, to fetch lord Royce, as Jon waited in his chair. Jon was glad he didn’t have to wait for long, he wasn’t in the mood to entertain lords after the day he had. Not that Jon was ever in the mood to entertain highborn guests, besides his family.

His steward entered the solar again but this time he was followed by the lord of Runestone. Satin gestured for the older man to take a seat in the chair opposite Jon, then he offered the man a cup of ale, which the man took gratefully.

Jon remembered when the man had come to Winterfell to escort his third born son to the wall, so that he could take the black. Jon also remembered that lord Royce had like the taste of northern ale, in small quantities.

“What can I do for you, lord Royce?” Jon asked after a short silence.

The older man cleared his throat. “Your grace, I have heard that you intend to go to the Barrowlands and root out Lady Dustin, and after that you are going to the Riverlands to dispense justice and restore the Tully´s to Riverrun.”

Jon nodded silently, confirming the man’s words.

“Am I correct in assuming that you will be taking the knights of the Vale with you?” Jon almost smiled at the man. He did indeed intend to take the knights of the Vale with him to the Riverlands, for he had no intention of leaving them here when he was in the south.

Lord Stark had once told him and Robb, that you found your true friends in the battlefield, and while Jon didn’t really trust his uncle´s judgement when it came to his friends, his words did ring true in Jon´s experience.

So, it was time to make some friends.

“Aye, I indeed intend to take the knights of the Vale with me south.” Jon watched as the man nodded at him.

“I am glad your grace, it is an honor to help you liberate the Riverlands from the Lannisters and the Freys.” Jon had a feeling that this wasn’t the reason that the man had come to see him now. Jon watched as the man was trying to gather up his courage to say what he wanted.

“Your grace,” The man spoke after some deliberation. “I think that Littlefinger had intentions of killing lord Arryn.” Jon raised an eyebrow at that, it was a very real possibility that Baelish had intended to kill young lord Robert Arryn, but as the man was dead there wasn’t a lot the whoremonger could do now.

“What makes you think that?” Jon was curious why the lord of Runestone had drawn that conclusion, maybe he had known something that Jon didn’t.

“It was because he wanted to betroth lady Sansa to Ser Harry.” The Bronze Yohn nursed his cup of ale as he spoke. “I think that Baelish was obsessed with lady Sansa and I think that it is suspicious that he suddenly wanted her to marry Ser Harry, and lord Arryn has always been a sickly boy and no one would have been shocked if he would develop a sickness and die, making Ser Harry the lord of the Vale.”

Jon rubbed his beard covered chin. “Why are you telling me now?”

Jon could see the worry in the older man´s eyes. “The maester that always took care of lord Arryn, is one of Littlefinger´s creatures, or so I think, and he went with lord Arryn when we left the Vale, to foster with lady Anya Waynwood.” Lord Royce cleared his throat. “I fear that Littlefinger may have left orders with the maester that if he should not return to the Vale, that he should kill young Robert.”

Jon had to admit, Baelish did strike him as that sort of man, that would make his lackies kill young children if something went wrong, it was his method of operation, to sow as much chaos and discontent as possible.

Jon was now getting concerned, he didn’t want the young lord of the Eyrie getting killed, but he couldn’t send a large delegation to the Vale when he was marching of the Riverlands soon to fight the Lannisters.

He also didn’t want to send lord Royce or Ser Brynden as they were two of the most experienced men, and Ser Brynden had fought in the Riverlands with Robb and would know the Riverlords well, and they respected him. Lord Royce and his men were also out of the question, as they were experienced and not battle weary.

Then an idea struck him. “Lord Royce, would you be willing to write lady Waynwood an letter stating your concerns about lord Arryn and the maester?”

Lord Royce nodded eagerly. “Yes, of course your grace.”

“Good, we can send a small delegation with Ser Morton Waynwood, and have him deliver the letter, I think that Lady Waynwood would believe the news if they come from her own son.”

The lord of Runestone smiled at him. “Thank you, your grace. I know that I may not have much to go on and I hope that I am wrong but lord Arryn´s life may be at stake.”

The lord of Runestone seemed to have an inner debate with himself for a moment. “Your grace, I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

Jon nodded his consent and waited for lord Royce to ask his question. “My son, Waymar. He went to the night´s watch to take the black, and sometime ago we got a letter stating that he was lost beyond the wall.” Yes, lord Royce would naturally have questions of his son´s fate after seeing the dead Ser Alliser Thorne.

“I was wondering if he had been turned to one of those things?” Jon could see fear in the older man´s eyes as he asked the dreaded question. It was something no parent should have to fear, if their child was coming back to fight on the side of the dead.

Jon cleared his throat before he spoke. “Ser Waymar disappeared a little before I arrived. But Lord Stark did execute one of his companions for desertion after Ser Waymar disappeared. That man told us that they had been attacked by an Other and that your son fought them bravely, but they were outnumbered. It is most likely that Ser Waymar was turned.”

Jon didn’t want to tell a man that his son had been killed and made into a living corpse, but he couldn’t lie to him either. Lord Royce had a right to know the truth about how his son died, and while Jon may have embellished the truth of how the man his uncle had executed, had told them that lord Royce´s son had fought bravely, Jon couldn’t really see the harm in lord Royce hearing that.

The grief in lord Royce´s eyes made them shine like polished steel. “Thank you for telling me, your grace. I needed to know.”

There was a knock on the door before Jon could say anything, and Satin who had been working behind Jon´s chair, rushed to see who it was.

“Lord Royce, what a surprise.” Jon heard Sansa´s voice as she entered the room. Both Jon and lord Royce stood up from their chairs, as was proper when a lady entered the room. Just by entering a room, Sansa made the atmosphere brighter, and the overwhelming sense of grief was lessened.

Jon offered her a seat in the chair beside him, which she gratefully took, as she must have been on her feet the entre time after Jon had taken his leave.

“We are so happy to host you and the other Vale lords, lord Royce.” Satin walked up to Sansa and offered her a mug of ale. She smiled at the young man as she took hold of her mug. “I am just sorry for the grim reception.”

But lord Royce just smiled kindly. “There is nothing to be sorry about my lady, I am just glad that Baelish in no longer here to torment us with his blatant power grabbing.”

Sansa smiled at his words. “I agree, I am just sorry that so many had to die for his ambitions.” Lord Royce told her what he and Jon had discussed about Littlefinger and lord Royce´s fear of Robert Arryn being in danger.

At this news, Sansa frowned. “I agree, I think we need to get this maester away from lord Arryn, just to be sure. We can’t take any chances with his life.”

They talked with lord Royce for some time, before the older man excused himself.

Jon and Sansa sat in silence, before Jon asked her. “Do you think he is right? Do you think that Baelish ordered the maester to kill lord Arryn if he didn’t return?”

Sansa looked worried. “I don’t know, but I am not willing to gamble with his life.” Jon nodded, she knew Littlefinger better than him, and if she thought that it was a possibility, that he would take it seriously. He trusted her judgment and he found himself always hoping to hear what she thought on all matters.

Jon looked her over, to him she seemed like there was a weight lifted of her shoulder, and she seemed a lot happier.

She was holding her mug with both of her small hands, and she was smiling softly into the mug, like it was telling her something funny.

“Are you alright?” He asked with a smile tugging at his lips. Sansa looked at him in surprise.

“Yes, of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Her blue eyes were wide as she asked.

“You are smiling into your ale like it is the funniest thing in the world.” Sansa rolled her eyes and gave him a little push on the shoulder.

“Shut up.” She said as a smile spread of its own will, across her face, as Jon just laughed.

They sat there in silence for a while before Jon asked. “But how are you, really?” He studied her face, trying to find any trace of any discomfort. Sansa had told him that she had been made to watch her father get beheaded, and he didn’t want her to have to relive that trauma.

He had been afraid that watching him behead Baelish would have brought back memories of when Joffrey ordered lord Eddard, beheaded and that she would start associating him with Joffrey. But he couldn’t ask her to stay behind in the great hall.

Jon didn’t want to disrespect her like that, and Sansa would know if she couldn’t handle something and would behave accordingly, or so he hoped.

Sansa smile a little and reached over and took his hand into her small one. “I am fine Jon; I am just glad that it is over now and Littlefinger is dead.”

It was enough to dispel any worry that he might had that Sansa saw him as another Joffrey, and he felt relief flood throw his body like ale after a long night on the wall.

ARYA

She had intended to arrive at the Saltpans, but after the war of the five kings, she couldn’t find a Braavosi captain to land there, so she settled for Maidenpool.

The town was walled with pink stone and on the east side there where hills with soldier pines growing tall, and the castle of Maidenpool and the seat of house Moonton, was on a hill on the other end of the small harbor town.

As she took her first step back on dry land, she looked about her and watched the people of the busy harbor bustle about with their wares. The seagulls added to the noise as they flew overhead, while trying their best to grab something from the ground to eat.

She could hear the faint call of a young girl selling clams, and it brought a small smile to her lips.

Arya remembered being that girl, or someone like her. Maybe one day she would be her again, but not today.

Today, she was Arya Stark of Winterfell, and she was on a mission.

Arya Stark had to avenge her brother and her mother. The Freys, Lannisters and the Boltons would pay with their blood for what they had done to her family. She would start with the Freys as they were the closest, then she would go to king´s landing and kill Cersei and her family. After that she would be traveling north to her home of Winterfell to kill Roose Bolton and his bastard.

But first she would have to buy a horse and supplies for the trip. Money wasn’t an issue, not for her, not anymore.

The faceless men had taught her many things, making sure that you had enough coin to do your business was one of them.

Arya walked around and found an inn, that would be a good place to start. She wanted to hear news from Westeros before she began on her journey, and there was no place better to gather intel then an inn.

Arya entered the noise inn and sat at one of the tables. She waved the innkeeper over to order some food and ale.

The inn wasn’t as crowded as she had feared, too many people created too much noise, and then it would be harder for Arya to overhear what they were gossiping about. The innkeeper brought forth good brown ale and mincemeat pie that smelled heavenly after the long sea voyage.

As she ate, she listened to the talks around her.

The two farmers behind her spoke how the Kingslayer had taken Riverrun and had now given it to his aunt Genna Lannister and her Frey husband. As the men said the name Lannister, one of them spat on the ground in anger while the other frowned. The Lannisters didn’t have many admirers in this part of the world.

Then again, Arya doubted that there were many places that the Lannisters were liked, even Lannisters didn’t like other Lannisters if the rumors of Tyrion Lannisters killing his own father and nephew with Sansa´s help were to be believed.

But the two men seemed a little merrier when they spoke of Ser Brynden, Arya´s granduncle´s escape from the castle.

There were three guards in Moonton colors in front of Arya, speaking quietly about the happenings in the capitol. Arya had to stop herself from laughing when she heard that Cersei had been arrested by the faith militant and made to walk naked through the streets.

Normally Arya wouldn’t have wished that fate on anyone, but Cersei was a special case. That harpy had ordered Lady killed, when she full well knew that she hadn’t done anything, and she had stood by when her monstrous son had ordered Arya´s father killed.

When Arya closed her eyes, she could still hear her sisters screams as they chopped of their father’s head with his own sword.

But it was the conversation between two of the servant girls that Arya was the most interested in.

“Did you hear? Apparently, there is a new king being crowned in the north.” Wait what? A new northern king? But all of her brothers but Jon where dead, and he was a bastard in the nights watch.

The girl or rather young woman, that spoke was pretty enough, but she had large crocked front teeth that made her a little hard on the eyes.

The other girl was younger, and wild orange hair. “But I thought the Starks were all dead, Bryn told me so.”

The older girl with the large teeth started to wipe of the table as she answered. “Apparently this one isn’t a Stark.” She said with a grin, and there was a twinkle in her eye. She was clearly enjoying the fact that she knew something that the other didn’t.

“What do you mean? I though your northern…friend, said that the northerners only follow Starks?” When she said the word friend, it was clear that she meant something else.

The older girl stopped wiping the table and took two empty cups of the table and walked over to the counter, but Arya could still hear them. “Normally, yes but this one is half a Stark.”

By now Arya wasn’t the only one listening in on the conversation, almost everyone in the inn were watching them.

The younger girl opened her mouth to say something, but she was interrupted by one of the guards. “Oy, I heard about the new king,” That made everyone look at the man and he seemed a little exited at being the center of attention.

“My friend from White harbor, one of the sailors of the Winterqueen, saw him with his own eyes, riding through the streets with the lady of Winterfell, Sansa Stark.” As the man grinned, Arya could see that his teeth were brown and were starting to rot. 

Arya felt her heart leap to her throat, Sansa was alive and in White harbor. Arya had never been this interested in a conversation between people she didn’t know.

The older servant girl nodded fiercely. “I heard that too, apparently lord Stark´s bastard wasn’t a bastard at all, but Rhaegar Targaryen´s trueborn son with the Stark girl.”

Arya´s mind stopped working for a moment and she felt her insides freeze at the girl’s words. Where they saying that Jon wasn’t her brother? He was the only possible candidate, but he was a sworn brother of the night´s watch, he couldn’t have been crowned king.

But the man spoke up again. “I heard that he had four dragons that he hatched with blood magic.” This made the people start muttering to themselves.

“All the dragons are dead.” The innkeeper said gruffly as he wiped a mug with a rag.

“My friend saw them with his own eyes, I swear. As the king and lady Stark were marching out of White harbor to reclaim Winterfell, they were flying overhead.” The guard said passionately.

The older servant girl spoke up. “I heard that too, I heard that the new king had four dragons and a direwolf, white as snow and as large as a horse. Just like the king in the north had.”

Arya stared at the girl, Robb´s direwolf had been famous in the Riverlands as he had gone with Robb into battle, but Ghost wasn’t well known, and as far as she knew, only few people knew that Jon had a white direwolf.

Could they be telling the truth? Was Jon really the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark? before today she would have laughed at these people for thinking that Jon was a secret prince, but the girl had known the color of Jon´s direwolf, so maybe there was a grain of truth in these rumors.

She would have to find out, but first she would have to make her way to the Twins, she had business with Old Walder Frey and his get.

Chapter Text

SANSA

The great hall was filled with lords from all over the north, and now that the last of the lords had arrived, they could begin handing out sentences over those that had declared for Ramsay Snow.

She was very nervous if she had to be honest, it wasn’t that she thought that Jon would let Ramsay and his lackies walk out of Winterfell.  She just didn’t want to be anywhere near the monster.

She glanced at Jon who was sitting beside her, in his now customary black and red northern leathers, with the crown of Aegon the conqueror nestled among the dark curls of his hair.

He looked every inch of a king, sitting there with that crown on his head and with that stern look in his face.

The two other kings she had known had always been decked out in jewelry and gold and had more perfume on their person than a cheap prostitute. But Jon had no perfume and the only thing that could be called jewelry was the crown on his head.

His clothes were finely made, but that was only because Sansa herself and Satin made sure that Jon didn’t know where his old night´s watch leathers were located, otherwise he would be strutting around in them. Sansa had asked Satin to make them disappear into one of the fires that had burned after the battle for Winterfell, and Jon´s steward had happily complied with her wishes.

Satin would go with Jon south, to squire for him before battle. Not that Jon really needed a squire, as he liked to do everything he could for himself and as much Sansa would have liked to have Satin here, helping her with Winterfell, as he had come an indispensable part of the household they were establishing, she wanted someone with Jon that she knew they could trust.

And Satin had been with Jon since the battle for the wall, and Jon had told her that he had fought bravely. So, she was sure that Satin would do his very best and protect Jon if it came to it.

Another person that was also quickly coming indispensable was her great uncle Brynden, who was also marching with Jon south.

But there was something that weighted heavily on her mind, and that was Jon´s lack of king´s guard. While Ghost and the dragons were doing a good job keeping him safe, he needed more protection.

She heard Jon knock an empty cup on the table to get the lords to be quiet. “Lady Karstark, lord Umber.” Jon called, and the two youngsters walked nervously forward.

Ned Umber was tall for his age of eleven-years old with brown hair that was common in the north. But it was plain for all to see that he was very nervous about the proceedings. Alys Karstark had the brown hair and grey eyes of the Starks like most of her family and Sansa couldn’t help but to be reminded a little of Arya, as she watched the girl.

Both of them knelt and said their words of fealty, and as they stood up again, Jon spoke. “Lord Umber, Lady Karstark, you are hereby accepted into the king´s peace.”

Jon had talked to Ned Umber and Alys Karstark when they arrived in Winterfell and told them that they would not be punished for the crimes of their family members, but if they wanted to continue to rule their ancestral lands they would be expected to declare for Jon and marry people of his choosing.

They had been very quick to accept.

Jon gestured them to take their seats, then he spoke again. “Thanks to lord Manderly´s hard work and Ser Davos, we have taken Dragonstone and Ser Davos has already started mining for dragonglass.” This statement was met with cheers from all over the room.

They would soon be making weapons of the material and they could then send it north to the wall, to arm the men of the night´s watch.

When she had heard that news from lord Manderly when he arrived, she had felt such relief that it rivaled the emotion that she had felt when she had seen both Littlefinger and Joffrey die.

“My lords,” Jon spoke again. “Tomorrow night, lady Sansa and I will say our vows in front of the Weirwood and become husband and wife. It is our hope that you will all be there to witness our marriage before the old gods.”

Sansa was sure that the roof would be blown of the great hall by the way the lords were cheering.

For the first time in a long time, she was actually looking forward to a wedding. She glanced at her future husband, and she could see that he was smiling slightly and there was a happy twinkle in his eyes.

Jon didn’t usually smile in front of the lords, and such a small smile on Jon´s face was like a full-blown grin on any other man.

Sansa loved watching him smile, it was a rare sight and it always made her so happy, seeing him happy.

But she dragged herself out of her thoughts, she couldn’t be distracted now, they had work to do. “Thank you, my lords, and ladies, but there are a few things that we would like to discuss with you before we adjourn today.” Sansa said with a smile on her face.

All the people in the hall looked to her and waited for her to continue. “As you all know, the next few years will most likely be hard for the north, as we have been in war in the Riverlands, and now the long night approaches.”

She stared at the grim faces before her before she continued. “I would like to urge those lords who can to build glasshouses to do so, as we need all the food we can get.”

Sansa knew that not all the northern houses could afford the glasshouses, but she had a plan. “If you cannot afford them yourselves, please let us know. We may be able to figure something out; the survival of our people is the most important thing to house Stark and our king.” The lords nodded in approval of her words.

But Sansa wasn’t done. “The north has many resources that we can use, and we have to stand together now if we are to survive the long night.”

Her words seemed to resonate with the lords as they were looking happy that She and Jon were trying to look out for them and their people.

Then Jon spoke again. “Thank you, lady Sansa,” Jon sent her a smile, which made her cheeks start to get hotter. “We also have opportunities in the East, in Essos there is a shortage of wood, which we have in abundance and can sell to help to pay for the glasshouses if we need.” Jon stated as he leaned a little forward on his elbows.

This news seemed to make the lords excided, this would go a long way for them to pay for the glasshouses that they so desperately needed.

“Now,” Jon spoke again, turning very serious. “It is time to bring in the prisoners.” As soon he had spoken those words, the guards escorted them in, Smalljon Umber, lord Ryswell and his three sons, Roger, Rickard and Roose. Lord Ryswell´s sons were all the very image of their father, tall but stocky and very small ears and there was that fowl look on their faces, like they smelled something rotting. But there was fear in their eyes as well, a fear of what was to come.

Sansa glanced at Jon, when he had told her that he didn’t want Ramsay in the great hall to attend the sentencing, she had been surprised, but relieved.

“My lords,” Jon´s deep voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “After some deliberation, lady Stark and I have decided to give you a choice, execution or the wall.”

The hall was quiet as the prisoners stared at Jon. Then Smalljon stepped forward with resignation clear in his eyes and spoke. “I choose the Wall.” As the large man said those words, lord Ryswell bristled with anger.

“Coward.” He shouted and the spittle flew out of his mouth. “Your father wouldn’t flinch at some Targaryen pretender´s sword, I doubt that this bastard even had the guts to swing the sword himself.”

The Smalljon´s face turned red with anger at the older man´s words and he lurched forward to try to defend his own honor, but he was held back by Jon´s men and Stark men. The lords in the hall were all clearly angry at the insult that was being thrown their king´s way.

“Enough.” Jon demanded sharply. “Smalljon Umber is many things, but a coward is not one of them.” He was right, Sansa had seen Smalljon in the battle for Winterfell, and it had taken the threat of Viserion, flying overhead and roaring, and threating to burn him, to stop him from charging.

Jon turned to his guards. “Get Smalljon Umber ready to leave for the wall. He leaves tomorrow along with those that prefer the watch over the sword.”

Now every eye turned to lord Ryswell´s sons, Sansa could see that they were trying to be brave, but the choice before them was obvious, while life at the wall was a hard one, at least it was a life.

The three sons of lord Ryswell decided on taking the black with Smalljon Umber, but the older man wanted the sword.

While Smalljon and the sons of lord Ryswell were escorted back to the dungeons, lord Ryswell was dragged outside, and again the lords of the north and the lords of the Vale hurried after their king, to watch him deliver justice.

A block had already been placed in the courtyard, but it didn’t take her long to figure out why. Ramsay Snow stood bound and gagged in the middle of the courtyard flanked by Targaryen men. It was clear that Jon didn’t intend to drag this out more than they needed.

As they watched Jon take lord Ryswell´s head, Sansa grabbed Rickon´s shoulders, both for his comfort and her own. She schooled her face into the mask that she had perfected when she had been in king´s landing, but the anger and fear was bubbling in her belly.

She watched as lord Ryswell´s body was dragged away; Ramsay was put in his stead and his gag was removed.

When Jon asked him for his last words, Sansa couldn’t hear what he was saying for some reason, it was like the world had turned it´s sound of, and the only thing she could hear was strange buzzing, like the flies in the capitol on hot day.

As she watched the bastard of Bolton, she could feel the bile rise in her throat and she had to forcefully keep her breakfast down.

Whatever the bastard had to say, it was making Jon very angry, she could see the cold anger in his eyes, on his otherwise stoic face.

Jon raised Longclaw and the dark blade severed Ramsay´s head from his shoulders seemingly without any resistance.

As soon as Ramsay´s head fell to the ground, the sound came back and it was like the whole world was made anew.

For some reason the sun was shining brighter, and the sky was clearer, and the air was sweeter. She watched as Jon´s men dragged the lifeless body away to be burned. She could hardly believe that it was over. She could suddenly feel the exhaustion seep into her bones and all Sansa wanted to do was to curl up in front of the fire with a book and a mug of ale.

After they had reclaimed Winterfell, she had started to prefer northern ale to wine, for some reason it spoke of more happier times, as wine was the only thing that was served at the southern feasts that she had been forced to attend when she had been a hostage in the capitol.

Jon walked over to them. “Are you two alright?” His eyes where alight with worry for both Sansa and her little brother. She nodded and sent Jon a tired smile, she felt Shireen approach her and the young girl also sent her a concerned look, but tactfully said nothing.

Jon looked at her for a moment, then he turned his attention to Rickon. “Hey, why don’t you and I go to the godswood and I will show you how to properly clean a valyrian steel sword?”

Sansa smiled at her little brother, as he smiled excitedly at Jon, clearly happy with getting to spend more time with him.

As she watched them walk away, Sansa decided to go to her solar and have that mug of ale that she had been dreaming of. She grabbed Shireen´s hand and dragged her to her solar, much to the girl’s amusement.

Lyta, her maid servant, that had followed her from the keep of the first Flints, handed her a mug of ale as Sansa sat herself down in front of the fire, Sansa had invited Brienne to sit with them, which she gratefully accepted.

The fire was roaring in the hearth as they sat together in the warm solar.

“So,” Brienne began. “Are you nervous for tomorrow?” The knight asked as she sipped on her summer wine. Brienne hadn’t acquired the taste of northern ale yet. Shireen also sent her a curious look, as she savored the small mug that had been filled with watered down ale.

Sansa smiled into her mug. “Yes,” she admitted. “But its good nervousness.” She didn’t know how to describe the feeling that was taking over her very being.

Her other two marriages had been filled with dread and fear, but for the first time since she was a little girl, she wasn’t afraid to face her wedding day.

“Have you finished the dress?” Brienne asked her as she nursed her cup of wine. It was clear to Sansa that her friend was trying to distract her from today’s executions, and Sansa loved her friend all the more for it.

“Yes, I finished this morning.” Sansa replied with a grin, her dress was stark white with blue winter roses all over the skirt and bodice. Sansa had found an old maiden cloak in one of the towers that had been untouched in the sack of Winterfell, which she would be using.

“What about the bride cloak?” Brienne asked with a frown, it had been the thing that had cause most concern, as it was usually made by a female member of the groom’s family. But Sansa had found someone to make it.

She smiled at her friend. “Shireen made it for us, she finished just before the meeting began.” Shireen turned very shy at that, she had been worried that she wouldn’t do a good enough job, but Shireen had proved herself wrong, and Sansa had thought her work, excellent.

The three of them talked for some time about the wedding, before they heard a knock on the door.

Sansa called for whoever was knocking to enter, and in walked Jon. He had removed the crown of Aegon, and he was looking disheveled but very happy for some reason. Rickon had followed him into the room, looking just as happy.

“Jon, what is it?” Sansa placed her mug on the table as she stood up. But Jon didn’t answer, instead he walked over to her and hugged her close to his body.

After a few moments he took a step back but kept his arms around her. “We got a letter from Castle Black; Bran is alive, and he is on his way home.” He was smiling widely and there were tears of happiness threating to fall.

Sansa could hardly believe what he was saying. Her little brother was alive and coming home, one more Stark would soon be back where they belonged.

JON

He had never been this nervous before in his life. Ever since he had found out what a bastard meant, he had sworn of children and marriage, as he had thought that he couldn’t give a woman good name, but now here he was, getting ready for his wedding.

And not to just any woman, no, he was getting married to Sansa Stark. one of the most beautiful women in Westeros.

He adjusted the collar of the ink black jerkin that had the three headed dragon of house Targaryen roaring proudly on his breast, that Satin had helped him into, and he could feel his hands shake with nervousness.

“Here, drink this.” Satin handed him a mug of ale with a grin. “Just don’t drink it too fast, you don’t want it to go to your head.”

Jon accepted the mug with shaking hands and took a small sip. Normally he enjoyed the taste of ale, but today it was bland and tasteless on his tongue.

He glanced outside the window and watched as the sun was setting behind the tall trees that made up the wolfswood.

He could see Rhaegal, Viserion and the smaller dragons fly over the forest, and playing happily in the sky. They looked so beautiful and graceful soaring in the orange, pink and purple light of the setting sun.

Jon would be taking Rhaegal and Viserion with him south, but he would be leaving Sycorax, Umbriel, Oberon and Charon here with his family, to guard them.

Jon had no doubt in his mind that they would do their very best to protect Sansa, Rickon and Shireen, as they always took Jon´s orders to heart and did as he asked of them. They had proved themselves much better behaved, than Rhaegal and his brothers when they had been the same age. He had tried to leave Viserion here as well, but Sansa had absolutely refused. Not because she didn’t want Viserion in Winterfell, but she wanted him with Jon to protect him.

He had tried to tell her that Ghost and Rhaegal would be enough to protect him, but she had argued that since he didn’t have a king´s guard, he would need all the protection he could get, as he was the king, he would need to be protected.

Jon smiled at the memory of them in Sansa´s solar, arguing about who needed more protection. He would miss those moments when he went south. He would miss her.

But Jon would miss them all, in fact he already missed them, and he was still in Winterfell. He could feel the dread in his belly as the day he would leave the north for the first time in his life.

Had Robb felt this when he had left Winterfell? Most likely, but Jon just hoped that he would be able to return, unlike his cousin, who he would always think of as a brother no matter who he called father.

“Hey,” Satin pushed his shoulder gently. “Don’t look so grim, you are getting married to one of the most beautiful ladies in Westeros, not getting sentenced to death.”

Jon smiled a little at his friend. He had intended to respond, but there was a knock on the door. Satin rushed to answer it. Jon´s steward showed the person that had knocked into the room.

The person turned out to be Howland Reed, he was holding the black and red bridal cloak in his arms, that Shireen had worked hard to make. The older man smiled at Jon. When Jon had told the lord of Greywater watch that his daughter was alive and well, and on her way to Winterfell, the man had wept with joy.

“How are you feeling?” The smaller man asked Jon.

Jon was still nursing his almost untouched mug of ale. “I am nervous, I guess.” He stared into the mug as if it held all of life´s secrets.

Howland took a seat beside him. “Aye, I know how that is, when I married my Jyana, I couldn’t stop throwing up.”

That statement made Jon look up in surprise at the lord of Greywater watch. Jon couldn’t imagine him nervous or frightened, Howland Reed always looked so calm and collected that it was hard for Jon to imagine him nervous for his wedding.

The older man smiled at him. “Don’t worry you will be fine.” That didn’t serve to calm him at all, but the sentiment was appreciated.

“But I have it.” The man said as he pulled a box for under the black and red cloak and placed it on the table. Jon took the box and opened it; it was just like he had wanted. He smiled at the object inside, it was beautiful, and he hoped Sansa would like it.

Satin came up to them. “It is time.” Jon looked at his friend and stood up. Jon took a deep breath to try to calm himself down, but it didn’t seem to work. Jon placed the mug on the table by the small wooden box as Satin handed Jon the crown of Aegon the dragon, and Jon placed the crown on his head.

Jon glanced at the box and opened his mouth to speak, but Satin interrupted him. “Don’t worry, I won’t forget.” Jon nodded as the young man just smiled at him.

They left the room and made their way into the godswood. The lords of the north and attending Valelords had all gathered in the large godswood of Winterfell. They were a sporting their best attire and Jon could see that they clearly were looking forward to the feast tonight.

The air was still, and the moon had risen and was shining brightly on the snow-covered ground, and the dying light of the sun was almost gone. The only sound was that of the lords speaking quietly to one another, and the distant beating of dragon wings.

Jon took his place in front of the Weirwood tree as he waited for Sansa to arrive with Rickon. He could spot Shireen standing beside Ser Brienne, Ser Brynden Tully and Ser Devan Seaworth, she sent him an encouraging smile, and he tried to return it, but he was sure that it made him look like he was trying to throw up in nervousness.

Jon glanced at the Hearttree and stared into the crying face, and as he looked into its eyes, he could feel like something was watching him.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a few gasps, and he turned and looked to see what had caused them.

It was like the wind was knocked out of his lungs as he stared at Sansa walking up to him, on Rickon´s arm.

She was dressed in a lovely white dress with winter roses sown into the skirt and bodice and her hair had been pulled in a bun at the nape of her neck, that had a few of her fiery red locks escaping and curling around her face.

She was smiling brightly as she and Rickon made their way to the Hearttree, and the moonlight was making her skin look luminescent, and Jon was sure that there wasn’t a more beautiful being alive, than Sansa Stark.

As they approached him, he couldn’t help but to wonder why his cheeks were suddenly hurting so much. He didn’t have a long time to wonder about the pain, as Howland jabbed him with his elbow and then the lord of Greywater watch sent him a look.

Oh, right. He thought to himself as he felt his cheeks redden. “Who comes before the old gods this night?” He tried to keep his voice steady, but he had been so enchanted by Sansa that all other thought had fled his mind, even the thought that he was supposed to ask the first question.

They had decided to forgo the usual conductor of the ceremony and have Jon himself ask the first question, as they didn’t want to be seen playing favorites.

Rickon tried to look as serious as he possible could, but it was undercut by his large, happy smile. “Sansa, of house Stark, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and…” Rickon suddenly frowned and looked to his sister, he had clearly forgotten what was next.

But Sansa smile and whispered the answer to him. Rickon´s eyes lit up as he continued. “And noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who claims her?”

“Jon, of house Targaryen, King of the seven kingdoms. Who gives her?” Jon replied and waited for Rickon to continue.

“Rickon of house Stark, the lord of Winterfell, and Sansa´s brother.” Rickon turned to his sister.

“Sansa do you take this man?” Sansa smiled, clearly trying to hold in her laugh as Rickon forgot to call her a lady, in his rush to get this over with.

“I take this man.” She said with a smile, and Jon took her hand and they both knelt before the Weirwood tree.

“Jon,” Sansa whispered so no one else could hear. “Stop smiling, you are supposed to be praying.” He could hear the amusement in her voice, but what on earth was she talking about? He wasn’t smiling. Then it hit him, the pain in his cheeks was because of how widely he was smiling. He tried to stop, but for some reason he couldn’t.

“I can’t.” He whispered back, and he could see that she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

They stood back up, and Jon removed her maiden cloak. He was still grinning like an idiot as he placed the black and red cloak of house Targaryen over her shoulders. Then the nervousness returned as he leaned closer and placed a small, delicate kiss on her lips, to seal their union. Jon could feel his lips tingle at the short contact and his heart started to race so fast that he thought that it would burst out of his chest. As they separated, they were both blushing, but all Jon wanted to do was to lean down again and place another kiss on her lips.

But he knew he couldn’t do that, as they had to make their way to the feast, and he was sure that Sansa wouldn’t appreciate him kissing her again in front of all the lords.

So, he contented himself with sweeping her into his arms and the lords gave a cheer as Jon swept her up and carried her to the great hall for the feast.

The feast that was held to celebrate their wedding was truly a northern one. The ale flowed freely, and all the shouting and cheering was enough to make any person deaf.

Halfway through the feast, Sansa dragged Jon into the dancefloor. She had been doing her best to teach him when they had time to practice, but Jon feared that he was a lost cause.

“You are still smiling.” She stated with a laugh, and Jon felt his face start to get warm again.

“I think that a man is allowed to smile at his wedding.” He said and then he added with a fake thoughtful look. “In fact, that think that it is a requirement.”

“Is it?” She asked with a sparkle in her blue eyes. “I don’t think that I have ever seen you smile like that.”

“I had a good reason to smile like that today.” He stated and now it was Sansa´s turn to go deep red in the face.

They danced together for some time, before they returned to the high table again, and by now it was getting a little late. But Jon wanted to do one more thing before they retired for the night.

Jon stood up from his chair and addressed the people in the room. “My lords and ladies, thank you all for being here today, helping my new queen and I celebrate our wedding.” when he called Sansa, his queen it made all the people start cheering again.

“But before the night is over,” He now turned to Sansa and spoke to her. “there is something I want to give you.” As Jon gestured for Satin to hand him the small wooden box.

“As you all know,” Jon took the box from Satin´s hands and placed it on the table in front of him. “The kings of Winter had crowns made of bronze and iron.”

Jon could see that every soul in the great hall was now staring at him in curiosity, and they would be curious as Jon had really played this close to the vest. There were only three people that knew that Jon had this planed, Satin, Howland Reed and Jon himself.

“I thought it was fitting that our new queen have her own crown of bronze and iron.” He could see the excited looks on the lords of the north, they were clearly happy that Jon was trying to honor the traditions of the north.

He could also see the surprised look on Sansa´s face, as she clearly hadn’t expected a crown of her own. Jon opened the box and took the crown that was still covered with a cloth in the colors of house Stark.

Jon felt the nervousness start to bubble in his belly again, he hoped with all his heart that Sansa would like it.

Jon took the cloth that covered the crown and placed it on the table, as soon as he revealed the crown he was giving his new wife, he heard gasps from all over the hall and some people had stood up to take a better look at what Jon was holding in his hands.

The crown was a lot like the one he had on his brow, but instead of valyrian steel, the circlet was made of beaten bronze with runes of the Firstmen decorating it´s surface, and instead of square cut rubies, there were snarling direwolfs.

Jon had really wanted to have the crown decorated with winter roses made in blue, but he felt that it was too soon, and he didn’t want to take the risk of offending the lords of the north. Even though they now knew that Rhaegar had given Lyanna the crown of winter roses for her bravery at the tourney, he felt that, him the son of Rhaegar, giving a Stark girl a crown of winter roses may hit a sore spot of some of the lords.

So, he decided to have direwolf instead, to honor the house his queen was from. A large part of him, thought that it was a better match anyway. Sansa wasn’t a delicate flower anymore, that needed to be guarded. She was now a fierce direwolf and he wanted her crown to reflect that.

Sansa was smiling brightly at him, he approached her slowly and gently placed the crown in her head. As soon as the crown touched her head, the cheering began anew in the great hall of the Starks.

Chapter Text

MELISANDRE

She stood on the steps of the temple of the lord of light in Volantis. She hadn’t expected to be here again, but when the prince that was promised had banished her from the seven kingdoms, she knew that she must return and tell the high priest of what she had seen.

It would be hard to persuade high priest Benerro to take the things she had seen seriously, for he was convinced that Daenerys Targaryen was Azor Ahai reborn, but she knew that he was wrong.

She had tried to resurrect Jon Snow after his murder, but she had failed only to have the lord of light himself, bring back the promised prince with four dragons of his own.

And in those flames, she had seen the truth.

She stared at the temple that rose high in front of her, it was a massive structure that was made from stone that was in a hundred hues of red, yellow, gold and orange and it reminded her of a sunset.

The temple was on the east side of the Rhoynar river and it was so large that it was three times the size of the sept in king´s landing, or so the scholars claimed, but Melisandre had stop caring about such unimportant things after she had seen the prince step out of the flames with his dragons.

All that mattered was that they would help Azor Ahai to defeat the great Other and bring back the dawn, and to do that she had to convince the high priest that the man she had seen step out of the flames with his four new born dragons was the real prince that was promised.

She walked up the steps to the great door of the temple, as she approached the guards opened the door for her, the fiery hand was quick to recognize her as a priestess of the lord of light as they should.

She walked into the great temple of their lord, and as always it was brightly lit with a thousand braziers and a thousand chandeliers that hung all over the high celling. The walls were filled with murals, depicting the fight between Azor Ahai and the great Other.

Never in one of the paintings did the face of their savior appear clearly, but the savior always held the flaming sword in his hands, ready to slay their enemy.

Melisandre walked closer to the great altar, where the high priest Benerro stood with his hands clasped before him, and presumably waiting for her. He was standing before the great stone brazier, where the priests and priestesses of R´hollor would look for their lord’s signs.

The flame of truth was a tall, thin man with so pale skin that it seemed almost transparent, the slave tattoos covered his face and bald head and made a mask, leaving only his eyelids and mouth untouched.

“High priest Benerro.” She greeted in high valyrian and gave a small bow to show her respect for him. He may be wrong in thinking that Daenerys was the promised prince, but he was still the high priest.

“Priestess Melisandre, you have returned.” Benerro looked at her in curiosity, like she was something he hadn’t expected to see before him at this time. “We had not thought to see you here after you left for the sunset kingdoms.”

“I had not thought to be here, but the lord of light decided otherwise.” She replied and mirrored his stance. “But I come with tidings.”

“Oh.” He looked almost amused at this, like he thought that there was nothing that she could say that would be of news to him.

“Yes,” She walked closer to the great brazier and stared into the flame. What she saw in the flames made her surer than ever that she was doing the right thing. “I have seen the great other, and he is marching on the wall as we speak.”

The high priest was silent for a moment. “Are you sure of this? You can understand that I have trouble believing you after the blunder with Stannis Baratheon.”

Some time ago, this would have made her mad, that he would dare question her skill in reading the signs of R´hollor, she had never liked admitting failure to others, but that had been then, and the lord of light had thought her humility.

“Yes, I am sure. I was wrong about Stannis; I see that now.” She had been very wrong, but she had been where she needed to be to witness the prince step out of the flames. “But I have seen the truth now, the lord showed me after Stannis was slain in the snow.”

“Tell me.” Melisandre continued. “When you look into the fire and ask for Azor Ahai, what do you see?” She glanced at the high priest who was giving her a curious look.

Silence filled the temple for a moment before the high priest spoke. “Why do you ask?” She could see that he was a little bit annoyed with her for this question, it seemed that he didn’t like what he saw.

She smiled slightly to him. “Because up until a few months ago, whenever I asked for a sign of the promised prince, all I saw was snow.”

Melisandre studied his face, and while Benerro worked hard not to show any emotion, she could see his jaw clench and his nostrils flare. So, he had seen the same thing.

“You saw it too.” She stated, and then she waited for his answer. His mouth tightened and he gave a curt nod which made her smile.

She looked back into the flames of R´hollor. “I didn’t understand it for a long time, why was the lord showing me snow when I wanted to see the prince that was promised.” The flames were lovely as they danced in the great brazier. “It wasn’t until Stannis died that I realized that the lord of light was indeed showing me Azor Ahai.”

“Ah, so you finally see that the snow is for the silver of Daenerys Targaryen´s hair?” Benerro had a small smug smile on his face at that. He seemed as convinced as ever that Daenerys was Azor Ahai reborn, but he was wrong.

“No.”

Benerro give her a dismayed look. “So, you have not seen the truth then, Melisandre.” He gave a tired sigh and looked at the great door of the temple, then he shook his head.

But Melisandre just smiled at the man and how wrong he was. “I have seen the truth, the lord of light showed me.” Benerro looked at her again with anger in his eyes.

“So, you have found yourself a new Stannis Baratheon. Why are you not with that unfortunate soul now?” Melisandre had to admit, that when he flung her failures with Stannis in her face, it stung. She was only human, and therefore prone to make mistakes as any other, but she was on a mission and she would not let her feelings get in her way.

“I am only human, and therefore I can err,” She countered with a smile. “But have you looked into the fire since you heard about Daenerys´s dragons and asked for Azor Ahai?” Benerro would have heard about the dragons of Daenerys Targaryen before the prince stepped out of the flames, but she asked non the less.

Benerro gave her a cold look. “No, there is no need to. I know that Daenerys Targaryen is the promised savior and there is nothing you can say to convince me otherwise.”

Melisandre felt amusement rise in her belly as she listened to the man. “I thought the same thing about Stannis.” She looked back into the flames, and again she was shown the truth, then she turned back to Benerro, surer than ever that hers was a just cause.

“Look into the flames Benerro and ask for Azor Ahai.”

The high priest shook his head. “Why would I do that, I already know who they are, and that is Daenerys Targaryen.”

“Then you have nothing to lose, if Daenerys Targaryen is indeed the promised prince, then you will not see anything new and all will be the same as before.” The tall man scoffed and gave her a long look of contempt.

They stared at one another for a moment before Benerro finally relented. “As you wish Melisandre, I shall look for Azor Ahai once again.”

The flame of truth looked into the great stone brazier, and for a moment he seemed to have trouble seeing anything, but then his face slackened in surprise and his mouth hung open and Melisandre knew that he was seeing the truth for the first time.

SANSA

She woke up slowly, and all she could think about how warm and comfortable she was lying there. She opened her eyes and she could see her new husband soundly sleeping as she rested her head on his naked chest.

He had his arm wrapped around her and she had never felt so safe and warm as she laid in their marriage bed with her new husband. Sansa could also spot her little brother on Jon´s other side, as he had come running into their room a few hours after they had put him to bed.

Luckily Jon had the foresight to suggest them getting dressed before Rickon would come barging in on them. She really didn’t want her little brother seeing them naked.

Thinking about their first night together as husband and wife brought a blush to her cheeks. Jon had been true to his words about her being in control. At first, she had been timid and not sure of herself and what she was doing, but it hadn’t taken her a long time to gather the confidence she needed, especially after Jon had did that thing with his tongue.

Just thinking about it, made her feel things that she had never thought she could feel. She still felt a little sore between her legs, but it was a good sort of soreness, not at all like the pain she had felt after Ramsay.

She brought herself out of her thoughts of the bastard of Bolton, she didn’t want to think about him. Not ever.

She looked up at her husband´s handsome face. His tidy and closely cut beard made him look older than his nineteen years, but his curly hair that lay loose around his head, undermined that illusion.

If someone had told her that she would be here a year ago, lying in bed with the man she had thought was named Jon Snow, she would have thought them mad. But now she couldn’t be happier.

But then she remembered that Jon was leaving for the Barrowlands in a few days, and she felt dread settle in her stomach, she didn’t want him to leave her. She wanted him to stay here with her and Rickon and Shireen, she wanted them to start a family of their very own.

But Jon had to go south, he had to unite the seven kingdoms under his rule so that they could defeat the Others and survive the long night. She just prayed that they would get through this and get to live their lives together.

She glanced to the small table that was on their bedside, and she could see their crowns, resting together, and she felt a smile blossom on her face. She hadn’t been expecting Jon to make her a crown, especially one like that, but Jon had a way of surprising her.

If the lords of the north didn’t love him before, they certainly did now. That crown had been a good move on his part, and it showed how much he loved the north and it´s traditions.

She glanced up at Jon´s face again as he made a face in his sleep, and she had to stifle the laugh that threatened to burst out of her. He looked adorable when he made that face and again, she marveled on how young he looked in his sleep.

She didn’t know how long she stayed there, lying safe in her husband’s arms, before he started to wake up. He opened his eyes slowly, and she could spot a small tired smile on his lips.

Sansa leaned up to him and placed her hand on his bearded cheek and kissed his full lips. He tasted like northern ale and something that was uniquely Jon. Their kiss was slow and loving and she could feel the hand that he had wrapped around her travel up her back, bringing them closer.

“Eww.” Both Sansa and Jon were so startled that they almost jumped apart. Rickon was staring at them with disgust written all over his little face. “That´s gross.”

Sansa snorted with laughter at his words and Jon leant back into the pillows with a smile on his face. “This is what married couples do, Rickon.” Sansa defended her and her husband´s actions to her six-year-old brother.

The young boy looked at his sister with disbelief in his Tully blue eyes, but Sansa just shook her head with a smile, he would understand when he was older.

She glanced outside the window and she could see that the sun was rising high in the sky, it seemed to time for them to get up and get ready for the day. But before she got out of the warm bed and braved the day, she placed a quick kiss on Jon´s mouth before she stood up.

She didn’t know where all this boldness was coming from, but it must have something to do with how gentle and loving Jon had been the night before, that made she feel it was alright to kiss him like she had done.

She had vaulted out of the bed before Jon could catch her and went behind the screen that Sansa had often seen in her mother´s room.

“Come back to bed Sansa, it is still early.” Jon spoke as Sansa took cover behind the screen and she felt a smile break out on her face.

“It´s not early, we have to get ready.” She could feel the joy leave her as she thought how Jon would be leaving soon. “We have to get everything ready for your departure.” She spoke as she started to take of her nightgown and change into a grey dress and she could feel her words had brought sadness into the room.

“Why do you have to leave Jon?” She could hear Rickon´s little voice, ask her husband, and the sadness in his voice was overwhelming.

Silence filled the room for a moment before Jon answered. “Well, you know how you were being kept here by Ramsay Snow?”

Sansa couldn’t hear her brother answer, so she assumed that he had nodded. She doubted that Rickon would soon forget his ordeal that he had suffered at the hands of the Bolton bastard.

“You see in the Riverlands, there was people that are being held by Ramsay´s friends, and I need to help them and bring them home.” Jon explained in terms that a small child could understand.

“But why do you have to do it?” Rickon asked sadly.

“You know how the lords have declared that I am the king?” Sansa sneaked a look from behind the screen and she could see that Jon was now leaning against the headboard of their bed and Rickon was sitting up and looking at Jon with his large blue eyes.

When Rickon nodded his understanding, Jon continued. “As king, it is my duty to help them, it is the first duty of a king or a lord to help those who cannot help themselves.”

Sansa smiled at Jon´s words, she knew in her heart that Jon would be a great king and she was so proud to call him her husband.

She could see that her little brother was deep in thought and seemed to be gathering his courage to say something.

“Jon,” Rickon whispered and Sansa had to concentrate to hear what he was saying. “Have you ever had strange dreams?”

Sansa felt the breath hitch in her throat, was Rickon a warg too? If that was the case, losing Shaggydog must have been all the more devastating to him.

“What kind of dreams Rickon?” Jon asked and she could hear the suspicion in his voice. Rickon looked down at his small hands and bit his lip. “It´s alright Rickon, you can tell me.”

Rickon glanced at his cousin. “I dreamt that father died before we got the letter for Robb, I saw father in the crypts, and I told Bran, but he didn’t believe me.” His large blue eyes were begging Jon to believe him.

Jon was just staring at the young boy with shock written all over his face. “Have you had more dreams like this?” Jon asked Rickon, had Jon heard about something like this before?

The young boy nodded eagerly at his cousin. “I dreamt about Robb in the crypts as well with Greywind, and I dreamt that mother was sailing on a small boat down a green river.”

Sansa could feel the horror mount in her stomach as she heard Rickon describe his dreams. When a Stark died, it was tradition that they were buried in the crypt’s underneath Winterfell. The Tully funeral rites were different however, the Tully´s put their dead on a boat and as that boat sailed down the Red fork, it was lit with an arrow.

But the Freys had dumped their mother´s dead body in the Green fork, in mockery of the Tully funeral rites. Had Rickon dreamt of how the Freys had thrown their mother´s body in the river?

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jon pull Rickon into his lap, and hug the small boy close to his chest, Jon seemed a little rattled as well.

“Rickon, if you ever have such dreams, I want you to tell me or Sansa.” He looked Rickon in the eyes. “Promise me Rickon, you will tell us.” The lord of Winterfell looked at his cousin, and he seemed relieved that Jon was taking him seriously. Then he nodded and buried his face in Jon´s chest.

“Do you believe me Jon?” The young boy mumbled into her husband’s chest, but Sansa could still hear him.

Jon looked right into Sansa´s eyes and she could see the concern in his eyes as he replied. “Aye, Rickon I believe you.”

MARGAERY

She had never felt such relief as when Storm´s End came to view. The road from the capitol had been long and hard and it had taken forever for the smell of brunt bodies and ash to stop assaulting her senses.

Marge tossed her thick brown locks out of her eyes as she watched the large castle grow larger on the horizon. While she considered her father to be an oaf most of the time, this time he actually had a good idea for once.

As she glanced at her brother, she could see that the faith militant had broken him, he was a shadow of what he had been, and as she looked him over, barely hanging on his horse and dressed in rags to hide his identity, she could feel the anger rise in her chest.

Cersei would pay for what she had done to them, with fire and blood, Margaery would make sure of that.

They had heard of the young dragon that had taken Storm´s End and was waiting for them inside the castle walls. Which was most likely why all the lords of the Crownlands and the Narrow sea had disappeared from the capitol, they had all left King´s Landing shorty before the great sept had been blown up. Well, that was what her father had said at any rate.

The Tyrells would most likely meet them here in the strong hold of the Baratheons.

Her father had sent word by one of their fastest riders that they were coming to the Storm´s End to declare for the young dragon, and they had met with one of the commanders of the golden company, to escort them the rest of the way.

As she looked at the young man that served as one of Aegon Targaryen´s commanders, she couldn’t escape the feeling that something wasn’t right. It had been nagging at her since they had had word of the new claimant to the iron throne, but she pushed it aside.

There were more important things to worry about than feelings. Like revenge on Cersei.

That hateful bitch had tried to kill them, and they had only barely escaped with their life, because her brother Willas had managed to send help to them at the last moment.

Willas had managed to send a couple of his men, disguised as sparrows to sneak them out of their cells, before that hateful harlot Cersei had the sept blown up with wildfire.

She had never loved her eldest brother more than in that moment. He was always saving their hides, one way or the other.

Margaery glanced at the young commander again, he was handsome that was for sure, but he had been very quiet all the way to Storm´s End, and as she observed him making polite conversation with her eager father, the nagging feeling returned.

The commander had described Aegon as the paragon of chivalry and the very image of a good and gracious king.

But Margaery wasn’t convinced, that was the way Joffrey had been described and look how that had turned out.

As they approached the great stronghold that had once belonged to the Durrandons and then later to the Baratheons, she couldn’t help but to marvel at the architectural wonder that the castle was, it had been build thousands of years ago, and if the rumors were true it had been built by Brandon the builder himself. But Margaery doubted that story, it had most likely been Durran Godsgrief that had built the castle and the Starks had just said that it was Bran the builder to try to take credit.

The Starks hadn’t always been as honorable as Ned Stark had been. No, once they had been hard and unyielding people like Theon the hungry wolf and Brandon the breaker, and now they were most likely all gone for good.

But non the less Margaery was enchanted by the castle, and it´s high wall and single tower, the walls were so expertly placed that wind would have no purchase here.

As they entered the courtyard of Storm´s End, she could feel the tension that lingered in the air and it was so thick that she could have chocked on it.

The newest claimant to the iron throne was standing with his lord hand, which had to be Jon Connington, if his sigil and red hair and beard were anything to go by.

The young Aegon was tall, just under six foot and had the traditional silver hair and purple eyes of old Valyria. But he seemed to lack the unearthly beauty that his father had always been deemed to have. It was only his eyes that had any real beauty about them, or they would have if he hadn’t been frowning at her.

Aegon the sixth of his name, was wearing a handsome doublet with the red dragon of house Targaryen and he had a deep frown on his face, that seemed to have been there for some time.

As she dismounted, she tried her best at sending the young man a radiant smile, but it seemed that it didn’t have any effect and she felt her smile freeze and die on her face.

She had to admit, she had expected a much warmer welcome than this. All the faces of the commanders of the golden company were either very serious or frightened by something, and again the nagging feeling was dancing up a storm in her belly. She also noticed that the lords of the Crownlands and the Narrow sea weren’t anywhere to be found in the courtyard. She would have guessed that they would have been here by now, as they had been banner men to house Targaryen.

Margaery glanced at her father, and she saw that he didn’t notice any of the tension in the courtyard as he addressed the claimant to the iron throne and his council.

“Your grace, thank you for receiving us at such a short notice, we are honored to be in your presence.” Her father said grandly with a wide smile on his face.

The man that she suspected of being Jon Connington walked forward. “My lords, my lady, may I introduce Aegon of house Targaryen, king of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the first men, lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the faith.”

Both Margaery and her father bowed for the young man, but she had to give her brother a firm jab in the side to get him back to the present.

After the pleasantries were over with, two servant girls came over to Margaery to whisk her away to get ready for this evening.

When they left the capitol, they hadn’t been able to take anything with them but their clothes that they were wearing, and only her father had been wearing something that resembled clothes that fit a Tyrell of Highgarden.

All she had were the rags that the faith militant had made her wear, and her brother´s men had thought it was best for them to continue wearing them until they arrived at their destination. Willas´s men had been trying to get them to Highgarden and had tried to convince her father that it was want was for the best, but her father wouldn’t hear of it, and steered them all to Storm´s End.

Willas´s men seemed to grow more and more concerned with every step they took to Storm´s End, but they couldn’t really do anything as her father was still the lord of the Reach.

Margaery was shown into a room, that was spacious and warm, something that Marge had sorely missed.

The cells of the sept had been cold and damp, and she had longed for the small comforts that she was used to.

The servants brought in a large tub made of bronze, and filled it with warm water for her to soak in. But regrettably she didn’t have time to soak in the water. The two servant girls came over and started to scrub her within an inch of her life. When they had scrubbed her raw, both high and low, they started to detangle her formerly lovely brown locks.

When they were finally done, her scalp was in incredible pain from all the tugging and pulling by the two girls.

They rushed her out of the tub and dragged her over to the dresser and started to forcefully put her in a cream-colored gown. It was pretty, but not something that she would have normally worn.

The servant girls pulled her hair into a tight bun high on her head, making her eyes water with the pain. “There my lady, you are ready now.” One of the girls said, then they dragged her out of the room.

Margaery could feel her stomach growl in hunger as the girls lead her through the halls of Storm´s End. She hadn’t eaten since this morning when they started on the last leg of their journey, and now it was early afternoon.

The two girls lead her to her father, who was standing outside the ornate doors. He smiled widely at her. “Are you ready my girl?”

She gave him an uneasy smile, that he must have mistaken of a happy one. “Fourth time is the charm, right?” She asked, not expecting an answer, but she got one non the less.

“That’s the spirit.” He stated as he led her though the doors of the sept.

All her other weddings had been beautiful, but this one was rushed, and she didn’t even have her maiden cloak.

As they approached the septon and her future husband, she couldn’t help but to feel fear. Renly hadn’t been attracted to her, but he had always been kind and warm, Joffrey had been attracted to her, but he had died before he could hurt her and sweet little Tommen was still a child, much to her father´s relief, as the marriage had remained unconsummated so that she could marry again.

Her husband to be, was still frowning, and she was sure that Aegon was trying to kill her with his eyes.

When her father had first told her that she would be marrying the young man in the Stormlands, claiming to be the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, she had been conflicted, but now she wanted nothing more than to run away to Highgarden where she would be safe and protected with her brother Willas, who would never let anything hurt her.

But that was not an option anymore, she would have to go through with this if they wanted to bring down Cersei.

She could feel the terror in her very bones as her father lead her down the aisle to Aegon Targaryen. She hadn’t felt this when she had married Renly or Tommen, not even when she married Joffrey had she felt this much fear, and he had been mad.

Young Aegon was glaring at her like she had killed someone dear to him, but it seemed that her father wasn’t paying any attention to that, it was clear to Margaery that he was only thinking about that she would soon become a queen to an Targaryen king.

Marge could see Jon Connington give Aegon a look that made the young man give the older man an eyeroll and she could feel her heart sink.

She had a feeling, that of all the marriages that she had entered, this one would be the worst.

Chapter Text

SER DAVOS

He was standing in the room with the painted table, waiting for the lords of the Crownlands and the Narrow sea to arrive. As he glanced outside the window, he could see their ships docked at the stone harbor.

It seemed all the lords of the Crownlands and the Narrow sea had sent their representatives, but their ships were still greatly outnumbered by the northern fleet, which had arrived two weeks ago, and they were already sending dragonglass to White Harbor.

Davos had already received word from Winterfell about how they had taken the castle back from the Boltons, and how King Jon had saved young Rickon with the help of the larger dragons.

Davos hadn’t had any doubts that king Jon would take back the ancestral home of the Stark, as he had known about Rhaegal and Viserion for some time now.

The King had been kind enough to include a letter from Devan and Shireen along with his own, something that Davos was immensely grateful for. He had longed to hear from them both and to know how they were doing.

They both seemed so happy in Winterfell, and Shireen was overjoyed that she had a new family that wasn’t, well crazy, for the lack of a better word.

The young girl had clearly come to admire and respect lady Sansa or the future queen as Shireen was proud to report. That bit of news had been a little shocking for Davos, but it did make sense for the king to marry his cousin Sansa.

It would not only secure the north for generations to come, but also that marriage would tie the Vale and the Riverlands to him in the bounds of family, making it more likely for the Vale and the Riverlands to declare for Jon, giving him control over more than half the continent.

And as Shireen was Jon´s cousin and had declared for him, it would be likely that the Stormlords would want to side with him, over the Lannisters and the boy calling himself Aegon Targaryen.

The Stormlords had never liked the Lannisters, and with the legitimacy of young Tommen in question they would start looking elsewhere for leadership, and as Shireen was the only trueborn Baratheon left, she was the natural candidate.

They also weren’t likely to support this Aegon, as he had not only invaded their lands, he had also taken Storm´s End, and he was now surrounded by Stormlords on all sides and he had his back to the shipbreaker´s bay, which wasn’t good for him.

There was a knock on the door, and the lords of the Crownlands and the Narrow sea were shown in.

It seemed that everyone had answered his call, as the room was soon filled with highborn lords and ladies from all over the Crownlands. He could spot the young seven-year-old Monterys Velaryon, the new lord of the Driftmark and his bastard uncle Aurane Waters, who had been rumored to have stolen the royal fleet from under Cersei Lannister´s nose.

The old Ardrian Celtigar who was also known as the red crab had arrived. The last time Davos had seen the man, he had been in the battle of the Blackwater, where the old man had gotten himself captured by the Lannisters and the Tyrells, but it seemed that he had found a way to escape.

The young lady of Stokeworth was here was well, with the young bastard babe in her arms. Davos couldn’t help but to feel sorry for the young woman, who was now all alone in the world but for the little babe in her arms. Like many others, Davos had heard how the girl had been raped in the riot of King´s landing, over a hundred times, and that had resulted in the small babe in her arms.

Lord Duram Bar Emmon was here as well, a plum boy of sixteen who had been a faithful supporter of Stannis, but he had been disparaged by Stannis for the crime of being fat and feeble.

There were so many lords and ladies here that Davos had trouble greeting them all with the respect that their status demanded, but he thought that he did reasonably well.

“Milords and ladies, thank you all for coming here on such a short notice.” Davos started when the members of the ruling houses of the Crownlands and the Narrow sea had taken their seats. “I asked you all here today to talk about who to support in taking the iron throne.”

“Ser Davos, I have never known you to beat around the bush, it is one of your better qualities.” Lord Celtigar stated. “Tell us more about this northern Targaryen and his dragons.”

Davos had made sure that he had mentioned the four young dragons that his grace had stepped out of the flames with, in the letters that he had  sent to the lords. That fact alone would make the lords of Westeros interested in supporting the new Targaryen king as it proved that he had blood of old Valyria in his veins, and the only family left of the dragonriders of old were the Targaryens, it would mean that King Jon was definitely the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, and no one wanted to be fighting against dragons.

So, Davos told them what had happened, he told them how Stannis had died trying to get back Winterfell, how Jon had been betrayed by his sworn brothers and put on his funeral pyre, only to step back out of the pyre with four young dragons, how he had shown Davos, lady Sansa, Ser Brienne and Tormund, the leader of the Freefolk, the bigger dragons that had left Daenerys to join Jon.

Davos told them who that had made them question the King´s parentage, how they had traveled all over the north to gather allies and how they had found Shireen Baratheon and Davos´s son, then how they had found out the truth about how Rhaegar and Lyanna had run away with together and had gotten married.

When he finished telling them how lord Howland Reed had revealed the crown of Aegon the conqueror and used it to crown King Jon, all the lords and ladies were silent, with their mouth open in shock.

He had pondered for a while about telling them about all the impossible things that the king had achieved, like dying and coming back with four dragons, but not only had they seen with their own eyes many of the things that the Red woman had done, but also that many of the lords had their spies and most likely they had been reporting strange things happening in the north for a few weeks.

They had most likely also heard of Beric Dondarrion, who had been killed numerous times and had been brought back by the red priest Thoros of Myr and how Daenerys Targaryen had hatched her dragon eggs in Essos.

But there was one thing Davos decided to leave out of the tale, and that was the army of the dead. While everything he had told them was the truth, it was hard to believe and maybe it was best not to overwhelm them with the dead marching on the wall, coming to kill them all.

“You saw this with your own eyes?” Asked the old lord Celtigar, as the man stared at Davos with his old shrewd eyes. As the former lord of the Driftmark was now dead, it seemed that the lords of the Crownlands were looking to lord Celtigar for leadership, which was good for Davos.

Lord Ardrian Celtigar was a sour old man, who liked gathering as much wealth as he possibly could. He was also a man who employed spies and he must have heard the rumors of dragons in the north. Lord Celtigar was not the kind of man to bet against the trueborn son of Rhaegar when he had six dragons to his name.

Davos nodded to confirm that he had indeed seen it all with his own eyes.

“And here I thought that my spies were losing their minds,” Lord Celtigar looked over the gathered lords with a serious expression. “I have been hearing from my spies in White Harbor how the northern lords crowned Ned Stark´s bastard as the new Targaryen king, and how he had four dragons and the crown of Aegon the conqueror and the sword of Visenya Targaryen.”

Davos hadn’t mentioned the sword of Visenya Targaryen.

“That is what my people have been saying.” Lord Renfred Rykker the lord of Duskendale spoke as he stroked his silver beard. The lord of Duskendale had clearly inherited the silver hair of his mother, that had been the late lord Velaryon´s cousin.

Davos had head that lord Rykker had been in Maidenpool for the last couple of weeks, so it didn’t surprise him that lord Rykker had heard a lot about the king, as lord Manderly did a lot of business with the merchants there.

“What they are saying is true, king Jon has now taken back Winterfell from the Boltons and he will soon be marching on the Twins to bring house Frey to justice for what they did to his cousin, King Robb.” Davos told them, and he could see that the Red crab of house Celtigar was weighing the pros and cons of supporting the king.

Everyone turned to Aurane Water´s, lord Velaryon´s uncle as he spoke. “That is all well and good, but what about Aegon and Daenerys Targaryen?” He folded his arms in front of his chest and leaned back into his chair. “I cannot imagine that they will be happy to know that we are supporting the son of Lyanna Stark, and not them.”

Lord Rykker snorted. “Daenerys Targaryen is Rhaegar´s sister, and a sister cannot inherit before a son, even if she has dragons, or if Ser Davos is to believe, one dragon, since the other two went to Jon Targaryen.” The lord of Duskendale stared the bastard of the Driftmark down as he spoke. “And we have no idea if this Aegon character really is the son of Rhaegar, for all we know, he is just some Lyseni peasant who Jon Connington picked up and fooled himself into thinking that he is Rhaegar´s son.”

Davos had to hold in a snort at that, it seemed that no one had forgotten the obsessive love Jon Connington had for Rhaegar.

Davos watched as old lord Celtigar hummed before he spoke. “I agree with lord Rykker, but what is this Jon Targaryen like? Is he a good and just ruler, or just more of the same?” lord Celtigar give him a stare that seemed to penetrate Davos´s soul.

“He is a good man, and I am sure that he will be a great king.” Was the only thing Davos said, but he knew he didn’t need to say anything else, king Jon would have to be something else indeed to get the northern lords on his side with the last name Targaryen, even if they now knew that Rhaegar hadn’t kidnapped Lyanna Stark, and lord Celtigar knew it.

Lord Celtigar studied Davos for a moment while the other lord watched on and held their breath. “Then it is settled, tell King Jon that he can count on house Celtigar to support him.”

Davos could feel the relief flood his veins, he had gotten Ardrian Celtigar, and he could see on the faces of the gathered lords and ladies of the Crownlands that they would follow his lead as Davos had suspected.

JON CONNINGTON

The marriage of Rhaegar and Elia Martell had been arranged by King Aerys to secure the Dornish alliance and to spit in the eye of Tywin Lannister. Tywin had always been trying to make his harlot of a daughter a queen, and while Jon thought that Elia wasn’t good enough for Rhaegar and never would be, she was a lot better than Cersei Lannister.

Elia was a weak woman, but she had always been kind and gentle, whereas Cersei was the Stranger incarnate. That mad woman had burnt the Great sept of Baelor to the ground in wildfire to escape her trial by the high sparrow just a three weeks ago.

But as luck would have it the Tyrell´s had escaped the capitol before they could have been murdered by the Lannister woman. Mace Tyrell had sent a messenger to the one true king with the proposal of house Tyrell declaring for Aegon if he would marry his daughter, Margaery Tyrell.

Aegon had been wroth when he had heard of the man´s proposal, he had been so angry that lord Mace had dared to sell his loyalty and armies so expensively. But they needed the Tyrell armies to conquer Westeros.

The golden company had ten thousand men, including five hundred mounted knights and elephants, but regrettably they hadn’t been able to take the elephants with them across the sea, as they didn’t fare well on long ship voyages.

But that wasn’t enough to hold the seven kingdoms, when Aegon´s own brother was making his claim on the throne. Rhaegar´s second born son had four young dragons, the sword of Visenya Targaryen and the crown of Aegon the conqueror in his possession. He also had the love and loyalty of the lords of the north if Varys was to be believed.

He also had proof that Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark had married, making the boy who called himself Jon Targaryen, a trueborn son.

While they didn’t have any proof of who Aegon was, other than their word and his coloring. And right now, the only thing that Aegon had going in his defense that he was the son of Rhaegar, was the Targaryen coloring.

According to the spider, Jon Targaryen had the coloring of the Starks, which had made Ned Stark so successful in hiding the boy in plain sight.

But Jon didn’t bare his namesake any ill will. No, the opposite was actually the truth. This northern Targaryen was still the son of Rhaegar, and Jon´s namesake. Every time he thought that Rhaegar had named his son after him, it made his heart swell with happiness. Rhaegar had clearly left instructions with the Stark girl to name their offspring after Rhaegar´s best and most trusted friend.

Jon wondered what his namesake was like, would he be like Rhaegar or the Stark girl? Jon hoped that he was like Rhaegar. The silver prince was the best man Jon had ever known and he would have made a great king, if the usurper hadn’t murdered him at the trident.

But Jon had a feeling that his namesake was just like his mother, taking things that didn’t belong to her for her own selfish reasons. The Iron throne belonged to Aegon by rights, he was the oldest son of Rhaegar and therefore his heir, not this northern Targaryen.

Aegon had been raised all his life to be a king, while Jon´s namesake had been raised as a bastard, who knew nothing of ruling the seven kingdoms.

Jon just hoped that when they met, his namesake would have the decency to bend the knee, and then maybe one day he could serve Aegon in some capacity, hells maybe Aegon would give his brother some small keep to live in for the rest of his days.

That would be a step up from living as a bastard from the north.

Then there was the problem with his dragons. Jon´s namesake would of course have to give them up, Aegon couldn’t let his wayward brother have dragons. The dragons would be happier with Aegon anyway.

Jon was brought out of his thoughts by Aegon arriving in the war room of the Baratheons of Storm´s end.

Aegon was still in a foul mood after his wedding the day before. It had taken Jon everything he had to convince the boy to marry the Tyrell girl. Aegon had wanted to marry his aunt Daenerys Targaryen, as she was rumored to be the most beautiful woman alive and she had three dragons.

If Daenerys looked anything like her mother and brother, then Jon could believe it. But she was in Meereen and it wasn’t looking like she was going to move from the city any time soon, as she seemed to have taken up rule there. There had also been rumors going around Essos when they left that she couldn’t control the dragons she had hatched, and she had locked two of them under the great pyramid.

If the dragons couldn’t be controlled, they would be more of a liability than assets.

Aegon sat beside him and slumped in his chair. His silvery hair was disheveled and his purple eyes glared daggers at his commanders.

Jon glanced at Mace Tyrell and his son. While Mace was looking happy as a clam, his youngest son, Ser Loras was still staring at a spot on the table. The hand of the true king had heard of the treatment he had suffered at the hands of the faith militant, it seemed that newly resurrected order had done a lasting damage on the young man.

“Any word from the Stormlords?” Rhaegar´s son asked with his head held high, and Jon couldn’t help but to look for similarities between Aegon and Rhaegar. But other than the silver hair and purple eyes of old Valyria, he couldn’t seem to spot any. In fact, Jon couldn’t see any similarities between father and son, aside from the hair and eyes, not even in their characters.

Aegon didn’t enjoy his studies like Rhaegar, nor did he have Rhaegar´s skill with the sword. Aegon was passively good at the harp but he was nowhere near as good as Rhaegar had been, but perhaps comparing Aegon to Rhaegar was unfair.

The silver prince had been effortlessly good at everything he did, and while Aegon was his son, he was also Elia´s son, and Jon had never been impressed with her or anything she did. It was her fault that Aegon didn’t like his studies or was as good with the sword as Rhaegar had been.

“No, your grace.” Ser Harry Strickland spoke up with a frown. “All we know is that they are holed up in their castles and gathering armies around them.” The muttering started up almost immediately as he finished speaking.

All the commanders of the golden company were nervous. They had sailed to Westeros thinking that they had to take the Iron Throne from the Lannister woman and an eight-year old boy. But now they were hearing of a Targaryen to the north who had dragons and who could prove that he was the trueborn son of Rhaegar, which was something that Aegon couldn’t do.

They hadn’t expected to go to war against dragons, but his namesake’s dragons were still small and couldn’t be ridden for years yet nor used in battle.

He could spy Aegon suppress an irritated growl at the news, Jon understood, as they were surrounded by the Stormlords with their backs against the sea. If the Stormlords decided to unite against them, it wouldn’t be that hard to push them into the sea or starve them out, as lord Tyrell had almost done to Stannis Baratheon in the rebellion.

“What about the lords of the Crownlands? Have you lot heard anything about them?” Aegon asked and gripped the arm rest of his chair so hard that his knuckles turned white.

That made the lord of Highgarden and the warden of the south almost start dancing in his seat. “Oh, yes your grace, just before we escaped the capitol, the lords of the crownlands all left King´s Landing.” Then he looked a little confused. “But I have to admit, I expected to find them here.”

This news made all the commanders pale rapidly. If the lords of the Crownlands had left the capitol before lord Tyrell, they would have already been here before him if they had intended to declare for Aegon.

Varys had made sure that the news of Aegon´s landing where known to those that had been loyal to the Targaryen´s in the rebellion, so that they could pick up their swords for him when he arrived.

But no one had arrived aside from the Tyrells, and they had only arrived when the Lannister harlot had tried to murder them. And now that he thought about it, where on earth was Varys? he hadn’t been seen in two weeks.

“What about the pretender?” Aegon demanded, looking angrier than Jon had ever seen him. The rightful king refused to call Jon Targaryen his brother, he was sure that his father would never have married the Stark girl, and that this northern dragon was just a bastard trying to rise above his station.

No one answered the king, and the room was completely silent as everyone held their breath for any news about Jon Targaryen, while Mace Tyrell just looked confused.

Aegon looked over the faces of the gathered men in the room. “Where is Varys?” Everyone had just assumed that Varys had been skulking around, trying his best to find information to help Aegon to the throne, but after all this time it was looking more and more likely that they wouldn’t be seeing the spider any time soon.

“Varys hasn’t been seen in the castle for the past two weeks, your grace.” Harry Strickland answered in a grave tone.

“Wait, what pretender?” Lord Tyrell seemed very confused about who they could be talking about, and it seemed like it was time to tell the man about Aegon´s brother and his dragons, as it was too late for the man to back out of their alliance now, as his daughter had been wedded and bedded to Aegon.

JAIME

He walked through the halls of Riverrun, intent on barging in on his uncle Emmon, who was now the lord of Riverrun and demand an explanation for his stupidity.

Jaime couldn’t believe what that worm had done, of all the idiotic things to do, this one took the cake.

And the fact that aunt Genna had not send riders out immediately after uncle´s Emmons men was preposterous. Jaime doubted that she had known until it was too late, otherwise she would have stopped her idiotic husband.

Genna wasn’t the type to suffer fools, and that this had happened right under her nose was unbelievable. Which made this so surprising to Jaime that Emmon had dared to do this when he knew full well that Genna wouldn’t approve.

The weasel lived in fear of Tywin Lannister, so now that he was dead, maybe the man had decided to grow a backbone. But Jaime knew that that backbone would soon be broken, if not by his aunt Genna´s hand, then by Jaime´s.

He could feel the anger boil under his skin, as he stormed through the halls, effectively scaring the life out of some servants, that were working on taking down any and all artifacts that belonged to the Tullys. All banners with the sigil of house Tully were taken into the yard and burnt and the portraits of the former lords of house Tully went with them.

Jaime couldn’t help but feel a sting at seeing this happening. It reminded him too much of the cleansing that Robert Baratheon had done when he took the iron throne.

Everything that belonged to the Targaryen´s had been either burned, only the dragon skulls that had once decorated the throne room had escaped the purge, but they had been stored in the damp cellar, beneath the Red keep.

Jaime remembered when Robert would take some whore, he had taken a liking to, to see the skulls.

Jaime could still feel the guilt of having failed Rhaegar and his children, even after all this time. Their faces still haunted him at night, asking him why he had let them die.

He shook his head; he had a weasel to shout at. Jaime entered the solar of the lord of Riverrun without as much as by your leave.

As he entered the room, he was struck silent by the scene in front of him. His aunt Genna was standing over her husband as he sat by the desk, cowering.

Genna Lannister´s face was red in her anger at the man, and as she shouted at Emmon Frey, she had grabbed his ear, like she was attempting to rip it off.

Jaime would have found it funny, if he wasn’t so angry at the man. “What is going on?” He asked his aunt as she dangled her weak chinned husband by the ear.

His aunt stopped her yelling and looked at him. “My worthless husband has finally out done himself. I have never in my life seen such a fool of a man like the man that my father forced me to marry.”

She finally let go of the man´s ear, and placed her hands on her hips, and the anger was still clear on her broad smooth face.

“So, you have heard.” Jaime stated rather than asked. It was good to know that his aunt Genna hadn’t taken leave of her senses as well.

Jaime turned to face the cowering man by the desk. “What on earth were you thinking?” He asked Emmon Frey sharply.

“Thinking?” Genna piped up. “He wasn’t thinking, he never does, he just does as father dearest askes of him.”

“Hey now-.” Emmon tried to stand up for himself, but Genna wasn’t having it.

“Do not hey now, me. Emmon Frey. I have had enough of your foolishness, if Tywin had been alive, he would have strung you up by your feet in the dungeons and left you there until spring came.”

At the very mention of the late lord of Casterly Rock, Emmon Frey seemed to turn white in the face. It seemed that Tywin Lannister could frighten him even from the grave.

Jaime crossed his arms as he stared at his aunt´s husband. “What on earth possessed you to do something so stupid?” He asked again, and he could feel him start to get angry again.

As he stared down the man, he could see that Emmon Frey was starting to sweat. “Father sent me a letter, ordering me to do it. I had to listen; he is my father.” His watery eyes were begging Jaime to understand his plight, but Jaime would not be defending Emmon and his actions.

No, instead Jaime saw red. “Your father has enough hostages, Emmon. He didn’t need Edmure Tully in the Twins.” Jaime uncrossed his arms, placing his hands on his hips. “We needed him here, you needed him here. When his uncle, the Blackfish finds out that we don’t have him, he will most likely try to capture the castle again.”

Emmon scoffed at that. “Oh, the Blackfish is just an old man, and he ran away like a coward instead of fighting us.” Jaime closed his eyes in frustration at the man.

“Did it ever occur to you that it was a strategic retreat?” Emmon blinked owlishly at Jaime´s question.

“Piff, he just ran away like the coward he is, and now he is probably just hiding with some bandits somewhere, licking his wounds.” Emmon crossed his arms and pouted like a petulant child.

“Ser Brynden Tully? Hiding like a coward?” Genna cried out in disbelieve. “Are you mad? He is probably with the Stark girl and her Targaryen cousin right now, getting them to help him take back the Riverlands.”

Wait? What? The Stark girl and her Targaryen cousin? What on earth was his aunt talking about?

“What are you talking about aunt Genna?” Jaime asked her with a frown. He had heard of an Aegon Targaryen in the Stormlands, but he didn’t believe it for a second.

Jaime had been in there when his father had presented Robert Baratheon with the bodies of Elia and her children. He could still remember the tiny body of little Aegon, just lying there, lifeless, with his little head crushed by the mountain.

And little Rhaenys, who had been such a happy child who liked to play with her tomcat that she called Balerion, had been stabbed half a hundred times.

Genna looked at Jaime with an apologetic look. “I just got the news before I came here. But apparently Ned Stark´s bastard was never a bastard at all, but the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. The northern lords crowned him in White Harbor and now he is going to Winterfell with his cousin Sansa Stark to reclaim the castle from the Boltons, if he hasn’t taken it already.”

Jaime just stared at his aunt for some time. Rhaegar had married Lyanna and they had a son together?

Jaime remembered the bastard of Winterfell vaguely, he had been a serious looking sixteen-year-old, who was going to the wall. The king´s guard member had wanted to see the one stain of Eddard Stark´s honor with his own eyes.

Of all of Ned Stark´s children, Jon Snow had been the only one, beside the little girl, who had the Stark look. Jaime had found him at the blacksmith, and the boy had been waiting for a sword.

Jaime had of course tried his best to get a rise out of the boy, but he had just stared at Jaime in quiet fascination, like Jaime was an experiment and Jon Snow was a maester trying to figure out how Jaime worked.

Jaime didn’t remember the young man´s face clearly, the boy had just been a Stark bastard after all. But Jaime remembered his eyes, they were the color of valyrian steel, and they dug through him like daggers.

But the boy hadn’t been a bastard, now had he? Ned Stark had hidden him away to shield him from his best friend´s fury.

Jaime collapsed into a chair by the desk, then he just started laughing at the absurdity of it all, Ned Stark had held the dagger to his friend´s back all these years, and no one knew.

Genna and Emmon just looked at him like he had lost his mind, maybe he had.

Rhaegar´s son had been declared king by the lords of the north. Yes, he definitely just lost his mind.

“You don’t think that he will come here?” Emmon asked in his high and wispy voice. Genna just sent him a fowl look.

“Of course, he will, our families just murdered his cousin, who he believed to be his brother, at a wedding. He is honor bound to come and avenge him.” Emmon had turned chalk white at his wife´s words. “And you Emmon, just like the idiot you are just send our only bargaining chip away to your father.”

Silence filled the solar for a moment before Genna continued. “That is not all.” Jaime looked at his aunt, who had been like a mother to him after his died in the birthing bed. “He also has four dragons, if the stories are to be believed.”

“The dragons are all dead! The dragons are all dead!” Emmon chanted like a small child demanding a candy.

But Jaime just looked at his aunt in wonder. “Are you sure?” He asked her, a part of him hoped it was true, that meant that at least one of Rhaegar´s children had lived to see adulthood, even if he was soon coming to kill them all.

“Yes, I believe so, my contact says that they are now the size of large hounds.” Jaime slumped in his chair, so the man he had thought was Jon Snow was actually a Targaryen king in disguise.

Emmon seemed a little encouraged with hearing about the size of the dragons. “But the north cannot win against the rest of the seven kingdoms alone, we can invade the north and kill this Targaryen and his small dragons.”

Jaime and Genna both sent him annoyed looks. But it was Jaime who spoke. “You want to invade the north, in winter? That would be suicide.”

Genna nodded in agreement. “Yes, it was the snows and the cold that broke Stannis more than the Boltons ever did. Our armies don’t know how to fight in the snow and ice, and we would likely lose half of our men trying to cross the neck.”

Emmon just stared at his wife, and his watery eyes held fear as he tried to process her words.

But Genna was not done talking. “There is also news from the capitol.” She sat down in the chair beside Jaime and sighed. “It seems that Cersei had finally out done herself.”

Those words made Jaime look at his aunt in surprise. What had his twin done to make their aunt look so tired?

“It seems that she…” Genna trailed off, she clearly had trouble finding the words. “She burned the great sept in wildfire.”

The silence following her words was deafening.

Chapter Text

MARGAERY

She was sitting by her vanity, brushing her hair. She must have been sitting there for an hour while staring at her reflection in the looking glass.

Her thick brown locks were starting to look like they had before her imprisonment, but they had lost some of their luster and she was still looking rather skinny from her time in the dungeons underneath the Great sept of Baelor. She was also rather pale and the rosy look that had always adorned her cheeks was gone.

Was that the reason her now husband didn’t like her?

Every time Aegon looked at her, she could see the anger in his eyes. It was like she was taking something from him, but she didn’t know how to fix it.

With all her other husbands, she had time to prepare and get to know them. She had known Renly for a long time through Loras, and it did help that she and Renly were good friends, even though he wasn’t attracted to her at all.

She had known what Joffrey had been, but she had managed to study him, and he was easy enough to fool into being infatuated with her like most other men.

Tommen had been an eight-year old child and didn’t really require a lot of work for her to win over, all she needed to do, was to spend some time with him, and listening to him talk about his cats for a while.

But she had no time to study Aegon or try to win him over, even if she had all the time in the world, she doubted that it would be enough. He seemed determined to hate her.

On the way here the commander that had escorted them to Storm´s End, had described Aegon as a kind and a generous soul, but she had yet to see that side of him.

He hadn’t been kind nor generous on their wedding night, he hadn’t been cruel or needlessly causing her pain like Joffrey would have, but Aegon had come to her bed drunk and angry, and commanded her to lay there silent with her legs spread while he took her.

It hadn’t been that painful, and he had been quick about it, but that didn’t mean that Margaery liked the way he treated her like a broodmare and not at all like a living breathing person that had feelings.

No, she didn’t like it at all, in fact the very thought of having to go through it again made her want to vomit and she felt humiliated by the way he treated her.

As she brushed her hair, she kept her tears at bay with force of will alone, she was the queen of the seven kingdoms, and she would not cry.

All her life, Margaery had been told that one day she would be Queen, but not once in her life, had she thought that her husband would treat her this way. She had never expected that her husband would use her like this and then just stumble drunkenly away whilst muttering to himself how he had better lays with the maids.

She kept on unconsciously brushing her hair as she thought about her less than ideal circumstances, she wished that she had followed her instincts and rode on to Highgarden, but if she had done that, how would she have gotten this opportunity to get her revenge on Cersei?

She wouldn’t have, that was for sure. Aegon was the only other candidate for the throne and nothing would hurt Cersei as much as taking the throne away from her.

She heard a rapid knock on the door, and as she turned her head to call for whoever it was to come in, the door was opened. She almost started to reprimand whoever it was that was entering for coming without her leave, but she quickly decided not to, as it turned out that it was her father.

Her father closed the door behind him and gave her a nervous smile. “How are you my girl?” Margaery wanted to shoot him an annoyed look, but she restrained herself, as the man was still her father.

“I am fine father.” She placed the brush back on the vanity and turned back to look at her father so they could talk. It was then she noticed that he was unusually pale, and his fat fingers were grabbing his belt to keep them from shaking. “Father what is it?”

“Nothing, nothing my girl.” He gave her another nervous smile and his double chin quivered. “Nothing for you to worry about.” She didn’t buy her father´s reassurances. She had never seen her father this afraid before in her life, not even when his mother decided to take him to task.

“Father please, tell me what is wrong.” She begged him, she had to know what had terrified her father so.

The lord of Highgarden glanced at the door, like he was assuring himself that it was really closed, before he looked at her again. “My girl, there has been an issue, but nothing serious I am sure.”

“Father please tell me.” Margaery stood up from her chair and clenched her tiny fists, couldn’t he see that she needed to know?

“Fine, fine, fine my girl, I will tell you.” Her father relented and gestured for her to sit down by her vanity again. “There had been a slight issue with the lords of the Crownlands and the Narrow sea, they haven’t arrived here even though the arrival of the King had been made known to them.”

Margaery frowned at that, that was strange. The lords of the Crownlands and the Narrow sea would be the first in line to declare for the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, so why hadn’t they arrived to swear their oaths yet? But that wasn’t enough for her father to start being afraid.

“Father what is really going on?” She made her voice soft as she begged her father to tell her what had scared him so.

“Well, there seems to be another Targaryen claimant to the Iron Throne, but it is nothing for you to worry about.” The warden of the south reached out and petted her brown curls, and she had to resist the urge to slap his hand away and demand answers.

“Is Daenerys Targaryen on her way here?” She asked her father with wide eyes; Daenerys Targaryen was rumored to be the most beautiful woman alive and she was said to have three dragons. Margaery didn’t really believe the last part, as the dragons had been dead for hundred and fifty years and weren’t likely to come back anytime soon, but she was also rumored to have the ten thousand Unsullied in her service. The Unsullied were rumored to be the best infantry soldiers in the known world.

Margaery had no interest in some foreigner coming here to trying to usurp her place as the Queen of the seven kingdoms after everything that she had suffered.

But lord Mace Tyrell just shook his head. “Oh, no my girl, nothing like that.  But it seems like prince Rhaegar had another son, this one by Lyanna Stark, and now he is also claiming the Iron Throne.”

Margaery just stared at her father as he told her this, and she couldn’t help but to notice even though her father was afraid, he was remarkably calm about this news.

Marge closed her eyes and rubbed her temples; this couldn’t be happening. Ever since she was a little girl, she had her life planed out, and it always ended with her being the Queen of the seven kingdoms.

She would not be denied by some bastard trying to rise above his station. “Who is this bastard? And where did he come from?” It seemed like such a short time ago, when the Targaryen line was all but gone, but now there were Targaryen princes and Targaryen bastards just popping up, left and right.

And where could this bastard have been hiding all this time? Robert Baratheon would never have let him live if he had known about him, even if his name wasn’t a trueborn Targaryen.

She could see her father start to shift nervously on his feet as he gave a nervous laugh. “He isn’t a bastard but a trueborn son of Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark.” Margaery could feel her insides freeze at his words, this couldn’t be happening, this wasn’t true. “But don’t worry my girl, he is still King Aegon´s younger brother, and therefore he cannot inherit before him, even if he has four dragons.”

She stared at her father in shock, what had he just said? He couldn’t have said that the boy was a trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark with four dragons. That was impossible.

“Father, all the dragons are dead.” She tried to explain slowly so that he could understand.

But her father just shook his head. “No, the King´s war council have assured me that it is the truth, but don’t you worry my girl, you just focus on giving the King a son.” The lord of Highgarden gave another nervous laugh and petted her head again, before he left the room.

But Margaery just sat there frozen in place at the news her father had brought her. Her father seemed convinced that dragons were back in the world and in the hands of her husband´s brother, who seemed to believe that the Iron Throne was his.

She could feel fear in her veins, and she was sure that she heard a voice echo in her head that sounded suspiciously like her grandmother. “You should have gone home silly girl.”

SANSA

She opened her eyes as she heard the rustle of the leaf’s about her head. She was sitting by the Weirwood tree, in front of the dark pool in the Godswood of Winterfell with Ice resting at her feet, and she could hear the four smaller of Jon´s dragons shriek in the air above the Godswood. She had been coming here to pray ever since Jon had left with his larger dragons and the army of the north and the knights of the Vale.

Every day she came here to pray, for Jon´s safety and the safety of their little family. But that wasn’t the only thing she prayed for. No, she had started to pray that she was carrying Jon´s child in her belly.

Before Jon had left Winterfell, they had used every chance they had alone to try and make a child, she so wanted to give Jon a child that they could call their own.

She remembered as a girl, that both her septa and her mother had always described the act of making a child a duty that a woman had to bare for the sake of their husband, and while she had been married to Ramsay, their words had rung true.

But now, married to Jon, making a child was not a duty, but a toe-curling pleasure. Sansa could feel a blush coming on as she thought about their time spent together, trying to make a child, and she had to cross her legs to try and stop the tingling between them.

In the few short days that they had spent together as man and wife, had been the happiest she had ever been, she was even happier than before the time when Robert Baratheon had come to Winterfell.

“Sansa.” A small voice brought her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see her wild little brother looking at her with his large blue eyes. He was still sad that Jon had to go, but Rickon seemed to understand why Jon had to go, even if he didn’t like it.

But the young lord of Winterfell had come to the room that Jon and Sansa shared every night to seek comfort from the nightmares, and Sansa had to admit that she felt better with him there, after Jon had left, Rickon was not the only night time visitor that Sansa had started to receive, Shireen had also started to arrive at her room, as she was worried about the last member of her family.

Even the four dragons that Jon had hatched had started to spend their nights, in front of the fire in her room as well, and Sansa had to admit that she felt a little safer in a room full of dragons and a direwolf.

“Have you heard anything from Jon?” Rickon asked her as he sat beside her by the Weirwood tree.

Sansa shook her head. “No, sweetling I haven’t gotten a letter yet, but he will write to us when he was taken Barrowton.” They had heard from Jon last when he had been in Torren´s square, Jon had wanted to make sure that there were no Ironborn left in the north, and there had been rumors that there had been a couple of raiders holding the castle, but as soon as people had started to talk about the larger dragons, it seemed that all Ironborn had left the north for good.

“Oh.” Was the only thing he said as he stared at the pool in front of him. Sansa placed her arm around Rickon.

“Hey, remember your promise.” Rickon looked at Sansa and gave her a slight smile. Jon had made the young boy promise to be brave and defend her, something that made Sansa roll her eyes at him as Jon had grinned playfully at her.

“Your grace, my lord.” Both Sansa and Rickon looked to the opening of the Godswood to see Ser Brienne and Podrick hurry over to them. They were both sweaty from training most likely, and their cheeks were red from the cold. “It´s your brother Bran, he has arrived.”

Sansa felt a smile break out on her face as she jumped up and dragged Rickon with her to see their brother. They had been anxiously waiting for Bran, ever since they heard that he was on his way home from Castle Black.

She had been so happy to hear that her little brother who had loved climbing was alive and on his way home, but she was sad that not only did he miss her wedding to Jon, but that Jon had to leave before he could see Bran.

Even if Sansa knew that time was of the essence, she still would have liked him to be there for their wedding.

They rushed after Ser Brienne and Podrick as the knight and her squire lead them to the courtyard of the castle. In the middle of the yard, Sansa could spot a cart that had been drawn by a bay garron and escorted by a dozen fur clad men and women. But it wasn’t that what drew her eye.

No, it was the tall young man sitting in the cart and looking at her and Rickon with a large smile on his face. He had long red hair and the Tully blue eyes were just like she remembered, but they were somehow much older than any eyes she had ever seen, like Bran had seen too much for someone so young.

Sansa could also see a young slim looking girl, clad in furs of the Freefolk like Bran, and his direwolf, Summer. The dark grey direwolf looked like he had seen better days, one of his ears was mostly missing and there were large scars in his flanks that looked like they would never again grow fur.

The relief that washed over her, seeing her beloved little brother was almost overwhelming, she let out a laughing sob and ran to him before he could say anything. Sansa wrapped her arms around him in a bone crushing hug as she both laughed and cried with happiness into his shoulder.

Not even a second after she had wrapped her arms around him, Rickon came crashing into them as he laughed with joy at seeing his big brother.

Rickon had been angry at Bran for leaving him behind, but the anger he felt at him was overshadowed by how much the youngest Stark missed him.

“Hi.” Bran whispered in her ear. Sansa didn’t know how long they stood there, just hugging each other before they had to let Bran go. As both Sansa and Rickon let Bran go, the youngest Stark bounced off to the young girl standing a little of to the side and hugged her around the middle with a grin.

It didn’t take Sansa much time to realize that this was Meera Reed, the daughter of lord Howland Reed. Rickon had told her about how young Meera and her brother Jojen had had found them as they were fleeing from Theon Greyjoy, but it seemed that lord Reed had been right to think that his son was dead.

Sansa approached the girl. “Lady Meera, I am so sorry for your loss.” Sansa knew how hard it was to lose a sibling, but it must have been even harder for Meera, as she must have seen it happen as they had been traveling together.

The girl smiled at Sansa and there was a sadness in her eyes that Sansa had seen often in the looking glass. “Thank you, your grace. I appreciate that.” Meera curtsied with more grace than most of the ladies of the court could boast of, even in her furs.

It still felt strange to Sansa to be referred to as a Queen, but that had brought another thought to mind that hadn’t occurred to her before, how had Bran and Meera known that she and Jon were getting married?

They had gotten married as soon as Ramsay had been killed and the lords had arrived at Winterfell, and it wasn’t enough time for the news to travel of their marriage yet, so how had Bran known?

So much had been happening around the time when they had gotten the letter from Castle Black, that it hadn’t been a priority with Littlefinger just having been put to the sword and having to plan their wedding, and the arrival of the lords and Jon having to leave Winterfell to go south so soon after they gotten married, so she hadn’t really put a lot of thought into it, but now the more she thought about it, it didn’t make sense.

Sansa shook her head of the thought, she would ask Bran how he knew when he had some time to eat and rest, they must have been hungry from the journey.

She glanced back at Bran, who was watching her with a knowing look and a small smile. Sansa asked two guards to help Bran to his room, which she had made ready for him.

Lady Meera asked if she could see her father, and Sansa called one of the servants to lead her to her father´s chamber in the guest wing of the castle.

Both Sansa and Rickon waited until Bran had been able to bath and change his clothing before they entered his room to talk to him.

They found him sitting in bed with furs laid over his lap and waiting for them with a happy smile. Sansa turned to find a servant so that she could ask for food, but Bran interrupted her.

“Don’t worry Sansa, I already asked to have sent some food to my chamber.” She stared at her brother for a moment with wide eyes, but Bran just smiled and patted the bed beside him to indicate that she should sit there beside him.

Rickon ran from her side and climbed into bed with a grin, and Sansa decided to follow and sat down. “How are you?” She asked her little brother with concern in her voice.

“I am fine Sansa; don’t you worry about me.” Bran laced his fingers together in his lap. “I believe congratulations are in order though.” He said still smiling at her.

“Thank you,” She knew that he was talking about her marriage to Jon, but she had to know. “But how did you know? Around the time when you wrote your letter, only the people here in Winterfell knew about the betrothal, and they had just found out.”

“Was it the greendreams that Jojen told you about?” Rickon asked with curiosity in his voice as he stared at his big brother with his big blue eyes.

Greendreams? What was that? She looked at Bran who nodded at Rickon. “Yes, it is I suppose, but a little different from yours I imagine.” Rickon had these greendreams? Wait, was that what the dreams Rickon was having when he had dreamt of their father, mother and brother dying?

Bran took one of her hands in his and he then launched into explaining who he had known she had Jon had decided to marry, and the dreams Rickon was having. At the end of Bran´s tale her head was spinning with all this new impossible information. But then again, her husband had stepped out of his own funeral pyre with four dragons and she and her siblings and her husband apparently could enter the mind of animals and control them.

“But you will be the lord of Winterfell now, right?” Rickon asked his brother and Sansa could see that Rickon was half hoping that Bran would say yes.

“I am afraid not, Winterfell is yours Rickon. I am the three eyed raven now, and the three eyed raven doesn’t rule anything, he just watches.” Bran said as he gently ruffled Rickon´s red hair. “You will be a much better lord than I ever could be.”

Bran had told them in the letter he had sent them, that he wouldn’t be taking up the mantle of the lord of Winterfell, in favor of Rickon, and to Sansa he seemed determined to follow through with his decision.

Rickon sighed and crossed his arms. “Fine.” Sansa reached over and pulled her little brother into her lap, making him giggle.

Then there was a knock on the door, and Bran called for the person to come in. Maester Wolkan entered the chamber. “Your grace, there was a letter from White Harbor for you.”

Sansa took it and read it over, as she finished reading, she started to feel a little nervous, but also a little curious. It seemed that the next two weeks would be busy for them.

She placed the letter in a pocket of her dress and hugged Rickon close to her chest. “Well lord Stark, it seems that we are about to entertain a princess and a representative of the Iron bank.” Rickon sent her an inquisitive look, but Bran smiled knowingly at her.

She had a feeling that the knowing looks would grow old really fast.

DAENERYS

She stood on the balcony of her large chamber and out into the bay that had formerly been called Slavers bay and she felt a hot breeze gently caress her face.

But after she and Drogon had burned the fleet of the slavers to the bottom of the sea, she had decided to rename the bay, the bay of Drogon, after her dearest child.

Even all the way here, she thought that she could hear the groaning of wood as the ships broke apart in the water, and smoke was still rising high in the air. Drogon was still flying above the city, roaring as he went, warning the people of Meereen not to cross him.

She felt pride rise in her chest as she looked at him, flying there overhead in sky above the city that she had conquered, like her forefather Aegon the dragon had done three centuries ago.

Dany had never felt so powerful as when she had flown on the back of her dragon, setting fire to the slaver´s fleet. More than two thirds of the fleet had sunk to the bottom of the bay, or were in the process of sinking, and she had to admit that she enjoyed the sight of her great victory.

Some of the ships and the soldiers farthest out in the bay had managed to escape, but they were only few. That had been deliberate on Dany´s part, she wanted them to go out in the world and tell people of what happened when they crossed the Dragon Queen.

She would have preferred to have captured more ships, but Drogon had been so angry at the slave masters betrayal that he had been worth on her behalf and attacked the ships without any mercy.

Dany felt a sting at her temple, which caused her to wince. She walked back inside her chamber and took a glass that had been filled with a delicious red wine, and she took a large swing of the drink, in hopes it would help lessen the pain she was feeling.

Dany didn’t dare to ask anyone of her advisers for anything that could possibly help with the pain, she didn’t want to show any weakness around them. She didn’t trust the imp of Lannister, and she didn’t like the looks that her lord commander of the queen´s guard was always sending her.

Every time that Ser Barristan looked at her, he looked so sad and remorseful and she couldn’t stand it. Why on earth was he so sad? She had just come back and saved them all from certain death.

But it was Tyrion Lannister that worried her more than the old knight did. She didn’t like how he always seemed to be waiting for her to make some sort of mistake, well he would have to wait a long time for she wasn’t about to make any mistakes anytime soon.

She knew that he would betray her as soon as he got the chance, but for now he was useful to her, so she would let him stay and serve her.

Dany heard the sound of slippers on the floor and she could see Missandei walk over to her with a lovely lavender color dress that was made of the finest silk and Myrish lace.

Her dear friend helped her dress and style her hair in the Dothraki style with silver bells to signify her victory over the fleet of the slave masters, and the fact she now had forty thousand Dothraki riders in her army, ready to help her take her birthright back, but first things first.

“Have they all assembled in the council chamber?” Dany asked the former slave as she looked at herself in the large looking glass. Dany looked at her now short silver hair, it only reached just below her earlobes after Missandei had cut all the burned ends off, as most of her hair had burned when she had first mounted Drogon in the fighting pits.

She couldn’t help but to feel annoyed at seeing it so short again, she had just won a great victory and it should have been longer, but short hair for a short while, was a sacrifice that she was willing to make for this victory that she had won.

It didn’t matter that she had short hair, she was still the most beautiful woman in the world, and the mother of dragons.

“Yes, Khalessi they have all arrived.” Daenerys smiled, that was good, she needed to talk to them about her plans, but she felt a stab of pain in her temple again and she tried to hide it the best she could.

These headaches were getting annoying, she had only recently started to have them, and she had no idea why she was getting them.

After Missandei had helped her dress and put on her golden bracelets and a necklace that had a roaring dragon on it and a sweet-smelling perfume, her friend brought her golden and silver crown that had the three heads of Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion on it made in onyx, jade and ivory.

Dany looked at her image in the looking glass and she smiled at what she saw, she was the very image of a Targaryen Queen and a conqueror.

They headed out the door and they were met with the sight of Ser Barristan as he guarded her room, he nodded silently at her.

Dany walked on ahead with her Lord Commander of the queen´s guard and her adviser following her to the council chamber. The walk wasn’t a long and they entered the room and all of her advisers were assembled there.

The Imp was dressed in his costumery red and gold jerkin and black trousers and he was looking particularly ugly this day with his large scar that had taken his nose of his face.

Greyworm was there as well dressed in his usual Unsullied regalia, and Daario was there as well with his blue forked beard and cheap leathers.

They all stood up and greeted her as she glided into the room and took the seat at the head of the table. As she walked, she could feel Daario´s eyes on her and she knew that he was looking at her with lust in his eyes, and she couldn’t help but to feel powerful.

When she had taken her seat, she noticed that Tyrion had glanced at her with lust in his eyes as well, but he lacked the wonder and devotion in his eyes and that irritated her more that she could say.

“Well then let´s start.” She said as her advisers sat down. The imp started to give a long report on the finances of the city and Dany could feel the irritation mount in her gut.

She glanced at Daario, who rolled his eyes and reached for the pitcher of wine and poured himself a cup. When he saw her looking at him, he winked at her playfully.

Dany felt that the small man was speaking for eternity, and only to herself she could admit that she understood nothing of what the man was saying. But she would never her advisers that, they could never see her as weak.

When there was a lull in his report, Dany took the change to speak. “Thank you, lord Tyrion. I am sure that you will do what is needed for my city.”

Dany felt anger boil in her gut as she could see anger flash in the small man´s eyes, how dare he have the gall to be angry at her?

For a moment she wanted to punish him, but she decided against that, she had more important things to talk about that the Imp.

“Have there been any news of Rhaegal and Viserion?” Dany asked her council, and when they all started to look sheepish, she felt the anger rumble in her belly again.

She took a deep breath to calm herself down, and she could smell the ash and smoke from the bay through the open window.

“Your grace,” She looked at Daario who addressed her, and there was a hungry glint in his eyes. “I urge you to take your armies to Westeros now, you have a dragon and the largest army in the known world.” Dany had to admit that this was an attractive option.

“And how will her grace transport forty thousand Dothraki, eight thousand Unsullied, two thousand second sons and their horses?” Tyrion asked and leaned back in his chair.

An ugly frown appeared on Daario´s face. “The Queen has acquired ships after the battle, I am sure that they can be used.”

Dany glanced at Tyrion Lannister; did he think that the ships that they had gotten from the slavers were enough for them to transport the army?

The look the small man sent Daario told her otherwise. “We only have one fourth of the ships of the slave masters and that is not nearly enough. Not to mention we would need supplies to feed fifty thousand men and thousands of horses, on the long voyage to Westeros.” Dany could feel her heart drop to her stomach.

Daario opened his mouth to reply but Dany stopped him. “Enough, lord Tyrion is right.” It killed her to say this, but she knew that she couldn’t leave the bay of Drogon, not until Rhaegal and Viserion returned to her.

She couldn’t just leave when they might return at any moment, and at any rate, she had unfinished business here.

Dany looked over the council as they stared at her. “I will not leave the bay of Drogon until Rhaegal and Viserion return to me, as I am sure that they will soon.” Tyrion and Ser Barristan were looking happy with her decision, but she could see the disappointed look on Daario.

“We have unfinished business here in the bay of Drogon.” At Dany´s statement everyone looked at one another with bewilderment. “The slave masters of Astapor and Yunkai have attacked us and I will not let that go unpunished.”

She paused for a moment for effect before she continued. “Make preparations for us to march to Astapor and Yunkai, we will attack as soon as possible.”

Chapter Text

WILLAS

If he had been any other man, he would have thrown all the things to the floor, that were occupying his desk, or rather his father´s desk, but thankfully Mace Tyrell never really used it as Willas was the one who saw too the day to day function of the Reach.

Ever since Willas had reached majority, his father had left the ruling to Willas, while taking all the credit for his hard work, even though not one of the Reach lords believed him.

Willas hadn’t been this angry since he had taken the fall in the tourney that fateful day many years ago. He could feel the fury burn in his veins all though his body and he wanted to take his cane and start striking the delicate statues that littered the solar of the lord of Highgarden.

But Willas had better control of himself than that, his grandmother had taught him better than to lose his control over the stupidity of his father.

Willas had ordered his men to take his father and siblings straight back to Highgarden, but it was clear to him that Mace Tyrell had ordered them to take him to Storm´s End instead.

If the lord of Highgarden ordered the men to take him and his children to the Stormlands, the men were bound by oaths to obey, even if they knew that Willas wanted them in Highgarden.

And now his father had effectively handed himself and two of his children over to this Aegon character who claimed to be the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell.

Willas snorted at that, everyone knew that prince Aegon had died at the sacking of King´s Landing, his tiny head had been crushed by the Mountain, just before he had raped Aegon´s mother with the boy´s blood still on his hands.

No one in their right mind would believe that this boy was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, especially when he had just shown up in the Stormlands with the Golden Company in tow.

The Golden Company would never support a Targaryen, they were famous for their hatred of the Targaryen line and for supporting Blackfyres, so it would make more sense that this Aegon was a secret Blackfyre rather than a secret Targaryen.

There was also the fact that he had landed in the Stormlands, rather than Dorne, that supported Willas´s theory. Landing in the middle of the Stormlands and taking Storm´s End wasn’t the best strategic move that Willas could think of, not if Aegon really was the son of Elia.

No, if he really was Elia´s and Rhaegar´s son, then he would have found support in Dorne with his Martell family, as the boy had landed in Westeros before Dorian Martell had been murdered.

No, this boy wasn’t a Targaryen, of that Willas was sure.

Willas glanced at the letter his father had sent him, demanding Willas to mobilize their men and to send them to the Stormlands, so that they could link up with the Golden Company and march to the capitol and take the city in Aegon´s name.

But the only reason Willas would ever send the men to the Stormlands would be to lay siege to the castle of the Stormlords of Storm´s End to get his siblings and empty-headed father again. but as much as he wanted his family home again, he wouldn’t be doing that either.

A siege was never a good idea, as they took too long and left them venerable, like Robb Stark had taught the Lannister army at Riverrun, when the young wolf had broken the siege at the castle.

No, he had a better idea in mind, and that was to contact the Stormlords that had their strongholds all around the castle of the Baratheons and work with them to get his family back.

There was a knock on the door and a servant walked in telling him that his grandmother was waiting for him in the garden.

Willas grabbed his cane and limped his way out of the castle, to the corner of the garden where his grandmother delighted to sit and ponder. He could feel the stabbing pain shot through his leg with every step and he was glad when he finally reached his destination.

His grandmother´s corner was filled with sweet smelling yellow roses and lavenders and it had ornate table and chairs. The table was filled with all sorts of fruit, and wine from the Arbor, but as always, his grandmother was nibbling on a fig, and beside her was Willas´s younger brother, Ser Garlan Tyrell. Garlan was just like Loras in looks but just a little taller and broader in built and had a tidy beard chopped close to his face.

Willas took a seat beside Olenna Tyrell, his grandmother was a woman of sixty years and she was very small and had white hair that was hidden under her head scarf.

She fixed her cunning eyes on him. “Well?” And Willas couldn’t help but to sigh at her demand, he had a feeling that she already knew what had been written in the letter from his father.

“Father married Margaery to this Aegon and wants me to send the army of the Reach to the Stormlands to link up with the Golden company so that they can take the capitol.” His grandmother stared at him before she snorted at his father´s stupidity.

“There are more days than not, I wonder if Mace is really my son.” She threw the half-finished fig on a plate decorated with golden roses and grabbed a cup with wine and took a small sip from it, as his little brother snorted with laughter at her words.

Olenna Tyrell shot Willas a glance. “If you have any wits about you, you will not be sending the army to this Aegon character unless you are going to war against him.”

Willas rolled his eyes at her. “Of course not, I will not lead the men to a slaughter.” That was what would happen to their men if they went to the Stormlands. This Aegon and his Golden company were locked in by the Stormlords, and they in turn had Dorne to the south, the Crownlands to the north, the Narrow sea to the east.

It would be much easier for Willas to try to work with the Stormlords to get his family back than rushing to the Stormlands like bull, even if that took more time.

Olenna Tyrell reached out her small frail hand to pat his. “No, you are not as dumb as your father,” Willas snorted at the double-edged complement.

“Grandmother, have you heard from your people?” Willas leaned a little on the table and tried to keep a winch from his face as a sharp pain flared up his leg.

“Yes, my people in the Riverlands are still singing the same song of dragons to the north.” She took another sip of wine. “But I haven’t heard anything from the north itself, I only know that Sansa Stark and her cousin Jon Targaryen left White Harbor with an army and four dragons, and the crown of Aegon the conqueror on the boy´s head.” He could see that Garlan was worried about this news, as he squirmed in his chair.

Willas raised an eyebrow at that, this Jon Targaryen must be impressive indeed if the northern lords had declared for him with the last name Targaryen, and where had the boy gotten four dragons and the crown of Aegon the conqueror?

“Are you sure that he really is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen?” Garlan asked their grandmother.

Olenna shot Garlan look, but this was a lot more heated than the one Willas had received before. “Of course I am sure, we were all surprised when Ned Stark claimed that he had fathered a bastard, it is a lot more believable that he had took his sister´s trueborn child and claimed it as his own to protect him from Robert.”

From what Willas had heard about Ned Stark, it was a lot more believable story than him having been unfaithful to his wife. But what had the man intended to do with the boy?

“So,” Willas began as he rubbed his temple. “We have trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen who now has the north backing him, a Targaryen pretender in the Stormlands who is married to Margaery and then there is Daenerys Targaryen in Essos who might very well come here to claim the iron throne.”

“So it would seem.” Said their grandmother as she took another sip of Arbor gold. They sat there in silence for a few moments before Garlan spoke.

“So, are we supporting this Aegon? Even though he is not the son of Rhaegar and Elia?” His brother´s eyes went quickly from their grandmother to Willas then back again, waiting for an answer. 

But their grandmother shot Garlan another irritated look. “If you are going to ask stupid questions, I think that it is better if you do not say anything at all.” Garlan looked like a little boy again, their grandmother had that effect on people. No one liked being on the receiving end of her barbed tongue.

“We need to get my oaf of a son and your siblings away from this Aegon character so that we can salvage this situation.” She picked up the fig again and started to nib at it, deep in thought.

“First we must examine what we know.” Willas stated as he poured himself some Arbor gold into a cup that had the golden roses of house Tyrell, stamped into it. He placed the jug back on the table and took a small sip from the cup. “We know that if the stories about this Jon Targaryen are true and that he really does have dragons, that he really is the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna and therefore the true heir to the throne.”

Their grandmother stared at Willas with approval in her gaze as she nodded for him to continue. “We also know that Margaery has married this Aegon character and that the marriage was consummated, according to the letter from father.”

Garlan shot Willas a look. “How can we be so sure that this Aegon isn’t the real one and that this Jon is actually a trueborn son?”

Olenna Tyrell shot him an annoyed look, which Willas had to admit that he found unfair of her. Garlan was by no means unintelligent, and he was asking legitimate questions that had to be asked, but Olenna was an impatient woman who had never suffered it well, being questioned in her long and eventful life.

“According to my people Jon Targaryen or Aenar as his mother wanted to call him, has proof that Rhaegar married his Lyanna, and he has a letter from Elia stating that she approved of the marriage.” Their grandmother said impatiently with irritation in her tone. But Willas had a feeling that the irritation wasn’t at Garlan.

Ever since Willas could remember their grandmother had always spouted on and on about the oddness of the Targaryens and he had a feeling that it was because of the betrothal that had fallen through between her and Daeron Targaryen, the fourth son of Aegon the fifth.

While Olenna always said that she hadn’t wanted the match, Willas had a feeling that she wasn’t being entirely truthful about the matter.

She stated too often and too loudly that she had been the one to truly had ended the betrothal and that made the warning bells in Willas´s head start to ring loudly.

His grandmother brought Willas out of his thoughts again as she spoke to Garlan. “And this Aegon had done nothing but to undermine his own argument by bringing the Golden company to Westeros and ignoring Dorne, the land of his supposed mother, where he would have gotten support if he really was the son of Elia Martell.”

Garlan sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t know that this Jon had proof of his parentage and when you put it in context like that, it seems oblivious.”

There was silence for a moment before Garlan spoke again. “What do you intend to do then? If we cannot support our sister to be the Queen?”

Willas could see that Olenna wanted to throw her cup at Garlan´s head as he boney finger´s clenched around the cup. “And what makes you think that Margaery won’t be Queen? Humm?!” Willas could feel dread rise in his stomach, he had a feeling that this would turn to be another scheme to make Margaery into a Queen.

Ever since she had been a little girl, their grandmother and father had been grooming her to become the Queen, that was one of the great ambitions of their family to have their blood one day sit on the iron throne.

Some of the members of house Tyrell felt that they were looked down upon as they didn’t have the long line of nobility as many of the other houses, as the Tyrells had been stewards of the Gardener kings before Aegon´s conquest.

“Grandmother,” Willas began. “do you intend to offer Jon Targaryen, Margaery´s hand in marriage in exchange for support?” Willas could see the dread in Garlan´s eyes at his question.

Margaery was already married to this Aegon and their marriage had been consummated, so she wouldn’t exactly be as an attractive option to this Jon Targaryen as she might have been, and the young man might take offence if they demanded that he should marry Margaery, who was no longer a virgin in exchange for their support.

Olenna huffed and took another sip of her wine. “Humm, you think me so dumb as too demand something of a man with four dragons? No, Willas.” She placed the cup back on the table before fixing her eyes on him. “Margaery will become a widow soon enough I am sure, young men die at war all the time, and then she will be free to marry again, but one never knows that when we meet this son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, that he might be charmed by our lovely Margaery and will want her for his Queen.”

Willas closed his eyes in expiration at her words. “And what does she know about charming dragons?” He asked her, letting her hear his irritation at her and her schemes.

Olenna huffed again. “One man is just like any other, this northern Targaryen will not be hard for her to charm, especially when Margaery was so kind to little Sansa Stark.” She was grinning like a cat at her own intelligence and foresight to have been kind to a girl who had been held hostage by the Lannisters.

Willas glanced at Garlan and he could see the exhaustion on his face, but their meeting was interrupted by the maester.

They could hear the sound of chains long before they saw him come running to them, and he seemed out of breath and his cheeks were red. “My lords, my lady I have news.” He said as he tried to get a hold on his breathing.

“Well, spit it out man.” Their grandmother demanded.

Willas could now see the terrified glint in the older man´s eyes. “There has been an attack on the Shield Islands, and they fear that the attackers may go on to eventually attack Oldtown.”

They all stared at the man. “Who attacked them?” Willas asked and he couldn’t hide the surprise and anger in his tone.

“It was Euron Greyjoy.”

JON

He was standing on a hill, overlooking the small wooden town of Barrowton, it was built on a hill called the great barrow and it was surrounding the castle of Barrowhall. The town itself wasn’t large and neither was the castle, but it was the last stronghold of resistance against him in the north, and therefore Jon needed to take it.

Over the town and castle flew the banner of lady Dustin, it had a spiked crown on top of the crossed long axes of house Dustin and the golden horse head of her father, the late lord Ryswell.

Even from this distance he could hear the calls and yells from the town as they observed the army of more than twenty-five thousand at their gates and the two large dragons fly overhead, roaring and playing in the air.

Twenty thousand knights of the Vale had followed him south from Winterfell, and five thousand northern men who had been a part of the army taking back Winterfell, and around five hundred freefolk that had wanted to follow him to war.

Many of the freefolk that had followed him south, had been there when he had stepped out of the funeral pyre with the dragons, and now they believed him to be blessed by the old gods.

Jon had decided not to argue about being blessed by the old gods, as he needed all the help, he could get to take the Iron Throne and unite the seven kingdoms.

Jon glanced to his side where Ghost was standing beside him and looking to the town as well, like he was observing prey before he decided if he was going to attack or not. Jon placed his hand on the head of his oldest living friend, and gave him a pat, which made the white wolf wag his tail like a pup in happiness.

Jon was glad that Ghost and the dragons were getting along so well as they had been doing ever since he had stepped out of the pyre those months ago. At first Jon had been afraid that Ghost wouldn’t like them, but his fears had been proven unfounded, as the large white direwolf had taken a shine to both the smaller dragons and the larger ones, and they to him.

“Your grace.” As Jon heard Ser Brynden´s gruff voice, the king turned around to look at the older man. His wife´s grand uncle had taken it upon himself along with Edric Strong from the Stormlands, to make sure that there were always guards stationed around Jon for his protection. Jon glanced at the two guards that were standing like statues in their Targaryen northern armor, that were guarding him in case anything should happen. “Your tent is ready, and the lords have gathered in the command tent.”

Jon nodded and they headed to the command tent, where they could discuss the next course of action. He was sure that some of the more angry and eager lords would want to burn down the castle and lady Dustin with it, but Jon wasn’t eager to do that, as it was most likely would be filled with innocents who had nothing to do with any of this.

As Jon and the blackfish walked over to the command tent, Ghost followed them silently like a pale shadow, ever intent on keeping Jon safe.

The command tent was the largest of all the tents and it was very close to Jon´s own tent, that was black with the roaring red three headed dragon of house Targaryen.

Even after seeing the proof of his parentage with his own eyes in White Harbor, he was still getting used to the fact that he was now a part of house Targaryen. But he was glad that he was, he had gotten a lot that he wouldn’t have gotten otherwise.

He had gotten a new cousin in Shireen, and even though the Stark siblings were now his cousins, he loved them like siblings; well, all except Sansa, he loved her, but it wasn’t like a brother loved a sister.

These past days on the road to war had made him miss Sansa and their family that was now in Winterfell, and he had grown to realize on the way south that he indeed loved Sansa, he wasn’t sure that he was in love with her, but Jon was sure that it was only a matter of time until he was.

He missed her so much and all he wanted to do was to hop on Rhaegal´s back and fly to Winterfell to see her. But he knew that he couldn’t do that, he owed it to the men to travel with them and help to keep their spirits up.

Jon and Ser Brynden entered the tent, to see that all the lords had already entered and were waiting for them. Even Tormund was there drinking ale with a grin on his face as he was talking to Edric Strong.

Tormund had insisted on coming with them to lead the freefolk that had traveled south with the army, while Val was leading the freefolk in the gift.

Jon could see that the red headed freefolk´s leader was making the lords of the north like him, despite the fact that their people had been enemies for thousands of years. Jon could see that the Flint of the mountain clans and the Liddle and the Wull were trying their hardest not to laugh at his jokes and antics, but it was clear that they were failing, especially when Tormund started on about his love for Ser Brienne.

Jon sat down on one of the chairs by the large table that had been placed in the middle of the tent, and Satin hurried to hand him a mug of ale which Jon took gratefully.

“Has the crate been made secure?” Jon asked his friend and steward. The young man nodded at Jon, confirming that the crate holding the proof that they needed of the army of the dead.

As Jon took his seat, the others hurriedly took their seats as well, Jon spotted Lady Maege Mormont sitting down beside Tormund. The Freefolk admired the lady of bear island greatly for as she was the leader of her people which they knew was rare for a woman to do, south of the wall.

“So, king crow, are we doing the same thing as in Winterfell?” Tormund asked as he took a swing of ale then slammed the mug to the table, Jon could see that some of the froth had stayed on the fiery red bread.

“No, we don’t have the element of surprise with Rhaegal and Viserion as in the battle for Winterfell.” Jon replied as he rubbed his breaded chin.

He could hear the murmur of agreement from the lords gathered around the table.

Then lord Royce spoke up. “Well, we cannot just burn the town and the castle to the ground,” He turned to Jon and he could see the uncertainty in his eyes, but the lord of Runestone knew that Jon didn’t want to start burning castles and towns if he could help it. “We could start building siege weapons.” The lord of Runestone suggested, and Jon could see that many of the lord were agreeing with them.

Jon glanced at the red headed freefolk leader as he asked how they would do that, as the man had never seen siege weapons in action, when he had an idea that could work, but it would take nerves of steel for those involved.

“My lords,” Jon said as he looked over the assembled lords. “I think that we should start on building the siege weapons, but we should also send lady Dustin word that we want to discuss the terms of her surrender.”

Jon could see that most of the lords seemed happy that he would be planning for both situations, much to his relief, as he needed them on his side. If Jon could help it there would be no blood spilled, but he had a feeling that lady Dustin wouldn’t give up without a fight.

But he could see that Ser Lyn Corbray wasn’t looking very happy with his decision.

“Your grace,” The tall brunet shook his hair out of his face as he addressed Jon, and the second son of Rhaegar Targaryen could see the dislike in Ser Lyn´s eyes as the man looked at him. “Are you sure that it is wise to enter into talks with that woman? Wouldn’t it be better if we just attack now?”

Jon could see the irritated look that Ser Brynden and lord Royce shot the younger man, it was clear to Jon that the older men didn’t like Ser Lyn.

“We will start by trying to negotiate their surrender.” Jon said in a firm voice as he stared down the Corbray heir.

The man opened his mouth to protest but lord Redfort´s heir jabbed the man in his side to silence him. Even though Ser Lyn took the hint and quieted down, he could see that the Corbray heir wasn’t happy with having to be quiet.

Jon could feel that the meeting would be a long one.

ARYA

She knew that she wasn’t a long way from the Twins, but it would still take her some time to reach the place where her mother and older brother had been brutally murdered. Her horse had gotten spooked an hour ago by something and bolted into the forest and she was sure that she would never see the horse again, so it would take her a longer time than normally to reach her destination.

Arya adjusted her belt where she kept her sword, Needle. She loved that sword; it had been given by her by her brother Jon.

No matter the rumors that she had first heard in the inn at Maidenpool and then heard ever since as she had started her journey up to the Twins, that Jon was the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and her aunt Lyanna Stark, Jon was still her big brother who had always made time for her and comforted her when she needed it.

She trekked through the forest, with her head filled with thoughts about the rumors that she had heard, and she was still having a hard time believing them, it seemed so strange to think of Jon as the rightful king of the seven kingdoms, and having four dragons.

But Arya knew that Jon had dreamed of being a trueborn Stark all his life, and if anyone deserved to find out that they were a secret prince, it was her brother Jon who had always been so kind to her when they were growing up.

The people at the inn had said that he had been crowned king by the northern lords, which Arya found strange, as the northern lords hated the Targaryens after what Aerys had done to her uncle Brandon and her grandfather Rickard, and how Rhaegar had kidnapped her aunt Lyanna.

But if what they said that Jon was the trueborn son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, had the prince of Dragonstone really kidnapped her? or had they runaway together?

Arya´s father had told her that Lyanna had been promised to Robert Baratheon when she had disappeared, so Arya didn’t really blame her if she had runaway, as the Stag king had been revolting and no self-respecting woman would want to marry that.

But Arya was glad that at least that Sansa had found Jon and together they were trying to get Winterfell back from the Boltons. Arya couldn’t help but to wonder what Sansa was like now, she could remember hearing her sister´s anguished screams when Joffrey had ordered their father´s head to be cut off.

Arya couldn’t imagine that Sansa would have loved that prat after that, Arya had also heard rumors that Sansa had a hand in Joffrey´s death and that she had turned to a bat and flown away after the murder.

That rumor made Arya laugh as she pictured Sansa laugh evilly and turn into a bat after killing Joffrey.

But she hoped that they were both alright, as they were the last family that she had in this world. She resolved to walk faster to reach the Twins as fast as she could, after that she would be heading north to find her family, Cersei could wait until Arya had met Jon and Sansa again.

It was then she heard a snap of a twig. She spun around, dragging Needle from her belt and pointed the sword at whatever had made the noise.

Arya felt her heart jump into her throat as she saw what had made the noise, it was a grey wolf that stood between two trees and stared at her with his amber eyes, while snarling at her.

But she didn’t have a long time to think as another wolf appeared from the trees, then another and another. A dozen wolfs stood there snarling at her with their eyes flashing, and she couldn’t help but to find it strange that this may be the way she would die, being ripped apart by wolfs, oh the irony, she thought to herself.

As she thought that, the voice of her dancing master echoed through her skull, what do you say to the god of death?

No today.

She gripped the hilt of her beloved Needle and took up the stance, if she would have to go down, she would take some of them with her.

Then she saw it, out of the shadow of the trees a much bigger from appeared. Dark grey with golden eyes and much bigger than she had seen her last, when Arya had chased her away to save her life, but she recognized her immediately.

Nymeria stepped out of the shadows and Arya felt the dread flee from her. Arya lowered her sword and placed it back in her belt as the large direwolf continued closer to her, not once taking her eyes of her.

Arya had been having dreams of Nymeria since she had gotten her all those years ago, and even though Arya had left her here in the Riverlands when they had been going to King´s landing, they hadn’t stopped. Arya had dreamt of hunting with the other direwolfs when they had been pups, and then the pack of their smaller grey cousins all through the Riverlands.

“Nymeria.” Arya whispered softly as the dark grey direwolf approached her, and the large creature gave a soft whine in return. Arya held out her hand and Nymeria closed the distance between them and sniffed at her outstretched hand.

Then the large direwolf started to waggle her tail in happiness and came even closer and started to lick her face, making Arya laugh and throw her arms around Nymeria´s neck and bury her face in her grey fur.

It was a long time since Arya had felt so happy, in fact the last time she had felt true happiness was when Jon had given her Needle, those years ago.

After hugging Nymeria close to her for a while she leaned back, and she could see that the other wolfs had stopped their snarling and were now just staring at them and waiting with curiosity written all over the canine faces.

Arya turned her grey eyes back to Nymeria. “I am going back home, girl.” Arya rubbed the direwolf´s chin as she spoke to her. “Do you want to come with me?”

Arya hoped with all her heart that Nymeria would come with her, in these short moments Arya had felt more like her old self than she had since her father had been killed.

The only reply Arya got from her friend was a lick on the cheek, and as Arya laughed again, feeling the ruff wolf´s tongue on her skin, she knew that she had her answer.

Chapter Text

RODRIK

He could feel the nervousness rush in his veins as they rode closer to the meeting point where lady Dustin would be meeting with the new Targaryen King. Rodrik could still feel the burning agony that had consumed the left side of his face and his left arm, he never wanted to face the wrath of a dragon again but here he was on the way to the negotiations.

He had to admit that he was surprised that the lady of Barrowton had personally asked for him to accompany the delegation. Rodrik had wanted nothing more than to tell the captain of the guards that he would rather be recovering at his home in Barrowton, but when a lady asked for you to come, you better obey.

Rodrik had only once talked to the lady Dustin and that was when she had come to the see all the injured men and asked them what they had seen at the battle of Winterfell.

Even though he had been in unspeakable amount of pain, he could still remember the look of cold fury on her face when he had told her the same story of what had happened on the day of the dragons as the rest of her men.

Rodrik had told her when Ramsay Snow had tried to shoot young lord Stark as the little boy ran towards the new Targaryen King, that two enormous dragons had come roaring from the sky and the pale and golden one had burned most of her cavalry along with the cavalry of the Boltons.

That was all Rodrik remembered from the battle itself, as he had gotten injured in the first onslaught by the pale dragon and did remember anything until he had woken up in a cart, on his way to Barrowton along with his fellow surviving cavalry men.

On the way back his superior officer had told him that the King had disarmed them all and sent them back home.

Rodrik couldn’t help but to be confused by that decision of the new King, wouldn’t it be better for him to just kill all the soldiers so that the lady of Barrowton didn’t have any left to defend the town with?

Then again, maybe with the two dragons on his side, the King had decided that he really didn’t need to, as dragons could just easily burn the town down to the ground.

Rodrik´s father had served in the rebellion under the late lord Dustin, and he had told his son all about Harrenhall when he had returned. His father had told him how the great castle had melted under the heat of the flames of Balerion the black dread, and now that Rodrik had felt dragon fire on his own skin, he could believe it.

He was still in pain from the injuries that he had sustained from the golden flames of the pale dragon, but he was slowly recovering. But he would never again see anything from his left eye and his movement in his left arm was very limited now. But he was one of the lucky ones, he had been far away so that he had survived the infernal flames, when so many had turned to ash.

Rodrik wasn’t sure what he would do now after this, as he couldn’t very well serve in the guard with only one eye and one working arm and he didn’t have any trade that he could use to help to bring in coin for his family.

All the men in his family had served in the guards and the cavalry of house Dustin for generations now, but now the only family that he had was his mother who was still grieving for the loss of her husband.

His father had survived the rebellion, but lady Dustin had sent him south with Robb Stark to fight the Lannisters. Rodrik had begged the commander that lady Dustin had left in charge, to take him instead, as his father was getting on in years and Rodrik was still young and strong, but the commander had refused, saying that he wanted men of experience.

His father had sent them a letter with one of the traders heading north when he had been in Riverrun. It was an unusual for a guard to know how to read and write but Rodrik´s grandfather had saved one of late lord Dustin´s uncles and in return he had been taught how to read, something that he had taught his son and Rodrik´s father had taught him.

Making it much easier for them to know how each other was doing as Rodrik´s father was in the Riverlands.

But after the young wolf had returned to Riverrun, they hadn’t heard anything, all they knew was his father would be following the young wolf north to the Twins to attend a wedding then they would be making their way north to attack Moat Cailin.

Rodrik could feel his new horse get nervous and agitated as they got closer to the meeting spot, he did his best to calm the horse down, but with only one good hand it was rather difficult for him.

He glanced at the lady of Barrowton and her serjeant Beron, and Rodrik could see the anger on their faces grow more and more severe with every step of that their horses took.

Sooner then he would have liked, they reached the delegation of the Targaryen King. The King was a tall and handsome man of maybe nineteen years, he had the famous coloring of the Starks and the crown on his head that was made of dark rippled steel and square cut rubies that shone in the early morning sun.

And beside him were many lords and knights, Rodrik could see some banners that he knew from his father’s stories, but he had to admit that he didn’t know any of the southern banners but that one of house Arryn.

But one of the things that drew his eye was the great white direwolf that stood beside the King and his black stallion that was draped in the Targaryen colors. While the horses of the other lords were nervous at having to be so close to the wolf, the King´s black horse was as calm as he was feeding in the stables.

The King must have raised the horse with the wolf for him to be so calm around the white beast, Rodrik couldn’t see any other way for the young King to make his horse so calm around the large wolf.

They rode up to the King and his sworn lords, and Rodrik could feel the nervousness grow in his body as he started to glance up to the sky, he didn’t want to be subject to another attack from the dragons. But for now, they were nowhere in sight and Rodrik couldn’t decide if he felt better for it, or worse.

He could see that the King´s dark grey eyes that bore a striking resemblance to the steel of his own crown, started to look over the party of Barrowton. When his dark eyes turned to Rodrik, he could feel like the young King was boring into his soul with his eyes and he had to look away or the King would see all his secrets.

Rodrik had to be at least ten years older than the King, but when the young King turned to look at the guard, Rodrik had felt like a child that had been caught doing something naughty.

“Thank you for meeting us lady Dustin.” The King spoke in a measured but a polite tone and Rodrik couldn’t begin to fathom to even start what he was thinking at the moment.

But just as the young King had spoken the lady´s serjeant snorted angerly. “It is not like you are giving the lady a choice in the matter, if she had refused you would most likely just burned the town down with your dragons.”

Rodrik could see the anger in the King´s sworn lords’ eyes at Beron´s accusation, but he couldn’t see any anger in the young King´s. It was like the young man was made from stone.

“How dare you accuse the King of burning innocent people, you worm!?” A large man in clothing for the mountain clans spoke up as he shook his fist at the Serjeant. “King Jon did his best to save as many of the common soldiers that he could in the battle for Winterfell, and he only killed those that were rallying against us.”

The mountain clan leader that Rodrik didn’t know, was saying what his fellow guards had told him when he woke up in that cart on the way back to Barrowton. That the young King hadn’t been trying to kill the men who had not attacked, but just rounded the common soldiers up and took their weapons and then sent them home.

Rodrik could see the anger in the serjeant´s eyes at the man´s words, Beron was lady Dustin´s most trusted man, who was never far away from her and always whispering in her ear. There were rumors going around that they were lovers and had been since before lady Dustin had married the lord of Barrowton, as they were just as close as they had been when they had arrived at Barrowhall.

The serjeant had been one of her father’s men and had not left with lord Dustin to go to war in the rebellion, and he had stayed in Barrowhall with the new lady.

“And just where are your dragons? I would have thought that you would have brought them here, thinking you could intimidate us.” The smug tone in the serjeant´s voice and his words made Rodrik want to flee as fast as he could. If there was something that he didn’t want to do, it was meeting the dragons again.

“They are around.” The King said in a cold tone and stared at the serjeant with his piercing eyes.

That statement was followed by silence, before the lady of Barrowton spoke. “You asked us here to negotiate terms of surrender.” The handsome woman turned her nose up as she stared at the King. “What are they?”

Rodrik hoped with all his heart that they could reach an agreement as he didn’t want the King to burn down the town. Rodrik didn’t want the people to suffer like he himself had suffered.

He could see the King´s white direwolf stare at the woman, and Rodrik thought for a moment that he could see hate in the unnerving eyes of the beast.

“You have until sunrise tomorrow to surrender yourself and the town of Barrowton or we will have to take it by force so that you may answer for your crimes against the North and stand trial.” The King stated firmly as he continued to stare lady Dustin down.

Rodrik knew that if the lady of Barrowton hoped to survive the next few days, she would have to do as the King said, the army at their gate was rumored to be around thirty thousand strong and they had two large dragons that had already laid waste to armies before.

It would be madness to refuse.

“And what crimes are that?” The lady hissed at the young King and if her eyes could kill, the young man would be dead. “I will have you know, you Targaryen bastard that I have committed no crimes, I may have backed my good brother and lost, but I know that he would have been a better lord of the North than any of the Starks could hope to be, including the whelp and your whore.”

Rodrik stared at the woman, along with everyone else and soon every one of the lords that were sworn to the King were shouting profanities at the lady of Barrowton, not that Rodrik could blame them.

But they were soon silenced by an overwhelming roar that came from behind the King´s party. Another roar followed and they could hear the beating of enormous wings, before the two dragons appeared in the sky.

Rodrik could feel the fear grip him and he had to fight all his instincts to let the horse just run away like it clearly wanted to.

He had been there when the dragons had appeared over Barrowton, roaring as they went and causing panic, but the guards on duty had made sure that order had been restored before any damage could be done, but the people were all taking about fleeing the town or just overpowering the guards to let the army in and give the King the castle.

The people of Barrowton seemed convinced that the new King wouldn’t hurt them if they surrendered because he had been raised by Ned Stark, and even the small folk knew that he had been renowned for his honor.

Rodrik could see that something was clutched in the talons of the great green dragon that the King seemed to have claimed as his mount, according to the men who had survived the battle and been conscious long enough to see him mount the dragon.

The bigger dragon let the thing he was clutching drop to the ground and it was then he could see that it was a large brown bear.

As the bear crashed into the earth, the horses stated to panic, and it took everything that he had to calm his down. All the horses seemed upset with the dragons flying there, except for the King´s black stallion, who was still as calm as could be.

The corpse of the bear had landed close enough to startle the horses, but it was far enough to make sure that they didn’t throw their riders in their fright and bolt.

It was then when the dragons decided to land, the larger green dragon placed his forelimb on the carcass as he stared at the lady of Barrowton with bared black teeth, and the dragon gave a low growl before he picked up the corpse with his mouth and the other dragon, who had landed gracefully beside him, grabbed the other end of the bear, and together they ripped the large bear apart, causing Rodrik stomach to turn as he heard the ripping sound of skin and meat and the bones breaking as they were crushed under the black teeth of the King´s dragons.

“Lady Dustin,” Everyone turned to face the King, who had not once turned away too look at the dragons. “Your crimes are not only for siding with the Boltons in the battle for Winterfell, but also to have mislead King Robb when he had to march south to rescue his father from the Lannisters.”

Wait what was he talking about? Lady Dustin had sent men along with Robb Stark when he had gone south, even Rodrik´s father had gone with them.

The lady of Barrowton swell with anger. “I have no idea what you are talking about, and I do not have to stand for such lies.”

Lady Dustin made herself likely to turn her horse and ride away, but she was stopped by a short woman wearing the colors of house Mormont. “Oh really?” The short woman asked, her eyes spoke of such anger that Rodrik wasn’t sure which was more frightening, her or the dragons.

“We all know you sent only enough men so that you wouldn’t be questioned by King Robb, and the men you sent were all either greybeards or green boys. You never expected the men you sent south to come back because you were in on the plan to murder King Robb and betray house Stark.”

Rodrik stared at the woman, could what she was saying be the truth? Rodrik had begged to be sent in his father´s place but he had been denied much to his surprise. Could the reason be because the lady of Barrowton had expected the men she had sent south to die, and she hadn’t wanted to risk any able-bodied men?

But the King´s lords weren’t done, an older man with grey hair and beard with a black fish on a red and blue field spoke up. “You were in on the plan with Roose Bolton and the Lannisters to murder King Robb, that is why you sent only young boys and old men to die in the Riverlands.”

After a moment Rodrik recognized the sigil on his breast, the legendary Blackfish was glaring daggers at the woman in front of him as she stared back looking pale and fearful.

As Rodrik stared at the woman, he could feel it in his bones that what the Mormont woman and the fabled Blackfish had said was the truth. Lady Dustin had only sent the older men and untested boys south with the Stark heir, and even then, their numbers had been few. But in the battle for Winterfell, the cavalry had been made up of strong men and their numbers had been great, almost two thousand.

“Lady Dustin,” The King spoke again, bringing Rodrik out of his thoughts. “You have a choice, you can stubbornly refuse us and hold up in your castle, making us have to kill hundreds to get to you.” He started at the woman with his sharp eyes before he continued. “Or you can yield the town and castle and save hundreds of lives that don’t need to be ended, and stand trial for what you have done and I swear to you that if found guilty, you will be laid rest with honor and I will make sure that your husbands bones are found and brought to rest here with his ancestors.”

The King had barely let go of the last word when the lady Dustin shot back angerly. “I will never surrender to the likes of you,” She turned crimson with anger and her voice was steadily rising. “It is your fault that my husband died.”

Her eyes flashed with anger and she pointed her bone finger at the young man in front of her. “It is all your fault, and now you will pay for it, you will have to burn the castle and the town to get to me you filthy little bastard. I will be damned if I will let you keep your precious honor that your lying uncle no doubt beat into your head.”

After her tantrum she turned her horse and made it gallop away, even her serjeant looked surprised at her reaction and there was fear in his eyes.

The King turned to face the serjeant before he could rush after the lady. “You have until dawn tomorrow to change her mind, or we will attack.” The King´s eyes were sorrowful as he spoke those words and Rodrik had a feeling that he would rather not have to kill hundreds of people.

Then the King turned his horse and galloped away with the white wolf and his lords following him and as the King rode away, the bigger dragon let out a roar and took to the skies with the pale one following after him.

Rodrik and the other guards were all left on the small hill as they stared after the Targaryen King and his dragons, and Rodrik could feel the familiar fear seep into his soul, his mother was in Barrowton, and even if they ran away now, it wouldn’t be enough time for them to get away.

They then turned away and rode after their lady, Rodrik turned his good eye to his fellow guards and he could see the same fear in their eyes that he was feeling himself.

SER BRYNDEN

He hurried the best he could over to the King´s tent, while Lord Royce and The Wull were sending out guards to rouse the lords that had travelled with them to the Barrowlands.

Brynden hated the fact that he needed to wake the King as he had most likely only slept of two hours at most, because the planning had taken such long time. King Jon seemed to want to plan for every possible outcome that could happen.

The tent itself was ink black with the three headed dragon of house Targaryen proudly roaring on the sides. The King´s tent was close to the command tent so that the King would be faster there in situations such as these.

But behind the black tent of the King was an empty field that his dragons were currently using, as the pale dragon, Viserion was sleeping and the larger emerald one, the King´s mount, Rhaegal was keeping an eye out for any danger that might come their way.

Brynden had noticed that the dragons seemed to take turns sleeping ever since they had left Winterfell, and he couldn’t help but to be a little calmed by that. For he doubted that anyone would try and kill King Jon while the dragons were keeping watch.

He had heard too many stories about Kings and generals that were murdered on the eve of battle by someone sneaking into their tents, to rest comfortably until their enemies were all gone.

The blackfish knew that King Jon wanted to make peace with those he could so that they could all unite and defeat the Others and the dead, but Brynden was sure that they couldn’t make peace with everyone, the scars were just too deep, like the ones with Lady Dustin.

But he was sure that the King realized it as well, he was an intelligent man after all. In the battle of Winterfell, or the day of the dragons as many of the men were now calling it, the young King had shown cunning in hiding the larger dragons from everyone until he absolutely had to use them to save Rickon.

Had King Jon showed the dragons earlier, who might know what Ramsay Snow would have done in his panic. If Brynden was a betting man, he was sure that the Bolton bastard would have taken Rickon and hidden in Winterfell, knowing that King Jon wouldn’t burn down the castle with Rickon inside it.

Brynden walked over to the tent and nodded at the guards that were standing by the entrance, and let himself in. The tent was rather grand, and it made sense that it would be, as it had been given to the King by Lord Manderly.

Brynden doubted that King Jon would ever have commissioned a tent like this for himself, if anything the young man would probably be sleeping by the dragons if he could do as he wanted, but fortunately King Jon knew that it was expected of him to sleep in a grand tent, and he didn’t want to be rude to lord Manderly and throwing his gift in his face.

As Brynden entered the tent, he could see that the young steward, Satin was taking a nap in one of the King´s chairs and the knight couldn’t help but to smile. He liked the young man who had apparently followed King Jon and Brynden´s niece from Castle Black.

Sansa had spoken well of the young man, and she had told Brynden that apparently, he had fought valiantly in the battle for the wall and that was one of the reasons that Jon had picked him to be his steward.

Brynden woke the young man up from his nap, and the younger man jerked awake. Young Satin stared at Brynden with his dark eyes wide in shock. “Ser Brynden you startled me.”

Brynden had to fight a grin at the man´s words. “Sorry about that, but I need to speak with the King, a situation as arisen.”

The younger man´s eyes widened even more, and he jumped to his feet, and went to fetch the King who had probably been sleeping behind the curtain in the other end of the large tent.

As Brynden waited for the King to make his appearance, he looked around the large tent, it was similarly kept like how Robb had preferred his.

Thinking about Robb brought a sadness to his heart, his nephew had been a good man and a great commander, but as King the young wolf had been in over his head.

Robb had been so consumed with keeping the Westerling girl´s honor that he had scarified his by not keeping his word to Walder Frey and giving him a reason to back out of their alliance, even though Brynden had a feeling that old Walder had just been biding his time until Tywin could have moved against Robb.

Then there had been Catelyn´s betrayal of Robb when she had released the Kingslayer in exchange for the release of her girls, Brynden could understand her want to have her girls back, but that didn’t change the fact that she had betrayed Robb and undermined him in front of his lords.

And as long as Robb had held Jaime Lannister, Tywin couldn’t really move against him and Brynden doubted that the Red wedding could have happened if Robb had held the Kingslayer.

Tywin would never have risked the life of his favorite son by making such a heinous move, and as much as Brynden hated to admit it, Cat had sealed their deaths with releasing the Kingslayer.

But Robb had also made mistakes that had cost him the war, Robb had been too much like his father to appreciate the fact that one needed political savvy when one was fighting wars.

Ned had proved that he lacked any political instincts when he had been serving as hand in the capitol, Brynden had heard the rumors that had come pouring out of the capitol when Ned had been there and they weren’t reflecting well on the late lord of Winterfell.

Brynden was glad when the new Targaryen King came out from behind the cover and pulled him out of his thoughts.

The King was pulling on a black tunic as he walked into the main room of the tent, and Brynden could see a glimpse of the ugly scars that littered his chest. Seeing these made him shudder with horror, at first he had been skeptical that King Jon had returned from the dead, but when he had seen the scars on the day Littlefinger died, Brynden had been horrified to see the scars the King´s murderers had left on his body.

It had left no doubt in his mind that those wounds had caused death, and he was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that the man in front of him had died and come back.

“Ser Brynden, what is going on?” The King asked as he rubbed his temple, and Brynden could see that the man was exhausted.

Brynden could see that Satin come in a hurry with a black jerkin with the red dragon on the chest and hand it to the King before he went to the table to pour him a mug of water. “There is a delegation from Barrowton that has arrived, and they wish to speak to you.”

The King pulled on the jerkin and as he fastened it, he raised a dark eyebrow at Brynden´s words. “Really? Has Lady Dustin offered a counteroffer?” The young King rubbed his eyes before he spoke again. “Is it dawn already?”

Brynden couldn’t blame the young man for his confusion, he most likely felt that he had just fallen asleep. “It isn’t your grace; you can’t have been asleep for more than two hours, and as for why the delegation has arrived from Barrowton, I cannot say.”

The King frowned at Brynden´s words, after the failed negotiations earlier that day, no one had expected lady Dustin to want to negotiate with the King further. She had made it clear that her life would not be bought cheaply as she had yelled at the King that he would have to burn down the town to get to her.

The lords of the North had been all too happy to tell Brynden everything that they knew of lady Dustin and her hatred for Starks. But Brynden was surprised just how much anger and bitterness one person could feel.

And the fact that King Jon was the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen who had sparked the war that he husband had died in and he was also raised by his uncle Ned Stark who had left lord Dustin´s bones in Dorne but brought Lyanna home, had not been lost on the lady.

But the King had insisted that they needed to reach out and trying to negotiate peacefully for the sake of the people of Barrowton, and even though it had failed, at least the King had tried to negotiate.

Everyone had been surprised that the lady of Barrowton hadn’t offered a counteroffer and instead just stormed of in anger but Brynden couldn’t help but to admire that dedication the King had to make sure that his people were protected, he didn’t know many other nobles that had the same drive to protect the innocent, even Robb who had sympathized with the small folk and would have liked to help them, didn’t have that same drive.

It was most likely because Robb had been raised all his life to be the lord of Winterfell and lived a life of privilege, while King Jon had believed that he was just the bastard son of the lord of the North who had never been expected to take up a lordship.

Again, Brynden noted the differences between the cousins. Robb had been much quicker to smile and had been charming enough for three men, and King Jon was silent and stern. But Brynden had a feeling that if the Northern lord could choose between the two, they would have chosen King Jon instead of his cousin.

It wasn’t because of blood or that Robb had been incompetent, but as Brynden had now served both men, he had to admit that his nephew didn’t have the aptitude for leadership that King Jon had.

Sure, Robb had been a capable leader and had a great eye for military strategy, but Robb had never really had to work for his position as a leader as he had just been born to it, while King Jon had served in the night´s watch as a steward and then a ranger.

The King and his steward had told Brynden a little about his time serving at the Wall, and while the King didn’t really talk much about how badly people like Ser Alliser Thorne had treated those around him, Satin was more than happy to tell Brynden everything that he knew.

Brynden could also see the differences in which the Northern lords treated the two young men, while Robb had been questioned at every turn by the lords, it seemed that the Northern lords were quick to carry out any and all commands the young King gave them, even before they had found out about the larger dragons.

Then again Robb had gone with the army as an green boy and been put immediately as the head of that army, while when King Jon had gone with Sansa to gather the lords he had already seen battles and been at the head of an military order.

The King pulled on the black leather armor over the jerkin and attached the two valyrian swords to his waist as the young steward handed him the crown of the conqueror.

Brynden couldn’t help but to feel that even though both King Jon and Aegon the dragon, were both military men, they were almost complete opposites.

Aegon the conqueror had gone to conquer Westeros to become King and to establish a dynasty, but Brynden didn’t think for a moment that it was the same thing that drove the new King. Not after seeing the dead man that had once been Ser Alliser Thorne.

King Jon believed that they needed to unite the seven Kingdoms before the army of the dead came to kill them all, if they wanted to stand a chance against them. But that didn’t mean that King Jon wasn’t without his flaws, Brynden had a feeling that King Jon would have a hard time with the courtly manners and dancing as he seemed to have no patients for such trivial things.

King Jon also wasn’t a man that enjoyed polite small talk and would rather get right down to business, but maybe that was what the realm needed right now, a man who would rule rather than attend feasts and tourneys and drinking his life away.

Both Brynden and Satin followed the King to the commander´s tent along with Ghost, to meet the lords and the delegation from Barrowton to see what they wanted.

Brynden couldn’t imagine that Lady Dustin had changed her mind after her tantrum in front of all the lords and would want to start the negotiations again. No, something else had to be going on.

They entered the tent to find the other lords already there, and as the King took his seat, Brynden couldn’t even begin to guess what the man was thinking. Brynden took a seat next to the King on his left and on the other side of King Jon was lady Mormont, as it was her turn to sit at his right side.

Brynden recognized this continuing rotation of lords and ladies sitting at King Jon´s right when he had served Robb. It seemed that even though Ned Stark hadn’t understood the finer points of southern politics when governing, he had taught both Robb and King Jon that it was good to make sure that all the lords and ladies under his command were respected.

The white direwolf however made his way between Brynden and the King and laid his large head in the King´s lap, so that King Jon could give him a pat on the head.

The lords were seated in a u shape so that the delegation could stand in the middle of the tent and everyone could see them and clearly hear what they had to say.

King Jon beaconed the guards to let the Barrowton party inside the tent. The delegation was made up of five men in the colors of house Dustin, and Brynden noticed that three of them had been in attendance in the negotiations this morning, but they hadn’t said anything as they were most likely just common guards.

One of the men was particularly distinctive with large new burn scars on the left side of his face and hand, and it seemed that he had gone blind in one eye, by judging of the milky colored hue of his eye.

Brynden had suspected that lady Dustin hadn’t taken the man with her to the meeting for protection but rather to throw it in the King´s face what had happened to some of the men that day when the they took back Winterfell.

He had to admit that he had found it rather clever, until lady Dustin had lost control of her temper and insulted both Rickon and Sansa.

That had been the height of foolishness in Brynden´s humble opinion. She had lost the high ground that she had tried to establish for herself and made everyone angry at her.

Then the dragons had appeared, King Jon had intended to keep them away, but Brynden had seen over the course of the weeks he had been around King Jon that both the white direwolf and the emerald dragon, responded to his emotions, and now that he thought about it, Brynden had never heard or seen King Jon give either one of them commands with words or gestures.

Brynden was brought out of his thoughts by the men as they bowed in respect to the King, before the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna spoke. “Has lady Dustin changed her mind?”

Even as King Jon asked the question, Brynden could hear it that the young King didn’t hold out much hope that she had.

The men looked at each other, and the one with the scarred face took a small step forward. “No, your grace, she has not.”

This omission caused the lords to grumble to themselves. “Then why are you here?” Asked lord Redfort with suspicion in his eyes.

The scarred man cleared his throat. “When we got back to Barrowton and told our fellow guards what had happened, we all decided that we needed to do something.” Brynden could see that the man was pale and drawn and his hands were shaking with nervousness.

The man with the burn scars spoke again. “After hearing that lady Dustin sent the men south, knowing that they would never come back and the fact that she would let the people of Barrowton burn, we decided to take the town and the castle, and lady Dustin is now in our custody along with her serjeant and master at arms.”

These words made everyone stare at the man in bewilderment. The guards had taken it upon themselves to just arrest the lady and her loyal men? Then again, he shouldn’t be that surprised because she had made it clear that she would rather see the town burned than to surrender.

Before anyone could speak, Ser Lyn Corbray stood up in anger. “You captured the woman you are sworn to serve and protect and are now trying to save your hides by giving her up?”

Brynden could understand his way of thinking, many lords were brought up thinking that they were better than the people that were born into lower standing in society. Many good lords had that failing and the fact that these guards had taken their lady captive would make them very nervous.

“And why is that bad?” Spoke the wild haired wildling, Tormund as he scratched chin. “Wont it be better for us if we can capture the place without blood spilt?”

“Yes, it is.” Stated lord Redfort firmly. “King Jon gave lady Dustin her opportunity to surrender peacefully, but she threw the offer in his face.” Lord Redfort had stood up as he addressed the lords. “If these men give her up, then they will have saved hundreds of lives that would have been lost because she wasn’t willing to except the inevitable.”

Brynden could see that Ser Lyn´s lips had tuned into a fine line in his anger. But thankfully he didn’t have time to state his opinion, because lady Mormont was quicker. “I agree with lord Redfort, King Jon gave her terms that are better than she deserved and according to the traditions of the North, she has to die for her crimes against the Starks and the people she was supposed to protect.”

“Aye,” The Wull stood up and shook his fist in the air. “She should face justice, not hide behind the people of Barrowton after insulting lord Stark, the King and the Queen.”

As the lords cheered hearing the Wull´s words, the King held up his hand to silence them, then he turned to the five men. “The fact that you came here means that you are willing to negotiate,” He looked them over with the same stony expression that he had on his face for the entire evening. “What are your terms?”

The guards all looked at the scared man, who cleared his throat again. “All we ask is that we are allowed to surrender the town and castle peacefully and that the inhabitants will not be harmed.”

It was for the first time today that Brynden could detect a small smile on the King´s face. “You have my word that the people of Barrowton will not be harmed.”

The relief on the men´s faces was seen as clearly as the sun on a cloudless day, and all the lords seemed happy that the matter would be resolved so much sooner than they had thought, as they were all eager to ride south and avenge the Red wedding.

But Brynden couldn’t help but to be a little worried about how Ser Lyn was conducting himself, he rubbed his chin and decided to tighten the security around the King, for good measure.

Chapter Text

JON

He sat at the desk of the former lady of Barrowton´s solar, as he finished the letter to his family in Winterfell. He could feel his heart ache as he thought of his family, he missed them so much and he couldn’t help but to wonder what they were doing right now, and if they missed him as much as he missed them.

He was putting the finishing touches on the letter there was a knock on the door, and Jon called for the person to enter.

It turned out to be Ser Brynden, who was looking tired but jovial in his normal scaled armor in the color of his house and with the black trout that he had taken for his own sigil leaping playfully. “How did it go Ser Brynden?” Jon had ordered the lady Mormont to secure the town, and the leaders of the mountain clans to secure the castle and make sure nothing was out of the ordinary, but Jon had asked the Blackfish to report to him about how things were going.

“Well your grace.” Ser Brynden replied as Jon gestured for the man to take a seat, then Jon poured him a cup of wine that Satin had left on the desk, before Jon had managed to get the young man to take a nap. “The people of Barrowton had surrendered without a fight and there were no casualties of our men nor the inhabitants, and we cannot find any loyal men to lady Dustin hiding anywhere.”

This news brought a smile to Jon´s face. He was glad that there hadn’t been any battle and that the transition of power had been peaceful for the most part, except of course on lady Dustin´s end, who would-be put-on trial in the morning. But Jon had no illusions that it would be a long trial.

But he would be giving her a chance to speak in her own defense, but the evidence against her was overwhelming and her life would most likely end on the block tomorrow, at the end of the trial.

Jon glanced at Ghost who was resting by the fireplace while busying himself with a large bone that he had swiped from the bear that Rhaegal and Viserion had left behind and forgot.

Ser Brynden cleared his throat before he spoke again. “Your grace, the men are here as you requested.” Jon could see that the older man didn’t seemed to like the idea that Jon wanted to talk with the five men that had delivered them the town, here in the solar where there were only two guards outside and one direwolf keeping Jon save.

It seemed that Ser Brynden had taken Jon´s safety as seriously as Sansa´s and Rickon´s. But Jon had a feeling that Sansa had a hand in that somehow.

“Thank you, Ser Brynden, I will talk to them now.” Jon took a sip of his wine that Satin had left on the table, and he couldn’t help but grimace at the taste, it seemed that he had stopped liking the sweet taste of summer wine after his time on the Wall, he remembered quite liking the summer wine before he had left for the wall, but now he had grown to dislike it.

He put the cup back on the table with a frown, as Ser Brynden stood up. “Your grace.” The older man began. “If it is all right with you, I would like to stay and make sure that they don’t try anything, just to be save.”

Jon had to stifle a smile as he nodded in silence, before he spoke. “Of course.” Jon watched the man turn and as he reached the door, Jon spoke again. “You know, Ser Brynden if you aren’t careful, I may have to ask you to join the King´s guard that Sansa has been asking me to form.”

The older man stared at Jon with his blue eyes wide as plates. “I would be honored to join your King´s guard, if you offered me a place.”

Jon couldn’t help but to be surprised at the man´s words, he had intended it to be a joke, but then again, Jon was famously bad at making jokes, and he should have learned by now that he should never ever make them.

“You would be willing to join the King´s guard?” Jon asked surprised, he hadn’t expected that answer from the older man, then again, the Blackfish had famously fallen out with his brother when Hoster Tully had tried to get the man to marry and settle down.

 “Yes, of course.” Ser Brynden stated as a matter of fact. “I would consider it an honor to bare the white cloak and defend your life with my own.” With that Ser Brynden nodded at Jon and left the room to get the guards who had saved the people of Barrowton.

Jon rubbed his chin in thought as the man left, Brynden Tully would be the ideal King´s guard for Jon, as he was tied to him by Jon´s marriage to Sansa, and the fact that Ser Brynden gave good council and he was still a fierce warrior and a great commander.

Ser Brynden was already doing all the duties of a lord commander of a King´s guard, and it was considered a great honor to take the white cloak and defend the King.

Ser Brynden had also quite often made it clear that he didn’t want a wife nor children or lands to rule, so he was ready to give that kind of a future up. In fact, Jon couldn’t think of one reason to not offer the man that position, if they managed to save Edmure Tully, that is.

If Edmure Tully died, and Ser Brynden took the white cloak, that would mean that the Tully name would die out, and Jon had to admit, that wasn’t something he wanted to see.

But there were rumors that Edmure had fathered a child on his Frey bride on their wedding night, but Jon had no idea if it was true or not and not just some ploy from the Freys and the Lannisters.

As Jon pondered on the benefits on asking the Blackfish to join his King´s guard, there was a knock on the door, which made Jon call out that they could come in.

Ser Brynden walked in first and after him came the five men who had delivered the castle and the town to him, so that battle could be avoided.

“Thank you all for coming.” Jon said, as the men gave awkward bows and nervously called him your grace.

They looked nervously between him and the giant white direwolf, who was still gnawing at the big bone by the fireplace, but Ghost kept his blood red eyes firmly on the five men he wasn’t familiar with.

“First of all, I would like to thank you all for your bravery and courage in defending your home and your people,” These words made all the men look at Jon like he had grown talons and horns from his head. It must have been strange for them to hear this from the new Targaryen King, as lords and Kings didn’t often take time out of their lives to talk to common guards, but Jon felt that thanking them for their bravery was necessary.

“But I would like to ask you, what is it that made you decide on taking the castle and surrender it?” It had been burning on his mind ever since it had happened, while he was sure that Rhaegal and Viserion played a large part in their decision to surrender the castle, he also knew that three of the men had been a part of the delegation that lady Dustin had taken with her to meet Jon and the lords, and they must have heard what the woman said, about letting the town burn.

The man all looked at one another, before the one that had burn scars on his face cleared his throat. “Your grace, I was at the meeting where lady Dustin promised to let the town burn so that you couldn’t have it,” His good eye glanced at Ghost for a moment before he continued. “my father was also one of the men lady Dustin sent south with King Robb, and the last I heard of him, he was on his way from Riverrun to the Twins where lord Tully would get married.”

Jon frowned at this news; how did the man know where his father was located when he himself was here in Barrowton?

When Jon asked his that, the man turned a little embarrassed and he glanced at his feet like he had done something wrong. “My father taught me how to read and write, so we could exchange letters, your grace.”

This made both Jon and Ser Brynden raise their eyebrows in surprise, that wasn’t a common skill, much less a skill that one associated with a guard from a small town in the North, hells, even some noble men couldn’t read and write and had to rely on the maesters to do it for them.

“You can read?” Asked Ser Brynden completely flabbergasted. As the man nodded to confirm his words, Jon got an idea.

“What is your name?” Jon asked the man and the injured guard turned his good eye to Jon.

“Rodrik of Barrowton.” As Rodrik spoke his name, Jon couldn’t help but to feel nostalgic, as the late master of arms of Winterfell, who had taught Jon how to wield a weapon had the same name as one of the men who had helped save so many people.

“Well, Rodrik I have a proposition for you, if you are interested.” Jon laced his fingers together and rested his hands on the desk. “I want you to enter into my employ and teach those who are willing to learn how to read and write.”

Every man in the room was staring at him with surprise, and Jon was sure that Rodrik´s jaw wouldn’t be coming up from the floor for some time.

Before anyone could say anything, Jon continued. “It is a very valuable skill that you have, and I would like more of the common people to know how to read and write, you will of course be paid handsomely if you agree to teach some of the people of Barrowton the basics of reading and writing.”

Jon could see the glints of tears in his good eye as Rodrik hurriedly accepted Jon´s offer. After talking to the men for some time longer and promising to talk with Rodrik in the morning more about their deal and hammer out the details, the five men left Ser Brynden, Jon and Ghost alone in the solar.

“That was a good thing you did, your grace.” It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Ser Brynden was talking about the fact that Jon had offered the man respectable work when it was very likely that the man could never again be able to doing anything that required a lot of heavy lifting, after all the injury that he had sustained. “But may I ask why?”

Jon smiled sadly. “There are so many of the small folk that are intelligent and capable, but they will never get the opportunity to advance because they don’t get the chances we get, all because they weren’t born to riches or privilege.”

Jon had learned that lesson well when he had served on the Wall.  Most of the men who served with him, had been of smallfolk stock, and most of them were quite intelligent and all they needed was an education that they couldn’t get because they were poor.

“Well if there is anyone who can make the lives of the small folk easier, it is you, your grace.” Ser Brynden said with a grin.

Jon looked at the man in surprise. “You think that I can succeed where Aegon the fifth failed?” Aegon´s rule had been marred by the fact that the lords had been fearful and angry that their powers over the small folk were diminishing.

Ser Brynden grinned as he placed his cup to his lips. “Aegon the fifth didn’t have dragons.” He said and took a swing of the sweet summer wine.

GENDRY

As the ship made dock, he had to admit that it took some time for him to get his bearings, but he was walking up to the small inn by the docks as soon as he got used to walking on land again. He had only been on the ship for three days, but he had found that he did not have a love of the sea.

But the smell of the sea was much better than the smell of burning corpses and the smoke that still after all this time, lingered over the capitol after the Great Sept had blown up in green flames.

He sighed as he adjusted the sack he had swung over his shoulder and gripped the large Warhammer tighter and started on his way through a large number of Northern sailors and soldiers that littered the stone docks of Dragonstone.

When he had first heard the news, he had hardly believed it, but when he had found out that Ser Davos had come to Dragonstone to take the island in the name of his new King, Jon of house Targaryen, Gendry knew that he had to come.

It wasn’t because he was a Targaryen loyalist or was hoping to become the new lord Baratheon, what he really wanted to get out of the capitol and away from the Lannisters. Gendry, like the other inhabitances of King´s Landing, had heard the rumors that war would be soon coming from both the south and the north, and he didn’t want to be drafted into the Lannister army or anything of that nature.

He also knew that it was only a matter of time before he would be discovered and he was sure that the Lannisters would come after him, and it seemed safer on Dragonstone now that his uncle Stannis was gone.

He also felt that he owed Ser Davos a dept for having saved his life, the man had risked his life to save Gendry and he had gone against the man who he had declared as his King to do so.

He let out a sigh and walked into the inn that was filled with patrons, and he could see that most of them spoke with the same accent that Arya did, clearly marking them as Northerners.

As he thought about the fierce wolf of Winterfell, he couldn’t help but to blush a little. He could feel his heart skip a beat as it always did when he thought about her, over the course of their journey he had grown to admire her and then it had transformed into affection.

He could feel the familiar sense of regret as he thought of the last time they had seen each other, she hadn’t trusted the red woman, and he had thought that it was because Stannis´s red woman had been beautiful, but know he knew that Arya had seen something that Gendry hadn’t.

And he had almost paid for his stupidity with his life.

He just hoped that if he ever met her again that she wouldn’t hate him and that he could tell her that he was sorry for not listening to her.

He walked over to one of the tables that was thankfully empty, and he took a seat and gave the servant girl his order. He could hear a lot of chatter all around him, there were a lot of Northern sailors and soldiers, as well as some men in Targaryen colored, northern armor, that clearly had the Dragonstone accent.

Gendry had heard it often enough on the street of steel and Fleabottom to recognize it when he had heard it. The smith could see that the northern men were all eagerly listening to the men in the armor that was color of the Targaryen house.

“Is it true then?” One of the northern sailors asked one of the men dressed in Targaryen colors. “Did the King really die and come back with dragons?”

This made Gendry involuntary turn his head to look at the men in shock. Gendry knew only a few things about the King to the north, but he didn’t know which ones were true or Lannister lies.

They said that he had been killed by the men of the watch and then he had risen up from the dead from a great fire and with many dragons, who he had ordered to burn the men who had killed him. They had also said that he was the bastard of the traitor Ned Stark and he would soon come to the capitol to murder everyone in the capitol to avenge his father.

Well that was one rumor that was going around the streets of King´s Landing, but it changed every time it was told.

Some were horrible like this one, saying that the man, Jon Snow would come to the capitol with fire and blood, and then there were others saying that he was the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark and that he would be coming to right the wrongs that the Lannisters had done.

Arya had told Gendry a little about Jon Snow or Jon Targaryen as he was now often called, she had told him that Jon was her favorite brother, and that he had always had time for her for whatever she needed, and that he had been the one to give her the sword, Needle.

From the way Arya had spoken about the man who everyone was saying was the new Targaryen King, he had a hard time believing that he was coming to the capitol with the intention to burn it down in a fit of rage.

Arya had always said that this Jon was a kind man who was very intelligent, and burning down cities in a fit of rage, wasn’t something smart and kind men normally did, or so Gendry believed. He also had a hard time anyone who Arya admired so much, was a deranged killer.

Gendry was brought out of his thoughts by the other man as he gave a cheerful laugh at the sailor’s question. “Of course, he did, I saw him myself when he stepped out of the funeral pyre with his dragons.”

The man now had the attention of the entre inn. The servant girl came over with Gendry´s drink and meal and placed it in front of him, and he handed her the coppers without taking his eyes from the men.

As the girl walked past the man, she spoke. “Oh, come of it Martyn.” Her voice was light and playful. “You have told this story every night since you came back, everyone is sick of it.”

The northern sailor looked at the girl. “I haven’t heard it, my ship just docked today.” The northerner said with a pitiful look. “I haven’t heard the story from someone who was there at the time.”

One of the sailor’s friends nodded furiously. “Aye, all we have heard are rumors and we would like to hear the truth, King Jon is a right proper hero he is.”

Wait, why was the new King a hero to the Northerners? Gendry wanted to ask, but the man from Dragonstone, or Martyn as the girl had called him, spoke up again with a large smile on his face.

“I shall of course tell you everything I know.” Martyn spoke and gestured so grandly that Gendry though it more fitting for a bard or a singer than a guard. “I was there that day when lady Sansa arrived at the Wall and the King had just been killed. I had just returned after Stannis had been defeated at Winterfell, and the courtyard was filled with the faithful black brothers and the freefolk who had come to help them defend the fallen lord commander.”

Now everyone had turned to the guard as he spoke, even the servant girl had started to listen, as did the busy innkeeper, it seemed that no matter how many times the story was told, the people didn’t get tired of it, no matter what the servant girl said.

“The black brothers have the tradition of burning the dead, so they build a great pyre for their fallen lord commander so that he could be sent off with the honor that he deserved.” He paused for a moment and looked over the crowed inn before he continued.

“Then they put his body on the pyre with four colorful stones that his steward brought out and after paying their respects they lit the pyre.” Gendry was enraptured in the story, and he could see why the others still stopped and listened to it.

“We had been standing there for a few moments, and I can still hear lady Sansa´s mournful sobs as she was saying goodbye to the last family that she thought was alive. But then we could see it.” The guard in the Targaryen colors took a deep breath and then he continued.

“We all saw the King step out of the flames with four dragons and lady Sansa ran to him and embraced him, and we all knew that we had witnessed the rebirth of the prince that was promised.” Martyn finished just as grandly as he started, but Gendry had heard that before.

The red woman had kept on saying that his uncle Stannis was the prince that was promised, but now it was thought that Arya´s brother, no cousin, was that prince?

Not one of the rumors that he had heard in the capitol mention the red woman being at the new King´s side, which Gendry thought was strange. If she really was with Arya´s bro…cousin, then wouldn’t everyone be talking about it?

“Prince that was promised?” One of the northerners said in disbelieving tone. “What foreign nonsense is that?”

“It´s not nonsense, and it is not foreign.” Stated the man who had told the tale of the resurrection of Jon Targaryen. “It is an old prophesy that has been circulation around for a long time here in Westeros, or so I gather, and King Jon is that promised prince.”

The Northerner stared at the man for a moment before he spoke. “Well I think that we can agree on one thing and that is that King Jon is a bloody hero.” The Northerner´s friends called out their agreements.

The curiosity was now so great that Gendry couldn’t hold it back. “And why is he a hero, if I may ask?” Everyone turned to him as he waited for an answer to his question.

“You haven’t heard?” Asked Martyn from Dragonstone in the Targaryen colors that had told the story. Gendry shook his head, confirming the other man´s words.

At seeing that Gendry didn’t know, an exited glint appeared in his eyes. “Well let me tell you everything I have heard.”

The man grabbed a mug of ale and took a swing and cleared his throat. “I have heard from many people,” He gestured to the Northerners. “Including these good men that have just come from White Harbor.”

Gendry glanced at the Northerners as the man gestured to them and waited for the man clad in Targaryen colors to continue.

“We have heard that King Jon and his new dragons have taken back the castle of the Starks, Winterfell and saved the young lord Rickon Stark.” This made Gendry frown, he had thought that Rickon Stark had died by Theon Greyjoy´s hand, or so he had heard on the road, traveling with Hot Pie and Arya.

“But I thought that he had died along with his brother Brandon Stark, when Theon Greyjoy sacked Winterfell.” Gendry hoped that Rickon and Brandon Stark were alive, it would make Arya so happy to know that her brothers were at Winterfell, save and sound.

“Well I don’t know how, but apparently they somehow managed to fake their deaths and escape the iron born, but then for some reason Ramsay Snow managed to get his hands on little Rickon and while the bastard of Bolton tried to kill him, King Jon´s larger dragons arrived, while the King grabbed his cousin and swiftly mounted the largest of the dragons, Rhaegal the Emerald fury of the North and flew away with the boy to safety.” As the man talked for a longer time, Gendry´s eyebrows rose higher on his face.

King Jon had dragons big enough to ride? But he thought that he had only just gotten his dragons. if Arya´s cousin had dragons before, it would have been hard to hide them as they were so big, right?

But the Targaryen man wasn’t done. “And his cousin the beautiful lady Sansa was so grateful for his heroic actions, offered her hand in marriage to the Dragon King.” He announced grandly and Gendry could see that the young waitress was smiling dreamily at his words.

He could see the Northerners lift their cups and mugs. “A toast to the King and Queen, the liberators of the North.” The inn was filled with cheers as the sailors and soldiers toasted and took swings of their drinks.

The toasts were followed by even more toasts, not only to the King and his Queen, but also to Rickon Stark, the new lord of Winterfell, and to the King´s dragons who had saved the boy at the King´s behest.

Gendry frowned and hurriedly ate his meal, he had to talk to Ser Davos. After finishing his meal, he looked around the inn and he could see that the guard in the Targaryen colored leather armor that had told them the tale of King Jon was still there talking to his friends, and Gendry resolved to talk to him.

“Excuse me,” Gendry interrupted their conversation again. “I was wondering if there is some way for me to talk with Ser Davos?”

“Why do you want to talk to him?” Gendry could see suspicion in the man´s eyes as he eyed Gendry enormous Warhammer.

Gendry knew he had to put the men at ease in a hurry so that he didn’t end up in the dungeons on suspicion of trying to hurt Ser Davos, who was holding the Island in his King´s name. “Ser Davos saved my life, and I was hoping to offer my aid, such as it is, to help pay him back for his kindness.”

This seemed to put the man somewhat at ease. “Well I am sure that you understand I cannot just let you up to the castle, but if you can give me your name, I will be sure to tell Ser Davos of your arrival here at Dragonstone.”

The man stood up and handed the servant girl a few coppers, before he turned back to Gendry who cleared his throat. “My name is Gendry Waters, you can also tell him that I have stopped rowing,” The man gave him a funny look at his last words. “He will know what it means.”

TYRION

He hurried through the halls of the Great pyramid; he really didn’t want to be late for the meeting. The Queen of Meereen would be meeting with Asha and Theon Greyjoy, who had arrived in the city just after dawn and most likely wanted to make an alliance with the Dragon Queen.

Tyrion had snorted at the very thought that Asha and Theon Greyjoy had come here to seek out the Dragon Queen. The last he had heard, the iron born had invaded the North, when the fighting men of the Northern most Kingdom of Westeros had been away fighting in the Riverlands, and then many of them had retreated almost immediately, to carry of their stolen goods to their barren home land, while some stayed and ravaged the country and killed it´s people.

Tyrion had also heard that Theon Greyjoy had been killed by some Northerners after the sack of Winterfell, and that Asha Greyjoy was trying to become the Queen of the Iron islands.

He knew that the girl wouldn’t find much room to become a Queen if Daenerys decided to go to Westeros, he doubted that Daenerys would suffer another Queen, when she aimed to become the ruler of the seven kingdoms.

He could feel the pyramid shudder, making him stumble and be pulled out of his thoughts, as the black dragon took off with a roar from his nest that he had made on top of the pyramid.

The black dragon had been making it hard for the people in the pyramid to get any sleep ever since he had arrived back in the city, then again, Tyrion doubted that many inhabitances of Meereen had much sleep ever since Drogon came back.

Tyrion sighed as he neared the doors of the great hall, ever since Daenerys had returned to Meereen, she was growing more sure of her right to rule over the seven kingdoms, even though she had never once stepped foot on the land and didn’t seem all that interested in actual governance.

Every time he tried to tell her about the state of commers in the city or when he tried to get her more involved in the actual ruling, she waved her dainty little hand and declared that she had the utter most confidence that he would see to that the people of Meereen wanted for nothing.

She was now breathing down her councilor’s necks to make sure that Tyrion and her other councilors were making the preparations for their march to Yunkai and Astapor.

Tyrion agreed that the masters who had untied against her had to answer for breaking the truce that they had themselves agreed too, but he had a feeling that Daenerys would go extremely overboard, like she had been doing before she had when the sons of the Harpy had been harassing and murdering the freed people of Meereen.

He sighed and entered the throne room, where hopefully the Queen wasn’t yet. To his happiness, only Daario Naharis and Greyworm where in the throne room of the great pyramid.

The commander of the second sons was lounging lazily at the steps to the throne and the commander of the Unsullied as standing at attention by the throne.

If there was a person that irritated Tyrion, it was Daario Naharis, the man strutted around the pyramid believing that he was somehow important because he was sleeping with the Queen. But all Daario was doing was making managing Meereen so much harder by whispering in Daenerys´s ear.

The commander of the second sons was doing his best to make sure that the Queen was going to decimate the cities of Yunkai and Astapor and ignore everything else, not that she needed much help with that.

She seemed determined to make the masters of the two cities pay for the treachery’s that Tyrion was sure that she wouldn’t care who got in her way to do it.

As the mercenary opened his mouth to speak as Tyrion walked closer, the man was interrupted by the Queen of Meereen and the lord commander of the Queen´s guard and her adviser, Missandei, which made the man stand up and bow deeply to the Queen.

The Dragon Queen was a vision in light blue and silver dress with her crown on her head, that had the likeness of the three dragons that she had hatched in the red waste, or so he was told. The only flaw that Tyrion could see with her appearance was the fact that her eyes were slightly red, as if she had trouble sleeping the night before.

Daenerys glided over to the throne and took a seat and gestured for Daario to speak. “Tell me, are we ready to go to war?”

The tall man smirked. “Yes, my Queen, the Unsullied shall stay here in Meereen under the control of Greyworm, while the second sons will go with the Dothraki to Yunkai with you, my Queen.”

“Good, and what about the ships?” The Silver Queen asked and looked at the blue bearded man in front of her. Tyrion noticed the Queen of Meereen winch slightly as she discreetly rubbed her temple.

He had been noticing that Daenerys had been suffering from headaches ever since she returned to the city, but she never sought any help, and only used sweet wine to dull the ache in her head. He had to admit that he was getting very concerned as the pain seemed to make her angrier than she had been before.

Naharis looked uncomfortable for a moment. “I regret to inform you my Queen that Lannister was right, we only have one fourth of the fleet of the Slavers, but we can use those ships to make sure that the slavers cannot escape by sea.”

The Queen nodded and turned to Tyrion. “Is there any news that I should know before we talk to the Greyjoy siblings?”

Tyrion nodded to the silver haired woman on the throne. There was a lot he wanted her to know but he knew that she wouldn’t be interested as she had made abundantly clear, but there was something that she needed to know that he had just heard about before he arrived in the throne room.

“Yes, your grace. I just found out that all the red priests and priestesses have retreated into the temple of R’hollor, and priestess Kinvara has left the city.” This news made the Queen frown.

“Do you know why?” She asked him, and all the inhabitances of the room had turned to look at the small man with disbelieve in their eyes.

Tyrion had been very surprised to find out that the red priestess had left the city, especially when she had stated that she believed that Daenerys was the fabled prince that was promised.

This news made the people of the room look as troubled as he had felt when he had heard the news. But no one was particularly concerned by the priestess´s disappearance, as they had more important matters at hand.

“We will deal with it when we have dealt with Yunkai and Astapor, but for now it doesn’t matter.” She crossed her legs and called for the Greyjoy siblings to enter.

He had never seen Asha Greyjoy before, she was a lean woman with long legs and short dark hair, and a large hawk like nose, and she strutted forward like she owned the place.

Her brother however was nothing like Tyrion remembered him to be, it seemed that the years hadn’t been kind to him, as his once dark hair had now turned grey and his once daring eyes were filled with fear and they were darting all around the room as if he was looking for an escape, as he walked over to them with a limp.

When the Greyjoy girl approached the steps to the throne, she didn’t kneel or bow in respect to Daenerys and rather stood like she was the silver haired woman´s equal, and Tyrion could see that it irritated the Queen of Meereen.

After a moment´s silence, the Queen´s adviser, Missandei stepped forward. “You have the honor to stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn, of house Targaryen. Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Queen of Meereen and the ruler of the bay of Drogon, Khaleesi of the Great grass sea, The unburnt, the breaker of chains and the mother of dragons.”

By the end of the introduction of Queen Daenerys, Tyrion could see that young Asha Greyjoy was raising an eyebrow. It seemed that she wasn’t impressed with all those titles.

Silence filled the hall before the lady of the Iron islands shot her brother a look. Theon Greyjoy looked at his sister with fear in his eyes and then he glanced at the woman on the throne. “May I present my sister, Asha of house Greyjoy, the Queen of the Iron islands and…” He glanced back at his sister and she gave him a lot to go on. “…and the Queen of the North.”

The last thing he said made Tyrion´s eyebrows disappear into his hair.

“The last time I heard, the north belongs to the Iron throne.” The Queen of Meereen said and there was an edge to her tone.

“It did,” Asha Greyjoy said with a smirk. “Until I conquered it.”

“And were chased from it.” Tyrion piped up and he could see irritation in Asha´s eyes, much to his happiness. He had disliked the Ironborn since he had seen the Lannister fleet burn at Lannisport, as they had been attacked unprovoked by Balon Greyjoy´s brothers, Euron and Victarion.

Theon Greyjoy had turned back to look at his toes and seemed to try to make himself look as small as he possibly could, while his sister did no such thing and stood even taller. “My people conquered it, so now it belongs to me as I am the Queen of my people.”

Tyrion had to fight off a smile, he had a suspicion about why she was insisting that the North belonged to her, but he would wait until he could confirm his suspicions.

“Then why is such a successful conqueror here in Meereen,” Daario Naharis spoke up with a smirk. “begging the Dragon Queen to help her.”

The anger in Asha Greyjoy made her green eyes burn as she stared at the commander of the second sons. “We are not here to beg for help, but to negotiate a deal with Queen Daenerys.”

“And what deal is that?” The silver Queen asked with anger in her tone.

“I have heard that you need ships to transport your armies to Westeros, and we have ships and we are willing to help you.” There was a glint of self-satisfaction in her eyes.

“I suspect that your fleet is not going to come cheaply.” Tyrion said as he crossed his arms, he had to admit that he didn’t want the Dragon Queen to go to Westeros, but even if she had the iron fleet Tyrion doubted that Daenerys would go until the two runaway dragons would return to her or she could find them and bring them back to her.

“And what do you want in return for returning the rightful Queen of the seven kingdoms back to her throne?” Asked the Queen of Meereen as she straightened in her throne, as her lips formed a thin line in her anger.

“I want to be acknowledged as the Queen of the Iron Islands and the North.” Asha Greyjoy folded her arms and set her chin stubbornly.

It was then when Tyrion was sure why the girl had insisted on having conquered the North, it gave her something to give up in negotiations so that she could keep the iron islands and the title of Queen, well in her mind it probably did.

Tyrion looked at the silver Queen, and he could see her nostrils flare. “No.”

The anger in her violet eyes was frightening, as she tended to take drastic measures when angered beyond reason.

Asha stared at the other woman as her brother just kept staring at his feet. “No?”

“The North is mine, the iron islands are mine,” She grasped the armrests with her tiny hands. “The Iron throne is mine, and I will take back what is mine with fire and blood and those who stand in my way will pay with their lives.”

Tyrion wasn’t surprised by the Dragon Queen´s response to Asha Greyjoy´s proposition, he had known that Daenerys would never share the title of Queen with anyone.

The only living child of Aerys Targaryen stood up from her throne and slowly walked over to the self-styled Queen of the Iron islands and the North. “I will return to Westeros and reclaim my birthright, and I will remember the lords and ladies who helped me to reclaim my throne, and those who did not and tried to stand in my way and reach above their station.” The room was filled with tension as the Dragon Queen walked closer to Asha Greyjoy.

Daenerys stopped by the other woman and looked right up to her face, even though the Dragon Queen was not as tall as Asha Greyjoy, Tyrion could see that the taller woman was unnerved and intimidated by the silver heard woman. Or maybe by the large black dragon that was flying over the city and roaring in anger as he had been doing since his return to the city.

Asha Greyjoy opened her mouth to say something, but she closed it when Daenerys continued. “So, you can either support me and become the ruling lady of the iron islands, or you can continue to defy me and burn like all the others who have.”

Chapter Text

ARIANNE

She could feel the biting cold wind slap her face as she watched the large castle of the Stark´s rise on the hill. White banners with the snarling grey direwolf fluttered on the tall towers, and she couldn’t help to marvel at the large castle. She could very well believe that this castle had been built by giants and magic as the stories claimed.

She glanced to her side where Ser Daemon Sand was riding, and she noted that he looked like how she felt. Cold and miserable, neither of them had ever been in such a cold climate before, and Arianne was sure that she would never get used to it.

She could finally understand why they said that northerners didn’t smile or laugh, it was most likely because if you had your mouth open for a short time in this cold, your teeth started to hurt from the cold wind that seemed determined to squeeze your brain out of your skull.

But this was a journey she had to make, even if she hated the cold. She had to take back her birthright and right now she needed the Dragon King to help and support her.

Arianne hated the fact that she needed a man to help her to get back her birthright, but she knew that King Jon Targaryen was her best chance to take back Dorne and get justice for her father.

“Are you all right princess?” Asked the knight beside her, but she could barely make out his words because of his shivers. Her tall and handsome sworn shield had a runny nose and his eyes were watering from the cold as he asked her how she was doing.

“I am fine Ser Daemon.” It took everything she had, not to let her teeth chatter as she spoke, even though she was clad in layers of clothing and fur that had been given to her by the Northerners.

He shot her a look that made it clear to her that he didn’t believe her for a moment, but thankfully he let it go.

Arianne glanced at the northerners that had escorted them from White Harbor and the ones that had been sent from Winterfell to be their honor guard to escort them the rest of the way.

And holding true to all the tales she had heard of northerners they didn’t seem to enjoy talking much, much to her happiness. Arianne was too irritated by the cold that she didn’t want to talk to anyone, not even Ser Daemon.

Her irritation was made even greater by the fact that the northerners didn’t seem to be bothered at all by the biting wind nor the freezing cold of their homeland. But she had to admit that she felt guilty, because the honor guard of the Starks were kind and made sure to see to all their needs.

The banker Noho Dimittis, who was also traveling with them to Winterfell to talk to the Dragon King, was just as miserable as Arianne and Ser Daemon, but he bore it with a lot of grace.

As they rode closer to the castle, Arianne could see that they were entering the battle ground that had been used when the King had taken back the castle from the Bolton bastard.

She could see large black scorched patches of earth that had scared the soil in front of the castle, and for the first time since White Harbor she believed the tales that she had been told. Ser Marlon Manderly had taken command of White Harbor while his cousin the lord Wyman Manderly was at Winterfell.

The jovial knight had told the princess of Dorne that the Dragon king had acquired two larger dragons and had used them to take back Winterfell for the Starks.

Arianne hadn’t believed him at the time, but now seeing the large deep scorched marks in the earth had made her believe his words.

Noho Dimittis had looked very shocked and delighted at the news that the preferred candidate now had six dragons to his name and that two of them were large and ready for battle. The Braavosi seemed confident that they could reach a deal with the Targaryen king, as when he had been the lord commander of the night´s watch, the young King had proven himself to reasonable man.

Arianne hoped that they were right in their belief that the young king would be a reasonable man who could help her take back her birthright. Ser Daemon seemed skeptical that anyone who was crowned a king could be reasoned with.

She just prayed that Jon Targaryen was a rational man as she rode passed the scorched earth of the battlefield. Judging by the field, it seemed that the king hadn’t taken many prisoners. The earth was so scorched that it looked like the king´s new dragons had tried to turn all the field black with their fires.

But Ser Merlon had done his best to try and assure her that the King had only killed those who had tried to mount an offence against him, and those who surrendered had been spared.

Arianne turned her eyes to the sky, half hoping that she could spot dragons flying in the sky, and half dreading it.

She glanced at her sworn shield, and she could see the surprise and horror in his eyes that she was sure that matched her own, as he watched the black marks on the ground. She was so shocked by the proof that the king had gotten two more dragons, that she could barely feel the cold wind slapping at her face anymore.

They rode through the gate of the castle, and Arianne felt like she had walked into a wall. On the outside of the castle the weather was cold and windy, but as they entered the castle, the air was warm and comfortable.

They entered the courtyard, and Arianne was struck speechless at what she saw. The courtyard was filled with people, there were many servants and guards to greet them along with lords of the north that were staying in Winterfell for their own reasons.

She saw the lord of New castle, lord Manderly looked a lot like his cousin, Ser Marlon, and he had his daughters with him, who were both looking a little sullen, and the reason was most likely because the Dragon King had already taken his cousin Sansa Stark as his Queen.

Arianne had been told that bit of interesting news by Ser Marlon Manderly, who had announced to them all that the Dragon King had taken lady Sansa for wife after he had finished ending the Bolton line.

In the middle of the courtyard were four people, that were clearly the most important ones there.

Arianne spotted a young boy, around six years old who was wearing the Stark colors and trying his best to look older than he really was, that had to be the young lord of Winterfell, Rickon Stark. Beside him was a young man that looked a lot like him, but this one was in a chair like her father had owned, that had wheels so that he could be moved around more easily. Arianne had been told that Brandon Stark had suffered an injury which had made him paralyzed for the rest of his life, but she had thought that he had died along with Rickon Stark in the sacking of Winterfell, but it appeared that the Starks were hard to kill.

The boy in the chair with the wheels, or Brandon Stark, was a tall boy and he had a penetrating gaze that made Arianne feel like he was seeing her inner thoughts, and by his feet was the largest wolf Arianne had ever seen in her life. But it was missing one ear and had large scars on his side.

Beside Brandon Stark, was a young girl that Arianne recognized by reputation. That was clearly Shireen Baratheon, the daughter of Stannis Baratheon, and now the lady of Storm´s End, if her greyscale scars were anything to judge by.

But beside the young lord of Winterfell was a tall beautiful woman with long red hair that shone like fire in the braid that was laid gently over her shoulder, and her skin was so pale that it was like she was made out of moonlight.

The woman was wearing the Stark colors and a circlet on her head that had snarling direwolfs made out of bronze who bore a striking resemblance to the another direwolf that was by her feet, who was a lot smaller than the scared one. Arianne had to admit that she was a little jealous how tall and beautiful the woman was.

But it wasn’t the people that drew her eye, no it was the dragons around them that made her eyes widen with wonder. One of the dragons was by the tall woman´s feet beside the smaller direwolf, it was a beautiful silver with golden horns and eyes, and it was the size of a large hunting dog. The silver dragon was standing protectively by the woman and it didn’t take its eyes of the party that had just arrived in the courtyard.

There were three other dragons, that were perching on the gargoyles of the castle. One was red with golden horns and hints of black on its scales and it was snarling in warning, and the message that they should behave themselves was clear.

The other two were perching higher than the red one, the blue one with the bronze horns was looking like he was hiding behind his wings, reminding Arianne of a giant bat as he showed them his ink black teeth, and the pale green dragon with the silver eyes and horns was letting out roars.

Arianne just stared at the four dragons in wonder, she could hardly believe it that she was really seeing dragons after they had been extinct for over hundred and fifty years, even those dragons were only just bigger than the biggest hunting dogs, and not like the monsters in the stories of Old Valyria.

But then it hit her, the one who had hatched the dragons wasn’t here, nor were the two biggest of the dragons that Ser Merlon had told them that he had, which meant that they must have already missed him, and he was on his way south to claim his throne.

She was still staring open mouthed at the dragons as a guard came over and offered her a hand down from her horse.

“Welcome princess Arianne, to Winterfell.” The tall woman, who had to be the new Queen, Sansa of house Stark, said to her with a warm smile that was a great contrast to the weather outside the castle.

Arianne walked over to the new Queen of the seven Kingdoms and gave her a curtsy. “Thank you for allowing us into your lovely home, you grace.” She couldn’t help but to let her eyes wander over to the dragon and the direwolf that stood on the Queen´s either side and stared at her with their golden eyes.

Arianne could feel the eyes of the other dragons fixed firmly on her being, as they stared at her from above, it was like they were making sure that Queen Sansa wouldn’t get hurt or injured in anyway.

“It is a pleasure to have you here, your highness.” The Queen said with a smile, then her eyes turned sad. “But allow me to convey our condolences for the murder of your father, by all accounts he was a good and gracious ruler.”

Arianne stared for a moment at the other woman. “Thank you, your grace, my father always did his best to be good to the people he ruled.”

After the condolences, Arianne was introduced to the other occupants of the courtyard, she was pleased to know that she had been right in her guesses on which person had been which.

The redheaded Queen gestured over a few servants and asked them to show Arianne and her sworn shield to their rooms so that they could freshen up before the feast.

Arianne and Ser Daemon followed the servants, but Arianne couldn’t help the last glance at the dragons that were still with the Queen in the courtyard, as she talked to Noho Dimittis.

She was led to a spacious room that already had a tub, filled with steaming water so that she could take a bath after the long journey, and she almost wept with relief.

The maid servants that the Queen had sent to assist her, helped to untangle her hair with their soft hands with extreme care, like her hair was made of the softest silk. Arianne almost nodded of, but she was roused by a knock on the door, and Ser Daemon´s voice. “Princess, may I speak with you?”

She let out a sigh and got out of the tub, she would have just let him come in, but she didn’t want to shock the poor maid servants that the Queen had assigned to her. Everyone North of the prince´s pass were such prudes.

One of the girls, helped her into a robe and another let the knight into the room. It seemed that the knight didn’t seem content to soak in the bath water like she had, and he had hurried so much that he hadn’t even properly dried his hair.

She sat down at the vanity and waited for the man to speak. “The King isn’t here.” He stated as he stared at her with his sky-blue eyes.

“No, he is not.” She agreed with him, in a deadpan tone as she waited for him to get to his point.

“Then why are we still here?” The impatience in his voice was clear, and she couldn’t help but to be irritated by it.

Arianne knew that Ser Daemon didn’t like being here in the North, nor did he seem to like the fact that they were traveling to see the Dragon King, who was the son of Lyanna Stark.

Even with her aunt´s letters to her father, it seemed that Ser Daemon was determined to hold Jon Targaryen´s birth against him, it must have been the Dornish pride had been hurt, even though he had been a babe in swaddling clothes when the rebellion broke out.

But Arianne had no such luxury’s like anger to hold on to, especially when it came to such a stupid one as to hold the actions of the parents against the Dragon King, when he had no part in such actions and when her own aunt had approved of the marriage.

“We are here to seek help and make it known that we want to declare for Jon Targaryen.” She said in a no-nonsense tone of voice. If Arianne made it clear that she wanted Jon Targaryen on the throne and would declare for him, he would be much more likely to help her get back her birthright.

“We can’t very well do that if he isn’t here.” Daemon stated as he glanced at the maid servants, as they buzzled about making sure that she was ready for the feast. Arianne knew full well that most likely they would report to the Queen, and she was sure that Daemon knew that as well, otherwise he would be a lot harsher in his words.

“Yes, we can.” Arianne shot Daemon an irritated look. “Ser Marlon Manderly told us that the King has left the Queen as lord Rickon´s regent until he comes of age, and he also said that the king trusts his wife, so I think that we can safely say that we can announce our plans to support them to her.”

Ser Daemon started stalking up and down the room, and the maid servants did their best not to be in his way. “But surely we can head south to meet the King and talk to him directly.”

Arianne had the urge to slap the man so hard that his skull rang. “And throw Queen Sansa´s hospitality in her face? Are you mad?”

Ser Daemon stopped stalking and sighed. “No, that is not what I meant, I just want to help you take back what is yours.” Her anger vanished as soon as it had appeared.

“Right now, this is where we need to be, to make that happen, and we cannot be rash or discourteous to the Queen, and the King´s family.” The maid servant finished with her hair, and her dark brown locks were now in a Northern style braid down her back, and she couldn’t help but to like it, it wasn’t like the styles of the south that seemed designed to hurt her scalp and give her a headache.

The girl then guided her behind a screen where she could change into a dress fitting for the feast that they would be attending.

Arianne had to hold in a gasp at the lovely orange and red dress that she was presented with. She hadn’t been able to take much with her on her journey from her homeland, so she hadn’t been able to show her house colors with pride that she so dearly wanted.

While the dress was made of the fabrics and style of the North, it warmed her heart to wear her colors again, and as she hurriedly put on the dress with the help of the maid servants, she couldn’t help but to notice how well made the dress was and Arianne was sure that not even the best seamstress in Sunspear could make such a well-made dress.

The dress fitted her well, and the maid servants had only to make minor adjustments to it, so that it fit her small but curvaceous frame.

As she stepped from behind the screen, Ser Daemon´s mouthed opened in surprise and his eyebrows rose to his hairline, much to her satisfaction. “You look beautiful, princess.” He said with a small smile.

They headed to the great hall of Winterfell under the guidance of one of the Stark guards, and when they arrived the hall was already filled with people, the guard showed them to the high table and to their surprise even Ser Daemon was allowed to sit at the table, beside his princess.

All her life, Arianne had been made to believe that North of the prince´s pass, people didn’t like nor tolerate bastards, even highborn ones. But it seemed that in the North, the lords and ladies didn’t even bat an eye when Ser Daemon was seated beside her.

Arianne was seated next to the young Queen, who was dressed in the colors of her house and with the direwolf crown on her head. She could also see that the banker, Noho Dimittis was seated next to the lord of Winterfell, in a seat of honor.

“Are you feeling better princess?” The Queen asked, and Arianne had the feeling that she genuinely wanted to know.

“Yes, I feel much better after the warm bath, your grace.” Arianne replied with a smile. “and the dress is just stunning, I haven’t been able to wear my house colors for some time, so it is a great comfort for me to be able to wear them again.”

The Queen smiled widely. “I am glad you like it, while I was in the capitol as the Lannister´s hostage, I couldn’t wear my house colors and now I just can’t help wearing them at every occasion.”

Arianne smiled at her words, it seemed that the Queen that the Dragon King had picked was clever indeed. “I cannot imagine how horrible it must have been for you to have been the Lannister´s prisoner for all those months.”

It was then when Arianne noticed something warm and moving under the table, and as she looked down, she could see that the silver dragon was crawling from under the table and sniffing the floor for scraps and it was quickly joined by the smaller of the two wolfs.

“Stop that you two, you have already had your dinner.” The Queen said in a playful tone and she shooed them away. The direwolf let out a huff and headed in front of the high table and laid down, as it watched the inhabitants of the great hall, but the silver dragon crawled up the back of the Queen´s chair and perched there, and it was clearly getting to big to stay there.

As Arianne stared at the dragon, the Queen spoke up drawing the attention back to her. “Growing dragons and direwolfs are always looking for food, but one has to be careful that they aren’t over fed.”

The redheaded woman reached up and scratched the silver dragon under the chin, which made the hound sized dragon give a purr of content.

Arianne had been so curious about how the Dragon King had gotten his dragons, and right now as she watched as the wife of Jon Targaryen scratched the silver dragon under the chin, she couldn’t keep the curiosity under control anymore. “Your grace, if I may ask, how did his grace hatch dragons?”

Arianne could see the faraway look in the Queen´s eyes, as Ser Daemon leaned a little forward to listen to her answer, but it seemed that he wasn’t alone, as the banker Noho Dimittis seemed to fix his gaze on the Queen as well, waiting for her reply.

“Well, when the men of the night´s watch placed Jon on his pyre, his steward put the four dragon eggs on his pyre and after the pyre had burned for some time, Jon walked out of it with the four dragons, completely unharmed.” Arianne blinked at her words, it sounded just like what she had been told at White Harbor by Ser Merlon Manderly, but she had wanted to hear it from someone who was actually there.

Arianne had so many other questions, but the look on the Queen´s face made her swallow them back, it seemed just thinking about it brought the red headed woman much pain.

“Where did his grace get the dragon eggs?” Asked the banker with the curiosity gleaming in his eyes, as he clearly decided to stay away from the subject of Jon Targaryen rising from the grave.

The Queen took a sip from her cup before she answered. “His uncle, maester Aemon Targaryen left them to Jon after he died, along with the sword, Darksister.”

“So, it is true, the sword of Visenya Targaryen has been found after all these years.” Arianne could hear the excitement in her sworn shield´s voice as he said those words.

“It is very fitting that the King has the sword of Visenya Targaryen and the crown of Aegon the dragon, is it not?” Said Noho Dimittis before he took a bite of his meal.

The little lord of Winterfell now looked very excited by the conversation. “But Jon never really uses Darksister.”

His words made Arianne´s eyes almost pop out of her head; the King preferred another sword to a valyrian steel one?

“The King doesn’t use his valyrian steel sword?” Asked Ser Daemon and the surprise wasn’t hidden.

But the Queen gave a laugh that reminded Arianne of bells. “My husband prefers his other valyrian steel sword, Longclaw.” This made Ser Daemon inhale deeply before he spoke.

“The King has two valyrian steel swords?”

“Aye,” little lord Rickon piped up, proud to tell the knight something that he didn’t know. “he prefers Longclaw over Darksister because it matched his height better and gives him a longer reach, as Darksister was made for someone much shorter than him, and Longclaw is a bastard sword.”

“Yes, my colleague, Tycho Nestoris told us that the lord commander had been given a Valyrian steel sword for saving the life of his predecessor, but as he never saw the sword, we weren’t sure if it was true or not.” The banker said thoughtfully.

“But having two Valyrian swords is incredible,” Said Ser Daemon with wonder clear in his deep voice. “Some believe that there are only around two hundred in Westeros left.”

“One hundred ninety-six.” Everyone turned to the tall boy in the wheeled chair, Brandon Stark was still looking at his food and had clearly spoken without looking up.  “There are one hundred ninety-six left in Westeros.”

Arianne opened her mouth to ask him how he could be so sure about that, when he looked up and into her eyes. For a moment she was sure that Brandon Stark knew all her secrets and inner most thoughts.

Thankfully it was the banker who spoke up, breaking the eye contact between them. “But the two dragons that the King acquired, they are two of the dragons that Daenerys Targaryen hatched in Essos, am I right?”

Arianne had never been so happy that the banker was more interested in how the King had gotten dragons than valyrian steel swords. The man had told her that it must have been two of the Targaryen girl´s dragons that had gone to the Dragon King´s side, when they heard the news in White Harbor, as she was the only other person who had hatched dragons.

“Yes, Rhaegal and Viserion came to Jon when we were still at the Wall, just after he had come back.” The Queen said with a fond smile on her lips.

Arianne could see the banker practically become giddy when Queen Sansa confirmed his theory, and Arianne had to admit that she was glad that the monarch that she wanted to support now had such advantage in the battlefield, but the war wasn’t done yet, and it was hard to predict until it was over.

MARGAERY

She had just come back inside the castle after her short walk on the castle walls. At first, she had been in awe of the castle of the Stormlords but after staying here for the last few weeks, she was feeling jaded and more than a little melancholy. But that was more because of how her husband was treating her rather than the castle itself.

While Aegon hadn’t paid her anymore visits to seek his marital rights, which had made her happy, he still treated her with indifference and coldness that was slowly eating at her self-esteem and self-worth.

But she was glad that her father wasn’t going around the Stormlands to help her husband gather their support. Her father had volunteered to go, but Connington had said that he would be of more use here, and then he had sent one of his own officers to talk to the Stormlords.

Margaery knew that Connington hadn’t let her father go to the Stormlords out of the kindness of his heart, but rather he didn’t want to let go of a hostage. It hadn’t taken her long time to find out what they really were in fact hostages, no matter the fact that she was Aegon´s wife.

She continued her walk through the castle of the Baratheon´s, and it was when she was passing the solar of the lord of the castle when she heard her husband’s voice carry though the wooden door. “-but I can´t stand her.” She heard Aegon announce.

She could feel her heart drop despite herself, she knew in her heart that he was talking about her, even though she hadn’t heard him mention her name.

“I know you don’t love the girl, but it would be better if you tried to make her feel more welcome.” She could hear the hand of the King tell the young man on the other side of the door.

“I don’t love her, and I don’t like her, you were the one to make me marry her for her father´s armies when I should have married a woman like my aunt, who has dragons and is the most beautiful woman in the world.” Aegon exclaimed loudly and with anger in his voice.

After being here for weeks now, and judging by how Aegon treated her, she wasn’t surprised that he would have preferred his aunt for a bride, as she had three dragons to her name. If Margaery had the option to marry the other son of Rhaegar Targaryen, who did have dragons, she would have jumped at the chance.

“There is no reason for you not to be able to marry Daenerys Targaryen when she comes to Westeros to help you bring the seven kingdoms to heel.” She heard Connington announce and she felt like something heavy compress her chest.

Margaery had never thought that when she had been a little girl that her husband would want to set her aside to marry his own aunt.

“Then why did I have to marry the Tyrell girl? If I can just set her aside when my aunt comes to Westeros?” Aegon asked with disbelieve in his voice.

She could hear Connington sigh. “You have to stay married to her to keep her father and brothers loyal to you, but your father had two wives’ and so did your namesake, Aegon the conqueror and I see no reason for you not to do the same.”

This statement was followed by silence, and Margaery could feel her hands start to shake with both anger and shock. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing from the lord of Griffin´s Roost.

Even if Aegon didn’t set her aside, it would still cause outrage if he married Daenerys Targaryen while he was still married to her, right?

But so far, people were finding out that Rhaegar had married Lyanna Stark while he was still married to Elia Martell, and no one was really batted an eye. But as far as she knew, people were all saying that Rhaegar Targaryen could marry Lyanna Stark because Elia Martell couldn’t have any more children after Aegon, and that he had needed more heirs. 

But Margaery could have children so there was no reason for Aegon to either to set her aside or take a second wife, and if he did, he would offend the entre Reach. But for some reason when she thought that Aegon would set her aside she felt both fear and relief.

If Aegon set her aside, it would be almost impossible for her to find another husband, as everyone knew that she wasn’t a virgin anymore and the fact that Aegon had set her aside, would make the lords of Westeros think that something was wrong with her. But if he did set her aside, she wouldn’t have to be with him anymore.

The very thought of having him come to her bedchamber again, made her shudder in horror and disgust. Having Aegon come to her bedchamber once at their wedding night was more than enough.

“My father didn’t marry the Stark harlot.” She could make out her husband´s voice as he growled at his lord hand in his anger.

“Aegon, we have had many reports that he indeed married Lyanna Stark, and that Jon Targaryen really is the trueborn son of Rhaegar, and your brother.” Connington sighed tiredly. “I know that it isn’t ideal but at least you have a brother now.” The older man was clearly trying to reason with her husband.

“I don’t want a brother; I want to claim my birthright.” Aegon almost shouted in anger. Silence filled the room for a few moments. “He holds Dragonstone right now through this Davos Seaworth, and we haven’t heard anything about what the lords of the Crownlands are planning to do or if they are going to declare for me or not.”

Margaery had to roll her eyes at those words, if the lords of the Crownlands had indeed intended to declare for Aegon, they would have done so already as they had enough time to send word to Storm´s End.

“We don’t know what they intend to do, but I have heard word from your good-brother Willas Tyrell.” Margaery´s heart skipped a beat when she heard Connington mention her brother, she had longed to hear from him, but she hadn’t been able to send nor receive letters.

Aegon snorted indignantly. “And what did the future lord of Highgarden want? Is the cripple sending the armies of the Reach to meet us on the road to King´s Landing?” When her husband called Willas a cripple, she could feel the anger surge thought her veins, her brother was more than his leg and she hated the fact that people judged him and demeaned him for his disability.

“Lord Willas is sending his armies to Oldtown to defend the city against Euron Greyjoy.” Connington said and she could hear something slam into a table.

“WHAT!?” Aegon shouted in anger and shock. “I had his father tell him to send the Reach army to us so that they could help us take the capitol.”

“He has a duty to defend his people Aegon. If he doesn’t, he won’t be a lord for long.” Connington tried to pacify the King of the seven kingdoms.

She could hear another snort from Aegon. “If he doesn’t help me get my throne and honor the agreement that his father made, he won’t be the lord of Highgarden at all.”

Margaery could feel fear and anger course though her being as she listened to her husband´s words. She hurried away, having decided that she had tempted fate for long enough and made for the bedchamber that she had been occupying for the time she had spent in this castle.

As soon as she closed the door, she sat on the chair in front of the vanity and hid her face in her hands. How could everything, have gone so wrong in such a short amount of time?

She was now married to a man who didn’t want her nor respect her, and he wanted to marry his own aunt, rather than her. All her life, Margaery had been told that men would be fighting for her hand and most would be willing to die for her.

But so far, Aegon didn’t seem even to want to be in the same room as her, and he wasn’t giving her any opportunity for them to start liking each other, and for her to be able to manipulate him into doing what she wanted, like her grandmother had wanted her to do.

Oh, how Olenna Tyrell would be disappointed in her when she would find out that Margaery couldn’t control her husband, like how she had been taught to do.

Over the last few weeks after she had been told by her father that Aegon had a trueborn brother with dragons, she had started to think more and more about how Aegon himself hadn’t provided any proof that he really was Rhaegar´s son.

Every time she thought about that fact, she felt like a fool. She had been so angry and only thinking about how to get revenge on Cersei that she had completely forgotten how Aegon could have been just a son of a Lyseni peasant.

Her husband didn’t seem to think that was the case, but that didn’t mean much to Margaery. No one wanted to believe that they were just smallfolk when they could be Targaryen royalty.

Could her husband be the son of Rhaegar, or was he just a Lyseni peasant boy that Connington had deluded himself into thinking was the son of the last dragon? She shuddered of having married someone who wasn’t a prince, nor not even a noble.

Then her thoughts would turn to the Targaryen to the North. Oh, how she wished that she had married him instead, she didn’t doubt for a moment that he would never have treated her like Aegon was treating her now.

Margaery had heard enough stories about Ned Stark to know that he wouldn’t have raised his nephew, who he was hiding as his bastard, like some pampered prince. Little Sansa Stark had been meek and dim, so it stood to reason that her cousin wasn’t the brightest candle in the library either, so it would be easy to control him.

And it was said that he had dragons, four to be exact and that alone would make him a strong contender for the throne, even stronger than her husband, which made her sigh in irritation.

She was supposed to be Queen, but how could she if she was married to a man who she herself wasn’t certain of being the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, who was contending with a proven trueborn son of Rhaegar who had four dragons to his name and had the backing of the North, which was something that Aegon would never have as he wasn’t of the North, nor did he know anything about it.

Maybe it would be better if she became a widow again, she thought to herself as she stood up from her chair and walked to the window that overlooked the stormy sea.

It would be much easier for everyone if Aegon just died like Joffrey had done, but she knew that suspicion would immediately fall on her and her family, so she would have to bide her time and hope that he either realized his mistake of treating her so horribly or fell in battle, which was not unlikely.

If Aegon would fall, she would be free to marry again, and who would be better than the man who had four living dragons and could make her a Queen?

Chapter Text

SER BARRISTAN

He watched as the council of the Dragon Queen came together in the lofty chambers that they usually met in, but the council now had a new member, Asha Greyjoy.

Asha Greyjoy had done the smart thing and bent the knee to Daenerys, but it wasn’t like she had many options on the matter, as it was either bend or burn.

The old knight had to admit that he was reminded more and more of her father, every time she got like this. The only living sibling to Rhaegar Targaryen seemed to take more and more after their father, much to his grief.

When he had first met her, he had seen so much of Rhaella in her, but now all he could see was Aerys in Rhaella´s body.

The only difference was that this Targaryen actually had a dragon to ride and burn people with. When Barristan had been serving Aerys, he had spent many a night thanking the gods for the fact that the dragons were all dead, as a mad King with a dragon was something too horrible to imagine.

But Daenerys´s control of the black dragon was debatable. It seemed that the dragon didn’t like being controlled and made to do whatever the Queen wanted.

She could ride the great terror, and make him attack things to great results, if the burning of the entire slavers fleet could be considered great, but she never just flew on Drogon for the sheer joy of it, like so many of the dragonriders of old had done.

It was the only thing that Barristan could see in her that was anything like Aegon the conqueror, as he hadn´t gone flying on the black dread for the pure enjoyment of it, as Balerion was so hard to control.

Maybe some dragons weren’t meant to be ridden?

They had been making plans for some time now, and Barristan could see that the Queen was getting very excited to make her way to Yunkai and then Astapor.

“Now, lady Greyjoy.” The Queen turned to Asha Greyjoy, and Barristan could see that the daughter of Balon Greyjoy was greatly annoyed with the Queen of Meereen calling her a lady when she had clearly had her heart set on being the Queen of the iron islands. “Tell me, are there any news of my Queendom?”

Asha Greyjoy looked at the silver haired woman for a moment, and the tension between the two women was choking and the Greyjoy woman was clearly holding her temper in a firm grip. “Well, after your…advisor, lord Tyrion escaped the capital, the Lannisters retook Riverrun, and Sansa Stark reappeared in the North, only to be married to the Bolton bastard.” As soon as the woman mention the Bolton bastard, her brother shuddered with horror as he seemed to be transported somewhere else in his mind for a moment.

“Sansa is with the Boltons?” Tyrion asked shocked and outraged, during their talks the little lord had talked of his young wife and it was always with a fond smile and with great care in his eyes.

Barristan could see the annoyed look on Rhaegar´s sister´s face, but then Theon Greyjoy spoke up. “No, not anymore.” As everyone looked at the last son of the lord of the Iron islands, he seemed to grow very uncomfortable.

“We were both being held captive by Ramsay, but we escaped together, and she left to find Jon Snow at the Wall.” Tyrion´s eyes lit up with hope and relief.

“Lord Stark´s bastard?” Barristan asked the young man who had told them of Sansa Stark´s escape.

And Theon Greyjoy nodded nervously. “Yes, the very same. He will protect her; I am sure of it.”

The annoyed look on the Queen´s face seemed to grow with every word that Theon Greyjoy spoke. But then she looked at Tyrion. “Well at least I can have the North out of the deal.”

Barristan´s small friend turned to look at the Queen with a quizzical look in his face. “What do you mean, your grace?”

Daenerys Targaryen shot the man a pointed look. “You told me that Sansa Stark is the last Stark that is alive, and you are her husband, making you the lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” She seemed very proud of herself to have come to that conclusion, but Barristan knew that the small man was about to dispute her words.

Tyrion cleared his throat. “Your grace, first of all the marriage was never consummated, which will make it invalid in eyes of many of the lords, and there is also the problem that she was a hostage when she said those vows.”

Barristan had to force himself not to smile, Tyrion Lannister always had ways to surprise him.

“What should that matter?” Demanded the Queen as she fixed her furious violet eyes at the small man.

“It does matter, your grace,” Barristan now spoke up, to give the lord Lannister support. “because vows said at sword point are not held valid in the eyes of the Seven.”

Barristan could see that this angered the Queen immeasurably, but they were saved from the unlikeliest source, Theon Greyjoy. “And she isn’t the heir to Winterfell.”

Now it was both Barristan´s and Tyrion´s turn to look at the man in surprise. “What on earth do you mean?” Asked the lord commander of the Queen´s guard.

The Greyjoy lad looked more nervous than he had before. “I didn’t kill Bran and Rickon Stark, they could be somewhere out there, still alive, making either one of them the ruler of the North, before Sansa.”

Silence fell over the room at his words, and Barristan could see the anger burning in the Queen´s eyes at his words. He could almost understand, she had thought for a moment that she already had one of the Kingdoms in her grasp without having set foot in Westeros.

But even if Tyrion´s marriage to Sansa Stark had been valid, the North wouldn’t have submitted to Lannister rule, even if it had been backed by a Queen with a dragon. The Northerners had suffered too much to rest easy with anyone with Lannister blood in Winterfell.

“Is there anything else you know about? Any news that will actually help me in taking back what is mine?” The fury in the Queen´s voice made him want to take a step back as the tensions in the room grew even more, and the Queen of Meereen was clearly holding herself from throwing things by a thread.

“House Martell was mostly wiped out, except for Dorian Martell´s heir, Arianne who escaped, but to where I am not sure.” Said the lady of the iron islands and crossed her arms over her chest and there was a glimmer of enjoyment in her eyes as she watched Queen Daenerys struggle to hold her temper.

But this seemed to interest the Queen. “Who took control of Dorne?” The iron born woman walked over to the table and pored herself a drink.

“The princesses’ cousins and the daughters of the late Oberyn Martell, along with his paramour, Ellaria Sand.” This made both Barristan and Tyrion take a double look at the woman. This news was strange to say the least, as Barristan had always thought that the Martell family was loyal to their own, even the bastards.

“Are they likely to support my cause?” Asked the Queen as she stared at the map on the table, with a faraway look in her eyes.

Tyrion seemed to think of it for a moment. “If it helps them, then I suspect that they will. They will not be likely to support my sister as they seem to hate her too much.”

Barristan was sure that Tyrion was right, no Dornish man or woman would willingly work with the daughter of the man who had ordered the deaths of princess Elia and her children. But Queen Daenerys didn’t look happy enough with his answer.

“What about your uncle?” Queen Daenerys asked the ironborn woman with a raised eyebrow.

Asha Greyjoy snorted as she took a sip of the wine in her cup. “My uncle will not bow to anyone, especially a woman, even if she has a dragon.”

Every person in the room could see the annoyed look on Daenerys´s face when Asha Greyjoy said the word dragon. It was getting more and more clear to everyone that Rhaegal and Viserion were not returning to the city, but the Queen refused to see it and perhaps that was for the best.

She didn’t want to go to Westeros without the two other dragons, and every day that passed that she stayed here, the seven Kingdoms weren’t at war with wild dragons under the dubious control of the Mad King´s daughter.

When he had met the girl at Astapor he had encouraged her to leave for the Seven kingdoms, thinking that she was kind and would be a good ruler, but now after getting to know her more and seeing how much she was alike her father, he realized how foolish he had been.

“Three dragons.” The Queen said coldly. “Rhaegal and Viserion will come to me soon enough.” The look she sent the Greyjoy woman was clearly a warning to her.

She looked back to the map in front of her. “The new rulers of Dorne will side with me, or I will take the kingdom with force.”

Dread filled his belly at her words. “Your grace.” Barristan spoke up. “Not even Aegon the conqueror could take Dorne with force nor could the Kings that came after him. It would be impossible for any man.”

The Queen turned to look at him and he felt the chill freeze in his guts as she echoed the words, she had said in Astapor when she had gone back on her word to the slavers. “I am not a man.”

“There is also another thing I should mention.” Asha Greyjoy smirked coldly at the Queen of Meereen as she placed her cup on the table. “There was talk about a boy going to the Stormlands when we docked in Lys.”

The sellsword Daario snorted. “Oh, how interesting, some boy going to the Stormlands.” The look of irritation on Tyrion´s face matched how Barristan felt exactly.

“That boy is calling himself Aegon Targaryen.” Asha Greyjoy announced coldly as she took a sip of her wine. “And is claiming to be the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and the rightful king of the Seven kingdoms.”

Barristan stared at the woman in stunned silence for a moment. “That is not possible.” He whispered.

It literally couldn’t be possible as he had seen the crushed head of prince Aegon himself, on the floor of the throne room all those years ago.

“That is what I heard in Lys.” Asha Greyjoy said with a nonchalant grin and a shrug.

It was then Barristan could see the begins of a tantrum build in the Queen of Meereen. But thankfully Tyrion asked the Greyjoy girl a question that distracted the silver headed woman.

“Then why are you here, instead of in the Stormlands, declaring for this Aegon?”

The former Queen of the Iron islands shrugged her shoulders. “He hasn’t proved that he is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, nor does he have dragons.” Then she snorted again. “He has even gotten the Golden company to help him take the iron throne.”

“The Golden company.” Daenerys said with a distant look in her eyes. “My brother, Viserys tried to get them to help him take back the Iron throne, but they just laughed at him.”

Tyrion seemed to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. “Of course, they did.” Everyone turned to look at him, but Barristan knew what he was on about. “The Golden company was founded by Aegor Rivers, also known as Bittersteel to get a Blackfyre on the throne, and they are famous for their hatred of the Targaryens.”

For the first time Missandei spoke up. “Then why on earth did they decide to fight for this Aegon.” Her soft voice raised an interesting question.

“Humm.” Tyrion rubbed his chin. “The last I heard was that they had a contract with the free city of Myr.”

Asha Greyjoy spoke up again. “They did, but apparently they broke their contract to go to this Aegon character.”

This news made Barristan frown, the last time the Golden company had broken a contract was when Maelys the monstrous had staked his claim on the Iron throne.

Barristan looked at the smaller man, who he had spent so many evenings talking about everything with, and he could see the realization in his eyes as well. Tyrion turned to Asha again. “Do you know if anyone else was with this Aegon?”

The woman took a seat on the table, much to the Queen´s irritation while Daario leered lewdly at the taller woman. “Yeah, some old man, Jon Connington. Apparently, he knew the dragon prince back in the day.”

Barristan stared once more at the woman, who kept on claiming that dead people were coming back from the grave. The last he had heard of Jon Connington was that he had drunk himself to death while grieving over Rhaegar.

If Barristan had to be honest, he had to admit that he hadn´t liked the former hand of Aerys Targaryen, he was too obsessive and seemed to cling to the silver prince whenever he could.

But he had to admit that if Jon Connington had thought that he had the true son of Rhaegar to fight for, no man alive would fight harder for that boy than him.

“Who is this Jon Connington?” Asked the Queen as she took a seat and fixed her eyes on him.

Barristan sighed. “He served as the hand of your father for a short time, until Aerys replaced him with Qarlton Chelsted, who was burned alive for some reason.”

There was silence for a moment before the Queen´s advisor, Missandei spoke up once again. “But lord Tyrion, you didn’t answer my question, why would the Golden company choose to support this Aegon, if they think that he is a Targaryen?”

“Ah, my apologies.” The small man walked over to the table and poured himself a cup of wine. “I have a theory that maybe they don’t think that he really is a Targaryen.”

This made the other people in the room stare at the man as he continued. “I think that someone may have convinced them that he really is a Blackfyre and the best way to get him on the Iron throne is for everyone in Westeros to believe that he is a Targaryen, so that they don’t rebel against the boy.”

Daario snorted at his words. “Why would they care if he is a Targaryen or a Blackfyre? Isn’t one dragon much like another?”

Tyrion rolled his eyes at the sellsword before he answered. “No, declaring for a Blackfyre when there is a legitimate Targaryen alive would set a dangerous precedence, as the Blackfyre´s are still considered after any Targaryens in the line of succession.”

The small man´s words caused the Queen to look very happy with him, as she raised a cup of wine to her smiling lips.

“But didn’t Aegon the fourth make Daemon Blackfyre legitimate?” Asked Missandei with a curious tone in her soft voice.

But Tyrion smiled at the girl, he clearly enjoyed explaining his outlook on Westerosi inheritance traditions to someone so eager to learn. “Yes, but his descendants only have a claim on the throne if all of his older brother´s, Darion the second, descendants are in fact dead or renounce the throne and their claim.”

The young girl looked thoughtful for a moment. “But didn’t Aegon the fourth prefer his bastard son over his trueborn one?”

Tyrion put the cup back on the table after draining it, and Barristan could see how much Tyrion was enjoying this. “You are absolutely right, he much preferred Daemon over Darion, but while Aegon the unworthy did legitimize Daemon, he didn’t declare him his heir, so Darion remained the heir as he was the older of the two, making his descendants the rightful heirs to the Iron throne.”

“So, you think that this Aegon is a Blackfyre then?” The Queen asked as she fixed her violet eyes on the small man.

The lord Lannister nodded. “All the evidence points to that, your grace.”

The Queen smiled coldly. “A mummers dragon then.” She said with a determined look on her face. “He will die like all those who stand in my way.”

As Barristan looked at the woman, he could only see her father, and for a moment he was sure that he could hear the Mad King cackle like he had always done when he was burning some poor unfortunate soul alive.

JON

The map in front of him showed the Riverlands, but more importantly the map showed the Twins along with the lands surrounding the castle that had been in the Frey family for six-hundred years, or as long the twin castles had stood.

As he studied the map carefully, he ran a hand though his curly hair, to try to tame it after the flight he had just come back from. He had wanted to use the daylight to see the castles from above, and in the process, he and the large dragons had scared the living daylight out of many of the guards and the Freys, which could work to their advantage.

He took a small sip of ale as he watched where the painted likeness of the green fork ran under the bridge. It would be tricky for them to take the castle, as it was one of the most formidable strong holds of Westeros, and the castles could be turned to islands quite easily by digging moats into the channels, and the castle itself had high curtain walls that were easily defended.

Jon sighed and rubbed his chin; he wasn’t eager to let the dragons burn down the whole castle and risking innocent lives along with the hostages that Old Walder was keeping close.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, studying the map, when he heard someone clear their throat behind him.

“Your grace.” Satin was standing there with a worried look on his face. “Ser Brynden and lord Royce are here to see you.” As Jon asked for his steward to let the men in, he could see the troubled look on the young man´s face.

The reason for that worried look was soon made clear to him, as Ser Brynden and lord Royce both entered the tent, and the blackfish looked furious at something.

“What is it?” Jon asked his wife´s grand uncle.

“It is that fucking miserable old cunt, Walder Frey.” The knight spat out in his anger, as he started to stalk up and down Jon´s tent.

Jon could feel the frustration build in him, as he waited for the men to tell him of what the murderous old man had now done.

“He is refusing to negotiate with you, your grace.” Lord Royce said with a tired tone in his voice. “He is also saying that if we aren’t gone from his lands by dawn, he will start executing hostages, staring with Greatjon Umber.”

The Bronze Yohn´s words make Jon frown in confusion. Old Walder was considered one of the most cunning and shrewdest men in the whole of Westeros, but he was refusing to negotiate when he had at least three hostages and one of them was the true paramount of the Riverlands, and he was threating to start killing the hostages at dawn? This just didn’t make any sense.

Of everything Jon had heard of the man, this was not something he had expected, he had expected the man to tie his hostages to strategic places around the castle so that Jon would never dare risk damaging the castle before ever refusing to negotiate.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Ser Brynden stated as he continued his stalking around the tent. “Old Walder isn’t stupid, he knows that he has to treat with us for the sake of his family, he still has a chance to have his family name life on in one of his sons or grandsons that is still a child.”

“Do you think that he suspects that we will kill everyone, even the women and children?” Jon asked the man.

Ser Brynden looked at him as he answered. “No, I highly doubt that, he knows that you were raised by Lord Ned and he held honor in such high regard that the old weasel no doubt expects you to do the same.”

So, if Ser Brynden was right and the old man expected Jon not to risk burning down the castle, then way was he refusing to talk with them?

“What reason did he use when did refused to talk to us?” Jon asked the two men, and immediately Ser Brynden turned angry again as his cheeks started to flush and he seemed to grind his teeth together.

When it became clear that he was too angry to speak, lord Royce explained. “He is saying that he doesn’t trust Northerners after they attacked him and his family under guest rights.”

It was clear in lord Royce tone that he didn’t believe anything that he had said, but his words caused a lot of confusion in Jon.

Why on earth was Old Walder trying to make them believe that Robb had started the Red Wedding? He had to know that they would never believe that, and it would only make them angry.

When he voiced that question to the two other men, Ser Brynden stopped walking around the tent and stared at Jon, and he could see the realization in them as a thought seemed to occur to him. “He isn’t trying to make us believe his lies.” The Blackfish stared. “He is trying to make us mad, like you did with Ramsay Snow.”

Lord Royce looked thoughtful. “That is very likely, but his grace has two dragons, isn’t Old Walder afraid that he will just turn the towers to ash and be done with it?”

“No,” Ser Brynden said, and all anger seemed to have left him. “Robb often spoke about King Jon, and some who listened were Frey men, and they could have told old Walder that his grace would never burn down a castle according to Robb.”

“What makes you think that Old Walder would care about what young Robb thought?” Asked the lord of Runestone with doubt written all over his face.

“Because as much as Robb angered Old Walder, the old weasel knew that he was a smart young man and he is the only source of information he had on King Jon.” The Blackfish said confidently.

“So,” Jon spoke up as he sat down by the table, and as he stretched his legs, it felt weird not to have Ghost there to warm his feet. The white direwolf had gone hunting before they made camp and had yet to return. “We know that Old Walder doesn’t think that I will attack the castle with the dragons to burn them to the ground, so why try and make me angry?”

The lord of Runestone frowned. “Maybe it is to make you attack the castle?”

“But why would he want that?” Asked Ser Brynden in an astonished tone.

Bronze Yohn spoke up again. “Well it could be spun that his grace attacked the castle unprovoked.”

Jon frowned at his words. “But if he wants to spin that story, he needs someone who is trusted and comfortable to lie about it to survi…” Jon tailed off as he figured out Old Walder´s plan, it wasn’t a good plan, but men who had lost all hope often came up with insane ideas they thought could work.

It was the only thing that made any sense, and it did fit Old Walder´s recent actions, as the man was trying to anger him, and make him attack before dawn to try and save the hostages.

Before he could say anything to the two men, Satin hurried into the tent looking pale and surprised. “Your grace, you have to come out and see this.”

“What is it?” Demanded Ser Brynden as he stepped in front of Jon, as to protect him from invisible foes. “Are we under attack?”

It was highly unlikely that they were, as Rhaegal and Viserion would have gone berserk if someone was attacking them.

“No, Ser everything is fine, but his grace needs to see this.” Satin ducked out again, making the others follow him outside.

They made their way to the edge of the encampment, where many of the soldiers and lords had gathered and were muttering and staring at whatever it was that had gripped their attention. When they were finally spotted, approaching the large group of people, a way was hurriedly made for them so that they could see what was going on.

When he finally could see what had created such a ruckus, he almost fell over in shock at what he saw.

There before him was Ghost, looking as happy as a clam with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and beside him was his dark grey sister, Nymeria.

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that this was his little wild sister´s wolf, the only difference between her now and when she had been following Arya around Winterfell, was that she was now full grown.

As he stared into her eyes, he couldn’t help but to wonder if Arya was somewhere around, just waiting to hop out of hiding, with her mud streaked face grinning, and her dark brown hair in tangles. 

But when she didn’t, he felt the disappointment punch him in the gut, but hope still remained, for if Nymeria was here, then Arya could be making her way to him. “Nymeria.” He called, making the dark wolf grin happily like Ghost.

She approached him slowly, like she was trying to show everyone that she wasn’t a threat to anyone, and when she reached him, she nuzzled his hand to get him to pet her.

 “Is that…,” Ser Brynden spoke up, and Jon felt guilty that he had almost forgotten him at seeing Nymeria once again. “Is that Arya´s direwolf?”

“Aye,” Jon replied with a smile. “This is Nymeria.” He gave the smaller direwolf a rub behind the ear that he had remembered she had loved so much. “Do you want to stay with me, until we can find Arya?”

The dark grey wolf licked his hand, making him laugh once again. “I take that as a yes.” He turned to the lords that were watching everything unfold with wide eyes. “My lords, I would like you all to gather in the command tent.”

ARYA

Out of all the faces she had worn, this was the one that she hated the most. But it served to get her inside the Twins without raising too much suspicion.

She discreetly adjusted her barrowed face under the guise of scratching an itch as stood on the battlements and stared at the large army at the gates of the eastern tower of the Twins.

She was still getting over the shock of seeing her beloved brother fly over the castle on the back of the large green dragon, who had roared so loudly that she had thought that she would go deaf.

She may not have seen him for close to four years now, or since she had been eleven and he had been sixteen, but there was no doubt in her mind that the man on the green dragon´s back had been her brother, who had always been there for her, no matter what.

Arya stared at the army for some time, until she heard someone approach her. “Petyr.” She looked at who had spoken to her, and it turned out to be Edwyn Frey, the new heir to the Twins and Petyr´s brother.

“There you are, I haven’t seen you since you returned.” Edwyn was a tall and slender man and he looked like he really needed to find the nearest chamber pot. “I had thought that Black Walder killed you.”

That would have explained why her supposed brother Black Walder had looked at her barrowed face with such surprise when she turned up at the Twins, the angry man had looked like he had seen a ghost.

But this could be played to her advantage. “He didn’t, but not for the lack of trying.” Nothing was worse for inhabitants of a castle under a siege than fighting from within.

She could see the excited look on Edwyn´s face, and for a brief moment she felt sorry for the dead man, who had been killed by his brother, and his other brother´s thoughts were clearly more interested in how to use this to his advantage rather than feeling outraged that Black Walder had killed their brother, or tried to kill him to their belief.

“I knew it, it had to be him.” Edwyn said victoriously and there was a hungry look in his eyes. “We can use this against him.” He then glanced at the army before the gates. “When of course this Northern rabble has been driven away.”

“How on earth do you intend to do that?” She asked with Petyr´s voice. She had tried to think up a hundred different ways for the Freys to win this fight, but she could not see any way for them to actually come out victorious, unless they had dragons of their own.

Edwyn looked more than a little smug when she asked. “That Targaryen whelp will never dare to attack the castle when we have two northern lords in our dungeons and Edmure Tully and his heir.”

His words made Arya want to punch him, this man treated even children who were related to him as hostages to be used to save his treacherous hide.

“How can you be so sure? Maybe his just like his grandfather, the mad King.” Her question made the man laugh.

“Oh, come on Petyr, you don’t believe that? Everyone knows that Ned Stark would never allow the boy to behave like that, and you fought alongside the dead wolf, and you told us that he never shut up about his precious bastard brother.” Edwyn said snidely as he mocked her now murdered brother.

It took everything she had to smother the rage and the urge to run him through with her blade, but with more strength she had thought she had, she managed not to kill that pathetic weasel.

“But more on that later, our great grandfather wants us all in the great hall, so that he can speak with us.” Edwyn lead her down from the battlements, and out of the light of the dying sun as it set in the west.

They finally arrived in the hall that was filled with a large number of weasel-like men who were shouting at one another in anger, as Old Walder sat on his throne of black oak with its tall back carved into the likeness of twin towers with a bridge between them. The old man reminded Arya of a cross between a vulture and a weasel.

But is seemed that no all shared in Edwyn´s trust that the old man could keep them safe from her brother´s wrath.

“Be quiet all of you.” Arya was surprised that the frail man had gotten his hoard of children to be silent. “We have had an army at our gates before.”

A man with a black beard and an angry look stuck on his face that she had learned was Black Walder, one of the men who had helped in the Red Wedding spoke up and Petyr´s brother. “Yes, we have, but never one with two dragons and a man leading them who´s cousin was murdered at a wedding held here.”

Black Walder´s words caused many of the men to agree with him, as they started to shout at the patriarch to try to enter into negotiations so that they wouldn’t all be killed.

“You witless oafs, you think that this Jon Targaryen will trust us after the Red Wedding,” His runny and clouded eyes shot Black Walder and indignant look. “Our best shot at living is to kill one of the hostages at dawn and when the little dragon folds in fear of us killing all the hostages, then we can negotiate some favorable terms.”

Arya could spot the lie in his eyes from across the room, he didn’t believe his own words and she could almost smell the fact that he was planning something.

But the question was, what on earth was he planning?

Arya watched as Lothar Frey walked from amongst the crowd and straight up to the old man and leaned in to whisper in his ears, whatever the man had said, clearly pleased the skeleton that was sitting on the throne as he grinned a toothless grin and nodded at him.

The old man turned to his descendants, as his son turned and walked away only to disappear through a side door. “We shall have a feast, for tonight we shall show these Northerners and Valemen traitors that together we stand.” For some reason all the Freys in the hall started to cheer, with the exception of Black Walder and a few who were still not convinced that Old Walder´s plan would work.

It seemed to her that he was just as suspicious as her of the old man, who was now throwing a feast when there was a large army at his gate, and two dragons.

She watched as the servants started to arrange the hall for the feast that the old man had called for, and the Frey men started to break out wine and start their drinking as the sun has almost set.

Edwyn handed her a cup that was filled with sweet wine, but she didn’t drink it. She had no thirst for Frey wine. “Come brother, lets drink to the great house Frey.”

But then it happened.

A young man with a weak chin barged into the great hall, screaming. “They are attacking the castle.” This made everyone freeze, everyone except Old Walder, who had a glimmer of satisfaction on his face.

“Well go on you cunts, go and defend the walls.” He commanded them to go and do their duty, and Arya decided to go outside as well, as to not to raise suspicions.

She hurried back to the battlements and she could see that the Northern and Valemen army was charging at full speed at the still closed gate.

Then like a hurricane from the north, the pale and golden dragon appeared, roaring he let out a breath of golden flames from his mouth, that smashed into the closed gate of the eastern tower, causing the entire castle to start shaking.

As the portcullis that had been made of the finest steel burned and melted, the two large logs that had held the drawbridge up, just so slightly that no one could have used it to cross to the gate itself, broke, making the way into the castle clear to the invading army.

The pale dragon flew high into the air, with arrows flying after him, but they didn’t do more damage to him than a pine needle would do to a person, as they broke on his scaly hide.

The guards still screaming with fear abandoned their posts and ran blindly as far as they could from the wrath of the pale dragon, fearing that next the dragons would try and burn them.

From the battlements she stared transfixed at the vast army as it charged through the broken and burning gate and rode into the castle and started to subdue anyone that tried to mount a defense.

At seeing the army charge into the castle, Arya hurried down from the battlements, and she took a refuge in one of the hidden alcoves she had found.

She ripped the face of Petyr pimple of her own and threw it away, it had no more use to her.

From the safety of the alcove, she could hear the thundering of the warhorse’s hoofs, and the roars of the angry dragons.

Arya took a deep breath and exited the safety of the darkness and returned back into the dim courtyard that was filled with battle cries and screams of the Freys and the last of their guards. A passing Frey tried to run at one of the horse men that was a part of Jon´s army, and as quick as a snake, she stabbed him though his chest at a weak spot in his armor.

It was then when she saw him, he was astride a ink back warhorse, with the crown of Aegon the conqueror on his head and with a hand and a half valyrian steel sword in his hand, and she was sure that no man looked more Kingly than her favorite brother did at that moment.

She could see Ghost following him with Nymeria not far after them, as she ripped out a throat of a Frey that dared to go to close to Jon.

Again, the pale dragon flew over breathing out his fames and bringing the dark world around them light. The dragons where flying over the castle and breathing fire, but they didn’t seem to be trying to hit anything, but only to add to the fear that the Freys were no doubt feeling.

She was drawn out of her thoughts by a cry, and she cursed herself to have been distracted by her happiness of seeing her brother again.

She could see Black Walder drag a young man of his horse, and there was murder in the eyes of the angry man who had killed his own brother. Without thinking, she rushed forward and slashed at the man´s throat with Needle, so it opened causing blood to spray all over the young man on the ground and staining his white and already red armor with blood.

The short young man stared at her with surprise in his eyes as he stuttered a thank you to her. But Arya was only half listening, her eyes immediately started to look for Jon, who had disappeared into the battle, along with Ghost and Nymeria.

The man stood up and he was pale from the shock of having almost died. “Thank you, my lady, I am eternally grateful for your help.” The battle that had raged around them had mostly died down in their vicinity so they could talk without fearing that they would get stabbed.

“My name is Ser Japer Redfort, of house Redfort and the heir of lord Horton Redfort.” She stared at him for a moment and she could only wonder at how many times this man could work the word Redfort into a conversation.

“May I inquire about your name my lady?” He spoke and the hopeful look lit up his face.

Arya gave him a long look as the green dragon flew from North to south and breathed out a furious emerald flame, making everything around them bathed in a green glow.

“I am Arya Stark of Winterfell.”

Chapter Text

MELISANDRE

She stared into the flames of the great brazier and she could see him in the flames.

The hall of flames was filled with priests and priestesses of R´hollor all who were arguing with one another, and the flame of truth was still as silent as he had been after he had looked into the flame at her behest.

It was like the man had gone into many weeks of shock after seeing the truth in the flames, and he wasn’t showing any signs of coming out of it soon.

So, Melisandre had taken it upon herself to call all the high-ranking priests and priestesses of the lord of light, and right now most of them had come, the only one she hadn’t seen yet was Kinvara. Not that Melisandre was grieved that she wasn’t there.

They had always butted heads and as far as Melisandre had heard, priestess Kinvara was one of the more fanatical followers of Daenerys Targaryen. Not that Melisandre herself was in much of a position to judge Kinvara for that, as Melisandre had been the very image of a fanatic when she believed Stannis to be the Azor Ahai.

However, she knew that if she would be fought by anyone when she claimed that the Targaryen girl wasn’t the promised prince, it would be from Kinvara.

While most of the priests had been convinced that Jon or Aenar Targaryen was the true prince that was promised, there were still few that didn’t believe what they saw in the fires and called it a trick. And there where even those who didn’t want to admit that they had made a mistake in identifying the real prince and wanted to continue to say that it was Daenerys who was the savior, just to that they could save face in the public´s eyes.

Before the lord of light had taught her humility and Stannis had died, she would have called it a trick too and she would most likely have unwilling to see what the lord of light was trying to show her, but now she knew the truth that she had refused to see for so long.

She glanced at the High priest who was still staring into the fire, as quiet as he had been, ever since he had seen the truth.

Even when the doors were thrown open with a bang, the man didn’t flinch or stir from the fires of the Red god. No, the man just kept on staring into the flames like he was in a trance.

Melisandre looked to the door and see could see Kinvara was making her way to the great brazier with the angriest look on her face, and she was almost as red as her robes as her face had turned so red in her anger.

“What in R´hollor´s name is going on here? Why have I been sent for High priest Benerro?” The woman demanded in her sultry voice. “I have been working my way into making contact with Azor Ahai reborn and helping to spread the message of truth that Daenerys Targaryen will save us all from the darkness.” She finished smugly as she stared at Melisandre, and it was clear that Kinvara was enjoying the fact that Melisandre had been wrong about Stannis.

Moqorro, the black flame looked at the woman who had just arrived at Volantis, then he stepped forward with his white hair that flowed like the mane of a lion, glowing orange in the light of the great brazier. “We are the slaves of R’hollor and serve him, not ourselves and our pride.”

The man´s deep voice made everyone stop their bickering and look at him. Moqorro was the only red priest that commanded as much respect as High priest Benerro did, and perhaps even more.

His words made Kinvara stare at him with her dark eyes burning. “Of course, Moqorro, but I was making my way into the confidence of Queen Daenerys, surely that is more important than anything else.”

“It is not.” Said the man and every person in the held their breath as he spoke. “The most important thing it to follow the will of the R´hollor.”

“And I am,” Kinvara insisted. “by supporting the true promised prince.” When she said the word true, she glared at Melisandre.

“You are not.” Melisandre said with confidence as she stood tall by the great brazier. “You are following the false prince.”

“Lies,” Her words made the other woman turn even redder as Melisandre spoke the truth to her. “you are lying, just because your precious Stannis died you are doing everything in your power to make sure that the real Azor Ahai doesn’t get the support of the servants of the lord of light.”

“You have seen the truth in the flames, haven´t you Kinvara?” Melisandre asked in a conversational tone, knowing that her calm demeanor was only serving to make Kinvara even angrier.

But Kinvara just shook her head at her. “The vision is one of your tricks, they may work on those with weak minds, but I will not be fooled by the likes of you.”

“The flames cannot be tricked.” The low voice of High priest Benerro carried over to them, for the first time in weeks. His voice was raspy with the lack of use, but there was no misunderstanding his words. “No one here was the power to fool the flames lit by our lord.”

His statement was followed by a deafening silence as everyone stared at the man.

“He is right.” Moqorro said as he nodded his agreement with the other man. “No one can fool the flames, no matter how powerful.”

But Kinvara said nothing as she stared at the men in front of her. Then she shook her head once again. “You have seen the same thing as I have in the flames, you have seen Daenerys Targaryen purify nonbelievers by the thousands, she has woken dragons from stones, and she is the chosen one of R´hollor.”

Melisandre smiled at her words. “The real prince is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, of old Valyria and the first men, of fire and ice.” Kinvara stared at her with such hate that Melisandre was sure that soon she would catch on fire.

“I can see what you are doing.” She spat at Melisandre in her fury. “And you may have fooled them, but you cannot fool me so easily, I am a servant of the lord of light and will serve the prince that was promised.”

“Kinvara,” Moqorro thundered and slammed his iron staff into the floor, causing green flames to spit out of the mouth of the dragon head at the top. “You have looked into the flames and seen Aenar Targaryen with your own eyes in the flames, you have seen that he has also woken dragons from stone, he was brought back to life by the grace of R´hollor and he is the heir, it can only be him.”

Melisandre could see that all attempts to reason with Kinvara were falling on deaf ears. “Daenerys Targaryen is the rightful Queen, and she is the prince that was promised,” The woman looked at Melisandre again with her dark eyes. “I will not be fooled by your mummery or your new false prince.”

With those words she turned to the other priests that had been listening. “I will be keeping faith with R´hollor and the real prince, Daenerys Targaryen,” She glanced at Melisandre, Moqorro and the High priest. “and I will not be abandoning her when someone more convenient comes along, that I would be able to bend to my will and those of you who are in agreement with me, I encourage you to follow me and spread the word of the true Azor Ahai.”

With those words the woman stormed out of the temple, but regretfully she wasn’t alone, as some priests and priestesses followed her, but thankfully most of the servants of R´hollor stayed in the temple, deciding on following the lead of the High priest and Moqorro.

Moqorro turned to the High priest. “Benerro, we should not let them leave, at this moment we cannot afford a break in the faith.”

Melisandre was in agreement with the large man, Aenar Targaryen needed their undivided support right now. But the High priest just shook his head at Moqorro´s words. “No, if R´hollor didn’t convince Kinvara and the others, then it must be a part of his plan.”

Melisandre and Moqorro looked at one another, they knew that this would end in trouble for everyone.

“Moqorro,” The high priest said as he kept his eyes firmly on the flames of the great brazier. “You should leave for the Sunset Kingdoms, so that you may council Azor Ahai. He will need all the help he can get.”

Moqorro nodded his head. “I will do as our lord commands and leave for the Sunset Kingdoms immediately.”

As the large man turned around and started to walk out of the temple, Melisandre decided to hurry after him. “Moqorro, wait for a moment.”

His dark eyes fixed themselves on her. “Melisandre, will you be coming with me to Westeros and help to guide the young King?”

But the priestess shook her head. “No, the prince has made it clear that I cannot return to Westeros after my crimes, but there are a few things that I think you need to know as you set sail west.”

The man leaned on his iron staff. “Yes, you have met the prince, perhaps you have some insight that could aid me in my mission.” He seemed almost eager to hear what she had to say, as did many of the priests around them, as they tried to be discreet in listening in on their conversation.

“Yes, I hope so.” She knew that what she had to say wouldn’t exactly make the man in front of her happy, and neither would the priests around her be happy with her words. “I must warn you that it would not be a good idea to try and convert Aenar Targaryen, he is of the old gods and holds to his believes firmly.”

Moqorro frowned at her words as she continued. “And I would also try to discourage you from sacrificing those who do not believe in our lord to the flames, it will not end well for you if you go down that road.”

One of the priests that had been listening as she talked to the man, snorted in his anger. “Then why bother with this Aenar Targaryen if he will not respect our believes and our traditions?” Melisandre could see that his words were resonating with some of the priests. “Perhaps Kinvara is right in believing that he is a false prince.”

Melisandre now turned to the priest that had spoken, he was young and had clearly been given to the temple by a rich family, judging by his manner of speech. “I saw the body of Jon Snow when the traitors had murdered him, and I tried to resurrect him but failed. Then he was placed on the pyre by his faithful men and four stones were placed on the pyre with him, and as the smoke of the flames rose high and the flames colored the stars red and  his cousin cried salty tears of grief, he rose again with his dragons.”

During her speech she had started to walk closer to the man. “You saw this in the flames, and you know in your heart that no one can fabricate such a thing in the flames.”

The man didn’t say anything and only stared at her in silence, then she turned and addressed everyone in the temple as they had clearly stopped everything to listen what she had to say. “The lord of light brought back Azor Ahai when I could not, and it was R´hollor that chose him to lead us against the Great Other for a reason.”

She turned to face Moqorro, for it was him that she knew that she had to convince, if he truly intended to sail west and help the King in the battle for the Dawn. “R´hollor chose a man of the old gods to be his champion for a reason, and it is not for us to question the will of the lord of light, only to follow.”

Moqorro hummed in thought. “I will sail to the Sunset Kingdoms, and I will keep your council in mind when I met King Aenar Targaryen.”

CERSEI

She watched her little boy play with his kittens on the floor with a large smile on his face, never comprehending the danger they were now in.

Cersei picked up a grape from the golden plate on the table and eat it, it was sweet and delicious, and pared well with the Arbor gold that she was drinking and the cheeses she had brought forward for her and her little boy to snack on.

The sound of a door opening and closing signaled that Qyburn had entered the room, most likely to tell her some news that he had heard. “My Queen.” He gave her a deep bow in respect. “I have news.”

She smiled at herself and stood up, making Qyburn follow her to the window so that her little lion cub couldn’t overhear them. “What news?”

She had been waiting anxiously for news from the North ever since the rumors had started, but it had been difficult for Qyburn to gather much news of late much to her aggravation, and she was quickly running out of patience with how long it was taking him.

“It seems that the rumors are true, and Jon Targaryen indeed does have two larger dragons as well as his four smaller ones, and he is now moving south with an army and the two larger dragons.” The man´s kindly face seemed to look fearful for a moment.

She glanced at her little boy who was playing happily with his kittens and she could feel fear swarm her veins. Tommen was the last of her children, both Joffrey and Myrcella had been murdered, Joffrey by her hateful little brother and that whore Sansa Stark, and Myrcella by those treacherous Sand snakes.

But she would have her revenge on them all, they had taken her golden children away from her, and for that they would pay dearly.

“Are the scorpions ready?” She asked him, she knew that they would need them against this Jon Targaryen and his dragons.

Every time she thought of that little bastard, she was filled with such burning anger that she had a hard time containing herself.

She should have been the one that Rhaegar had risked everything for by running away to marry, she should have been the one who´s beauty started wars, not that harlot Lyanna Stark, who had looked more like a little boy than a woman.

She, Cersei Lannister who was known to be the most beautiful woman in Westeros and was always referred to as the light of the West, had been worthy of becoming the lover and bride of the beautiful Dragon prince.

Lyanna Stark hadn´t been worthy and it had been proven when that whore had died after birthing her little whelp and dying in the process, while Cersei herself had given birth to three beautiful and perfect children and been just fine.

“We have built two scorpions; your grace and the men are in the process of mounting them on the walls of the Red Keep.” The irritation only grew at his words.

“Only two? I would have thought that you had finished at least ten by now.” She demanded harshly, the man had all the wealth of the West to help him in building those dragon killing weapons and he was telling her that they had only finished building two of them.

“Your grace, you have been very generous with your gold, but we are lacking craftsman to build them and many of the supplies we need, like iron and steel.” His words caused her to frown.

“Then buy the things we need and hire more craftsmen.” Why did she always have to tell every man that she met how to do their jobs? Why couldn’t they just think?

“Your grace, there is nowhere we can by them from and we have hired all the craftsmen left in the city.”

Cersei stared at the man in apprehension. “What on earth do you mean? Surely, we can buy them from somewhere and have them sent here, we have more than enough gold.”

But the man shook his head. “No, your grace. We cannot, as the fleet of the Crownlands and the Northern fleet are blocking any access to the capital by sea, and we are locked in by the lords of the Stormlands and the Crownlands.”

Cersei turned away from the man and looked out the window, out there was the ruin of the sept of Baelor, at first it had been a monument to her triumph, but now it was a reminder of the slipperiness of her enemies.

She had hoped that it would have killed that smirking whore Margaery Tyrell, and the rest of the family that was in King´s Landing, but by some cruel twist of fate, they had managed to escape justice and hide under the skirts of that Aegon brat, who Qyburn assured her was not the real son of Rhaegar and that weak Elia Martell.

“Then have supplies and men send from the West, surely the faithful bannermen of my late father have not abandoned us.” She ordered Qyburn, with all the sternness of her late father.

“As you wish your grace, but I have to warn you, that it will be hard for the man to send any supplies as all the fighting men are in the Riverlands with your brother, and if this Aegon manages to move through the Stormlands, he will reach the capital long before Ser Jaime will reach us.” Qyburn sounded genuinely uneasy when he said those words to her, Cersei had never heard the man uneasy before.

But at the very name of her twin, she could feel fury once again, she had sent him a letter begging him for help and she hadn´t even gotten a reply from him. Nothing for months, not a word, once again proving to her that you could never rely on a man to do anything.

“Then send letters to all the bannermen sworn to Casterly Rock and tell them that the lady of the Rock is ordering them to the capital, and they are to bring us all the supplies we need to build the scorpions.” Cersei smirked to herself, with her father dead and Jaime sworn to the King´s guard, she was the heir to the West and the heir to her father.

She smiled to herself for her foresight at talking Jaime into the King´s guard. It had been a stroke of genius on her part, and now that he had said his vows, he was effectively removed from the line of succession to the Rock, making her the legitimate heir.

“As you command your grace. But there is more news for you to hear.” She turned her back to the window and looked at her closest advisor. “It seems that Jon Targaryen has married his cousin Sansa Stark, and he has the complete support of all the North as he has taken Barrowton, from lady Dustin, and the support of the Vale.”

Cersei stared at the small man, as she remembered the prophecy that Maggy the frog had told her when she had been a child, a younger and more beautiful Queen would come and take all that you hold dear. Was the younger and more beautiful Queen, Sansa Stark all along? 

Had that little whore decided to marry her cousin and send him south to take her revenge on Cersei and kill her last living child in dragon fire?

Sansa Stark would never get her hands on her beautiful little babe, and neither would her husband. Cersei glanced at her beautiful little boy, who was nothing but kind and good, and she felt so much fear for him that she could hardly speak.

Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds.

Those words haunted her now even more than they had before.

But Qyburn´s words caused warning bells to ring in her head, Littlefinger was the lord protector of the Vale, and if the knights of the Vale had declared for this Northern bastard, it meant that Baelish had also betrayed her.

She clenched her cup so tight that her hand started to shake and with a scream she threw the cup out the window.

“HOW DARE HE, HOW DARE THAT WHOREMONGER BETREY ME AFTER ALL THAT I HAVE DONE FOR HIM?” She turned back to Qyburn as he stood there waiting for her orders. “I want Littlefinger dead, do you hear me? I want him dead.”

“Your grace, Baelish has already been executed, by Jon Targaryen.” Cersei stared at the man in surprise before letting out a loud laugh. So, the little Targaryen whelp was just as mad as his grandfather, executing the man who had brought him the Vale, this was the best news she had heard in a long time.

“So, what was his crime? Did Littlefinger stare at him for too long?” She asked Qyburn with a smirk as she walked back to the table and poured herself another cup of sweet Arbor wine.

“No, your grace, apparently he was found guilty of selling Sansa Stark to the Boltons and selling lord Eddard Stark to you, your grace.” Cersei almost spat out the wine she had been sipping on and stared at the man with wide emerald eyes.

“So, it was Littlefinger who helped that harlot escape from the capital.” Out of the corner of her eye she could see her little cub stare at her in fright, which made her feel even more annoyed than before, Tommen was too much like his father when he had been a child, and not enough like Cersei had been.

Jaime had always been the weak one out of the two of them.

She turned her emerald eyes to the man in front of her. “I want that whore Sansa Stark and her stupid husband dead; do you hear me?”

The man bowed. “Of course, your grace, it shall be done.”

She started to make her way to her little golden cub, when suddenly they could hear yelling and shouting from the city.

The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and her closest advisor made their way to the window, and Cersei could see that there were the beginnings of another riot breaking out in front of the gate of the Red Keep.

“Another bread riot, your grace.” Qyburn said in a disinterested tone. “That would be the third one this month.”

She wanted nothing more than to slap him for his words, he was starting to get more and more on her nerves with each passing day, but he was very useful, so she kept him around, for now.

“Send out the guards to quash this one too, and make sure that they put the heads of those who instigated this riot, on the Red Keep´s walls to warn against this in the future.” She commanded him as she walked back to her little cub, she hated it when the smallfolk started to make such noise, it was so tedious.

JON

As soon as they got to the castle doors, Jon vaulted of the horse and he made his way into the castle as his battle guard followed him like lost puppies, along with Ghost and Nymeria, who were looking around for any potential danger that might come their way.

He just hoped his plan would work.

All the guards of the castle had surrendered, making it easy for them to take it, and as he made his way through the eastern tower of the Twins, he could see that his men had already started to round up the occupants of castle.

Women and children were looking afraid but unharmed, as Jon had made it clear, that any man caught raping or harming innocents would be sent to the Wall, without exception. War was bad enough without adding such horrors on those who couldn’t defend themselves.

The Flint of the mountain clans walked over leading a terrified Frey guards’ man. “This one knows were the dungeons are and has volunteered to lead us there.”

Jon had to fight the urge to shake his head, as the young man that the Flint was leading, didn’t look like he had volunteered to do anything, but was just too terrified to refuse the big man gripping his arm.

Stark and Targaryen guards headed on before them to make sure that they wouldn’t be ambushed by Freys that had decided to hide and kill them on the way to the dungeons to liberate the prisoners that Old Walder had kept in his dungeons for months now.

They made their way to the dark and damp dungeons, and Jon could hear the roars of the dragons above them, even all the way down here, and they could feel the castle shake whenever either dragon passed over the castle.

Jon and his men, walked slowly down the stairs that the young guard was leading them down, and he could hear the sounds of boots on damp stone and direwolf claws on stone, and Jon could feel the dread in his stomach build up with every step he took.

Ser Brynden had insisted on going down to the dungeons ahead of Jon as he didn’t want him to come to any harm. And not for the first time Jon was sure that the man would be an excellent King´s guard.

He could hear Ghost and Nymeria pant from behind him as they walked even deeper into the bowels of the eastern tower of the Twins.

It felt like an eternity before they finally came to the dungeons and they could see long rows of iron barred doors and the only light and warmth came from two torches that were by the entrance of the dungeons.

But the smell was overwhelming, the dungeon smelled of shit and piss and of rotting meat, and Jon´s eyes started to water from the horrid odor that threatened to make him vomit.

“Is there anyone in here?” The Flint called out in a suspicious tone that echoed throughout the dank dungeon.

There was silence for a few seconds before a hoarse voice responded. “Aye, we are in here Torghen.” Even though his voice was low and hoarse, Jon recognized Greatjon´s voice immediately, he had heard it before when the man had visited Winterfell, and he was not a man that one forgot easily, especially when one had a memory like Jon.

Jon hurried after the Flint to the cell where they had heard Greatjon´s voice come from. Jon had tried to prepare for what he would see they would find the hostages, but all the preparation would never be enough.

The once large and broad Greatjon Umber, was still as tall as Jon remembered him being, but the man had lost a lot of his muscle mass and his once fierce brown hair and beard was now in dirty grey tangles, and his ratty clothing hung on his skinny frame like curtains.

The heir to Newcastle and White Harbor had once been a fat man with a walrus like mustache, but like the Greatjon he had undergone a transformation that made him much harder to recognize, now he looked like someone had drained all the fat from his body and he had a grey beard that hung to his chest.

Jon could hear Nymeria let out a whine from behind him, as he stared at the two men in front of him in their cell.

Both men were chained up to the wall and as the guards came with more torches so that the dim dungeons could be lit up, Greatjon looked at Jon with wonder in his eyes. “Ned…is that you? I thought you were dead.”

Jon was so surprised that he couldn’t find any words to say. But Torghen Flint found a few words. “No, Greatjon, that is his nephew, King Jon Targaryen. He is lady Lyanna´s boy.”

The man seemed bewildered at The Flint´s words. “Ned´s nephew? Lyanna´s boy?” The man seemed so surprised and weak from his treatment at the hands of the Freys that he couldn’t even muster the energy to ask more questions.

Ser Wylis was also staring at Jon with shock in his eyes, but Jon turned to the guards and asked them to help them upstairs and find them a maester to look them over, but as the two men left they glanced at the cell in front of them and they looked like they wanted to say something as the guards lead them away.

Jon heard Nymeria let out another whine and he turned to look at her to see what the matter was, as the men started to investigate the other cells. Both direwolves were staring into the dark cell that directly in front of the one that Ser Wylis and Greatjon had been involuntarily occupying.

Cold horror slithered in his stomach as he reached out for a torch from one of the guards and slowly opened the cell door to see what was inside.

As he stepped into the cell and the fire of the torch lit up the small cell, Jon felt the bile rise up in his throat. At first, what he was seeing didn’t really make much sense to him, it looked like a pile of dirty clothes that were covered in dirt and mud had been thrown into the cell, and there was some large animal that had been dug up from the ground as well only to be left to rot beside the clothes.

Suddenly he heard a buzz in his ears that blocked every other sound that tried to reach him as he slowly walked closer to the pile of rags on the ground. Nymeria went over to the large unknown animal on the ground and laid down by it, and stared mournfully at it, making Jon sure of what he was seeing.

Jon knelt by the clothing pile, and slowly he uncovered what was underneath it.

What stared back at him made him want to vomit, and he was sure that he would never get the image before him out of his mind.

What stared back at him was the dirty remains of his cousin´s body, complete with Greywind´s head attached to Robb´s shoulders, and Robb´s dirty rotten decapitated head staring blindly up to the ceiling.

Jon didn’t know how long he knelt there in the cell, frozen and unable to move while staring at the remains of the man who had been his best friend as long as Jon could remember, when finally, the buzzing sound stopped and Ser Brynden´s voice broke though the haze of horror that had washed over him.

 “Your grace.” The older man stared at him with concerned eyes. “We need to go upstairs.” The man´s voice was cracking with horror and grief as he took the torch from Jon, helped him up and turned him around and they walked together out of the cell.

“We need to find lord Edmure.” Jon said in a low empty voice as he tried to keep the image out of his mind. He could hardly feel anything but cold emptiness as the older man lead him away from the desecrated remains of his brother, and he had to concentrate on not shaking as they made their way out of the cell.

The older man put his hand on his shoulder and turned him a little, and Jon could see a man of thirty years, who looked haggard and pale and his red hair was wild. This man looked just like Robb and Ser Brynden and couldn’t be anyone but Edmure Tully.

It was almost too much for Jon to see Robb´s older look alike being led towards them.

“Uncle?” Lord Edmure seemed torn between happiness and devastation. “They have my son, Uncle Brynden. Please they have my son.”

“It´s alright, we will find your son, Edmure.” Ser Brynden said in a calming tone, then he turned to the guard that were flanking lord Edmure and giving the man worried glances. “Take my nephew out of here and place him in the care of a maester.”

The two guards lead the protesting Edmure away, as he tried to insist that he was needed to help with the search of his son.

Ser Brynden turned back to Jon. “Your grace, you need to get some rest.” Jon couldn’t disagree with the man, but there were somethings he had to do before he could close his eyes.

“We need to get Robb and Greywind out of here.” He managed to croak out as the horror and sadness threatened to overwhelm him. “We need to get them ready for the trip back to Winterfell and for burial.”

The older man looked him straight in the eye. “Jon, you don’t have to do everything for yourself, the silent sisters will take care of Robb and Greywind, meanwhile you need to rest, your people need you.” The Blackfish squeezed his shoulder firmly. “Let the sisters do their job, they will prepare them for the journey North to Winterfell.”

Jon could see the man´s logic, even though he felt that it was his duty to see to Robb and Greywind, the shock and exhaustion was starting to take its toll on him. “Alright, let the sisters ready them for the journey North, but I will stand vigil for them when the sisters are done.”

That was the least Jon could do for his brother, after all the horror that had happened to him.

Chapter Text

ARYA

The hall was filled with quiet whispers and groans of the injured, and it bore no resemblance to the hall when it had been filled with weasel faced Freys, that had lived in that belief that they could stand against the onslaught of the army at their gates, before Jon´s dragon had burned the gate in golden flames and let in the army that had come from the North.

She cleaned the blood of Needle as she sat in the great hall of the eastern tower, while she waited for Ser Jasper to come back, hopefully with his father in tow, so that he could ask for an audience with her brother.

Arya could have just sneaked off and tried to find Jon by herself, but this seemed so much easier and cleaner, than giving Jon a heart attack by just appearing in front of him, just after a battle.  And it saved her time that she would have to search the tower for her brother when one of his lords could just escort her to him.

She was glad however that the dragons had stopped their roaring and breathing fire as they flew over the castle, which had made everything around them so much calmer, as the tower had now stopped shaking as the dragons had flown low over it.

Arya watched as one of the men from Jon´s army lead one of the grandsons of Walder Frey from the great hall, where he had been getting his injures tended to, to the dungeons were she had overheard that they would be waiting until they would stand trials.

The doors of the great hall opened, to reveal a short but a strong looking woman holding a bundle in her arms. The woman looked soaked to the bone like she had been playing in the river that ran under the bridge, as she headed straight to the maester who had just finished tending to a guard.

As the door to the great hall closed behind the woman, Arya could hear yelling and shouting, and she was sure that she recognized one of the voices as that of Lothar Frey.

The woman with the bundle was looked very familiar to Arya, and when she handed the bundle to the maester, Arya could see a familiar looking crest on her armor, a black bear in a green wood. House Mormont of Bear island.

The woman had to be the ruling lady of Bear island, as she looked just like how Arya´s father had described her, and she was bearing the sigil of the house of Mormont.

Her father had always spoken well of the Mormonts of Bear island, except for Ser Jorah Mormont that had run away to Essos to escape from justice when he had been found guilty of selling slaves.

She stood up and sheathed Needle and walked to the woman. “Lady Maege Mormont.” The woman turned around and fixed her fierce eyes on her. As the woman looked her over, a frown appeared on her face, making her looking even fiercer.

“Aye, do I know you girl?” Lady Maege Mormont placed her hands on her hips, drawing Arya´s eyes to the spiked mace that was fastened on her hips. “You don’t look like a Frey.”

Arya grinned toothily at the woman´s words. “I should hope not.”

Lady Maege let out a snort. “But you do look very familiar, have we met before?”

Arya shook her head. “No, we have never met lady Mormont, but you knew my father.”

“Lady Arya.” She heard Ser Jasper call from behind her, making her eye twitch in annoyance of being called a lady.

Immediately when Ser Jasper called her name, the woman´s eyes turn to the size of dinner plates, as she put two and two together.

“Lady Arya?” the ruling lady of Bear island said in an almost whisper. The woman studied her face. “You look just like lady Lyanna.”

Arya had often heard her father say that she was just like her aunt, Lyanna. But she had never believed it, but the wonder and amazement in the other woman´s eyes, could almost convince her.

“Lady Arya.” Ser Jasper said again as he finally made his way up to them, with an older man alongside him, that looked strikingly a lot like him. “This is my father, lord Horton Redfort, the lord of the Redfort.”

The younger man turned and looked at his father. “Father, this is lady Arya Stark of Winterfell, she saved my life from Black Walder Frey, when he dragged me of my horse and intended to end my life.”

“My lady,” lord Redfort´s face was pale as he addressed her with gratefulness shing in his eyes. “Words cannot express the gratitude I feel that you saved my oldest son and heir, if there is anything me or mine can ever do for you, you only need to ask.”

“Thank you lord Redfort, but there is something that I need from you, I need to see my brother, Jon.” Lord Redfort looked awkward for a moment.

“My lady, the King is indisposed at the mome-.” The man was interrupted by the lady of house Mormont.

“Oh, come of its Horton. This is the King´s cousin, Arya Stark, he will be over the moon to meet her once again. Take her to his grace, I would do it myself, but I don’t know where he is as I just came back.”

The lord of the Redfort looked between Arya and the lady of Bear Island before sighing. “You are probably right; his grace will be comforted by having someone from his family by his side at this trying time.” His words made Arya frown as the fear started to cut her like swords.

“What happened to my brother?” She demanded, and she couldn’t keep the anxiety out of her words.

“The King is fine, physically. But the King and his battle guard went to the dungeons to find the prisoners, and while they were there, they…” The man trailed off with his eyes down cast, and it was just like whatever they had found was too horrible for words.

“I need to talk to Jon.” Arya said in a firm voice. She needed to find Jon and fast to make sure that he was alright.

The older man nodded and led her out of the great hall. As they made their way to through the castle, the nerves built up more and more all though her body.

They finally arrived at a large wooden door with ornate carvings on it, and it was clear to Arya that this was Jon´s room while they were staying here.

Her body was drawn as tight as a bow sting drawn fully back, and she had to stop herself from shuffling from one foot to the other as the anticipation threatened to overtake her, at the prospect of finally meeting her brother again.

Lord Redfort knocked on the wooden door, and they waited for an answer. They waited for what felt like hours but were most likely less than a minute.

A young boy with the biggest eyes she had ever seen answered the door. “Lord Redfort, is there something I can do for you?” He glanced at Arya with a frown, like he was trying to figure out where he had seen her before, before his eyes darted back to lord Redfort.

“This is lady Arya Stark, come to see his grace, her cousin.” Arya had to fight down the irritation of being called a lady once again over such a short period of time, but she would suffer it for now.

The young man´s already big eyes doubled in size when he heard her name mentioned, he gestured for her to enter, as he thanked Lord Redfort for bring her here.

He led her into a large roomy solar where both Ghost and Nymeria were resting by the fire in a gigantic hearth, making her smile. Both direwolves spotted her as she entered and made their way to greet her.

Arya hugged Nymeria around the neck and she let out a laugh as Ghost licked her face, and she could hear the young man behind her speak. “Well, I can see that you truly are his grace´s cousin.”

Arya sent him a questioning look as she let Nymeria go, making him let out a laugh. “I have never seen Ghost take to someone like this that wasn’t either his grace himself or a Stark.”

She was about to ask him more, but he just sent her sad smile, saying that he was informing Jon of her arrival as he walked into adjourning room.

Arya turned to look at the direwolves once again as the young man went to fetch her brother, and now when she had time to study him for a bit, she was in a bit of awe how large Ghost had grown in the time she hadn´t seen him. He had grown to be the biggest one of the direwolves very quickly when they were in Winterfell, but this was just ridiculous as he was now the size of a garron, effectively eclipsing Nymeria.

As she petted the large wolves, she could hear talking behind the door, and then she could hear the sound of someone rushing out of a tub, followed by loud cursing.

She would have laughed at all the banging and cursing that followed if she wasn’t so anxious to finally reunite with Jon again. There were thousands upon thousands of butterflies fluttering around in her belly and she could feel her hands start to shake just at the thought of meeting Jon again. 

It felt like eternity before the door was finally thrown open, and her tall brother was standing framed into it, completely soaking from a bath and only clad in black trousers, leaving horrible looking scars clearly visible to her as he stared at her with his Valyrian steel grey eyes that were red from crying and were filled with wonder and surprise. “Arya.” He whispered softly.

They stood there staring at one another for a few moments, and she could feel something warm and wet run down her cheeks and it took her a few seconds to realize that it was tears. “Jon.” There was nothing else she could choke out as she lunched herself at him.

She had never once in her life run so fast, as when she threw herself at him and hugged him around his neck, locking her legs around his waist and burying her face into his neck and his soaking wet curls, not caring at all that he was still completely drenched from his bath.

He hugged her back, just as tight, and he dropped to his knees, while she sobbed into his neck from the relief that he was here and alive. For the first time in years she felt safe and happy and she knew that it was because she had finally found him again.

JON

He didn’t know how long they stayed that way, with him on his knees on the stone floor, crying in happiness, in his little sister´s hair, with her clinging to him and burying her face into the crook of his neck, like she had done so many times when they had been children and the other girls had teased her and called her horseface.

“I thought I would never get to see you again.” She whispered in such a low voice that he almost missed it.

He pulled away from her, just enough so that he could cup her face in his large hands and look her in the eye. “I was so afraid that you had died in King´s Landing.”

He dried the tears that were falling from her eyes with his thumb, before he stood up, dragging Arya with him. “I can hardly believe that you are really here, little sister.”

Arya smiled at him thought her tears when he called her little sister, like he had used to. “Me either.” He hugged her close to him again, and he felt her skinny arms wrap around him and hug him back, almost like she was afraid that if they let go, they would never see one another again.

They stood there for a while in silence, just being happy that they had found one another, until they let go and Arya glanced at his murder scars. “What is the seven hells happened to you?”

He fought a wince as she stared at the ugly scars that littered his chest and belly. “It´s a long story.” 

Satin came over with a black tunic that Sansa had made him, that Jon hurriedly put on, not wanting Arya to see the evidence of his murder for any longer that was necessary. “Well, we have time.” Arya demanded with her hands on her hips, reminding him of their time in Winterfell, long ago.

He sighed and gestured her to follow him to the desk that had two chairs in front of it, so that they could at least sit down while he told her of his murder.

As he told her about his murder and the events leading up to it, he could see the horror and anger in her eyes at the fact that he had been murdered at the Wall for trying to help the remaining freefolk, and that the Others and the army of the dead was coming for them all.

“But how did you survive? How are you not dead?” The confusion was clear in her tone as she wondered how he was here before her now, when the wounds on his body had clearly been fatal.

“I don’t know, all I know that I woke up on my funeral pyre, with four dragons.” He shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in his chair. “Does that mean you believe me about the Others and the army of the dead?”

Arya rolled her eyes at him in annoyance. “Yes, stupid. You were always a shitty liar.” There was no stopping the laughter from bubbling out of his mouth. “Is it true what I heard? Is Rickon alive and is Sansa with you?” Arya´s eyes were wide and hopeful as she waited for his answer.

“Aye, Rickon is fine and he is with Sansa in Winterfell, and when I was leaving for Barrowton, Bran was on his way to Winterfell from the Wall.”

The smiled that spread over her lit up the room before it faded and turned into a frown.

“Jon,” Arya spoke up hesitantly. “Lord Redfort said that something was wrong, what happened?”

He could feel some of the happiness of seeing his little sister again, dissipate as she brought up Robb´s and Greywind´s desecrated remains down in the dungeons, but Arya was strong, and she was owed the truth. So, he told her what he seen even though he hated having to relive it, and Jon could see the anger rise in her with every word he spoke.

When he was done telling her how he had found Robb and Greywind in the dungeons, Arya spoke up. “I was here,” She announced angerly. “at the Red Wedding, I was with the Hound and he was trying to ransom me back to Robb and mother.”

Jon could only stare at her in horror as they sat there in the light of the fireplace that was burning bright, casting an orange glow on them, along with the massive number of candles that hung from the chandeliers from the ceiling. “I was there when they paraded Robb´s body with Greywind´s head sewed to his shoulders around the courtyard.”

He stood back up from his chair and knelt by her and hugged her tight to his body like he was trying to squeeze all the horror that she had seen out of her body. “They will pay for what they have done.” He promised her. “I swear we will find those who helped in the Red wedding and I will take their heads myself.”

“I know you will.” She whispered. Jon hugged his little sister close for a moment before releasing her once again and taking his seat.

Arya sat straighter in her chair and gave him a sharp look, that Jon had often seen on her father. “So, tell me.”

“Tell you what?” He asked her dumbfounded, not really knowing what she wanted to hear.

“Everything, stupid.”

He couldn’t help it, he let out a laugh, before sobering up and telling her everything that had happened since leaving Winterfell for the first time. When he finished, ending the tale when he opened the doors, seeing her, she was staring at him with an unreadable look on her face.

“Do you love her?” Of all the questions he hadn´t expected this one, but when he thought of it, he knew that he should have. Of course, she would ask if he love her sister, the woman he had married.

“Aye, I do.” He couldn’t lie to his sister, he loved her too much to do that.

“Good.” There was a slight smiled that was tugging at her lips. “But she better not hurt you.” She said, making Jon smile. He knew that there was nothing else that needed to be said on that subject.

As she moved Jon caught a reflection of the lights of the fires at her hip, and it noticed a familiar looking sword. “You still have her?” He said half laughing.

Arya grinned and unsheathed Needle and handed it to him to look over.

“Did you ever learn how to use it?” He asked as he handed the well-kept sword back to her, after a close inspection.

Arya shot him an indignant look. “Of course, father hired a Braavosi water dancer to teach me, and then I went to Braavos to study more there.” It was clear on her face that she wasn’t ready to talk more about what she had learned in Braavos, so Jon didn’t press the issue. What mattered was that she was here now, everything else could wait.

Jon stood up and went to one of the large oak bookcases, that he had rested Longclaw and Darksister against while he had been taking a bath, trying and failing to wash away the horror of seeing Robb and Greywind in the dungeons.

He picked the swords up and went back to the desk and placed them before Arya to show them to her.

With a smile she picked up Longclaw and drew it a quarter out of its sheath. “This is valyrian steel.” The amazement in her voice made Jon smile.

“Aye, this is Longclaw, the ancestral sword of house Mormont, I got it for saving the lord commander, from one of the dead men. But it will revert back to house Mormont when I die.” He said as he took his seat again.

She gave him an impressed look, as she sheathed it again and picked up Darksister.

Arya took Darksister completely out of its sheath to look her over. “Another Valyrian steel sword?” The wonder in her eyes was clear as she stood up and walked to the middle of the room, as she struck up a pose, standing sideways while holding the sword in one hand. “It is so light.”

She then proceeded to test her balance by swing the sword gracefully about her and it was almost like she was dancing with an invisible partner as the sword sang with every swing. It was easy too see that she had learned how to use a sword from how she moved about the room, slaying invisible enemies before they could reach her.

When she stopped, she was smiling like every one of her dreams had come true. “This sword is perfect.” Arya announced as she walked over and sheathed the sword and took her seat again.

“Don’t you recognize her?” Jon asked his little sister with a teasing grin playing on his lips.

Arya frowned at him for a moment before she looked back at the sword that was resting on the table, and when her eyes fell on the hilt of the sword, and as she looked at the golden flames that made the pommel and the cross guard of the sword, her eyes started to widen as the realization hit her. “This is Darksister, the sword of Visenya Targaryen.”

Jon let out a laugh at her excitement, Arya had always loved Visenya Targaryen, who had ridden Vhaegar into battle with Darksister in her hand.

“Aye, it is.” Arya picked up the sword once more and admired the hilt, as the flame of the pommel and cross guard looked like they were dancing in the light of the fire in the hearth. “How did you like her?”

He knew the answer before she even gave it. “She is so perfect; I have never held a better sword.”

“Good, why don’t you hold onto her for a while.” If she hadn´t been sitting down, Arya would most likely have fallen over as she tried to process the shock, he had thrown her into.

“What?”

“Use her, Needle is getting way too small for you, and you need a good sword in the wars to come.”

“Are you sure?” She whispered, still holding the sword in question in her hands like it was a babe that needed protecting.

“Aye, if anyone I want to wield this blade, it is you.” Arya placed the blade on the table again like it was made of glass, then she threw herself into his arms and hugged him tight around the neck, burying her face in his still damp hair.

BRAN

He felt a headache coming on as he was brought back to the present and out of the Weirwood network and he could feel hunger gnaw at him. But he would suffer the aches as this was for a good cause, but he had to admit that he was troubled by what he had seen.

Bran had gone beyond the Wall to see where the army of the dead was located, and they seemed to be making their way very slowly south as the part of the army was staying still at Hardhome, while another part was at the Fist of the First men, and it seemed that they were waiting for the part of the army that was still making its way from the lands of always Winter.

There was no telling how large the army really was, as it was hard for Bran to see into the lands of always Winter, and all he knew for sure was that when the armies all came to gather, it would be massive.

He heard the shrieking of Jon´s dragons above him as they played in the air. It looked like they were made from precious stones and metals as the sun hit them with her rays of light, and it seemed that Summer, who was lying on the ground was also staring up at them, like him was transfixed.

Bran let out a sad sigh as his mind now wandered to Meera, who had gone with her father to Greywater Watch, to help him prepare for the winter and the long night that was fast approaching.

He hated the fact that she wasn’t here with him, but he knew that as her father´s heir, she had her duties to attend to, and Bran had his. But that didn’t stop the ache in his heart from missing her and her sweet smile and kind eyes.

As he sat there deep in his thoughts about Meera, he could hear childish laughter as Rickon ran over to where Bran was sitting under the Weirwood tree. The little lord of Winterfell had Ice running after him with her pink tongue hanging out to her ears.

“Bran there you are, we were looking for you.” His little brother threw himself at his immobile and unfeeling legs and smiled widely at him. “We were worried when you didn’t show up for lunch.”

That did explain why he was so hungry, he thought to himself as he ruffled his little brother´s hair with a grin of his own. “Sorry, I forgot, and I got a little distracted.”

“And where were you today?” Sansa´s voice carried over to them as she approached them with Ser Brianne and lady Shireen following her. While Rickon bolted into the godswood, laughing with Ice and Summer running after him.

“Beyond the Wall.” He told her as he rubbed his brow, and Sansa handed him a water skin to help him with his headache.

“I see, we should talk about it later, perhaps when you have rested a little.” She suggested and Bran was thankful for the understanding. He was always filled with horror and dread when he had just come from a vision that involved the Others, and it took a lot more toll on him to fix his gaze on them than anything else.

“Thank you.” Bran smiled at his sister. “But I was also in Dorne today, it seems that the two eldest daughters of Oberyn Martell have left Sunspear and have gone to Meereen to negotiate with the Dragon Queen.”

“So, we were right about them wanting to ally with Daenerys then.” Sansa took a seat where their father had always cleaned the great sword Ice after an execution.

“Yes, we were. They seemed convinced that Daenerys Targaryen will support them in their rule of Dorne if they declare for her, which is most likely true, from what I have seen of her through the Weirwood network.” Bran said as his brother ran after Ice and Summer though the godswood, in what looked like a fun game of tag.

“Is the Mad King´s daughter on her way here?” Shireen asked in a small voice, the young girl did live in fear of the day when Daenerys Targaryen would return to Westeros, as it had been Shireen´s uncle that had killed Daenerys´s brother and hunted her down so that he could kill her.

Bran gave her a small and what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “No, not yet. She has marched for Yunkai to take her revenge on the slave masters, and then she will be heading to Astapor.”

“Do you think that she will be making her way here after she is done with the slave masters?” Ser Brianne asked him with concern.

“Eventually she will travel west,” Bran answered Sansa´s sworn shield. “But she will not move without Rhaegal and Viserion.”

Sansa looked troubled as they talked about the Dragon Queen, and she glanced at their little brother who was with Ice and Summer as they played in a game of chase. “Rickon had one of his dreams last night.” Everyone set their eyes on Jon´s Queen as she spoke. “He told me that he had a dream of a black dragon that was burning a yellow city, in great anger.”

Bran closed his eyes in horror for a moment, Rickon had a powerful gift and it seemed that he had seen the destruction of Yunkai, at the hands of Daenerys Targaryen and her dragon, Drogon.

They heard a shriek as Oberon landed and went over to Sansa and laid his large head in her lap so that she could pet him. As the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was petting the pale green dragon that had grown to the same size of a normal full grown direwolf, like that of Summer as had Oberon´s siblings, she looked at Bran.

“When Daenerys finds out that not only that Jon is the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, but also two of the dragons she hatched have abandoned her for him, she will be furious.”

The dragon in her lap let out a strange purring sound as she continued to stroke his head. Bran sat there looking at the dragon for a few moments. “I don’t think that the word furious will quite cover her reaction to the news that Rhaegal and Viserion prefer Jon over her, but yes, she will be…furious.”

Bran looked at the pale green dragon that was resting his head in her lap. “And I am sure that she will be livid when she finds out that she isn’t the only one that hatched dragon eggs.”

Sansa looked very worried at his words. “You think that she will not be more worried about trying to take Jon´s birthright away from him and trying to take back Rhaegal and Viserion?”

Bran nodded at her words. “Oh, I am sure that those two things are at the top of the things that she will have on her mind, but hatching the dragons was what made her special, and now she has to share that with someone that she thinks that is stealing her throne from her.”

Shireen rubbed her greyscale scar as she bit her lip. “You think that she will do something horrible just because someone else managed to hatch dragons into the world?”

Bran shrugged his shoulders. “I cannot say for sure what she does when she finds out, but I have been watching her for some time now, and to me it feels like she would see that Jon having hatched dragons as a threat, especially when Rhaegal and Viserion would rather be with Jon rather than her, and she will feel abandoned and betrayed by them when she finally accepts that they aren’t coming back to her.”

Bran was filled with discomfort when he thought of the moment when Daenerys Targaryen found out that Rhaegal had found his rider and Viserion had decided to follow his emerald brother west, instead of staying in Meereen.

He had looked at her progression in the now named bay of Drogon, and he had seen how she reacted when people defied her or angered her.

“But on to lighter subjects, the princess and the banker looked terrified after they came out of the dungeons with you the other day.” Bran said with an impish grin trying to distract them form Daenerys Targaryen.

He had thought it was a good idea to show their guests the dead men that they kept in the dungeons, to make sure that they believed it that the dead would be marching on the Wall and trying to kill them all.

Sansa looked a little guilty. “Yes, but I had to show them so that they would believe us.” She hugged Oberon´s large head close to her. “I kind of feel guilty though, for scaring them like that.”

“You did the right thing, your grace.” Ser Brienne said confidently. “They needed to know.”

“I know, I had too, or they would have thought us all crazy and just left, and I couldn’t let that happen.” She continued to pet the dragon, who let out a low coo of comfort. “They needed to see the truth for themselves.”

“So,” Shireen piped up. “will they be leaving Winterfell soon or have they decided to stay a little while longer?”

“Banker Dimittis wants to leave for Braavos in a few days, he has already approved of my offer that Jon and I drafted before Jon left Winterfell, so he will be leaving as soon as the guards are ready.” Sansa answered her husband´s cousin with a smile. “Princess Arianne wants to go south to meet Jon, but it will take a little longer for me to gather the guard of her, as she will be headed into war.”

“Are you sure that it is safe for them to go south by horse? Wouldn’t it be better for them to sail to Dragonstone and wait until Jon reaches King´s Landing?” Shireen suggested.

“That would be a lot safer for her,” Bran said as he took sip from the waterskin. “the ships that lord Manderly designed are a lot better and safer than the old ones, and she most likely would reach Jon a lot faster as he is headed for the capital after he takes Riverrun.”

Sansa looked thoughtful before she nodded. “Yes, I will suggest to her that it might be faster for her to go to Dragonstone, and she wouldn’t have to ride through battlefields, and it would be a lot safer for her.”

They were silent for a few moments as they watched the dragons fly overhead, then Sansa asked Bran a question that must have been burning on her mind. “Where exactly is Jon now?” Her voice sounded small and worried that his heart went out for her.

“He was camped outside the Twins when I checked yesterday, and they were preparing to attack the castle.” Bran gave his sister a searching look, as she looked at the dragons above them. “He was fine, and he had just meet Nymeria.”

This made Sansa look down from the dragons with hope shining in her eyes. “He found Nymeria?” She said with the brightest smile on her face.

“Well, more like Ghost found Nymeria and brought her to him.” Bran smiled back at his sister. When he had seen Jon reuniting with Nymeria, he had been so happy, because he was sure that it meant that Arya was close by.

“And, how was Jon? Was he healthy and safe?” Sansa asked with worry entering her voice once again.

“He was fine when I saw him, and I am sure that he is fine now. He has survived worse.” He tried to assure his worried sister, who was sick with worry about her husband.

Rickon ran over to them with Ice and Summer on his heels. “Don’t worry Sansa, Jon can defeat anyone, he is the best swordsman in the North and he had Ghost and Rhaegal looking after him.”

Sansa ran her hand though Rickon´s hair gently. “Thank you Rickon, you and Bran are right, Jon will be just fine.”

Bran´s older sister bit her lip. “I have something to tell you all, but you must not tell anyone yet because it is a secret.”

As Rickon nodded with fervor and the others agreed to keep her secret, Sansa smiled so brightly that Bran was sure that she could outshine the sun. “I am carrying Jon´s child.”

Chapter Text

SER BRYNDEN

He led his nephew Edmure, the Greatjon and Ser Wylis towards the King´s temporary solar. Brynden had been worried that the King was too tired to receive any visitors after having stood vigil over Robb and his direwolf´s bones, but King Jon had insisted that he was feeling up to it.

Brynden glanced at the Greatjon and Ser Wylis. Both men looked nothing like he remembered how they did just a few months before, but the maester seemed to think that they would recover in time.

Edmure was looking much better than they were however, but he was still showing signs of his imprisonment at the hands of old Walder Frey, and the worry about his only son and heir.

As they arrived at the door of the King´s solar, Brynden knocked on the door and waited for Satin to open it.

They didn’t have to wait for long, and the young man opened the door and let them in with a large smile.

Satin hurried to where the King was sitting by the fire beside Brynden´s niece, lady Arya Stark, and his white direwolf was sleeping at his feet and Nymeria was gnawing at a bone by the fireplace.

The small table between the cousins was littered with rolls of paper, and Brynden was sure that he could spot his nephew Edmure´s scrawl on one of them.

Arya greeted the lords with a half a smile and a nod. The young woman had been working along side many of the lords to weed out those who were guilty among the Freys, as was her right as a Stark of Winterfell.

And she had been proving herself to not only very adept at getting the truth out of people without the need to torture them, but also that she was very fair during her interrogations of all those she questioned.

Brynden had gotten to spend a little time with his niece over the course of the few days they had been at the Twins, and it was getting very clear to him that Arya was very much her father´s daughter in this regard, as she didn’t want to punish those who were innocent.

But Brynden had to wonder how she had gotten in the castle without being noticed by anyone.

He was confident that the Freys wouldn’t have let her wander about the castle if they had known she was there, and if they had known, they would have used her as leverage against them when they arrived at the Twins.

But that didn’t explain how she had managed to hide here when the castle had been overflowing with Freys on high alert, but every time she was asked who helped her to get inside the castle, she would reply, no one.

As she sat there by her cousin, he noticed there was a certain predatory grace about her, and Darksister seemed to fit her like a glove.

Cat had often spoken about her spirited daughter, but even his niece’s descriptions paled in comparison to the real girl in front of him, and Brynden was glad that they did. They need more people who were as capable as young Arya Stark.

Brynden turned to the King and him a bow, and he could see the others hurriedly copy him.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet us, your grace. We know that you must be tired after standing vigil for King Robb.” Ser Wylis spoke, and he seemed to fight the urge to rub at his freshly shaven face.

They had to shave all the hair from both him and the Greatjon as they had gotten lice from their time in the dungeon, but it seemed that Edmure was speared the shearing.

King Jon gestured for them to take seats by him and his cousin. “It is no trouble, my lords. I have been wanting to talk to you as well.”

Satin handed everyone in the room a mug of ale, but Brynden refused his, as he didn’t want to drink anything that could made him inebriated and cloud his judgement.

He needed to stay sharp at all times to protect his King.

Brynden remembered the King´s offer back in Barrowton that if they could rescue Edmure that he could join the revered order of the King´s guard.

He hoped with everything he had that the King would make good on that promise.

It had been Brynden´s childhood dream to join the King´s guard, and he remembered many an hour he had spent playing with Hoster as they pretended to be famous knights of the King´s guard.

Brynden´s favorite had always been Ser Ryam Redwyne.

But as Hoster had outgrown his childhood dreams of joining the order, Brynden hadn´t.

It had been the reason he had refused Hoster when he tried to get him to take a wife, Brynden just couldn’t bring himself to marry a girl when he dreamed to become a King´s guard.

If he was ever offered to take the white, he didn’t want to send his wife to the silent sisters just so that he could realize his dreams.

So it had hurt all the more when Hoster had flung his dreams into his face in his anger, when Brynden had opted to leave for the Vale and go into Jon Arryn´s service instead of obeying his brother and taking a wife.

“I would like to know, my lords,” The King spoke with a serious look on his face. “how are you holding up?”

“I am doing much better, your grace, thank you for asking.” Ser Wylis said with a smile on his face as he took a swallow of ale from his mug. “But we must confess that we have been hearing some disturbing things about the dead rising in the North.”

“We have even heard…” Edmure spoke up, looking rather nervous. “We heard that you were murdered and rose back from your funeral pyre with four dragons.”

King Jon looked almost uncomfortable for a moment before he hid it behind his normal stony mask. “Aye, those are all true.”

“But your grace,” Ser Wylis looked very confounded at the fact that the King had just confirmed both their questions. “Coming back from the dead is impossible, and if you hatched your dragons on your funeral pyre, they are much too big to have been hatched in the last couple of months, and where are your other two dragons?”

“Rhaegal and Viserion were not hatched by me, Ser Wylis, but by my aunt Daenerys Targaryen in Essos, but they decided to come to me after she locked them up for a crime that their brother was suspected of committing.”

The men in the room looked stunned at the King´s words, but the young man continued speaking. “As for the dragons that were hatched on my funeral pyre, they are at Winterfell, guarding my family.”

“But…but you cannot have come back from the dead? Could you?” His nephew´s voice was shaking as he stared at the King, and normally Brynden would have had to fight the urge to bury his face into his hands at how his nephew dared to question the King, but in these circumstances, it was understandable as he had just claimed to have been murdered and come back alive.

Brynden had a hard time believing it himself until he saw the scars on the King´s body at Littlefinger´s trial.

“He did come back to life; I was there, and I saw it.” The King´s steward spoke up, clearly not liking the fact that Edmure had unintentionally called the King a liar. “I along with Queen Sansa prepared the King for his funeral pyre, and I was the one that placed his four dragon eggs on the pyre, and I saw him with my own eyes step out of the flames with four dragons in his arms.”

The young steward spoke with such passion that if Brynden hadn´t seen the murder scars on the King´s body, he would still believe that Satin was speaking the truth.

“But rising from the dead is impossible.” Edmure looked almost afraid now, but at what Brynden didn’t know.

“That is not true.” Lady Arya spoke up and took a small sip of the ale in her mug. “I saw Thoros of Myr resurrect Beric Dondarrion when he was killed by the Hound in a trial by combat.”

“You mean to tell us that the stories about lord Beric are true? And that he has been killed numerous times?” Ser Wylis asked with his eyes the size of saucers.

The rumors had been flying around the Riverlands for some time that lord Beric had been killed on many occasions, but only to be resurrected again and again by his friend Thoros of Myr.

The small folk even called him the lord of corpses or the scarecrow knight.

“Yes, he was.” Arya glanced at her cousin. “But he was a lot different from Jon. Lord Beric seemed to have forgotten most of what had happened to him before he was ever resurrected and he had even forgotten his squire, Edric Dayne, or how to get back to his own lordly seat, Blackhaven.”

“I know that it is hard to believe that I was killed and came back, my lords. Perhaps it is best just to show you.” The King unlaced the black jerkin and pulled at his shirt, to reveal the deep and cruel looking scar that was just above his heart, and it looked like whoever had struck the killing blow had twisted the knife to inflict more pain than was necessary.

Greatjon and Ser Wylis both balked at seeing the scar and Edmure looked a little green as the King laced his jerkin back up, to hide the scar once again.

But there was a flash of rage in Arya´s eyes as she glanced at where the scar was hidden, but it was gone as soon as it came, but there was no mistaking the murderous look in her eyes and Brynden was sure that if the King´s murders hadn´t been executed, the young girl would have hunted them down and dealt with them herself.

“I beg your pardon, your grace.” Ser Wylis tore his eyes where the scar was located on the King´s chest. “It is just that when we were told that you had died and yet here you are, walking and talking.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Ser.” King Jon gave the man a small but reassuring smile. “I still have a hard time believing all of this myself.”

“And the dead, your grace? They are coming from beyond the Wall?” Edmure´s blue eyes seemed to beg the King to say that the dead were not on the way south, but Brynden´s nephew would have no such luck.

“Aye, I am afraid so. I had the men who murdered me, executed and put in crates to that we could prove our words true, and we brought one with us on the march south.”

It seemed that proving that he had indeed risen from the dead was enough to make the three men believe that the other stories were true as well, as the knight of New Castle spoke up. “Is there any way to stop them?”

“The dead men can be killed by fire, dragonglass or Valyrian steel, but the Others have only been killed with dragonglass and Valyrian steel so far.”

“Valyrian steel is very rare, and where can we find enough dragonglass to arm the men to fight the dead?”

“Ser Davos has taken Dragonstone in my name and is already in process to mine and send the dragonglass to your father in White Harbor, be made into weapons for those fighting the dead.”

There was pride in Ser Wylis´s eyes when the King talked about his father, and his contributions in the fight against the dead.

“Your grace.” The Greatjon spoke up for the first time since entering the solar.

The man had been uncharacteristically silent ever since he had been rescued from the dungeons. “Pardon me but I was wondering about my son, is it true what they say that he sided with the Boltons?”

The actions of his son must have been burning at the man ever since he had heard the whispers of the Smalljon´s betrayal of his own liege lord, Rickon Stark for him to change the subject of their conversations so suddenly and without warning.

“Aye, he sided with Ramsay Snow and fought with him at the battle of Winterfell.” Greatjon looked horrified and so stricken to hear his son had fought with Roose Bolton´s bastard, that he looked close to tears. “But no man can claim that he didn’t fight bravely. It took Viserion, to make him back down and lay down his weapons.”

Greatjon looked so devastated at hearing the conformation of his son’s betrayal from the King. “Lord Umber,” Brynden decided to speak up. “I was there as well, and your son did fight bravely as the King said.”

“I do not doubt Ned Stark´s nephew or his word, Ser Brynden.” The large man spoke in a low voice that was almost breaking with the sorrow of the thought what his son had done. “My son has gone against everything I have every taught him, for thousands of years we Umbers have been faithful to the Starks of Winterfell, until Smalljon took up arms against you, your grace and held his rightful lord hostage.”

Silence filled the room for a moment before the King spoke again. “Aye, he did those things, but he also kept Rickon safe from Ramsay Snow and made sure that he couldn’t hurt him. If he hadn´t we don’t dare to think what might have happened to my cousin, it is because of that he was allowed to take the Black to regain his honor.”

“But he should never have held lord Rickon hostage in the first place.” The Greatjon´s voice almost broke, but he held it to gather by the skin of his teeth. “He should have kept the boy safe and tried to help him take back Winterfell from the Boltons.”

Silence fell over them as the Greatjon took a moment to collect himself. “But what about his boy? Ned, what will happen to him?”

“Your grandson Ned Umber has made a pledge of fealty to house Stark and myself, and he will be marrying a girl of a house that held faith to house Stark, so there is no reason that he shouldn’t remain the heir to Last Hearth.” The King explained, and Brynden could see the hope light up the large man´s eyes.

“Thank you, your grace. Words cannot express my gratitude that not only did you allow my son to take the Black to regain some of his honor, but you also allowed little Ned to keep his birthright.”

“My lord, punishing a child for the crimes of their parents is something I do not approve of.” The King offered the large man another small, kind smile. “In fact, I think that it would be rather hypocritical of me, wouldn’t you say?”

The bad joke made the lord of Last Hearth smile widely and give a weak laugh, but his spirits were lifted a little. “You truly are Ned Stark´s nephew.”

The King let out a laugh at the jap at his poor excuse of a joke, before the Greatjon spoke again. “Your grace, if it is alright with you, I would like to accompany you south and help you retake Riverrun, and the capital. I would like to see King Robb´s wish for justice through.”

“Of course, lord Umber, if you are feeling up to it, then you are most welcome.”

After speaking with the King for a few more hours, both the Greatjon and Ser Wylis decided to continue on marching south, and to see Robb´s wish for justice for his father done and help the King to take back his birth right.

When Edmure, lord Umber and Ser Wylis headed out to get some rest, only Arya, Brynden and Satin remained with the King in his solar.

“How are the interrogations going?” The King asked his cousin.

“We have finished the last one, and we are prepared to start whenever you are ready.”

“How about we start tomorrow with the lowest ranking ones and work our way to Old Walder and his most trusted sons and grandsons.”

“I think that it is a good idea,” Arya nodded eagerly. “they have all been very forth coming and quick to point fingers at Old Walder and many of his adult sons.”

His niece glanced at Brynden and gave the smallest of smiles. “Well I shall leave the two of you to talk, I have to talk with lord Royce and lady Mormont about the trials tomorrow.” She sprang to her feet as she gave him a subtle wink before leaving the solar with Nymeria following her, with the large bone in her mouth.

As the young woman left the solar with her direwolf, Brynden shot a bewildered glance at his King who spoke once the doors were closed. “Ser Brynden I believe I made you an offer back in Barrowton.”

The Blackfish of house Tully could feel his heartbeat faster in excitement, and it took all of his will power to restrain his enthusiasm. “Yes, I believe that you did.”

He could feel his palms start to sweat with nervousness as he prayed to the seven that the King wouldn’t change his mind.

“Have you changed your mind, Ser Brynden?”

“No, your grace I would still very much like to be a member of your King´s guard.”

At his words, the King nodded and smiled. “Good I am glad; I think that you will be a great Lord Commander of the King´s guard.”

Nothing could have prepared him for his King´s words. “The Lord Commander? But I thought that you would offer the honor to Ser Barristan.”

“Ser Barristan Selmy has declared for my aunt Daenerys and the last I knew, was still with her in Meereen.”

“But he did so not knowing that you existed, so perhaps when he learns of your existence and the fact that you are Rhaegar´s trueborn son and heir, he will want to serve you as he would have no doubt wanted to serve your father.”

Brynden wanted nothing more than have the great honor of serving as the Lord Commander of the King´s guard, but he would never have forgiven himself for not speaking about Ser Barristan, because the man was good and honorable as they came.

“Aye, Ser Barristan most likely doesn’t even know I exist but when it comes down to it, I know and trust you and there is no one I would rather choose for the position.”

“And if Ser Barristan come and declares for you?”

“Then I will allow him to serve in the King´s guard, but I would sleep better at night, knowing that you are the Lord Commander.”

Brynden could feel the overwhelming emotions flood him, but he refused to allow them to come to the surface. “I would be honored to serve as the Lord Commander of the King´s guard.”

The King rose from his chair, and Brynden hurried to do the same.

King Jon beckoned Satin to come over to them, and in the young man´s hands was white and silver scale armor and a fine white cloak.

As the Dragon King bid him to kneel, Brynden had never in his life felt prouder than he did at that moment, as he was sworn in as the Lord Commander of the King´s guard.

ARYA

She glanced at her brother, who looked exhausted if one knew him well enough to see beyond the mask that he seemed to have perfected in the three years that they hadn´t seen each other.

Arya was reminded of her father, when she glanced at her brother beside her, when he had sat in his weirwood throne at Winterfell, seeing to his duties as the lord of Winterfell.

It was a comforting thought that her father´s ways were being carried on in Jon.

And even though he had the crown of Aegon the conqueror on his head, and was wearing the colors of house Targaryen, Jon could not have looked more like the Northerner he really was.

Jon was the very image of a strong northern ruler as they all watched Ryman Frey curse and yell as he was dragged out of the hall and to the dungeons to wait till dawn for his execution.

She could feel satisfaction settle in her belly of the thought that soon all those who had taken part in the Red Wedding would have paid for the murder of her mother and brother.

The last few days had been exhausting for everyone, as they tried to sort out who had been involved in the planning and execution of the Red Wedding, but now as they were finally bringing justice to house Frey for the murder of Robb and her mother, along with so many Northerners, it felt well worth the fatigue that she was experiencing.

Arya could see a movement out of her eyes, behind Jon and glanced at her grand uncle, who was standing there proudly, in his new white and silver scale armor with the white cloak of the King´s guard around his shoulder that was fastened by pin made in the likeness of a leaping trout.

The Blackfish looked just like one of the King´s guard of old that old nan had told her about when she was a little girl.

Arya had come to like her grand uncle, he was everything her mother had said and more, and she was looking forward to getting to know him better on the road to King´s Landing, as she felt a little closer to her mother when she was talking to him, the uncle her mother had loved so much.

Thinking about her mother, remined her once again that they did not know where her body was, as well the fact that they couldn’t give her a proper funeral, and it brought back the heartbreak with vengeance.

Jon had ordered men to search around the Green Fork for her body, but so far, they had turned up nothing, and it was looking more and more likely that they would never find Catelyn Stark´s body.

She tore her eyes away from the white cloak and scale armor of her grand uncle and looked around the hall instead to try and distract herself from the thoughts about her mother.

The hall was quite literally covered in the colors of house Targaryen, and with the colors of the lords that had now declared for Jon, creating the most colorful setting imaginable for the trials of those who were suspected in participating in the Red Wedding.

There were so many banners flying in the great hall, that for a moment she was reminded of the tourney of the hand, that Fat King Robert had thrown in celebration of the fact that her father had been made hand.

However, she had never seen the black and red banner of house Targaryen, except in the books of maester Luwin in Winterfell, and she had never thought that she would see them displayed like this, as house Targaryen was thought to be banished forever from Westeros.

But it seemed to her, that one should never underestimate a dragon.

Arya glanced back to her favorite brother, who was making an awkward attempt at small talk with her uncle Edmure, who seemed to welcome the attention from Jon, as he sat beside his young wife, lady Roslin Tully.

It was so strange to think that her brother was now the King, and the lords wanted to place him on the Iron throne.

But even stranger was that he had married Sansa, and they were raising Rickon and Jon´s cousin, Shireen together.

Now, that was something that had never occurred to Arya to even think about before.

But there was no one that Arya trusted better than Jon to protect her sister, and make sure that she was safe from harm.

After everything that Jon had told her about what had happened to Sansa after Arya had escaped King´s Landing, Arya was having a hard time controlling her temper and not just riding to King´s Landing and murdering Cersei in the worst possible way she could, since her spawn Joffrey was now dead and couldn’t answer for his crimes.

“Why are you looking like you are plotting a murder?”

Arya almost jumped when she heard her brother whisper to her, and she was sure that if not for the training at the houses of Black and White, she would have.

“What on earth do you mean?”

“You have the exact same look on your face, as when you told me about your pie idea.”

“I still stand by that idea; I think that it would have been poetic.” She said with a straight face, but her brother, just smiled at her and shook his head.

When she had first arrived at the Twins, she had thought about making the Freys pay by baking a son of Walder Frey into a pie, and then making the man eat it, like in the legend of the Rat King, but Jon had arrived before she could put that plan into action.

But perhaps it was for the best.

Jon had reasoned that the lords of the North needed to see the ones responsible for the Red Wedding face justice. And they wouldn’t have if Arya had baked the Freys into pies before they arrived.

And it did help that he had asked her to wield Darksister in his name. Just thinking about the sword at her hip made her smile with pride and wonder.

“But what were you thinking about?”

Arya shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing really, just waiting for all of this to be over, so that we can head off to Riverrun.”

It didn’t take a genius to see that Jon didn’t exactly believe her, but she was thankful that he let it go, she didn’t want to burden him with her thoughts, her brother had enough to worry about, like taking the Iron throne from Cersei, and fighting the dead.

Jon sent her one of his kind smiles and gestured for the next prisoners to be let in.

The doors were opened, and two guards half dragged and half carried Old Walder Frey into the hall, who was bound hand and foot to make sure that he couldn’t escape.

Not that the old and infirm man would have made it very far, even if he had been left to wander the halls aimlessly and completely free of any bounds, as he was so old and could barely move, because of the gout that ailed him, without assistance.

The guards forced him to his knees before the high table, and all the lords were booing and hissing insults at the man as he was dragged before her Kingly brother.

The old weasel like man stared only hatefully at her brother and even though he said nothing, his ugly mouth continued to move without sound, like it had done when she had been disguised as his son, Petyr.

Arya could see that he glared briefly at his daughter, as lady Roslin sat beside her husband, but the old man quickly fixed his hateful eyes on Jon again.

Jon silenced the lords with a gesture. “Lord Walder Frey, you stand accused of betraying King Robb Stark and murdering him and his men under the protection of guest rights, how do you plead?”

The old man glanced at Ghost and Nymeria, who were both lying by the high table, and the white direwolf was showing him, his large, sharp teeth without making a sound.

There was fear in his old eyes as he glanced at the direwolves, but he turned his eyes back to Arya´s brother.

“What gives you the right to judge me and mine? Just because Rhaegar Targaryen squirted you into your whore of a mother doesn’t give you the right to look down your nose at me, boy.”

His words cause such an outrage that the lords in the hall started to shout and scream at the man and the Flint of the mountain clans jumped to his feet, clearly with the intention of burying his sword in the old man´s guts, but he was stopped by a gesture from Jon.

While Nymeria was now growling in her anger at the old man, Ghost had risen to his feet making the old man look ready to shit himself, much to her amusement, as Ghost ever so slowly inched towards him, with his unnerving red eyes fixed on him.

The garron sized direwolf was a sight to behold in his anger, and Arya didn’t envy Old Walder of having Ghost blood red eyes on him, clearly ready to rip out his throat.

“Do not speak about my mother again, lord Walder.” Jon voice was as cold as a Northern snowstorm, and the subtext was clear to everyone in the room.

Speak like that about my mother again and I will let Ghost kill you.

Arya was remined of the story of the old King and lord Baratheon, that maester Luwin had told her once, something about speaking softly and carrying a big stick and a dragon.

“How do you plead to the charges against you, lord Walder.” Jon repeated the question in a firm voice, as Ghost took a step back without taking his eyes of old Walder, and rejoined Nymeria.

“Does it matter? You have all judged me and mine guilty.” Old Walder snarled the best he could, but he was somewhat undercut by the fact that he had no teeth in his mouth.

“THAT IS BECAUSE YOU ARE.” The Greatjon had finally had enough and stood up and shouted at the old man. “YOU ATTACKED US UNPROVOKED AND MURDERED KING ROBB WHILE WE WERE UNDER GUESTRIGHTS.”

The big man´s words made everyone in the hall start shouting once again at Walder Frey, until Jon quieted them down once again. “As you can hear, we do have witnesses that were there, lord Walder, that testify to your guilt, and your own liege lord is one of those witnesses.”

“Does little Edmure say that now does he?” The old man smirked at her uncle, who was sending the man an angry look that Arya had seen on Robb´s face when he had been pushed too far. “Perhaps he should be more careful about what he says, he wouldn’t want someone thinking that he was saying something he could end up regretting, now would he?”

“You mean how you made him swear to lie to the other lords of this realm how we attacked unprovoked and that it was King Robb who instigated the Red Wedding?”

Even when threatened with two angry direwolves, hadn´t Old Walder looked so frightened as he did now, but the man was quick to mask that fear, but the damage was already done.

“I have never asked him or anyone to lie.”

Jon turned to Edmure´s young wife, who had was sitting beside her husband.

Roslin Tully was clearly having a hard time as she sat by her husband’s side, but Arya had to admire her bravery as the girl had insisted on being beside her husband during the trials of her family members that were accused of taking part in the Red Wedding.

“Lady Tully, could you please tell everyone in this hall, what you told lady Mormont, when she handed you back your son after she rescued him.”

The young girl nodded at Jon. “Yes, your grace.” Lady Roslin turned to the lords in the hall, and the fear and nervousness in her eyes was easy to see.

“When his grace´s army was at the gate´s, my father ordered my brother´s Lothar Frey and Walder Rivers to take my son and under the cover of night to take him from the Twins by the green fork from under the tower, so when the castle would fall they would have insurance that my lord husband would lie to all the lords of the realm about what happened in the Red Wedding.”

Old Walder stared at his daughter in such horror that Arya was sure that she had never seen a look like that before in her life, and even as the outraged cries of the lords in the hall, the old man did nothing but stare, like he was made from stone.

Then the old man seemed to realize what his daughter had just said, and he started snarl at her in his fury. “You filthy whore, I should never have squirted you into your mother. You dare sit there betraying your own kin and tell lies about me, after everything I have done for you.”

The girl looked ready to cry as Edmure grabbed her hand and stared at his good father with his angry blue eyes, that looked so much like Robb´s. “My wife is not lying, you traitor. You ripped our son from her arms, and you were going to use him as leverage, and if lady Maege hadn´t saved him, your sons would have taken him the seven only know where.”

“I was saving my sons,” Old Walder shrieked in his anger. “as long as Lothar and Walder had your squealing brat, the dragon spawn couldn’t hurt them, and my house would survive.”

The old man turned his runny eyes to his daughter once again. “And now you have doomed them all, you selfish bitch.”

Arya had spent hours getting to know the Freys when she had been hiding as Petyr pimple, but even after that time she was having a hard time believing that any father could talk to his own daughter like that or use his own grandson so cruelly.

But regrettably, Old Walder wasn’t done. “And it is not like you are innocent, dear daughter.” His ever-moving mouth was pulled in a smirk and he let out a shrill hiccup of a laugh. “Without you, we could never have pulled of the Red Wedding, you knew what we were planning but did nothing.”

“THAT’S NOT TRUE.” Lady Roslin jumped to her feet and there were tears streaming down her face. “I ONLY KNEW THAT YOU WERE PLANING SOMETHING, AND YOU SAID THAT IF I SAID ANYTHING TO ANYONE THAT YOU WOULD HAVE PERWYN AND OLIVAR KILLED.”

A needle could have been heard dropping at the words of the lady of Riverrun.

The old man shook his head angerly. “That is not true, you are just lying so that that fool Edmure will not set you aside and make you join the silent sisters or worse.”

“So, you deny locking your own sons in the dungeons while the wedding took place, even though the servants and many of your own family members testify to it?” Jon asked with his face as unreadable as ever.

The Old man glanced at the growling direwolves in front of the high table in fear as he tried to think of something that could safe him, but it was clear to Arya that the old man couldn’t think of a way out of this. “Kill me then. It is clearly what you want, so throw me to the dragons and my children after me and end house Frey, like how Robert should have ended house Targaryen.”

Jon´s face turned even colder as the lords and knights in the hall seemed to restrain themselves from start shouting at the old man once again. “I am not Robert Baratheon, and I do not lay awake at night fearing the shadows of children.”

While Jon´s face was as cold as the Wall, his eyes were aflame with rage. “And I do not execute men by dragon fire, but by the sword as is the way of the North.”

Jon nodded at the guards, who grabbed Old Walder once again. “In the light of the evidence given by reliable witnesses, and the fact that you ordered the body of my cousin King Robb desecrated as well as having threatened the life of your own grandson, I Jon of house Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men, lord of the seven Kingdoms, hereby sentence you to die.”

As her brother sentenced the Old man to death, Arya felt her heart grow lighter, knowing that her brother and mother would soon have justice, in the form of the valyrian steel sword, Longclaw.

Chapter Text

ARYA

She stifled a yawn as she made her way out of the Eastern Tower of the Twins with Nymeria hot on her heels. Words could not describe how good it felt to have her wolf back at her side after such a long time they had to spend apart, and now reuniting in the aftermath the battle of the Twins it was like they were attached at the hip and were rarely seen apart from one another.

Arya glanced at Nymeria, who was looking back at her with her intelligent golden eyes. She reached out her hand and gave the direwolf a soft rub on the top of her head, which made her wolf waggle her tail happily like a massively overgrown puppy.

The sun was barely rising on the horizon and the courtyard was still lit with torches, but it was already alive with activity as the men were making everything ready for the departure to the castle of the Tully´s.

It was easy to see that the men were in high spirits now that those responsible for the Red Wedding had now faced justice, and Arya found herself sharing that mood as she watched stableboys ready the horses all around the large courtyard.

It was like a weight had been lifted of her now that the men who had planned her mother´s and brother´s murder were all dead and had paid for their crimes with their lives.

But there was still one name left on Arya´s list that needed to be crossed.

In all honesty, it was the only name that Arya cared about now that the Freys and the Boltons had been dealt with, and that name was Cersei Lannister.

Just thinking about the woman made Arya burn with anger, but she was careful that the men around the courtyard didn’t see her rage.

She could still remember that self-satisfied look on her face when Fat King Robert had sentenced Lady to die because Nymeria had injured Joffrey when he had threatened her and injured Arya´s friend, and that woman had allowed Joffrey to murder her father in front of the cheering crowd in King´s Landing as Sansa was forced to watch on.

“Lady Arya.” Her name being called from behind her, pulled her out of her thoughts of vengeance. Which was for the best as Cersei would have to wait.

She looked back into the entrance hall of the Eastern Tower and spotted Ser Jasper and his Vale friends following him.

The young knight had a wide smile on his face as he waved at her with as much enthusiasm as a young child being offered a lemon cake.

Ser Roland was trying and failing to hide a grin that was pulling at his face, and Ser Harry looked like he wanted nothing more than to burst into laughter.

“Lady Arya, it is good to see you.” Ser Jasper continued smiling as he spoke. “I hear you will be joining us on the march to Riverrun.”

Arya nodded. “Yes, I will.”

When Arya said nothing more, the young heir to the Redfort looked a little nervous.

“Have you ever been to Riverrun, Lady Arya?” Ser Roland asked and discreetly elbowed his friend in the side after a moment of awkward silence.

“No, I cannot say that I have.” Arya was now starting to hope that the other lords would arrive shortly, as the looks that Ser Jasper was sending her were making her uncomfortable. The young knight was looking at her like a lost pup and it didn’t sit right with her.

This was the sort of look boys and men should send her sister Sansa, and not her.

Never her.

“Not even when you traveled south with your lord father and Robert Baratheon?” Asked Harry Hardying.

Arya looked the blond man quickly over; Jon had told her that he had been hoping to marry Sansa when he arrived at Winterfell with Littlefinger, and she had the distinct feeling that Jon was not Ser Harry´s biggest admirer.

She was glad that Sansa hadn´t been forced to marry the blond in front of her, as the tall young man did little else but try and get under any girl´s skirt that caught his fancy, and it was abundantly clear that he wouldn’t stop once he was married.

“No, we didn’t have time, as Robert Baratheon was in a hurry it seemed, to get to the capital.”

Ser Roland let out a laugh. “Yes, I imagine that he was in a hurry to get back to his drinking and whoring.”

As soon as his words left his mouth, he seemed to regret them. “I am sorry my lady. I should not speak of such things in front of a lady of your standing.”

Arya crossed her arms across her chest, and Nymeria gave an annoyed huff on her behalf. “And why is that?”

Ser Roland looked to his friends for support, but they remined silent as they waited for Roland Waynwood´s answer to her question.

“You are a lady of a great house and the King´s beloved cousin. I shouldn’t speak of such things in front of you.”

Arya stared at him for a few long moments, making him squirm nervously before she let out a little laugh. “I am hardly going to swoon because you mentioned whores. In fact, I think that you had the right of it, it seemed like it was the only thing that he did in the capital anyway. Well besides drinking.”

The three knights seemed relieved that she hadn´t taken offence at Ser Roland´s words, and Ser Harry let out a nervous laugh before speaking up.

“My lady, if I may ask, what are you doing out here?”

“I am waiting for lord Royce; he is to arrive shortly.” Arya buried her hand in Nymeria´s fur and she was awfully glad to see the lord of Runestone make his way out of the Tower alongside Ser Wylis Manderly like he had been summoned by having his name called, and after them trotted Ser Wylis´s new squire, the new lord of the Crossing, Bryan Frey.

The three young knights hurriedly gave the lord of Runestone respectful bows as the older men made their way over to them. “Ah, lady Arya I am sorry for keeping you waiting like this, but I do hope that it wasn’t for long.”

“I have only just arrived lord Royce and it is no trouble waiting for you, after you agreed to allow me to shadow you.”

“Shadow him?” Asked Ser Jasper faintly and looked between her and the lord of Runestone.

“Yes, King Jon asked me if she could shadow me while on the march to Riverrun so that she could learn about military command.” Lord Royce gave them all a proud smile. It was clear for all to see how proud the man was for having been trusted by Jon, to teach Arya the craft of military command.

Even though he was a little unsure that it was wise to allow a woman to learn the craft of battle command, but the man tried his best to not let his feelings show. The man seemed to try and keep an open mind after having worked with lady Mormont and Arya herself during the trial of the Twins.

Arya herself was proud as well, that her brother wanted her to learn something that was always reserved for men.

It was something so like Jon to do, to ask the best military commander under his command to teach her. Jon had always been the one to believe in her and her dreams of becoming a warrior of great renown, rather than some lady who did nothing but sew and gossip her day away like so many wanted her to do.

Even her father, who had allowed her to keep Needle and practice water dancing, had only been indulging her and most likely been hoping that she would eventually grow out of it and take up interests similar to those Sansa enjoyed.

Arya could see that the young men were stunned speechless at this revelation and young Bryan Frey was staring at her with wide blue eyes that were much alike his cousin´s, Ser Harry Hardyng.

When the young boy caught her looking at him, the new lord of the Crossing hid himself behind Ser Wylis, with a blush covering his face as he peered at her from behind the heir to White Harbor.

“You will be joining us, will you not Wylis?” The lord of Runestone asked the Northern man with a jolly smile on his weathered face.

“Oh, aye and lord Edmure expressed a desire to join us when he has finished speaking with the King.”

“Excellent.” Bronze Yohn called for the horses to be brought for them so they could ride out. A young man offered Arya the reins to a grey courser that carried himself as regally as a King. The horse tossed his head, shaking it´s long flowing mane with it as she noticed that the horse seemed oddly calm with Nymeria so close to him.

“That is King Robb´s horse.” The heir to White Harbor said in a sad tone. That explained why the horse seemed so calm in Nymeria´s presence; the stallion had been used to being around Greywind.

She felt a lump form in her throat at the very thought that this horse had belonged to her brother Robb as she took the reins from the stable boy and gave the beautiful horse a soft rub on the nose.

She had to wonder why she was being handed the horse that Robb had used. Shouldn’t he have been given to Jon or maybe even sent to Winterfell and be given to Rickon as the new lord of Winterfell?

“Does he have a name?” Arya asked Ser Wylis and looked at the man over her shoulder.

“Quicksilver, I believe.” That name made something in Arya´s mind ring with recognition but for the life of her she couldn’t pin down where she had heard that name before. Had her father´s old horse been named Quicksilver?

She shook her head of the thought and mounted the horse as the lords and knights followed suit and made their way out of the courtyard as lord Royce started to explain to Arya everything that they needed to do and why they needed to do them.

The three young knights, Sers Jasper, Roland, and Harry all begged to be allowed to follow them around so they might learn a thing or two from Bronze Yohn, and while Arya wasn’t all that thrilled that they would be tagging along, she made sure that they couldn’t see her thoughts on the matter on her face.

They spent a long time helping the other lords overseeing the marching out of the Twins, and Arya had listened dutifully to lord Royce as he offered her and the three young knights’ advice and explained how and why they did the things they were doing.

Arya found herself in awe of the man´s knowledge, not only was he a brilliant tactician but he also seemed to have a keen interest in human nature and seemed to think that studying people and how they reacted to certain situations was crucial to winning battles.

The three young men following them seemed shocked how much actual work was involved in just moving such a large army from one place to another.

It seemed to her that their fathers were a little amiss in teaching them, as both Robb and Jon had learned from both her father and maester Luwin the necessary things a lord and an army commander needed to know when they had been young children.

As the sun was mid-way to its zenith in the sky, her attention was drawn by Nymeria who looked toward riders coming their way.

The first and clearly the most important rider was clad in the red and blue colors of house Tully with the silver trout leading proudly on his breast and he was surrounded by a few guards in the Targaryen-colored armor, signaling their allegiance to Jon.

Arya´s uncle rode towards them with a tried grin on his face with the Targaryen guards flanking his sides and seemed happier than he had been last evening and that was saying a lot. “My lords, dear niece it is good to see you all this morning.”

“And you as well, lord Edmure. How did your talks with the King go?” Asked Lord Royce, not being able to contain his curiosity.

“Very well, I think that his plans have merit, and if it all goes according to his plans and the Western men have a half a brain, they will agree to his terms.” Edmure said as he pulled his horse beside her and Nymeria.

“And are you all right with that, uncle Edmure? To make peace with Jaime Lannister after he threatened to catapult your son on to the walls of Riverrun?” Arya asked with an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

Anger flashed in his Tully blue eyes and his happy smiled fell of his face as everyone waited for his answer. “No, I will never forgive the Kingslayer for threatening my son´s life like that.” Arya noticed that his knuckles turned white as he gripped the reins of his horse hard. “But I agree with the King that we need the Western army to help fight the dead, so I am willing to come to the negotiating table, especially after his grace freed me and my family from the Twins and made sure that lady Maege could save my son from Lothar Frey and Walder Rivers.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if the King rode his dragon to Riverrun and burned half the Western Army to warn them not to cross him and force them to bend the knee?” Harry Hardyng piped up, and Arya could almost smell the arrogance in his voice.

“If he did that,” Lord Royce spoke up. “It would be that much harder to win their loyalty in the long run rather than if he had just sat down with them and tried to make peace.”

Arya could see the young knight´s face flush with embarrassment as the older man continued. “And the fact that his grace is trying to negotiate peacefully rather than just using force even though he has the bigger army and massive dragons, shows that he is a man of reason; something that has been lacking in the Kings of the Iron throne since the days of Jaehaerys the second, until now.”

It took all the training she had not to smirk at Harry Hardyng, who looked like a scolded child.

Ser Jasper and Ser Roland were wisely silent and looked like they wanted to silence Ser Harry when he spoke up again. “But what about showing strength? A King must always be seen as strong.”

Arya could almost feel the guards that were tasked with keeping her uncle Edmure safe, stiffen and shoot the young man furious looks, and it took a lot of effort from keeping Nymeria from snarling out at Ser Harry in anger like Arya herself wanted to do.

Ser Wylis stared at Ser Harry with an angry look that looked out of place on his normally jolly face that she remembered when he had come to Winterfell on his father´s behest when she had been a child. “The man that broke the Boltons and rescued lord Rickon and avenged the Red wedding by executing all those guilty for murdering his cousin and the Northmen who following him with his own sword, is weak now is he?”

As Ser Wylis growled angerly at him, the young knight seemed to have realized his mistake. As the young man tried to stutter his way out of the hole that he had dug himself into, the heir to White Harbor continued defending Jon´s honor. “The man who was murdered for trying to save us all from the dead, only to have come back to life with four dragons and called two other dragons from across the sea to him and now rides one of them like the dragonlords of old is weak now is he?”

It was such a strange thing, seeing the man so angry. Arya had never associated anger with anyone named Manderly, and even she had to admit that the heir to White Harbor was rather terrifying in his wrath.

“Never speak of King Jon in that manner in my presence again.” The man finished with his flashing eyes fixed on the young man, as lord Bryan Frey was shrinking back as he stared at the angry man before him, with his blue eyes darting between the knight he served and his scolded cousin.

Before the awkwardness could choke them, her uncle spoke up and addressed the lord of Runestone. “Didn’t lord Eddard, want to meet prince Rhaegar and negotiate with him in the Rebellion?”

His words made Arya stare at her uncle in surprise. She had never once heard that her father had wanted to talk to the Silver prince instead of doing battle.

“There was a rumor when we were camped at Riverrun just before we headed off to do battle that lord Eddard and Jon Arryn wanted to talk to prince Rhaegar, but I never heard either man confirm or deny those rumors.” The man looked thoughtful and rubbed his beard covered chin. “There was also a rumor that lord Eddard suggested that they should send out a rider with terms of peace, and then shortly afterward we started hearing those rumors Robert Baratheon announced for all to hear that he was claiming the Iron Throne for himself and that they would only know peace when Rhaegar and all the Targaryens were dead.”

“Do you think that there is any truth to those rumors?” Arya asked, hungry for more information.

“I don’t know to be honest, there were so many rumors running around that time; but I think that we shall never truly know the truth of the matter.”

“You are most likely right on that account, my lord.” Her uncle spoke softly. “I was so young at the time that I remember very little, only that Brandon left Riverrun in a fury, only hours after having arrived, claiming to kill someone, and my sisters were both devastated when he left.”

As she looked at her uncle´s face that seemed lost in thought, his words nagged at her like what he had just said was strange. She understood that her mother had been devastated by Uncle Brandon´s departure from Riverrun, as Arya knew that he had arrived at the castle to marry her, but why in the seven hells had aunt Lysa been upset?

Silence fell over them for a moment until it was broken by now a familiar sound of thundering beat of leathery wings, and a shrieking roar of a dragon, putting a halt to any further conversations.

As one, the marching men stopped and looked to the sky. They could see the cream and gold dragon, Viserion fly overhead. Seeing the pale dragon caused the men to start cheering loudly for the dragon who had cracked open the Eastern Tower so surgically and without damaging the gate, making it possible for them to enter unharmed.

But as Viserion flew overhead, even louder roar was heard that made even the ground shake and tremble and it was almost like for a moment the world came to a standstill.

Until her horse gave a low whiny of protest that it wasn’t allowed to bolt from the source of the sound, but most of her attention was captured by the bigger dragon as he rose to the sky, only to land on the Western Tower.

On the enormous dragon´s back, sat her brother Jon and even from so far away she could see the rubies of Aegon´s crown wink at her in the morning sun. She couldn’t make out his facial expression, but Arya imagined it to be his normal stoic one that was so much alike her father.

As Rhaegal let out another deafening roar, the men started to cheer even louder than before, and she could hear them chanting Jon´s name.

From all directions, echoing of water and rocks she could hear them shout; King Jon, White Wolf and Father of Dragons, making her involuntarily grin as the men cheered for her brother.

She felt a small gust from the North caress her face, and she was almost sure that she heard her father´s words like a whisper on the wind. “Winter is coming.”

 SAMWELL

He sneaked into the storage room that held the healing supplies and grabbed one of the trollies and started to fill it with everything he would need to try and cure Ser Jorah Mormont.

Sam felt that he owed the old bear to at least to try to save his son´s life. No matter the anger the old bear felt at his son for shaming house Mormont, Sam was sure that he didn’t want his son to die a horrible death of having greyscale slowly covering his body and stripping away at his sanity before he succumbed to death.

Sam shuddered to have to think about having this terrible disease that ate away at one’s body and soul until nothing remained of what had made that person themselves.

“Sam, what are you doing?” A soft voice whisper-shouted at him, making him turn around so fast he almost fell over.

Alleras was standing in the doorway, staring at him with his big brown eyes open wide in surprise.

Sam opened and closed his mouth, trying to formulate words to explain his presence.

“Sam, how did you get past the guards? And what are you doing with healing supplies?” Alleras asked once again as he hurried into the room and closed the door.

“I…I…I…” Sam stuttered nervously. He had to stop himself from fidgeting and to remember Jon´s command to him before he had left for the citadel.

I cannot command you to be brave, but I can command you to hide your fears.

Sam stood straighter and looked Alleras directly in the eyes. “I…I am going to heal Ser Jorah Mormont.”

His voice sounded so much stronger than he was feeling right now as the Dornish man gaped at him.

“Sam, the Northerner has greyscale, he is doomed to die, and we cannot help him.” The other boy tried to reason with him.

“I have to try, I served under his father at Castle Black. And I cannot just let his son die without trying to help him.”

Alleras crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at Sam. “The man sold slaves; he deserves to die.”

“I am not doing this for Ser Jorah, I am doing this for lord commander Mormont, now if you are not going to help me, then…” Sam trailed off, suddenly not sure what he should say to make sure that the other boy didn’t tell anyone what he was up to.

Jon would have known what to say, Jon always knew. All he would have to do was to give Alleras one of his stern looks and the Dornish man would have caved.

Alleras gave Sam a searching look. “Alright, I will help you.”

He then made his way to one of the shelves and started to search through them with critical eyes, while Sam could only stare at him in surprise. “Really? Why?”

Alleras stopped and turned to look at him with one of his soft smiles painting his face. “I am hoping to earn a silver link in my chain Sam, having helped heal a man with greyscale can only help with that.”

Then his smile turned into a smirk. “And I suppose that helping you will earn me a little favor with your friend, King Jon.”

Sam felt a blush heat up his face at the Dornish man´s remark. Ever since the rumors started people here at the citadel had started to treat him differently.

Sam was grateful for Alleras, who was one of the few who didn’t treat him with suspicion or fear for being Jon´s friend. Which was strange as Alleras was a Dornish man, and Jon was the son of the woman that had come between prince Rhaegar and his dornish wife, and Sam himself was of the Reach.

But Sam wouldn’t give up being Jon´s friend for anything in the world. Jon had been his first friend in the night´s watch, and in the world. He had made the others stop tormenting him, with Ghost´s help and he had stood up for him without asking for anything in return.

Without Jon and his kindness, Sam was sure that he would have died a long time ago.

“So, what is he like? Your friend King Jon?” Alleras asked dragging Sam out of his thoughts, making Sam realize that he hadn´t answered the Dornish man´s quip.

“He is the best man I know.” Sam replied with a smile as he grabbed tongs and scalpels from one of the shelves. “He is also a great swordsman and very intelligent.”

He turned to smile at the Dornish man who was looking at him in interest. “He didn’t need to be nice to me, to help me but he did it anyway. Even though I am a coward, he befriended me and made the other recruits stop treating me like dirt.”

“Do you think that it is true what they say?” Alleras said, barely above a whisper. “That he died and came back with four dragons?”

Sam could feel the letter from Edd burn in his pocket and he had to fight the urge to place his hand on the letter to assure himself of its contents and that they were indeed true.

He knew that while Edd had a dark and weird sense of humor, the man was not a liar and he would never tell Sam a lie about something this serious.

But to read about Jon´s murder at the hands of Alliser Thorne and his cronies, and how Jon had risen back from the dead with four dragons to his name was so unbelievable that if this letter had been about anyone else, Sam would never have believed these words to be true.

However, this was about Jon.

Jon who could control his giant albino direwolf with his thought alone it seemed, and who could enter into the mind of a dragon on the other side of the world that he had never even met.

If anyone could do half the things that Edd had described in the letter, then it was Jon Snow; or Jon Targaryen as many people seemed to believe.

“I just hope that he is alive.” He said honestly, not wanting to talk about this subject anymore. Just the very thought that his friend had maybe died was horrifying and made his insides want to shrivel up.

The other boy seemed to sense his mood and dropped the subject and they worked in silence until Alleras broke it again. “You know there was a raven from Bandallon.”

Sam turned to face his Dornish friend with wide eyes. “And what did it say?” He, like everyone else in the city had been hungry for news from the western coast as the Iron fleet was raiding at the shores there.

The other man looked sorrowful before speaking. “Apparently they saw Greyjoy sails on the horizon and were preparing for a battle or a siege if they were defeated in the field which is the most likely outcome.”

“But the Ironborn aren’t good fighters on land, they could have been defeated by lord Blackbar.”

The other boy snorted. “Balon Greyjoy and his children managed to take many of the castles of the western shore of the North, along with Moat Cailin and Winterfell itself, why wouldn’t the Iron born be able to sack Bandallon?”

“Well, the Reach lords are all in the Reach with their armies mostly intact, but the Northern lords were almost all in the Riverlands, fighting with Robb Stark and they only took Moat Cailin because they managed to take it from the North, where it is a lot easier than taking it from the south and Theon Greyjoy lived in Winterfell most of his life, so he knew the castle much better than the Iron born know Bandallon.” Sam tried to reason with Alleras.

“Perhaps you are right.” Alleras said and grabbed bandages from one of the shelves. “But the ironborn don’t have to sack the castles. They only have to attack the towns and villages close to the shores then retreat back to the sea where they are strong.”

“But they won’t get much gold or riches with only sacking towns and villages.” Sam countered. He found it hard to believe that the Ironborn would attack the mainland in such a manner without sacking the rich castles of the Reach and Westerlands.

The risk of the lords of the two regions retaliating for the raids would be too high for such little rewards, but perhaps the Ironborn having attacked the North without much consequence had made them bolder than before.

“Roone told me that he heard that the Seneschal thinks that the Iron born are on their way here to sack the city.” Alleras said quietly.

Sam frowned in worry at his words. He had to stop his hands from shaking with worry and fear for Gilly and her babe; he would never forgive himself if anything happened to either one of them.

“What do you think?” Sam asked his friend after a moment of fearful silence.

“I think that they would be mad to try and attack the city. But they do say that Euron Greyjoy is leading them now and it is said that he is quite mad these days.” Alleras said and Sam could hear the disgust in the other man´s voice as he said the Iron born man´s name.

But Sam was a little confused. “But isn’t Theon Greyjoy ahead in line of suggestion to the lordship of Pyke?”

Everyone that had spent an hour in the North knew of Theon Greyjoy and his deplorable acts, and Sam knew that Jon hated the heir to the Iron Islands with such passion after everything that he had done to house Stark.

Alleras seemed to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. “Sam you need to spend more time at the Quill and the Tankard with us so that you can hear what is happening the world.”

Sam opened his mouth to defend himself from his friend´s good natured jape but Alleras was quicker. “One needs to know what is happening in the world to succeed Sam, but I will let it slide this time.”

Alleras placed two bottles of wine that they could use for disinfecting on the trolley before speaking. “Theon and Asha Greyjoy have apparently fled from Westeros when their uncle Euron took control of the Iron Islands and won the King´s moot. Some say that they fled to Daenerys Targaryen in Meereen to try and get her support in ruling their desolate rock.”

“Do you think that she will help them?”

“I don’t know to be honest.” It was clear that Alleras didn’t like it that he didn’t know if the last sibling of Rhaegar Targaryen would help Theon and Asha Greyjoy in taking back the Iron Islands. “But if I were a betting man…which I am, I will bet on her helping them if they offer her something that she wants, like the Iron fleet.”

“But doesn’t Euron Greyjoy have the Iron fleet?”

Now the other boy smirked a little. “You really need to spend more time at the Inn Sam. Apparently Asha Greyjoy, who seems to want to rule Pyke even though her brother is ahead of her in the line of succession, stole around half of the Iron fleet and all of the best ships from her uncle right before she sailed off east.”

Sam had to admit that even though he really didn’t like the ironborn on principle, he had to admire Asha Greyjoy for stealing the Iron fleet right from under her uncle´s nose.

His thoughts turned to the Valyrian steel sword that was hidden in the room Gilly and he shared at the small inn that she worked in.

But stealing a sword was not nearly as daring as stealing half a fleet, even if that sword was made of Valyrian steel. But they needed that sword to fight the dead and he knew that his father would never believe that the Others and the dead were marching to the Wall at this very moment.

Sam knew that not many people would believe that the dead were coming without proof, and he could understand that very well. If someone told him that the dead were coming for them all and didn’t have any proof on hand, he would not have believed them.

Again, he could feel the letter in his pocket burn at him and he wished that he had gotten it before he had taken the sword. It was hard to believe their luck that Jon had manage to procure proof that the Others were coming and again he hoped that the letter from Edd was completely true, as most of the people of Westeros would think them mad for even suggesting it that the dead were rising beyond the Wall.

“But whatever happens, I hope that Euron Greyjoy and his reavers don’t come here to try and sack the city.” Alleras said quietly.

Sam couldn’t agree more with his friend, even though it would be madness to try and take the city especially with the Redwyne fleet so close and completely unspent even after the war of the five Kings.

“But even if he did, he would have a hard time taking it.” Sam said with a nervous smile, not sure if he was trying to assure his friend or himself. “I mean the Tyrell army will be here soon.”

Alleras rolled his eye. “Yes, the Tyrell army, I feel safer already.”

Sam should have known that mentioning the Tyrell´s wouldn’t assure the Dornish man one bit. “Well according to Leo Tyrell, he was told by Grand maester´s Walgrave´s assistant, Pate that Ser Garlan Tyrell himself is leading the army and will help lord Hightower to defend the city if the Ironborn try to attack.”

Depside himself, Alleras seemed a little impressed that Ser Garlan Tyrell would be coming with an army at his back. Even in Dorne the second Tyrell brother was respected for his military prowess.

“Lord Willas won’t be leading it himself, now that his father has gone and gotten himself held hostage by the Golden Company?” There was a hint of glee in his tone when he mentioned Mace Tyrell´s absence from the Highgarden. “And please don’t talk to me about Lazy Leo, I don’t trust a thing that idiot says or thinks.”

Sam could well understand Alleras and his anger at Leo Tyrell. The blond-haired boy had always rubbed Alleras the wrong way, but after the Sand Snakes had taken over the rule of Dorne by killing their uncle and trying to murder princess Arianne Martell, the rightful ruler, Leo had been a terror.

It was like the unrest in Dorne had given the blond a permission to torment the Dornish man endlessly, and he never let Alleras forget it that it was bastards like him that had caused the civil war to begin with.

Leo Tyrell seemed to have taken this as a sign that everything bad said about bastards were true and it was his duty to remind Alleras that it was in a bastard’s nature to be evil.

“Sam are you ready?” The soft voice of Alleras broke through his thoughts, bringing him to the present.

Sam looked over the trolly that was now filled with all manner of medical supplies that they thought that they had any use of. “Yes, I think that we have all we need.”

He looked up at the other boy. “Thank you Alleras, for helping me. I know that it can´t be easy since Ser Jorah sold slaves and all.”

Alleras gave him a tight but kind smile. “It´s fine, but I am not doing it for him; I am doing this for experience and for my friend Sam, who has a serious saving people problem.”

Chapter Text

JON

He felt the southern air of the Riverlands tug at the few loose curls that had escaped the leather tie that kept his unruly hair from being constantly in his eyes, and he felt a smile stretch across his face.

After spending so much time in the Twins, finding those guilty of betraying Robb, holding trials, and making sure that the lords were all on his side so that they could try and negotiate terms of surrender from the Lannisters holding Riverrun, he felt the urgent need to ride Rhaegal to clear his head.

In the last few months, he had only grown more convinced that there was nothing better to clear one´s head than flying on the back of a dragon. It was like all his troubles seemed smaller and more manageable than before and it became easier to think.

He closed his eyes for a moment and just listened to the beating of the gigantic, leathery wings of Rhaegal and Viserion, and as he felt the comforting heat of the emerald dragon he was riding, a wave of calm wash over him.

When he opened his eyes once again Jon could see the Green Fork stretch out to the horizon like a deep wound in the landscape, as little farms dotted the green earth below them.

But as Jon looked longer at the ground, he could feel a frown replace the smile that had made its way onto his face. He could see that many of the farmhouses were in ruins, and most of the farmlands were overgrown and seemed been abandoned for some time. 

It would take a lot of time for the smallfolk of the Riverlands to rebuild their lives or even some resemblance of it after the horrors of the War of the Five Kings.

As he watched the ruins of the farms below them as they flew over the Riverlands, the realization of the destruction that war among the highborn brought upon the smallfolk hit him like it had never before.

He had known for a long time how the smallfolk could suffer when the lords and ladies of the realm fought their wars. Jon had known since he had bothered to get to know his brothers of the Nights Watch and stopped pretending that he was better than them because he was raised in a castle.

Just thinking about how naive he had been, made him want to cringe with embarrassment and hide his face in his hands.

Then suddenly, he felt Rhaegal swoop down making Jon´s stomach drop. They only dropped down a few meters before they climbed even higher into the sky than before.

Jon could feel Rhaegal´s happy and teasing mood as his own, and he couldn’t help but to let out a small laugh as the dragon let out a short joyful shriek that Viserion echoed as he trailed a short distance behind them.

He shook his head as they continued their flight over the Riverlands, scouting a head of the army. He felt that it was a good excuse as any, so that he might enjoy a brief pause in entertaining the lords and make him feel a little more useful than he normally did on their march south.

Entertaining the lords and making sure that the men´s moral was high was extremely important and he knew that this was something that he needed to do and do well. But there were times that all he wanted to do was to sit in silence and think, and the moments he could do that were getting fewer and further in between.

A sharp nudge in his mind from Rhaegal pulled at him, making him look to the west. While Jon couldn’t see anything with his own eyes, Rhaegal´s sense of smell indicated that a group of men, likely the size of a small army was coming their way.

Rhaegal´s sense of smell, while not as powerful and accurate as Ghost´s, was more than good enough to identify the men´s presence and locate them with such accuracy that the dragon would have no problem finding them within seconds of picking up their smell.

It only took Jon a moment to decide to fly over to them to see what kind of banner the gathered host flew, if only to see if the men were Lannister supporters.

Jon didn’t think that it was likely as they were in the Riverlands, and the men of the West weren’t well loved here, even though most of the Riverlords had surrendered after Robb´s murder.

He looked back down at the ground to give the destroyed farms one more glance. He felt a need to burn the image into his memory, so that he would never forget the horrors that the smallfolk had suffered when the Highborn fought amongst themselves.

As Jon and the dragons made their way West to meet the army marching towards them, he made sure that Rhaegal and Viserion where both flying high and out of range of any arrows just in case.

He doubted that the dragons would be amused if any archers started to let arrows loose on them and he wanted to be out of range in case that the men had managed to construct scorpions and were traveling with them.

Jon had no doubt in his mind that when more and more people started to learn that he had dragons, the lords and those in power that were fighting against him would start constructing scorpions to try and shot down the dragons.

The scorpions where the only things that they knew of that could actually kill a dragon when they were in the air that wasn’t another dragon, and if they had good engineers and enough money and raw materials, they could make relatively reliable weapons, but even then, scorpions were heavy and not that accurate. That however would not mean that Jon wouldn’t be cautious when it came to the dragon’s health and welfare.

But the more Jon thought about it, the unlikelier he thought it was that the men making their way north to the Twins were working with the Lannisters.

The lord closest to the Twins and most likely marching towards them was lord Jason Mallister, the lord of Seagard.

Both lord Edmure and Ser Brynden had spoken well of the man and said that lord Jason´s son and heir, Patrek Mallister had been in Robb´s battle guard.

As they flew closer and closer to the source of the smell that Rhaegal had found, Jon´s suspicions of who had gathered men was proven right.

He watched as the purple banner and the silver eagle of the Mallister´s of Seagard appeared on the horizon, and he made sure that Rhaegal announced their arrival before they could spot them in the sky.

Rhaegal let out one of his shrieking roars that carried all around them and as he sat on the emerald dragon´s back, he could feel it vibrate all though his body and tug at his gut.

Almost as soon as Rhaegal´s roar died on the air, Viserion let out one of his own and together they climbed a little higher in the sky, while still being able to spot the army with ease.

Even though he was so high in the air, he could make out how the horses became frightened, and the men stopped their marching and looked at Rhaegal and Viserion in shock.

As they passed the men, he could see riders travel up and down the column of soldiers, trying to restore order among the ranks.

When Rhaegal turned around, Jon spotted a grassy hill that was far enough away from the men that they couldn’t attack him, and close enough for him to meet with lord Mallister and for the men to see them, so that they would be assured of their lord´s safety.

Rhaegal landed on top of the hill with all the grace of a dancer and lowered his shoulder so Jon could easily make his way of his back and on to the ground safely, as Viserion continued to fly high in the air above them. It filled Jon with a strange sort of longing to join him, and not for the first time he was filled with awe that only moments ago he and Rhaegal had been soaring in the sky with him.

Jon laced his fingers behind his back and took a few steps forward, making it clear that he had dismounted and wanted to speak to the lord of Seagard.

As he watched a few men on horses, grouped together, most likely to have a rushed meeting about if it was safe for the lord to approach himself or if he should send a representative in his stead as Jon basked in the reassuring heat of Rhaegal that seeped into his bones as they waited.

Rhaegal, in true draconic impatience, let out sharp shriek as if trying to hurry the men up. Jon glanced back at the emerald dragon and offered him a small smile of amusement, before turning back to the men, who had clearly gotten the message.

He watched as a few of the men rode from the column of soldiers and headed towards where they had landed.

The man at the head of the riders was tall and carried himself as bravely as any man could when riding towards an enormous dragon.

The riders stopped at the foot of the hill, and the tall man dismounted and handed the reins to one of his men. Two guards hurriedly dismounted as well, and Jon watched them was they made their way up the hill.

The man leading them was tall indeed and he was clean shaven with blue grey eyes and high cheekbones that Jon noticed was prominent in the nobility of the Riverlands.

Jon watched the man´s eyes darted between Jon and Rhaegal in such astonishment that Jon almost thought that the man´s eyes would pop out of his skull in a few moments. “Are you lord Jason Mallister?” Jon asked taking in the silver eagle on the purple field that was sewn onto the man´s doublet.

“Indeed, I am, your grace.” The man gave him a deep bow, which the two guards hurriedly copied while trying their best not to take their eyes of Rhaegal´s massive form.

Jon raised an eyebrow at the fact that the man had called him your grace. Lord Edmure´s raven to Seagard had most likely only just arrived, and Jon doubted that lord Mallister had read it as the man would have been on the march for days since he was now so close to the Twins.

“My apologies for Rhaegal´s impatience my lord; Dragons, I am afraid don´t like to wait. But if I may ask my lord, what are you doing moving north with an army?”

Jon made sure that there was no accusation in his tone, only curiosity. It wouldn’t do to anger the man needlessly when he wanted the man´s support.

The man stared at him wide eyed before finding his voice. “When I heard that you were making your way south to avenge the Red Wedding, I knew that I had to come.”

“You were on your way to the Twins?”

“Yes, indeed. I had plans to lay siege to the western tower while you and the Northern lords and the knights of the Vale moved in from the North, but I see now that I was too late.”

“You had already heard that the knights of the Vale had joined us?” Jon asked curiously.

“Yes indeed, we have been hearing all sorts of rumors for weeks now, some more unbelievable than others I must say; but I knew that King Robb´s broth…cousin wouldn’t let his murder go unanswered.”

The older man´s eyes seemed to seek out the gigantic dragon behind Jon and he could see both fear and wonder in the Riverlord´s eyes. “Your grace, if I may ask; how did you hatch those dragons and how did you keep them a secret for so long?”

“I didn´t.”

“I don’t understand your grace…” The man said uncertainly.

Jon glanced at the pale and golden dragon that was flying high above them. “Rhaegal and Viserion were not hatched by me, they came to me from Essos, while the other four dragons are in Winterfell, guarding my family.”

The man´s eyes widened in surprise at Jon´s words. “So, it is true that lord Rickon is alive and well? And that you saved him and ladies Shireen Baratheon and Sansa Stark from the Bastard of Bolton?”

“Lady Shireen was saved from her father by Ser Devan Seaworth, her sworn shield when lord Stannis intended to burn her alive, and Queen Sansa saved herself from Ramsay Snow with the help from Theon Greyjoy and Ser Brienne of Tarth.” Jon said and watched the man stare at him in surprise at his words.

“Queen Sansa? So, it is true that you married your cousin and made her your Queen?” When Jon nodded to confirm the man´s question, lord Mallister looked hesitant before speaking once again.

“And Theon Turncloak helped save King Robb´s sister?”

“Aye, he did.”

The man before him looked troubled. “So, he didn’t murder lords Brandon and Rickon Stark and saved King Robb´s sister. We all thought that he was a monster in human disguise after his betrayal of King Robb.”

“He didn’t murder Bran and Rickon and he did help save Queen Sansa from a monster, and he himself was tortured by Ramsay Snow. But he still betrayed Robb and murdered two farmers boys and many of the people in Winterfell.”

“What will you do with him when you find him?” The man asked Jon in a curious tone and Jon felt like the man´s blue gray eyes seemed to bore into him as he waited for Jon to answer.

“I don’t know, but Theon Greyjoy is not my immediate concern right now. Rather taking back Riverrun and restoring lord Edmure Tully as the lord paramount of the Riverlands.”

“Lord Edmure is alive and well?” As Jon confirmed that lord Edmure was alive, lord Mallister looked relived. “Thank the gods for that, we feared the worst when we heard that he was at the mercy of Walder Frey and his brood.”

“Lord Walder and those who helped in the Red Wedding have been punished and we are moving toward Riverrun, lord Edmure has sent letters to all his vassal lords that they should rouse their men and march on Riverrun.”

“Then lord Edmure has declared for you, your grace?” The man asked, with nervousness coloring his tone.

“Aye, he has, and he told me that he has instructed his lords to follow his lead.”

The tall man looked even more nervous than before. “Your grace, I don’t know if you know this, but I fought against house Targaryen in the rebellion and I slew three of your fathers bannermen myself.”

“I am not my father, my lord, and I am certainly not my grandfather.” Jon said in a calm but measured tone. “Aerys Targaryen needed to be dethroned and while I would have preferred it to be done bloodlessly, there is no point for us to endlessly wonder and wish it had been different as we cannot change the past. And on the fact that you killed three of my father’s bannermen, you were in a battle and if given half the change they would have done the same to you.”

The man blinked at him. “I must confess, that when I heard of your existence and that you were the true heir to the Iron throne, I didn’t know what to expect but I can see now that your lord uncle raised a good man and true.”

“I thank you my lord. I think it is time for us to stop living in the past and start concentrating on coming together and build a better future for us all.” Jon gave the man a small smile which was heartily returned.

“Yes, I think that you have the right of it, my King.”

JAIME

Glory nickered under him and tossed his chestnut mane as they rode through the unnaturally quiet encampment with Bronn and Ser Addam Marbrand at his sides, and even though the colorful banners of the houses of the Westerlands were flying proudly all around them, it reminded Jaime more of a funeral than a war camp.

He rubbed his eyes and tried to ignore the burn that flared in them as he fought to keep them open. He was so exhausted and all he wanted to do was to go back to his chambers and lie down on the soft bed and take a nap.

His dreams had been haunted with specters of white and shades with indigo eyes, asking him why he had failed Rhaenys, Aegon and Elia, as Jaime begged them to understand that he hadn´t known that his father had already send his men into the Red keep and that the children and their mother were being murdered while he sat on the Iron throne while staring at Eddard Stark´s judging eyes.

Since he had learned of how Eddard Stark had managed to hide the last son and heir to Rhaegar Targaryen, the dreams had come back to haunt him with vengeance, making sure that he didn’t get a good night´s sleep.

Jaime felt irritation as a chilly gust of wind from the North rushed at his face as Ser Addam Marbrand sent him a concerned look, as they rode though the encampment of the Lannister army, and he knew that it would be hours before he could lie down into his feather bed in his quarters in Riverrun.

Jaime glanced to his side where the usually smug and confident sellsword was riding beside him and he felt himself growing unnerved by the man´s unusually silent and serious countenance.

Ever since he had heard about Rhaegar´s second son in the North, who was rumored to have hatched dragons, Bronn had grown quiet and serious like everyone else at Riverrun.

Jaime was nervous as well, but he made sure that he didn’t let it show, for if he did all hell would break loose and the men would desert in droves.

The news of Jon Targaryen and his newly hatched dragons were already spreading throughout the encampment like wildfire, and some of the rumors even went so far as to say that the boy had been murdered and risen from the dead with the dragons from a great pyre.

Already they had to hang three dozen men for trying to run back to the Westerlands, who were now hanging at the edges of the encampment to dissuade others to try and run away in the dark of night.

His father had made sure that Jaime understood the importance of having proper discipline installed into the men fighting under his command.

But ever since the siege at Riverrun against the Blackfish, Jaime had started to have his doubts about the lessons that his father had imparted with him and his sister.

Jaime felt ashamed of himself for having threatened Edmure Tully to catapult his son at the Walls of the castle that he found it hard to look at himself in the looking glass.

He knew that it had allowed him to take the castle bloodlessly and he had never had any intentions of following through with the threats, and he had been confident that Edmure Tully would have believed Jaime capable of catapulting the infant at the Walls of Riverrun.

Three years ago, the man would most likely been right, but now every time he thought about the threats he had made, he was haunted by the image of little Tommen or sweet Myrcella being thrown at the walls of Casterly Rock.

He could see the terrified look in Tully blue eyes as a small boy fell to the ground, to be broken beyond repair. A small child with all his future ahead of him, doomed to spend the rest of his life without the use of his legs, until he was betrayed and murdered by a boy who had been raised alongside him as another brother.

His green eyes flickered to the cold metal hand that covered his stump, even though the hand that had thrown Brandon Stark out of that tower was gone, the sins of his actions still remined.

Jaime could almost hear his father snarl at him, the lion doesn’t concern himself with the opinions of the sheep.

He fought an eye roll at his father’s mantra that echoed in his head.

But does the dragon concern himself with the opinion of the lion? He asked his father´s echo.

What would Rhaegar´s son do when he came here to Riverrun, and found the man that had killed his grandfather and allowed the mountain and Amory Lorch to kill Elia Martel, and his siblings?

The atmosphere in the encampment around Riverrun was somber, as news had started to reach the men that Rhaegar´s trueborn son by Lyanna Stark was believed to be making his way south to the Riverlands to avenge the death of his cousin at the Red Wedding with four dragons at his side.

Jaime wasn´t really worried about the dragons yet, as they could only have been hatched recently and according to the maester at Riverrun and everything that Tyrion had ever told him when they spoke about his favorite subject, the Targaryen dragons had taken years to grow to the size that would allow even children to ride them.

If he remembered correctly then it had taken Morning, the last dragon who had taken a rider, eight or nine years to be large enough to allow even the small sized Rhaena Targaryen to ride him.

So, he wasn’t that worried about the dragons for now.

“How many men can we house in the castle?” Jaime asked his childhood friend, Ser Addam, who was riding on his other side.

“Not enough should the boy really come south.”

Bronn snorted. “Oh, he will, make no mistake.”

“Have you heard anything new?” Addam asked, and Jaime would have to have been deaf not to hear that Addam didn’t like the sellsword, from the man´s tone of voice alone.

Bronn shot the man an irritated look. “The Freys betrayed his brother or cousin, depending on who you ask, so he will want revenge for that and after that, there is a Frey right here as well that he might want to punish for the treachery of his family.”

Jaime could see the truth of his words as plain as day. If a person had done something like what his own father had done with Walder Frey and Roose Bolton, he would have raged and charged at the Twins to avenge his family.

Addam said nothing to the sellsword, and Jaime could see that Bronn´s words made sense to him as well.

For a few hours they made their way through the encampments, making sure that everything was in order and for the soldiers to see them and to keep the moral from plummeting even further.

But when they were halfway through the camp, they could see Genna and her worthless husband ride towards them, and Jaime noticed that Emmon´s stunning grey stallion was not completely under the man´s control.

He could hear Bronn snigger as the horse tried to follow a mare in heat that was passing by, rather than to listen to Emmon, but the weasel like man managed to rein in his stallion.

Emmon Frey looked like an overly large vulture that was trying and failing to launch himself into the air as the man´s thick cloak flapped around his shoulders with every movement of the grey mount.

When they finally reached the three men, Jaime could see that his uncle was paler than he had ever seen him, while Genna looked very irritated.

“We need to talk.” Emmon spat out, his eyes were wild with both fear and fury.

“Calm down Emmon, we didn’t need to ride out here to talk to Jaime, we could have waited for them to return to the castle.” Genna was still rightfully angry at her husband for having sent Edmure Tully to the Twins.

“What is going on?” Jaime looked between the two, as his aunt gave her husband the angriest stare that he had seen in a long time.

But he was ignored. “But he needs to know now, there is not a moment to lose.”

“It is better to wait until we are inside.” She hissed at Emmon in anger and Jaime thought for a moment that she would hit him.

“But-.”

“Stop this foolishness Emmon, you made me ride out here after you, to stop you from doing something stupid once again, and you will listen to me.”

Jaime kept looking between them. “What is going on?”

Genna around them discreetly before she answered. “I think that it is best to discuss it in private.”

Emmon opened his mouth to protest, but he was silenced by an angry glare from his wife.

While Jaime didn’t like having to go back to the castle without finishing his inspection of the camp, but there was a worried look on his aunt Genna´s face which made it clear that Jaime needed to hear what she had to say.

They hurriedly rode back to the castle and followed Genna and Emmon to the lord´s solar of Riverrun.

As they entered Emmon shot Bronn a ugly look. “This is a matter for lords, not common sellswords.”

“Uncle Emmon, Ser Bronn is here at my behest.” Emmon was not happy with Jaime´s words but he didn’t say anything else and only sent Bronn a hateful look, which the sellsword only smirked at.

“Lady Genna, what is going on?”

Genna shooed her husband out of the lord´s chair and sat down in it herself, before answering Addam.

Jaime had to fight the smile which wanted to spread over his face at seeing his aunt practically throw her husband out of the chair and show them all who really ruled the castle.

“We have had word from my people in the Crownlands, Ser Davos Seaworth has taken Dragonstone in his new King´s name, and the Crownlords and the lords of the Narrow sea have all declared for Jon Targaryen.”

Addam swore quietly. “Are you sure my lady? They have all going over to this Northern Targaryen?”

“Yes, I am sure, and they have started so block any access to the capital by sea, and now that the Tyrells have stopped suppling King´s Landing with food, there have been some riots in the city as food is getting harder to come by.”

Jaime could feel the worry about little Tommen, who was still in the city. He should have insisted that Tommen be taken to Casterly Rock for his safety, but he knew that his sister would never have agreed to have her last living child taken away from her.

Just thinking about Cersei brought the burning fury back in his gut.

After his aunt had told him what Cersei had done, he felt horror and a sense of failure that his own sister had started down the path that Aerys had begun.

If she could burn down the Great Sept of Baelor when it was filled with people, she was capable of finishing Aerys´s work.

“So, the boy has three of the Seven Kingdoms without even reaching Riverrun.” Addam was looking more worried than Jaime had even known that he was capable of.

“Indeed,” Genna nodded stiffly. “he now has the North, the Vale and the Crownlands, and when the Riverlords learn that he is making his way south to avenge the Red Wedding, they will most likely rally to his side.”

“Without a doubt.” Addam rubbed his brow in expiration. “The boy will have control over more than half the continent before ever stepping a foot in the Riverlands to go to King´s Landing.”

Bronn leaned back in his chair. “Well, we are fucked.”

Emmon seemed to have had enough of being silent. “Tell them about the other thing, tell them.”

Genna shot her husband another angry look before speaking. “I was getting to that.” It was clear that Genna was getting tired of her husband now that he no longer lived-in fear of Tywin´s wrath. “There have been rumors that Jon Targaryen is already heading towards the Twins at this moment to avenge the Red Wedding.”

“Have you heard where he is or when he is expected to arrive?” Jaime found himself asking.

“No, I have not. It is getting harder and harder to get information since everyone is preparing for another war.” There was something in her eyes that made it like she was hiding something. “And it is harder to separate the rumors from the truth.”

This piped Jaime´s interest. He had been hungry for any news about Rhaegar´s last surviving child and a part of him wanted to meet him again.

Jaime was going to ask, but Genna silenced him with a look. Making it clear that they were going to talk about it when they were alone.

He turned to Bronn and Addam. “Prepare the men for a siege but let’s try and be ready for a march as soon as we can, in case we will need to.”

Bronn and Addam looked like they wanted to say and hear more of Rhaegar´s son, but they relented and left the solar.

When they had left the solar, Jaime turned to face his aunt. “What rumors were you talking about?”

Genna turned to face her husband. “Emmon leave us, I have some things to discuss with my nephew.”

“But I am the-.”

“Now.”

The man, seeing his wife was now serious, hurried out of the solar with a sullen look on his face.

“What I am about to tell you, should not go beyond these walls.” Jaime had never seen his aunt look so frightened before in his life as he nodded.

“Of course, aunt Genna, you have my word.”

His aunt fell silent for a moment and Jaime felt alarmed at seeing the woman before him so unsure and nervous. “There have been rumors coming from the North that are almost impossible for me to believe but given how many people are talking about this and how many of my people are swearing up and down that they are true, make it impossible for me to ignore these rumors.”

“What do these rumors say?” Jaime felt himself inch closer to the edge of his seat in anticipation at hearing what she had to say.

“There is no good way for me to say this, so I´ll just come right out and say it. They say that Jon Targaryen doesn’t have four dragons, but six.”

“Six?” He gripped the armrest of his chair tighter and stared at his aunt in disbelieve.

“Yes, six and to make matters even worse, the two new dragons are rideable, and he has even claimed one of them as his own.”

“That is not possible, aunt Genna.” He found himself speaking, trying to get her to understand that this couldn’t possibly be true. “He couldn’t have hidden dragons long enough for them to grow up to a size for him to ride one of them. Where could he have hidden them? People would have found out, you can’t keep a dragon hidden for years, that is impossible.”

“My people say that he didn’t keep them hidden, nor did he hatch the two larger dragons. But rather they were hatched by Daenerys Targaryen and abandoned her when she locked them in a dragonpit.”

“It’s impossible, I have never heard of any Targaryen dragons doing that.” Jaime reasoned, hoping to the Seven gods that he had the right of it.

Genna was silent for a moment before speaking. “From everything that I know of the Targaryen dragons of old, and what the maester has been telling me, then I would be inclined to agree with you, but given how many people are swearing it is true-.”

“Aunt Genna,” Jaime interrupted. “don’t you think that it is more likely that these are just exaggerated rumors that the smallfolk are telling over and over again that get more fantastical with each telling? It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Despite his reasoning, he felt worry settle in his stomach. It just sounded so impossible for the second son of Rhaegar to have summoned dragons to his side like this.

“My people also said that he used the bigger dragons to burn down the Bolton bastard´s army and saved his cousin Rickon Stark by flying with him on the back of the largest of the dragons, and then he took his cousin Sansa Stark as his Queen.”

Jaime stared at his aunt. “But…but…” He tried to formulate words, but what his aunt was saying was just so unbelievable that it seemed to have rendered his tongue useless.

But Genna seemed to have no such issue. “Even if we assume that all this talk about dragons is just nonsense, the boy still has the best claim to the throne, and three Kingdoms on his side and the Riverlords will undoubtedly join his cause.”

Her vivid green eyes stared at him intensely. “Jaime, we have to negotiate with him, our men are exhausted by the war with the Northmen, and we have no way to actually fight three of the Seven Kingdoms, especially now that Brynden Tully and Yohn Royce are advising him.”

Jaime didn’t know how to feel at this moment, it was like the world has just lost its mind. “We have nothing to negotiate with but this castle, thanks to Emmon.”

Genna stood from her chair and walked over to the chair that Addam had vacated from what felt like hours ago. As she sat down, she placed her hand on the wrist of his stump and looked deeply into his eyes. “Yes, we do Jaime.”

Chapter Text

SANSA

Her feet made no sound as she stepped lightly on the snow-covered earth, as the wind gently stirred the trees all around her.

She fixed her eyes on the buck that was standing a short distance away from his herd, as he sniffed the ground before he started to search for anything to eat that hadn´t been killed by the resent snowfall.

Her brother was next to her, waiting for her to make her move.

She inched closer while keeping her eyes firmly on the antlered animal before her, then when she was sure that she couldn’t get any closer without making the buck aware of her presence, she pounced.

Blood flowed into her mouth before the buck had even a chance to do anything but lift his head. Her mouth was clamped on the animal´s throat while her claws dug and tore at it´s flesh.

As the buck screamed, she could feel her brother slam into the large beast that she had started to bring down, and she could hear the other animals run for their lives, rather than to try and fight them off.

She bit down harder before she tore it´s throat out, causing blood to spray onto the snow-covered ground. Then she let the animal go, but the beast was already dying as it laid on its side, kicking wildly into the air, like it was desperately trying to run away from them.

As the kicks became weaker and weaker with every moment that passed, she looked at her grey brother who towered over her still.

He stared at her, waiting for her to take the first bite. She felt pride in herself for having taken down such a large and powerful creature, without it even having known what was happening until it was all over.

She went to the downed creature, and just before she took her first bite, she was yanked back with now familiar force.

She looked at her surroundings, and it took her a moment to get her bearings. The taste of blood still lingered on her tongue, as she came to the realization that she was no longer a wolf, but a woman.

As she came to herself, she felt the bile rise in her throat and she hurried out of the bed she now shared with Rickon and Shireen to grab her chamber pot and vomit all the contents of her stomach.

Sweat formed on her brow as she heaved into the chamber pot, and when she was finally done, she leaned against the side of the bed, catching her breath. “Sansa?”

Her eyes searched for the small, familiar voice, and were met with blue eyes that belonged to Shireen, staring at her in concern.

Sansa gave the girl a weak smile. “It’s alright sweetling, it perfectly alright.” Maester Wolkan had assured her that it was normal for her to have trouble holding down the contents of her stomach at this stage of her pregnancy, and she remembered her own mother having trouble as well when she had been pregnant with Rickon.

And she knew that certain smells and tastes could make her nauseous, which was why she had come to hate it when she dreamt of Ice and Summer hunting, as the coppery taste of blood always managed to set her off, and she had started to avoid eating as much red meat as she could.

A mug was thrust into her hands, and Sansa drank the warm water greedily. “Thank you, Shireen.”

“You are welcome. Are you feeling better?” The concern in her eyes was heartwarming, making Sansa smile despite the discomfort she was feeling.

“I am much better thanks to you.” Sansa pushed the chamber pot away from her, not wanting to look at its contents, knowing that it would make her feel nauseous again.

A loud snore made them look back to the bed, and while Sansa and Shireen had vacated it, Rickon had used that time while he slept to lay claim to the bed in its entirety, making both her and her husband´s cousin giggle at the young boy.

She had come to love and depend on little Rickon climbing into her bed in the middle of the night, and then having Shireen follow him a few moments later.

As they giggled at Rickon´s dramatic sleeping habits, Sansa´s handmaiden knocked and entered the room. “Your grace, it is time to get ready and break your fast.”

Sansa stood up, placed the mug on the nightstand and gave her little brother a shake to wake him up, only to have the young boy groan loudly and try and to turn away and get some more sleep. “Come on, Rickon.” Sansa said laughing. “You have to wake up, you have to start your day and attend your studies with maester Wolkan.”

“I don’t want to.” Rickon disappeared under the covers and out of sight, making Sansa force down a giggle at him.

Sansa turned to Lyta. “Could you go to Shireen´s room and get her some appropriate clothing for her.” Lyta nodded and hurried out of room, while leaving Sansa to wake up her little brother.

“Come on Rickon, it is time to get up.” Rickon burrowed further down under the furs and made a sound of disagreement.

“I don’t wanna.”

Shireen´s cheeks turned red as she forced down another giggle at Rickon´s behavior and Sansa smirked to herself, before she yanked the fur of her little brother and tickled him, causing the youngest Stark to burst out in giggles of his own. “Stop it Sansa.”

She stopped tickling him as the boy stared at her with his large blue eyes. He was having difficulty holding the pout on his lips, as there was a smile that was fighting to be allowed to slip on to his face.

“Your mean.” But the laughter in his voice took all the bite out of his accusation and he tried to scrunch up his face to keep the pout firmly on his face.

“Oh, I am mean, now am I?” Sansa grinned at him. “Then perhaps I should not come and watch you train later?”

“NO, you have to come and watch us train Sansa.” Rickon glanced at Shireen, now awake and alert. “Reenie, tell her that she has to come and watch.”

Sansa took a seat on the bed as she pulled him to her lap and hugged him close. “Well, for me to be able to watch, you have to get up and attend your lessons. All your lessons.”

Rickon groaned and pulled himself out of her lap and let himself fall back on to the bed. “But the lessons with maester Wolkan are so boring.”

“They are not that boring.” Shireen said. “They are just too early.”

Rickon let out another groan, as Sansa stood up and walked to the screen that had belonged to her mother.

She threw on a blue woolen dress that was sure to keep her warm throughout the day and made her way back where the children that were starting a tickle battle.

Sansa remembered having such battles with Robb when they had been children before she had started to pull more and more away from her siblings to try and become the perfect lady.

Now, she deeply regretted how she had pulled away from her siblings and Jon. She now had the opportunity to spend time with Bran and Rickon, and Arya when she made her way back to Winterfell. If she ever made her way home.

Sansa hoped that Arya would come back home to Winterfell.

She longed to meet her little sister again and ask for her forgiveness for all the horrible things that she had said and done to her as a child.

But she could never again meet her older brother and tell him that she loved him, and that broke her heart. Even though she felt more than a little angry that to her knowledge he had never even attempted to try and break her out of the capital.

Robb was now gone, so she would never really get an answer from him about why he didn’t try and send some men to rescue her from the Lannisters.

She knew that Robb couldn’t have sent any of his Northerners as they would have stuck out like a sore thumb in the capital, but he had Riverlanders under his command, and he could have tried to send them. But perhaps Robb had tried to send men to try and save her, but they had been caught and Cersei hadn´t wanted her to know that Robb had been trying to get her.

However, that argument didn’t hold much water for Sansa.

While having Sansa doubting that Robb wanted her back was heartbreaking for her and chipped away at her moral, she doubted that Cersei could have stopped herself from mocking and taunting her with the fact that the rescue attempt had failed.

And her uncle Brynden hadn´t said one word about Robb sending men to help free her, so she didn’t think that Robb had sent any men.

But it would do her no good to stay lost in the past, she had to keep moving forward for her family and for herself.

“Come on Shireen, we need to get you ready.” The young girl jumped of the bed and sat down in the chair by the vanity and started to brush her hair.

Sansa turned to Rickon, who was now inching back under the furs. “No, you have to get ready as well young man.”

With a grumble Rickon got up from the bed and made his way to his own room so that he could get ready for the struggles of the day. She heard the guards greet him as the door closed after him and the young boy grumble a good morning back.

Rickon reminded her so much of both Robb and Arya, with his desire to sleep in for as long as he could.

Sansa walked over to Shireen and took the hairbrush from her hand and started to detangle the raven locks as gently as she could. “So, are you nervous?” Sansa asked her husband´s cousin and looked at the younger girl´s eyes in the looking glass.

Shireen bit her lip and nodded. “Yes, I am. What if Jeor Mormont doesn’t like me?”

Sansa remembered asking her mother the very same question about Joffrey and her mother had told her that if he didn’t like her, then he was the stupidest boy that had ever lived.

But her words hadn´t done much to console her, at that time Sansa had wanted her mother to assure her that of course Joffrey would love her immediately.

Shireen however wasn’t Sansa and the young lady of Storm´s End had her feet firmly planted on the ground.

“Well, if you and Jeor don’t like each other, then Jon and I will have to find a way to get you out of the betrothal.” Sansa knew that there were ways to break betrothal´s with both families being able to keep their honor intact. “but we should at least give the boy a chance to prove himself worthy of you.”

Her father´s words echoed in her mind, and while Sansa had now found a man that was good, kind, gentle and brave, she wasn’t stupid and knew that not all men were so good and kind, but she would settle for nothing less for Shireen.

“I promise to give him a chance.” Shireen smiled at her.

“I know,” Sansa started to braid her hair. “but if you ever think that he is being strange or inappropriate, then I want you to tell me immediately.”

“Like how cousi…. Joffrey was?” Sansa stopped braiding her hair for a moment before she continued.

“Yes, like how he was, but I didn’t know you had met him.”

“I didn’t, before coming to the Wall, I had never really left Dragonstone, but I heard mother and father talk about him a few times after he returned after Jon Arryn died, and father said that Joffrey was a cruel little bastard.”

For a moment Sansa was worried that mentioning her father would make Shireen feel devastated, but she knew that the girl wasn’t made of glass and she and Ser Devan had survived for weeks being hunted around the North.

Shireen was tough, and Sansa knew that ignoring the issue wouldn’t help her heal, but young woman had to know her own limits.

“You are being really brave, and I know that being promised to someone you don’t know is frightening.” Sansa remembered when Littlefinger had made it clear that she was being forced to marry Ramsay Snow, and without even knowing what sort of monster he was, she had been very frightened of the prospect of marrying someone she didn’t know.

Which was why she had decided to invite Jeor Mormont and Branda Wull to Winterfell so that Rickon and Shireen could meet their future spouses and hopefully become friends with them.

And Sansa wanted to meet them and take the measure of them.

“Now, why don’t you go down to the great hall and break your fast and I will be down shortly.”

Shireen nodded and walked out of the room, with the skirt dancing around her feet as she went.

Sansa sat down in the chair and started to work on her own hair, but she was interrupted by a knock. She called for the person to come in and smiled at the maester as he entered.

“Your grace.” He bowed deeply and nodded to Lyta, who was tiding up around the room. “how are you your grace? Any sickness?”

“Yes, there was I am afraid.” She smiled at the kind older man who had done so much to help her in when she had been the prisoner of the Boltons. The man had helped heal her wounds and helped her make sure that Ramsey´s seed didn’t take root in her, and for that Sansa was eternally grateful.

“There was a letter for you, my Queen.” Maester Wolkan handed her a letter, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the now familiar red dragon of house Targaryen and on the front of the letter was the tidy scrawl of her husband.

She tore it open with such enthusiasm that she almost ripped the letter in her excitement.

With every word that her husband had written, she could feel both relief and grief at the same time. The happiness of knowing for sure that Arya was alive, well and helping Jon in the Riverlands made her heart sing, but the fact that the Freys had desecrated Robb´s body like how they had done, made her eyes burn with unshed tears.

Jon didn’t go into any details of what the Freys had done with Robb´s and Greywind´s bodies, but she had heard enough in King´s Landing.

Joffrey had liked to taunt her with it, and the only thing she had been able to do in response by saying that her brother was a traitor and deserved a traitor´s death.

Reading Jon´s words that they had found those guilty of betraying Robb, and Old Walder Frey had been executed along with his sons and grandsons who had helped him, made her feel like a little justice had been served.

But Roose Bolton and Tywin Lannister had both been killed before being made to answer for their crimes.

They had never been stripped of their titles, made to kneel before the rightful King and have all their crimes laid before the lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms.

That would have been justice for their crimes.

It would have been a great comeuppance for them to have everything taken away from them, as they seemed only concerned with standing and how they were seen by the world.

The two men, however, were already dead, and there was nothing she nor anybody else could do about it.

But at least Old Walder and his sons and grandsons that had helped him, had faced justice, and been forced to answer for their crimes and Jon had found Robb´s and Greywind´s bodies, and they were coming home to Winterfell.

Robb coming home to rest alongside the other Starks that had died made her feel better, knowing that her brother would finally be able to rest with the dignity that he deserved.

If only they could find the bones of her father and mother, and give them proper funerals, but she didn’t hold out hope for that to happen as it was a miracle in and out of itself that Jon had found Robb´s bones.

Sansa set down the letter as both the maester and Lyta were staring at her. “Your grace,” The maester spoke carefully and seemed worried. “may I ask what the King has written you about? You seem worried, and in your condition, it isn’t good for you.”

“They have taken the Twins and have held trials for Walder Frey and those who were suspected in betraying Robb.”

“That is wonderful your grace.” Lyta said happily.

“It is, and they have also found Robb´s body and Jon is sending it here so that he can rest in the crypts of Winterfell.”

“Happy news all around then your grace.” The maester said with a large grin.

“Yes, and not just that, my sister Arya has been found and is safe.”

“Then why do you look so sad, your grace?” The maester asked her, concerned. “Is it the King? Was he injured?”

“No, his grace is fine, thank the Gods.” Sansa send the man a sad smile. “I just cannot help but to think that it is unfair that so many good people were murdered at the hands of those monsters, and Roose Bolton and Tywin Lannister never got punished for their crimes.”

Silence fell over them, both Lyta and maester Wolkan not knowing what to say to make her feel better, but there were no words that they needed to utter that would comfort Sansa.

There was nothing that they could do to change the past, the only thing that they could do was to learn from it and move on with their lives and try to make the world a little better.

“So, maester Wolkan, what is on today’s agenda?”

DAENERYS

Drogon´s wings created a thunder like sound on the wind, as the bells in her hair chimed merrily, and he let out a rage filled roar that made her head feel like it was splitting open from pain.

But despite the pain, Dany smiled at her beloved child, as they flew over the yellow city. He must have felt her anger and rage at the slavers and their betrayals, making him want to avenge her with fire and blood.

She could hear the Dothraki, and the second sons cheer for her, as she and Drogon flew over Yunkai and she could feel a bubble of emotions in her chest at the sound. This must have been what Aegon the Conqueror had felt like before he had taken Harrenhall.

As they made their pass over the city, she looked at its half-crumbled walls, and she could see the soldiers were looking up at her with fear in their eyes, as they pointed and stared after her and Drogon.

Good, they should be afraid of her after what they had done, she thought to herself with smile before she observed strange contraptions that had been mounted on the walls.

They looked like enormous crossbows, and there had to be at least a dozen of them on the walls of the city alone.

As she and Drogon made another pass over the city, she could see more of them mounted on rooftops on high buildings all around the city.

Had the master´s built them to try and make her fear for her child?

Dany glanced out to the sea, where she could see the ships that the Greyjoy siblings had brought her. The black and golden sails dotted the sea around the harbor like spiders, blocking off any escape from the city, making sure that the masters had nowhere to run off to.

She continued to fly over the yellow city, and as she and Drogon passed the golden pyramid of Qaggaz, she felt the pain in her head flare up as the sun shone on the pyramid´s walls. But she did catch a glimpse of another of the gigantic crossbows, on top of the pyramid, where a statue of the Harpy had once stood.

Dany made Drogon turn away from the golden building, it hurt just to look at it in the sun light, and they made their way to the encampment of her armies.

Drogon flew over to the middle of the encampment where they had left a huge open space for him to land.

The black dread come again, landed on the sand covered ground with a loud thump that made the earth around him shake, as he forced sand and dust into the air, before he roared with such force that she could feel it rattle her bones.

Before Dany could even dismount, Drogon made his way to where her bloodriders had placed a large pile of meat to feed him while she would be accepting the master´s terms of surrender.

Dany smiled indulgently at Drogon, like only a mother could, before she dismounted from his back.

As her soft leather boots touched the ground, she could feel the thousands of eyes that were filled with wonder and awe as they all stared at her and Drogon.

She held her head higher as the Dothraki and the second sons started to cheer for her, and she made her way to the great tent that had no walls, that had been raised close by.

But before she had even taken a few steps forwards, Ser Barristan came hurriedly out of the tent and bowed before her.

The lord commander escorted her to the tent, following her only a step or two behind to keep a look out in case any of the masters tried to harm her.

But she doubted that they could harm her here, with Drogon just outside the tent, ready to defend her life at all costs.

They entered the tent, and Dany took her seat on the makeshift throne that had been prepared for her and even though the tent was big enough to house two dragons of Drogon´s size, it was almost filled to the brim with her bloodriders, so that many of them had difficulty to see what was happening.

Daario Naharis was staring at her with wonder in his eyes as she sat down, and as the man smirked at her, she had to fight the urge to smile at him. Now was not the time for such things, the masters had to see how strong she was.

Then as Dany looked in front of her throne, there was no master or any sort of representative from the slavers of Yunkai. She felt the fury of the dragon burn in her belly, why weren’t the slavers of Yunkai here already?

Dany turned to the lord commander, who had taken up guard by her elbow as he looked as serious as the grave. “Where are the masters of Yunkai?”

“They have not arrived yet, your grace.” The old knight looked worn and tired. “But I am sure that they will be here soon.”

The Queen of Meereen and the bay of Drogon felt anger burn in her at the man´s words, she shouldn’t have to wait for anyone.

From her left, she heard Daario speak up, and without even looking at him, she could hear him smirk. “Queen Daenerys shouldn’t have to wait for anyone, this is an insult to our Queen.”

A young servant boy came with a cup of wine and offered it to Dany, as the sellsword echoed her sentiment.

He was right, Dany was the Queen of Meereen, and the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, she shouldn’t have to wait for anyone, much less those repulsive masters. They should be thankful if she decided to show them any mercy after everything that they had done.

Then they could hear someone announce that the envoy of the masters had left the front gates of the city and was on his way to her.

As the anger bubbled in her belly, she kept her face impassive. Her fingers on the other hand tightened their grip on the cup in her hand so hard that she was sure that they had turned as white as pearls.

When the envoy finally arrived, she was gripping the cup so hard in her hand that she was almost worried that it would break.

The man stepped out of his gilded litter that had been carried all the way from the city gates to her tent by slaves.

The nerve of the man infuriated Dany and as he smirked at her, clearly knowing that he was getting under her skin, Dany knew that she had to take charge of the meeting right away. 

Dany fixed her gaze on the representative of the wise masters of Yunkai, and she could feel the annoyance in her gut as she looked him over.

The master was a small man with a shifty look about him, and there was a young slave boy standing next to him, looking at Dany in fear, which caused her to frown.

Why was the boy afraid of her? She was the breaker of chains and had come to free the slaves.

The young boy spoke up and introduced the man as one of the wise masters, but the man´s clothing was not like the ones she had come to associate with the masters, the nobility of Yunkai wore fringed tokars to signify the importance of their station, but this man wore clothing that was clearly expensive, but not of those of highborn stock.

It didn’t take another look at the man for Dany to know that the masters of Yunkai were disrespecting her by sending someone of so little note to her, to offer their surrender.

“We had a deal,” She said in a conversational tone and with a look on her face that gave nothing away. “and you broke that deal. So, give me one reason why I shouldn’t return Yunkai to the dirt.”

Dany could feel Ser Barristan tense up as he stood behind her, forcing her to fight a frown. He had been the one to beg her to let the masters meet her to surrender the city, and here she was giving them that chance. What more could he want from her?

Daario on the other hand was positively giddy as she could almost feel him vibrate with excitement of avenging her, but thankfully he managed to restrain himself.

“Wouldn’t the Silver Queen be happier in her homeland? With her people?” The master suggested with a sly grin on his face. “With her family?”

Dany could feel the anger right down to her bones when he said the word family, he knew that this Aegon character was not of house Targaryen, the only family she had were her dragons. “I don´t know what you mean?” She said while pretending to not to know what he was talking about; the masters did so love to think that they were more informed than everyone else.

The man´s smirk only grew at her words. “Your nephew, Aegon Targaryen of course; who, I am told has landed in the Sunset Kingdoms, and is on his way to claim the Iron throne for himself.”

“My nephew, Aegon is dead. Murdered by the Lannisters and the Usurper, who stole my throne from me before I was born.” She beckoned for one of the servants to pour her some more sweet wine, so that she could use it to dull the headache that just kept building. “Whoever this Aegon person is, he is a pretender, and he will die like all those who have tried to keep my birthright away from me.”

Every time when someone mentioned the false dragon, she could feel the righteous anger build in her. How dare this person try and claim what was rightly hers? The mummer’s dragon would pay for his lie with his life when she would make her way to the Seven Kingdoms and take back what was stolen from her.

“That is very convenient for you, that he is a pretender and not really your brother´s son.” He smirked at her, revealing his light brown teeth. “Otherwise, he would be the rightful monarch, wouldn’t he?”

The anger only grew at his words, and she grabbed the cup in a firmer grip than before, to stop herself from striking the man.

Dany could see that the Dothraki were getting restless, as they could neither understand the common tongue and the fact that they hadn’t even started to attack the city yet.

“We are not here to talk about the traditions of inheritance of my country, but to accept your surrender.”

The man feigned an innocent look. “It is curious to me, that you are still here when the Seven Kingdoms are just ripe for the taking after the civil war, and the fact that now it is being ruled by a woman and a six-year-old child.”

Dany took a sip of her wine. “Tommen Baratheon is eight-years old.”

“Ah, yes of course.” The man stroked his forked beard. “Your adviser is Tyrion Lannister, isn’t he? The boy´s uncle? Strange how you claim that it was the Lannisters that murdered your nephew, but still here you are, having employed a Lannister yourself.”

Dany stared at the man with anger in her eyes. “Lord Tyrion is faithful to me.” She didn’t really think that was true, not really. She didn’t trust the man, nor did she particularly like him, but he had proven himself to be able to give her a helping hand in ruling Meereen, so she allowed him to stay.

“Like his father was faithful to your father?” Her nostrils flared at his words; how dare he throw her father´s name like that in her face? She could feel it in her gut that she hated this man in front of her, she had given him the opportunity to surrender, and he was now mocking her.

The smiled once again at her. “But as you said, we are not hear to discuss that.” He looked at the occupants in the tent. “You want us to surrender the city, but you must know by now that it will never happen.”

Dany smiled at the man and gave a little laugh, surprising him. “I took the city without dragons once, and you think that I cannot take it now, when I ride the greatest living dragon in the world?”

“We have bought many soldiers and weapons to defend the city against you and your hoard of Dothraki, and we have been preparing for your dragons as well for some time now, Dragon Queen.” So that was what the machines were for. Defending against dragons.

Dany glanced at one of the contraptions that were mounted on the walls and raised an eyebrow. “Is that what they are for? And you truly think that you can actually hit a flying target with one of those things?”

“The Dornish could.” The slave master piped up with the biggest grin on his face, as the fury of the dragon rose in her belly at his threats to her beloved child.

“When the Dornish scorpion hit Meraxes at Hellholt, it was mostly luck.” Ser Barristan´s voice carried over, as he studied the machines on the walls.

“Yes, but we only need to be lucky once, while the dragon needs to be lucky many times.” He never looked away from Dany when Ser Barristan had spoken, nor did he stop his infernal smirking.

She glanced once again at the thing that they called a scorpion, could this thing really hurt her child? It looked heavy and clumsy, made from wood that had clearly been repurposed from ships, among other things.

Dany refused to let them see the fear for her child on her face, they would never see any weakness from the mother of dragons.

She had lost too much to be stopped now, she had to return to the Seven Kingdoms and take back her birthright that had been stolen from her, and now was being usurped by some pretender thinking that he was worthy of calling himself a dragon.

It was her destiny to rule Westeros, she was the last dragon, the Silver Queen, the mother of dragons and the breaker of chains. Dany had proven herself over and over again that she was strong and a true dragon, a worthy Queen, and she would not let some pretender take her throne away from her.

She was the last hope of house Targaryen and she would see her family restored to its rightful place on the Iron throne.

“If you think that those things will stop us, then you are mistaken.” She handed one of the servants the cup, and the sweet wine had quite frankly done nothing to sooth the ach in her head. “I am Daenerys Stormborn, of house Targaryen, the Khaleesi of the Great grass sea, Queen of the bay of Drogon, the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, breaker of chains and the mother of dragons, and your yellow city will fall like everyone else that have stood in my way.”

The slaver snarled at her. “You will never take Yunkai, beggar Queen.”

“Be careful how you speak to the Queen of the bay of Drogon, slave master.” Daario spoke up, and she watched as the slave master glanced at the sell sword in fear for a moment, as her lover put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

But the fear in the man´s eyes was quick to disappear. “Ah, yes the bay of Drogon.” He turned back to look at Dany with another smirk on his face. “Lovely name, but I have to wonder why you named it after the black dragon and not the other´s as well. Was it because they abandoned you?”

If she hadn´t handed the cup to the servant, she would have thrown it at the man´s face in her rage.  But seeing her anger, only made him smirk even more. “That’s right, they abandoned you.” He looked her up and down, but not in admiration like she was used to, because a look of disgust was now painted on his face. “You are nothing without your dragons, just a little girl trying to live up to her family name and found wanting.”

In all her eighteen years, she had never felt such anger before, she stood up and turned to the Dothraki and shouted in their language. “Blood of my blood, take him away and deal with him.”

As her bloodriders dragged the slaver out of the tent, while the man kicked and screamed at her that she would never take the city, Dany turned to Daario and Ser Barristan. “Prepare the armies, we attack now.”

Her sell sword hurried to do her bidding with his usual grin on his handsome face, but her knight frowned. “Your grace, please. The innocent people don’t have to pay for that man´s deplorable nature.”

She turned her blazing violet eyes on the knight who had sworn to serve her. “I gave them the chance to surrender and be brought to justice for their crimes, but they have thrown my mercy in my face and threatened my child.”

She studied his lined and tired face. “We tried it your way, now we shall do it my way.” He had to see that this sacrifice was necessary. The masters would stubbornly refuse her and the blood of the innocent people within Yunkai´s walls were on their hands, not hers.

Her eyes turned once again to the contraptions that they called scorpions. “Can those things really hurt Drogon?”

The lord commander of her Queensguard turned his head to the wooden monstrosities. “I believe that if they hit the dragon, they could hurt him. Or kill him if they hit his eyes like how Meraxes was hit at Hellholt.”

She could feel fear and worry for her child, but then she could hear the great dragon roar loudly from where he was, still close to the tent, and she could feel strength return to her. “It does not matter, Drogon is Balerion reborn, and not Meraxes and he will not be easily brought down.”

Dany turned to leave, but Ser Barristan called out for her. “Please your grace, there must be another way.”

She stood there for a moment, with her back to her lord commander of the Queensguard. She thought for a moment that it might be for the best to send Ser Barristan back to Meereen, but then she thought better of it.

He had to see that she was in no way lesser than her brother Rhaegar. The way the man spoke of her beloved brother told her how much the old knight had loved the silver prince, and she knew that if the knight could see her take the city on Drogon´s back, he would realize the truth that she was better than her brother, both her brothers in fact.

Dany had been the one to hatch dragons when everyone had said that it was impossible, she had been the one to survive the pyre when Viserys had been killed by molten gold, she had been the one to defeat her enemies when Rhaegar had died on the Trident.

She was better than her brothers, and when she and Drogon took the yellow city, everyone would see it.

“Lord Commander I have made my decision and it is final.”

With that she made her way to where Drogon was eating, and she knew that if she looked back at the knight´s sad eyes, she would have doubts that she couldn’t afford to have.

If she looked back, she was lost.

Chapter Text

DAENERYS

Drogon was eating the horse flesh that the Dothraki had placed on the ground, as she walked purposefully towards her great mount with the anger at the foul slavers still boiling in her gut.

How dare he insinuate that her children had betrayed her?

Rhaegal and Viserion would come back, she knew it as she knew that the sun rose in the East and set in the West.

Her children would return to her and then she could head to the Seven Kingdoms and take back what was hers and burn those who dared to stand in her way, especially the pretender who was claiming to be her nephew.

He would die screaming for this treason of his, and all those who followed him as well.

When she had made her way to Drogon, she placed her small hand on his neck, causing the dragon to stop eating and turn his red eyes on her.

Every muscle in the dragon´s body tense, and she could feel his anger at the masters.

She stopped when she had come to his shoulder and gave him another pat on his scaly hide, and she could feel his muscles were completely stiff and it was like iron under the black scales, instead of meat.

Dany could feel every eye on her as she climbed on the dragons back, and she thought to herself that when Drogon would get bigger, then it would be a hard task to make the climb.

She tried to make herself comfortable, but Drogon kept moving as the Dothraki and the second sons cheered for her.

The black dragon was snarling angerly and she leaned a little forward and petted him on the shoulder to try and ease his nerves, but her efforts bore no fruit as the dragon remained as restless as before, hissing in his anger at the masters.

“Blood of my blood,” She called out in Dothraki and the men fell silent and stared at her with excitement in their eyes. “now is the time to make the masters of Yunkai pay for their treachery.”

Dany could feel the restlessness of her beloved child as he snarled at the men, making sure that they didn’t come too close to them. “We shall tear down their stone houses and cast down those who try and stand in our way.”

As the men cheered for her, she smiled. She wanted to say more to encourage and inspire her bloodriders, but she knew that it was time for her and Drogon to take to the air as he was getting more restless and clearly wanted to bring justice to the slave masters of Yunkai.

The largest of the three dragons she had hatched, spread his massive wings, and vaulted into the air, knocking the breath out of her lungs as they climbed high into the sky with rapid pace.

She held on tight to the large dragon, and she could hear the silver bells chime merrily in her hair, like they were signaling her impending victory.

The last time Dany had taken the city, she had Daario, Greyworm and Jorah infiltrate it, but there was no need for such trickery this time. Now she would show the whole world what happened when someone crossed the Dragon Queen.

Dany and Drogon turned and flew towards the front gate that was guarded by to scorpions, so fast that she could feel her eyes start to water.

They needed to burn away the gate so that her armies could enter the city and for a moment she could feel fear slither in her belly like she had swallowed a dozen snakes.

But as they flew closer, she clung to the words she had told Ser Barristan.

Drogon was Balerion the black dread reborn, and not Meraxes and he would not be so easily brought down.

She watched as the men on the wall closest to her turned those monstrosities towards them with difficulty, like the wooden constructions weighed as much as stone.

Dany watched as the men shot their weapons at them, and for a horrifying moment, she thought that they might hit her or Drogon.

But when they failed to even make it halfway to her, she felt a smirk settle on her face. The masters had clearly overestimated their contraptions.

As they finally came close enough to the gate to burn it down, Daenerys called to her beloved child, the words that would allow her bloodriders to enter the city and take it. “Dracarys.”

With a loud roar, Drogon let out a breath of black fire, engulfing the gate, allowing her armies into the city.

She didn’t stay and breath in her victory over the slavers, rather she ordered Drogon to turn his attention to the other scorpions so that they could destroy them before they could be used to injure her child.

She could see her armies rush into the city like a flood, all screaming and hollering, eager to avenge her. But their battle cries were soon drowned out by Drogon as he roared again before destroying more of the scorpions that might be able to hurt him.

The anger that she felt as she looked at the contraptions that the masters had made to try and stop her, could hardly be contained.

But the masters of Yunkai could try and invent anything they liked, it wouldn’t stop her and Drogon. Drogon was a dragon, and she was a Targaryen, a dragonrider of the blood of Old Valyria and the blood and seed of Aegon the Conqueror.

They flew over the city once again, burning every scorpion they could find as they watched the Dothraki, and the second sons invaded the city, all seemingly wanting to be the first though the gate to avenge her.

A flash of something shiny caught her eye, and as she turned her head, she could see the scorpion on top of the golden pyramid, where the Harpy had once been.

Dany turned her child around and they flew over to the pyramid, where that hated weapon that could hurt her child was waiting for her.

When they had made it to where the scorpion was on top of the pyramid, she watched as Drogon burnt it away with satisfaction in her heart at seeing it turn to ash.

But when Drogon was done burning it, she noticed that there had been no men manning the weapon.

She frowned and looked around the roof top, but there were no bones or any remnants of soldiers there.

There truly was no one there to man the scorpion, and it looked like there had never been anyone here. The masters had probably thought that the weapons at the gates could have stopped her and Drogon, but they had been very wrong.

A smile made its way on to her face as she thought about how wrong the masters had been in trusting their weapons to work against her and Drogon.

But her smile fell of her face when a loud whistling sound broke through the screaming and yelling in the city, but the sound was brought to an abrupt halt by the loudest and shrillest shrieking roar of Drogon that she had ever heard before.

The sound cut at her heart like a hot knife. She had only heard her beloved Drogon make that sound once before and that had been when he had gotten injured in the fighting pits of Meereen, when he had tried to safe her from the sons of the Harpy.

Her fingers pained her greatly as she clung to the dragon for dear life, as Drogon flailed around in the air as he screamed in pain.

Not even when she had angered her brother, had she ever felt such fear as she did now.

As Drogon shrieked in pain and seemed to climb higher to escape from whatever had hurt him, she could feel the ground pull at her when Drogon twisted in the air above the yellow city.

Through the pained roars of her child, she could hear shouts bellow her. Dany turned her head to see what was happening.

Just below her, on one of the balconies of the highest floor, hiding in the brightness of the reflecting sunlight, men were in a hurry to try and reload a small scorpion that had been made with much better wood than the ones that had been on the walls around the gate.

As Drogon screamed with pain and fury, her resolve strengthened and with every ounce of strength that was in her, she turned her child to the men on the balcony as they tried desperately to reload that infernal weapon of theirs.

Their screams of pain were not enough to quell the fury that seemed to tear at her insides. When the men had been burnt by Drogon, they flew around the pyramid to make sure that there weren’t any other scorpions hiding and waiting for them.

When she had assured herself that her child was in no immediate danger, she flew him to the top of the pyramid, and made him land there.

Drogon gave another shriek of pain as he landed on top of the pyramid, and she hurriedly made her way to see where he had been hit.

Her feet hit the ground with a soft thump, and it wasn’t until then Dany realized how terrified she had been when she had been clinging onto Drogon´s back for dear life, fearing that she would fall to her death.

She made her way to where her child had been hit, and sure enough there was a gash on his thigh that was weeping black blood that sizzled as it hit the top of the pyramid.

The wound wasn’t deep, but it clearly pained the great black dragon, who was now snarling in his anger.

When she had assured herself that he wasn’t that hurt, she felt a sob try and break free from her throat and tears welled in her eyes.

It was terrifying how close they had come to death and she could feel her hands and knees shake from both the fear and the effort it had took to stay on Drogon´s back when he had been hit by the master´s cruel inventions.

Dany took a deep breath to calm herself and suppress the sobs that tried escape her, she could not afford for anyone to see her as anything but strong. Everyone needed to see her as the Queen she was, as the Conqueror she was.

She slowly made her way to Drogon´s shoulder and placed her hand against him to stable herself again.

As she tried to stop herself from sobbing, her violet eyes found the scars on Drogon´s neck and shoulder after the sons of the Harpy had attacked him in the fighting pit of Meereen.

Dany traced the outline of one of the scars on his neck as the fury rose again in her, burning even hotter than before.

She remembered telling Hizdar that same day that if she felt the need to, she could and would return the slave cities to the dirt.

Violet eyes stared at the scar on her beloved child, and his scream of pain was still echoing in her ears as the anger in her body rose to even greater heights.

The masters had tried to kill her, and her child and they would have to pay for that. The anger she was feeling made her see red and as Drogon hissed in his anger she started to climb back onto his back.

She knew what she needed to do. Dany had to prove that she was strong and what happened to those who tried to hurt her or her beloved Drogon.

BARRISTAN

He forced his feet to move forward, as he narrowly avoided to step into a particularly deep puddle of blood and ash that had gathered in the street that had only hours before been yellow.

The streets were littered with dead bodies, and the knight could smell their cooked flesh through the heavy cloud of ash and smoke.

He tried to suppress a cough but was unsuccessful and narrowly avoided tripping over a corpse of a woman holding a child in her arms.

As he made his way forward the black dragon flew low overhead again with a loud roar, Barristan ducked instinctively to the side and against a stone wall to try and get himself out of harm’s way in case the dragon started to let out torrents of flames again.

He felt pain shot up his shoulder from the force he had slammed himself against the stone wall even though he was wearing full metal plate armor, and not for the first time since he had put it on, did he dearly wish that he could take it off.

He had thought that the harsh sun had been bad, but it was nothing compared to the heat of the dragon flame that was engulfing the city, and he could feel the sweat run down his back as he tried to make his way around.

Barristan tried to calm his breathing but every time he took a deep breath, it was like his throat and lungs were being filled with small shards of glass and his nose was being filled with soot and ash of the dragon flames that were destroying almost everything in their path.

He watched, numbly as a woman ran past him, screaming in fear as a Dothraki bloodrider cased after her, with an arakh raised high in the air.

As he was pushing himself of the wall to try and help her, the Dothraki warrior he cut her head of her shoulders with a laugh and rode into the fog of ash and smoke and out of his sight.

He slumped against the wall as he stared at the headless body of the woman, and as the blood rushed out of her body the head stared silently after her killer with unseeing eyes.

Barristan wanted to look away from the woman´s body and stare at anything else, but he forced himself not to.

He should have worked harder to convince Queen Daenerys not to attack the city. He should have tried harder to convince her that by attacking, she was endangering the very people she was trying to help.

Barristan had seen enough of wars and battles to know that when the high lords fought, it was the small folk that suffered the most.

He gripped the longsword in his hand tighter and pushed himself of the stone wall as he heard another roar from the large dragon that was flying overhead.

Following the roar, the sounds of the dragon breathing flame could be heard throughout Yunkai.

Even more screams of terror could be heard as the dragon and the Queen set more fires around the city, and he felt himself being urged on, to move but to where he did not know.

He really didn’t know what to do, or where he should go.

The Queen had placed Daario Naharis in charge of commanding her armies, even though it should have fallen to Ser Barristan as her lord commander of her Queensguard to command her soldiers when she could not.

But he knew that it was for the best that Daario Naharis was commanding the Dothraki, as the man spoke Dothraki while Barristan did not. But the man should have given better orders to Barristan than take the city.

It was so strange to the knight that the sellsword would give such vague commands, when Barristan knew that the man was a capable commander.

The captain of the second sons had to know that even that the Dothraki had taken Meereen back when they had been fighting against the sons of the Harpy and the fleet of Yunkai and Astapor with relative ease, they had the advantage of surprise, and if proper discipline had been enforced with the Dothraki then they could have avoided a lot of casualties.

As they had been mounting up to attack the city, the sellsword had not bothered to order the Dothraki to make any formations, nor had he divided them into companies and ordered them to take parts of the city.

As he slowly made his way through the city, not sure where to go when his head whipped to the side when he could hear another roar, not far off.

He watched, his heart filled with horror as he watched through the fog of ash as the black dragon´s shadow flew low over the city, letting out torrents of black fires straight across buildings and streets.

Even though he was seeing it, he was still having such a hard time grasping the reality that the young woman he had met in Astapor was now riding her black dragon and burning a city to the ground.

He took another deep breath, only to start coughing at the ash that filled his throat. The knight grabbed his white cloak of the Queensguard and tore a small piece of it and held it to his mouth, as he wished that he had a flagon of water with him.

Barristan glanced up at the golden pyramid of Qaggaz where he could spot it shining faintly through the cloud of ash and he made up his mind, he would head there.

The knight knew without a doubt that the Queen would go there when everything was over and done with.

Dread filled him at the thought of having to look at the woman who was now doing her very best to destroy the very city that so many of the people she was claiming to be helping trapped in it.

When they had met in Astapor he had thought that she was just like her brother Rhaegar and that the Targaryen madness had not left the taint in her like it had in her father and her brother, Viserys.

He finally slowed to a halt when he entered what was a small market, and he felt horror shiver up his spine.

The bloodriders of Queen Daenerys had flooded the small market, and they were already entering homes and dragging people out of them, even though the dragon was flying above the city.

There was always murder and rape when cities were sacked, but he had hoped that when Queen Daenerys would have been someone who would have been ready to try and put an end to that.

Bodies littered the ground, as ash and dust settled in the blood that was already flowing over the paved stone, and a sellsword of the second sons rode across the marketplace with a severed head on a pike, his laughter echoing of the stone walls of the building around them, as he disappeared down one of the streets.

The sound of the dragon roaring and breathing fire close by couldn’t even pull him out of the trance he had found himself in, as he watched the men mindlessly murder and rape.

But when a bloodrider was dragging a young girl out of one of the buildings by her hair, he sprang to action grasping his longsword tightly in his hand.

Barristan ran to the bloodrider and he could feel righteous fury that he hadn´t felt in years rise in him. As the Dothraki warrior threw the girl to the blood covered ground and made himself likely to ravage her, Barristan swung his sword at the man, cutting off the man´s arm.

The bloodrider screamed in pain and surprise as the blood squirted out of the stump in time with his heartbeat, as he dropped his arakh to try and stop the bleeding.

The Dothraki warriors near them all turned to them, ready to kill the man who had attacked one of their own, but when they saw that it was him, the lord commander of the Queensguard, they lowered their swords.

One of the men then let out a laugh and said something in Dothraki, causing the others to laugh as well. Then the men went back to raping and pillaging as they had been doing.

The young girl was still laying on the ground, staring up at him with terrified eyes open wide, fearing that her life would end at his hands now.

His mongrel Ghiscari wasn´t as good as Missandei´s, but it was good enough for him to try and convince the girl that he meant her no harm. “Miss I am not trying to hurt you.” The words twisted on his tongue and he could see the girl frown at him, having to put effort into understanding him.

Despite his efforts of trying to reassure her, the girl was still understandably afraid. He reached out his unarmed hand for her, wanting to help her to her feet and do his duty as a knight to protect her.

The girl glanced at the bloodrider who had dragged her out of the house, who was still screaming in pain on the ground, clutching his stump to his chest as he slowly bleed out.

The sight of the Dothraki man who had been intent on raping her on the ground seemed to assure her that she would be safer with him. With a shacking hand that had scrapes on it after having been forced to catch herself when she fell on the stone, she grabbed his and he pulled her to her feet.

She stared at him with tearful eyes. “My mother, they took my mother.”

Barristan held tight onto the girl and looked around the market area. As the Dothraki raped and pillaged, an idea struck him. “Queen Daenerys forbade raping and reaving.” His voice echoed of stone walls and streets and a few of the Dothraki looked at him.

But most of the men either didn’t hear him or ignored him.

But one of the men, a young one spoke to Barristan in a heavy accented common tongue. “We are Dothraki, this is our way.”

While the words were simple and the accent was so heavy that it was hard to understand them, the manner in which they had been spoken left no room for interpretation for their meaning.

The Dothraki wouldn’t be changing their culture over night because the Queen asked it of them.

The girl clung to his arm and he could hear the quiet sobbing from her as she tried to fold in on herself as an attempt to hide herself from the bloodriders.

“The Queen has commanded it.” Barristan repeated, feeling anger and disgust in his gut at the man before him. “Are you willing to go against her?”

As he spoke, the Queen and Drogon made a pass not far from them, and he could hear the screams of the inhabitants drown in the roar of the black dragon.

The young Dothraki man seemed a little less sure of himself now, as he watched at the dragon and the Queen passed them, burning everything in their path. “We are fighting for the Khalessi, we are her bloodriders and we are owned this.”

“These are innocent people; you have no right to hurt them.” Barristan growled out holding the sword in such a tight grip that his hand was hurting.

“They are the Khalessi´s enemies.” The young man growled out in anger and readied his arakh and walked forward, and Barristan could see that the man was intending to attack him.

The girl clung tighter to his arm and let out a cry of fear as the young man stalked towards them, but as soon as he came in reaching distance to them, Barristan had already moved.

His longsword had better reach than the man´s curved one, and the young man had not been expecting a man of Barristan´s age to move so fast.

The young bloodrider dropped his arakh as his hands moved to grasp at his throat to try and stop the bleeding.

As the young bloodrider fell to his knees, the other men who had been reaving looked at him, and Barristan could see that despite themselves they had been impressed with him dispatching of their fellow bloodrider in such a speedy manner.

But that wasn’t enough for them to stop their rape and murder. However, it was enough for them to decide to attack him.

The knight pushed the girl behind him and moved forward.

He was quick in displacing of the first man that approached him, and as the men rushed him to try and overwhelm him, he fell into a familiar dance.

While the Dothraki were good warriors, they were not knights, and did not have the swords that would have been better to use against someone that was wearing full metal plate armor.

The curved swords could not penetrate the plate, but it was easy for him to cut and slash through their leather armor without any difficulty.

When the last of the Dothraki fell to the ground, breathing his last, he let out a breath and looked around the marketplace.

The people who the Dothraki had been terrorizing where now staring at him with awe and wonder in their eyes. The girl he had saved, ran with tears streaming down her face towards an older woman, who was kneeling on the ground and a thorn dress and with a brushed face.

As he watched the two women hug and the people stare at him, he was transported back in time and it was like he was back in the last battle in the War of the Five Penny Kings, after he had killed Maelys the Monstrous.

Barristan felt like a young man once again, more like the knight he had always strived to be all his life.

But that feeling was short lived, as a thunder and a roar close by could be heard, then the marketplace was bathed in flames.

On instinct, he turned and dived away from the overwhelming heat that washed over the marketplace.

He managed to scurry over to the stone wall that was furthest away from the blazing inferno and tear his white cloak that had been caught by the flames, off his shoulders.

He looked back and he could see the black flames were rising across the marketplace, and he could feel a sense of hopelessness settle over him.

Chapter Text

JON CONNINGTON

Aegon was stalking up and down the large war room, and Jon was sure that he could see his violet eyes burning with anger.

“We should be making our way to King´s Landing by now.” Aegon growled out, and it was easy to see that the dragon was awake and roaring.

“Your grace.” The fat Harry Strickland tried to calm the King down. “We are locked in by the Stormlanders, and it will be an easier march to the capital if they are on our side.”

Aegon snorted angerly. “They should have already thrown their strength to ours; I shall remember this when I take my throne.”

“Your grace,” Lord Tyrell piped up with his nervous grin playing on his lips as he tried to win Aegon´s favor. “the Reach shall come to your aid, I have already sent another letter to my boy, and told him of your need for our swords, and I am sure that he will send reinforcement as soon as it is possible.”

The man was almost shaking his chair apart in his excitement of pleasing the King, and Jon was grateful that Aegon didn’t say something in his anger that would offend the lord of Highgarden.

“I am sure that your son will do everything in his power to make sure that the rightful King will take back what rightfully belongs to him.” Jon said trying to assure the lord before him that his help was appreciated.

“Your grace, perhaps we can offer the lords of the Stormlands husbands for their daughters?” Harry Strickland suggested, and Jon could see a glint of cunning in the fat man´s eyes.

The man probably wanted to marry his faithful men to the many heiresses that stood to inherit castles around the seven kingdoms, as there would be many girls standing to inherit lands after the war of the five Kings as so many sons had died in the fighting.

Jon glanced at the lord of Highgarden, and he could see that the man looked as uncomfortable as he was feeling right now.

No lord in the seven Kingdoms would want an officer of the Golden Company to marry their daughters and then be in line to inherit their castles and lands. Especially not the Stormlords who were as proud as they were quarrelsome.

“Humm, that could work. It would tie the lords of the Stormlands to me.” Aegon pondered and stopped his stalking around the war room.

“It would be even better to tie Shireen Baratheon to you, your grace.” Harry suggested with a barely contained smile on his face. “Perhaps I could marry the-.”

Before he could even suggest that he should marry Stannis Baratheon´s daughter and the last unquestioned Baratheon heir, lord Mace Tyrell interrupted him. “The lords of the Stormlands will never follow a sellsword, even if you marry the last true Baratheon, the girl will need to marry a lord of the realm, perhaps my boy Willas.”

Harry looked sour when the lord of Highgarden interrupted him. “Isn´t your son Willas inheriting Highgarden? Isn’t ruling two Kingdoms too much for a man that was crippled in a tourney?”

Mace Tyrell turned as purple as a ripe grape at the man´s words. “Willas can rule the Stormlands, and my other son, Garlan can rule the Reach as lord of Highgarden.”

“Wouldn’t it be best if King Aegon just married the girl?” Lorimas Mudd said as he scratched one of his many facial scars.

“But King Aegon has already married my Margaery.” Lord Mace looked horrified that the man could even suggest something like Aegon taking another wife.

Aegon seemed to bristle at his words. “My ancestors have been marrying more than one woman for centuries, why can´t I?” It was no secret that the King despised his wife and the fact that he had been forced to marry her for her father´s armies, that were now heading to Oldtown, and most likely wouldn’t arrive to help them take the capital for weeks, if not months.

Lord Tyrell spluttered and tried to say anything that would make Aegon change him mind about taking another wife.

“We shouldn’t be planning to marry off the girl, if we don’t even know if she is alive or not.” Jon spoke hesitantly as he tried to calm everyone down.

Aegon glanced at him, then the young boy nodded. “Yes, you are right Jon, and even if she is alive, I wouldn’t marry her. Everyone says that her face is deformed with greyscale scars.”

There was disgust on his face as he said that, and the men sitting around the table all laughed, everyone but Jon and lord Mace.

Jon had to fight the urge to close his eyes in expiration at Aegon´s rashness at his words. They didn’t want to do anything to make lord Mace reconsider their alliance, even though the man couldn’t leave for the Reach until they would allow him to do so.

“But we shall have to find someone to marry her,” Aegon said, looking thoughtful. “Someone who can hold the Stormlands and keep the Stormlords in check.”

Jon looked at Ser Harry, and he could see the man look hopeful and a greedy glint was looking more prominent in his eyes.

“Your grace.” The lord of Griffin´s Roost spoke up again, repeating his words from before. “We should not be planning to marry the girl off as of yet, we don’t even know if she is alive. Lady Shireen could very well have been killed along with her father and that will throw the Stormlands into chaos as there will be no clear heir to Strom´s End.”

“It was foolish of Stannis to take his daughter to the Wall,” Lorimas stated. “he should have left her at Dragonstone with a strong guard around her.”

Most of the men nodded their agreement with him, but Jon did not.

If Stannis had left the girl on Dragonstone, then the girl would have fallen into the hands of Aegon´s wayward brother, when Ser Davos Seaworth had taken the island, giving the boy a hold on the Stormlords.

It would be preferable for them for the girl to be dead rather than in the hands of Jon Targaryen.

That boy gave him more sleepless nights than anything else. Ever since Varys had disappeared into thin air, they had heard no news about the boy, and they had no idea where he was.

Had he taken Winterfell from the Boltons? Did he now rule the North? Had he been killed? Had his dragons been killed? Or had they been taken by the Boltons and now they had command of fire breathing dragons?

A part of Jon hoped that his namesake had been killed in the fighting, it would be much easier for them as he was the only one that really worried him.

Tommen was only a child, and Cersei was a woman, and it would be easy for them to take the city from them, and Daenerys Targaryen was a world away, and would arrive long after they had taken the iron throne, and their inheritance issue would be solved with a marriage.

But the way Varys had spoken about the second son of Rhaegar made Jon nervous. He had spoken of a man who had lead armies and fought Wildlings.

And for all his good breeding and noble blood, Aegon had not fought in a war, which would not endear the lords of Westeros to him, especially not the Stormlords.

But there was a part of him that longed to see his namesake, to see if he was anything like Rhaegar, and maybe convince him to give up his pursuit of the Iron throne and bend the knee to Aegon.

“But what news about the pretender?” Aegon asked and begun to stalk the room once more.

Marq Mandrake cleared his throat before speaking, but it was clear that he didn’t speak willingly and would rather have kept his silence. “We haven’t heard any news from the North since Varys left us, and the only rumors that we have heard are that he, along with Sansa Stark have gathered an army to take back Winterfell, and the North.”

Not for the first time, Jon wished that they had a lord of the realm declared for Aegon that had spy networks at his fingertips, but they only had the bumbling fool Mace Tyrell and his two youngest children here with them at Strom´s End.

They desperately needed Varys to come back and tell them news of the Seven kingdoms so that they could take the capital and the Iron throne for Rhaegar´s older son, before the Stark girl´s boy came from the North to take Aegon´s throne from him.

Jon was pulled from his thoughts by Aegon grinding his teeth together in his anger at the fact that they didn’t know what was happening.

“That usurping bastard is taking the North while I just sit here at Storm´s End.” Aegon´s violet eyes flashed in his anger. The young man looked like he was going to continue his tirade, but he was interrupted by a soft, hesitant knock on the door.

Jon hurriedly called for the person knocking to enter to distract Aegon from his Northern half-brother, who was likely making his way south soon.

A guard opened the door. “Your grace, my lords, one of the messengers to the Stormlords has returned, should I send him in?”

“Of course, man, send him in.” Called Harry, who seemed to want to distract the young King from his wayward brother as well.

In walked a young man, dirty and worn from the road and bowed lowly before speaking. “My lords, your grace, I have come from Bronzegate.”

“Well, what did lord Buckler say man?” Harry spoke loudly, staring at the man before him.

“I never got to meet lord Buckler. I waited outside of his closed gates for weeks and was never allowed entrance to the castle.” The young man explained nervously.

“What?” Aegon growled out angerly. “Are you telling me that you wasted weeks outside his walls? Did lord Buckler never open his gates and allow in supplies?”

The young messenger swallowed hard with his eyes open in terror of having angered the King. “He did allow supplies to enter the castle, your grace. But every time they opened the gates and I tried to tell them that I was a messenger of your grace, they turned me away.”

“You showed the guards the seal of his grace, did you not?” Harry asked calmly, but there was an undercurrent of emotion that Jon couldn’t identify.

“Yes, I did, my lord. But the man ignored it and told me to go back to where I came.”

 “I gave instructions that you and the other messengers were not to return until the lords of the Stormlands had sworn themselves to my cause.” Aegon growled in his anger as he stared at the man before him with his furious violet eyes.

“You did your grace.” Marq Mandrake nodded and sent the messenger a look that promised retribution.

“Wait, Marq.” Harry spoke and waved him off. “I would like to hear his reasoning of why he came back, despite having orders to the contrary.”

The young messenger looked deadly pale and in fear for his life. “Outside the walls of the castle I heard news from the North.”

This was sure to help the young man avoid punishment for his disobedience and going against orders, as everyone had been hungering to know what was happening with Aegon´s half-brother. “And? What did you hear?” Marq Mandrake demanded.

Aegon stood there, pale, and angry as he clenched his fists as he waited for the messenger to speak. “I heard from the people around the castle that Jon Targa-.”

“HE IS NOT A TARGARYEN.” Aegon screamed at the messenger, turning red. “HE IS JUST A BASTARD AND HE IS NOT OF THE BLOOD OF THE DRAGON.”

Silence followed his words, and it seemed that no one knew what to say and the young messenger looked afraid for his life. “Please continue.” Jon asked the man after a few moments, wanting to move on from this incidence.

He would have to have a word with Aegon about this. The men couldn’t see him lose his temper like this, they needed to see him as a calm presence, like Rhaegar had been, and not the barrel of wildfire that Aerys had become with time.

The messenger nodded. “I heard from the people around the castle that Jon Ta… Snow, has taken Winterfell from the Boltons with his cousi… lady Sansa Stark, and he has rescued lord Rickon Stark from the bastard of Bolton.”

Jon closed his eyes with horror at the man´s words, he had hoped that Jon Targaryen would not have been able to take the castle of the Starks, it would have been much easier if the boy had died.

Then Aegon´s claim would be uncontested, and it would be easier to take the young dragons if the boy refused to give them up.

It was almost like Rhaegar was standing behind him, sending him a disappointed gaze as he thought it would be easier if his younger son were dead.

But he shook the feeling of, Rhaegar would want Aegon on the throne, and Jon couldn’t imagine that the silver prince would be happy with his younger son, now that he was proving to be just like his mother.

Jon glanced at Aegon, who was turning even redder in the face than before. If Aegon had dragons under his command, then no one could claim that he was anything but what he said, and everyone would see the truth.

But it would have been better if he had managed to get one of the dragons that his aunt Daenerys Targaryen had hatched, as they had to be much bigger than the ones the Stark girl´s boy had hatched.

Jon had even heard that one of them shared the color of Balerion the black dread, and Aegon riding him would have been a political gold mine. The black dragon was also said to be the biggest of the three and the strongest, a fitting mount for Rhaegar´s son, who had been named after the Conqueror himself. 

But since Rhaegar´s sister was choosing to stay in Slaver´s bay for now, Aegon would be forced to make do with the smaller dragons.

Lorimas cursed darkly before he spoke. “I had hoped that he would have died in the battle.”

“Did you hear anything more?” Jon decided to ask before anyone could say anything else, but he felt something like a stone drop in his belly when he noticed the growing fear in the man´s eyes.

“Yes, my lord hand.” The man seemed to try summoning the courage he needed to say whatever he had heard; Jon could feel his nervousness grow. “He has also taken his cousin, lady Sansa Stark as his bride and…” The messenger´s eyes darted around the room before he spoke again. “And he called two large dragons to him from beyond the Narrow Sea.”

“…What?” Ser Harry asked calmly in a dead pan voice as everyone just stared at the young man before them.

“Jon Targar…Snow has called two dragons to him from beyond the Narrow Sea.”

“These are lies.” Marq Mandrake said hurriedly when what he had heard had seeped into his mind. “This cannot be true.”

“I am telling you the truth, my lord.” The messengers insisted. “I would never lie to his grace.”

“He is not saying that you are lying.” Ser Harry tried to assure him. “Maybe what you heard is a lie or the men of the North are just trying to inflate the sizes of the dragons to scare us.”

“Even if they are only inflating the sizes of the hatchlings,” Jon shook his head and lacing his fingers together to stop them from shacking. “the lords of the realm will flock to him if they think that he has large dragons under his command.”

The boy couldn’t have called dragons to him from beyond the sea, it was just impossible.

Jon turned to the messenger and he felt a desire to send him out of the room, just in case of the man had anything else catastrophic to say, but he refused to allow himself to give into the desire and asked the man if he had heard anything else, hoping that he would say no and leave.

“I heard that he rose from the grave and that was how he hatched the dragons and then he sent them to burn those who had killed him in vengeance for his murder.”

Jon stared at him for a moment before sighing and sending the man out of the room. He should have gotten Mandrake to send more educated men to have deliver the messages. At least then it would have been easier for them to separate the truth from the rumors of the smallfolk, that seemed to think that every lizard they came across was a dragon and every man that lost consciousness was rising from the dead.

“What do we do?” Asked Lorimas glancing at everyone in the room. “The other dragons must still be small and unrideable, but this changes everything.”

Jon turned his eyes to where lord Tyrell was sitting having turned white as snow, this had to be contained and controlled.

“It changes nothing, these are just rumors.” The lord of Griffin´s Roost declared for them all to hear and looked at the King of the Seven Kingdoms who was staring angerly at where the messenger had stood. “These are just rumors of the smallfolk that are telling to amuse themselves, everyone who has read anything about dragons and their behavior knows that they cannot be summoned like this.”

“Enough of this.” Aegon pulled himself out of his staring at the spot where the messenger had stood. “The pretender has taken the North while I sit here, waiting for the Reach lords to make good on their promises.”

The King sent a furious look at where the lord of Highgarden was sitting, looking like he wanted to disappear into the floor. “Well, no more.”

“Ser Harry, ready the men, we shall march up the King´s road with all of our strength and take the capital before the bastard can even leave the North.”

JAIME

He rubbed his brows in exhaustion as the lords bickered around him, all having differing ideas about how to approach their predicament, but after hours they had still not come to any conclusions.

Jaime could feel the urge to start to tear at his hair in frustration at the men in the room behaving in such manner, but he managed to restrain himself.

He glanced at his aunt, who was staring angerly into the crowd of lords, and he could almost hear her scold them in her mind. “Enough.” Jaime called, winching at how tired he sounded even to himself. “We wouldn’t get anywhere if we are fight amongst ourselves.”

While Genna was looked mildly pleased with his words, her husband clearly wasn’t sharing the sentiment. “But nephew, we know that this Jon Targaryen has taken the Twins, and most likely killed my family for only defending themselves from Robb Stark and his unwashed savages.”

Jaime wanted to punch his aunt´s husband for not only for calling him nephew, which was annoying in and of itself, but for trying to convince everyone of this ridiculous lie that the Freys had been defending themselves when they had attacked Robb Stark and his Northerners.

Not a soul in the Seven Kingdoms believed that, but for some reason the Freys had been insisting that they had been defending themselves after Tywin´s death.

Probably because they couldn’t hide under his shadow anymore, and now they had to answer to the new Targaryen King.

Jaime looked at the faces in the great hall of Riverrun and he could see that not one of his lords looked ready to agree with Emmon Frey.

“We have to try and negotiate with him,” Jaime gritted out, holding his anger at the man back as he tried to speak calmly.

“Why can’t we fight?” A voice could be heard booming though out the hall, making everyone turn to look.

Lord Roland Crakehall was now standing up, using his large frame to intimidate the lords around him. “This Jon Targaryen is just a boy, and his dragons cannot be large enough to ride as he has only just hatched them, if he truly has dragons at all.”

“He has dragons,” Lord Banefort shook his head at the larger man. “everyone has been talking about how he called two dragons from the east and that he rides the bigger one.”

Crakehall scoffed at the man. “Lies,” He announced to everyone in the hall. “he likely had a few snakes around his shoulders, and the Freys shit their breeches and thought that Balerion the black dread has been reborn.”

While his words caused the men in the hall to laugh, Jaime was once again forced to restraining himself from tearing his hair out.  “My lords, while Jon Targaryen having called large dragons from the East is unbelievable at best, we should try and prepare for any situation.”

He really didn’t believe that Rhaegar´s son had gotten large dragons from beyond the Narrow Sea, most likely the people around the Twins when they had been taken, had seen the small dragons that he had hatched, and now their sizes were being exaggerated with every retelling.

“I really think we should try to negotiate with this, Jon Targaryen if it is possible.” Lord Tytos Brax spoke up as he sat beside his younger brother and heir, Ser Flement. “Dragons or no, he still has the knights of the Vale on his side, and the Riverlords will rally to him at the first opportunity.”

Jaime glanced at where lord Westerling was sitting. The lord of the Crag was looking worn and terrified, and he seemed to be aging more rapidly after he had heard about Robb Stark´s cousin being crowned King and that he had dragons under his command. Even if they had to be only hatchlings with skulls the size of a cat´s.

He couldn’t blame him for being afraid, not after hearing that Sybell Westerling had forced her daughter, Robb Stark´s widow to drink moon tea so that it wasn’t possible for her to have the King in the North´s child.

Jaime did not think that if Jon Targaryen ever find out what lady Westerling had done, that he would be pleased by it.

“We cannot hope to match them in battle.” Lord Banefort said slowly. “Our army is too depleted after the war of the five Kings, and it has been almost impossible for us to get supplies for them.”

The lord of the Banefort had the right of it, getting supplies from the war torn Riverlands was hard, and the fact that the smallfolk hadn´t been working the fields because they had been either killed or fled.

An army without supplies was easy to defeat.

They had been getting supplies from the west, but the road was long and dangerous, and it would have been a lot better to be able to get the food and clothing they needed from the Riverlands.

They had tried to get the farmers that they had conscripted into the Lannister army to start growing crops, but the makeshift farms were constantly raided by bandit’s native to the Riverlands, so Jaime had been forced to send men to guard the farms, but the natives knew the lands much better than the soldiers ever could, and many of them were able to evade the Lannister guards without a trace.

“We have to negotiate.” Genna spoke firmly, leaving no room for arguments, but true to form lord Crakehall would not let that dissuade him from arguing.

“Lady Genna,” He sent her a condescending smile. “I know that war may seem frightening to a woman of your gentle birth, but I can assure you that men of the West will fight more ferociously than anyone else.”

Jaime could feel the irritation of his aunt at the man´s words, and he felt himself share that mood. His aunt was the smartest and fiercest woman that he had ever encountered and only a fool would discount her words because of her gender.

He had once foolishly thought that Cersei had been like their aunt, but now after seeing how she had found him revolting after losing his hand, and how she had burnt the Sept of Baelor to the ground in Wildfire, he knew that Cersei was the furthest thing from the wise Genna Lannister.

“Lord Crakehall,” Jaime spoke, keeping his voice measured and calm. “I don’t suppose you are the one who wants to make the first charge at a fire breathing dragon?”

The man looked ready to respond, but Jaime would have none of it. “I don’t suppose that you are ready to recreate the field of fire, with Jon Targaryen playing Aegon the Conqueror and you the Gardener King?”

He didn’t believe that Rhaegar´s son had dragons large enough to recreate the field of fire, but this served to get his point across to the stubborn man before him.

The frustration kept rising in him at lord Crakehall´s insistence that they could fight a war against the new Targaryen King, who had the backing of the North, and the knights of the Vale behind him.

“He may or may not have dragons,” Jaime said, feeling silly talking about dragons who everyone had thought been gone from the world, never to return.

But here he was, having to take the threat of dragons seriously. Jaime was sure that his father was turning in his grave. “But our army is exhausted, and our supplies are running low, and we cannot fight a war and win as matters stand now.”

Jaime remembered before they had taken Riverrun, he had thought that lord Crakehall would have made a good hand of the King, but now he regretted ever having that thought in his head.

The man seemed to take great delight in trying to go against everything that Jaime wanted to do, and he was eager to ride to war against Jon Targaryen, thinking that the valor of the Westermen would be enough to carry the day.

Before losing his hand, Jaime would have shared those sentiments and most likely would have tried to offer the young son of Rhaegar Targaryen the same bargain as he had Robb Stark, to settle the war in single combat.

He glanced at the gold covered steel hand and he felt the loss of his sword hand sting bitterly at him. As he looked at the gold covered hand, he could see that the gold covering the steel underneath was starting to flake and fall of the hand.

“Perhaps my lord,” Lord Banefort piped up, looking a little smug at lord Crakehall being silenced. “we should build scorpions, just in case the boy does have larger dragons.”

Jaime could see the wisdom in doing that. “Do our men have all the supplies they need to build the scorpions?”

“We have enough wood, but everything else is a lot harder to get, but we might be able to build one or even two.”

“My lords,” Genna interrupted. “I agree that we should build scorpions if we can, just in case the negotiations break down, but we should put most of our efforts into the negotiations and try and come to terms with him.”

Lord Crakehall didn’t look like he agreed with Genna. “I find it difficult to believe that the Targaryen boy managed to call two large dragons from beyond the Narrow Sea, I have never heard of dragons doing that.” The man crossed his arms, and he looked every bit like a sullen child.

But Jaime was forced to agree with the man, he had never heard Tyrion, who loved nothing more than to read anything he could about dragons, talk about how any of the Targaryen dragons riders of old calling dragons to them in their hour of need.

Not for the first time did Jaime wish that Tyrion was here with him, so that he could tell him everything he knew about dragons.

But thinking about his brother hurt, and he could feel both fury and grief at the same time.

Jaime pushed his thoughts deep into his mind as he forced himself to be in the present.

“We could retreat,” Lord Farman spoke up, having been silent for most of the meeting. “we could return to the West and have the advantage of fighting in our homeland.”

“And will you be the one to take responsibility when the West burns in dragon fire?” Lord Brax spat at the lord of Fair Isle.

Lord Farman´s face contorted in anger. “The boy didn’t burn Barrowton or so I hear, and lady Dustin declared for the Bastard of Bolton, so why would he burn the West?”

“Perhaps he wants to punish us for lord Tywin having conspired with lord Bolton and Old Walder for having murdered the young wolf at a wedding?” Lord Baneford asked in a tone that wouldn´t have been out of place coming from Tyrion´s mouth.

“It was Robb Stark who attacked us.” Emmon cried out, his voice shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“How in the seven hells do you know that?” Lord Crakehall turned to face the weasel like man. “You weren’t there, you were hiding behind lord Tywin.”

“My father-.”

“Be quiet Emmon.” Genna Lannister interrupted her husband, staring him down as the man seemed to shrink in size. “No one believes that your father didn’t attack the young wolf first, so stop touting that nonsense.”

The woman who had raised him and been a mother to him turned her angry green eyes toward lord Farman. “If you think that Jon Targaryen will just ignore the West and be content to reside in the capital after he has taken it, then you are of more use to us as a fool, lord Farman.”

As Genna started to talk about how the only way for them to come out of this predicament alive was to negotiate, a servant tapped on his shoulder. “My lord, there is a messenger here to talk to you.”

“A messenger from whom?” Jaime asked the man with a frown.

“King Jon Targaryen.”

Jaime could only stare at the man in surprise, and he could feel his heartbeat faster than before, as both excitement and dread flooded his veins. “Send him in.”

As the servant rushed out the door to fetch the messenger, Jaime interrupted the conversations around him. “My lords, Jon Targaryen has sent a messenger to us that will be arriving shortly.”

His words caused a murmur to break about around the hall, and many of the lords, especially lord Westering seemed afraid.

He felt like an eternity had passed when the doors to the hall were opened and in walked a tall man with dark hair, clad in black leather armor of the North, with the three headed dragon of house Targaryen on his breast.

“My lords,” He gave them a bow and the man seemed to make an effort to keep his face impassive and as emotionless as possible as his stormlander accent rang though out the hall. “my lady, I have come on the behalf of King Jon of houses Targaryen and Stark.”

“Have you come to offer us terms?” Genna asked apprehensively.

“No, my lady. His grace asked me to come here to offer you to sit down and negotiate with him, as he has an offer the lords of the West that will hopefully work in everyone´s interest.”

Jaime stared at the man before him with a frown on his face. Why did Rhaegar´s son want to negotiate with them if he had six dragons on his side and the knights of the Vale?

If everything he had heard about the boy was true, then he had an overwhelming advantage and would be able defeat them even without large dragons, as the knights of the Vale were one best armies in Westeros, and they were fresh as they hadn´t taken part in the war of the five Kings.

So, why not just attack them with full force?

“Has Jon Targaryen taken the Twins?” Lord Banefort asked, staring at the messenger that Rhaegar´s son had sent to talk to them.

“Yes, he has my lord.”

“And no doubt put my family to the sword.” Barked Emmon from his seat beside Genna. “I am sure-.”

“Enough.” Jaime barked at the man, causing the smaller man to shrink away in fear.

“My King did not put house Frey to the sword, King Jon is no murder of children.” The messenger spoke up in a calm and collected voice and pulled himself to his full height. “Trials were held and every soul in the Twins was interrogated to find out the truth about what happened that night, when your father attacked King Robb and his lords, and those found guilty were put to death, but those who had nothing to do with the massacre were not harmed.”

The man stared at the second son of Old Walder as the men around the room started to speak amongst themselves in low tones, and Jaime felt hope rise in his chest, but the man wasn’t done. “You can ask lord Brian Frey, the new lord of the Crossing when he arrives with his new King.”

Jaime leaned forward as he asked in a disbelieving tone. “Jon Targaryen named Brian Frey as the new lord of the Crossing?”

“Of course, my lord, lord Brian is both next in line and blameless in Old Walder´s crimes.”

Jaime glanced at his aunt, before he spoke again. “Where does your King want to meet us?”

Chapter Text

MARGAERY

She rose from her knees and she could feel the pain shooting through her legs, from having stayed in the same position for so long without moving, at the altar of the Mother.

Marge brushed the dust from the skirt of her black dress with a frown, not liking wearing so much black for the last few weeks.

She had come to yearn for the colorful clothing that she had grown used to wearing, as her family was not supplying dresses for her anymore, the colors of house Targaryen were the only option for her as it seemed to be the only thing her handmaids were able or willing to give to her.

She hated having to be forced to wear the colors of her husband after how he had treated her, Aegon was content to ignore her if he was not claiming his rights to her as her husband, which was something he had started to do in the last few days after having left her in peace after their wedding night. Every time he did, she felt so dirty and soiled that not even the daily baths she took could wash it away.

Just thinking about his grabbing hands made her feel like she was back in her bed and he was inches away from crawling atop of her.

Marge turned when she could hear the doors of the sept open and she watched her father hurried into the sept after closing the door with a loud thud. “There you are sweetling.”

Lord Mace Tyrell was looking as pale as winter snow as he rushed to her, hands shaking as he grabbed her shoulders. “Father, are you well?”

“I have been in a council meeting with the King where I heard the most disturbing news.”

Marge felt her brows rise on her forehead, the curiosity rose within her. “What is it? What did you hear?”

Her father looked around like he was making sure that no one could overhear them. “One of the messengers returned, he told us that Aegon´s brother has taken Winterfell back from the bastard of Bolton and that the boy had called two dragons from Essos to him.”

Margaery could only stare at the Lord of Highgarden in bewilderment. “That is impossible, right? Not one of the Targaryen´s of Old could call dragons to them.”

It had to be just a wild rumor that had grown out of control, it just had to be. The fact that the dragon Dreamfyre had not come to Rhaena Targaryen had been a huge issue for her and her husband, when Maegor the Cruel had usurped the throne from his nephew, Aegon the Uncrowned.

The children of Aenys Targaryen had to sneak into the city to get Dreamfyre and their father´s dragon, Quicksilver, in order to have even a slight chance against Maegor and Balerion the Black Dread.

So, why would two dragons even fly to a man, who was across the Narrow Sea? A man that they had never even met?

They would not.

Though the thrill of Jon Targaryen getting large dragons, shot through her like lightning, she had come to dearly hope that Aegon would fall in battle soon and then she would once again be free to marry. Possibly even a man with dragons.

“The messenger swears that he is telling the truth.” Her father gripped her shoulders tighter, as if to stop himself from shaking.

Margaery forced a smile on her face. “These are probably just rumors that the smallfolk are telling to entertain themselves.”

Mace Tyrell stared at her for a moment. “Yes, yes you are right, they have to be just rumors. The Hand even said so himself, you must be right.”

Marge felt her smile curdle when her father spoke of the Hand. She did not like the man who was acting as her husband´s Lord Hand, although her dislike for Jon Connington was nothing compared to how much she had come to loathe Aegon.

No matter her personal feelings, now was not the time to act. Marge had to wait until she could assess Jon Targaryen herself, having learned her lesson and not willing to make the same mistake twice.

She knew that Lord Eddard Stark would not have raised his perceived bastard like some spoiled princeling but one had to be careful. The more she thought about it, the more she grew sure that he could not possibly be worse than Aegon.

Marge smiled at her father but the curiosity burned in her. “Did you learn anything else in that meeting?”

Mace let out a laugh and he let her shoulders go, to place his hands on his large belly. “Oh, just some more nonsense, like how the smallfolk claim that Jon Targaryen rose from the dead.”

Marge rolled her eyes at those words, she did not need any more rumors, she needed to hear what was happening out in the world.

She needed to know more about Jon Targaryen. “Did you hear anything else about him?” She made an effort to sound almost disinterested but she was sure that if she did not, her father would not pick up on anything even if he tried.

“Oh, the man told us that he had married his cousin, the Stark girl and he saved Lord Rickon Stark from death apparently.” His words caused her to grow hot and cold at the same time.

Jon Targaryen had married Sansa Stark?

Margaery could feel the emotions swirl around in her body. Anger, disappointment and disbelief were the most prevalent among them.

Why on earth had he done that? He was already of the North himself so there was no need to strengthen the ties there. A man with the best claim on the throne as well as dragons to his name could have any woman that he wanted, so why settle for Sansa Stark?

Sure, Sansa Stark was beautiful and kind but she was rather dim and childish. All the beauty and kindness in the world could not make up for how uninteresting and witless the girl was.

Did Jon Targaryen like those sorts of women? She knew that many men did but she had hoped to win him over with her beauty and wit.

She felt the unfamiliar feeling of hesitance, over their stay in King´s Landing she had come to like Sansa Stark even though she was rather dull.

However, it was Margaery´s dream to become Queen. Ever since she had been a little girl, she had planned to wear the crown and she could not let anything stop her now.

“-ave in a few days.” Marge stared at her father, realizing that she had been so lost in her thoughts that she had not heard what he said.

“I am sorry, what did you say?”

“King Aegon is heading to Bronzegate and we will be taking the castle. After all, he cannot allow Lord Buckler´s insult to go on unanswered, so we will be leaving in a few days and then we will be heading to the capital.”

“Will you be going with them?” As much as she bemoaned how foolish her father could sometimes be, she did not want him to go to battle.

“Of course.” He looked a little nervous, but he hid it rather well. “Loras and I-.”

“Loras is going with you?” Her voice rose with fear for her brother. Loras could not go to war, he was too fragile after what the Sparrows had done to him.

“Yes of course, he is a knight and a Tyrell of Highgarden.”

“I need to speak with the Lord Hand.” She announced to her father before sweeping out of the sept.

She knew that it would not get her anywhere to speak with her husband. Aegon would only laugh at her if she told him of her concerns.

While she did not hold the Hand of the King in high esteem, it was preferable to deal with him rather than Aegon. Connington had showed reason before and maybe she could convince him that it would be better to leave Loras in Storm´s End with her.

Perhaps they could ride to Highgarden, when the men had all left the castle, to seek refuge with her brother Willas.

Marge did not want to leave her father to the mercies of Aegon and the Golden company but as much as she loved him, she loved Loras even more.

The youngest children of Mace Tyrell were as close as twins and Marge knew that she could not bear to lose her brother.

She arrived at the door to the solar of the Hand, where Connington spent long hours. Margaery knocked on the door and rushed in when she heard the Hand call, allowing her to enter.

When she entered, Connington did not look up and kept on writing. She could feel resentment towards him even though Aegon was not a good husband, she was still his wife and his Queen and the man before her had no right to ignore her.

“Lord Hand.” The man finally looked up and a confused furrow appeared on his brow, causing her anger to abate a little. “It has come to my attention that you are heading to Bronzegate, taking my father and brother with you to battle.”

“Yes.” The man leaned back and looked at her like she was a foolish child. “That is how war works, the men fight for their King.”

She compressed her lips in her anger. “My brother is still recovering from what the Sparrows did to him, he will not be of any use to you fighting a war.”

“That is not for you to decide.” His voice did not rise, his words only served to make her grow more furious but she made sure that he could not see it on her face.

Instead, she smiled. “You are right, it is not. My husband decides who goes with him but it would be prudent to leave my brother here so that he may help guard me.”

“There will be men left here in Storm´s End to guard the castle and you.” The man seemed to be losing interest in the subject as he spoke. “There is no need for you to worry.”

It physically pained her to keep her smile on her face. “My brothe-.”

“Your brother has sworn himself and his sword to King Aegon and will do his duty to his King.” His sharp tone made it impossible for her to hold on to the smile. “As you should be.”

“I am your Queen.” The words slipped out of her mouth as she pulled herself to her full height and grew cold with anger. “You cannot speak-.”

“You have yet to announce that you are with child, until you give Aegon a son, your place as Queen is tenuous at best.”

Margaery felt like she had just been slapped and she could only stare at the man as he continued to speak. “Your duty is to give the King a son and an heir. Having been married to him for weeks now, you have yet to give him that.”

Jon Connington stood up and walked around the desk, until he came up to her and leaned forward, his hot breath touching her face and angry eyes glaring at her. “So, until you announce that you are carrying King Aegon´s son and heir, quit mouthing of about matters that you know nothing and do your duty.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Margaery felt both fury and fear as he loomed over her, using his larger body to intimidate her.

Then she averted her eyes, pretending to be meek and submissive, while wanting nothing more than to slap him. There was a fear growing in her, that maybe he would strike her or worse, she knew that if he did, no one would say or do anything.

After a moment longer of him standing over her he retreated, clearly satisfied, believing that he had intimidated her and walked over to the desk and sat back down. “Now, get out.”

She did not wait for him to repeat himself and scurried out of the solar like the Stranger was hounding her steps.

Margaery hurried away from the solar, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes but she refused to allow them to fall.

Her throat constricted and her breath started to quicken. When she finally made it to her room, she felt so relieved to be able to let the tears fall and the sobs to escape.

The anger and fear she had felt in that solar was now rushing through her and she allowed herself to cry as much as her body seemed to want it.

The humiliation she was feeling was threatening to overwhelm her and after what felt like an eternity, she got her tears and sobbing under control.

On trembling legs, she made her way to the bed and sat down.

How dare that man speak like this to her? She was the Queen and speaking to her like that should be punished.

She knew that Aegon would not lift a finger to help her even if his Lord Hand would have hit her. Her father would not either. Her husband was still furious with him and their House because Willas had not sent the armies of the Reach to aid him to take King´s Landing.

A part of her wanted to be angry at Willas but she could not really bring herself to. His men had wanted them to ride back to Highgarden where it was safe. Her father wanting her to marry Aegon, she needing to be Queen and have her revenge against Cersei had been the deciding factor that this was a better idea.

Going to Storm´s End instead of going home, had been the worst mistake that she had ever made and no amount of suffering that Cersei would go through when the throne would be taken away from her, would make being married to Aegon worth it.

SAM

The bells of the Starry Sept were driving him to madness with their incessant ringing as he ran across the courtyard of the citadel, with arms filled with quivers filled with arrows.

Sam bumped into another novice, almost causing the newly made arrows to fall to the ground and he narrowly managed to hold on to them.

Sam heard the other man curse angerly at his clumsiness but, rather than stay to listen, he called out an apology and hurried to his destination. 

Huffing and puffing, he finally made it up the stairs of the walls that enclosed the Citadel from the rest of the city. He looked over the wall, trying to spot Alleras´s dark hair or Gilly and little Sam but he could not see them, only city guards wearing the colors of house Hightower, trying to restore order over the terrified citizens of Oldtown.

“Sam, over here.” Mollander called him over with his thick arms waving to catch his attention. “Thank the gods you are here.”

Mollander grabbed one of the quivers out of his hands and looked at it like one would stare at a loved one, before he attached it to his person.

“Have you seen Alleras?” Sam asked the man, feeling a little proud that his voice did not tremble from fear of the over looming death that was heading their way.

The tall man stared at him with terrified and bewildered eyes. “No, why should I be looking for him?”

“Could you keep an eye out? I need to talk to him.”

“Why do you need to talk to him?” There was sense of desperation in his voice, almost like the man was begging him to distract him from what was about to happen.

Sam rushed away, as he heard Mollander call out his question again. There was no time for him to stay and explain himself to the other man, not when there was an important task to carry out.

He hurriedly handed out the arrows to the men that were stationed on the walls, the all too familiar fear trying to take over his being but he did his best to push it aside.

Sam had killed an Other with a dagger made of obsidian, he could survive this. Sam repeated that fact to himself as he hurried along the wall, while asking the novices if they had seen Alleras.

Sam held the last quiver in his hands as he came to the last figure on the wall. “How are you feeling, Ser Jorah?”

He handed the quiver to the large man before him, the son of the Old Bear nodded his thanks. “I am better, thanks to you and your friend.” The man looked pale and tired as he looked on out to the city.

“Are you sure that you are well enough to fight?”

Ser Jorah sent him an indignant look. “I am only on the Citadel walls, I will not be fighting with the men on the docks.”

As soon as the incensed words had fallen from his lips, the man seemed ashamed of himself. “I beg your pardon, maester Sam. You have been nothing but kind, you have saved my life and I am being rude to you.”

Sam sent him a smile. “I have heard worse.” He had intended it as a jape but the look Ser Jorah sent him, made it clear that he had failed.

Perhaps Jon´s inability to joke was contagious.

“That does not make my words any better.”

Sam, wanted to talk about something else and needing to know where Alleras was, decided to ask Ser Jorah. “Say, you would not have seen the fellow I was with that night, with a young woman and a babe?”

Ser Jorah shook his head. “No, I have not.”

Sam felt the disappointment and fear rise in him again, knowing that he would just have to wait and give his friend a little more time.

“Will you tell him that I am looking for them? If you happen to see them.” He asked the man and relief rushing his veins when the other man nodded.

“Of course, I owe you that at least.”

“Thank you.” Sam turned to leave, to head back to the citadel to help in some way. However, it was like his feet did not want to go and were rooted to the ground.

The last words of the Old Bear were ringing in his ears, like the bells of the Sept.

Sam wrung his hands together, nervously trying to think of a way to tell Ser Jorah that the Old Bear had wanted him to travel to the Wall and take the Black, so that the Knight could regain his honor.

He slowly turned back around; the other man was still looking at him but now there was a glint of concern in his eyes. “Are you well, maester Sam?”

“I am not a maester.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before anything could be done to stop them. “I have yet to earn a link.”

Ser Jorah stared at him with a frown. “Curing me of Greyscale did not earn you a silver link?”

Sam shook his head. “No, I went against Archmaester Ebrose´s instructions when I decided to try. I am just thankful that they did not throw me out.”

The air around them turned awkward, as the knight seemed to grow uncomfortable, knowing that Sam had almost been dismissed from the Citadel, for curing him.

His stomach dropped seeing how the other man was clearly blaming himself for the Archmaester´s anger at Sam. “No, it’s alright. I knew that they might be angry at me; besides I did not get thrown out.”

Sam had come to accept that he might not earn even a single link and he was fine with that. What really mattered was that Sam would be able to continue to search the library, he needed to find anything pertaining to the Long Night and the Others.

Sam had taken an unnecessary risk in treating the knight. However, he just could not stand idlily by while the son of the Old Bear was slowly dying.

“Well, I thank the Old gods and the New for that mercy then.” Ser Jorah seemed a little relieved. “I would have thought that it would have been a travesty, if such a talented healer had been expelled from the Citadel.”

Sam could feel the blush heat up his cheeks at the complement. “Thank you, Ser Jorah. However, there was something…” Sam trailed off, not knowing how to word what he wanted to say.

He remembered when Jon had told him how he had been warging into one of Daenerys Targaryen´s dragon. One of the many things that Jon could not have known without warging into one of the dragons, was that Ser Jorah was working for Daenerys Targaryen.

Sam was not sure how the man before him would take it, hearing that not only was his father dead but that his last words were that he wanted Jorah to take the Black, to redeem himself for his crimes.

There was no doubt in Sam´s mind that the man would be angry as well as rightly distrustful of his words.

Everyone was talking about Jon now, how he had hatched dragons at the Wall and it was no secret that Sam was his friend, along with them serving together in the Night´s Watch.

So, why should the man believe him. Not only did Ser Jorah not know him, he might also even think that this was some kind of scheme to get him out of the Mad King´s daughter´s service.

However, Sam had to try and tell him the truth. The Old Bear deserved nothing less from Sam.

Pale eyes looked at the former Lord of Bear Island, who was still waiting for him to continue.

“You might know by now, that I serve the Night´s Watch.” Sam began, resisting the urge to wring his now empty hands. “I served under your father, at Castle Black.”

There was a myriad of emotions on the knight´s face when Sam mentioned his father. Guilt and fear seemed to tug at the man hardest. “Aye, I have heard something about that.”

Sam shifted his weight, in an effort to control the apprehension about delivering the news to the man. “I do not know if you heard but I think that it would be cruel of me if I did not inform you, that your father died.”

Ser Jorah´s face lost all its color and his mouth went slack from what he was hearing. “How did my father die?”

“We were beyond the Wall, returning from the Great Ranging, however as we took shelter with a Wildling man named Craster, we were betrayed by our fellow Night´s Watch men. One of the Black Brothers who mutinied murdered him.”

The horror on the knight´s face was indescribable and it made his already weathered face look that much older. “He was betrayed?”

The man sounded like this could not happen. Which was something that stuck Sam as odd, because had not the man betrayed his father when he had sold men into slavery?

“Yes, he was.” Sam had a hard time looking at the man, not wanting to see the grief on his face. “I was there with him when he passed.”

Ser Jorah did not say anything, only stared, waiting for him to continue. “Before dying, he told me to contact you.”

“Contact me? Why did he want you to do that?”

Sam cleared his throat, wanting to have more time to formulate his response. “To deliver a message to you. Lord Commander Mormont wanted you to head to the Wall to join the Night´s Watch.”

His voice shook as he spoke, the desire to run far away was nearly overwhelming. The son of the Old Bear was staring at him with an unreadable look.

That look however, turned to one of suspicion as the stare was growing harder and colder. “He said that? To you?”

“Yes, he did.” Sam managed to keep his voice from trembling, staring into Ser Jorah´s face, daring the man to call him a liar.

As they stared at one another, they both remained silent but the suspicious look on Ser Jorah´s face did not let up, rather he seemed to become more wary of Sam with every heart beat.

“Is not Lord Stark´s bastard your friend?”

Sam felt himself straighten; it was like his body was reacting to Ser Jorah´s words without any thought. “Yes, he is. However, this has nothing to do with him.”

With a thunderous look, Ser Jorah spoke and with every word, his cheeks grew redder. “You mean to tell me, that it is only a coincidence that there are rumors that he hatched dragons at the Wall? Is it a coincidence that Jon Snow is rumored to be Rhaegar Targaryen´s trueborn son? Giving him a better claim to the throne than Queen Daenerys.”

Sam felt the instinct to back away from the man, yet as his feet started to move, Jon´s words echoed through his skull.

Jon had given him an order, to hide his fear and the Old Bear had tasked Sam with letting his son know his dying wish.

Sam pulled himself to his full height as he steeled his spine. “This has nothing to do with Jon, nor with my friendship with him. Your father, my Lord Commander at the time tasked me with delivering the message to you if I could, now I have done so.”

The man seemed a little taken back by Sam´s change in posture, allowing Sam to continue uninterrupted. “You can believe me and do what your father wanted you to do. You can regain your honor after selling men into slavery, or you can do whatever you like and disregard his last wish.”

His hands were shaking with fear that the man would hit him, for speaking like this to his face. However, the punch never came, the man continued to stare at Sam, not knowing what to believe.

As the man stared ahead, almost like he did not see Sam anymore, the Black Brother turned and started to make his way back. He had to go and get more arrows, to hand them out to the archers on the wall.

Perhaps he should not have said anything to the man, even though his heart was now lighter than it had been.

It felt so good, having been able to let Ser Jorah know about what his father had wanted for him.

Though there was a nagging feeling, that maybe he could have been more sensitive in how he had delivered the message to the man that his father was dead, as well as how he had told him what the Old Bear had wanted.

“Maester Sam.” Ser Jorah called, making Sam stop and turn. The older man was staring at him, nervousness in his eyes. “Did my father suffer?”

Sam did not know what he should do, should he tell him the truth or should he lie? He desperately wanted to say that the man had not suffered, even though it was not the truth.

“He did, though not for long.” Sam watched as the man´s face fell, he felt awful as the man seemed so lost. Sam wanted to say something but Ser Jorah turned and walked away from him.

Sam´s shoulder´s slumped as he turned back and made his way back with a heavy heart.

He felt guilty of having just thrown his dying father´s wish in his lap and then running away like a coward.

Making his way back to the others, he heard his name being shouted at him causing him to look up and seeing Mollander wave his thick arms to get his attention.

Sam made his way over to Mollander. “I saw Alleras.”

“Where is he?” Sam felt his heart skip a beat at the news.

“He was heading over there.” The man pointed towards the sleeping cells and Sam hurried there, as he called out his thanks to the man.

He was grateful that Alleras was heading to the sleeping cells, as there would not be a lot of men there now that everyone was getting ready for the siege.

Sam slipped inside the one that housed the novices of the citadel and whispered Alleras´s name.

“Sam, we are here.” Out of the dark room Alleras came followed by Gilly, holding baby Sam tightly in her arms.

Her big doe eyes stared at him as she rushed forward to hug him while taking great care not to hurt the small child.

After releasing her from the hug, he turned to face Alleras. “Why did you take so long? Did you run into trouble?”

“You could say that.” Alleras looked more annoyed than anything else. “It does not matter, nothing we could not handle but I think they need to go to the Starry Sept, it would be the safest option for them.”

Gilly frowned. “In that big building across the river with the pretty widows? How could we possibly be safe there?”

“Septs are built like fortresses.” Sam explained. “With maybe a few exceptions, they are built to withstand sieges.

“You have to hurry, before the doors are closed.” Alleras looked almost as anxious as Sam felt. “When the doors are closed, they won’t open again until the siege is lifted.”

Sam stared at his friend in surprise. “I thought that they would keep them open for longer than this, I thought that they would remain open until the Greyjoys arrived.”

His heart constricted at seeing the look on Alleras´s face. “Their sails have been spotted and are expected to arrive shortly.”

The fear that was gripping him, made him feel like an Other had just stepped into the room with them and it was hard for him to get his breathing under control. “Gilly you have to get to the Starry Sept before they close the doors.”

“But Sam-.” She tried to protest but Sam only shook his head. “Please Gilly, you and baby Sam have to get there, it is the safest place for the two of you.”

After a moment of looking like she wanted to protest and demand to stay here, she relented. “Alright, I will go if you think that it is the best place for us.”

“I will take you, Gilly.” Alleras smiled at her, sadness coloring his dark eyes.

“Thank you Alleras, I owe you one.” Sam nodded at the Dornish man, grateful for this kindness.

The other man just waved him off. “No, you do not. It was I who owed you for having covered for me, when archmaester Ebrose wanted to punish us for going against orders to heal the Northman.”

Sam found himself blushing when the Dornish man spoke about how Sam claimed to have forced Alleras to help him, so that the other man would not be punished.

“Though we have to go now.” Alleras turned to Gilly who looked like she really did not want to leave.

Gilly nodded, turning to give Sam a soft kiss on the lips. Then she turned to followed Alleras out the door, making Sam feel like his heart was in his throat.

Chapter Text

SAM

Sweat ran down his brow as he rushed through the streets of the city. His shoulder bumping into others, as people hurried in every direction, trying either to find shelter or going to their stations to defend their homes from the oncoming Ironborn invaders.

The screams, shouts and cries were almost enough to drown out the incessant ringing of the bells of the Starry Sept, the noise was driving him up the wall and he was sure that the fear that was hanging over the city was even greater than anything else he had witnessed before.

Sam could not blame them for that, the stories he had heard from all over the North after the Greyjoy´s had invaded were horrific. Men, women and children had been killed or worse, while the many of the survivors had been carted off to become slaves.

Those thoughts were shoved to the side, as his legs screamed at him to stop running across the city.

When Sam finally arrived back at the citadel, his throat felt dry as he longed for a drink of water to wash down that weird slimy thing that was stuck to the roof of his mouth that always came when he pushed himself hard physically.

With a shudder he swallowed it, knowing that nausea would rear its ugly head if he did not, as he made his way into the large building.

“Tarly.” Sam looked to the direction from where his name had been shouted, one of Archmaester Ebrose’s assistants was standing there with an irritated look on his face. “Archmaester Ebrose is looking for you, you are to report to him.”

“Now?” Sam was so surprised that the Archmaester was looking for him, that he could not help but to gape dumbly at the assistant that was staring at him.

“Yes. Did I fucking stutter?” With that, the man turned around, not looking back, forcing Sam to run after him.

“Why does the Archmaester want to speak to me?” Sam asked, only to be thrown an angry glare.

“Do I look like the Archmaester to you?” The man asked snidely. “You are to report to him at the Seneschal´s court, that is all I know so stop asking me questions.”

Sam´s eyes widened and what little breath there was in his lungs was knocked out of them.

Fear filled him as they walked in silence and Sam felt like he was a child again, summoned to his father´s solar for a dressing down. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest while his palms were sweating as they shook uneasily.

When they made it to the Seneschal´s court and stopped outside the door, Sam closed his eyes and remembered Jon´s words to him.

Sam took a deep breath, to steel himself before going in. The Archmaester was not his father, he would not be forcing him into a bath filled with aurochs blood to make him brave.

He entered the large room. The room was tall, circular and the big colorful windows were all casting light on the Archmaesters who were seated, forming a horseshoe shape, making it clear to Sam that he was to go to the middle.

The room was filled with the voices of the normally composed Archmaesters, who were now all trying to spout out their opinions what they should do, however as so many voices were echoing of the walls, Sam could not make out what anyone was saying.

Thankfully the Archmaesters were not wearing their masks, leaving their faces uncovered and he could see the myriad of emotions of the men in the room. Most of the old men were wearing a look of terror or fury on their faces.

Sam stood in the middle, forcing his knees to stop shaking, waiting until they noticed him. It was then that the reality of the situation struck him, he had been summoned by Archmaester Ebrose to speak with the entire conclave.

The only Archmaester who was not taking part in the heated debates, was old Archmaester Walgrave. The old man was just sitting there, clutching his cane looking ahead without moving, like he was off in his own world.

Sam did not know if he should try and make his presence known or if he should wait. He opened his mouth to try and get their attention but he was quick to close it again.

Would the Archmaesters be mad if he were to interrupt them?

They had been the ones that had asked Sam to come, so they had clearly wanted to speak to him, right?

Sam cleared his throat and raised his hand, to get the conclave´s attention, without making them think that he was offering them disrespect.

However, the men only continued to bicker.

Sam could feel the irritation rise; he should not be here. He should be with the others and prepare for the fight that was incoming.

As soon as the feeling came, Sam tried to squash it down, they were the Archmaesters of the Citadel, they had every right to get one singular novice to… to do what exactly?

It could not be because of how he had gone against orders to heal Ser Jorah. They had much more pressing matters to attend to. The Greyjoy fleet had been spotted, which meant that the Ironborn had to have taken the castle of Blackcrown or that Lord Bulwer was not intending to go against the invaders.

No, Lord Bulwer would not just allow the Greyjoys to sail unopposed to the city, it was far more probable that the Ironborn had sacked the castle, after having sunk the lord´s ships or commandeered them into their own fleet.

“Tarly.” He jumped at the sound of his name and looked up. The one who had called his name was the current Seneschal, Archmaester Theobald. “Good, you are here.”

Silence had fallen over the room, every eye in the court was now on him, making him want to sink into the floor. “You asked for me?” Sam wanted to kick himself for sounding like he was asking them a question.

“Yes, we have a few matters we need to discuss with you.” The Seneschal leaned forward; his brown eyes boring into him as a suspicion about what they wanted to ask him was creeping up his spine.

Sam said nothing, waiting for the man to ask the questions that had been haunting him ever since the rumors started to circulate. He had to wonder why now? They were busy with the Greyjoys and the maesters were not traditionally believers in magic.

Except for Archmaester Marwyn, who was sitting in his seat silently. The light streaming through the colored windows was casting a dark green light on his face, as he glared angerly at Archmaester Ryam.

Sam had not seen the man since his return to the city, although he had heard that the Archmaester had only made it as far as Starfall, before rushing back to the citadel.

“You served with Jon Snow at Castle Black, did you not?” The Seneschal asked, staring at him with such intensity that made Sam feel small.

“Yes, I serv-.”

“Does he have dragons?” Archmaester Norren demanded impatiently, the light bouncing of his greenish-yellow electrum ring. “Have you seen them?”

“I…I…” Sam stared at the man, feeling a little thrown that he had not allowed him to finish, he felt that maybe he should have expected this.

Archmaester Norren was infamous amongst the novices of the citadel, for loving the sound of his own voice so much, that he never allowed people to finish anything that they were saying.

“Archmaester Norren.” The Seneschal sent the man a stern look. “Allow the boy to finish.”

Norren´s face turned red, thankfully saying nothing.

“I was at Castle Black and Jon served as the Lord Commander after Lord Commander Mormont was killed.”

“Did you at any point see any traces of dragons?” As the Seneschal focused gaze did not waver from him, Sam felt the urge to flee from the room.

“No, I have not seen any dragons.” Sam confessed truthfully, however his voice shook like a leaf in a storm.

Certainly enough, Archmaester Mollos declared loudly that he was a liar. “The boy is lying; he has to be. Snow could not have hidden dragons from the world for such a long time without anyone knowing.”

“How do you know?” Archmaester Marwyn said in a mocking tone. “What do you know about dragons and dragonriders?”

Mollos wrinkled face turned red, making the man look like a drying prune. “Enough to know that growing dragons are not easily concealed.” The old Archmaester turned back to Sam and pointed his gnarly finger at Sam. “This boy is the bastard´s friend, he must have been helped in hiding the beasts.”

Sam felt the blood drain from his face as the old man was staring at him with wild eyes, like he wanted nothing more than to execute Sam.

“Archmaester Mollos, please.” Embrose´s voice sounded exhausted. “We do not even know if the boy has dragons.”

Norren snorted. “Are you discounting maester Vyman´s letter? Especially after having heard all the claims about the boy?”

Sam wondered who this maester Vyman was and why his letter had been so instrumental in causing so much fear with the Archmaesters.

Before the men could start arguing again, Archmaester Perestan leaned forward, pale eyes fixing on Sam. “Tarly, you say you have not seen any dragons.” Sam nodded hurriedly and the old man took it as a sign to continue. “You know Jon Snow; do you think that he would lie about having them? If he thought that it would win the lords over to his side?”

Despite the man´s calm words and grandfatherly demeanor, Sam grew angry. “Jon would not lie about having dragons, Jon would never lie.”

His eyes traveled from one Archmaester to the next. Why were they so concerned about the rumors of Jon having dragons when the Greyjoys were at their doorsteps? If Euron Greyjoy managed to take the city, then it would not matter to the citizens of Oldtown if dragons were back in the world.

“What kind of man is your friend?” Perestan asked, his voice still calm and collected, causing Sam to grow even angrier.

“Why do you care?” Sam demanded; he was tired of the men in front of him. They should be trying their best to help the people of the city, not arguing amongst themselves about Jon. “The Ironfleet is at your doorstep, while you sit here and ask me questions about Jon.”

The men stared at him, then Archmaester Marwyn turned to the Seneschal. “We should write to Jon Targaryen, get him to fly his larger dragons here and help us defend the city from the Greyjoys.”

Sam stared at Archmaester Marwyn, rooted to the floor in shock.

Larger dragons? The memory of Jon telling him about the dragon on the other side of the Narrow Sea forced itself to the forefront of his mind.

“Write to him?” Ryam indignant voice cut through his thoughts. “Defend us with his dragons? Have you finally lost your mind Marwyn? We cannot rely on some Northern bastard and his beasts to save us.”

Sam could feel the nails cut into the palm of his hands, as he fought the urge to shout out at the man. Jon was not just some bastard; he was his best friend and his brother in all but blood.

“Why should we not ask for his aid?” Ebrose asked. “If the Citadel falls, then all knowledge in Westeros will be threatened and might be lost.”

“We should rely on Garlan Tyrell.” Norren stated firmly, looking at the Seneschal. Sam looked around the room and he could see that almost all the Archmaesters were nodding in agreement with Norren´s words. “It is house Tyrell´s duty to protect us, along with house Hightower.”

“Archmaester Norren is right.” Archmaester Vaellyn spoke up. “We should allow lords Baelor Hightower and Garlan Tyrell to defend us from the Ironborn.”

As he stood there, Sam could feel eyes on him. He turned to see that Archmaester Marwyn was looking at him, with a thoughtful look in his eyes.

Then the man turned to the others and spoke in a loud voice. “We send word to Jon Targaryen, not only is he said to be the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen but he is also said to have two large dragons by his side.”

“These could be just rumors.” Vaellyn said and Sam could almost feel the hatred the man felt for Marwyn. “He is probably lying about being the son of Rhaegar Targaryen to have a claim on the throne and there is also no way that he has dragons by his side.”

Although Vaellyn had been the one to answer, Sam felt that Archmaester Marwyn had been directing his words at him, rather than his colleagues.

Was the man hoping that Sam would go and contact Jon, to get him to help them with the Ironborn? He did not think that it was unlikely, as Marwyn was one of the few men in the citadel who thought dragons returning to the world was a good thing.

If Jon had managed to call the dragon he had been warging into, then he might be able save the city of Oldtown.

“The maester of Riverrun has sent us a letter that Jaime Lannister is taking those claims seriously, so seriously in fact that he is willing to try and negotiate with King Jon.”

Vaellyn shook his head at Marwyn. “The Kingslayer is not known for his intellect, he was even bested by a boy of sixteen. Perhaps he is worried that Jon Snow will be a more challenging foe than Robb Stark and is looking for a way to salvage the rest of his tattered reputation.”

“The boy is no King.” Ryam injected, with a thunderous look on his face. “He has not been crowned in the Starry Sept, so he cannot call himself the King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“That is not true.” Perestan refuted, as calm as he had been when talking to Sam. “Robb Stark was a King, he was not anointed by the High Septon.”

Ryam sneered at the historian and made himself likely to say something, nevertheless he was ignored by Perestan. “I am certain that since the construction of the Great Sept of Baelor, not one King has been anointed in the Starry Sept.”

As the two men started to argue, if it mattered that Jon was anointed in the Starry sept or not, Sam closed his eyes in frustration at their behavior.

He listened as the men argued, most of the Archmaesters seemed to agree with Ryam causing Sam to grow angrier by the moment.

Here they were, on the verge of a bloody siege to defend the city against the Ironborn. However the most intelligent men of Westeros were fighting about whether or not they should write to Jon or depend on lord Baelor Hightower or ser Garlan Tyrell.

If it was true what they were saying and the dragon that Jon had been telling him about before Sam had left for the citadel, then he might be able to ride that dragon here and help them throw back the Greyjoys.

The argument between the men started to grow hotter as Archmaester Ryam was turning purple as he screamed at Marwyn, pointing his finger threateningly at him.

“ENOUGH.” The Seneschal banged his fist on the table, eyes hard as stone. The room fell silent as Archmaester Theobald stared angerly at the men in the room before his eyes found Sam, who was standing still as a statue in the middle.

“Tarly, you may go now.” The Seneschal waved him off.

With a frown, Sam turned away from the maesters and fled from the room, he did not give into the urge to look over his shoulder where the old men were fighting amongst themselves about what to do next.

As soon as his feet exited the chamber, the door was slammed shut behind him but he could hear the Archmaesters fight amongst themselves.

Sam stood outside the door for a moment, feeling numb and hardly believing what had just happened.

While the people of the city were preparing to defend themselves against the Ironborn, the leaders of the citadel spent their time arguing about affairs that did not matter. If they truly believed that the rumors about Jon were correct and that he did have dragons on his side, why were they not writing to him, asking him to come and help them against Euron Greyjoy and his reavers.

The maesters might be content to yell and argue but Sam was not. He would send word to Riverrun where Jon was said to be meeting Jaime Lannister, to tell him what was happening here in Oldtown.

If Jon really had dragons under his command then Sam had to write to him. Right now, it was their best chance to fight the Ironborn and to protect Oldtown, to protect Gilly and baby Sam.

Sam hurried away from the Seneschal’s court, in search of Alleras. He was sure that the other man would help him to sneak into the Ravenry to send a letter to Jon, it might be the only way for them to defeat the Ironborn.

TYRION

He rubbed his eyes, trying valiantly to stay awake but it seemed to be an impossible task.

Ever since the Queen and her armies had left the city, he had not gotten much sleep, as he was dealing with a city that was still recovering from the economic shock of having its main export suddenly banned, as well as having hosted a Dothraki hoard of forty thousand.

The Dothraki were like locust, they traveled around taking and leaving nothing but dust in their wake.

While the hoard of Dothraki had been camped both inside Meereen and outside its walls, it had been like every citizen had held their breath while praying that they would not be attacked by the Dragon Queen´s newly acquired army.

However, now that the Dothraki had left with the Mother of dragons to Yunkai, unrest had taken hold of the city again, thankfully there had been no attacks from the sons of the Harpy.

The former slave masters were probably waiting and hoping that the Queen and her dragon would fall in Yunaki or Astapor.

Tyrion slid off his chair and gathered his papers and left the room quietly to seek out the Queen´s adviser, Missandei.

This late in the evening Tyrion was sure he would find her in the small council chambers. The young woman was nothing if not a dedicated worker and seemed determined to get the city back on its feet, this time without any slavery.

When he slinked into the chamber, he was happy to find out that he was right, the young woman was indeed inside. She was looking a little weary and tired as she sat by the table in the middle of the room with papers all around her.

“My lady, I was looking for you.”

Missandei looked up from what she had been reading and sent him a fatigued smile. “Yes, I was just looking over the reports about grain supplies of the city.”

He climbed onto a seat beside the young woman. “What did you find?”

“They are dwindling, fast. I fear that with no more shipments from the farms in the vicinity, we will not last the year.”

Tyrion poured himself a glass of sweet red wine. “The farms have not been producing enough food to feed even half of the population, even before the Dothraki came to Meereen.”

“I know, I do not know what to do about it.” Missandei admitted and hesitantly accepted a glass of wine. “With having to feed so many of the former slaves, I do not see how it is possible for us to feed all the people in the city.”

Tyrion rubbed his now impressive and well-groomed beard. It was something that he worried about as well, even though the population of Meereen was only a fraction of what it had been before the Valyrians conquered the of the Empire of Old Ghis, the city was still larger than both of Yunkai and Astapor combined and was home to tens of thousands of people.

How could they hope to feed so many, with such little supplies? Which made the food shortages they could be facing all the more troubling.

“We cannot keep giving the freed men food like we have been doing.” This was one of the opinions that he disagreed with Daenerys Targaryen on the most. The Queen of Meereen wanted to hand the former slaves food, while Tyrion wanted to put them to work let them earn their keep.

“The freed men are not slaves anymore.” Missandei said passionately and straightened her back. “Her grace has made it clear that slavery will never return to the bay of Drogon.”

“I am not saying that they should be slaves and I am not saying that we should starve them.” Tyrion raised his hands as he spoke. “All I am saying is that we need workers to help restore the city, working at the docks and they need money and food.”

Missandei frowned at him but said nothing so he continued. “Meereen has a lot of riches and we have not been able to spend any of the gold, that the Queen acquired when she took the city the first time. It has been hard to trade with other cities, so we pay the freed men for their work like any other workers and the city gets repaired, it’s a victory for everyone.”

“That could work.” Missandei seemed a little more hopeful than just a few moments ago. “Many of the Freed men can also work the fields around the city, that would help us get more food for the people of Meereen.”

Tyrion smiled enthusiastically at her words; it was a true pleasure to work with the young woman before him. She was so eager to help bring prosperity to the city; it was a delightful change as he was used to work with people who would be a lot happier to line their own pockets rather than see to the health of the city that they were supposed to help flourish.

For an hour or two, they worked on their new plans, trying to come up with the best solutions to get their scheme to work.

However, there was a sliver of doubt in Tyrion. He knew that if this worked then the city and its people would be better off than ever, because of that, Tyrion was sure that it would irritate and make the wrong people fearful.

“Are you looking forward to see your home again, Lord Tyrion?” His mismatched eyes darted to where Missandei was sitting, looking at him with curiosity in her eyes.

He thought for a moment that maybe he should tell her of his fear, that he might never again see the shores of Westeros, that he might never see any of the places that he had known growing up.

Her words brought up a sharp pain of longing in him, he hated having to be forced to stay in Slaver´s bay, serving the Dragon Queen. He wanted nothing more than to depart from this blasted city and return to the country of his birth and see his home once again.

Tyrion decided not to tell her of his fear. Missandei of Naath was too loyal to Daenerys Targaryen, she would tell the Queen immediately when she arrived from her conquest of Yunkai and Astapor.

He could not afford having the Queen knowing about his doubts, that she would reach the shores of Westeros.

After the two dragons abandoned her, she was growing more unstable by the day which did not make for a good ruler or a successful conqueror.

However, even if she had all three dragons that she had hatched in the Red Waste, she could only ride one of them, like the other Targaryen dragonriders before her.

Queen Daenerys seemed assured, now that she had Drogon back, that she could end slavery once and for all and then sail to Westeros and take up rule.

Still, Tyrion was confident in thinking that it was not nearly enough to end slavery for good.

The Valyrian´s of Old had conquered most of the known world, however Daenerys only had one dragon under her command, while the dragonlords of Old had countless dragons to break their enemies.

There was no realistic way for her to emulate the conquest of the Valyrian Freehold with only one dragon and around fifty thousand soldiers, no matter how big the dragon was or how brave and fierce the men were.

Even if Rhaegal and Viserion were to return to her, it simply was not enough. If she were to manage to conquer all the slave cities, what then?

She could not simply up and leave for Westeros, Daenerys would have to stay and govern to make sure that the slaves were not thrown back in chains the moment she sailed away.

He fought the urge to glance at Missandei, he had come to really like the woman and admire her intellect, she really was wasted on a lost cause such as governing Meereen.

The two of them could toil all they liked, trying to help the people of the city, although when the moment came, when Daenerys was tired of waiting around for the dragons that would undoubtedly never come, they would be forced to head west.

When Daenerys would no longer be governing the bay of Drogon, it would all fall back to the slavers, or any one of the slave cities would invade and tear everything down that they had built.

Perhaps it would be a good plan to introduce the idea, that Daenerys was not as perfect as Missandei thought she was. Tyrion could not go right out and say it to her, that would only make the woman refuse to believe in what he was trying to tell her.

He would have to be gentle and tactful.

“Lord Tyrion?” Missandei seemed concerned when he did not answer.

“My apologies, my lady. I do miss my home and I hope that I get to see it again one day.” He confessed, deciding not to come right out and state his fear of never seeing it again.

“You think that you will not see it again?”

Tyrion smiled sadly at her. “I do not know, men die in wars, even little men such like myself.” He tried to keep his tone both joyful and sad at the same time, hoping that she would start to ask him more questions.

“I am sure that our Queen will not send you into battle, your mind is too valuable.” Tyrion was impressed with her tact, normally he would have been told that no one would have expected a man of his stature to fight.

“Thank you.” He smiled at her and took a swig of the wine in his cup. “Though I fear that the Queen´s work may not allow us to return to Westeros.”

He discreetly studied her face, he noticed that there was a lot of confusion written all over it, as well as curiosity. “What do you mean? Her grace is taking Yunkai and Astapor and when Rhaegal and Viserion return to her, we will sail to the Sunset Kingdoms and take back her rightful throne.”

Tyrion had to stop himself from snorting at her words. “Queen Daenerys is certainly formidable; I think that only a fool would risk an open war with her.”

Missandei seemed to be filled with pride, when he spoke of Daenerys, however he was not done. “Although, even Queen Daenerys cannot be in many places at once.”

“What do you mean?” The woman sat straighter in her chair, as her sharp eyes stared into his.

Now came the tricky part, he had to introduce doubt in her mind, without her wanting to run to the Queen to tell her that Tyrion was going against Daenerys.

He took another swallow from his cup and moved to refill it again. “Well, men like the slavers of Yunkai and Astapor are so set in their ways, that almost immediately when our gracious Queen and her armies had disappeared beyond the horizon, they took the cities back. How do we know that the slave masters of Meereen will not do the same?”

She opened her mouth to respond but no sound came. Her eyes searched around the room, as if she could find the answer to his question in one of the corners.

“Well, maybe that will not happen.” Tyrion spoke again, having filled his cup to the brim. “If we do a good job here, then maybe everyone will see that slavery is vile and we can manage perfectly fine without it.”

Missandei was now looking at him again but he could not read her face. “Maybe.”

Her unreadable look turned into one of worry, filling Tyrion with guilt. He did not want her to feel bad, rather he wanted her to see the reality of the situation they were finding themselves in.

If she wanted to survive the upcoming months, Missandei needed to see Daenerys´s flaws and not just focus on how she had freed her from slavery. Which to be fair, was a massive undertaking to do for a person.

Still, Missandei needed to see that the Dragon Queen leaving Meereen would be viewed by the slavers as her giving the up city.

The thought of having Daenerys take up rule in Westeros filled him with dread, it was clear that the Mother of dragons felt that ruling Meereen was hard and she was right about that, however if she believed that ruling the Seven Kingdoms was easier, then she would be in for a rude awakening.

Tyrion cleared his throat. “The masters will likely think twice before crossing Queen Daenerys again.” He took yet another swallow of wine. “Not after she conquers Yunkai and Astapor, for the second time.”

Missandei nodded and took a small sip of her own wine, looking reassured; still Tyrion was sure that he could see a glimmer of doubt in her eyes. “You are right, she will defeat the slavers and when Rhaegal and Viserion come back, we shall sail with her to the Sunset Kingdoms.”

Tyrion found himself blinking at her in surprise. “Well, that may take a while but yes, I do think you are right.”

The young woman sent him a quizzical look. “It will not take our Queen a long time to subdue Yunkai and Astapor, she conquered them both once without the help of Drogon, she will do so again.”

Tyrion opened his mouth to reply but Missandei was already speaking before he could. “Or is it that you do not think that her dragons are not going to return?”

“I cannot say about the dragons.” Tyrion admitted, he found it doubtful that the two runaway dragons would ever show up again in Meereen unless they were forced to. “While I will confess that I have read much about them from various books and scrolls, I have only met Drogon, I think that you will agree that he is not like any other dragon.”

“You have done much reading about dragons?” Tyrion had to confess himself surprised that she did not know that, even though they had not spent copious amount of time together before Daenerys had left.

“Yes, I have but I fear that you know more about them than I do, having spent so much time with them.”

He watched as she drew her small fists together in her lap, as she clutched the fabric of her dress tightly. There was a hint of fear in her eyes before she spoke. “Do you know-…Have you heard any ta-…” She cut herself off, trying to find the words to say while Tyrion waited patiently for her to find them. “Is it common for dragons to hurt the people they know?”

He could feel the curiosity rear its head, his hunger for anything dragon related overshadowing anything else. “Well, most of what I have read about dragons, are secondhand accounts or speculations of maesters that never got close to any of the Targaryen dragons. Although I do think that it is not out of character for them.”

He stared at her for a moment, studying her face again. “Did Drogon hurt you?”

“No.” Missandei shook her head, her curls bouncing. “It was Rhaegal who snapped at me.”

Her confession made Tyrion´s brows furrow, he had always been told that Drogon had been the bad tempered one. “What happened?”

“I was petting him, then he just…” Again, she trailed off now looking embarrassed, like she was hiding something.

“How big was he?” Tyrion had a suspicion as to why the dragon had snapped at the woman.

“Bigger than a large horse. Why?”

Tyrion looked into the cup he was holding in his hand, swirling the wine before meeting her eyes once again. “Did you try and mount him?”

Her rapidly whitening face made Tyrion sure that he had been correct in his assumption, he really could not blame her, who did not want to ride a dragon?

She shook her head again, this time more forcefully. “No, no I did not. I was only petting his neck and must have gotten so distracted by his pretty scales, they are like emeralds you see. I got close to his shoulder and then he…”

He held up his hand and placed his cup of wine on the table. “Lady Missandei, if you say that you did not try and mount Rhaegal, then I believe you.” He did not.

It was painfully obvious to him that she was lying. Why else would Rhaegal have reacted in such a manner if she had not been trying to do something that he did not want her to do? Tyrion doubted that if she had spent a large amount of time with the dragons, they would not start snapping at her without a reason.

Tyrion understood her desire to ride a dragon and he could understand her fear of him knowing that she had tried to mount one of Queen Daenerys´s dragons.

There was no question in his mind that Daenerys Targaryen would not suffer another dragonrider, even if said dragonrider was one of her most trusted adviser and friend.

He doubted that the thought of Rhaegal, who according to Missandei had been larger than a horse, could carry a rider had occurred to the Queen of the bay of Drogon.

However, Tyrion knew her to be wrong if she had thought the green dragon was too small. Missandei was not a large woman and did not weigh a lot. Making it possible for Rhaegal to carry her at the time, just like Moondancer had carried Baela Targaryen.

“Thank you for believing me, Lord Tyrion.” She was still pale and there was a fearful look on her face. “Could you please not tell anyone of this? I do not want anyone to think…”

Again, she trailed off not knowing what to say. Tyrion only waved his hand. “There is nothing to tell, you petted a dragon, who was having a bad day. That is all.”

He sent her a smile, knowing full well that it would do nothing to reassure her. Tyrion started to question her about how they could start to get the freed men and woman to work, even though Missandei seemed to throw herself into the work, Tyrion could see the dark cloud of suspicion hang over her head.

The seed was planted, now Tyrion would have to wait and see if it would bear fruit.

Chapter Text

JAIME

The beating of drums made his stomach take a leap as sounds of war horns caused energy to rush through his veins. It was as if the men of the North and Vale were trying to drown out the sounds of the Red Fork and the Tumblestone, yet not entirely succeeding.

Standing beside his aunt, in the morning sun outside the sandstone walls of Riverrun, waiting for the son of Rhaegar Targaryen to arrive with the lords that had declared for him; Jaime glanced behind at the men at his side.

The lords of the West were all gathered around him, horror painting their faces as they stared at the massive army rallying in the distance.

Jaime could hear Lord Crakehall grumble angerly. “We should fight them; they may have the numbers but we have bravery.”

Not one of the lords made a sound of agreement at the large man´s words, Bronn even snorted loudly. “Sure we can, you go first, we´ll wait here.”

Jaime bit his tongue to keep from sighing at the sellsword and turned back to the army of Jon Targaryen. Feeling a nervous tingle run through his hands, even the one that had been cut off. Clearing his throat, he looked at the table where a stout servant woman with thick brown curls was placing cups and jugs of wine.

Running his eyes over the chairs, he hoped that they had enough chairs for the lords on both sides.

As soon as the thought had entered his mind, Jaime frowned heavily. Not too long-ago the second born of Tywin Lannister would not have cared enough to think that all the lords of note would have seats, just opting for war, knowing it was the only thing he was good at.

Now, however, with the loss of his hand, the fact that their army was vastly depleted and exhausted and that the Northern Targaryen might have dragons; had forced him to take the harder route.

A sharp sting cut through his left hand forced him to look down. It was then he noticed that a small golden flake had worked its way under his fingernail as he had been unconsciously picking at his metal hand.

Jaime tried to dislodge the flake with his thumb but only succeeded in digging it deeper. Resisting the urge to hiss at the pain, he turned his attentions on the opposing army again.

Banners from the Northern houses, many of the knights of the Vale, the Tully´s of Riverrun and Mallister´s of Seagard reached to the sky like colorful trees. Even the two towers of house Frey appeared among the others, causing Emmon to grow even paler than before.

Although, for every banner of a lord who had declared for Rhaegar´s son, two flew in the crisp autumn air, bearing the three headed dragon of house Targaryen.

A tug pulled at him, seeing the black and red banner again.

It was almost like he was back in the Red Keep, following prince Rhaegar around, or standing guard in the castle garden while Queen Rhaella talked with her ladies and princess Elia, as little Rhaenys played with her black cat.

Jaime pressed his thumb at where the flake had dug itself under his nail purposefully, to distract himself from the painful memories.

Suddenly, the drums and war horns fell silent. The only thing that Jaime could hear, was the whispering of the lords around him, the neighing of horses and the din of the rivers. He shifted from right to left, watching a small part of the Northern army break of from the main host. Now, there would be no going back.

“Where are the dragons?” Emmon demanded, seemingly having forgotten his fear of the army before them and the implications of the fact that house Frey was now on the side of Rhaegar´s son. “I do not see them, where are they?”

“Perhaps the boy is keeping them away.” Lord Banefort suggested, sounding hopeful.

“Why? Why would he do that?” Addam Marbrand asked the older man. “That would be foolish.”

Jaime did not listen to what lord Banefort said in reply, opting to watching the small party riding closer to them.

As the delegation trotted their way, the lords around him grew more and more nervous. Jaime, on the other hand was being pulled deeper and deeper into his thoughts; every single one of them revolving around the boy claiming to be the last dragon´s son.

Was he really Rhaegar´s son? Or had the rumors been wrong? Did he have dragons?

The thoughts swirled around in his head as he stared at the men coming towards them. Jaime turned green eyes to the sky above, feeling his heart leap into his throat while looking for any presence of dragons. The undeniable proof that the boy making his way to them, was indeed of the Blood of the Dragon.

However, no matter how hard he looked at the sky, no dragons appeared. It did not offer any reassurance or calm the Westerlords; in fact, the lack of dragons seemed to make the men around him even more nervous than before.

Swallowing hard, Jaime turned back to where the other party was nearing them. It was not very large, only about a hundred men strong and following them was a small wagon being dragged by two strong looking dreys. 

For the briefest of moments, Jaime wondered why they were dragging a cart with them to a peace negotiation. Those thought lingered only fleetingly in his mind as the desire to see Rhaegar´s second son and heir was stronger than his curiosity about the wagon.

Would Jon Targaryen be anything like the silver prince? Or was he just a copy of the former Lord of Winterfell? Jaime pressed where the flake was digging under his fingernail again. The knight was not sure if they could reach an agreement if the boy was just Eddard Stark come again.

The late lord of Winterfell´s condemning eyes were hard to forget as the man had believed him guilty before even hearing why Jaime had cut down the Mad King. Would the boy he was now to meet be as filled with judgement as the man who had raised him?

“How many men do you think they have?” Lord Westerling spoke up nervously, wringing his hands together as he stared ahead.

“I think that it matters more if he has dragons or not.” Bronn´s usual snide seemingly more forced than normally.

“He has dragons.” Emmon cried. “He has to have dragons; the boy could not have taken the Twins without them.”

“Perhaps your father let them in.” Lord Crakehall growled at the smaller man, turning his bulk towards the sniveling fool. “Perhaps he wanted to make a deal with the boy.”

The accusation sounded so ridiculous that Jaime wanted to groan and burry his face in his hand, instead he was forced to speak up. “My lord, Old Walder Frey was many things but I do not think that he would be mad enough to try and force a deal with lords of the North, nor the kinsman of the man he butchered at a wedding.”

The lord of Crakehall looked ready to protest but thankfully kept his silence; preferring to stare angerly at Jaime instead. The larger man had been growing more and more difficult in the days leading up to the negotiations and a part of Jaime would not have been surprised, if the proud lord would have been gone from Riverrun at dawn, taking his men with him.

The man had been a fierce opponent of the decision that Jaime had taken, wanting rather to wage war against Jon Targaryen and his lords.

Silence fell over the men of the West as they all watched the nearing delegation. It was if every man around him had turned into a statue and the very air was teeming with tension that seemed to grow as the other party neared them.

Jaime looked over the group approaching them, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rhaegar´s son and heir.

Jaime did not have to search for long, as a tall figure on a black horse rode at the front and beside him was an enormous, white creature that at first, he thought was a small horse. Then as they moved closer, he realized what it was.

“Is that a…?” Genna whispered faintly, her face turning as white as the beast´s fur.

“Yes, it is a direwolf.” Jaime confirmed remembering the terrifying grey beast the Stark boy had always had by his side.

“Fucking hells, that thing is huge.” Bronn spoke behind him, letting a few curse words when he saw the direwolf.

“There are two of them.” Jaime was startled by Genna´s words, having been too busy staring at the white beast. He found her to be right, another wolf, not as impressive in size and covered in dark grey fur was traveling with what Jaime thought was a skinny boy that was granted the honor of traveling beside his King. The boy was dressed in Stark colors and from this distance, Jaime thought that the lad had the coloring of the North. Was this the new lord of Winterfell, Rickon Stark?

His eyes were drawn back to the tall figure riding at the head of the column and as they rode closer, Jaime found himself unable to tear his eyes from the tall figure that he was sure was the man claiming to be Rhaegar´s son.

As the young man and his lords neared the Lannister delegation, a sound that made Jaime´s blood freeze in his veins, came from high in the sky.

It was a strange sound, unearthly and somewhere between a screech and a roar making the muscles in his body stiffen in reaction to it.

Then the knight spotted them.

They flew in from the North, wings beating like thunder in the sky. One was the color of fresh fallen snow and the other who was vastly larger was covered in beautiful emerald scales.

Jaime watched awestruck as they effortlessly glided through the air. The dragons flew overhead, the white dragon snapping at the heels of the green one and for a horrifying moment he thought that they would start fighting above them.

If the two dragons would start battling, then the son of Tywin Lannister was sure that there would be heavy casualties on both sides when they landed in the crossfire.

Jaime stood, spellbound as the green dragon flew higher in the air and then suddenly went limp, like a mummer´s puppet that had its strings cut and started to plummet to the ground, only to spread his wings and shoot off higher in the sky; the white one still on his tail.

The emerald dragon let out a shriek that much to Jaime´s astonishment, he could only describe as joyful.

As the sounds of the two enormous dragons echoed all around him, the realization hit him, they were not fighting, they were playing.

The two creatures that could and likely would lay waste to armies, were playing in the air above the two armies.

A part of him was shocked to his core that dragons would ever play like children. Every time he imagined the beasts that Aegon Targaryen had used to conquer the Seven Kingdoms; Jaime had thought them nothing more than fire-breathing monsters.

However, seeing them with his own eyes, Jaime knew that he might be forced to reevaluate his beliefs on dragons.

 “My lords, my lady.” A soft voice carried over to them, making Jaime´s attention snap from the dragons to the Targaryen party had stopped in front of them; having closed the distance without the Westermen having noticed them as they had been too distracted by the dragons.

A young man had spoken, most likely a squire, dressed in a neat black doublet as a soft smile spread over his face. “May I introduce King Jon of house Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals, the Roynar and the First men, lord of the Seven Kingdoms, protector of the Realm and defender of the Faith.”

Silence hung over the gathering for a moment as Jon Targaryen´s dark eyes observed them for a moment, before he dismounted from the black warhorse. As soon as the new King started to dismount, his lords rushed after him to do the same.

The slender boy who had given the introduction, grabbed the reins of the King´s horse, as the son of Rhaegar walked over to Jaime, with the large white direwolf following, staying firmly at his side.

Watching the young man approach them, Jaime felt like the earth was trying to drag him down to it´s depths.

He felt like a fool, now knowing the truth of the young man´s parentage. How come he had not seen the similarities between Rhaegar and his son? It was like seeing Rhaegar stand before him again with only superficial differences like hair and eye color.

Then, his green eyes were drawn to a figure in white that stood right behind the Targaryen King. A part of him thought it should not have been surprising to find himself staring at Ser Brynden Tully, clad in the pure white cloak of the Kingsguard that was pinned with a black, leaping trout at his throat.

Jaime had never thought of the older knight as a candidate for the Kingsguard but seeing him now, the man looked the very image of the Kingsguard of old. The Blackfish would not have looked out of place beside Ser Barristan the Bold and Ser Arthur Dayne.

“Thank you all for meeting us, my lords.” The young King spoke, dragging Jaime from his thoughts of the Kingsguard as the young man placed his hand in the direwolf´s fur, who was staring at the men before him with the same calculating look as his master.

The two dragons made another pass overhead, causing the lords of the West jumped a little in surprise. Jaime, on the other hand was too busy studying the young man´s face, looking for any similarities between father and son.

An elbow landed in his side, making him look to his aunt, who was sending a glare his way that said: get on with it. “Thank you for coming your grace.” It was hard not to look at the Westerlords, who no doubt would not like it that Jaime had called the young man, your grace. “May I offer you a seat.”

Jaime gestured to the chairs that they had set up around the long table. It was like weight had been lifted off his shoulders when Rhaegar´s son accepted the offer with a nod of his head. Jaime took the seat facing the young man, now feeling truly out of his depth.

The lords all sat down as servants poured wine into glasses for them to drink, which hopefully would calm everyone´s nerves. The lords who had arrived with Rhaegar´s son looked at the mugs with distrust, prompting Jaime to reach for the one that had been placed before him and take a swig of it.

Ser Brynden leaned over the King´s shoulder, to reach for the cup in front of his King but before he could pick it up, the young boy who had ridden by the King´s side, grabbed it and took a large mouthful of the wine.

Jaime´s green eyes stared at the boy, who did not even hesitate to check if the contents had been poisoned, ready to risk his life for his King.

Was this the sort of devotion that Jon Targaryen commanded among his people?

Taking in the boy´s appearance as he removed the mug from his lips, while everyone watched on in silence, Jaime noted again that the lad was wearing colors of house Stark and had the dark hair and grey eyes paired with the long face of the lords of Winterfell.

He did not recall much about the Stark children when he had visited Winterfell, though the more he thought about it, he did remember feeling smug that none of the Stark boys had the Northern look, except for the perceived bastard of Winterfell.

The only other child that had looked like Eddard Stark was…

“Arya Stark?” The name slipped from his mouth as she handed her cousin the mug, as the puzzle pieces that in his astonishment Jaime had not known existed, fell into place.

The colors of house Stark, the look of the North and the smaller grey direwolf for the Seven´s sake all screamed out the girl´s identity.

“Aye.” The missing Stark girl´s face did not betray any emotion in a way that Jaime could never hope to emulate. The girl did not say anything else, taking a seat beside her cousin, as the King took the mug with a dark eyebrow raised in her direction.

Ser Brynden sent the girl a look of tired resignation as the young King took a sip of the wine his cousin had only just reassured herself and the lords around them, was not poisoned.

The anxiety in the air seemed to lessen to a degree, now that the King´s lords knew that Jaime was not trying to poison him. Despite the lessening tensions, Jaime was not sure where to start. He opened his mouth to say something, only to close it again.

He had been trained to be a warrior and a knight, not as a negotiator or a diplomat.

“So, it is true.” Lord Crakehall whispered, his bolstering of Western courage forgotten as his eyes were still locked on the dragons, playing in the sky. “You have large dragons.”

“Aye.” The King replied, his face giving nothing away as he looked at the lord of Crakehall.

“But…but...but…that is impossible…” The large man´s eyes flew between the young King and his dragons in the sky with such speed that Jaime started to worry about the man growing dizzy.

“Yet here we are.” Arya Stark replied as hard to read as her cousin.

“Is it true that you called them to you from Essos, your grace?” Genna asked, curiosity replacing the shock that she must have felt along with the rest of them. “We heard that they were hatched by Daenerys Targaryen but they came all the way here to be with you.”

King Jon turned his dark eyes to where Genna was seated, while the King´s eyes were a different color than that of Rhaegar´s, they held intelligence that Jaime knew that the dragon prince had possessed, however there was something there, that had never been in the silver prince’s gaze.

“They did indeed come to me from Essos my lady, from Meereen to be exact and they were hatched by my aunt, Daenerys Targaryen.”

His answer seemed to make the Westerlords even more jittery than they had been before. “Does she know about you?” Genna asked again, leaning a little forward in her chair. “Did she perhaps send them to you, hoping for an alliance?”

The King´s keen eyes were fixed on Genna´s green ones. “I cannot answer to what my father´s sister knows or does not know. But we did not gather here today to discuss my family, rather to try and come to a favorable agreement for all of us. However, before we start, there is something I would like to show you.” The King turned and gestured at one of his lords.

Jaime´s eyes turned to see what was going on, now noticing a large man with wild red hair who was spotting a mad grin on his face near the wagon that the Northern delegation had with them.

The red headed man and a couple of guards rushed to open the wagon he had noticed before and drag a wooden crate out of it.

Jaime watched bewildered at the wooden crate that the King thought was so important to start their talks with.

The red headed man, who looked like he belonged in the stories of the Wildlings of the North ordered the men to place the crate a few feet away from the table where the lords were seated. The lords of the North and the Vale looked like they were fighting to keep a calm demeanor around them but most where failing, looking more like they wanted to inch away from it.

As the young King nodded at his men to open the wooden box, Jaime felt himself lean forward along with the other Westerlanders, his green eyes stared at the crate, left hand gripping harder on the armrest of the chair. The knight felt the hairs on the back of his head rise as he had to force the phantom hand from traveling to the sword strapped to his hip.

Then the crate shook, like something was raging at being locked inside it. The noise was almost enough to make Jaime forget about the dragons flying in the air above them. Almost.

The wild haired man grabbed onto a chain that led directly into the crate, before he kicked it over, allowing the wooden box to fall to its side, it´s lid falling off.

Out fell what Jaime thought was a heap of black rags and rotting flesh. 

For a horrifying moment, the older son of Tywin Lannister thought that Jon Targaryen had brought one of the Northern men killed in the massacre of the Twins, to throw it in their faces. However, when Jaime spotted no colors of sigils anywhere among the black rags, his eyes flew to where Rhaegar´s son was sitting.

There was no change in the young King as he stared at the heap, he remained as stoic as he had been since he arrived but Jaime noticed that the young girl, Arya Stark leaned an inch forward, as if to shield her cousin from any harm that might befall him from the pile of clothing.

“What is thi-.” Whatever Emmon Frey started to say was lost when the dark figure jumped up with a piercing scream and charged at them.

Jaime, along with the other lords of the West jumped to their feet as one, hands finding the hilts of their swords, while some even tumbled backwards over their chairs in the rush to get away from the thing, before the creature was yanked back by the chain that had been wrapped around its throat and chest.

It looked like a man who had been dead for some time and the smell that waved off it was enough to confirm what his eyes saw true.

The creature´s arms reached out, trying it´s best to grab at them with its gnarly fingers, black rags were hanging, rotting along with the body while dead milky white eyes promised them death if it got close enough.

“This, my lords,” The King spoke evenly as if the corpse was not even there. “was once a brother of the Night´s Watch. His name was Wick Whittlestick and he served as a steward of the Night´s Watch.”

“That is…what…that thing…” Lord Banefort tried to put what he had seen into words but could not find them.

“Aye, that is a dead man.” The young man confirmed easily, still sitting down beside his own lords while the men of the West were all standing, still staring at the horror that the Targaryen men were trying to shove back into its home.

“That cannot be.” Gasped Addam Marbrand, still staring at the dead man who was being shoved back into the crate.

“Do you want to take a closer look?” Asked a Northerner with a sigil of a grey hand on white.  “We cannot promise you that your face will remain intact if you come too close.” His words caused a few of the lords of Jon Targaryen to snigger but they quickly stopped when the young King sent them a stern look.

Even though only Genna remained seated on their side, she was by no means unaffected by the thing they had seen. Her eyes were wide with fear and her knuckles white as she gripped onto the armrests of her chair.

“A dead man?” Genna asked, fighting to keep her voice from shaking as Jaime slowly sat back down, now that the King´s men were dragging that thing away from them.

As the King told his story, Jaime Lannister could only stare dumbstruck at the younger man. The tale the King wove was unbelievable at best and without the proof of his words, Jaime would have scoffed, while the lords of the West would have called Rhaegar´s son a liar.

Jaime had never been a man to believe such tall tales. However, the proof had stared him directly in the eyes, the dead were rising beyond the Wall and with them would come the long night.

“How can…” Jaime started only to stop and fall silent for a moment before starting again. “Can we defeat them?”

“Aye, we can.” King Jon nodded, his sharp eyes staring into Jaime´s, making the older man feel like an experiment before a maester once again. “Although we stand the best chance if we stand together.”

Jaime was not sure how they could fight creatures made of ice that raised the dead, but if they wanted to have any chance of surviving, they had to make peace and join with the man before him.

“This matter concerns us all, not just the people closest to the Wall, for if the dead manage to get through, then it might already be too late for us all.” The King continued stern faced in a manner more alike Eddard Stark rather than prince Rhaegar. “At Hardhome, beyond the Wall, we saw them cut through any barricade that had been put in their path; only to massacre anything that they came across, children, mothers, warriors or the infirm alike. It does not matter to them.”

Eyes the color of Valyrian steel observed the silent audience before them before Jon Targaryen continued. “They do not care if we are Starks, Lannisters or Targaryen. Highborn or smallfolk, they will kill us all the same, before raising our corpses to fight for them until there is nothing living in this world.”

“But before we can do that,” Genna spoke in a low whisper, her green eyes never leaving the King. “We must come to terms.”

“Aye.” The King nodded. “First, we want you to give up the castle of Riverrun, to be handed back to lord Edmure Tully. Secondly, we want you to send every common soldier back to the Westerlands, after they have been disarmed, to tend to the fields and to hopefully get one more harvest before winter comes.”

Grumbling met the King´s words and Ser Addam paled. “You want us to send more than half of our army West?”

“Aye, it is imperative for every available hand to be working in the fields for the upcoming winter. For we do not know how long it will last, we will be fighting a war to the North and supply lines must hold.”

Glancing to where Emmon was sitting beside his wife, Jaime could see the horror on the man´s face; clearly more horrified that he had to give up Riverrun than the fact that more than half of the Lannister army would be heading back West and disarmed. “Of course, Riverrun will be handed back to lord Tully.” Jaime kept his voice even as he leaned back to send Emmon Frey a fixed stare when the man looked ready to protest or worse, demand something in return for the castle. The weasel like man looked like he had been slapped when he saw the look on the face of the older son of Tywin Lannister.

When the man was sufficiently cowed, Jaime directed his words once again to the King before him. “The lords of the West had nothing to do with the Red Wedding, it was my father´s plan, along with that of Old Walder Frey and Roose Bolton.”

The young man stared at Jaime and once again he had to wonder what that was, hiding behind his eyes that had never been in Rhaegar´s indigo ones.

Arya Stark leaned towards her cousin and whispered something in the man´s ear. Whatever she had to say to him, had the new Targaryen King´s full attention. Try as he might, Jaime could not begin to fathom what went on between the cousins, he could only hope that it would be in his favor.

If negotiations broke down and it came to war between them, he was sure that it would not end in Lannister victory. The King´s mount was enough to end any resistance from the war weary Westerlanders, if Jaime was forced to try and get the men to make formations, he was sure that most would drop their weapons and run for their lives before trying to defend their lords.

“What we have learned from the trials held at the Crossing, does tell the same story.” The young King spoke calmly, surprising Jaime once again. “After all, it would have been hard for lords Tywin, Frey and Bolton to keep their plans secret if every lord under their command knew what they had in the works.”

Jaime thought he could hear some of the lords by his side let out breaths of relief. It would not surprise him if they did.

“Thank you, your grace.” Genna spoke up, trying to hide her relief at the man´s words.

As Jon Targaryen nodded, Jaime could see Ser Brynden behind him almost puff up with pride, not from Genna´s words, Jaime was sure, rather because of how reasonable and calm the King was proving himself to be when dealing with those who should have been his enemies.

“That being said.” As the King spoke again. “There is still the issue with your sister and her son in King´s Landing.”

He had known that this would be a concern with the young man in front of him, any King coming to claim their throne did not want any competition for it, in any shape or form. Cersei meanwhile, would not give the crown up so easily and she would fight tooth and nail against any who threatened to take the Iron throne away from her.

“We have heard that she burned the Sept of Baelor down, in wildfire.” Lord Royce spoke up for the first time, his hard eyes on Jaime. “If that is indeed true, then she must answer for it as well.”

Jaime thought it was strange at first that they were concerned with Cersei when the dead things were gathering beyond the Wall, although the more he thought about it, it really was not all that bizarre. The lords of Jon Targaryen would not like to have Cersei scheming their downfall in King’s Landing, while they were risking their lives in the North, fighting for the people of Westeros.

“We have heard that you held trials for the Freys of Riverrun.” Genna spoke, face pulled into a worried frown. “Will you be holding trials for Cersei as well?”

“Aye.” Jon Targaryen nodded. “Everyone standing accused of crimes must stand trial.”

He felt his aunt relax beside him and he could hear the low sigh of relief she let out, hearing that at least there would be a trial for Cersei.

“And what about Tommen?” Jaime blurted out, feeling fear for the boy´s safety. He might not have been a father to him as the boy had been growing up, nor thought much about Tommen or considered him his son as Cersei had been adamant that Jaime have nothing to do with the children.

Now, though Jaime would do everything in his power to protect his last living child, even if it meant fighting dragons.

“Aye, what about young Tommen?” Dark grey eyes stared into his. Genna´s words that day in the solar of the lord of Riverrun ringing in Jaime’s mind.

Jaime looked at his lords. They might not like what he was about to do but they would have to live with it, he had to save little Tommen. His son was only eight and completely innocent in all of this.

“Tommen has no claim on the Iron throne.” Jaime fought to keep his voice as carefree and arrogant as he had used to. “He is not Robert Baratheon´s son but mine.”

Even though everyone had known it for years now, speaking the truth for everyone to hear felt alien.

Jaime risked looking at Ser Brynden Tully. The man´s brushy eyebrows rose high on his forehead, as if he did not believe what Jaime had just done.

In one fell swoop, Jaime had taken away all claim the Lannisters had on the Iron throne and stomped on his father´s legacy and then spit on it.

That did not matter anymore, his father was dead and Jaime needed to save Tommen.

Cersei could go and hang for all he cared.

“That does simplify matters.” Ser Brynden spoke, his gravelly voice cutting through the air of disbelieve around them.

“Indeed, it does.” Lord Edmure stared spitefully at the one handed knight. “Although I expected you to use your sister´s claim that he was Robert Baratheon´s son to further your own interest.”

Jaime had to bite his tongue to keep from spitting out a snarky comment, he knew that it would not end well from him, especially when he had threatened lord Edmure that if he did not give up the castle of Riverrun, he would catapult the man´s son at the walls.

Years of serving in the Kingsguard of Aerys Targaryen and then Robert Baratheon had trained him in how to watch his tongue when he needed it, even if it always felt unnatural for him to do so.

Instead, he directed his words to the son of prince Rhaegar. “Your grace, I am willing to write to the lords of the realm to tell them that Tommen is indeed my son and therefore has no claim on the Iron throne.”

“And in return?” Lady Arya asked, a hint of playfulness in her tone that Jaime was not sure if he had imagined or not.

Jaime glanced at where his aunt was seated, she gave him the barest hint of a nod, telling him to continue. “I would ask that Tommen be made legitimate and become a Lannister and the new lord of Casterly Rock.”

The white wolf beside the King, tilted his head as he stared at Jaime like he was wondering if he had heard him right, the movement looking out of place on something that could easily rip of his head without much effort.

The King however, continued to look at Jaime with an unreadable expression on his face. As the King studied him, Jaime felt torn between hope and worry. He, like many other of the Westerlords had felt hope when they had heard that Jon Targaryen had not in fact killed every Frey in sight when he had taken the Twins and allowed young Brian Frey to take up the mantle of the new lord of the Crossing.

Would Rhaegar´s son be as understanding towards the Westerlanders and little Tommen?

Silence stretched on as the King only stared at Jaime, making the older son of Tywin Lannister feel like a young boy again. “Tommen is not like Joffrey.” He was sure that everyone stiffened at the very mention of the elder of his sons. “He is good and kind, there is not a malicious bone in his body.”

“My nephew speaks true, your grace.” Genna spoke up when the silence continued. “Tommen is nothing like his older brother.”

“Aye, I have heard as much.” Jon Targaryen eyes seemed to soften a bit when he broke his silence. “My wife, Queen Sansa told me that young Tommen likes kittens, lemon cakes and is as sweet as any child can be.”

The lords of the new Targaryen King did not seem to react, rather they seemed calm and collected. Even Edmure Tully, who hated Jaime with every fiber of his being, did not protest what could be happening.

“If you announce to every lord and lady in the realm that young Tommen is indeed your son and has no claim on the Iron throne, then I see no problem with him taking the Lannister name and becoming the new lord of Casterly Rock.” The young King spoke calmly before taking a sip of wine.

Jaime felt the hope rise in him but that rise was put to a halt at the King´s next words. “Young Tommen will of course have to be a ward of the Crown until he is old enough to take up rule over the Westerlands.”

The lords around the Targaryen King nodded, looking at Jaime, knowing that he would not have much of a choice in the matter.

“And you will have to give yourself up as a hostage, to make sure your family does not rise up against us again.” Jaime had known that he would not walk free away from this meeting, it had been in the back of his mind, ever since the messenger had arrived at Riverrun.

“I do not suppose I have much choice in the matter.” Jaime found himself failing badly at sounding snide, rather his tone sounded resigned at what would be happening in only a few moments. “But I ask that my aunt Genna be named the regent of the Westerlands and Casterly Rock, until Tommen comes of age.”

The young King stared at him with an impassive look on his face as Jaime found himself pressing on the injured finger discreetly, feeling the sharp pain rush up his hand.

“A woman?” Lord Crakehall gasped, shocked at Jaime´s request. “Lord Jaime, you want a woman to rule the West for the next few years?”

Every Westerlander was staring at him wide eyed, even Genna had turned to look at him in shock. However, Jaime ignored them all in favor of looking at the son of Rhaegar, waiting for him to say anything.

“Why should a woman not serve as a regent?” Jon Targaryen asked, stone faced as he stared the lord of Crakehall down.

Every soul around the table had gone completely still as the young King waited for an answer, even the stout servant wench who had been serving wine.

“What about lord Tyrion?” A voice piped up, making everyone turn to a man clad in the colors of house Corbray. “He is next in line to inherit Casterly Rock, he comes before a bastard born of incest.”

“Lord Tyrion stands accused of being a kinslayer.” Lord Royce spoke calmly while sending the younger man a hard look. “He cannot rule the West without standing trial.”

“We do not know if Tyrion did kill Tywin.” As Genna defended Jaime´s brother, he felt torn in two. A part of him wanted nothing more than jump to his brother´s defense and yet…

“Lord Royce, lady Genna.” Rhaegar´s son placed his hand in the white wolf´s fur again, his eyes thoughtful and dark. “You are both right. We must find the truth of the matter, however until we can ascertain if lord Tyrion is truly guilty or innocent of this crime, young Tommen will become the next lord of Casterly Rock.”

The silence brought on by those words was only broken by the beating of leathery wings above them before the King broke the silence again. “Is that agreeable to everyone?”

Relief flooded Jaime as everyone seemed to agree, some happily while others reluctantly, knowing that there was no real choice in the matter.

“Now, there is one last matter we need to discuss before we continue.” Jon Targaryen´s northern accent cut through the air as his cousin sat straighter in her chair. “Where is the location of the bones of my uncle, Lord Eddard Stark and the other half of the ancestral sword Ice?”

The feeling that gripped Jaime was what he imagined the ice monsters that were marching on the Wall brought with them. “Your grace,” Jaime swallowed and pressed once again on the gold flake under his fingernail. “I cannot say where the bones of lord Stark are located but…”

Slowly rising to his feet, Jaime unfastened the sword that hung on the belt around his hips and handed it to the King, where he sat, staring at the blade in Jaime´s hand. “This is the other half of the sword.”

Jon Targaryen stood up, everyone quickly following his lead, as the son of the last dragon reached for the sword Jaime´s first born child had called Widow´s Wail.

The young man took the sword and slowly pulled the blade out of it´s sheath, revealing the black and red Valyrian steel. An unbidden thought entered Jaime´s mind, that the blade matched the crown of Aegon the Conqueror perfectly, if the golden lion head pummel was changed into a black dragon with ruby eyes.

The Targaryen King studied the weapon in his hands as everyone seemed to hold their breath. “Thank you, Ser Jaime.” There was a faraway glint in Jon Targaryen´s eyes as he put the sword back in it´s sheath. “Does it have a name?”

A lump formed in his throat as every eye was now on him, forcing it down with a swallow, Jaime made up his mind. “No, I don´t believe so.”

A hint of a smile tugged at King Jon´s lips before he attached the sword to his belt before he sat down again with everyone following. “Shall we discuss the details of our agreement?”

Jaime scratched at the gold flake with his thumb again as he agreed and was forced to conceal his shock when the chip slid from under his nail, the sharp pain dulling into a throb.

For hours they discussed, argued and negotiated the details of their agreement and when the sun was setting in the west, as the sky was turning pink and purple the servants came to remove the table.

As they stood in the dying light of the sun, Jaime took a deep breath as he watched the black and red banners of house Targaryen fly in the sky, under the beating wings of the King´s dragons. Under his King´s dragons.

When his knee hit the grass covered ground, it was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and as he swore his fidelity to the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, he hoped that tonight he might be free from sorrowful indigo eyes.

Chapter Text

JON

With a sigh Jon adjusted the collar of his black leather armour as he stared despondently at his reflection in the looking glass.

Feeling more like a child playing at being a high lord, Jon wondered if Robb had felt the same way when he had stayed in the very same room here at Riverrun during his stay.

It was a strange feeling, staying in a room that Robb had once inhabited. A room where his mother´s father had picked out for his own grandson. A son of the woman who had spent her days hating Jon with as much dedication as she could.

Jon had expected lord Edmure to have treated him in a similar way as lady Stark had once did.

Much to his surprise, the lord of Riverrun did not treat him with any hate or dislike at all, rather lord Edmure seemed determined to get Jon to like him as much as possible.

A part of Jon would have preferred hate and dislike. At least he knew how to handle that.

Shaking his head of the thought, he turned his eyes from the looking glass and strode over to the desk and gabbed Longclaw, who had been resting against the heavy oak table and fastened the sword to his belt.

It would do him no good, wallowing in the past. He had a duty which needed to be performed, a duty to make peace if possible, so they could head North again and fight against the Others and the dead.

“Your grace.” Satin muffled voice carried through the thick wooden door, before the younger man slid into the room. “It is time, the lords are gathered in the hall.”

Resigning himself to his fate with as much dignity as he could muster, Jon nodded and turned on his heel. Ghost, who had been lying by the hearth while gnawing at a bone, followed his lead; looking almost as displeased as Jon.

Striding out of the room, Jon gave a nod to Ser Brynden, who had been standing guard outside of the door.

As the Blackfish fell into step with them, Jon found himself thinking that they needed to start looking for more volunteers for the Kingsguard. If only to give the older man some reprieve.

With the workload Ser Brynden was taking on as the sole whitecloak, the man was likely to kill himself from sheer exhaustion if he did not have more men to share the burden with.

“Ser Brynden, have you noticed any potential recruits for the Kingsguard?”

At the question, the knight’s brushy eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “I have indeed, your grace. Ser Edric Strong is loyal and a capable fighter. I think that he would be an excellent choice.”

Nodding, Jon found himself agreeing with Ser Brynden. Ser Edric was a good choice and the young knight had followed him from the Wall and had done an excellent job with the fortifications and the manning of Winterfell. Even if Ser Edric was not a renowned fighter, the man was very capable and Jon much preferred the men guarding his back to be loyal rather than legends.

He had learned his lesson after all.

“We should speak with him at the earliest opportunity, make the offer at least.”

“I will send word that you want to speak with him.” Satin offered.

Jon only managed a quick thank you to his steward, before they arrived at the entrance of the great hall of Riverrun.

The loud cheering and celebrating could be heard through the thick oak doors, then as soon as the doors were opened and Jon made his way into the hall, it fell abruptly silent for a moment, before the lords of the North and the Vale erupted into louder cheers.

Feeling Ghost lean his bulk against his side, Jon buried his hand into the white wolf´s fur, as they made their way to the high table.

Glancing at where the lords of the West had chosen to sit, Jon noticed that most of them clapped politely, much to his surprise.

Taking his seat, next to Arya and lord Edmure, the lord of Riverrun greeted him cheerfully. “Your grace, I have gotten news, the lords of the Riverlands have all sent word that they are heading our way to throw their strength to ours.”

As soon as he had spoken, Jon became aware of movement behind him. Turning his head to see what was happening, Jon spotted the serving woman with curly brown hair tumbling around her shoulders being spoken to softly by Ser Brynden. “There is no need, the King´s steward will see to the King´s cup.”

The woman was pale with fear and nodded and hurried away, as to put as much distance between her and the knight.

Turning his attentions back to the lord of Riverrun, Jon nodded at the good news.            

The more lords who joined Jon and his lords, the men of the Westerlands would be dissuaded from rebelling and to try and help Cersei Lannister keep the Iron throne.

Jon glanced at the lords of the West again, who were looking rather subdued, most of them looked rather glad to have avoided battle. A sentiment that Jon wholeheartedly agreed with them on.

Glancing to the end of the high table, Jon spotted Ser Jaime, sitting by his aunt´s side as they spoke in low voices.

Jon found himself surprised how much Ser Jaime had changed since they met in Winterfell three years ago. His once golden hair was now streaked with silver and had been chopped close to his head, and his once taunting green eyes now weary and tired.

However, the greatest difference was of course the loss of his sword hand.

Jon remembered meeting Ser Jaime at the forge at Winterfell like it was happening now. How the knight had rested his hand on the pommel of his sword, while smirking at him and trying to get a rise out of him.

At Winterfell, Jon noticed the surprise in the man´s eyes when he failed to do so, and Jon was sure that there was detected a slight shift in the other man´s stance when Jon had only stood there, silent and observing him, waiting to see what he would do when Jon refused to respond.

 The golden lion of house Lannister had looked almost…insecure when no indignant burst of outrage came from Jon, who had long since grown used to the mockery of being called bastard and the one stain of lord Eddard Stark´s honour.

It was difficult to reconcile that this man, who was sitting beside lady Genna was the same man, who had acted more like Theon Greyjoy than a man grown.

Not wanting to ignore his wife´s uncle seated next to him, Jon pushed the pondering over the change in character of the lion of Lannister and turned his attention to lord Tully.

Noticing that lady Tully was not among them, Jon asked lord Edmure. “How are your wife and son fairing?”

The red headed man stared at Jon with wide eyes, before a huge smile broke out on his face. “Oh, they are doing very well, but my wife is still rather exhausted after travelling as she has never left the Twins before, so she chose to stay in her rooms to rest.”

“Of course, I hope she will better soon.”

“Thank you, your grace.”

Feeling the awkward silence creeping in as the conversation seemed to lull. Jon decided to speak again. “Have you chosen a name for your son?”

“Indeed, we have, your grace.” Lord Edmure seemed to fidget in his chair as he grew even more excited. “Roslin and I are going to announce it to the Riverlords when they arrive that we are naming our son, Jon Tully.”

If Jon had been drinking anything, he knew that it would have gone down wrong and he was thankful that the embarrassment of coughing all over the table had been avoided.

“I do not remember any member of house Tully named Jon. Is it perhaps after Jon Arryn?” Hoping that the man would declare that he was naming his son after the late lord of the Eyre, Jon stared at the lord of Riverrun, while trying to tune out Arya´s sniggering.

“No, your grace.” The man did not seem to hear either Arya´s giggling or Jon´s discomfort and continued to speak with a large smile on his face. “We named him after you.”

Hearing Ser Brynden sigh quietly behind him, Jon forced a small smile on his face. “I am honoured, my lord.” Listening to lord Edmure continue to speak about his son, Jon gave Arya a slight kick under the table, hoping that it would make her stop but her soft giggling only continued.

“We had thought to name him Robb, Hoster or Brynden however in the end Roslin and I wanted to show our gratitude to you, your grace. Without you, little Jon might have been dead.”

“Again, I am honoured.” Jon fought to keep still in his chair. “But I have to ask, as lady Mormont was the one to rescue your son, why not name the lad after her?”

This question made Arya stop her sniggering and turn her eyes on her uncle, waiting for an answer.

“We also thought about that but we felt that every name we came up with was too close to Maegor…” The man now looked uncomfortable and took a sip of the wine in front of him.

“Yes, naming one´s son Maegor might be a bit awkward.” Arya leaned forward as she spoke, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable Jon was feeling. “Maybe if you ever have a girl, you can name her Maege.”

Her uncle brightened immediately and nodded, a bright smile stretching across his face. “Yes, that is our plan.”

Thankfully the conversation turned away from the naming of children as Arya asked lord Edmure when the lords of the Riverlands were arriving.

“Hopefully they will arrive any day now.” Lord Edmure declared, turning his eyes to where Jaime Lannister was sitting not far from them. “They will be glad to hear that there will be less Lannisters in the Riverlands.”

Ser Jaime, taking notice that the lord of Riverrun was glaring at him, lifted his cup and sent him a derisive smile.

“I look forward to meeting them.” Jon spoke, wanting to distract lord Edmure from Ser Jaime. Before the man could try and pick a fight with the blond-haired man, Jon leaned forward and spoke to lord Royce, who was sitting on lord Edmure´s other side.

“Lord Yohn, have you heard from lady Waynwood?”

“No, your grace. Not since we left the Vale.” Shaking his head, the older man frowned deeply as a servant came to fill the man´s cup. “Should I send her word?”

“Perhaps that would be wise.” Jon frowned and nodded. “I am sure we would all like to know how lord Arryn is coping.”

“Then I shall send a letter to her tonight, your grace. But may be that her son is having a difficult time travelling through the Vale. The autumn snow and the hill tribes make it hard for the most experienced warriors to travel this time of year.” Lord Royce said, making Ser Brynden hummed in agreement.

Feeling a soft hit on his shoulder, Jon turned and looked at Arya, who was trying to get his attention. “I have to go and meet with a colleague; I will talk to you later.”

Bidding his sister good night, Jon watched her go while thinking that he did not envy the person she was planning to find, as she stalked out of the room, with Darksister at her waist and Nymeria trailing her steps before turning his attention to the conversation back to the lords around him.

For the next few hours Jon felt like he had talked more now than in his first sixteen years of life. It appeared like all the lords wanted to speak to him about one thing or another, even the lords of the West.

The Westerlanders had been led by lord Sebaston Farman, lord of Fair Isle, who was concerned about the raids on the coast by the Ironborn.

While staying in the Riverlands, they had been hounded by letters from any and all settlements close to the Sunset Sea that belonged to the West, their worry was growing by the day and from what they could gather. The Ironfleet was travelling south and taking as many people captive as they could.

The thought of the Ironborn using the lack of fighting men populating the West as an opportunity to raid and enslave all they could, much like they had done when Robb had taken the able-bodied men south from the North, brought forth a white-hot rage, which burned in his veins.

Something needed to be done about Euron Greyjoy and his reavers.

After listening to their concerns, Jon could feel the weariness seep through him and decided to retire to his room, as the information swam through his mind.

Taking his leave, Ghost and Ser Brynden followed his steps, out of the hall as Satin spoke quietly. “Your grace, I received word from Ser Edric, he is ready to meet you now if it please you.”

Nodding, Jon felt grateful that he had not imbibed a lot during the feast. “Aye the sooner we talk to him, the better.”

Jon entered the room he had been assigned to, gesturing for Ser Brynden to follow. They did not have to wait for long, as Satin returned promptly with Ser Edric Strong in tow.

“You wanted to see me, your grace.”

“Aye, thank you for coming Ser.” Jon watched as the Stormlander glanced from Jon to Ser Brynden and then back again, worry filled his eyes. “I was hoping to speak with you about a position that I wanted to offer you.”

“Me? your grace.” The man´s eyes doubled in size as his jaw went slack with surprise.

“Aye, I want to offer you a place on the Kingsguard.”

The silence that fell over the room was only broken by the fire in the hearth and Ghost having returned to gnawing at the bone.

“I understand that this is a big decision for you.” Jon continued as Ser Edric stared at him as if he were about to faint. “You do not have to make it right now, if you want to take a few days or a week or two to consider your options then I completely understand.”

More silence filled the room, before Satin leaned forward. “Ser? Are you well?”

Ser Edric jumped when the steward addressed him and knocking him out of his shock. “I want it.” The man almost yelled before collecting himself. “I do not need any time, your grace. I want to be a member of your Kingsguard.” The smile that broke out on his face was almost blinding.

“Are you sure?” Jon asked, taken aback. “This is a very important decision and I completely understand if you want to take some time to think.”

“I do not need it, your grace. Please, it would be the honour of my life to guard you and your family.”

“In that case, Ser Edric.” Jon rose from his chair, stepped around the desk and asked the man to kneel.

As the knight swore his vow, Jon thought that the man looked like all his dreams had come true at once. Turning to Satin, who had somehow procured a new white cloak while they had not been looking, Jon took it from his steward´s hands and fasted it around Ser Edric´s shoulders. “Rise now, Ser Edric Strong of the Kingsguard.”

Ser Edric rose to his feet. The grin on his face as wide as could be and his eyes shining with happiness.

After congratulating the young knight, Satin led the new kingsguard out of the room, to take his measurements for the armour he would need.

“Five more to go, your grace.” Ser Brynden grinned happily at Jon before striding out of the chamber, leaving Jon and Ghost alone.

Taking his seat again, Jon allowed his thoughts drift to the concerns of the lords of the West. Jon knew that the Ironborn needed to be stopped.

From what he had learned, the Ironborn were traveling south but to where? Were they planning to enslave as many people as they could and sell them on the markets of Essos, now that the cities of Slaver´s bay were not producing any free labour?

A sneaking suspicion lingered in his mind, that Euron Greyjoy was taking an advantage of the fact that the price of slaves would have tripled after the fall of Astapor, Yunkai and Meereen.

A soft knock interrupted Jon for what felt like the hundredth time this night as his steward´s voice broke through his thoughts. “Your grace, lady Arya is here to see you.”

“Send her in.”

His sister entered the room, her face emotionless but there was a slight skip to her step as Nymeria and a servant woman followed her. Recognizing the woman from the start of the feast and from the meeting with the lords of the West, Jon frowned. Why was Arya dragging the woman to talk to him. “Is there something wrong?”

Arya grinned at his words and gestured for the woman to walk forward and stand before his desk. “King Jon of house Targaryen.” Her words were confident and almost playful and there was a glint in her eyes that Jon had seen when she had played a successful prank on Sansa when they had been children. “May I introduce, lord Varys, the spider.”

SAM

The armour he had hastily thrown on before being sent out into the city, chafed at the joints. Even the black leathers of the Night´s watch would have been preferred, despite that the superior quality of what he was currently wearing.

While the armour was not necessary down in this dark and damp cellar, he did not dare to take it off, just in case the need arose for them to make a run for it and dash into the war-torn streets of Oldtown.

Sam had not imagined that he would have any need for his leathers, opting to leave them at Castle Black, thinking that no battles needed to be fought in the city.

How wrong he had been.

Another crash shook the dark cellar, making his heart skip a beat. Everyone stilled and held their breath until the walls stopped shuddering from the assault of the Greyjoy´s.

It took a few moments for Sam to risk moving, his muscles straining from the tension that had seeped into his body as terror gripped him once again.

Taking a deep shaky breath, hoping to calm himself; Sam forced his attention back to the patient that was lying on the ground.

The young boy´s skin had turned grey and the screams of pain had died down. Pressing the blood-soaked rag against the wound on his chest, Sam desperately tried to stop the child from bleeding out.

Sam watched with dread as the boy´s eyes turned glassy as they stared up at the ceiling.

Putting his hand, wet and stained red, from the boy´s lifeblood under the child´s nose, Sam felt his heart contract.

No breath could be felt.

Knowing that nothing more could be done for him, Sam forced himself to stand up and make his way to the washing bowl by the wall, to clean the blood from his hands. As he scrubbed his fingers and listened to the distant thunder of boulders being hurled into the city, Sam felt like the strength in his body was being drained.

Watching as the body was carried away, Sam´s thoughts drifted to all those he had failed to save ever since the Iron born had attacked. How many men had lost their lives fighting against the Iron born? How many women and children had been slaughtered when they had tried to run for shelter?

“Maester, hurry.” A guard in the colours of house Hightower, half carried another man into the dark cellar and placed him on the floor, close to where the boy had died. “He has taken an arrow to the shoulder.”

Nodding, Sam dried his hands, before walking over to the injured man, side stepping another novice from the citadel, who was binding a wound on a guard’s arm. A guard that would be sent back out into the city, to continue fighting.

Kneeling by the injured man who had just been brought in, Sam gestured for the innkeeper´s daughter, Myrna to come over. “Could you get me more wine?” As the girl scurried away, Sam turned to inspect the wound.

Relief washed over him, seeing that the arrowhead had not been pulled out. Sam had grown to hate it when the guards tried to rip out the object that had been lodged into their bodies.

“What is your name?”

“Garret.” The pain in his voice cut at Sam.

“Good, now Garret, I am going to remove the arrowhead so that I can clean and close the wound.” Grabbing a wooden ladle, Sam continued. “It is going to be very painful but it is necessary, so I need you to bite down on this.”

Placing the wood between the man´s teeth; Sam took up the tools necessary to remove the arrow as Myrna came back. As Sam thanked her, she knelt by the guard and placed her small hands on Garret´s chest, to help keep him down during the ordeal he was about to suffer.

As soon as Sam started, Garret began to scream and Sam was sure the wood between the guard´s teeth cracked from the pressure. Myrna was trying to assure Garret that everything would be alright, her words probably going unheard by the guard.

It cut at the soul, listening to the man scream in agony. Agony that Sam was causing.

However, without any milk of the poppy or anything else to dull the pain, it was a sound that Sam knew that he had to suffer through.

When the arrowhead was finally withdrawn from the man´s shoulder, Sam grabbed a piece of cloth and held it against the wound, thankful that his screaming died down. “Myrna, could you hold it here.”

Moving to hold pressure on the injury, her blond braid swung over her shoulder. “Maester Sam.” Her words were quiet, so he barely heard her. “Thank you for allowing me to help.”

Sam offered her a tight smile as he readied the wine and rags. “I should be thanking you. You have been of great help in these last few days.”

After cleaning and sewing the wound shut, Sam gestured for the man to be moved to the corner, so that he could rest, before he was sent back into the city to fight.

Rushing to his next patient, Sam worked alongside the other novices for hours until his eyes were burning. His young helper had crawled into one of the empty corners of the cellar and passed out from exhaustion.

“Sam.” Armen, a young man with a pointy nose and four links in his chain around his throat, spoke in a low voice. “You should go and sleep, you have been awake and working for almost two days.”

A part of Sam, wanted to protest however the acolyte had the right of it. The longer he held out on sleep, the more likely he was to make errors.

Errors neither he nor his patients could afford.

Lumbering over to the other side of the dark cellar. Sam sat down on the stone floor and leaned against the wall. Closing his eyes; Sam felt the exhaustion pull him into a slumber as the sounds of pained moans and the crashing of massive rocks being hurled into buildings.

It felt like he had just fallen asleep, when he was awoken by a guard, slamming the cellar door open.

“EVERYONE WE HAVE TO FALL BACK, THE IRONBORN ARE GAINING GROUND.”

Despite the disorientation and his muddled brain, Sam staggered to his feet. Rushing to gather up as many supplies into a leather satchel.

Myrna stumbled to his side; her terrified brown eyes wide as they scrambled to snatch as many supplies as they could carry. After securing the satchel, Sam grabbed the short sword that he had taken from the armoury and fastened it to his belt.

Turning on his heel, Sam grabbed the nearest wounded man, slung his arm around his shoulders, before rushing up the stairs slowly as the man´s injured leg would not allow them to go any faster than a slow steady pace.

Sam felt his stomach contract in worry as cold sweat started to breakout all over his body. Would everyone have enough time to escape the cellar?

Climbing the stairs almost sluggishly, Sam watched as more Hightower guards appeared in his field of vision, clutching their weapons as they yelled over the screams of pain and fear that could be heard from outside the walls of the dilapidated inn.

While the continuous bombardment was rained down on the city, by the Greyjoy catapults which had been mounted on the ships of the invading fleet, caused his stomach and heart to clench with fear.

A deafening crash was heard close by, making the earth shudder. Sam lost his footing and fell to the floor with the man who he had been helping, tumble down alongside him.

As the pain throbbed in his hip and elbow, Sam did not even bother to try and stand up before most of the shaking had died down; knowing that he would end up on the ground again.

With the world quaking around him and the man sobbing from pain and fear almost on top of him, Sam wondered if they would die on that dusty floor.

Finally, when the earth had stilled again Sam forced himself to stand up and dragged the other man back to his feet.

Looking around for Myrna, Sam let out a breath of relief seeing her clutching a bag of supplies to her chest while leaning against the wall. Her eyes were bright and large with fear but at least she was alive and whole.

“Maester, hurry.” One of the Hightower men spoke in a rushed whisper as more people made their way out of the cellar. “We are going to move further from the river, the Ironborn are pushing us back.”

Sam threw the injured man´s arm around his shoulders again and started to tug him out of the dilapidated inn.

Stepping onto the stone paved street, Sam felt his already irritated eyes water and he had to swallow a series of coughs from breathing in the smoke and dust that hung over the city.

“Maester Sam, over here.” Myrna whispered and gestured for Sam to follow as he dragged the injured man along; who groaned and huffed in pain. “We will take the alleys; it will be easier to lose the Ironborn there.”

As Sam and Myrna made their way into the back passageways, the others who had been in the cellar of the inn followed them, looking pale with terror as they fought to keep as quiet as humanly possible.

The strain of the additional weight of hauling the guard along with him, made more sweat break out on his body.

The dust and ash settled on his perspiring face, Sam was helpless to wipe or scratch at his skin. Gritting his teeth against the irritation, Sam tried to ignore the feeling and listen to any sound of danger that could come their way.

Sam could hear people´s screams as the Ironborn continued their attack on the city and he urged his feet to walked faster. However, the man he was trying to lead to safety, was having a hard time keeping up with him.

Swallowing hard as the cries of terror and pain filled his ears, Sam focused on the leather clad feet landing on the paved streets following them and the weight of the man he was lugging around.

“THERE, MORE BODIES FOR THE CROWEYE!”

As one, they all turned to look, feeling the horror spread to every fibre of his being, Sam could only stare, rooted to the ground as a dozen men clad in boiled, salt-stained leathers, wearing cruel grins on their faces as their cold eyes were locked on them.

Staring at the Ironborn reavers, Sam felt the sweat on his body freeze on his skin, and he was sure that the blood had stopped flowing through his body.

“RUN.” One of the guards yelled in a hoarse voice, being one of the few that managed to keep some of his composure. “GET OUT OF HERE.”

Before Sam could urge his feet to move, the novices and the patients who could run, bolted past him so fast that he could hardly see them.

Sam tried to grab the arm around his shoulder tighter, but the appendage was ripped out of his grasp before the short sword was drawn from its sheath.

The guard shoved Sam forward, toward the others who was rapidly disappearing between the tight pact buildings. “Go maester Sam, save yourself.”

Turning on his heels as fast as possible for his size, Sam stumbled after the retreating figures, hoping to get as far away from the reavers as he could. Sam tried to block out the screams of the guards as they fought the Ironborn while he ran away, letting the other men do the fighting on his behalf.

Feeling his throat burn from the dust, smoke and his own harsh breathing as he fled from the attackers. Sam ran as fast as his feet could carry him, sure he could hear his father´s voice in his head, snarling at him that he was nothing more than a fat, useless coward and a waste of space.

He wanted nothing more than to lay down on the ground and give up but the sounds behind him egged him on, filling him with terror that was enough to push through the pain and keep going forward.

With every step he took, breathing came harder and it did not take long for him to lose Myrna´s fleeing form in the maze of buildings, leaving Sam alone and lost.

Yet as he pressed his feet to continue running, the memory of his father´s berating came louder as more boulders smashed into the city from the Greyjoy war machines.

The city shook once again, throwing Sam to the side, into a brick wall. Gritting his teeth as a sharp pain clenched through his shoulder, he slid down the wall as a sob tried to crawl from his throat.

A familiar feeling crept into his soul, a feeling that had been more prevalent in his childhood; until he had arrived at Castle Black and made his first real friend.

Leaning his bulk against the wall, his thoughts travelled to Jon and he wondered if the raven had gotten to him.

Had Jon even arrived at Riverrun? Had the raven gotten lost or shot down?

Having to trust something so important as a plea for aid to a raven made Sam´s stomach turn. It was all too often that a raven got lost or injured during their travels and if Jon did not get the message, Sam was not sure if they could survive the assault.

There was no doubt in his mind that Jon would come if the letter was delivered into his hands.

Jon would come, with his large dragon that he had been warging into for months. Even if said dragon had been on the other side of the Narrow Sea.

He just prayed that Jon would get the letter and it would be in time.

Pushing himself off the wall, Sam knew that he had to move.

He had only made it a few tentative steps before a deafening crash. It seemed to come from beside him and the shock felt like it was ripping through him.

Sam felt his body take flight, his body slamming into a brick wall on the other side of the alley. The breath was knocked out of his lungs as he slammed onto the paved street, his head colliding against the stone, turning the world dark.

Chapter Text

VARYS

Watching as the King raised a dark brow when the young woman by the spy master´s side introduced him, Varys felt like a fool.

Not only had he been discovered like a novice, he had also failed to see the obvious truth about the man pretending to be the bastard son the honourable lord Eddard Stark.

Immediately, when Varys had laid eyes on the young King during the negotiation, he had been overcome with the urge to kick himself for the grave oversight he had committed.

How could he have just ignored the fact that Eddard Stark had claimed to have fathered a bastard, when he had a young wife with child waiting for him at Riverrun?

The lord of Winterfell would not have forsaken his marriage vows. Not only that but with one look at the King now knowing the truth, it was easy to see that Rhaegar Targaryen was indeed his father.

Clearing his throat, Varys tried to assure himself that at the time, there had been greater issues at hand than children born out of wedlock. However, there was a nagging sense of irritation in his being. A nagging that told him that he should have done better, that he should not have taken Lord Eddard at his word in the aftermath of the Rebellion.

He knew better than to take a man´s word for anything, even a man renowned for his honour like Lord Stark.

“It is an honour to meet you, your grace.” Varys bowed deeply, knowing full well that the action must have looked ridiculous in a heavy woollen dress. “I had hoped to meet you under… more favourable circumstances.”

Glancing at the White direwolf laying by the fire gnawing at a large bone, Varys felt nervous as the red eyes pierced into his own.

Leaning back in his chair, the young King gestured for Varys to sit down in the chair by the desk as Arya Stark silently made her way to stand at her cousin´s shoulder.

Taking the offered seat, Varys let out a simpering smile that he had perfected over his long service to Aerys and then Robert Baratheon. “Thank you, your grace.”

“Tell me lord Varys, what brings you to Riverrun?” King Jon asked, the deep Northern burr almost soothing as he kept his handsome face clear of any emotions.

Fighting a smile, Varys found himself yet again pleased with how the King handled what was thrown his way. Remaining courteous despite going straight to the point. “You do, your grace. Although, I had hoped to observe for a while longer.”

Glancing at the young lady standing by her cousin, Varys wondered how she had seen through his disguise. A girl of fourteen had done what even his dearest friend had never even come close to.

A proud part of him wanted to write it off as the girl being a Waterdancer and therefore more observant than most. However, that lie he wanted to tell himself was cast away before it could take root.

Illyrio had been a Waterdancer and he had never been able to rip apart the cloak Varys had draped himself in. No, something else had given him away and he had to find out what it was.

Later.

For now, he had to content himself with waiting; he had more important business to attend to.

The King stayed silent, observing Varys, his dark eyes unreadable. The young man´s bearing reminded the spymaster strongly of his uncle however with how he handled Ser Jaime and the Westerlords, King Jon had shown wisdom that only a few lords of Westeros possessed, the late lord of Winterfell was not among them.

“I must say that I had not expected you to make peace with house Lannister and the lords of the West.” Varys said when the King continued to remain silent.

Studying the man´s face intently, hoping to spot any hint of what the King was thinking, Varys found himself disappointed when King Jon remained stoic, as Varys was coming to realize was his way.

“Do you disapprove, my lord?” King Jon spoke quietly, in a tone that made Varys feel as the man desired the spymaster´s honest opinion.

“No, your grace.” Varys spoke truthfully. “I am merely surprised. Not many men would have sat down with the Kingslayer and made peace when they had such overwhelming advantage.”

“The dead do not care about our infighting, lord Varys. If we are to survive, we must set aside our pride and work together.”

It was hard for Varys to keep from smiling, it was only his years of training in self-restraint that kept the grin from his face.

“Yes, you showed the lords the dead man, that was smart of you, your grace.”

“It was merely common sense, was it not my lord? If I have proof of my words, should I not show it?”

“Is not a King´s word proof enough, your grace?” Varys countered with a slight smile slipping through his defences.

The King kept his face as unreadable as it had been before but Varys thought that there was a small glint in his eyes, a shimmer of amusement. “I find that when trying to convince men of the impossible, it is better to carry proof. No matter who is being convinced or doing the convincing.”

“You said that you were here to watch.” Lady Arya cut in, hand on the pommel of Darksister on her hip, while the grey direwolf sat at her side. “I assume that you are here to watch Jon.”

“I wanted to see what kind of man he is.” Varys confessed while a chill ran down his spine as the young girl stared into his eyes with her icy grey ones.

“And?” The Stark girl inquired, raising a brow much like the King had done when she had introduced Varys. “Does my brother stand up to your scrutiny?”

Meeting the young woman´s eyes, Varys was sure he had seen such a gaze before and not in her father, the late lord of Winterfell. However as much as he tried, he could not place it.

It had not been in her aunt; the lady Lyanna as Varys had never laid eyes on the rose of Winterfell nor had it been in either lord Rickard nor lord Brandon in the short time Varys had been in their presence.

“I have been hearing the wildest rumours about his grace for some time now, Lady Arya and I must say it is a rare thing indeed to meet a man who has lived up to them.”

Arya Stark continued to look at Varys, her pale grey eyes not giving anything away. He felt his gaze once again drawn to the sword at her hip. “When I heard that you had found the sword Darksister, I had thought that you would have wielded it yourself, your grace.”

Turning his words and attention back to the young King, Varys felt disappointment when he saw that Jon Targaryen remained as hard to read as before.

“I already have a sword.”

“Ah, yes the Valyrian sword Longclaw, the sword of house Mormont?” Varys let out a small smile as he folded his hands in his lap. “I heard the blade had been given to you after saving the late lord commander´s life.”

The King nodded but kept silent, as if he did not want to talk about what had happened.

“Not many men would have given up a valyrian steel sword, much less to a woman.”

“Jon is not most men.” Lady Arya replied and for the first time, Varys could detect a note of irritation in her voice, or so he thought. “And I will return Darksister.”

“You would return a valyrian steel sword?” Feeling the surprise grip him, Varys could only stare at the young girl.

“Of course, I am simply borrowing it for a time. She belongs to Jon.”

The spymaster could only blink at the young woman in front of him. He wondered if the promise of returning the ancestral sword of house Targaryen to its rightful owner would stand as firm when the time came to make good on that promise.

“I hardly think that you came here to Riverrun to talk about swords, lord Varys.” The young woman reached out and buried her hand in the grey wolf’s fur. “I assume you came here to gather information for Cersei. Am I right?”

“No.”

Arya Stark´s eyes stared into his own, leaving Varys feeling naked despite the heavy servant dress he was wearing. It was like the girl was searching through his mind, looking for any hint of deceit that might lurk beneath the surface.

“Then why are you here?” She asked after a few more moments of silence. “You have been serving Cersei Lannister for years, why stop now?”

“I have never served Cersei Lannister.” Varys´ words were soft but firm. “I only did as so many others, I waited for the right moment.”

“Is it the right moment? Now that my brother has come forward with dragons and the might of the North, the Vale and the Riverlands.” Raising an eyebrow, young Arya Stark stood still as a statue.

“I cannot in good conscious serve Cersei Lannister and after what happened in the Rebellion.” Varys fell silent for a moment, searching for the right words. “Many of us made mistakes during that time, some of them were graver than others and in the aftermath, I swore to myself that I would wait for a worthy monarch to take the throne to offer my services.”

King Jon, who had remained silent for a while rubbed his bearded chin. “You would have known about the man who calls himself Aegon, long before you heard about me. So tell us, why are you here instead of with him?”

“Truthfully, I was with Aegon and Jon Connington in the Stormlands.” The spymaster answered, picking his words as he were choosing the finest gems. “It did not take me long to see whoever the boy is, he is not the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and certainly not a worthy monarch. So, naturally when I heard that you were the heir of the last dragon and had proof; I came here because I was sure that your grace would be coming to take the throne.”

The man sitting before him stared at the spider, a glint of curiosity in his dark gaze. “And what makes a worthy monarch in your eyes?”

“Someone who cares as much about the smallfolk as he does for the high lords, someone who does not let their pride do the ruling for them.”

“And you think that I am capable of living up to those ideals?”

“Oh, I think you are.” Feeling triumphant, Varys let out a small genuine smile at the King. “I heard about what you did at Barrowton. How you helped the man who had fought against you at Winterfell and employed him to teach everyone who wished how to read; Rodrik, I believe his name was.”

“Aye, his name is Rodrik.” King Jon held Varys´ gaze however there was a hint of Rhaegar´s melancholy in those dark eyes. “It was the least I could do.”

The despondent look in his eyes disappeared so fast that Varys was not sure if he imagined it. “However, I am curious,” The King continued as the white direwolf finally stood from the hearth to walk over and sit beside his master, laying its head in the man´s lap. “What did you make of this Aegon?”

For a moment, Varys contemplated if he should tell the King how he had spirited his older brother away from the capital just before the Mountain had killed Elia Martell.

No, he decided. There was no need to confess. The young King before him would not benefit from that knowledge, it would only create doubt; it was best if the older of Rhaegar´s sons remained in his grave, no matter how certain that something had happened to the infant after Varys had handed him to the captain of the ship and the boy in the Stormlands was an imposter.

“There is not a hint of your father in him,” Varys began, his eyes straying to the enormous wolf that was receiving a gentle scratch behind the ear. “Nor is there anything of Elia Martell. Regrettably he has a rather short temper, especially when it comes to you.”

King Jon remained silent however his dark brow rose a fraction of an inch. “Does he?”

“Indeed, I am afraid he does your grace. Especially when anyone dares to call you trueborn or Rhaegar´s son.” Remembering the tirade that had come from Aegon when he had first heard about Jon Targaryen rose in his mind.

“Well, I suppose that he cannot be all too pleased to have more competition for the Iron throne.” Lady Arya said looking at her cousin. “Not after having gone through all the trouble of pretending to be someone who died almost twenty years ago.”

“Oh, he does believe that he is Aegon Targaryen.” Varys assured her, leaning a little forward in his chair. “He is accompanied by Jon Connington, who also believes that Aegon is truly Rhaegar´s son and is serving as his hand and advisor.”

“The former lord of Griffin´s Roost. Have they attacked his former seat? I would imagine that he would like to take it.” The King asked surprising Varys by his knowledge of who Jon Connington was, a man who had been in exile in Essos all of King Jon´s life and thought to have died years ago.

“There were plans to take Griffin´s Roost, however there was a storm that blew them off course and it seemed counterproductive to go south when they had landed so close to Storm´s End.”

Silence lay over them as Varys watched the King think for a moment before the young man spoke. “I am told that you have a spy network that is unrivalled not only in Westeros but also in Essos.”

With a nod Varys straightened in the chair. “Information is my trade, your grace and I have been cultivating my networks for decades. Who´s services I now humbly offer to you.”

“Just like that?” Lady Arya spoke slowly, her voice low and Varys was sure that there was a sliver of danger in it. “After everything, you just want to support Jon?”

“I have served many Kings over the last few years,” Varys allowed his eyes to drop to his smooth hands in his lap, before turning them again at the two people in front of him. “It would be a joy to serve a King who actually cares about the people of his realm for a change.”

Arya Stark stared at him, her eyes seeming to bore into his own, then she leaned over to her cousin and whispered in his ear. As she straightened again, the King looked pensive. “In that case, I am sure that we can find you accommodations while we are staying in Riverrun. We will not be staying here for long, as we need to start the march to King´s Landing as soon as the Riverlords are ready.”

Recognizing the dismissal, Varys stood and bowed deeply despite the dress. “Thank you, your grace. I will not disappoint you.”

Raising a brow at his answer, Lady Arya let her hand drop from her wolf´s head. “I will show you to your chambers, lord Varys.”

The young lady stalked forward and gestured for Varys to follow her. Bowing again to the King, the spymaster heeded her as they left the King in solitude.

Walking side by side in the darkened corridors, the only light being cast by the torches on the stone walls, Varys noticed that the lady Arya´s feet barely made a sound when she walked and the young woman seemed to hold herself with predatory grace. Every movement seemed measured and despite how relaxed she seemed; Varys knew that Arya Stark was ready to draw Darksister forth at any moment.

“I was there you know.” She said quietly as the wolfs claws scratched at the stone floor. “When you met the waterdancer under the Red keep when my father was still hand.”

It took everything in Varys to keep himself from gaping at the girl. Instead, he replied calmly, keeping his voice as pleasant as he could. “Oh? I did not see you.”

“I know.” Arya Stark glanced at him then turned her eyes back, staring ahead, her figure cast in an orange glow. “I was hiding by the dragon skulls. But I found your conversation very interesting.”

“Did you?”

“Yes, I did.”

Varys expected her to continue, yet she seemed content to allow the conversation halt as they continued their way, passing guards and servants who bowed before the young woman and greeted her respectfully.

It was not until they walked down a flight of stairs that she broke the silence again. “Do you have any plans to betray Jon?”

The spider stopped walking, feeling a little bit disappointed that she would come right out and ask him, letting go of any and all pretence.

Lady Arya stopped and watched him, waiting for him to answer as the shadows danced across her face.

“No matter what you think the truth is, you know that I will deny any intention of betraying the King, so why ask the question?”

Both girl and wolf stared at him, looking as immovable as mountains. “I will know if you lie.”

Lacing his fingers behind his back, Varys found himself believing her. Perhaps it was her absolute surety in her word or the fact that she had seen through his disguise so easily that had convinced him. Or more likely it was the combination of the two. “I have no intention of betraying the King. I meant what I said, I truly do think that he is the right person to sit on the Iron throne.”

Staring at him for a while longer, Arya Stark turned on her heel and started walking again, forcing Varys to follow. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes, I do believe that you have no plans to betray Jon at the moment.”

Varys almost smiled at her. Careful, good, he thought to himself. The King was well served in having his cousin around.

They came to a stop again after a traveling a bit further and the young woman gestured at a closed door. “These are you chambers while we stay in Riverrun, my lord.”

With that, she started to walk away, her direwolf close to her side.

“My lady.” Varys called softly after her. Lady Arya stopped and half turned around. “What would you do if I did betray the King?”

They stood staring at one another in the dark corridor, Varys waiting for the inevitable threats of torture and death.

However, the girl did not say what the spymaster was expecting. Rather she only spoke two words that left the blood in his veins cold as ice.

“Valar Morghulis.”

DAENERYS

The hot wind blew her hair away from her face, making the bells jingle merrily and Dany felt a swell of pride bloom in her chest. A new addition had been woven into the silver gold locks. The newest bell was bright gold, making it stand out amongst the silver ones, but it was none the less fitting.

The Dothraki warriors leaped out of her way as Dany and her two companions made their way forward. The looks of reverence filled her with lightness and Daenerys was reminded of when she had freed the slaves of Yunkai the first time.

Looking at the sellsword beside her, it was easy to see that Daario was enjoying himself immensely, smirking and swaggering as her warriors gazed at her.

Ser Barristan, on the other hand looked like a walking statue, showing no emotion on his weary face. Glancing at her lord commander of the Queensguard, Dany frowned at his attire.

The normally neat man´s armor was filthy with dust and dirt all over and he was missing his white cloak that made everyone aware of his status in her court. The lack of the white garment made the man look smaller and less dignified.

Ser Barristan looked nothing like the intimidating figure he cut when they left Meereen and ever since they had taken Yunkai, the man had been silent and sullen, refusing to speak unless spoken to; even then, his answers were short and with little emotion behind them.

Arriving at the centre of the camp, they entered the large area that had been made for her most precious child. However, her vision of Drogon was blocked by hundreds of large men as the Dothraki were gathered to see what was happening.

Neither Daario nor Ser Barristan had time to speak up before Dany was noticed by the Dothraki bloodriders, they jumped out of the way, reverently calling her Khalessi as the Black Dread reborn was revealed in all his glory. Drogon roared angerly at one of the men who had dared to stand too close to him, letting torrents of black flames streak across the sand.

The warrior jumped from the flames, throwing himself out of the fire´s path, only narrowly escaping a painful death.

“Perhaps my Queen,” Daario spoke lowly, staring at her child. “It would be better to keep the dragon away from camp.”

“No.”

The sellsword wisely did not protest. Turning her eyes from the black dragon, Dany sneaked a look to where the lord commander was standing, despite the self-imposed muteness, the young Queen had expected him to say something about Drogon. However, the man just stood there, silent with an unreadable look.

They could not understand the bond between a dragonrider and their mount. No one in this world could understand her, not anymore. Not since the murder of her family during the Usurper´s Rebellion.

Taking a deep breath, Dany made her way to Drogon, leaving her guards behind. The dragon´s red eyes burned with fury as he let out another roar at the Dothraki warriors, who all retreated further away from the black dread come again. However, Dany only smiled softly at her child.

Together they would right the wrongs of the past, she knew they would.

Every step she took towards Drogon was small but she kept her back straight and her head held high.

Drogon´s red eyes found hers and she could see the fury that shimmered their depths. He was angry, Dany thought to herself. Angry at the injustices and angry at the still healing wound on his leg.

Turning her violet eyes to the offending wound, Dany felt the same wrath rise in her belly. The masters had dared to hurt her mount, and they had paid with their lives.

Closing the distance between them, Dany placed a small hand, gently on the dragon´s snout. “They will all pay.” She whispered to him, as if they were sharing a secret. “The masters and all those who will try to deny me my birthright.”

A low growl in his throat made Dany smile indulgently at him. Turning her head slightly to where the Dothraki saddle maker was standing, staring at them with wonder and nervousness in his eyes, Dany gestured for the man and his helpers to approach.

As soon as the men started to move towards Dany and her dragon, Drogon turned his eyes to where the Dothraki saddle maker and his helpers were slowly inching to where the Queen was standing.

Letting out a loud roar, Drogon turning all his attention to the men, making everyone rush backward, not wanting to face the dragon´s wrath.

Trying to calm the great dragon down, Dany gave him a scratch on his massive neck, whispering to him that everything was alright, and the men were not trying to hurt him.

Again, the men started to move forward at a crawling pace and Dany had to appreciate their bravery and devotion that they would dare to even approach Drogon when he was staring at them, showing them his black blade like teeth.

However, their bravery was only short lived as Drogon turned as swiftly as a cat, almost knocking Dany down into the dirt.

Roaring and letting out a torrent of flame, Drogon´s fury could be seen by all. The power of her oldest child was awe inspiring and the men who had dared to come close to the dragon, quicky dropped the massive saddle and jumped out of the way of the black fires.

As soon as Drogon had stopped breathing fire, Dany moved slowly towards him, to calm him down from his fury.

Getting the Dread to calm down again proved to be a hard task. It felt hours until Drogon allowed even Dany to come close enough to him to pet him on the nose. Even then, he was staring at the men all around him.

The saddle maker had to be dragged away as he had gotten burnt by the flames. Thankfully the saddle he had made had not been fodder to the black fires and lay quietly on the sand not far from the now scorched earth, where Drogon had made his displeasure known.

Moving with confidence, Dany called for Dothraki volunteers to help her carry the saddle to the large dragon. As two men walked over and picked the saddle up from the ground, Dany walked ahead of them.

Drogon continued to stare as he slowly leaned backwards, like he was planning to launch himself into the clear skies. “Drogon, stay still.” Staring into his eyes, Dany reached out her hand and slowly placed it on his snout again.

When she felt that he understood what she wanted, Dany climbed onto his back and ordered the terrified men to come closer and thrust the saddle up after her.

With much difficulty they managed to haul the saddle up to the dragons back while Drogon snarled and threatened the Dothraki bloodriders. As soon as the Dany managed to grip the saddle Drogon snapped again and let out a sharp shriek in resentment.

The two men tuned white and rushed back, away from the black dragon. The weight of the saddle seemed to increase with every pull and it took all her strength to haul it on Drogon´s back. Every part of her body seemed to scream from the effort and her job was not made easier with her mount moving and snarling at the dreaded saddle.

Sweat started to pour of her as she stood up, adjusting the leather monstrosity on his back and she almost fell off when Drogon tried to shake the saddle of his back. Dany managed to drop to her knees and for a moment she felt her heart in her throat as the feeling when she had dangled helplessly in the air above Yunkai entered her mind.

Waiting for Drogon to still again, Dany took a deep breath to calm herself. The Dothraki could not see her as weak. No one could see her afraid, she had to be strong. Rising to her feet again, Dany did her best to get control of her breathing and the shaking of her hands.

“Drogon.” Clearing her throat to keep her voice from shaking, Dany started to speak with her child in high Valyrian. “You must stay still.”

The black dragon hissed and stilled a bit, yet there was an uneasiness in his large frame that refused to leave him.

Not wanting to test the great dragon´s temper anymore than she had to, Dany hurriedly adjusted the saddle to be as comfortable as could be. The saddle was by no means a perfect fit but it was the best the leatherworkers had been able to make it, going by nothing than Daenerys´ descriptions and seeing Drogon from the ground.

Dany slipped from Drogon´s back and the sweat from the effort clung to her skin as her leather clad feet landed in the sand, kicking up dust that attached itself to her body, making her grow irritated at the feeling.

Attaching the chains and leathers around his deep chest took more time than Dany would have liked and she was forced to whisper sweet nothings to her child while she worked to keep him calm.

When she was done, Dany called for the men to bring forth a horse to be slaughtered for her child. Fixing her gaze at the saddle that Drogon now spotted, Dany felt the mixed feeling tumble in her.

While now the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms would not be in danger of falling of Drogon´s back, having to use a saddle to ride her mount chafed at her very core.

It was undignified and in the stories that Viserys had told her about Aegon the Conqueror, her brother had never mentioned the man using a saddle.

Drogon sniffed the chains and leather that was now wrapped around his chest and back and she could see the anger at the disgrace at being saddled like a common horse. Shaking his massive body, Drogon tried to reach the chains to bite them off his body.

Staying with Drogon until the Dothraki arrived with the horse, Dany stopped the dragon from ripping the bindings from his body.

The men brought a chestnut stallion forward, who´s best years were well behind him; but despite that the horse screamed and reared from the terror of being so close to the great black dragon.

As soon as the horse was brought forward, Drogon´s attention was firmly on his new prey. With only a few quick steps, the black dragon leapt forward with a shriek and bit the horse´s head almost clean off and swung the now dead creature to his right.

Letting out yet another torrent of flames, Drogon started to feast on the carcass.

Devouring a whole horse would take the dragon some time. Watching Drogon with a fond smile on her face, Dany decided to leave for her tent. It would do her good to relax for a bit while her mount ate.

Turning on her heel Dany headed back, followed by Daario and the lord commander of the Queensguard.

Her handmaidens all bowed to her and one of them handed her a cup of sweet wine as Dany took a well-deserved seat.

She watched silently as Daario swaggered over and poured himself a cup of wine and took a seat in front of her. “Everything is ready for the attack; we only await your word.”

“Good, we shall attack as soon as Drogon is done with his meal.” Taking a small sip from her cup, Dany glanced at her lord commander of the Queensguard.

Ser Barristan stood by the entrance of the tent, as still as a statue, staring ahead at nothing. The good mood of her success was soured seeing the knight not sharing in it.

The man should have been rejoicing in her victories, not sulking like a child. “You have not replaced your cloak ser?”

“No, your grace.”

When the man said nothing else, Dany felt the anger rise in her again at how he dared to speak to her. “Why not?”

“I am sure that there are more important issues to deal with than my apparel, your grace.”

Dany frowned at his words, something about them made her feel like they were a jab at her, at her position.

No, it could not be, Ser Barristan had guarded her father and her brother Rhaegar. The knight was not Tyrion Lannister, who needed to be watched at all hours, who would not hesitate to stab her in the back, just like his brother had done to her father when it suited him.

But had Ser Barristan not worked for the Usurper for years? Even when knowing that Dany had been alive.  Was the man now waiting for the opportunity to defect to the false dragon that had landed on the shores of Westeros?

No, the man was faithful. He had to be, Ser Barristan had so often likened her to her brother Rhaegar, whom the man clearly loved and respected. Perhaps he was just shocked that a woman could be just as great a conqueror as Aegon Targaryen, the first King of the Seven Kingdoms.

That had to be it, it just had to.

The man was a knight, he knew that sometimes in war, a King or a Queen had to be ruthless and make sacrifices. It was the fate she accepted in the field with Drogon, as the Dothraki come up on them.

Looking at the statue like man, Dany had an idea that would work to calm the man´s nerves. “Ser, my brother once told me that Dragonstone was decorated by hundreds of stone dragons, is that true?”

“Yes, your grace.” Dany smiled, wanting to hear more about the castle where Aegon had planned the conquest of Westeros. “One of the towers is even shaped like a dragon.”

“Is it true that it was constructed by magic and dragonfire?”

“So the maesters say and I am inclined to believe it.” Ser Barristan looked unsure for a moment before speaking. “Your brother loved Dragonstone but I think that he loved Summerhall more despite the history.”

Dany remembered the man telling her this before, how Rhaegar had loved the place where he had been born, where most of their family had died. “When I take back my throne, I will rebuild it.” She decided, feeling the determination fill her as she took a sip of the sweet wine. “In Rhaegar´s honor.”

Expecting a smile to form on the knight´s face, Dany was surprised to see Ser Barristan look morose. “As you say, your grace.”

“You do not think that I can?” Feeling more than a little offended, Dany sat straighter in her chair, staring the man down, daring him to say that she could not do this.

“I did not say that your grace. I am sure that you would have no problem in rebuilding Summerhall.”

“Then what?” Dany insisted, gripping the cup of wine firmly.

“Wars and conquests take a long time and are expensive, your grace and you are planning from going from one conquest to another.”

“I have more than enough gold to take the Seven Kingdoms and soon enough we can leave the bay of Drogon.”

“As you say, your grace.”

Drogon letting out another roar of anger echoed Dany´s mood perfectly at hearing the knight´s words. The man´s lack of faith in her abilities cut at her, especially when she had just taken Yunkai without any great loss of her men.

A huff escaped her lips, Dany did not need to hear more of the man´s doubts about her capabilities. What she needed was people that helped her and supported her, like Daario. The sellsword was always quick to support her when she needed it and offered her good advice.

Perhaps it would be a good idea to allow the man a seat on her small council when she took the Iron throne. Daario was a capable warrior and he was in love with her, so his loyalty was not in question.

Daenerys would prefer Daario over some fat lord that only cared about lining his own pockets and marrying his heir to her, gaining influence.  Glancing at the man in question, who was busy with drinking from his cup, Dany could see that the sellsword was in high spirits.

At least he was happy with her success.

Chapter Text

JON

The warm Riverland wind whipped passed his ears as Rhaegal let out a shriek that was echoed by Viserion. The sky was littered with whisps of clouds that rested just above them and the early morning sun that was rising in the east did not give of much heat.  

Turning to look back, Jon smiled at the white dragon as he let out another roar as a flock of geese traveling south just behind them, squawked in fright and scattered to the winds.

Continuing his way east to Riverrun, Jon urged Rhaegal still higher in the sky. The higher they went, the colder and thinner the air around them became and when they flew so high that they disappeared into the clouds it started to become hard for Jon to breath.

Jon was forced to take deep breathes through his mouth and the temperature in the clouds was like being dunked into a pool of ice water. Jon resisted a shiver and encouraged Rhaegal to go lower again.

Perhaps there would be time later to see how high in the air they could go together. Jon felt a certain thill of excitement run through him at the prospect.  

As they lowered their altitude, Jon saw the red stone walls of Riverrun come back into view. A sigh escaped his lips and a sharp sense of disappointment rose in him at the thought that their flight was now coming to an end.

Rhaegal and Viserion went lower still, until Jon could see the tents of the men around Riverrun come into view. The colourful tents looked like mismatched blanket around the castle of house Tully and the men and horses looked like little dots as they saw to their duties.

Jon had done his best, trying to organise the placement of the soldiers in such a way that they were forced to mingle and integrate between Kingdoms. However, he knew that they needed much more than that to finally let go of the hatred that had sprung up between them. What they needed was a common enemy that they could hate more than each other.

Rhaegal let out a roar as they turned in a circle, the wind whipping through Jon´s hair as they headed for the empty field not far from the castle walls and close the edge of the encampment.

He could see men stop in their tracks as they often did when Jon and Rhaegal took to the skies together.

The emerald dragon shrieked as they started their decent. As they continue to fly lower, Jon spotted Ghost sitting right where he had left him, beside Ser Brynden and the two dozen Targaryen guards that had accompanied him to visit the two dragons.

Landing right in the middle of the tent city and as soon as Rhaegal´s feet touched the soft, grass covered ground, the white direwolf rose and trotted over to them, his tongue hanging out of his mouth and his ears perked excitedly.

As Rhaegal lowered his shoulder to ease his way down, he cooed and turned his head slightly towards Jon as Ghost rushed to his side and leaned against him, hoping for a scratch as a reward for his vigil.

Indulging Ghost, Jon walked to Rhaegal´s large horned head as he buried his hand in the white wolf´s shaggy fur. Reaching up with his other hand, Jon rubbed the scales of the enormous dragon´s head.

“Go on then.” Jon said in a low voice. “Go and play with Viserion.”

Jon felt a smile grow on his face as Rhaegal let out another shriek and took off to the clear blue skies. The gust of air that followed the green dragon tussled Jon´s hair and Ghost´s fur as Rhaegal joined his white scaled brother.

Watching the two dragons for a moment, Jon then turned and walked over to the lord commander who had an amused look on his face. “Enjoyed your flight, your grace?”

“Always, Ser Brynden.” As he closed the distance between them, Jon was acutely aware of the soldiers staring at him as he grabbed the reins offered by the lord commander. “Any trouble while I was away?”

“No.” The Blackfish smiled grimly. “However, lords Theomar Smallwood and Clement Piper arrived in your absence. They should be waiting for you in the courtyard.”

Nodding, Jon tried to ignore the stares of the men as they gathered around the edges of the empty field that the dragons used for their rest and pulled himself into the saddle of his ink black horse that he had been given by lord Manderly.

“How is lord Theomar related to Thoren Smallwood?” Jon asked the lord commander. He remembered the ranger quite vividly. The man had been aggressive and closeminded, Jon hoped that the lord Smallwood was nothing like him.

“A cousin, twice removed I believe.” Ser Brynden said as slowly made their way to Riverrun through the encampment at a walk as they men cheered and pointed at them. Jon could hear his name called from all directions and many of his new titles thrown his way. “He had a son who died at seven. His only heir is his daughter, Carellen a maiden of twelve or there about.”

“What kind of man is he?” Jon asked, hoping that the knight would have good news for him.

“He was always ready to answer Hoster´s call, unlike Late Walder Frey.” Ser Brynden´s eyes roamed over the gathered crowd on both their sides as Jon gave a small wave to the men who called out their greetings. “However, he is proud and has a quick temper and he did fight alongside my brother against house Targaryen in Robert´s rebellion.”

“And lord Piper?”

“More even tempered than lord Smallwood, although he is not much of a fighter. He will be glad to see justice have done to Old Walder and Riverrun freed. I think that he will be eager to declare for you.”

As Jon was about to ask more questions about the lords, a man clad in the colours of house Banefort, elbowed his way forward and yelled. “Seven blessings to you, your grace.”

“And to you, good ser.” When Jon replied to the man, the crowd grew even louder and more men shouted their greetings and waving their hands in the air, almost as if hoping to be noticed.

They made their way through the encampment, as the soldiers shouted and cheered, when they finally rode through the gates of Riverrun they were met with a troubling sight.

Lord Crakehall and a man wearing the colours of house Smallwood were trying to come to blows while being held back. The Wull of the mountain clans was effortlessly holding the newcomer by the scruff of his neck while the lord of Crakehall was trying to rip himself out of the grip of the sellsword Bronn, while Ser Jaime was standing in front of the large man, his left hand on the man´s chest as he hissed lowly at the man clad in brown, black and white.

The lords sworn to Jon had all come into the courtyard, filling it with colours and bewildered faces as they stared at the two lords trying to reach one another, forming a half circle around them, while the lord of Riverrun tried to calm the two men down.  

“What in the Seven hells is going on here?” Ser Brynden bellowed as they pulled their horses to a halt. As the lord commander´s voice boomed over the courtyard, lord Crakehall stopped fighting ser Jaime and ser Bronn and stared wide eyed at them.

The newcomer, still firmly in The Wull´s grip was trying desperately to rip himself away and lay into lord Roland. “I dare you to say that again.”

“Lord Smallwood.” Edmure Tully spoke to the enraged man, his face pale as Jon dismounted from his horse. “Please, his grace is here.”

The tall dark-haired man in the Wull´s grip turned his head slowly as Jon walked over to them. Lord Smallwood stared at Jon, his eyes wide going from Jon himself to Ghost who had latched his enormous form to his side.

As Theomar Smallwood opened and closed his mouth, horror written across his face, Jon turned to lord Edmure. “My lord lets head into the great hall. I am sure lord Smallwood and lord Piper are weary from the road.”

Lord Piper, who had been practically hiding behind the gathered crowd of lords, rushed forward and bowed. “Your grace, it is an honour to meet you.”

Two younger men followed the shorter, older man, both wearing blue, white and pink traveling leathers. “And you, my lord.” Jon replied as they walked into the castle.

Lord Edmure rushed forward and fell into step with Jon. “I am sorry your grace. The behaviour of lord Smallwood and lord Crakehall is inexcusable.”

“Do you know why they were coming to blows?” Jon asked the lord paramount of the Riverlands.

“I think that Crakehall might have implied that the lords of the Riverlands are cravens.” Lord Edmure´s cheeks turned red with anger.

“As exciting as watching the lords fight one another in the courtyard, next time do take me with you when you go dragon riding.” Arya popped up beside Jon, without making a sound until she spoke up.

Lord Edmure jumped in surprise when she made her presence known as Jon smile at his sister. “I would have invited you today but you were nowhere to be found.”

Arya swore darkly, reminding Jon more of the girl she had been, rather than the young woman she was quickly becoming. “I was busy.”

“Aye, I figured.” Jon said as they entered the great hall. “How about tomorrow?”

“Really?” Arya excited look made Jon smile even wider. “I will be ready, I promise.”

Jon was hit with a deep sense of wistfulness when he saw the look on her face. The reminder of their childhood in Winterfell, when Robb and Ned Stark had been alive and there were no worries about how the Others were marching on the Wall, or how to unite the Seven Kingdoms to defend the realms of men.  

Jon took his usual seat at the head of the table and watched as the lords all took their seats. Except for the two lords who had almost started a fight in the courtyard and lord Piper and his sons.

They were led to the middle of the great hall and before the high table.

The early morning sun streamed through the high windows of the great hall, casting the newcomers and lord Crakehall in a pale glow as the banners of house Tully and house Targaryen littered the red sandstone walls.

Jon allowed the silence to settle over the hall as he studied the lords before him. “I must confess my confusion, my lords, as to why two lords of the realm were fighting like children in the courtyard.”

Staring at the two lords before him, Jon felt like he was doing a bad impression of his lord uncle when he had gotten in trouble with Robb.

However, the method seemed to work on the two men, as lord Smallwood started to fidget and lord Crakehall stared at his feet. “It was nothing, your grace.” The later managed to grunt as he continued to stare at his boots.

“Nothing?” Jon asked raising a brow. “You almost came to blows over nothing?”

“Yes, your grace.” Lord Crakehall insisted while lord Smallwood said nothing, only nodding while glaring angerly at the larger man.

Jon almost snorted at the painfully bad lie. “Well since I have you here lord Crakehall, I want you to report to lord Mallister when this meeting is done. You and your men will be marching with the men from Seagard to the capital.”

Lord Crakehall´s face turned as red as an apple at the implication that he would be working under lord Jason for the foreseeable future. “You want me to work under Mallister, your grace?”

“Aye.”

Lord Crakehall opened and closed his mouth a few times before nodding in defeat. Jon gestured for the man to take his seat and turned his gaze to the Riverlords before him.

“Thank you for making the journey, my lords. I hope that it was uneventful.”

“It was your grace.” Lord Piper bowed deeply, his wild red hair sticking out in every direction. “It will be an honour to throw our strength with yours and fight under the Targaryen banner once again.”

Hearing Ser Brynden snort quietly behind him, Jon opted to ignore the Kingsguard for the moment. “Thank you, my lord. Your support is greatly appreciated.”   

The doors of the hall opened with a great bang, making the lords all whip around to maester Vyman come rushing into the large room, the chains around his neck clinking with every step. “Your grace.” The man huffed trying to trip on the long grey robes he was wearing as his wrinkled face was contracting with horror.

“Your grace.” The man said again as he neared the high table. “A raven for you, from Oldtown.”

The surprised looks on the lords faces mirrored Jon´s feelings rather well as the maester of Riverrun rushed over to him and handed him a small scroll.

Taking the letter from maester Vyman´s soft hands, Jon saw that the grey seal had been broken. Turning to look at the maester, the older man looked regretful. “I apologize your grace. I saw the seal and I thought it was for me. It did not occur to me that anyone else would get letters from the citadel.”

Opening the letter in his hands, joy spread though him at seeing Sam´s familiar handwriting. Yet that happiness was only short lived as the hastily written words glared up at him, bringing news of death and destruction.

Clearing his throat, Jon looked up from the letter and looked over the hall that was filled with the curious faces of the lords of the North, the Vale, the Westerlands and the Riverlands. “My lords, there is news from the Reach. It seems that Euron and the Ironborn have left the West and sailed south to Oldtown.”

Guilt pooled in his belly at the thought that he had sent Sam, Gilly and the babe to Oldtown, where Euron Greyjoy and his Reavers were now raiding.

Were they dead? Had they been taken as thralls to serve on the Iron Islands?

The furious looks were not just on the faces of the lords of the West when Euron Greyjoy was mentioned but also on the faces of the lords of the North, who remembered the stories that had come pouring from the homes when they had been away at war in the Riverlands.

The cursing of Euron Greyjoy´s name could be heard from every corner of the great hall, Lord Crakehall was even heard swearing bloody vengeance against every Ironborn that dared to cross his path.

“I SAY WE RIDE TO OLDTOWN AND KILL EVERY IRONBORN WE CAN FIND.” Galbart Glover jumped to his feet and thrust his fist into the air and he was met with cheers from all around the hall.

“The Greyjoy´s will be long gone when we make it to the borders of the Reach, much less Oldtown.” The Greatjon said, sending an impatient look to the lord of Deepwood Moat. “We would do better to ride to King´s Landing and hope to meet them there.”

“Why on earth would the Ironborn go to King´s Landing?” The newly seated lord Piper asked with a deep frown on his face.

“Maybe Euron has designs on the Iron throne.” Lord Banefort looked around the hall, almost as if seeking support to his argument. “They started in the North and then moved to the West and are now raiding in the Reach. If they keep this up, they will likely be heading to the capital.”

“Or the slave markets of the Free cities.”

Everyone turned to look at lord Varys, who had been standing not too far behind the high table. Gone was the heavy gown the man had been wearing and in its stead was doublet and trousers in browns and greys, making him almost blend in seamlessly into the background. “After Daenerys Targaryen conquered Slavers Bay, the price of slaves has risen considerably all over Essos.”

“Are you saying that they are taking our people to sell into slavery?” Lord Banefort looked horrified at the implication.

“According to my little birds the Ironborn are taking a lot of people captive. A lot more than they usually do on their raids, I cannot imagine any other purpose from their actions.”

“This cannot stand.” The newly arrived lord Theomar slammed his fist into the table, anger shining in his eyes. “The Ironborn must be defeated.”

“Lord Umber is right.” Ser Jaime Lannister´s voice cut through the noise of the lords cheering in agreement with lord Smallwood. “We will never reach Oldtown in time.”

At the fact that Jaime Lannister was agreeing with him, the Greatjon looked bewildered and seemed to hardly believe what he was hearing.

Jon steeled himself, knowing that there was only one thing he could do. He owed it to Sam, Gilly, the babe and the people of Oldtown.

“I agree.” Jon said with a frown, making everyone fall silent and look at him. “Lord Royce, lord Edmure, how soon can we start the march to King´s Landing?”

“As soon as you wish, your grace.” Lord Royce replied.

“Good.” Turning to lord Tully, Jon spoke again. “Can you send out your fastest riders to meet the Riverlords still on the way here, to tell them to meet us on the road?”

“Of course, your grace.”

“Ser Brynden.” Jon spoke to his lord commander, who seemed to straighten. “I will leave you in charge while I am away.”

“Away?” Dead and horror dripped from his voice as he felt the stare of every lord in the hall on him.  

“Aye.” Jon nodded and turned to the lords. “I will take Rhaegal and Viserion to Oldtown and help defend the people from the Ironborn.”

THE INNKEEPER´S DAUGHTER

Her face hit the wooden deck of the ship and she felt the pain burn and her vision darken. Myrna could only barely make out the words that were exchanged between the reaver, who had pulled her by the hair to the ship that she was now held prisoner in, and another man.

When her sight cleared up, Myrna looked at who her capturer was talking to and was not surprised that she did not recognize him. Yet the man looked highborn, his clothing was far too well made even if he was covered with dirt and blood, to be of smallfolk stock.

As she observed the two men, a large set of hands grabbed her wrists so hard that she thought for a moment that the man who had grabbed her, intended to break them. No, instead the Ironborn man clamped her in cold iron and fastened the chain to the deck.

Feeling the horror and dread rise in her, a sob wanted to burst out of her and yet, Myrna managed to push it down, knowing that it was never a good idea to draw the attention of men like the Ironborn.

It was better to keep your head down and pray that they did not notice you.

Myrna watched silently as the Ironborn dragged more people onboard the ship, women, men and children; all were chained to the deck and forced to stand silently and completely still by their captors. When the reavers had almost filled the ship with prisoners, she could hear shouts and hollers from them; ordering the men to unfasten the ship from the small stone dock that lay in between two warehouses.

As the ship silently slipped from the dock, Myrna could hear something bump against the wooden hull. Twisting her neck slightly so that she could see what it was, Myrna was horrified when she locked eyes with a milky eyed corpse floating between the ship and the stone pier.

The body was pale grey and wearing the Hightower armour that she had so often seen when helping her father serving ale, that only seemed to make the man even paler. The ship pressed on, pushing the guard´s body away almost like a fine lady waving off a fly.

“By the Seven.” Myrna looked up as she heard a young woman beside her gasp under her breath. Following her horrified gaze, Myrna felt her stomach drop and she could hardly believe her own eyes.

The Hightower that had stood for thousands of years on the Battle Isle had always been a source of comfort for the citizens of Oldtown.

Yet now, the enormous tower that had stood proud since the arrival of men was being bombarded with the boulders from the machines that maester Samwell had called ballista. 

Faintly, Myrna could hear the woman beside her start praying and murmurs of how it was the end times.

“Quit your mewling.” A reaver growled as he walked past smacking the woman in the face so hard that she fell to the ground.

Myrna went to kneel and help the other woman up but was stopped. “Don’t you dare move.” The reaver hissed, his eyes promising pain. “You move and you will regret it girl.”

Clenching her small fists, Myrna stood still as a statue and averting her eyes, praying that the man would lose interest in her when she did not fight his orders.

The woman was still on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably as she asked the Mother to protect her. Her prayers seem to make the man even more furious as rushed forward and punched her in the face. “Be quiet or I will cut out your tongue and feed it to you.”

The man pulled out a dagger from his belt and held it close to the woman´s tear filled eyes. He stared at the now silently crying woman, a deranged smile on his face before he walked away, tucking the blade back.

As the ship sailed towards the sea, the people who had been taken all remained silent; hoping that they would not draw in any more attention to themselves from the Ironborn.

Turning her eyes away from their captors, Myrna´s eyes were drawn to the Hightower. It was so tall that it could be seen from anywhere in the city as its green flames licked the skies above it. Until the Ironborn attacked, Myrna had never seen it coloured green before, as her father had told her that the lord Hightower only lit the flames green when he was calling his banners.

They sailed underneath the tower´s shadow and even when she leaned her head back, she could not see the massive beacon on its top, only the emerald light from its fires against the darkening sky.

Hearing the Ironborn shout out their orders, Myrna wondered if they were headed for the lands that the invaders hailed from. As a child she had been told that the reavers came from the Iron Islands and often took people as thralls.  

She shuddered at the thought and looked back down into the Honeywine. More corpses floated down the river and the closer to the Whispering Sound they went, more bodies littered the water and the river seemed stained with their blood.

Myrna stared into the waters, unable to look away from the horror that the Reavers had created. Was her father down there? Floating and dead, at the whim of the Ironborn?

Was the kind maester Sam there?

Staring into the ever-reddening river, Myrna could hear the woman beside her start sniffling again, this time much quieter than before. Yet she could hear the woman mumbling the prayers that they could hear from the Starry Sept almost every day.

Regrettably it was not quite enough. The man who had hit the woman before came back, every step heavy and his eyes glinting with madness. “I told you to be silent.” Growling as he drew the dagger once again from his belt.

His movement was quick as the blade slashed across the praying woman´s throat. Blood gushed out immediately as her hand´s shot up and clutched at the wound, trying to stop the bleeding yet unable to.

The woman gasped for breath, the chains around her wrists clinking like the golden bracelets Myrna had once seen the daughter of lord Hightower wear, as she road through the city on her splendid grey palfrey.

As she fell to her knees on the deck; the reaver grabbed her face and reached down her mouth. With a terrible sound, like fabric being ripped, Myrna watched in silent horror was the reaver tore out the woman´s tongue.

A cold smile grew on the reavers face as he held it out for all to see and with that grin on his face, he shoved it down the woman´s throat before tossing her body over the railing, her wrists still chained to the deck.

With a loud thump, Myrna felt her heart skip when the woman´s body landed against the side of the vessel and she could hear her feet kicking against the ship’s hull.

“Let that be a warning to the next person who gets on my nerves.” The reaver stared at Myrna, daring her to start praying or make even the slightest noise of complaint.

Myrna quickly averted her eyes from his furious ones. Staring down at her feet, feeling his gaze on her as she listened to the woman´s kicks grow weaker until they blessedly stopped.

The man growled again, walking away as a shiver ran down her spine as a soft sea breeze swept over the deck.

The further away from the Hightower, Myrna felt her hands start to shake with fear and her heart beat faster. Trying to get her breathing under control, Myrna took a deep breath and immediately wished that she had not.

Turning to stare at her home, she felt the burning of tears in her eyes yet, she refused to let them fall. The invaders would have no such satisfaction from her.

As they travelled further from Oldtown, it became easier to see the damage done. Houses big and small lay in ruins and the huge boulders had left scars everywhere in their wake, as a haze seemed to descend on the city, growing thicker with every moment as the smell of ash, dirt and blood lingered strongly in the air.

Despite the damage done, Myrna saw the Hightower still standing proud and defiant in the face of the attack by the Ironborn ships, that seemed intent on bringing it down with the ballistae.

Feeling the ship turn, Myrna pulled her eyes from the city and looked to the other side of the ship.

There, a much larger vessel was completely still on the water. It´s hull almost indistinguishable from the blood-stained sea around it. The figurehead was in the shape of a woman, one outstretched hand reached for something in the distance.

Beneath the woman, at the place where the sailors that visited the inn called the prow, two figures were tied. One was a dark haired man who was loudly praying to the drowned god, asking him to send the waves up and sink the fleet. The other was a young woman, who was naked and completely still, her wet hair hanging around her face, obscuring it from sight.

The ship Myrna was chained to sailed slowly beside the larger one as she felt her stomach churn at the sight of the golden kraken on the black sail of the other ship. If there was any sigil of the highborn that she had come to hate, it was this one.

Now side by side, the men on the other ship called to the reavers who had taken her and the others from Oldtown and a plank was placed between the two ships, so that the men could walked from one ship to the other.

Then the ironborn started to unchain the captives one by one, walking them, still bound in chains over to the ship with the blood red hull.

The man who had killed the praying woman walked over to Myrna with a sickening grin on his face. “Your turn, cunt.”

As she unbound her from the deck, the thought of kneeing him in between the legs and throwing herself overboard entered her mind. However, she was forced to abandon the idea as she had never learned how to swim.

Dragging her onto the other ship, Myrna felt the chains around her wrists cut into her flesh. She bit her tongue to keep from shouting in pain, she did not want to meet the same fate as the praying woman.

Walking over to the other ship proved to be a difficult task, the waves causing the deck to rise and fall making Myrna stumble. Looking down into the blood red waters, she saw more bodies bump against the hulls of the ships, some floating facedown while others were staring up at the darkening sky, horror lingering on their faces even in death.

The reaver yanked even harder on the chains around her wrists, digging even deeper into her skin. Pulling her attention away from the dead.

As soon as she had stepped foot on the new ship, Myrna was forced across the blood red deck and was once again tried to a railing. The reaver that had dragged her over, turned to one of the crew. “Where is King Euron?”

The man did not answer, only turned and pointed to double doors on the other end of the vessel. The reaver growled and stalked over to the doors and knocked before walking through them.

Myrna looked at the other prisoners and it was now for the first time that she noticed that they were all relatively young. Her stomach contracted with dread.

They must be heading either to their invader´s homeland or to the slave markets beyond the Narrow Sea.

Her breath grew shallow with fear and her face went cold at the thought. The idea of being forced into slavery and live so far away from her father and the city that had been her home all her life, terrified Myrna.

She was so deep in thought and the fear had gripped her so tight that she almost missed the door opening again and the man walking out, this time however behind another man.

This one was as different from the other Reaver as could be. Tall, pale and handsome with a large smile on his face, Myrna found herself stuck by him. He was wearing black scaled armour and a leather patch over one of his eyes. The one that Myrna could see was as bright and blue as a clear summer sky, same as his lips that had been stained by some liquid she could not identify.

Ordering one of the crew, the tall handsome man strode forward and watched as the ships around the Hightower continued their attacks, with a wide grin on his face. “It won’t be long now.”

 “What about the riches?” The reaver asked the handsome man, a deep frown on his face. “The Hightowers must have great treasures in their tower.”

“You shall have treasures.” The smile did not leave his blue lips as he continued to watch the assault. “You shall have the Starry Sept and the rest of Westeros to raid to your heart´s content.”

He turned slowly to the Reaver, his eye crinkling at the corner and shining with laughter. “We need to show the people of the green lands what happens when they try and resist our conquest.”

The Reaver said nothing, only stared morosely at the Hightower as if he was mourning the treasures that were beyond his reach.

From bowels of the ship, a few crew members appeared, leading three men who all wore ripped and dirty robes that reached their toes, their flesh was pale and their eyes almost dead. Like the tall handsome man, they had a blue substance staining their lips.

They were led to the middle of the deck and the man in the dark armour walked over to them, a smile still on his face as he talked to them in a strange foreign language.

One of the strange men, one with a bald head, pale eyes and nails black as coals replied making the leader laugh. He said something back to the bald man in the strange language, then he walked away from them as their capturers forced the three men on their knees, all facing one another in the middle of the deck.

The men stated to chant lowly in a tongue that Myrna did not understand, their words strange to her ears and she felt the hair on her arms and the back of her neck rise the longer they chanted.

“My King.” The Reaver who had dragged Myrna and chained her to the deck walked again to the handsome man, a nervous look in his eyes. “Should we not wait until Victarion comes back from Essos with the Dragon Queen?”

The King only laughed; a joyless sound that made shivers run down her spine. “The Starks have their direwolves and the Targaryen´s have dragons. When my wife and Queen comes, I shall greet her with beasts of my own.”

Giving his crew a nod, the King returned to watch Oldtown, his blue eye alight with joyful malice. The men, who had remained silent ever since she had stepped on board all drew dirks and daggers from their belts, moving as one they rushed to the prisoners.

Slashing and stabbing the Reavers hacked at them before unbinding them from their chains and tossing them into the sea. Screams and cries drowned out the noise from Oldtown and when one of the silent sailors turned his cold gaze to her, Myrna knew that she would not leave this ship alive.

A man walked slowly towards her, a snarl on his lips. As he raised his dagger above his head something large bumped into the ship, making the man and everyone else stumble.

The one-eyed King laughed as he stood, almost unbothered by whatever had shaken the ship and turned to the three foreign men and shouted at them in their foreign tongue.

A large hand gripped her arm and Myrna whipped her head to see the man with the dagger having closed the distance between them. He raised his dagger again, leaning close to Myrna and bending her back over the railing, making the wood ding into her spine.

Then the thing bumped into the ship again and they both tumbled over the barrier. Myrna´s breath left her as she fell and as she heard a faint splash, a crack reverberated in her ears before she felt her wrists snap.

The scream that ripped out of her throat echoed of the water and she was sure that the weight of her body was going to tear her still chained hands off.

As the tears swelled in her eyes, she could only just make out the dark form of the Reaver King leaning over the railing.

Against the ever-darkening sky, the man looked like he had just stepped out of the stories her grandfather had told her, about monsters rising from the sea to take and eat little girls who did not behave.

His blue lips looked black as they were still stretched into a smile and over her cries she could hear him chuckle. He disappeared over the railing again and she could hear the clinking of chains.

Then she was falling again.

The sea greeted her harshly and the last of her breath was pushed back out of her body. Twisting and kicking, Myrna tried to swim towards the surface yet it was like the water was holding her in place.

Then she saw it. Out further in the depths something huge moved. Dark and terrible like the Reaver King.

The creature moved slowly, like a worm in the rain only, big enough to crush a house. Then another appeared and another, until they were all around her.

As the enormous worms went passed her, a great, giant abyss opened, surrounded by yellow glistening horns. It opened ever wider until-.”

Chapter Text

DAENERYS

The leather straps that were wrapped around her waist dug uncomfortably into her sides; despite the well-crafted Dothraki leathers she was wearing. Dany knew that she would have to have words with the new saddle maker about making changes. It would not do to have the saddle pain her when in use.

Dany had to concentrate on the battle going on in the city beneath her, not the pain flaring in her sides when Drogon was making a sharp turn in the air.

Circling over the red city, Dany watched her Dothraki riders charge through the streets while the Greyjoys attacked from the harbour, blocking any hope of escape to the sea.

There was a sense of justice that filled her when she saw the black fires of Drogon´s rage through the city. Latching on to anything flammable among the red bricks and destroying the last bastion of the Slavers.

The city where her faithful commander, Greyworm had been trained and mutilated as well as countless of other boys.

Under her reign there would be no tolerance for such practises. Where boys were trained to become Unsullied and babes taken from their mother´s breast to be killed before their weeping eyes, only for the slaver who owned them to be compensated because the child had been their property.

The very idea of Drogon being hurt and the person throwing money at her made her blood boil with the fury of the dragon.

Drogon let out a roar, almost as if listening to her thoughts as they flew the city again, the tips of his enormous wings almost brushing against the tallest of the buildings.

Daenerys Targaryen, first of her name would bring justice to all, for all the mothers who had lost their children and for all the children who had been forced to serve weak willed masters, who thought themselves better than they were.

Content with having others do the work for them, those infernal masters had never done a hard day´s work or sacrificed anything in their life. Not like her, who had been forced to grow up knowing that her birth right had been stolen from her and then sold into marriage.

However, Dany had risen like a dragon from the ashes. She had defied the odds and hatched three dragons back into the world and thrived where her weak brother had died.

If Viserys had been given the eggs, he would never have been able to hatch them and if somehow, he had been given a dragon, her brother would never have been able to train and control them, not like her.

Taking a deep breath as she urged Drogon to fly lower, feeling the heat from her dragon and the smoky air whip through her short, silver locks as the bells jingled merrily.

As Drogon took another turn, her eyes caught a glint of bronze in the sunlight. A familiar statue of a harpy with chains dangling from her talons in the centre of the Plaza of Pride, placed on a fountain of red bricks caused a surge of anger to rush through her.

That is where she had first met the Unsullied before freeing them from enslavement.

Ordering Drogon to fly over the Plaza, she felt the wind in her hair as she shouted the word, “DRACARYS”. The black flames rushed over the square and soon engulfed the harpy.

Circling around, Dany could see the once prideful creature start to melt into the brick fountain. The features of the harpy quickly distorting, turning the already horrid creature into an abomination before it descended completely into the water, causing steam to rise and the water to bubble like it was in a cauldron.

Drogon let out a shriek of victory as they flew higher in the sky. Never again would the Harpy rule over the Bay of Drogon.

Now it was hers. Completely and entirely.

Directing Drogon to fly to the largest pyramid in Astapor, Dany was sure that this defeat would break the Sons of the Harpy that had been terrorising Meereen in the masters´ name. Both Yunkai and Astapor had been punished for their treachery and soon she would be heading west to take back her throne.

Landing at the base of the pyramid, Drogon let out another roar that shook the very earth and caused her bloodriders to cheer wildly as their horses neighed and reared back in fright of the Dread.

Reaching around her waist, Dany begun the irritating task of loosening the knots that held her in saddle. Thankfully her fingers were quick, and it did not take her long to unbind herself from the contraption, yet Dany was determined to have the new saddle maker take a look at leather straps, to see if he could do a better job than his predecessor.

It would not do to have the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms struggle to unfasten herself from her dragon.

When she slid down from Drogon´s back, her mount shrieked and shook his great horned head. Patting his long, graceful neck, Dany smiled at him. He was getting easier to control and yet she knew that the saddle irritated him as much as it did her.

“Calm yourself Drogon.” Dany said to him, slowly working her way closer to his head.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her honour guard slowly making their way to her and Drogon and Dany noticed the terrified looks on the Dothraki Bloodriders as they neared the black dragon.

The black dread spotted them, and as soon as his blood red eyes turned to them, they stilled as they had been turned to statues. Turning his large head, forcing Dany to take a few steps back, Drogon let out a deafening roar in the men´s direction. 

Her Bloodriders moved back, their eyes wide with fear and the message seemed to have been received.

The Dread was not a horse and would not be treated as such.

Moving closer to his head, Dany watched as he bared his teeth, his red eyes darting between the hoard and the men who had dared to approach him, almost as if he was waiting to pounce.

“Be calm Drogon.” Dany repeated to her child in their mother´s tongue of High Valyrian. “Soon we shall leave this place and lay waste to our enemies.”

Letting out another shriek, this one a little softer and yet not any less threatening to anyone other than her who might dare come too close to him.

“My Queen.” Dany turned from her child when Daario Naharis called to her as he walked out of the pyramid with his trusted lieutenants of the Second sons. “We have secured the pyramid.”

As soon as Dany started to move towards Daario, Drogon let out another roar and took to the skies, kicking up the dust as he went. Allowing her Bloodriders to fall in around her.

“Another glorious victory under your belt, my Queen.” A handsome smirk was on the man´s face as he swaggered to her side. “You will be sitting on the Iron throne before you know it.”

“Good. The sooner, the better.” Dany watched Ser Barristan walk over and despite his self-imposed silence and best imitation of a statue, the man walked with the grace of a dancer to her side and fell into step just behind her to guard her back. “Soon we will be back home, Ser and we can start rebuilding the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Indeed, your grace.” His words were as stiff as a plank of wood and he stared ahead, his blue eyes not giving anything away.

Anger rose in her again at his response. She had just defeated the masters of Astapor and now the end of slavery was all but assured and he could not even be bothered to be happy for her success.

“My Queen, we have prepared the quarters for you in the pyramid.” Daario said, his eyes roaming over her body. “And I have taken the liberty of having your maids draw a bath for you.”

“Thank you, Daario.” Smiling at the man, Dany knew that he would need a more permanent position at her court before they left for Westeros. The man had served her well and faithfully and the reward needed to reflect that. “I shall take advantage of that immediately, meanwhile I shall leave the rest in your capable hands.”

Dany watched as the man´s face fell for a moment and disappointment shone in his eyes before it disappeared. “Of course, your grace.” Bowing deeply and throwing a wink her way, the man rushed forward to where the Dothraki were waiting for him. 

Dany and her guard were led into the pyramid and she could see many of the men taking down the golden statues and decorations that littered the halls. Turning to one of her Bloodriders, Dany spoke to him quickly in Dothraki. “I want all items of value to be shipped to Meereen just like we did in Yunkai. I have need of them for the war.”

Nodding, the man rushed to follow her command and quickly disappeared from her sight. Dany made her way to the top of the pyramid where the quarters that had been prepared for her were located and left her guard and lord commander outside.

She was greeted by her Dothraki maids who helped her disrobe and made her way to the white marble pool that was built into the floor, before the wide balcony, overlooking the bay.

Letting out a sigh, Dany allowed her body to sink into the water, that would have scalded anyone who was not of the blood of the dragon and allowed her aching muscles to relax.

One of the Dothraki women, Jhairri started to untangle the bells from her silver locks and put them aside to be cleaned before she started to wash Dany´s hair. 

There was nothing more divine than feeling the fingers of Jhairri´s massage her scalp and delicately detangling her silver hair as the scented oils tickled her nose.

The Dothraki girl, careful not to touch the bathwater, fretted over the silver locks. “It is a shame, Khalessi. That your hair was shortened in the Fighting Pit.”

Dany smiled at her, a warm feeling rising in her chest at Jhairri´s kind words. “It was a small sacrifice.” Replying to her in Dothraki, letting her small dainty index finger trace at the surface of the water. “In return I have Drogon back at my side.”

Her dearest child, who had helped her take back the Slave cities of Yunkai and Astapor, was worth losing a small part of her hair for a short time. Thankfully it was not an indignity she would have to suffer for that much longer.

“Yes Khalessi, the black shadow is the greatest mount in the world. Greater than any of the Khal´s have ever commanded.”

“He is.” Dany took a deep breath. The remnants of battle energy surging in her veins as she glanced at the red marks from the saddle. “He is Balerion the black dread reborn.”

Another servant girl handed her a cup of sweet wine. After taking a sip, Dany cheerfully noticed that the ache that had so often bothered her for the last few months stung less than normally and was much quicker to leave her. Putting the cup on the edge of the tub, Dany relaxed in the pool, allowing her violet eyes to close as she basked in the happy revelation.

“Can you tell me about him, Khalessi?” Jhairri asked quietly as she continued to work on her hair.

“Humm?” Slightly turning to look at the Dothraki woman, Dany raised a brow in a silent question.

“Balerion. Will you tell me about him?”

“Of course.” Dany smiled at the girl´s shy request. “Balerion was the mount of Aegon the Conqueror. He was as black of scale as Drogon and his wings were so vast that whole towns were cast in shadow when he flew overhead. It was his fires that melted the stone of the castle Harrenhall and ended Harren the Pretender and his line.”

“Who is Harren the Pretender?”

Dany tried to remember the last name of the master of Harrenhall and the more she thought the further it seemed to slip out of her grasp. “The King of the Riverlands.”

“Oh, I do not know where they are.”

Dany said nothing, allowing a hush to fall over the room as she stared ahead at the white marble walls. Viserys had told her that after Aegon the Dragon had burnt down Harrenhall, the lords of the Riverlands had flocked to him and sworn themselves to serve the Conqueror.

The oaths that their descendants had discarded when they rose in rebellion against her father. They would have to answer for their treachery.

Ser Barristan and lord Tyrion could say what they liked but the lords had no right to rise against their King and flock to the Usurper who had only been interested in the throne.

“The black dread´s fire could really melt stone Khalessi?”

“Of course, he could. Balerion was the greatest of the Targaryen dragons, until Drogon was hatched.” The pride that filled her at thinking about her beloved dragon almost made her forget about the traitors that awaited her in the Seven Kingdoms. No doubt they would try and cast the blame elsewhere or make her forget how they had betrayed her father.

But the dragon did not forget.

“So, the dread was just like the green one?”

“The green one? You mean Rhaegal?” Dany now turned in the pool to look at the girl as a frown pulled at her face. The water that had been delightfully warm only a moment ago, now seemed to grow colder.

“Yes, Khalessi.” The Dothraki girl´s face alight with curiosity and excitement shone from her face. “I have seen where the green one and the white one broke out of the pyramid of Meereen. The stone was still cooling down and I heard that some men were trying to shape the melted stone into jewellery to sell.”

“They are?” Dany knew that she should be surprised but for some reason she was not. The jewellery made from the fires of her dragons would be worth more than their weight in gold.

“Yes, Khalessi.” Jhairri smiled happily as Dany turned around again in the pool, the frown still on her face. “I even heard that many would be happy to have such unique and precious stones on their person. Even the Khal´s.” 

A strange feeling followed Jhairri´s words. A feeling that seemed to seep into her bones and claw at her innards.

Why did Rhaegal´s fires burn hotter than both Viserion´s and Drogon´s? Had it been a fluke or was there something else?

Dany could not find any reason as to why. Rhaegal was smaller than Drogon so why did his fire melt stone?

A soft knock could be heard on the heavy bronze door and one of the serving girls rushed to see who it was as Jhairri asked excitedly. “Can you tell me about the green one? I have never seen him up close.”

Dany felt the feeling rise in her again at the question. “Not now, Jhairri. Go and find out why someone is disturbing me.”

The girl rushed to the door where the other serving woman was talking to the person disturbing her rest.

Closing her eyes again Dany tried to relax but the question of Rhaegal´s fires continued to burn in her. Drogon was the greatest and largest of her three dragons, so why did his fires not melt stone?

“Khalessi.” Dany opened her eyes again as Jhairri spoke again. “Daario Naharis is asking for your attendance in the Harpy´s chamber. There is news.”

With a sigh, Dany stood up and climbed out of the pool, regretting having to leave the warm water, yet she knew that Daario would never dare to interrupt her without good reason.

After having dried, dressed and braided the bells back into her hair, Dany exited the chambers with Ser Barristan, who had been standing at the door following her.

The man remained silent as two Second sons opened the door to the Harpy´s chamber as Dany glared at the two facing beasts etched into the bronze door.

Inside the lofty room, with its tall pillars crafted into statues of tall women with their tails like scorpions as they reached to the ceiling as if holding the roof up with the tips of their bat like wings, stood Daario Naharis and Asha Greyjoy.

“My Queen.” The sellsword bowed deeply as she entered, while lady Greyjoy´s bow was stiff and quick as if it was the most painful experience of her life.

The woman would have to be watched. The Greyjoy´s could not be trusted.

“Why have you asked for me?” At her question the sellsword seemed to lose some of his former confidence.

“There has been an issue, my Queen. However, let me assure you that I will not rest until it is rectified.”

“Oh?” Raising a brow Dany walked over to a large table of beaten bronze that made Dany frown again. Her violet eyes traced the gold that had been expertly worked into shapes of Harpy´s and other monstrosities, even slaves fighting in what Dany assumed to the fighting pits of Astapor.

Taking her seat at its head, Dany turned her eyes to her lover. “What sort of an issue?”

Clearing his throat, Daario´s bright yellow outfit still covered with dust, ash and blood and his bright blue eyes alight with the aftermath of battle, Dany was sure that she had never found him as handsome as right now. “The masters of Astapor are nowhere to be found.”

“What?” Dany asked the man, her voice filled with anger as both he and lady Greyjoy seemed more nervous than before. “Where could they have gone off to?”

“We are not sure, my Queen.” The normally confidant man sounded so unlike himself at that moment that Dany felt herself grow uneasy. “We have looked everywhere and arrested their servants.”

Asha Greyjoy tried to look disinterested in their conversation, yet Dany was sure she could see a hint of a smile creeping onto her face. Feeling her blood boil at the lady´s smirk, the Queen wanted nothing more than yell and scream at her. The Ironborn had not come to her father´s aid when he had been faced with betrayals from every direction, the daughter of the man who had abandoned her father could not be relied upon.

“What are you doing about this?” Dany demanded, dragging her attention back to Daario while she barely managed to bury the anger at the other woman. “They need to be found and held accountable for their treasons.”

She could almost feel Ser Barristan´s gaze on her as the lord commander stood just behind her. Remembering how he had begged her to reconsider attacking Yunkai brought a dreaded thought in her head.

Had her knight helped the Slaver´s escape?

Almost as soon as the thought wormed its way into her mind, Dany cast it out. No, it could not be. The man was faithful to her.

Like how he was faithful to your father? A snide voice asked her. So faithful that he served the Usurper when she had been alive in Essos?

Pushing those thoughts out of her mind, Dany focused on the matter at hand. “Have the servants been questioned?”

“Not…sharply, my Queen.” Daario said, his words slow and precise.

Dany let the words hang in the air for a moment before nodding. “Question them. I want answers and I want them now.”

 SAM

The pain was the first thing that registered in his mind. It pressed him from all sides, clawing at him as the darkness swam across his mind, pulling him further under.

Trying to scream or yell for help, Sam felt something claw its way down his throat. It was like someone was holding a handful of sand and forcing down his mouth.

Sam thought he heard his name being called from far away. “Sam. Sam. SAM!”

A sharp pain flared in his face, as the voice grew higher and more panicked. His eyes shot opened, and a cough forced its way out of his mouth, leaving his throat burning with ache that it left in its wake.

Arms wrapped themselves around his neck and he felt someone hug him tight. “I was so worried about you Sam.” The Dornish accent tickled the ear and Alleras´ voice seemed rather higher with fear for him.

“I am fine,” Sam croaked like a dying frog as he hugged his friend back. “Where-.”

“We have to go.” Alleras demanded and rose to his feet, trying to pull Sam along with him. “We are not safe here. We must go.”

As he spoke an unearthly roar echoed of the ruined stone all around them, and he could see his friend shudder with fear. “What is that?”

Looking up to the sky, Sam felt hope that maybe Jon had arrived with his dragon. Yet he saw no hint of wings in the air. Only dust and smoke that had been lingering over the city since the Greyjoys arrived.

Alleras did not answer him, rather pulled him forward and dragged him along the ruined streets of Oldtown. Coughing and stumbling after his friend, Sam felt his vision fill with black spots that came and went like little bees rushing around his head. “Alleras stop, I must rest for a moment.”

The Dornish man halted and allowed Sam to lean against a half-collapsed wall. “Are you about to faint?”

“No, I don’t think so, I just need to breath for a moment.” Screams could be heard from all around the city from where Sam was gasping for air and hoping that his vision would clear up as another roar was heard. “What happened? What is that thing?”

Alleras looked pale and his eyes were wide. “A Kraken.”

Staring at his friend, Sam almost slid down the wall in his shock. “Krakens, here? How?”

The Dornish man´s horrified eyes stared into Sam´s own. “I was wrong. They aren’t taking prisoners to sell in the slave markets of Essos. They are killing people and throwing them into the sea.”

“What? They are just killing them?” A memory slithered through the fog of horror that rose in his mind. Reading about Aegon´s conquest, after the extinction of house Hoare, the sea around the Iron Islands had run red with blood and littered with the bodies of Ironborn. Krakens had risen from the deep and started to devour the corpses.

Instead of answering him, Alleras tugged on his arm again. “We cannot linger here. We are too exposed, and we need to get you back to the citadel.”

Alleras led him through the labyrinth of fallen and half fallen houses and as Sam´s eyes darted to the direction of the Honeywine, as if trying to see the beasts of the deep. Yet they remained obscured, and the only indication that the krakens were there, were the deep roars and screams of terror.

Trudging forward, they made their way further away from the river, away from the kraken, and hopefully away from the Reavers.

Sam´s hopes were dashed as they heard shouting coming from behind them, and he felt his heart leap with fear as Alleras gripped his arm harder, dragging him forward.

The Reaver´s war cries reverberated off the stone walls and streets and Sam felt his legs scream in pain from the effort it took for him to run and keep up with Alleras. His vision started to darken again, and he stumbled.

Letting go of Alleras´ hand, Sam fell onto the stone pavement, his cheek crashing against the hard surface, agony spreading like wildfire through his head. “Sam.” The Dornish man´s cry sounded far away again, and it took everything Sam had in him to call back.

“RUN.” The Ironborn rush closer to him, likely having heard them over the crashing of boulders and the roar of the krakens.

Feeling hands on his body, Sam thought at first that the Ironborn had grabbed him, however his friend growled in his ear. “I am not leaving you Sam.” Alleras struggled to help him up, and as the darkness gave away again, Sam looked behind them where the dornish man was looking.

Four Reavers stood there, each with a smirk on their lips and murder in their eyes. “More food for the kraken.”

Alleras pushed Sam behind him, fire in his dark eyes as he unsheathed a short sword from his belt. “Run Sam.” The order fell from his lips that normally would have sent the black brother scurrying.

“No, I am not leaving you either.” His voice wavered and cracked with fear, yet he planted his feet firmly on the ground. Sam moved to take his own sword in hand, only to bump into the empty scabbard as the Ironborn laughed.

“A fat boy and a Dornish man.” The Leader mocked, his own crude iron axe in his hand that was covered with blood. “This will be the easiest meal for us to give the king´s beast today.”

“Go Sam, run to the Sept.” Alleras ordered.

However, Sam did not listen.

Another sound reached his ears. A sound that started low and rose with every heartbeat. Iron on stone, neighing of horses and the war cries of men.

Now it was Sam´s turn to grab Alleras by the hand. “Run.” Alleras was so surprised by the action that it was hardly difficult for Sam to drag him away.

The Reavers laughed again and started to follow them, too drunk on violence and bloodshed to pay any attention to the growing noise of the cavalry.

It happened so suddenly that Sam was grateful that he had not been trampled down. A flash of green and gold, and Sam pushed himself and his friend against a mostly intact wall, pressing them against the hard stone.

They huddled against the wall, hoping that the tidal wave of Highgarden men did not push them under.

As the horses slowed down, Sam dared to look up. A man mounted on a bay destrier, glowered down on Sam and Alleras, a shining round shield in hand with the golden rose of Highgarden painted beautifully on its surface, and feathers flowing like a mane from his helmet. “You are not Ironborn. Go to the Starry Sept, that is where all the smallfolk are to gather.”

The knight made to ride off, yet Alleras was quicker. “We are novices at the Citadel.”

The tall man on his fine mount rolled his eyes. “Then go to the citadel, you will only get underfoot.”

“What is the meaning of this?” A calm voice carried over to them, as a splendid figure clad in green and gold of house Tyrell appeared, mounted on a grey horse that tossed its shining mane to and fro as it snorted at the smell of smoke and blood.

Sam stared wide eyed at Ser Garlan Tyrell as his directed his destrier to where they were speaking with the knight. “My lord,” The knight bowed as lowly as he could, while still mounted. “These maesters do not want to go to the Sept like you have ordered.”

Alleras opened his mouth to protest his words, however as Garlan looked over at them, his brown eyes widened. “Samwell Tarly?”

If not for the Ironborn assault from the river and the roars of the Kraken, there would have been dead silence. “Yes?” Sam fidgeted nervously as he glanced at the second son of Mace Tyrell, who seemed to glow with excitement at seeing him.  

“Get horses for lord Samwell and his friend,” Garlan barked out an order to one of his men and turned to the knight who had first spoken to them. “I want you too escort them to the citadel; you can have twenty mounted men with you.”

The knight who had found them, looked miffed at the order, yet nodded none the less. “As you say my lord.”

The horses arrived quickly, and Sam was astonished over their luck. However, he could feel nervousness and worry nag at him. Had his father told the lords of his theft of Heartsbane? Or was it...?

They rode with all haste through the streets of Oldtown, their horses sometime struggling when faced with the destruction left by the Ironborn and even sometimes forced to take alternate routes to their destination.

Yet finally, they arrived at the gates of the citadel. Sam was grateful to pass beneath the sphinx statues and be behind its walls. Unlike when he had left the courtyard to travers into the city to help the soldiers and the guardsmen, now it was filled with men clad in the green and gold of house Tyrell.

As the knight who had led their escort spoke with a man clad in green, Sam clumsily dismounted from his horse. His thighs ached and he thanked the old gods and the new that they had arrived. Samwell Tarly was not a great rider, and he never would enjoy riding a horse.

The knight allowed them no rest and insisted that both Sam and Alleras follow him into the scribe´s hall.

The tables and stalls that were normally occupied by novices writing away with abandon, had all been pushed against the wall, leaving only a long table in the middle of the hall.  At its head, a young man sat, staring at something in front of him, with a terrifyingly familiar figure hovering at his shoulder.

Randyl Tarly spotted Sam and Alleras first. At first, Sam thought that he would be set on fire by his father´s stare alone, and he felt his trembling legs freeze to the floor, refusing to budge.

Alleras grabbed his upper arm and tugged him loose, gently guiding him after the knight. “Lord Willas, Samwell Tarly is here.”

The future lord of Highgarden looked up and Sam could see the excitement glitter in his brown eyes. “Lord Sam.” A comely smile grew on his face as he stood up with the aid of his cane. “I am so very glad to see you hale and whole. I have been longing to speak with you.”

Glancing at where his father stood, his face red and twisted in fury at seeing him slowly make his way to lord Willas, Sam wondered if lord Randyl would demand Heartsbane from him there and then, before ordering his execution.

“Thank you, my lord.” Sam´s voice wavered slightly as he waited for his father to finally speak. “How can I assist you?”

Willas Tyrell smiled as he turned to Sam´s father. “Lord Tarly, you have your orders. I am sure that you will execute them perfectly.”

At the blatant dismissal, lord Randyl´s face turned from furious to annoyed and to furious again. Bowing rigidly to lord Willas, lord Tarly left the room, but not before sending Sam a soul withering glare as he stalked out.

Staring after his father, Sam wondered why the man had not demanded Heartsbane back this instant and demanded his head for the theft.

“Have a seat, lord Sam.” Willas Tyrell gestured for one of the chairs at the table and introduced himself to Alleras courteously.

“I will get straight to the point, lord Sam.” As lord Willas sat down, Sam could see the pain cross his face from the old injury. “I have been told by Arch maester Marwyn that you are a friend of king Jon Targaryen. Is this true?”

Glancing at Alleras, who had taken a seat beside him, Sam clenched his fist in his lap. “Yes.”

Lord Willas´s shoulders seemed to relax, and the man let out a breath, as if relieved. “Does king Jon have dragons under his command?”

“Wow, you truly are getting to the point.” Alleras said, raising a brow and leaning back in his chair.

“I don’t think that we have time for courtesies, do you?” The Tyrell heir replied softly as the sounds of boulders crashing seemed further away now that they were inside the citadel. Grabbing a map of Oldtown that had laid quietly before him, Willas pointed to the river. “We have not been able to harry the Ironborn from the Honeywine. They are dug in too deep and they have their ships and their continuous assault on the city by sea is making it too hard for us to press forward.”

“What about the Redwyne fleet?” Sam asked looking towards where the Arbor lay beyond the map. “Surely lord Paxter will come to Oldtown´s aid.”

“The last we heard from the Arbor is that they were under siege and their fleet was sailing around the arm of Dorne.” Willas frowned at Sam. “Which is why I need to know if it is true that your friend, king Jon has dragons large enough to come to our aid.”

“Surely any dragons king Jon has are only small hatchlings at this point.” Alleras said, his voice coloured by disbelief. “Every text about the Targaryen dragons claimed that it took years for them to grow to the size to join a battle.”

The memory of Jon´s confession to him about how he was warging into one of the dragons that Daenerys Targaryen had hatched echoed in his mind.

“I have heard whispers that Jon Targaryen as two dragons from the east, one he has already ridden into battle against the bastard of Bolton.” Lord Willas said, his eyes fierce as he looked from Alleras to Sam. “They say that he has chosen the green one, the bigger one and that they came from Daenerys Targaryen, abandoning her for your friend.”

Sam´s mouth almost dropped open for the shock of lord Willas´s accurate reports.

“I want you to write to your friend.” Willas said after a moment of silence. “Write to him and ask him to come to our aid. If he comes, I will swear this by the old gods and the new, that my brother and I will bend the knee and swear our swords and council to him.”

“But not those of your father?” Alleras piped up before Sam could even formulate an answer.

Sighing deeply, Willas looked exhausted and pained as she retorted. “My father has decided to throw his lot in with the boy in Storm´s End and married my sister Margaery to this…Aegon.”

“Convenient.” Alleras crossed his arms over his chest. “Now house Tyrell can be on both sides of the war, you will win no matter who sits on the Iron throne.”

“You think that this boy who had no dragons and no proof that he is the son of Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen can win against a man who has been rumoured to have six dragons?” Willas asked, raising a brow as he reached for a flagon of wine and poured them each a cup. “My father may have doomed himself by allying with the boy, however there is still a chance I can save my sister and my youngest brother.”

Handing Sam a cup filled Arbor gold, Willas Tyrell continued. “You are his friend, lord Sam. You will know his character better than anyone I have under my command. Could king Jon be persuaded to spare my brother and sister?”

Holding the cup not taking a sip, Sam did not hesitate. “Yes. Jon made peace with the Freefolk at the Wall after eight thousand years of fighting; you will be able to ally yourself with him.”

Willas closed his eyes and let his head rest against his hands and Sam thought that he could hear the older man whisper something suspiciously like, thank the Seven. “Please write to him. Beg him to come to Oldtown and help us defend the city and hel-.”

Whatever Willas Tyrell intended to say, was cut off, by an unearthly roar. It was not the deep grumbling ones of the krakens.

No, this one was high and shrieking. One that cut into his ears and shook the citadel. His heart raced in his chest as Alleras jumped to his feet, his dark eyes wide. The Dornish man rushed out of the scribe´s hall with Sam lumbering behind him, supporting lord Willas outside.

The first Sam noticed was the soldiers rushing around, call and shouting. The second was that another roar echoed the first one, coming from the sky.

Looking up Sam thought that he could see movement in the grey and brown skies above Oldtown. “SAM.” Alleras called from one of the walls, his eyes as wide as before, gesturing for him to come over. “LOOK THERE.”

Rushing forth, Sam climbed the stairs onto the wall standing between Alleras and too his shock Ser Jorah. The knight was staring up, his mouth open as a thin layer of ash dusted his shoulders.

Seeing where Alleras was pointing, Sam could see the ships around the Hightower were on fire. The flames were green and golden, streaked with bronze and white, leaping from ship to ship.

Another roar echoed over stone and waters, drawing Sam´s eyes to the sky. Then like an arrow, a huge green dragon dived almost vertically down, only to shriek and level himself along the river and breath a bright emerald flame from his gullet, burning at least twenty ships.

“Khalessi.” Ser Jorah breathed out gripping his bow tight. Sam would not have been able to hear him if he had not been beside him. “She has come to safe us.”

Sam watched as the green dragon quicky shot back into the sky, hiding in the clouds. Then another dragon shot down, this one shining white and golden mimicking the larger dragon, diving and breathing fire on multiple ships before disappearing into the clouds again.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Sam turned and saw that lord Willas had joined them on the wall, managing to sneak up on him even with his limp as Sam had stared at the dragons. “He is burning the fleet.” Lord Willas breathed out before turning to the men in the courtyard. “SEND OUT RIDERS, TELL OUR MEN TO ATTACK THE IRONBORN. PRESS THEM TOWARDS THE RIVER.”

Cheers and yells were drowned out by another roar, this one coming not belonging to the dragons.  

Chapter Text

JON

Jon leaned against Rhaegal’s scaly back, feeling the heat radiate though his leather armour as they hurled downwards towards the Whispering Sound. Rhaegal’s wings were tucked close to his body as the wind whipped past them and Jon watched the ash and blood-stained sea rapidly grow closer.

Ships littered the bay, many of them breaking and burning as their corpses sank to the bottom of the waters that the Ironborn had defiled, as the Kraken swung his tentacles wildly into the air.

The creature that had emerged from the deep, let out a wail as one of its limbs slammed into a ship, scorching its skin on the emerald flames dancing on the broken body of the vessel.

As quickly as it took to blink, Rhaegal snapped his wings open, halting their decent immediately and soon they were racing over the smoking waters as the dragon burnt every ship that came across them, as any and all ships that still remained seaworthy tried desperately to turn and head back west.

His knuckles turned white as he felt the anger burn in his chest as he watched them try and flee back to the desolate rocks that they called home.

Rhaegal had to have burnt at least twenty ships before they headed right back into the clouds, and Jon could see Viserion descend from the skies, and pale and golden wraith plunging towards the ships to deliver a fiery death to the Ironborn.

When they reached the lowest clouds, Jon felt the temperature was almost freezing and the air around him was getting a lot thinner, yet it was not enough to cool his fury at the Reavers. He remembered Theon Greyjoy brag about the Ironborn and how every man in the isles was a warrior, and every captain was a king.

However, Jon did not agree with Theon Turncloak.

The Reavers of the Ironborn were slavers and cowards that stole from better people.

Rhaegal turned in the air and then, they were again racing towards the sea.

Again and again, they burnt the ships of the Ironborn, before shooting back to the clouds before descending from the skies once again.

With every attack, Jon could see that the Kraken grew angrier, likely from the pain of the sea growing hotter with every attack, as it screamed and roared as it thrashed in fury, slamming its tentacles into anything that could reach, sending the smoking and steaming sea water into the air.

The beast did not spare anything, not the waves nor the ships of the Reavers.

Jon watched as a tentacle swung up from the sea, swinging up water and along with it, a few bodies that had been thrown into the Whispering Sound by the Reavers.

Jon’s lips twisted in disgust at the Ironborn as Rhaegal angled himself in the air, rising once again into the skies after a successful run against the ships.

The kraken slammed one tentacle onto the surface of the waters, and Jon could see the remains of a black hull and a broken figurehead of a woman with her hand outstretched, as if begging for someone to grab it and drag her out of the waters.

Rhaegal let out a breath of emerald flames, hitting close to the creature as it hurriedly retreated into the sea. As the green dragon passed over; the kraken’s limbs shot out of the waters after them, trying to get a hold on them to drag them into the depts.

Jon frowned as he glanced at the kraken, who he could still see from so high above the waters. It seemed to dislike the rapidly rising temperatures that were created as the dragons set the ships ablaze, and it would be a lot easier for them to just case it away.

He could not risk flying to close to the surface of the Whispering Sound, for he had little interest in recreating the fate of Jacaerys Velaryon and Vermax. However, they could make it so that the kraken simply gave up and headed for colder and more forgiving waters.

Rhaegal roared a challenge to the kraken, that was echoed by Viserion who joined them in their assault of the creature that had been attracted by the needless bloodletting of the Ironborn.

Again and again, the two dragons breathed their fires on the waters, making them steam and reek as the blood mingled with the water.

Pulling out of a dive, Jon glanced at Viserion as he made a pass over the kraken. A tentacle shot out of the waters and managed to grab onto white dragon’s leg, making Jon’s gut twist in worry.

Viserion shrieked in surprise as the tentacle snapped at his leg and another grabbed at his ankle. Beating his wings faster, the pale dragon roared as the kraken fought for a better hold, as he tried to dragon Viserion to the depths in its fury. 

Turning Rhaegal, Jon’s heart beat faster and faster as they hurtled towards Viserion, who roared and snapped at his attacker, while beating his wings faster as he struggled to stay aloft with the extra weight of the kraken.

Rhaegal roared in anger and Jon feeling the emerald dragon´s rage as the kraken wrapped another tentacle around the white dragon´s thigh even as Viserion rose slowly higher into the sky, trying to get away from his attacker, lifting the tentacled creature out of the water.

Closing the distance, Rhaegal snapped his maw at the body of the kraken, far away from the grotesque limbs that were clinging to Viserion, trying to tear the beast away from his sibling.

“VISERION, DRACARYS.” The word tore itself out of Jon´s mouth before he had even a finished the thought.

Viserion was quick to respond, letting out torrent of golden flames that landed directly where the tentacles grew from the body of the beast as he tried to fly higher into the sky, away from its reach.

The kraken roared again, its painfilled cry filling the air as it hastily let Viserion go, trying to escape the flames.

The pale dragon lunched himself forward, biting down on the kraken as the two dragons swirled around in the air, and together Rhaegal and Viserion broke away from one another, tearing the kraken apart, each one with one half of the beast in their mouths.

The sickly-sweet smell tickled at Jon´s nose as the odour of burning kraken meat lingered in the air around him, masking the scent of dust, ash and blood.

Rhaegal balanced himself in the air again, beating his enormous wings as Jon scanned the Whispering Sound. The broken bodies of the ships that had made up the Ironfleet, littered the waters as they slowly sunk into the blood-stained sea.

Gliding over the graveyard of ships, Rhaegal still had his half of the kraken. There was a smugness that radiated of the emerald dragon. From having captured such a large pray.

Hunger seemed to rush over Jon. A hunger not his own and he urged Rhaegal to turn, which the dragon was only too happy to obey.

Flying towards the city, Jon could spot the banners of the houses of the Reach littering the streets everywhere, much to his relief.

Circling over Oldtown, Jon kept his eyes on the streets and buildings. Trying to spot any reavers.

After a flying over the city a few times, Viserion ever at their heels, he could see Ironborn rushing into buildings to take shelter in. Taking note of the locations, Jon steered Rhaegal to the citadel. He needed to see Sam and make sure he, Gilly and the babe were alright, now that the ships of the Ironborn had been dealt with.

Rhaegal´s huge wings kicked up dust as he landed on the wall surrounding the Citadel of the maesters as half of the kraken dangled from his mouth.

Slowly and carefully, Rhaegal climbed off the wall, as the people in the courtyard all stared at them. Jon was not blind to the fear in their eyes as they watched them make their way of the wall. Resting a hand on Rhaegal´s emerald scales, Jon urged him to move slowly and in the least threatening manner a huge dragon could possibly manage.

Rhaegal dropped the carcass in his mouth as he lowered himself to the ground, his chest, neck and head lying flat against it, allowing Jon to dismount from his back.

As he climbed down from Rhaegal´s back, Viserion landed beside his brother, with his own half of the pray between his teeth.

Stepping forward, Jon gave Rhaegal a rub on the nose before directing his attention to Viserion. Looking over the pale dragon, Jon could not see any injuries, yet he knew that Viserion would need to be watched carefully over the next days, just to make sure.

Giving Viserion a rub like his brother, Jon smiled at him before turning to scan the gathered crowd for a familiar face. Beside a tall young man, gripping a cane stood the man Jon had been looking for.

Sam grinned happily at him and rushed forward, not even paying the huge dragons beside Jon any mind. His brother slammed into him, causing Jon to take a step back as they hugged. “Are you alright Sam? And Gilly and the babe?”

“We are fine.” Sam let go, his smile so wide that it split his face. “Gilly and baby Sam are in the Sept.” Jon nodded, feeling relieved that he had not sent his best friend, a woman and her child to their deaths.

Hot gust of wind blew away his thought as whatever Sam had intended to say halted in his mouth, as Rhaegal leaned in closer and studied him with his molten eyes. “This is them.” Sam asked, his eyes wide and curious.

Jon remembered how afraid Sam had been of Ghost when they had first met, yet now, meeting a huge fire breathing dragon, he seemed almost unafraid. “Aye, this is Rhaegal, and that,” Jon gestured to the pale dragon who sniffed the air before turning his gaze to his well-earned meal. “Is Viserion.”

“May I?” Sam looked at Jon and then at Rhaegal, who was staring at Sam with inquisitive eyes.

Nodding, Jon watched as Sam reaching out his hand and stopped halfway to Rhaegal´s snout. The large dragon sniffed at him carefully before he gently closed the distance, allowing Sam to give him a rub.

Jon could hear the gasps around the courtyard, as the crowd that had gathered there watched Sam so nonchalantly pet Rhaegal.

“Your grace.” The man leaning on a cane limped forward and bowed deeply. “I am Willas Tyrell, the heir to Highgarden. I thank you for coming to our aid.”

Nodding, Jon turned his attentions away from where Sam was still admiring Rhaegal. “There is no need my lord. If it were at all possible, could I trouble you for a map of the city? During our flight I noticed that the Ironborn were taking refuge in some of the buildings near the harbour. I would like to mark them for you and your men.”

Lord Willas nodded eagerly. “Of course, you grace, at once.” Gesturing for a young maester to fetch a map, they did not have to wait long for him to return.

The maester arrived with a detailed map and a table so that they could lay it on as well as charcoal. As he marked the buildings he had seen Ironborn take shelter in, Jon felt Sam come to his side as Rhaegal turned his attention to his supper.

“These are the buildings that I saw them enter, however there could well be more.”

“Thank you, your grace, this will prove invaluable to our men.” Lord Willas´s brown eyes drifted across the map once more. “Oldtown and the Reach are in your debt.” Moving slightly, lord Willas stood back and gripped his cane so hard that his knuckles turned white as every soul in the courtyard watched.

Lord Willas leaned hard on his cane as he forced his knees to bend, quickly followed by the others who were watching. “Your grace. I pledge my fealty to you and your house. The Reach and Highgarden are yours to command.”

Jon felt the comforting heat radiate of Rhaegal, a steady presence of strength when he was sure that the world was going mad. “Thank you, my lord, you may rise.” He fought the urge to reach forward and help the other man back to his feet. Lords were proud, and likely many would disparage the man for having an injury that prevented him for fighting. Having Jon help to his feet would only exacerbate that the image of frailty.

So, Jon kept still, allowing the man to take his time to get to his feet. “Thank you, your grace.” Lord Willas´s face was pale from the effort it had taken, yet his eyes convey his gratitude for not having Jon reach forward to help him. “Your grace I have heard that you have negotiated peace between you and the Lannisters.”

Nodding, Jon hoped that the peace was still alive and well.

The tensions between the North, the Riverlands and the West were still high, and he just hoped that the threat of the Others was enough to quell them while he was away. “Aye, Ser Jaime and I have talked and came to an understanding, however, his sister is still in King´s Landing and declaring her son as the king of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Lord Willas looked relieved to hear about the peace between him and the West. “My father, your grace, has always been a supporter of house Targaryen, so when he heard that this Aegon was the son of Rhaegar he immediately rushed to Storm´s End where he was staying, instead of going to Highgarden as I had hoped after I sent men to rescue him and my younger siblings from Cersei and the Faith militant.”

Lord Willas swallowed hard, and Jon wished that he had brought Arya with him, as she always knew when someone was lying.

“My father has never been a wise man.” Lord Willas continued in a low tone so only Jon and Sam could hear him. “He is easily fooled and his wishful thinking for a son of Rhaegar Targaryen may have made him more foolish than he has been before.”

Jon watched the man in silence, listening to him as he waited for the plea for his father´s life as well as that of his siblings that was coming.

He had to admit, even just to himself, he would never be able to respect a man who would have just allowed his family to be branded traitors, and he knew if they could not come to an agreement, Jon would be forever looked over his shoulder when it came to house Tyrell.

A slight burning in his chest where Olly had stabbed him flared up.

He had learned his lesson in ignoring the will of those who served under his command. It was a mistake he was not eager to repeat.

Allowing Lord Willas to continue, Jon stayed as silent as the grave, only watching and waiting for him to speak his mind.

“I know that my father will have to face consequences for his actions, however, my sister had no choice but to marry this Aegon. My father would have insisted and when they entered Storm´s End they would have been prisoners in all but name, and from what I have learned the Faith militant tortured my brother Loras.”

Willas Tyrell cleared his throat, glancing at Rhaegal who was eating behind Jon, while watching out for any threats.

“What do you propose, my lord?” Jon asked finally, watching the man carefully.

Lord Willas glanced at the few maesters that were gathered in the crowd. “My father could be persuaded to step down from the lordship of Highgarden, in favour of me taking up the title.”

Jon had to force himself to stay quiet and continue listening to the man. It would not be enough.

His own lords would skin him alive if they found out that Jon had agreed to such favourable terms with house Tyrell.

“And I am sure that the new High Septon would be amicable to dissolving the marriage between my sister and Aegon on the grounds that Aegon claims to be the son of Rhaegar and he has not provided any proof of his claims.” Lord Willas seemed rather confidant that whoever the new High Septon would be that he would dissolve the marriage. “My brother on the other hand is a good swordsman, one of the best in all of Westeros. He would be a good household knight for any house sworn to you.”

“Has the new High Septon been elected?” Sam piped up after standing silent beside Jon.

“Not yet.” Lord Willas said. “But when one is elected, I have no doubt that they will have amiable to decide in our favour.”

“It is a good start.” Jon said slowly. “However, more is needed I am afraid.”

There was no change in lord Willas´s face, as if the man had been expecting Jon´s stance on the matter. “Your brother Loras serving as a knight is acceptable. I am sure that Lord Edmure Tully will be happy to have him serve at Riverrun.”

A slightly disappointed look crossed lord Willas´s face, likely the man had hoped to have his brother serve closer to Highgarden or even at the Red Keep, yet he nodded his consent. “Your father and sister on the other hand, are a trickier matter.”

Jon allowed the words to sink in before continuing. “As long as he remains alive, there would be those who would claim that you are not the lord of Highgarden.” Jon could see the man´s face fall and grow pale. “Your father holds to the faith of the Seven, does he not?”

At Jon´s question, lord Willas looked baffled for a moment, before realizing where Jon was going with this. “He does indeed.”

“Perhaps your father desires to take the vows to serve as a Septon, there must be many holds lacking one after the rise of the Faith Militant.” Jon suggested, watching the man carefully. “I know that House Manderly is of need of a new one, after the last one died of old age.”

It could not be said that lord Willas Tyrell was slow on the uptake, for he immediately answered. “Yes, I am sure that the next High Septon would be happy to allow my father to take the vows and serve at Newcastle.”

“About your sister.” Jon said slowly as his eyes drifted back to the future lord of Highgarden.

“My sister may have said her vows to this Aegon, but they were vows made at the point of a sword.” Lord Willas insisted. “Their marriage is invalid and the new High Septon will declare it so.”

“And if she is with child?”

“It will be a bastard.” Willas said in a low voice. “A bastard with no claim to the throne.”

Staring at the man for a moment, Jon heard Rhaegal move about and take a huge bite out of his meal. “She will have to marry,” lord Willas nodded, as Jon spoke. “As will you.”

“Of course, your grace.”

“Good, then we are in agreement.” Jon could see the concern seep on to the man´s face. “Do not worry my lord. You shall have a say in this.” Lord Willas looked baffled at his words.

“Truly? Your grace?”

“Of course, neither you nor your sister should be forced to spend the rest of your lives with someone who makes you miserable.”

“Thank you, your grace. I shall not forget the kindness you have shown house Tyrell this day.”

Then, there was a shift in the wind, and Rhaegal picked up a familiar scent, as Jon´s eyes shot to the gathered crowd. “Your grace?”

“Is Ser Jorah Mormont here?” He asked both lord Willas and Sam, who had remained silent by Jon´s side during their conversation.

“He is.” Sam nodded. “He came to be healed of Greyscale.”

Raising his brows Jon gave Sam a quiet look. “Sam-.”

“I know.” Sam interrupted in a low voice, so that only Jon and lord Willas could hear. “But lord commander Mormont wanted him to take the Black, and he did stay and help protect the city.”

Resisting the urge to sigh, Jon nodded before turning to the gathered crowd, where Rhaegal had picked up the man’s scent. “Ser Jorah Mormont. Why don’t you join us?”

At first, no one came forward from the crowd. Not until Rhaegal hissed low in his throat and Jon spoke again. “Ser Jorah, I know you are there, please step forward.”

Then the crowd moved. Ever so slowly a large man, bearing a striking similarity to the Old Bear stepped forth, his eyes stuck to the emerald dragon before him.

“How?” The Old Bear´s son whispered as his eyes went from one dragon to the other. “What?...How did you?...”

“I had thought you to have been in Essos Ser.” Jon stared at the slaver, his eyes hard and voice unyielding. “Were you not serving my aunt, Daenerys Targaryen in Meereen?”

Ser Jorah´s dark, deep-set eyes found Jon, anger swirling deep within them. “How did you do this?”

“I did nothing, Ser.” Jon placed his hand on Viserion´s nose, as the pale dragon hissed at the man and spoke loudly enough so that the people gathered could hear. “You on the other hand, have done a lot. Selling your smallfolk into slavery and then when my uncle comes to deliver justice, you fled to Essos, like a craven.”

The former lord of Bear Island squirmed as the people gathered in the courtyard hissed and spat insults at him. “I have been working to banish slavery, alongside, Daenerys Stormborn of house Targaryen, the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

If he had thought that his declaration would have been met with cheers, then Ser Jorah was now sorely mistaken.

Jon observed the man for a moment before speaking again. “But I have also heard that you helped to defend Oldtown in its time of need.”

The silence in the courtyard was deafening. “And it is because of that reason, that I shall allow you a choice.”

Ser Jorah´s face turned red with fury, yet he did manage to hold his tongue, remaining quiet as Jon spoke again. “You can either travel to Castle Black and swear your life to the Nights Watch and regain your honour, like your father wanted. Or you can take the next ship to Essos and live out the rest of your life in exile.”

Jon glared at the man for a moment, as Rhaegal let out a snort of anger, smoke rising from his nostrils. “However, shall I ever lay eyes on you again, and you are not a brother of the Watch, then I shall remove your head from your shoulders, just like my uncle intended to do.”

The redness of the man´s face had disappeared, and he had turned as white as summer snow, and as lord Willas´s men escorted him away, Ser Jorah seemed hardly capable of forming words.

“He will not take the Black.” Sam said to Jon, his gaze looking troubled. “He will go back to Daenerys Targaryen.”

“I know.”

“Then why?” Sam frowned as he looked at Jon, his brows pulled in a puzzled frown.

Jon leaned closer to Sam. “Ser Jorah helped defend the city as you said, and he came to the citadel to seek healing. The maesters might take offence if I start executing the people who seek refuge in their own courtyard.”

“But what if he informs Daenerys Targaryen that you have the dragons?”

“My aunt will find out either way, sooner or later, eventually word will get to her. From what I hear she has yet to move from Slavers Bay, and it will take her months to make it to Westeros, even if she were to leave at this very moment.”

Despite his words to Sam, Jon was worried about what Daenerys Targaryen would do when she found out, and that day was growing ever closer.

Another Dance of the Dragons was something that did not fill Jon with longing.

Yet he knew that it might be inevitable.

They would need to prepare for her arrival. He had no illusions that the woman he had seen through Rhaegal’s eyes had any intentions of letting go of the Iron throne.

The blowing of a horn cut through the air as the guards announced that Sers Garlan Tyrell was returning.

As they entered the courtyard, cheers went through the crowd, as Euron Greyjoy was being dragged behind them, bound in chains along with a few other Ironborn, who despite the dirt and blood that covered their armour, were clearly highborn.

Euron Greyjoy’s dark hair wet and filled with dirt and ash as he fought his restraints. The man´s face was starting to swell around an injury that had cut through his face, removing his eye, and broken his nose.

A man clad in colours of house Tyrell was holding on to the chains as the crowds in the courtyard cheered for the knight, as he dragged the man who had put the city so mercilessly to the sword, after his horse.

The men were forced to halt their progression into the courtyard, as their horses grew nervous in the presence of the two dragons.

Lord Willas introduced the knight as his brother Garlan, and an older man who followed in his steps as Ser Baelor Hightower, the heir to house Hightower.

Before either man could speak, Greyjoy´s eyes landed on Jon, as Rhaegal hissed quietly as he and his brother guarded his back. The Reavers eye flickered between Jon and the dragons.

“So, you are the boy who burnt my fleet, and my beast.” Euron Greyjoy had the nerve to smile, yet his dark eye remained harsh and cold despite the stretching of his lips.

Jon almost frowned at the man, his army was in tetters and his fleet burnt to the bottom of the sea and yet, he acted as if they were having a quiet conversation.

Ser Baelor delivered a swift fist into Euron Greyjoy´s face, causing the Reaver to fall to his knee and spit blood on the stone.

The heir to house Hightower, who was likely of an age with Eddard Stark when he had been murdered in King´s Landing, knelt before Jon. “Your grace, Oldtown and the Hightower are yours.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Jon gestured for lord Baelor to rise, before looked at Euron Greyjoy. The man had a resemblance to Theon Turncloak. Both men tall with dark hair and fair skin, yet in the remaining eye of Euron Greyjoy, there was a madness that Jon had never seen in Theon.

The heir to the Hightower, gestured at the Ironborn. “Your grace, we bring Euron Greyjoy. The Raper of Oldtown.”

Euron Greyjoy, in spite of having his face hit with a mailed fist and losing his eye, sniggered to the outrage of the people around him. “I am beyond the judgement of such meagre beings like you, Hightower.”

Greyjoy glanced back at Jon, and he could see the smile widen. “You understand, don’t you boy?” His eye went back to the two dragons who had lost their interest in their supper and were snarling at the man. “You must.”

“No.” Jon stared at the man who had been shoved to his knees. “I truly don’t.”

Euron Greyjoy tilted his head back and let out a laugh. It was without any joy in it, only filled with malice. “Oh, there is no need for you to pretend boy. I saw the way you and your dragons destroyed my fleet and my kraken. There is no use to pretend for we are the same.”

“We are nothing alike.” Jon felt the fury in his gut rear its head again, as the memories of the bodies flashed across his mind.

“Yes we are.” Greyjoy fought to rise to his feet, only for Ser Baelor to shove him down again, his knees hitting the stone covered ground. No hint of pain emerged on his face. “We are Gods.”

Jon felt his brows rise on his forehead before he could stop them as Ser Garlan snorted. “You are the furthest thing from a God that I have ever seen.”

“I am a God.” Greyjoy insisted. “And when I am free again, you shall taste my wrath.”

Ser Baelor turned red with rage as he growled at the man who was once again struggling to rise to his feet. “You will pay for what you have done to my city.”

“I will be free soon enough, my men will-.”

“Enough.” Jon felt the anger boil in his belly as he watched the Ironborn. Without taking his eyes of the man, Jon directed his words to Sam, who was staring at Greyjoy as if he were a rapid beast. “Sam, fetch me a block.”

Sam rushed to get one as Jon felt every eye in the courtyard on him. Euron Greyjoy stared at him, almost uncomprehending until Sam laid the block not too far away from his feet. Then the reaver started laugh again. “Oh, that is right. You are of the North. Well, I have no fear of dying boy, but if you think that I will kneel to you then you are more of a fool than your grandfather, the Mad King.”

Greyjoy grinned at him, his blue lips stretching as he looked at Rhaegal who snarled in response. “Why don’t you allow your beast to do the deed? I would not what you to butcher the job.”

“Ser Baelor, Ser Garlan, if you would be so kind.” Gesturing at the block, Jon watched as the two men jumped and grabbed the Crow’s Eye and forced him to lay on his belly as he thrashed and fought, bellowing out that he was a god.

Jon unsheathed Longclaw and allowed the tip of the blade to rest on the stone in front of Euron Greyjoy dark eye. “I, king Jon of house Targaryen, the first of my name. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men, lord of the Seven kingdoms and protector of the Realm, here by sentence you do die. If you have any last words, I shall hear them now.”

 Jon could feel everyone stare at him, and the two men holding Euron Greyjoy down kept glancing at him, their eyes filled with approval. Yet Jon continued to stare at the Ironborn who seemed have lost the ability to speak. Greyjoy stared at him before he spoke in an almost whisper. “I am a God.”

He seemed much smaller as he lay there on the stone, held down by the two knights. Almost like a child that was afraid of a dark tale from his nurse.

Greyjoy repeated those words. “I am a god, I am a god, I am a god.” Until Jon gripped the hilt of Longclaw tight and lifted her above his head, and then swung her down in an arch.

He almost did not feel the valyrian steel sever the man’s head from his shoulders, yet as the Reavers head tumbled to the stone, Jon could hear the people in the yard cheer as the hot blood squirted onto the ash covered stone and the man’s legs started to kick furiously at the ground.

BRAN

His head felt like someone was continuously beating it with a great Warhammer from the inside. Keeping his eyes closed, trying to shield them from the dying rays of the sun to keep the ache under control, Bran let out a groan.

He had stretched too far again and would need a good bit of rest. Opening his eyes slightly, Bran looked to Summer, who was taking a sip from the pool in the Godswood. Bran would have to content himself with the direwolf for the next few days.

“You have been away for hours, Bran.” Looking up at the concerned face of his sister, Bran smiled slightly, hoping to reassure her as she walked closer. “Did you see anything of note?”

“Not yet. However, I need to continue to try.” Bran insisted as Sansa sat on the log beside his chair.

“You must rest.” Sansa countered firmly, reminding Bran a little of their father. “You cannot push yourself too hard.”

“I must. I must find a way to make Valyrian steel.” Looking to the sky, he felt the determination within him grow fiercer when he saw the silver Umbriel pass over the Godswood shrieking as he rose higher in the air. “It would help in the war against the Others.”

“I know but you need to rest. If you push yourself too hard…” As she trailed off her blue eyes staring into the pool that the Stark children had used to learn how to swim when they had been younger. “I don’t want to lose you. I will not lose you.”

“You won´t.” Trying to comfort her, Bran reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “How about you? You also need rest.”

“I know but I have to rule the North and make sure that supply lines hold and that the Night´s Watch has everything they need to defend the Wall, while trying to feed the entire population after the North was savaged by the Greyjoys and their Reavers.” The strained smile did not reach her eyes. “And I did not sleep well last night.”

Glancing at her belly, the smile on her face became softer and Bran could see her eyes grow brighter. “The little one made me nauseous all night.”

“Have you thought what you are going to name my niece or nephew?” Bran asked as the dragons made another pass over the Godswood.

“I have a few ideas, but I want to wait for Jon. I think that he should have a small saying in what we name his heir.” She laughed, tossing her long red hair over her shoulder.

Bran smiled at his sister, her joy at becoming a mother was so clear to see. “Are you thinking of Aegon if it is a boy? And Rhaenys if it is a girl?”

Sansa flushed and gave him a slight swat on his shoulder. “Perhaps. Do you think that Jon would like that?” The queen of the Seven kingdoms seemed very uncertain as she voiced her thoughts, her eyes darting to the dragons above them occasionally.

“I think that Rhaenys is perfect if your child is a girl.” Bran replied honestly. “It is a traditional Targaryen name, and it would be honouring his sister. However, I think for a boy, Aemon would be preferable.”

“Really? After the maester at the Wall?” Sansa asked her eyes now fixed on him.

“Aye, I saw through the Weirwood that they were close.” Bran confessed. “I think that Jon would want his son named after the uncle he did not know he had while the man was alive.”

“Jon told me a little about him, said that he was kind and wise.” Sansa nodded, her fingers fidgeting with her blue skirt. “A good name for a king. Letting out a little laugh as the dragons danced above them, Sansa´s eyes sparked with joy. “Aemon Targaryen, the prince of Dragonstone and the heir to the Iron throne. I think I would like that.”

Oberon shrieked in the sky and dived towards them. Landing in the foliage of the godswood, the destrier sized dragon shrieked again and walked over to Sansa, before resting its big pale green head in her lap.

Strange creatures, dragons, Bran thought as he watched Oberon nuzzle Sansa´s belly gently and let out a rumbling that sounded suspiciously like a purr. They liked Rickon, Shireen and Bran well enough, but they seemed to like it best when people that had been with them ever since they hatched the best. Especially Sansa.

For some reason, despite her complete lack of Targaryen blood, they seemed to gravitate towards her. Preferring her company to anyone else, except likely for Jon.

“Do you know if it is going to be a girl or a boy?” Sansa asked, still petting the smallest of the four dragons.

“No, I haven’t gotten a vision.” Bran shook his head, his exhaustion growing. “The future is difficult at the best of times, and it is getting even worse with the Others marching on the Wall.” As Sansa nodded, her eyes firmly on the dragon in her lap, Bran found the words slipping out of his mouth. “Would you like me to try?”

“No.” Sansa´s blue eyes were firm and for a moment she stopped petting Oberon, much to the dragon’s irritation. “You are doing enough; you need your rest and should not have to listen to my worries.”

Standing up, Sansa leaned forward and kissed the pale green dragon on the forehead, like it was a babe. “Go on then, you have a few hours to play.”

Shaking his head, Oberon took back to the sky as Sansa turned to Bran. “Come on, we should get you inside, you need to warm up and eat something.”

Bran sighed as Sansa called for Ser Brienne and Podrick to come over to them, the square, ever smiling and helpful, pushing Bran forward in his chair. As Sansa walked beside Bran, with her faithful knight ever beside her. “How are Shireen´s and Rickon´s lessons in the yard coming along, Ser Brienne?”

At Bran´s question, the knight walked a little taller than before. “Lord Stark is progressing well, I think that when he has grown into it, Oathkeeper will be wielded by a most worthy lord.”

Bran smiled at her words, happy to hear how much Rickon was progressing in his arms training. “And lady Baratheon?”

“A credit to her house.” Ser Brienne said a flush of pride in her voice. “She is much stronger than she looks, and not just in spirit.”

Sansa let out a little giggle. “Yes, I thought that the guards from house Mormont that escorted lord Jeor to Winterfell, swooned when they saw her hit the training dummy and breaking her wooden sword in two.”

Smiling Bran could not resist asking. “And lord Jeor? Did he swoon as well?”

“He was very impressed.” Sansa tried to stifle a smile, yet her joy seemed too powerful to supress. “However, lord Jeor did not until he heard Shireen´s declaration that when she took up rule of Storm´s End there would be no need for a headman, for she intended to pass the sentence herself, just like her kingly cousin.”

“Poor, lord Jeor.” Bran shook his head. “He will have to fight through a herd of eligible Northmen when they find out. All of them trying to steal away his betrothed.”

“Your grace.” Whatever his sister had intended to say had to wait as a guard rushed to them. “Your grace, I am sorry to interrupt, however maester Wolkan asked me to find you.”

“Is there something wrong?” Sansa asked, her hands discreetly moving closer to her still hidden bump.

“No, your grace. However, there was some luggage found.” The guard looked uneasy as he addressed Bran´s sister. “Maester Wolkan believes that it belonged to late lord Baelish.” 

Sansa´s face was pale as she stared at the guard. “Has maester Wolkan gone through it?”

“No, your grace. The maester wanted you to know before doing anything.”

“I will be right there.” Sansa said before turning back to Bran. “I should go, Littlefinger might have something of importance in his luggage.”

“Your grace.” Ser Brienne frowned as she addressed Sansa. “Littlefinger is dead. How could he hurt you now?”

“I don’t know.” Sansa shook her head as she spoke. “Baelish might be dead and gone, yet he still has friends who are alive, one of whom is with Jon at this moment. Lyn Corbray was one of those friends, and in the unlikely event there is something hidden away with his belongings, I must find it.”

As Sansa turned on her heel, Bran spoke. “Wait, Sansa. I will come along.”

“You need to rest Bran.”

“As do you. However, I am still coming with you, I might be able to help.” Or offer you my support, went unsaid between the siblings.

Smiling at him, Sansa rolled her eyes and gestured for Podrick to help Bran into Sansa´s solar where she had the guard send Baelish´s belongings.

When they finally arrived at the solar that had once belonged to lord Eddard Stark, Sansa ordered refreshments brought to them and they started to search through the weasel´s belongings.

Sansa handed Bran a thick book, since he would have trouble searching the bags himself along with her, Ser Brienne and Podrick. So, instead Bran turned the pages of the book, staring at the numbers and words. At first Bran did not know what to make of what he was seeing. However, the more he read, the pieces of the puzzle and what he was reading started to become clear. “This is vile.”

“What is it?” Sansa turned to look at him, a frown on her face as her hands stilled, half in the leather bag in her lap. “What does it say?”

“It is a ledger of sorts.” Bran wanted to close it and throw it into the fire. “It details what lords and men of importance like which whores and what acts they like preformed for them.”

The three other inhabitants of the room stared at him, with matching looks of disgust on their faces. “Are you sure my lord?” Podrick asked, his eyes wide.

Bran nodded. “A gilded cat like to degrade.” Tracing the line with his index finger, Bran looked up from the blasted book and at his sister.

“A gilded cat?” Sansa asked, her brows furrowing. “Do you think he is talking about Tywin Lannister?”

“Well, he did die with a whore in his bed.” Podrick offered. “And he would not be the first lord who is guilty of hypocrisy.”

“How do you know that lord Tywin died with a whore in his bed?” Brienne asked, her bright eyes flashing.

“I heard it in an inn.” Podrick explained, sending a pleading look Sansa´s way. “Apparently everyone in King´s Landing knows, despite Cersei Lannister trying to hide it.” Bran could see the squire glance at the book, worry in his eyes.

Sansa let out a hiss of pain, putting a halt to their conversation as she quickly withdrew her hand from the bag in her lap.

“Are you injured my queen?” Brienne asked, ready to grab the bag and glaring at it as if it had personally offended her.

“I am fine.” Sansa´s finger had been cut, bright red blood seeping from a slight wound. “It is nothing. But there is something here.”

Reaching back into the bag, Sansa pulled something out of it with a gasp falling from her lips. In her hand was a beautiful dagger, its blade rippled steel that testified to its origin in Valyria and the hilt was black dragon bone.

“That is the catspaws dagger.” Bran said, his eyes wide. He had never laid eyes on it in real life, only seen the vision where his mother had fought of the assassin like a true wolf, until Summer had saved them.

“The one that was used in your assassination attempt?” Sansa asked, holding the dagger away from her now as if it disgusted her. 

“Yes. Can I?” Sansa handed him the dagger. The moment his fingers grasped it, Bran felt a strange shock run through him. “I need to go back to the Weirwood. I must look at something.”

“Bran, you need to rest.” Sansa reasoned. “You said so yourself, looking back so far as you have been doing takes a lot out of you and you have been in Valyria for days now, you must be exhausted.”

“I must.” Bran did not take his eyes off the blade in his hands.

“Lord Bran, do you think that it can help you find out the secret of how to make Valyrian steel?” Ser Brienne asked, still sitting on the floor.

“No. Oathkeeper did not help, so I doubt that the dagger will.” As he turned the dagger in his hands, Bran stared at the blade with a frown. He knew that Joffrey Waters had been the one to order the catspaw to kill him and had given the assassin this dagger to use. Before that this dagger had been in the possession of Robert Baratheon, but where had it come from?

If house Baratheon possessed Valyrian steel, they would likely have boasted off it and made it known that they had even a dagger made of the precious metal.

And yet, so very few had known about the dagger.

Bran stared at the dagger in his hands, turning it to see it from every angle. “I need to know more about it.” Bran said finally, looking at Sansa, who looked more worried than before. “I feel that this is important.”

“Can it not wait until tomorrow, when you have rested?”

“I do not think that I will rest until I have some answers.”

At his answer, Sansa sighed and nodded. “Just be careful and if you are too tried, then you need to rest. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I will be careful, I promise.” Bran offered her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I would not do this right now, if I did not think that it was important.”

Chapter Text

JON CONNINGTON

Fuming, the lord hand gripped the reins of his nervous mount even tighter to keep it under control, as he stared at the damned banner of house Buckler flying over the castle of Bronzegate

For how much longer would Buckler continue to defy the rightful king?

Ralph Buckler was not worthy of the title of lord, much less a Stormlord.

Not with his tendency to switch to whatever side benefited him the most at the time. From house Targaryen to Baratheon, from Aerys to Robert to Renly to Stannis to Joffrey and now finally to Tommen, the man had served more kings than most greybeards could ever dream of.

However, even with the ease lord Buckler changed his alliances, it was a wonder how the man stubbornly refused to yield the cursed castle he ruled and surrender to the rightful King.

Glancing at Aegon, who was mounted on a handsome white destrier beside him, Jon was sure that lord Buckler did suspect that Rhaegar´s son and heir would not be forgiving of the treason he had committed in the Rebellion.

Perhaps it was for the best, that Buckler did not open his gates and surrender to the mercy of Aegon Targaryen. The young King did need a victory in battle, not only to boost morale of the army but also to prove to the lords of Westeros that he was a force to be reckoned with.

“I should be leading them.” Aegon´s voice rang with absolute surety while staring at the brownstone walled castle, that was surrounded by the Golden company.

The young man´s thunderous expression was matched perfectly by the grey clouded skies and the dull and lifeless looking grass.

“You know that it would not be wise, your grace.” Even though they had this conversation many times during the march from Storm´s End, Jon felt his heart swell with pride at the young man. Young Aegon might not have inherited much from his father other than his hair and eye colour, but at least he had gotten the bravery of the silver prince.

Enraged violet eyes turned from the castle walls, looking as hard as amethyst. “I am the King, I should be out there, commanding my men.”

“You are right, you are the King.” Jon watched as Aegon´s eyes widened, and his pale brows rose on his forehead in surprise. “Which is why you must stay out of the fray. Your life is more important than anyone else´s.”

The silence that followed his words hung heavily between them as Aegon´s mood turned from shocked to sour. “My father did not hang back while his men did the fighting. He fought alongside them and met the Usurper in the field himself.”

“Yes, and how did that end?”

Aegon´s face turned pale as chalk at Jon´s words, his mouth hanging open in shock at hearing his own lord hand speak like this to him. The young dragon´s knuckles turned white with the force of which he used to grip the reins as those violet eyes turned hard again.

“I do not say this to upset you, Aegon.” The hand spoke in a calm tone, keeping the King from speaking. “When your father died, most of the men lost hope and surrendered to the Usurper, even Barristan the Bold bent the knee to him.”

Saying nothing, Aegon stared at him as his lips were pulled into a fine line, a sullen look on his otherwise comely face.

Jon turned his head to look at the siege before them and listening to the shouts and yells of the men from both sides of the castle wall. Not long now, Jon thought to himself.

“Your father was the greatest man I have ever known.” Jon spoke as he watched the front line of the Golden company raise their shields, as the men of Bronzegate shot arrows into the formations at the front. It felt strange, almost surreal like not to be in the thick of the fighting. But he like Aegon had to suffer leading from the back. “Rhaegar would have been the greatest King since Jaehaerys I, likely he would have been even better than the Conciliator.”

Turning his eyes back to the silent King, Jon hoped Aegon would listen to what he was being told. “If Rhaegar had stayed safe, stayed behind and not met the Usurper that day then he would have become that King. Rhaegar would now be ruling from King´s Landing and you would have been raised as you ought to have been, as a prince of the Iron throne, the prince of Dragonstone.”

“So, you are saying that it was my father´s fault?” Aegon´s voice shook as his face tightened.

“No, Aegon.” Jon sighed feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Your father was the bravest and most noble of men, if the Kingsguard had done their job that day, he would have lived, and the Usurper would have died.”

“Do you think that it is true?” Aegon asked after a moment of contemplation, as the Targaryen guard around them continued to imitate a wall, staying silent and alert as a proper guard should be. “That my aunt has taken Barristan Selmy into her service?”

With a sigh, Jon patted his horse´s neck, hoping to distract his mount from the smell of blood. “I believe so, the rumours all seem to agree on it, and I would not be surprised to see the man by her side when she arrives.”

Aegon scowled, his chin getting a stubborn tilt to it. “I will have him answer for not defending my father and for his treason.”

“It may not be wise to do so.”

“What do you mean? I am the King, and he betrayed my father.”

Aegon´s outrage at his words caused Jon to send the boy a hard glare. “Aegon, your aunt has had the man in her service for some time now and you know how soft and gentle, a woman´s heart is.”

“But I am the King, and she is to be my wife.” Aegon insisted. “She is to do as she is told and if I want the man to answer for his treason, then my aunt will have to give him up.”

“I agree that Selmy will have to answer for the wrongs he has committed.” Keeping his voice soft and calm, Jon tried to make the young King understand that he was not disagreeing with him. “The man switched sides, while King Aerys, you and prince Viserys still lived, and he failed in his duty to save Rhaegar.”

Watching as Aegon´s fury seemed to lessen, Jon waited for a moment before speaking again. “It would be wise to allow your aunt to think that she has more power than she does. Rhaegar´s sister has been ruling in Slaver´s bay and has hatched dragons back in the world, she will be used to getting her way.”

Looking sullen, the young King turned his attention to the siege before them. “When do you think that she will come?”

Fighting an undignified snort. “Likely your aunt will make haste when she hears of you taking the Iron throne from the Lannister woman and her bastard.” Jon was sure that the moment Rhaegar´s sister heard that Aegon was fighting to take back his birth right, she would abandon the slave cities as fast as humanly possible.

The girl would not want to stay in Essos when Aegon had taken back the Iron throne and restored Rhaegar’s house back to their rightful place.

A sudden cheer erupted among the men of the Golden company, forcing them out of their conversation. Jon felt a smile pull at his lips when he saw the gate of the castle break inwards, allowing for their soldiers to storm the seat of house Buckler.

“We have done it.” Aegon breathed out, his face aglow with happiness. “Let´s head forward.”

“Aegon.” Letting out an exhausted sigh, Jon fixed Rhaegar´s son a stare. “Let the men subdue any and all resistance before we make our way to the castle, we do not what to endanger your life.”

“I am a skilled swordsman, lord hand. I can protect myself.”

“I do not doubt your skills with a sword Aegon, but I would rather not take any unnecessary chances.”

Huffing sullenly, Aegon stared at the men ahead of them, furrowing his brow as only a young man being denied the opportunity to do battle, could.

“There will be a time for glory, your grace.” Jon offered, hoping to lighten Aegon´s mood. “When you take the capital from the Lannister woman, and then the seat of your ancestors and right the wrongs that have been done to your family, the bards will sing your praises from Dorne to the Wall.”

“I want to lead the charge into King´s Landing.” Aegon said after a moment of silence with determination lacing his voice.              

“Aegon-.” Jon started but was interrupted by the King.

“Jon, I cannot stay in the back forever. How will the men respect me if I refuse to fight alongside them? Especially against a force led by a woman?” The indignant look on the King´s face made Jon want to sigh again.

However, Aegon did have a point. Leading from the back against a force led by a man was one thing, but against a woman was something else entirely.

However, that woman had burnt the Sept of Baelor in wildfire. Perhaps she was planning something similar when Aegon came to take back what was his?

“Let´s revisit the issue when we enter the Crownlands.” Hoping to buy himself time to convince the men that it was necessary for Aegon to be kept as safe as possible, Jon watched as a smile lit up the King´s face.

It filled him with guilt, but Jon knew that he needed to keep Rhaegar´s son and heir safe and out of harm’s way.

“Your grace, my lord hand.” A young man, in the armour of the golden company, rode his horse towards them, a large smile on his face. “We have taken the castle; Ser Harry is requesting your presence.”

Jon nodded and followed Aegon, who had almost immediately spurred his horse onward as if trying to leave his hand and guards behind.

Thankfully, they managed to catch up with the King, and together they headed to the now broken gates of the castle and Jon could see a few men hastily discarding and dousing two huge trunks of trees.

Making their way through the cheering lines of soldiers, Jon watched with pride as Aegon waved and grinned happily at the men. Sitting straight-backed and tall, the rightful King cut a fine figure.

Glancing down at the broken gate, Jon observed the intricate and detailed carvings that told the story the founding of house Buckler. The dark green metal that had safeguarded that traitorous family laying in the mud brought forth a great satisfaction within the Hand.    

Now the lords of the realm would have no other choice but to take him seriously. To take Aegon seriously.

The hand of the true King felt a smile break out on his face. Now there was a straight line to the capital.

The sooner they took King´s Landing, the better.

Riding their horses into the courtyard, they were met with more men in their gilded armour, cheering but this time, they were holding the proud banner of house Targaryen high.

Jon felt his heart sing at the sight of the three headed dragon, roaring fiercely in the soft breeze.

Soon Rhaegar´s banner would be flying above the Red Keep, where it belonged.

Standing at the entrance of the castle, Ser Harry Strickland grinning happily at them, not a speck of dirt or blood on his fine armour and beside him was lord Mace, looking as spotless and pristine as the leader of the Golden company, although not nearly as joyful.

“Your grace.” Ser Harry gestured grandly and bowed so deep that his nose almost touched the stone floor of the entrance way. “The Golden company has the honour of giving you, the seat of Bronzegate.”

Vaulting of his destrier, Aegon strolled over to the knight. “Thank you, good Ser. I will see you handsomely awarded for your bravery.”

Dismounting and following the King, Jon wasted no time. “Where is Buckler?”

“Lord Buckler is being held in the dungeons.” Lord Mace piped up, not wanting to be forgotten, holding his head high as he glared at the knight beside him. “Awaiting the King´s judgement.”

“Good.” Aegon stood even taller than before, his violet eyes sparkling with joy. “It is high time that the man answers for his treason.”

Not waiting for either man to speak, Aegon practically ran ahead in his eagerness to dispense justice to those who had betrayed his father and their family.

Entering the brightly lit great hall of Bronzegate, Aegon quickly took his seat at the head of the table, with Jon taking the seat to his right. The lord hand could see that neither Ser Harry nor lord Mace looked happy at having to give up the seat of honour.

However, when Ser Harry took the seat to Aegon´s immediate left, the lord of Highgarden looked positively apocalyptic.

Jon would have been furious as well if he had been in lord Mace´s shoes. While Ser Harry was the commander of the Golden company, lord Mace was a high lord and rightly belonged closer to the King than a sell sword, especially now that he was Aegon’s good father.

With a sigh, Jon opted to speak with Aegon later. It would not do to offend the only high lord that had declared for him.

“Bring forth the prisoners.” Aegon commanded regally.

They had to wait for a few minutes before Ralph Buckler and his household was dragged before the rightful King.

Ralph Buckler had the dark hair that was common in the Stormlands, but his small brown eyes spoke of his mother´s Reach blood as they glared daggers at the men sitting at the high table that had been his only hours before. “So, this is the boy.”

Buckler´s deep voice carried a taunting tone as he sneered at where Aegon was sitting before he grinned mockingly at the rightful King. “Does not look like Rhaegar.”

Aegon´s face twisted in fury. “How dare you? You stand accused of treason, yet presume to lie and mock your rightful King?”

“You are no King of ours.” A man of sixty years, who bore a passing resemblance to Robert Baratheon growled, his face red as his chains rattled when he strained against them. “We have made no vows to serve you.”

“You made vows to serve house Targaryen.” Aegon countered, glaring at the bastard of Bronzegate.

Blood ran down the face of the once famed tourney knight as he spat at the floor. “House Targaryen maybe, but not you, boy.”

Turning as red as the three headed dragon of his banner, Aegon jumped to his feet. “I AM RHAEGAR´S SON AND THE RIGHTFUL-.”

“YOU ARE NO ONE.” Buckler interrupted, his bellow making Aegon jump back, his eyes wide at the man´s audacity. “You are not even from Westeros and yet you think that you can just come here and rule over us like you have any right to it.”

“How dare you interrupt the King?” Jon pushed himself out of his chair and leaned against the table with his knuckles placed against the wood. “This is Aegon Targaryen, the sixth of his name, the rightful king of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men.”

The mocking look appeared on Ralph Buckler´s face again, this time there was also a hint of mirth on his weathered face. “Oh, and I suppose we are to take your word for it? The word of the man who was so incompetent at being the Hand that even the Mad King could see it?”

The burn of anger and humiliation buried itself deep within him and Jon wanted nothing more than to shove his sword into the man´s belly. “Look at him and you will see the truth of my words.”

With a snort, Buckler started to chuckle. “Why? Because he has silver hair, he must be the dragon prince´s son?”

Gritting his teeth, Jon opened his mouth to speak some sense into the man, but he was interrupted by the bastard. “Of course, Connington would think that every blond in the world is Rhaegar´s son, the former lord of Griffin´s Roost has always had a one-track mind.”

The words were a punch to the gut and Jon found himself slowly sitting down as his face grew cold as the prisoners laughed at the bastard’s jape.

Aegon, unlike Jon was not deterred by the men in front of them. “I am prince Rhaegar´s son, whether you believe it or not. The Iron throne is mine by rights and I will take it back and restore my family to their former greatness.”

“I don´t believe you.” Buckler looked unimpressed with the King as he continued to stare at the young man before him. “You have done little and less to prove that you are Rhaegar´s son, you might have silver hair and purple eyes, but you do not look like him; but most importantly, you have no dragons.”

Dead silence filled the hall.

“You are planning to declare for the bastard.” Aegon´s quiet words cut through the hall as every man of the Golden company held their breath.

“From what I hear, Jon Targaryen is no bastard, rather the true heir of the Dragon prince and the rightful King.”

“Lies.” King Aegon hissed, his face white and eyes wide. “Those are all lies. He is a bastard and nothing more.”

“If King Aegon has to provide proof, then so does this…other claimant.” Ser Harry spoke for the first time since entering the hall, his eyes firmly fixed on the former master of Bronzegate.

“Jon Targaryen has six dragons, Darksister, the crown of Aegon the Conqueror and from what I hear, real documents that the high septon married prince Rhaegar and lady Lyanna before a Hearttree.”

Clenching his fist, Jon stared at Ralph Buckler, who was smirking at them. “Who told you this?”

“We received a letter from Dragonstone not too long ago.” Buckler shrugged his shoulders, rattling the chains around his wrists. “Ser Davos assures us that those words are indeed true.”

“You would trust a smuggler over a lord of the realm?” Mace Tyrell looked horrified at the very idea.

“Smuggler or not, I have never known Ser Davos to lie about anything. Ser Davos has even assured us that King Jon has saved Shireen Baratheon, the lady of the Storm’s End and she is now under his protection.” Turning his brown eyes to the lord Hand, Jon felt his heart sink as the man smirked again. “And Jon Connington is no lord, the Mad King stripped him of any and all titles when he lost at the Stoney Sept.” But Jon could only stare at the man, struck speechless at the man’s cold words.

“ENOUGH.” Aegon, who had remained standing, slammed his fist into the table. “I have had it with your lies.”

Breathing heavily, the King fixed the man a hard stare. “If you will not bend the knee lord Buckler, then I have no more use for you.”

Turning to the guards surrounding him and the bastard, Aegon gave the order. “Take the traitor and all those loyal to him to the courtyard, they have a meeting with the executioner’s blade.”

TYRION

Standing beside lady Missandei, Tyrion tried his best to keep from fidgeting as the Dothraki hoard rode in circles around the plaza before the pyramid of the queen. Their long dark hair shining and flowing in the bright sunlight as they waved their curved blades in the air as the queen and her dragon circled around the city, the winged shadow roaring furiously.

The crowds gathered at the edge of the square all watching as the queen´s mount roared again, his enormous black wings casting shadows over Meereen. Many of the freed men were cheering for the silver queen, calling her name in the tongue of Old Ghisari.

As he watched the former slaves, Tyrion found himself seeking out the masters and the people of Meereen that had been free when Daenerys Targaryen had taken the city. Many of their faces were impassive and unreadable yet, there were some that were unable to hide their look of distain and horror.

Tyrion felt a frown appear on his face the longer he watched the slave masters. Seeing Daenerys and Drogon reappear in the skies over Meereen again, the masters must be feeling more than a little uneasy.

A bitter feeling rose in him as he watched the former slavers whispered to one another. A feeling that gnawed at his very bones. It felt similar to when his demented sister had accused him of murdering Joffrey before all the court and almost doomed him to the Ser Ilyn Payne´s blade.

He was abruptly dragged out of his musings by Drogon landing on the buildings on the other side of the plaza. With another shriek, the black dragon stood on his hind legs and spread his wings before letting out a torrent of black flames from his mouth into the air.

Even though the dragon was on the other side of the square that was large enough to hold one third of the Queen´s hoard, Tyrion still found himself taking a step back on instinct. Many of the people of the city gasped and cried out in terror while the Dothraki cheered even louder as if they were edged on by the dragon flame.

From the other side of the plaza Tyrion could hear Daenerys Targaryen speak with the Dothraki hoard in their ruff tongue. Despite himself, Tyrion found himself impressed that the young girl was fluent in three languages. Too bad that the Queen of Meereen did not apply the same diligence to ruling the city she was responsible for.

Tyrion found himself tempted to ask lady Missandei for a translation of what the young Queen was saying, however he held his tongue and kept his eyes firmly on the Queen and her mount.

Whatever she was saying clearly worked to rile the Dothraki up. The warriors cheered and saluted her as Khalessi as the bells in their hair sang and their arakhs were waved over their heads.

The black dragon perching on the building, its red eyes blazing like the fires of the deepest pits of the Seven hells as its rider spoke to the Dothraki, who waved their weapons in the air as they cheered for her, made a cold shiver run down his spine.

The Queen finished her speech and as the Dothraki continued to cheer for her, she leaned flat against Drogon´s back. The black dragon snarled and shook his head, then he spread his wings again and jumped.

However, the dragon did not take flight again, rather landed on the ground with such force that it shook the earth.

The horses nearest where the dragon landed reared and screamed with fright and even the experienced Dothraki were hard pressed to control their mounts.

As the horses fought their riders, trying to bolt from the Queen’s beast, Daenerys Targaryen unlatched herself from the makeshift saddle and disappeared into the crowd. As soon as the Queen´s leather boots had landed on the dusty ground, the dragon roared again and vaulted into the air.

When she reappeared, walking up the steps, Daenerys was followed by her bloodriders on foot and Ser Barristan and Daario Naharis.

Ignoring the irritating, smirking sellsword, Tyrion was surprised to see the most revered and celebrated knight in all the Seven Kingdoms look like he was hewn from stone.

His normally impeccably cleaned and cared for white scaled armour was now brown with dust and dirt, his bright blue eyes looking bruised with exhaustion as the flowing snow-white cloak was nowhere to be seen.

Smiling sweetly at her adviser, lady Missandei, the Queen sneaked her arm though the crook of her elbow. “The cities of Astapor and Yunkai have been returned to the dirt. The slavers shall never hurt you again my friend.”

Tyrion had to bite his tongue to keep from asking what had happened to the people who had nothing to do with the slavers. He had no desire to be on the business end of the Dothraki arakh.

“It is good to have you back with us, your grace.” Lady Missandei bowed her head in greeting. “A bath has been readied for you, your grace. I am sure you will want to wash the dust from the road before we all gather.”

The Queen smiled at her adviser. “That will be delightful. Accompany me, my friend, I want you to attend to me.”

The Silver Queen and the translator made their way into the pyramid, followed by the bloodriders and Greyworm and a few of his men.

Daario Naharis smirked at Tyrion, the golden moustache twisting along with his lips and his dark blue eyes sparking with mirth as his suede-coloured gloves rested on the hit of the dagger he always carried on his person. 

The lord commander, however, did not follow the Queen and her retinue inside the pyramid, opting to walk slowly to Tyrion´s side, his pale face impassive. “Lord Tyrion.” The old knight greeted, his eyes occasionally drifting to the dark shape that flew over the city. “It is good to see you again.”

“And you, Ser.” Tyrion´s eyes looked the man over again, looking for any injury that might explain his changed demeanour. “Are you alright? You seem…different.”

Barristan´s blue eyes found his mismatched ones and the man´s weathered face remained unreadable. “I am weary from the road, why don’t we talk in my quarters.”

Nodding and following the knight, Tyrion felt the apprehension rise in him. Whatever had happened during the Queen´s conquest of the other cities of Slaver´s bay seemed to have worn down the fabled knight.

They walked quietly to the knight´s quarters and Ser Barristan almost collapsed into one of the chairs that surrounded a small circular table. The room´s matched the knight rather well, it was small and held no ornate decorations. Only a small window overlooking the city let in the warm light from the harsh central Essosi sun as Tyrion walked over to the table, grabbed the pincher and poured them both cups of wine. “What happened?”

Ser Barristan sighed and took the one offered to him before draining the entire contents in one swallow.

Tyrion was so surprised by his actions that his own cup stopped mid-way to his lips. The knight reached for the pincher and poured himself another. “Yunkai and Astapor are no more.”

“So, the Queen was not exaggerating?” Tyrion to a large gulp of wine, feeling it run down the inside of his throat as the apprehension that had crept up on him earlier grew. “When can we expect the prisoners to arrive?”

“She took no prisoners.” Ser Barristan stared into the cup, his eyes and face empty of all emotions. “The Dothraki were allowed to take a few as a reward for their service…”

As the man trailed off, his blue eyes growing dull. “I thought she was like Rhaegar. When I first came into her service and swore myself and my sword to her cause.” Barristan the Bold looked up at Tyrion as he clutched the cup tightly. “But I seemed to have been wrong.”

“Her father was promising, at first. You know that.” Tyrion countered, his feet dangling off the chair, making him feel even smaller. “What really happened during the taking of Yunkai and Astapor?”

The knight lifted the cup to his lips again and took a sip from it. “The masters of Yunkai threatened Drogon and insulted her, after that there was no hope for any mediation.”

As the knight began to tell Tyrion the details of what had happened, the smaller man found himself reaching for the pitcher again and again.

“And were the destinations of the masters discovered?”

“No, despite the Queen´s inquiries…” The knight sent Tyrion a pointed look. “One servant told us that they had fled to Qarth, another said that they had gone to Volantis. Some even swore that they had gone to the Shadowlands beyond Asshai.”

Despite the seriousness of their discussion, Tyrion snorted into his cup. “Well men under such…extreme questioning will say anything to get it to stop.”

The knight nodded. “They could have gone anywhere in Essos. The slavers have no shortage in allies on this side of the Narrow Sea.”

“She cannot land in Westeros.” Tyrion said in a low voice, the ever-present threat of being overheard, even though they were in a locked room together, hanging over him as what he had to say was nothing short of treason to the dragon queen. “If she does, the whole country will be set aflame.”

“I think that ship has already sailed.” The defeat in Barristan´s voice echoed though the room as he took another sip of wine. “The masters of Slavers Bay have been defeated and she has Drogon back. Now the only thing stopping her from moving west is her desire to wait for Rhaegal and Viserion.”

Tyrion fought a smile. “There is no guarantee that they will return.”

“The Queen will eventually tire of waiting for them and then we will head to the Seven Kingdoms to take the Iron throne.”

“There is still the issue of the other slave cities.” Tyrion pointed out, pleased to see the dull and lifeless look on the knight´s face dissipate a little.

“What do you mean?”

“The only city in Essos that is completely free of any sort of slavery is Braavos. How can the breaker of chains leave the slaves to their torment?” He knew that it was cold and harsh of him to use real people´s suffering to his advantage yet he did not know what else to do.

“You want her to stay here in Essos and continue her fight against the slavers?” Barristan leaned forward, his eyes regaining their sharpness.

“If she leaves Meereen, the people who she freed will be thrown back into slavery.” Tyrion insisted quietly. “You know that as well as I, however if Daenerys stays, they might be able to live their lives and restore Meereen and show the people of Essos that there is no need for slavery.”

“She will never be content to stay here, she is determined to take the Iron throne.” His shoulders slumped as he placed his cup on the table and reached for the pitcher again. “You did not see her in Yunkai and Astapor.”

He poured Tyrion more wine as he continued. “The Dothraki slaughtered everyone in their path, even women and children who did not even fight them, they dragged them out of their homes and raped and killed them in the streets.”

Tyrion frowned at the older man. “Surely she was wroth when she found out.”

“She was not pleased by the news, yet she did nothing to instil discipline in her soldiers and she was the one who burned the cities to the ground. The next time she takes a city, it will be even worse.”

Tyrion nodded and turned to look out the window, watching the winged shadow pass by, roaring as he soared over the city. “Was it like this? Serving her father?”

“No.” Barristan shook his head. “Aerys did not have a dragon.” His answer made Tyrion feel like he had swallowed snakes, and now they were writhing around in his belly, fighting to get out.

The answer Barristan gave was followed by a knock on the door echoed through the small room and the knight called for the person to come in.

A young serving girl opened the door and bowed deeply. “Her grace is calling for a meeting in the small council chambers.” She bowed again and hurriedly left them alone.

Tyrion slid from his chair and placed his cup on the table. “Shall we?”

Ser Barristan the Bold nodded and followed him out of the room, making sure to keep his stride short enough for Tyrion to keep up with the man without having to run.

They arrived at the chamber where the Queen held all their meetings and Tyrion was grateful that he and Ser Barristan were the first to arrive.

Tyrion moved to the table as he glanced at the high windows, trying to catch a glimpse of the black dragon again as he smoothed the crimson jerkin and took his seat. For all the terror the dragon could inspire, Tyrion had not lost his fascination with the creatures. Not one bit.

They did not have to wait for long as the Queen of Meereen walk into the room, wearing a lovely pale blue gown that was made from fabric that looked so light that it could have been made out of water, the crown with the three dragons was firmly on her head and she walked proudly to the head of the table.

“Now, tell me my lord, how has my city been fairing in my absence.” Daenerys Targaryen turned her violet gaze on Tyrion, her eyes boring into his own.

“Well, your grace, we have been making some progress. We have been getting some of the small folk back to work, however I have taken the liberty of writing up a contract that you might want to look over so that we can send it to Hesh. It is of utmost importance to re-establish the trade routes that collapsed during the conquest.”

Tyrion watched as the Queen´s face go from annoyed, too pleased, to annoyed again. “I shall look it over later.” She took a cup of wine that lady Missandei handed her. “Now, lord Tyrion have you heard any news about my other children?”

Feeling the cold shiver crawl over his twisted body, Tyrion was forced to speak. “No, your grace. There has been no news.”

“The queen´s dragons are large, how can you not find them, Imp?” Daario Naharis looked torn between amusement and anger as he stared at Tyrion.

“Probably for the same reason you did not.” Tyrion replied snidely. “I am very impressive, however unlike the dragons I do not have wings.”

The blue bearded man´s face soured at Tyrion´s words and he could see the sellsword gloved hands inch closer to the hilts of his blades.

“Captain.” Missandei piped up, her voice had a lingering of uncertainty. “Lord Tyrion and I have been looking for Rhaegal and Viserion for months, we have exhausted every lead in trying to find them.”

“Enough.” Daenerys growled out, her eyes darkening with fury. “Rhaegal and Viserion must be found. It takes precedence over everything else. We cannot leave for Westeros without them.”

Glancing at Missandei, who had a concerned look on her face. However, to Tyrion´s disappointment, the young woman held her tongue.

“As you wish your grace.” Tyrion nodded and leaned back in his chair. “Shall we start discussing how we shall proceed?”

The Dragon Queen nodded and turned her attention to Daario Naharis. “I have decided to name you my master of War, when we arrive in Westeros, you shall have a seat on my council and a castle worthy of your station as my advisor.”

A bitter taste filled his mouth, watching the sellsword puff up with pride as a golden tooth gleamed in his mouth as he smiled. “You honour me, my Queen.” The man stood from his chair and bowed deeply, his blue curly hair bouncing around his shoulders.

Meeting Ser Barristan´s eyes, both men exchanged quick but displeased looks at the Queen´s choice. Daario Naharis would not be welcomed in Westeros, much less as a member of the small council, on a seat that had never existed before nor a lord of the Realm. The lords would whisper that Daenerys had made the office especially for her lover, to keep him close and given him the title for his skills in the bed chamber. Tyrion could only imagine the rumours if the dragon queen managed to take the throne.

“Your grace, if I may, did you acquire more ships from Yunkai and Astapor?” Tyrion asked the Queen as he glanced at the window as the dragon passed the pyramid again.

“No, the master of Yunkai had used them to build their horrible contraptions.” Her fair face twisted in anger. “And the masters of Astapor were nowhere to be found.”

“Well, if you are to take the Iron throne, you must have ships.” And they will be expensive, Tyrion thought to himself, feeling a bit gleeful. “Perhaps our Ironborn friends can be of assistance.” Keeping the sarcasm out of his voice was almost too hard for him yet somehow, he managed.

“And speaking of the Ironborn, where are lady Greyjoy and her brother?”

“They are overseeing the loading of the ships; they will likely arrive within a few days.” Queen Daenerys said icily as she sat up straighter in her chair, the crown on her brow glinting in the sunlight pouring through the tall windows.

Missandei glanced at Tyrion then she looked back at the Queen. “Was there much food, your grace? The supplies of the city are sorely lacking.”

“We will need the supplies when we head to Westeros.” The new Master of War said as he poured himself a cup of wine. “It cannot be squandered on slavers and traitors.”

Missandei stared at the blue bearded man, her dark eyes furious. “I am not talking about the slavers or the traitors to the Queen. I am talking about the common folk and the Freed men.”

Everyone in the council chamber blinked surprised at the normally quiet and reserved young woman. Even Missandei was astonished by her own harsh and pointed words.

Silence filled the room, only a soft gust blowing through the tall windows broke it, until Missandei cleared her throat and spoke again, this time directing her words to the Queen of Meereen. “Your grace, lord Tyrion and I have been working hard on a plan to help rebuild the city after the battle and how to get the Freed men back to work while not serving as slaves.”

Daenerys blinked at the other woman, then nodded for her to continue. As Missandei told the Queen of the plans they had made, Tyrion spotted the look of distain on Daario Naharis´ face as they listened to the young woman.

“And you think that this can work?” Daenerys Targaryen asked, her violet eyes wide traveling to each of the people in the room.

“Yes your grace.” Missandei nodded her head.

“And how will the Queen feed her men on the voyage to the Sunset Kingdoms?” Naharis asked, barely managing to hide the distain in his voice. “They cannot eat sand, nor drink sea water.”

“The people need food.” Missandei insisted. “We cannot just give it away as we have been doing, we need to get the skilled workers back to work and we need more food.”

“Which is why we need to re-establish trade with Hesh.” Tyrion pointed out as he spied the Queen winch as if struck with a sharp pain. Her small dainty hand reached for her head before she quickly brought it down again. “We can also send envoys to Mantarys, Elyria and Tol-.”

“No.” Daenerys insisted, her voice cutting through his suggestion sharply. “I will not send more envoys to them; they chose to support the masters given the opportunity and killed my people and called me a whore.”

Gesturing for the sellsword to pour her a cup of wine, the Queen´s face was red spotted with fury as the silence settled over them again.

 She took a sip of the wine before speaking again. “There has to be another city where more food can be found.”

“You can always take Mantarys, Elyria and Tolos, my Queen.” Daario suggested, smirking as he took out his dagger and started to play with it, the naked woman´s body glinting in the sunlight. “They would not be a difficulty for you.”

The Queen seemed to contemplate this for a moment. “We would have to wait until the Greyjoys come back, we would need the ships.”

“Not for Mantarys my Queen.” Daario seemed to grow more eager as a new conquest was being discussed. “It is landlocked, but the Dothraki and the Second sons can take the Demonroad to the city.”

“The Dothraki and the Second sons have only just arrived from taking both Astapor and Yunkai.” Tyrion countered reaching for the pincher and pouring himself a cup of wine. He would need more if he were to get through this conversation.

However, if the Queen would leave immediately to conquer Mantarys, then perhaps a few of her men would die from exhaustion. Now that would be favourable for him.

And yet with a smaller army and less men to feed, the queen could move faster and sooner to Westeros.

“You Westerosi may need to take rest after a small battle, Imp but we have more stamina than that.” Daario grinned at Tyrion, his golden tooth glinting at him.

“Even the best of soldiers can be subject to exhaustion.” Tyrion took a large swallow of the sweet wine the Queen favoured. He would have to try and persuade the queen to make sure that her men remained alive, for the more men she had, the harder it would be to feed them and her dragon.

Daenerys seemed to have grown tired of their arguing as she spoke up and rose from her chair. “Find Rhaegal and Viserion, that is your priority so that we can leave for Westeros.” As Daenerys Targaryen pointed her words at Tyrion, she glanced at Daario and gestured for him to follow her out of the room, with Missandei and Greyworm shadowing their steps.

Chapter Text

BRAN

The silvery-grey fog swirled around his feet as he strode through the darkness, searching for any hint of activity. Voices echoed out of the dark, and Bran eyes darted around trying to spot anything.

Even though screams of war and the cries of pain clawed at his ears, Bran had yet to see movement.

It could take time for him to see anything. Sometimes he could find what he was looking for immediately, and at other times, he could not find anything. At all.

It had become all too common for him to just wander around in the darkness, not finding anything until he was forced to give up for the day. He had thought it would have been easier, to find out how to make Valyrian steel.

Bran had thought that the real challenge would have been actually making it. Yet time and time again, he was proven wrong.

He could feel the frustration bubble under his skin.

They needed more Valyrian steel blades. Time was running out and the Others were making their way towards the Wall. They had to have enough weapons against them.

Dragonglass was to brittle for weapons larger than daggers and arrowheads. They needed more swords, shields and axes.

As he continued to trudge through the darkness, a sense of enjoyment coursed through him. Even though he was only walking through the Lands in Between, the feeling of walking on his own two legs was a deeply missed one and keenly felt all of his waking moments.

As a child, running around Winterfell and climbing its wall, Bran had never appreciated the simple thing that most others also took for granted. The ability to walk.

Oh, how desperately he now wished that he had listened to his mother, when she had ordered him to stop climbing. He wished that he could have both. To be able to walk on his own feet, and warg into animals and see through the Weirwood.

A shout that felt familiar reached his ears, causing him to change directions and walk towards it. Father?

Bran had not heard Ned Stark’s voice since he had looked through the eyes of the Weirwood and seen Jon’s birth.

Bran heard his father’s shout again. “Robert.” A churning anger rose in his belly at the late lord of Winterfell’s shout, yet he forced himself to keep going.

He had to.

The dagger had led him here, he had to push forward.

The darkness gave away to a blinding light that cut into his eyes, yet that too gave away. This time swirls of colour blending together.

Then suddenly he was standing on a green field, with a huge river roared, only to be drowned out by the screams and battle cries of clashing armies.

Men baring the coat of arms from all over Westeros fought and killed one another. The first thought that entered Bran’s mind was one of the battles that his brother Robb had been in, as he saw the snarling direwolf of their house pass by.

However, it was when he could see the banners of house Targaryen and house Martell side by side that Bran knew where and when he was.

The Ruby Ford.

Robert’s Rebellion.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bran could see a tall man, wearing purple and silver, astride a tall grey destrier swing his sword at another man, this one with the sea horse of house Velaryon on his breast. Then like dew on a blade of grass before the heat of the sun, the man and horse were gone, leaving the Velaryon man dying on the ground.

Bran walked past the dying man, his eyes searching for something that he was not sure of yet. A slight breeze rushed through the battle, stirring banners that flew in the air, yet Bran could not feel it. Here there was nothing other than what he could see and hear.

He could walk through the history of the world, yet he could not affect it nor influence it. He could only watch.

Here, he could not feel the dagger that he knew lay in his unmoving hands in the waking world, yet Bran knew that somewhere amongst the chaos it was here as well.

Likely Bran was walking towards Robert Baratheon, who had owned the dagger before Joffrey Waters had send his catspaw to kill him.

And after that…Bran wasn’t sure, yet he wanted to see this through. For some reason they had found that dagger amongst Baelish’s belongings, it had to mean something… right?

Then he could see a glimpse of yellow and he rushed forth, right through men and horses, as a ghost from one of Nan’s tales.

He wandered around the battlefield, watching men from both sides being cut down like flies, Targaryen loyalists or Rebels, it did not matter.

Then a scream of a horse drew his attention, and he watched a huge grey horse stumble to his knees as its rider, tumbled to the ground, rolling into the dirt, soiling his yellow and black finery.

Tall, black haired and fierce, The Demon of the Trident towered over men, even with one of his helmet’s antlers had broken in the fall.

Robert Baratheon stood up almost instantly, a roar bellowing from his lips as he gripped the huge Warhammer in both hands and swung it at a nearby man in Targaryen armour. Bran could hear the bones snap from the blow, as the plate of his armour caved in from the force.

The man rushed forward, swinging his hammer as he were a man possessed. His blue eyes burned with fury as he hollered out a name. “RHAEGAR.”

Another man rushed forth, his blade held high, only to have Robert’s hammer smashed into his skull. The man who had attacked Robert, took flight from the force and landed in the dirt. Blood poured from the ruins of his head as his brains had been reduced to mush that had been strewn across the grass.

 Robert Baratheon paid the dead man no mind as he stalked forth, still hollering. “WHERE ARE YOU? RHAEGAR. COME AND FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN.”

“I am here, cousin.” Rhaegar Targaryen appeared as if summoned by the lord of Storm’s End, his face calm underneath his black helmet that was shaped like the head of a dragon. The famous rubies glinted in the sun, as he held the castle forged steel sword tightly.

“You are a dead man.” Robert Baratheon growled; his face red with fury. “You took her from me, and you are going to die for that. YOU HEAR ME?” Baratheon raised his hammer and swung it, the rage blazing in his eyes.

“Lyanna doesn’t love you.” Rhaegar cried as he narrowly escaped being crushed by it. “She never did.”

“LIAR.” Again, Robert sung his hammer again, this time his balance was thrown as he seemed blinded with rage. “SHE LOVED ME, AND YOU STOLE HER AWAY.”

All around them, the battle raged on, men fought on and died or moved on to their next kill, seemingly without seeing the two circling around one another.

Bran watched on, fascinated by what was happening before his eyes. While Robert screamed and hollered at the silver prince, Rhaegar Targaryen ducked and tried to talk to the man.

Even half hidden under a helmet, Bran could see Jon’s features on the man’s face. His chin, his brows and his nose, were all Rhaegar Targaryen, hells even the shape of the man’s eyes had been inherited by his only living child.

Yet Bran frowned as he watched the prince of Dragonstone continued to try and calm down his cousin. Could he not see that Robert was beyond all reason?

As the taller man swung his hammer down once again, prince Rhaegar could barely manage to parry in time. “Robert, Lyanna chose to come with me, I swear to you.”

“LIAR.” Robert screamed again. “YOU KIDNAPPED HER. YOU RAPED HER.”

“No,” Rhaegar spoke again, again narrowly avoiding the hammer. “She left with me willingly. She never loved you-.”

The dragon prince’s words were drowned out by a roar coming from Robert Baratheon. The man’s rage was palpable, even to Bran who was watching through the Weirwood, he could feel the man’s fury.

Rhaegar swung his blade close to Robert’s face, causing the large man to stumble back despite his wroth. Then the silver prince hit the man in the head with his shield, before thrusting the blade into Robert’s shoulder, right under the man’s arm.

Bran felt his heart leap into his throat, and despite the fact he knew how it ended he felt the hope that prince Rhaegar managed to win, rise in his chest.

With another roar, Robert raised his leg and kicked out. His steel covered foot connected with Rhaegar’s knee causing him to stumble back.

As suddenly as a strike of a lightning, the hammer connected with Rhaegar’s chest, and the rubies flew.

He watched them fall into the river, like small red stars that made no sound as they dropped into the flowing waters of the Trident.

Prince Rhaegar, fell down on his back, his indigo eyes wide and filled with shock as he tried to suck in a breath. It came as a rattling noise as the man started to cough up blood. “Lya…Lyann…Ly..” He tried to speak, his mouth half gaping as he struggled to breath and fought to stay alive. “Lyanna…”

“You don’t deserve to say her name.” Robert had dropped the hammer on the ground as he held the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood that was staining the yellow and black armour. “You never deserved her.”

The man knelt by the prince and placed his large hands on the prince’s neck, getting ready to strange him. Bran stared with horror. This was not how he had been told it had happened.

Yet he was in for another surprise. The prince grabbed something from the belt around his waist and swung it at lord Robert.

Immediately, Robert’s hands retreated from the prince’s neck and the man let out a yell of pain as he clutched at his elbow.

A clean-cut slash had been made where the joint was unprotected by the coloured steel and in Rhaegar’s hand was a familiar looking dagger.

Bran felt his breath catch in his throat as the downed man coughed up more blood, and then he could hear Rhaegar’s breath leave his lungs and the light in his eyes disappear.

Robert grunted, a pained expression on his face and rose to his feet. He stumbled to where his cousin had fallen. The man glowered at the unmoving prince; his blue eyes still alight with fury.  

He knelt again, and reached for the dagger that was laying innocently in the grass, the blood still glistening on the valyrian steel. Robert turned the blade in his hand, and the recognition in his eyes clear. He looked back at where Rhaegar’s body lay unmoving on the ground, and then he spat at his fallen foe.

Bran could hear the men around start to take notice that it was Rhaegar Targaryen that lay dead, and he could hear the men yell out.

Soon the Targaryen army would break apart and start their retreat, however Bran knew in his gut that there was nothing more for him to see here. As he left the Ruby Ford, he could hear his father’s voice call out Robert Baratheon’s name. Bran did not wait to see lord Eddard Stark. He had more important business to attend to.

DAENERYS

Watching her figure in the looking glass, Dany found herself pleased with the seamstress’s work. The black dress complemented her beautifully.

Dany ran her hands down the tight bodice feeling the bump of the polished rubies, forming the shape of a dragon, before turning to look at the woman who was staring at her in wonder, her brown eyes wide, awaiting the queen´s judgement. “I like this one. I want more, all black and red of course.”

It was time to cast away the horrid fashion of the masters and their ilk. It was time for them all to see her for what she was. A true Targaryen queen.

The woman bowed deeply, and Dany could hear her let out a deep breath, clearly happy that she had pleased her. Turning back to the looking glass, Dany wondered if she looked like either Visenya or Rhaenys Targaryen.

Aegon the Conqueror born again in the body of Visenya Targaryen, the people would say when they saw her taking the Iron throne from the reaching grasp of the Lannisters, Baratheons and the Starks.

The woman bowed. “At once your grace.” Then rushed out of the room leaving Dany in the room with her serving women.

Turning to Jhirri, the long black train five feet long flowing behind her as she addressed her handmaid. “Where is Missandei? I have need of her.”

“Lady Missandei is with lord Tyrion, Khalessi.” The young woman said with her arms full of fabric that she handed another Dothraki woman.

“Oh.” Dany stared at her, feeling a frown on her face. “But she was with me during court, does she not need some rest?”

Dany could still feel the ache in her butt and back, having to sit on that throne for hours. Listening to complaints always left her in pain.

However, there was no way that she would place a cushion on the throne, Dany would have to get used to a harsh seat when she took the Iron throne and as Aegon the dragon had once said: A King should not rest easy on their throne. Nor should a Queen, Dany thought.

“Shall I send word to lady Missandei?”

“Yes, I have desire to speak with her.” Dany said waving her off as she stepped from the looking glass and walked to the balcony.

Out in the sunlight the servants had placed a table and chairs, making Dany smile as she sat down. Down on the streets, Dany was sure she could hear people call and yell, but she was too far away from them to hear what they were saying.

Above her, Dany heard Drogon move about as he dosed in the heat of the sun on top of the pyramid where a statue of the Harpy had once sat.

A feeling of glee rushed through her at the thought that now it was her mount’s nest. A fitting justice.

A serving girl came with a tray in her hands, filled with cheeses, figs and other sweet fruit and placed it on the table in an artful display before pouring a cup of wine for her.

Thanking the girl Dany looked back out to the Bay of Drogon. As she sat there and took a deep breath, the smell of smoke filled her nostrils, and she was suddenly brought back to that fateful day when Rhaegal and Viserion had broken out of the Dragonpit.  

The feelings of fear when the pyramid had shook rushed through her. Looking in the direction where they had headed, Dany found herself wondering where they had gone.

Had they perhaps left for Old Valyria?

Lord Tyrion had said once that he and Ser Jorah had seen Drogon fly over Valyria as they sailed through it when they were making their way to her.

While she did not trust the Imp of Lannister, she could not fathom why he should lie about seeing Drogon.

Reaching, Dany took a small fig and bit into it, savouring the flavour.

“Your grace.” Missandei stepped out on the balcony, the slippers she wore not making a sound. “You wished to see me?”

“Yes, come sit with me.” Dany gestured for her to sit down beside her. “You were meeting with lord Tyrion?”

“Yes, your grace.” Missandei folded her hands together in her lap. “I wanted to talk to him about the new tax policy.”

“Of course.” Dany nodded looking out into the bay. “Has there been a word about Rhaegal and Viserion?”

Missandei look back to her lap and Dany was forced to squish the anger down. “What about Hesh? And the alliance you and lord Tyrion were pushing for?” Dany felt the irritation seep into her words when her friend did not give her any news of her children. Rhaegal and Viserion needed her, why could they not see that?

“We should be expecting news any day now, your grace.” Missandei said hurriedly and as she spoke, Jhairri appeared in the doorway.

“What is it, Jhairri?” Dany asked the young woman, feeling more irritation in her belly at the interruption.

“Khalessi, there is someone from Westeros here to see you.” Dany frowned at the woman, her heart leaping in her chest. Had one of the lords come to declare for her, to help her take the throne?

“Who?”

“A Victarion Greyjoy.”

Dany felt her heart plummet at the news, she already had house Greyjoy sworn to her. “Related to lady Greyjoy no doubt.”

“I do not know your grace.” Jhairri said quietly. “He is awaiting your presence outside the throne room.”

Nodding, Dany stood up, followed by Missandei. “Go and gather my advisers. I might have need of them.”

They left the balcony much to her bitter disappointment, Dany had been looking forward to resting the entire time as she had been attending court and then fitting for the new dress.

Yet a Queen´s duties were never done.

When the crown with the three dragons had been placed on her head, Dany left her chambers and Missandei in tow, along with Ser Barristan who had been standing guard, as silent as was his way.

Not even throwing a glance his way, Dany held her head high as she walked towards the throne hall. Let the man keep his silence if he wished, he would soon see that she was Aegon the Conqueror reborn, destined to restore house Targaryen to its former glory.

Entering the throne room, Dany sat down in the uncomfortable throne as Ser Barristan took up a stance behind her and Missandei just above the last few steps, leading to her throne.

Lord Tyrion had already arrived, standing in his usual place by the bottom of the steps, below Missandei, he greeted Dany´s adviser with a nod and Dany herself with a quiet: Your grace.

Daario did not make them wait long as he rushed into the room, followed by the Greyjoy siblings and Greyworm.

When all her advisers had gathered, Dany turned to Asha Greyjoy. “Who is Victarion Greyjoy?” Her stomach churned at the fact she had to ask the woman anything.

“Our uncle.” Asha shook her head, her short hair almost falling into her eyes. “He tried to usurp me at the Kingsmoot, before his brother Euron managed what he had intended to do.”

Dany felt the irritation rise in her, although not at Asha Greyjoy. Rather at the man she called uncle. Another usurper, was Westeros filled with them?

Lady Greyjoy´s brother remained silent and stared at his feet, his face grey and eyes wide with fear as he clutched his hands together by his belly, the few fingers that remained to him hidden by the sleaves of his shirt.

Nodding at one of the servants, Dany allowed them to send the man in.

Not one man walked in but several. Most of them were wearing salt-stained leathers, with swords and axes bound at their waist, as they dragged in a strange and tall looking horn, that resembled the ones on Drogon’s head, however much larger. It was as tall a grown man, decorated with carvings that she could not make out from this distance, gleaming black and bound with red gold and valyrian steel.

Dany raised a brow at the mighty horn. Was it a gift for her? If so, then her fury at the attempt of Usurpation might be forgotten.

Leading the group, a man with dark hair, wearing a steel plate armour and a handsome golden cloak around his shoulders, and an ugly scowl walked forth. The man had to be around forty years or there about, with his pale skin looking almost grey as one hand rested on an axe and the other hidden behind his cloak.

The man looked as if he were in pain, yet desperately trying to conceal it.

“You stand in the presence of her grace,” Missandei spoke loudly and clearly. “Daenerys Stormborn of house Targaryen, First of her name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men. Queen of the Bay of Drogon, Khalessi of the Great grass sea, Breaker of chains, Vanquisher of the Harpy and Mother of Dragons.”

The entire time that Missandei spoke of her hard-earned titles, the man did not take his eyes of Dany.

“I am Victarion Greyjoy, the rightful King of the Iron isles and the North.” His voice was strong and deep, and his words almost made Dany sneer with rage.

Asha Greyjoy however did not seem angry. “So, you found your way to Meereen uncle. I had thought you would have gotten lost before getting to Lannisport.”

The men following Victarion Greyjoy snarled quietly at lady Asha, as she smirked down at him and Dany had to fight the urge to smile at the jape.

“And you should be in your husband´s bed, niece.” His golden cloak turning with him as he addressed lady Asha.

The Ironborn woman did not seemed admonished at all, instead she laughed loudly. “Let my lord husband come and get me if he can, I doubt that he can even make it out of his castle before dying of old age.”

The man scowled at her; his anger clear on his face yet he said nothing, only staring at his niece not even bothering to hide his rage.

Watching the man who had claimed to be the rightful King of the Iron islands stew in his fury did little to quell Dany´s own rage at him. This man had no right to try and lay claim to what rightly belonged to her.

No gift would quell her rage if the man dared to try and claim what was hers by rights.

“My lord.” Dany said nonchalantly, covering the anger she felt at the man. “I am confused, the last I heard there was a lord ruling the Iron islands as they serve as vassals to house Targaryen?”

The man turned to look at her, his face blank as he tried to find his words. “The Targaryens are no more. The Iron Islands have declared themselves a free people and conquered the North.”

Staring at the man, Dany felt her blood boil. “Yet here I am.” Her words were laced with venom as she stared down the miserable man before her, trying to deny Dany the birthright that had been hers since the cradle. The entirety of the Seven kingdoms belonged to her, by the laws of gods and men. And this man was daring to deny her.

“Why did you come here, uncle?” Asha Greyjoy´s face was hard as she stared at the man before them. “If you say that house Targaryen is at an end, then why come at all?”

“It needs not be.” Victarion Greyjoy puffed out his chest the best he could. “I can give you many strong sons, Daenerys Targaryen. Sons fit to sail the seas and ride dragons and rule the Seven Kingdoms.” She could hear Drogon shriek from atop of the pyramid as her anger grew.

Staring at the man before her, all Dany felt was disgust and anger at him, thinking that he was worthy of her, that he was mentioning giving her sons. She would never have children. Rhaego was the only one she had ever carried in her belly, and of the three she had given life to in the Red Waste, only one remained by her side.

Rhaegal and Viserion left you, abandoned you to your enemies. The voice that was uncomfortably like Viserys´ hate filled and mocking tone made her shudder. No. No, they had not abandoned her, the slaver in Yunkai had been wrong.

They had been frightened and had flown when the Sons of the Harpy tried to hurt them. They had. They had. Rhaegal and Viserion were mighty, but they would never have Drogon’s courage. For he was Balerion the Black Dread come again. They had been contenting residing in the Dragonpit, while Drogon had refused to.

“And why would I marry you?” Dany asked, hiding her seething rage. “What can you offer me that I do not already have?”

Victarion Greyjoy stared at her, his eyes hard and unyielding. “I will take the Iron throne, give you warrior sons, and I have many ships and the might of the Iron islands.”

“I already have the Iron Islands.” Dany gestured to lady Asha, who seemed to stand taller as she stared down her uncle. “So, what use do I have of you?”

Victarion Greyjoy snarled, his face twisting in his fury. “A woman cannot rule the Iron Islands, no woman is strong enough to rule the Ironborn.”

“I am strong enough.” Daenerys felt the dragon wake in her breast. “I am the Dragon´s daughter. I will rule the Seven Kingdoms, and no one will stop me.” Her eyes trailed over the man before her. “Not even weak old men like you.”

“WEAK?” Victarion Greyjoy shouted as Daario Naharis unsheathed his sword a few steps bellow her. The Ironborn´s eyes were wild with anger as his hand rested on the handle of his axe. “I am of the Ironborn. I have been killing men before the Mad King even fucked you into your mother.”

“Bloodriders.” Dany switched to Dothraki when addressing her warriors who stood on both sides of the room, awaiting her orders. “Bring me that one´s head.”

No one insulted her father or her mother in her presence.

As the bloodriders rushed forward, blood flowed in the throne room. The Ironborn had been shocked by the sudden assault and they barely had time to grasp their weapons.

“You grace.” Lord Tyrion called over the noise, his face pale and filled with horror. “Perhaps it would be wise-.” The man bit his tongue as Dany glared at him. She would have no objections.

This man had disrespected her. He would have to pay.

Victarion Greyjoy let out a roar of anger as rushed forward. Not towards Dany, rather to the golden horn that his men had dragged into her throne room.

One of her Bloodriders ran towards him, only to have the axe buried into his skull and pushed aside as Victarion Greyjoy marched to where the magnificent horn lay abandoned.

Dany felt herself rising to her feet as she watched the man grab the horn and take a deep breath, before he blew it.

The sound was like the dying screams of a thousand souls and her very bones felt like they were on fire. Dany fell to her knees, frantically trying to shield her ears from the screeching. The fighting in the hall came to a halt as every man fought to cover their ears as Dany did.

Yet high above her, she could hear Drogon roar from his nest. His cry was almost faint as his voice battled against the noise Victarion Greyjoy wrought from the cursed artifact.

The scream of the horn echoed of the hard stone walls and floor, downing out the cries of the men that had been fighting.

Then, a great shudder ran through the pyramid. Turning her head as she tried to shield her ears from the still blowing horn, Dany could see that the stone on the side of the great hall started to glow hot red as Drogon’s roar could be heard through the noise.

Again, Drogon assaulted the wall, and this time he succeeded. Hot stone burst into the hall and was thrown across the floor. Glowing red hot, the remains of the wall framed in her beloved child like the dragon was a moving painting, roaring as he clawed his way into the pyramid.

Relief flooded her, as she watched her child. He had come to save her.

Drogon’s red eyes burned like hot coals, smouldering like the pits of hell as he opened his mouth and breathed out his black flames at the horn and the man who had brought it in.

As the black flames touched the horn, the screaming twisted in the air, almost taking on a new tone, like a demon dying or wailing under a torturers blade.

Dany watched the fires burn, eating the hated man who had brought the horn into her city and most of his men and the bloodriders who had fallen to the floor when the horn had been blown.

When finally, Drogon stopped breathing fire on the horn, Dany could that the red-gold had turned to a runny liquid, pooling onto the stone and the valyrian steel had blacked and twisted a little.

The black dragon roared in fury, his fiery eyes wild and filled with danger. Rising to her feet, Dany felt blood tickle the skin of her leg, and she realized that in her fall to the ground she had cut her knee on the harsh stone.

She paid the pain little mind as she rushed down the stairs where Drogon roared again and let out another torrent of flames at three bloodriders who had escaped the first fires of the Dread.

The men screamed as they died. Their skin sizzling as if it were meat on a pan, and Dany could now smell nothing but burning flesh, ash and blood.

One of the Dothraki blood riders was standing by the stairs as Dany rushed past him, limply holding a leather whip in his copper skinned hand as fear paralyzed him. Reaching out, Dany took it from the man who did not utter a word of protest.

“DROGON.” Dany screamed at the top of her lungs, trying to get her mounts attention before she raised the whip in her hand.

Drogon turned his gaze towards her and as she stood before him. Bellowing out another roar, this time directed at her, Dany raised her hand and cracked the whip again, this time hitting Drogon’s snout causing a loud shriek to escape the dragon.

Her mount snarled, his eyes flashing as Dany cracked the whip over his head, just barely touching one of his blood red horns.

She could hear her councillors yell in the background, yet Dany paid them little heed.

She was of Blood of the Dragon and a dragonrider. Of Blood of Old Valyria and the mother of Dragons.

Drogon would bend to her will, he was her child and her mount. Just as Balerion had bowed to Aegon the Conqueror, Drogon would bow to her.

Snapping the whip again, Dany felt pain flare in her arm as its end sliced her skin, cutting it open and allowing the blood to flow from her arm, yet she did not stop.

Drogon roared at her again, snapping at the whip as it rained down on him, the end of it cracking back at his black scales.

The horn that the man had brought in had done something to her child. It had driven him into a wild frenzy. Drogon opened his maw once more and she could feel his hot breath again as he made himself likely to breath fire at her once again.

A hot rage bubbled in her gut at the thought. He was her child and her dragon; he was supposed to listen to her.

The end of the whip flew through the air again, this time landing on the dragon’s tongue, causing him to snap his mouth shut immediately. Gripping the handle of the whip firmly, Dany rushed forth, passed the dragon’s head and vaulted into the saddle, cutting the skirt of her new dress on one of the black scales.

Paying the dress no mind, Dany latched herself in quickly. Somehow without dropping the whip as Drogon shrieked before letting lose a breath of fire at two Unsullied who had come to close, their spears held up as if to jap them into her child’s neck.

With another crack of the whip, Dany screamed as the wind blew in from the city though the gaping hole in the wall. “FLY DROGON.”

Again, Dany snapped the whip against Drogon’s scales, and her child only roared and snapped where it had landed on his shoulder. Again and again, Dany cried out her commands and cracked the whip, willing her dragon to obey, her arm growing tired from the constant movements, until finally Drogon listened.

The Dread rushed to the hole and threw himself into the air with a fierce shriek, yet as Dany tried to turn him, he ignored her.

Instead with a great cry, the black dragon let out a breath of flames. Right into the side of the Queen’s pyramid.

Dany felt her gut twist at the sight. The stone cracked and glowed red from the force of the fires. Once again, Dany snapped the whip, its end landing on Drogon’s long neck, hoping that he would turn away from her pyramid.

Thankfully, this time her mount listened to her. Twisting in the air, Drogon changed his direction with a roar.

He roared and snapped his powerful jaws, as he tried to catch the end of the whip.

“NO DROGON. LISTEN TO ME.” Dany cried against the wind that tugged harshly on the bells in her hair as she cracked the whip again. “OBEY ME DROGON.”

As they flew in circles above the pyramid, Dany felt her frustration build in her belly. This was not supposed to happen. Drogon was supposed to listen to her, listen to his mother. “DROGON OBEY.”

With a snarl, the Dread beat his powerful wings and they rose in the air as Dany’s commands were ignored, then the black dragon changed his direction again and she came to a sudden realization where Drogon was now headed.

Drogon headed right towards the city.

Chapter Text

ARYA

Quicksilver tossed his head as the sun shone brightly down on them, making his silver-grey mane shine, as Ser Robar Royce struggled to keep up with them, as his horse snorted nervously as the two direwolves ran by her side.

The Targaryen army slithered like a giant snake through the Riverlands, heading straight for the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, coming for the false queen’s throat.

The time was coming ever closer, when Cersei Lannister would have to answer for her crimes. Arya wasn’t sure that she could contain herself from shoving Needle through her hateful green eyes, yet she would do her best.

Jon wanted to hold a trial for her. So that she might answer for her crimes in front of the lords of Westeros.

Arya felt a bit miffed at that, yet she would do as Jon asked. Jon was right. Jon was always right. More people that her had suffered at Cersei Lannister’s hands, and they needed closure as well.

Arya and Ser Robar reached the head of the army, where lord Royce and Ser Brynden were waiting for them. “That was fast.” Her uncle remarked with half a grin on his weathered face. “We had not thought to expect you for a few hours.”

“Lady Arya rides like the wind, Ser.” Robar noted with a huff as he trailed behind her. “I swear she must be half a horse.”

“Ha,” Lady Mormont bellowed out a laugh. “She rides like her aunt, the late lady Lyanna. That one could out ride even the greatest riders in the North.”

“Likely not just the North my lady.” Ser Robar shook his head and patted his destrier on the neck. “Likely the Vale too.”

“Everything is in order my lord.” Arya said to lord Royce, who turned to face her. “Lord Banefort and Ser Addam Marbrand are moving their men closer to lord Redfort’s and lord Flint’s men.”

“Do you think that they will trouble us?” The lord of Runestone asked.

“No, they won’t.” Arya assured the man. “It is lord Crakehall that I would worry about.”

“I think you are right.” Lord Royce nodded.

“What do we do about it, father?” Ser Robar asked his brows pulled in a quizzical furrow.

“We separate him away from all those who might try and ally with him against us.” Arya nodded, as they continued to ride to the Crownlands, she would have to continue to keep an eye on lord Crakehall. The man might not be powerful now, but it was best to make sure that he did not start up trouble. Perhaps it would be wise to rope lord Varys into keeping an eye on the man.

The spymaster had been telling the truth back in Riverrun, yet men changed their alliances all the time in war, and lord Varys was more slippery than most, of that, she was sure. But that did not mean that he could not be of use, and he already possessed a spy network that she would rather was working for Jon than his enemies.

“My lords, my lady.” A man wearing the leaping trout of house Tully rode forth, holding the banner of her mother’s house in a firm grip as he bowed at the waist, still mounted on his bay courser. “Lord Tully would like to inform you that lords Mooton, Rykker and Velaryon have arrived.”

Ser Brynden raised his brushy brows and let out a huff, before he insisted on riding along with the messenger to meet the three lords and escort them. “Should we raise the tents?” Ser Robar asked his father.

“No, it is not even midday.” Lord Royce shook his head. “We need to ride as far as we can while daylight is still good. The nearer to the capital we are when his grace returns, the better.”

They continued to lead the army towards Kings Landing, yet they did not get far before her grand uncle managed to catch up with them, the three arriving lords in tow, along with Lord Edmure.

“My lords.” A tall man wearing the blue and white of house Rykker called with a merry smile on his face called and gave them a wave. “It is good to see you once again, and this time under the banner of the one true King.”

“Indeed.” Lord Royce nodded with and grinned. “It is good to see you as well lord Renfred. I have not seen you since the Tourney of the Hand.”

At the very mention of the tourney that Fat Robert had held in honour of her father, Arya felt her belly churn.

“Ser Brynden tells us that the king flew to Oldtown. To put the threat of the Ironborn down? Have you heard from him since?”

“No we have not. However, he has not been gone for long.”

Lord Rykker nodded before his eyes travelled to the two direwolves that flanked Arya and her horse. “You must be lord Edmure’s niece, lady Arya.”

“Indeed.” Her uncle puffed up his chest like a proud rooster. “My lords allow me to introduce my beloved niece lady Arya Stark of Winterfell.”

Arya nodded and allowed Ser Brynden to be the one to sigh at the unnecessary announcement, as the man had already made it clear who she was. “Honour to meet you, my lords.”

“I am lord Renfred Rykker, my lady.” The tall man bowed deeply even though he was still on his horse. “And my companions are lord Willam Mooton and Ser Aurane Waters, lord Velaryon’s most beloved uncle.”

“Honour to meet you as well my lords.” Arya spoke, already tired of the niceties. She longed for moment Jon returned so he could be the one to suffer the lords and their constant courtly manners. That would show him, for leaving her without even taking her on a dragon ride.

The youngest of the three, was silver haired and young, and his eyes raked up her body that made her raise a brow at him, daring him to say something. She sat straight in the saddle, pushing away the uncomfortable feeling that the young man made her feel.

Nymeria bared her teeth as she stood close to her and her horse as Ghost glared at the young man. “What news from the Crownlands?” She asked lord Rykker, who seemed happy to answer.

“Ser Davos is sending more and more dragonglass North, as the king commanded.” There was a curious look in the man’s eyes as he glanced at her and then at lord Royce, as if hoping for an answer. Ser Davos had clearly not told the man about the dead beyond the Wall. “And we have been making sure that King’s Landing is blocked from the Narrow Sea.”

“Arya nodded. “I am sure that his grace is most grateful for all your efforts, my lords.”

“Is that Darksister?” The young, pale haired man, Ser Aurane Waters asked suddenly, derailing the conversation.

“Aye.”

The pale blue eyes of the bastard of Driftmark glanced at the hilt of the sword, his face seemingly twisted in thought. “King Jon must trust you a lot, to allow you to wield his ancestral sword.”

“He does.” Arya gripped the reins harder as they continued to ride towards the capital. “I have heard that you used to sit on Cersei Lannister’s council, is that true Ser?”

“It is.” There was a pride that seemed to fill Ser Aurane as he guided his own horse closer. “And I must say that I have never seen a woman who was madder than Cersei Lannister.” He offered her a grin that he must have thought was charming. “Yet my sacrifice was not in vain. Now his grace has even more ships under his command and sieging the city of his ancestors. All paid for by the Lannister’s.”

“I am sure that his grace can think of a fitting reward for your suffering, Ser.” The gravelly voice of Ser Brynden reached them as the man rode up to them, sending the other knight a hard look, that the younger man seemed content with ignoring.

“And what suffering it was.” Aurane Waters let out a laugh. “That woman looked at me as if I were a slice of bacon and she was dying of hunger.” A few of the lords laughed at his words, only leaving Arya, Brynden and lord Royce silent. “I feared for my very life that at any moment, the lioness would come for me as she did Robert Baratheon.”

More laughter echoed thought line of nobles that surrounded them. “So, you think that Cersei Lannister killed her husband?” Arya asked not allowing her curiosity to slip through.

“Who else could it be my lady?” The knight grew slightly more animated at the laughter of the lords, yet he remined very dignified in his manner of movement, just as any highborn lords ought to. “The boar might have struck the killing blow, but it was the squire that his now conveniently dead, burnt in wildfire that supplied the Usurper with drink for days on end.”

Arya said nothing, yet she did feel a sliver of satisfaction hearing Aurane Waters echo what lord Varys had sworn to be what he believed was the truth. It did make sense that Cersei Lannister had been the one to order the Usurper’s squire, who was her cousin that she was sleeping with to get Robert Baratheon drunk enough on a hunt so that he might be killed.

After all, it had been her who had benefited the most from it.

They rode throughout the day, and until the sun started its descent, when lord Royce and Ser Brynden agreed that it would be best to camp for the night.

Arya was glad to see the tents rise and campfire’s lit. After such a long and hard march, it was good to dismount and rest, she was sure that Quicksilver appreciated it as well.

Dismounting and handing Quicksilver of to a squire, Arya walked through the encampment with Nymeria and Ghost on her heels. Her feet carried her to where the command tent had been raised beside Jon’s own personal tent.

Every day, lord Royce ordered the servants to raise the king’s tent, just in case he might return. Arya just hoped that they might see him soon.

As she was about to enter the command tent to meet with the lords, she could hear a familiar roar reach her ears. Her heart leapt into her throat from excitement as she whirled around.

The encampment when deadly silent as every eye turned to the skies, hoping to catch a glimpse of the king and his dragons returning.

Another roar broke through the silence, and then the men erupted into cheers as Ser Brynden and the newly arrived lords rushed out of the tent from behind her.

Then she saw them.

She spotted Rhaegal first, as he sailed through the air gracefully, closely followed by his pale and golden brother.

The emerald dragon turned and landed just behind Jon’s tent, where Ser Brynden always ordered space to be left for the two dragons to rest during the night, just in case the king would return.

Arya almost ran between the two tents, Nymeria on her heels as Ghost bolted past them, happy wagging his tail as Rhaegal lowered himself to the ground, allowing his rider to dismount. Viserion landed beside his brother, shrieking and shaking his horned head, looking awfully smug with himself. 

As soon as his feet touched the ground, Jon greeted Ghost, who shoved his head against his chest. A laugh escaped Jon as he greeted his direwolf. She wanted nothing more than to run to her brother and hug him so tightly that her arms would ache.

Her uncle Brynden and Ser Edric both march forth and waited patiently until Jon had given both the dragons their well-deserved pats.

“My lords,” Jon greeted the men as he walked towards them, Ghost beside him and the two kingsguard at his heels.

“Your grace,” Lord Umber bowed deeply. “How did you fare in the Reach?”

“Let us talk in the tent, I am sure you have all had a hard day’s march. You deserve some rest.” Jon gestured for the command tent. “You have travelled much further than I had expected, I had not thought to look for you this far past the Stoney Sept.”

Arya watched the pride flood every lord’s and knight’s faces at the well-deserved praise from Jon. They had in fact almost reached the Crownlands, and likely in a day they would cross the borders.

Entering the tent, servants rushed around to pour ale and wine into cups and carry in huge pots of warm stew.

As most of the lords took their seats, Jon turned his gaze toward the new lords. “You must be lords Rykker, Mooton and Ser Waters of Driftmark, I presume.”

Arya wanted to shake her head at Jon’s strange recollection of every and all sigils that have ever existed. She was sure that if she showed him one from a house that had been dead and gone for more than a millennium and had only been for around a hundred years, he would recognize it instantly.

“Indeed, your grace.” Lord Rykker was followed by the two other men to the middle of the tent before Jon and quickly bent the knee. “We have come to swear our swords and our houses to your cause, your grace.

“I trust you had a safe and an uneventful journey.”

“We did indeed, you grace.” Lord Mooton spoke for the first time, as he bowed deeply again.

As the lords were shown into their seats, lord Royce spoke up. “What news from the Reach?” Lord Royce inquiry was followed by a tense silence as they waited for Jon to speak.

“Lord Willas and his brother, Ser Garlan have sworn themselves to our cause, as have the lords that followed them to Oldtown along with Ser Baelor Hightower.”

Jon’s response was met with hearty cheers which echoed through the tent, the Northern lords banging their cups on the tables, spilling their contents onto the wood at their celebration.

“And the Reavers? Your grace?” Ser Lyn Corbray asked, as Arya’s mouth was filled with distaste at seeing him. “What of them?” Like lord Crakehall Ser Lyn Corbray seemed to have little love for Jon, and while the knight of the Vale seemed to hide it much better, he was the sort to go wherever the wind blew him.

“We managed to capture some of the lords, but most of Euron’s Reavers died in their attack on Oldtown and the Arbour.”

“The Arbour, your grace?” Lord Rykker asked leaning forward as Ser Aurane Waters stared hard at Jon, his eyes not wavering of Arya’s brother.

“Aye, Lord Willas never received words form lord Redwyne. So, I decided to fly to the Arbor to see what was going on, only to find more Reaver sieging the castle.”

“It did not end well for those fuckers, I am guessing.” Tormund Giantsbane asked, waving a cup of ale in the air and laughing.

“It did not.” Jon responded, causing the lords to cheer even more. It was such a strange thing, to see lords from the Westerlands celebrate with the lords of the North and the Riverlands.

Having a common enemy seemed to be doing wonders for unity.

“Will Euron Greyjoy be sent to the Wall your grace?” Ser Lyn asked with a raised brow. “More good men are need to fight the Dead after all.”

“Euron Greyjoy has already received his punishment.” Jon said, his eyes cold and hard as he looked on ahead. “I took of his head, and it is now mounted before harbour of Oldtown.”

After a few hours of the lords peppering her brother with questions about what had happened in Oldtown, which Jon answered with more patience than Arya could have, he decided to take his leave and head to his own tent, gesturing for both of his kingsguard and Arya to follow.

Entering the tent, Jon poured her a cup of ale and handed it to her. “How have things been going, truly? I cannot imagine that relations have been easy between the lords of the West and the others.”

Arya nodded. “They have mostly been behaving themselves, but it is only lord Crakehall that is truly dissatisfied. And I do not trust Ser Lyn Corbray.”

Ser Brynden snorted. “No one in their right mind trusts Ser Lyn. He was one of Littlefinger’s lackies, and now without a master, he will be looking for another.”

Arya would have to keep a close eye on the knight and get lord Varys to do so as well. The spymaster would be all too willing to help, not only to get into Jon’s good graces, but also with their…understanding.

Studying her brother’s face as Arya lifted her cup to her lips, she could see the exhaustion linger in his dark grey eyes.

“It will not be long until we reach the capital.” Arya said slowly, her eyes fixed on her brother feeling the urge to speak up. “I have an idea if you are interested.” Arya grinned at her brother, and she could see him try and fail to keep the smirk off his face.

“Does it involve pies?” Jon teased her, the exhausted glint in his eyes retreating. “I cannot agree to any plans from you that involve pies.”

“No stupid.” Ser Brynden sighed heavily while Ser Edric seemed to be fighting against swallowing his tongue. “Of course not. I don’t want to repeat myself.”

Jon shook his head and gestured for her to continue. Grinning happily, Arya rose to her feet and grabbed a map of the Crownlands and flattened it out in front of her brother and his kingsguard, starting her explanation.

DAENERYS

Smoke still rose from the city and one of the smaller pyramids was now half a ruin after the wrath of Drogon. Anger burned in her gut as she watched the desolation that Victarion Greyjoy had done to her city.

It had been his fault. He had done something to Drogon.

Staring out from her balcony, Dany watched as the huge black scars littered the landscape of Meereen, as another flare of pain stabbed at her head. Smoke still rose from the ruins that had been left in the wake of Drogon’s fury, even though the fires had been put out by the Unsullied.

Dany could hear her child roar and cry from beneath the pyramid, where Rhaegal and Viserion had been kept before their escape.

It was for the best. She tried to convince herself. While her child calmed down from the rage that had been awoken in him by Victarion Greyjoy, he was safest in the Dragonpit.

Yet, the thought of Drogon, chained in the dark, alone but for her most faithful and trusted of Unsullied burned at her like the black fires that her mount unleased upon her enemies.

Dany turned her eyes to the pyramid of house Pahl, who were one of her many foes in the city. The pink and white stone seemed to mock her as it shone in the sunlight.

The champion of Meereen had been a son of that house, and many of those guilty of murdering the children had been executed by her when she took Meereen.

Had the mothers of their house allied themselves with Victarion Greyjoy? To try and steal Drogon away from her?

They would pay.

Turning to look where the pyramid of Loraq stood proudly, glinting lilac and indigo, Dany felt the anger churn in her again. Had Hizdahr’s family been a part of the plot against her? Her betrothed had been killed in the fighting when Drogon had returned to her, slain in the Son’s of the Harpies attempts to murder her.

Her enemies were everywhere. Why not the Loraq family? They had thought that their son would be a king, and now he was only a corpse in their crypts.

As Drogon let out another roar, Dany gripped the barrister on the balcony so hard that her knuckles turned white, and a stab of pain flared in her heart at the very thought that he now languished in the Pit.

Drogon is safe there. Dany tried to assure herself. With a contingent of Unsullied and well fed, her child would come to no harm.

She would not make the mistake of leaving him unattended after Rhaegal and Viserion had broken out of the pyramid as they fled the Harpy and her sons.

“Your grace.” Jhairri’s voice echoed of the stones of her chambers. “Lord Daario Naharis is here to see you.”

“Show him in.” Dany commanded as she continued to stare ahead, the buildings below her starting to blend together in one multicoloured blob.

“My Queen.” Hearing her faithful servant’s voice carry over to her made her heart skip a beat, yet she remained still as a statue.

His footsteps were light and when she felt his warm hand on her back, she felt a shiver of excitement run down her spine. Her Master of War was one of the few she could trust; she could see that now.

“How many?” Dany asked the man. She almost turned to face him, yet she managed to stay still, watching the smoke rise into the air.

“Thirty, this night. But rest assured my Queen that I am doing everything possible to capture the men responsible.”

“It was the Sons of the Harpy.” Dany told him as she glared hard at the Pyramid of Pahl.

“I do believe you are right, your grace.” She could feel the man’s hand travel lower on her back, ever so slowly as the heat of his body reached hers. “I have a solution to your problem, if you are willing to hear it.”

Dany turned to face Daario. His normally smirk was nowhere to be found on his face as his deep blue eyes looked serious for once. “What is your solution?"

“Round all the masters up and allow them to taste the wrath of your dragon.”

Dany stared at him, his height allowing him to tower over her. She remembered in Astapor when she had ordered her new Unsullied to kill ever man that held a whip, only allowing them to spare the boys under thirteen. Yet somehow the masters had still managed to take back the city after the Cleon the Butcher had been killed.

They would never stop.

Not until Dany stopped them.

There were now no slavers in Astapor or Yunkai. And there never would be.

“My queen if your enemies are dead, they cannot hurt you.”

“I do not fear for myself.” Dany told him and walked back into the room and grabbed a pitcher of wine and poured herself a cup. “The Dragon has no fear.”

Filling another cup, Dany handed her lover some wine. “The men who died, were they all Unsullied?”

“No, your grace. Most were Dothraki.”

Dany felt the frown grow heavy on her brow as the ache in her head returned. The Dothraki were fierce warriors and her Unsullied were unmatched with a spear in their hands, experts with the short sword and the shield.

It should have been impossible for the Harpy to kill her men.

A knocked on the door brought her out of her thoughts as Jhairri walked in and curtsied clumsily. “Khalessi, lady Missandei says that it is time for court.”

Dany breathed a sigh and nodded before walking out, as Daario rushed to walk beside her, as Ser Barristan followed them, a white spectre, silent as the grave. “My Queen,” Daario piped up as they strolled through the halls of her pyramid. “I also wanted to speak to you about Mantarys.”

“You want to attack it.”

“Yes, my Queen. We need supplies for your conquest of the Sunset Kingdoms and with lady Missandei and the Imp wanting to give them all away to the Freed men and the Slavers, we have little choice but to find more.”

“The Slavers can find their own food.” Dany hissed furiously and sent her Master of War a stern glare.

“As you say, my Queen. Yet the problem is still the same, your armies need supplies, and we need more ships, even with the Greyjoy fleet now in your service.” He walked in front of her, forcing her to come to a halt. “My Queen, let us set out to the other cities. Your armies and the fleet can travel to Tolos and when the city is yours, the army can go to Mantarys and the Ironfleet to Elyria. You can have vengeance for the way they disrespected you and the supplies you need for your conquest.”

She studied her master of War for a moment. It was a tempting prospect. To take the three cities and their riches, and she would be that much closer to regaining her birth right. 

Ser Barristan cleared his throat as he stared at Daario, who only smirked at the man and slowly moved out of her way. Dany continued walking. “You are right. The masters of Elyria, Tolos and Mantarys joined Yunkai in their war against me. They have to pay.”

She still remembered the sight of the heads of her three envoys as they had been shown to her in that cedar chest. Their glassy eyes unseeing, staring at her, beseeching her to avenge them. “Gather the Dothraki and have lady Greyjoy rouse the Iron fleet, we shall return the cities of my enemies to the dirt.”

The smirk on Daario’s comely face widened, showing off his golden teeth. “It shall be done, my Queen.”

As the man hurried off, Dany could practically feel the disproval of the knight following her. “You disapprove.”

“I don’t think that my opinion matter much, your grace.”

She came to a sudden halt in the hallway, turning on her heel and staring up at those harsh blue eyes of Ser Barristan. “Those men are my enemies. You surely did not object when my brother Rhaegar fought the Usurper.”

“No, I did not. However, Rhaegar did not have a dragon.”

Dany’s lips were a fine line as she stared up at him. She had grown to hate the name of her brother. Every time the man before her looked at her, all he did was compare her to her perfect brother Rhaegar, the Silver prince. Her brother who had doomed his family to wander around Westeros when he had lost to Usurper at the Green fork.

“Rhaegar died.” Dany remembered her conversation with Jorah before she had brought her Unsullied and freed them from slavery.

Rhaegar fought valiantly, Rhaegar fought nobly, Rhaegar fought bravely. And Rhaegar died.

Jorah had been right, Rhaegar might have been all those things, but he had not been her. Rhaegar was not a dragonrider, he had not hatched dragons when everyone had said that it could not be done. And Rhaegar had failed, when she would succeed.

Turning on her heel, Dany spoke over her shoulder. “And you are right. it doesn’t matter much.”

Holding her head high, Dany entered the great hall, and she felt the anger boil in her as she could see the scars on the stone.

From when Victarion Greyjoy intended to steal her child from her.

Both Missandei and the Imp were already on the steps, talking quietly. As she watched the two of them speak, Dany wondered what they were speaking about. “Missandei, my friend.” She called and gestured for her to follow.

Dany sat down on her throne and gestured for the proceedings to start.

As always court was tedious, yet somehow, today was worse. So many came to beg for assistance and reparations for the destruction that Drogon’s fires had caused to their homes. And every time, Dany had to repeat that Victarion Greyjoy was the one who was responsible for the tragedy, and he had been punished for his crimes. Then she gave the people a few gold coins, so that they might rebuild their homes.

Dany felt that the line of people begging for help was endless, yet lord Tyrion insisted that it was only a small fraction of those affected.

Yet with every coin she handed out, she knew that soon it would put a rather sizable dent in the coffers. It was coin she needed to conquer Westeros.

How long until it ran dry?

Daario was right, they needed to take the other cities.

As a man begging for help to rebuild his house bowed and left, Missandei leaned over. “Your grace, lord Tyrion and I have good news.” Her words were quiet, and she did not take her eyes of her own slippers as she addressed Dany.

Missandei might not have thought Dany would notice, but she could see that the other woman seemed a lot more reserved than before. Ever since Victarion Greyjoy had tried to steal her dragon from the rightful queen.

“Oh?”

“Yes, my Queen. We received words from Hesh. They have agreed to our terms and soon we shall start reserving the supplies we need for the upkeep of the city.”

“That is good news.”

Turning her attention back to the petitioners, Dany watched as two figures stepped forth. Both were women yet the taller one, and clearly the oldest was mannish in her appearance with her hair tied in a knot. She moved like a warrior, yet there was an uncomfortable air around her, as if she was missing a limb and getting used to it.

The other was younger, and more pleasing to the eye. Slender as a willow with long black hair, the younger woman was a beauty.

The women could not have looked more different from one another, yet they moved as one, both giving her a deep bow.

“Queen Daenerys of house Targaryen.” The slender one spoke, her dark eyes shining. “I am Nymeria Sand, the daughter of the late prince Oberyn Martell, the true prince of Dorne. And is Obara Sand, the princess of Sunspear and Dorne.”

Dany raised a brow as she watched the women. “Oh, and why have you come to Meereen?”

“To declare for the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, your grace.” Obara Sand declared for all to hear. Dany felt a smile appear on her face at the woman’s words.

Lord Tyrion Lannister, however, was quick in wiping the smile of her face. “And here I thought that the princess of Dorne was Arianne Martell, the daughter of prince Doran.”

Lady Obara snarled as she looked at the little man. “Be silent Imp, if you were not under the protection of the Dragon Queen I would tear of your head and shit on it.”

Blinking at the crass language of the woman, Dany found herself amused by her. She could learn to like that one. “Lord Tyrion is my advisor. Disrespecting him, is disrespecting me.”

At her declaration, the tall woman looked suitably chased, as the other walked forth. “My sister meant no disrespect to you, your grace. It is just that our family has suffered immensely at the hands of house Lannister. We were rather surprised to see one of them here in your court, acting as if it had not been his father who ordered the death of princess Elia and her children.”

“I was a boy of nine when Robert’s Rebellion broke out.” Lord Tyrion said as he stood at the bottom of the steps. “I can hardly be blamed for what happened when I was only a child, staying in Casterly Rock.”

“You are a Lannister.” Lady Nymeria said, a cold smile on her face. “That is enough.”

Leaning over to Missandei, Dany whispered to her dearest friend. “I have had enough for today. I will speak with them in the small council chambers.”

As Missandei nodded, Dany rose to her feet and walked out of the hall and headed straight for the exit. She reached the council chambers quickly and gestured for the servants to bring her more wine as the ache in her head.

The others followed her in, with the exception of Daario, and the Greyjoys. Likely her master of War was planning their new conquest. Then as quickly as a lightning strike and out of thin air the idea that Daario was with lady Greyjoy to lay with her entered her mind.

No, it could not be.

Daario was devoted to her.  

Missandei sat down to her right as Dany watched the women before her. “You have come to declare yourselves to my cause, to aid me to take back my birthright?”

“We have your grace.” Lady Obara stood as tall as any knight. “We only ask for two things for you to give us in return.”

Dany then felt the anger of the dragon return. How dare they ask for anything in return for what by rights belonged to her. She was their Queen, their felty and loyalty should not come at a price.

“And what is that, pray tell.”

Dany could see the doubt in lady Obara’s dark eyes as they stared at one another.

“The Martell name, your grace. Only a king or a queen can give those born out of a wedlock the trueborn name of their parents.”

“Your grace.” Lord Tyrion walked forth, his mismatched eyes on her. “I urge you not to-.” Dany silenced him with a hand.

“You can have the Martell name.” She did not care what the three girls called themselves, as long as Dorne would be hers. “And the other thing?”

“Vengeance.” Nymeria spoke up. Her voice was cutting as a dagger tearing through flesh.

“Cersei Lannister still rules the Red Keep, the home of your ancestors.” Lady Nymeria Sand, or now Martell spoke up, holding her head high. “And the Kingslayer was running to the Riverlands the last time we heard, alive and mostly well.”

Dany felt a smile tug at her lips at the thought of the man who had murdered her father now missing his hand. Yet she could only wish that it had been her who had taken it. And preferably fed it to Drogon.

“Done.” Dany said with a smile. If the other kingdoms would fold as easy, then Dany would be Queen before the year was out. Soon the Iron throne would be hers, and all the lords of the Seven kingdoms would bow before her and her dragons.

Gesturing for the servant to come to them again, she ordered him to pour them cups of wine, so that they could toast to their new alliance.

Regrettably, they could not offer her much in news of her kingdoms, only telling her that now their mother, Ellaria Sand, now ruled Dorne from Sunspear.

As they left, following Missandei to their quarters, lord Tyrion walked forth, looking troubled. “Your grace. May I speak with you?”

Draining her cup gestured for him to speak, not even the Imp of Lannister could dampen her mood now.

“I do not believe it wise for you to support the Sandsnakes, your grace.”

“Why not? It was hardly a high price to pay for Dorne, not even Aegon the Conqueror managed to have Dorne on his side when he took the Seven Kingdoms.” As she poured herself another cup, she could feel herself grow dizzy from drink, yet as Tyrion spoke again, she felt the throbbing of the pain in her skull.

Ever since Drogon had heard the blasted horn, the headaches had started to grow as fierce once more.

“You are right. King Aegon never managed to bring Dorne into the fold.” Dany almost dropped the cup in surprise at hearing lord Tyrion agree with her. “However legitimizing the Sandsnakes when they are trying to usurp their cousin, who is trueborn and next in line for Dorne could affect your own claim to the Iron throne.”

A sneer grew on her face as fury bubbled in her belly. “This trueborn heir to Dorne is not here, is she?”

“No your grace.”

“Yet these three are. They are here to declare for me and hand me Dorne in the process.” She walked slowly towards the little man. “A whole kingdom in the span of an afternoon.”

She almost towered over the man, glaring at him with such fierceness that she was surprised that he did not combust. “If this Arianne Martell wanted to continue being the princess of Dorne, then she should have come here, and sworn herself and her house to me. Yet she didn’t, and now she has to pay the price.”

“As you say your grace.” Lord Tyrion bowed and walked out of the room, while a servant rushed in, his cheeks flushed from running.

“Your grace. A Red Priestess, Kinvara has arrived. She wants to speak with you and says that it is urgent.”

Chapter Text

DAENERYS

Once again, she sat down on the uncomfortable throne and she had to wonder how her ancestors had done this, day in and day out.

Yet she would never allow anyone to walk into the throne room without her seated on the throne. Her subjects needed to see her on that uncomfortable chair. They needed her strength, and she would deliver, just like Aegon the Dragon had done.

A stab of an ache went through her head as she sat down on her throne, and she could hear Drogon let out a roar of outrage that he had been chained in the Pit underneath the Pyramid. Rubbing at her temples, Dany tried to soothe herself. Soon they would head west and take what belonged to them.

She watched as Missandei nodded at lord Tyrion and greeted him kindly and Dany could feel a sharp sense of irritation rush through her.

Dany was not blind to the fact that the two of them were working closer together since she had left for Yunkai and Astapor.

“Lord Tyrion.” The former slave greeted the small man with a nod as she passed him the way up the stairs to her queen’s throne.

The small man smiled back at her, and it was a gristly sight, yet even as Dany and many of her men flinched at the sight of the nose less man smiling, Missandei did not. Rather she smiled back kindly as if she were looking at any other man in the city.

“My lady, have you finished with the numbers?” Lord Tyrion asked.

Dany’s friend nodded, looking grave. “Indeed, I have, do you have time to look over them today or shall we talk about them tomorrow?” Missandei asked and Dany could feel irritation rise in her again.

What numbers? What were they talking about?

“Let’s do it after the meeting has been concluded.” The Imp of house Lannister said as he shook his head slightly almost as if he were trying to hold the action from happening. “We don’t want to make this matter wait for longer than it has to.”

Before she could ask what, they were talking about, the side doors of the great hall opened, and Daario Naharis walking in and beside him was Asha Greyjoy. 

Fury burned in her as she watched that tall whore walked beside Dany’s own lover as if she belonged beside him. Dany was not blind to the looks Asha Greyjoy was sending her Master of War.

Gone where the charitable thoughts she had entertained when the woman’s hateful uncle had come to Dany’s court, demanding things that weren’t his.

Asha Greyjoy coveted what was Dany’s. Every day she stared hungerly at Daario Naharis she proved that she had not truly learned from trying to take Dany’s throne away from her the day that they had met.

She would see. Soon she would see.

“Show the priestess in.” Dany commanded her Dothraki. As the double doors opened Dany made sure to hold herself tall. Everyone needed to see her strong. Men only respected strength.

A tall woman, wearing a once splendid red dress that covered her slim and womanly body that had now been ruined by wear and dust from the road. Her long brown hair trailed down her back would have looked magnificent if it had been properly washed and yet, despite the travel worn woman looked beautiful as her head was held high as she was followed by two burly looking men, looking a lot worse for wear than their leader.

Even though the men were large and muscular, the woman seemed to overshadow them as if they were children, following their mother.

The woman, bowed elegantly as she made it to the bottom of the stairs leading to where Dany was seated on her throne. “My queen, I am High Priestess Kinvara.” Her tone was sultry and seductive as her brown eyes looked at Dany almost adoringly.

Despite the dirt on her dress, the priestess held herself as if she were royalty herself. Born and bred to lead and inspire.

Sitting even taller than before, Dany could feel a warmth wash over her, feeling the woman’s gaze on her person. “And what is your business here in my city?”

“I have come to tell you of a betrayal against your grace.” The lady spoke in an even tone and her words echoed of the stone in the hall.

Dany felt the fires of anger burn in her as they flickered to lord Tyrion for a moment. Seeing the blood flee from the small man’s face, Dany almost ordered her bloodriders to seize him, but the little man was saved by the priestess.

“No, my most gracious of Queens. Not the Imp of Lannister.” The priestess, Kinvara said with a slight shake of her head, causing her long hair to move along her back. “An even greater betrayal than you could imagine had been committed against your grace.”

“Name this traitor.” Dany commanded the woman. “Name them and be rewarded for your service to house Targaryen.”

Kinvara fell to her knees, her robes and dress flowing around her. “I regret to inform you that my own order, the Red Priests of R’hollor have betrayed your grace.”

Dany frowned at the woman. She did not know much about the Red Priests or their religion, nor did she much care, but they had clearly gone against her. What had they done?

“What has your order done?” Dany asked the woman as she stared down at her, her eyes hard as amethyst. “How has your order gone against me?”

Were they supporting the slavers? Were they hiding the masters of Astapor?

Kinvara looked up at her, her brown eyes wide. “A member of my order, Melisandre of Asshai, has woven some dark spell that she no doubt learned from the Shadowlands beyond Asshai. She has corrupted the Flames of R’hollor for her own gain, to try and mask her failures. Even the high Priest Bennero has fallen to her lies.”

“What lies?” Dany now demanded, leaning forward on the throne feeling the fiery grip of anger on her heart.

“That there is another, with a claim on the Iron throne.” Kinvara said gravely.

Dany felt the fury churn in her belly. “You mean Aegon, who has landed in the Stormlands.” He would die screaming for his deception. No one could dare to try and steal from the Dragon without tasting the Dragon’s wrath. “I know all about the traitor in the Stormlands. He shall pay for his treason against me.”

“No, your grace, not him.” Dany felt her stomach drop at lady Kinvara’s words.

“What do you mean?” Icy terror and rage ran down her spine as she stared at the woman. What was the woman saying?

“Melisandre, after seeing her false champion, Stannis Baratheon fall, has propped up another puppet to do her bidding. Someone she claims is the son of your brother Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark.”

Bile rose in her throat as she heard those words. “Rhaegar had no children but those he had with his wife.” Dany hissed angerly.

Her brother Viserys had only told her of Aegon and Rhaenys, who had been murdered at the order of the Usurper. Viserys had told her that Aegon’s head had been smashed against a wall, while Rhaenys had been stabbed half a hundred times.

Rhaegar and his line were gone. It was only her left of their great family.

“Rhaegar only fathered Rhaenys and Aegon.” She declared strongly, staring at the other woman at the bottom of the stairs. “They were his only children, and now they are dead.”

“The dragon prince held Lyanna Stark for months.” Asha Greyjoy said with a smirk on her face as she crossed her arms over her chest. “It might be that he got her with child during that time.”

“Then it would be a bastard.” Obara Martell hissed her dark eyes flashing with anger. “A bastard living on borrowed time.”

“Not necessarily.” Lord Tyrion piped up, looking almost grey as his eyes flickered from one person to the next.

“It would be a bastard.” Nymeria Martell glared at the small man, her eyes promising pain. “Who’s every breath would be an insult to Dorne and it’s people.”

Dany held herself even taller now, the two women were loyal to her. Dorne stood with her.

“My queen.” Priestess Kinvara spoke again, her sultry voice a warm caress on her skin. “The great flame in the Temple of Volantis is our most sacred fire, said to have been lit before the Doom by a dragon of one of your own ancestors, and kept alive by my order throughout the centuries since.”

Dany blinked at the woman, stunned at the news as the woman continued. “It is said that no man can fool it, nor can any false visions be seen in it, yet Melisandre has done so.”

The throne room was deadly silent as the woman rose to her feet and took a step up the stairs, every eye trained on her. Yet Kinvara only had eyes for Dany, even as her guards gripped their weapons, ready to defend their queen. “With some dark spell Melisandre of Asshai has corrupted the flame, forced it to show her lies instead of the truth, convincing many of the Red priests away from the light.”

Dany could see the looks of doubt on the faces of her councillors. However, Dany knew better than to doubt. In the pyre of her Sun and Stars, she had seen visions of a great sorcerer, firelions, unicorns and other animals in the flames. They had been trying to tell her things, secret things she had not understood.

Had R’hollor been trying to speak with her?

“What does the fire now show?” Dany asked the woman, who took another step up the stairs towards her.

“It showed Melisandre’s puppet, her new champion, stepping out of a great pyre, surrounded by shadows and ice as wolves howled in the darkness.” She now looked hesitant for only a moment. “And in his arms and on his shoulders, were four small dragons.”

“You lie.” Dany hissed at the woman, feeling the hate and anger rush through her veins as she clutched her fists so hard that her nails drew blood.

It felt like she had swallowed the molten stone at the base of the pyramid. Dany stared down the woman as she rose to her feet. “How dare you spout such lies?” underneath the pyramid, Drogon roared with such fury that the whole structure shook from the force.

It was impossible.

Dany felt a droplet of blood tickle down her hand and fall onto the floor without a sound as she stared at the other woman, daring her to lie to her again.

Priestess Kinvara took a step back down the stairs and lowered her head yet continued to stare in her eyes. “I swear to you my queen that what I say to you know is true. By some foul dark magic, Melisandre and her puppet have managed the impossible and hatched dragons of their own.”

There was dead silence in the throne room, and Dany could feel eyes on her as she stood there standing over the other woman.

It couldn’t be.

It was a lie.

“Perhaps I should feed you to Drogon.” Dany growled as the anger continued to flare in her, growing ever stronger than before. “A fitting end for someone who dares to spread such lies to the Mother of Dragons.”

Yet the woman did not seem bothered by the threat. “A death by fire is the cleanest of deaths.” The priestess said softly. “But I do not lie. Melisandre used the boy who she claims is Rhaegar’s son to hatch dragons and is using him to claim your birthright.”

Another silence filled the throne room and Dany could feel cold fear and burning fury battle inside her.

The priestess’s dark eyes locked with Dany’s once again. “My queen, you are the prince that was promised. You are the rightful queen of the Sunset Kingdoms; the Iron throne is your birthright. Only you can stand against the Great Other. Your birth was prophesised millenniums before the Doom.”

Dany felt her heart swell as the woman spoke, her anger and fear washing away as if before a flood.

“You are Daenerys Stormborn of house Targaryen.” The priestess continued as she slowly walked up the steps again, and as Daario and Greyworm looked ready to come and push her away from their queen, Dany help up a hand ordering them to stop, feeling in her gut that the other woman would not hurt her. “You are the Dragon’s daughter and the rider of Balerion the Black Dread reborn. No puppet of Melisandre can stand in your way.”

The priestess was standing only a few steps beneath Dany, yet they were eye to eye. As she looked into the woman’s dark eyes, Dany felt as if her veins were filled with fire.

Slowly Kinvara reached out and took both of Dany’s hands in hers. “This boy that Melisandre claims is Rhaegar’s son is no match against you and your Drogon.”

The priestess knelt before Dany and gently she kissed her knuckles as softly as a butterfly’s wings beating against her skin. “I am your humble servant, queen Daenerys. My loyalty to you is undying and unending.”

Staring down at the woman kneeling before her, Dany felt the thoughts swirl in her mind.

Dragons.

It couldn’t be. It was impossible.

Only she had been able to hatch dragons. No one else.

If they were real, they would only be small now. Dany remembered how fragile Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion had been for the first few weeks. So small and delicate, so easily hurt. So dependent on her, their mother.

It would be a long time until they could be used in battle.

But the thought of someone else, someone with dragons of their own made her belly churn with fury. Someone who had their eyes on her birthright.

“Lord Daario.” Dany said firmly, still staring at the woman kneeling before her.

“Yes, my queen.”

“Gather the army. We are sailing west, to reclaim my throne.”

CERSEI

She glared hard at the banners outside the city walls. The three headed dragon seemed to be mocking her as he snarled furiously in the wind.

It should have been hers.

Just as Rhaegar should have been.

It should all have been hers.

Cersei gripped the cup so hard that her knuckles turned white as she sneered at the banners of the Golden Company. The boy must have been dropped on the head as an infant by Connington.

What kind of a fool claimed to be a Targaryen when employing the Golden Company?

“My Queen.” Cersei did not turn around as she watched the men outside her city. Ten thousand, the scouts said. She sneered at the thought. Her father had brought twelve thousand Westermen in the Rebellion against the Mad King, and Connington and his whelp thought that they could take the city away from her with less.

Unless the boy managed to find a dragon under his skirts, he would never take King’s Landing from her. She was lord Tywin’s heir, a lioness of the Rock. They would never win.

Her enemies were fools.

“Has your man killed the Stark whore?” Cersei did not turn to look at Qyburn. He too was a disappointment. With every passing day that Joffrey’s killer remained at large, Qyburn made it clear that he was just like the rest of them.

Useless.

“No, your grace.”

“Then what do you want?” Cersei rose to her feet and stalked towards the railing of the balcony glaring hard at the enemy banners outside her walls. “I am busy.”

“There was a messenger from the boy and Connington.” Turning slightly, Cersei raised a brow at the man.

“Oh?” Offering her master of Whispers a mirthless smirk. “Has he decided to surrender?”

“No, your grace. He is insisting on you surrendering the city and offering yourself up for his judgement.” Cersei tilted her head back and laughed.

As if the little wyrm could ever make a lioness cower. “Does he now?” Turning back to the army gathered before her, she could feel the cold wind blow in from the North as she leaned against the rail of the balcony. Soon winter would be here.

She fought a shiver, she hated it. When winter came, she always longed for the Westerlands as cold winds blew over the Crownlands.

Winter is coming. She could almost hear Lord Eddard Stark mock her from beyond the grave.

The Starks.  She hated them, all of them. They had stolen everything from her.

First, they had stolen Rhaegar and the crown she had been promised and then they had stolen her precious boy, her first born. Her perfect Joffrey.

“What shall I send back to the boy?” Qyburn asked as he moved closer.

Cersei lifted the cup to her lips and drained it before she handed it to a servant girl, who rushed to fill it again. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? Your grace?” 

“Did I stutter?” She snarled and whirled around to glare at the man.

“No, your grace. It shall be as you command.” Cersei pushed past the man and into the warm apartments. She had enough of the cold winds and the sight of the traitors in front of her gates.

“Any news from the West?”

“No, your grace.” Qyburn sounded uncertain as he spoke. “The only songs the birds sing, are the same as before.”

“They are traitors. All of them.” Cersei drained the cup again before grabbing a pitcher of the table and refilling it. “I will have them executed.”

“As you say, your grace. However, I have news from my contacts in the Citadel.” Cersei looked at the small man with a brow raised.

“Do I look like I care about what the grey rats have to say?” Cersei stared at the man with a snarl. “I have an army at my gates, and you want to talk about which fool in the citadel is diddling little boys?”

“Of course not, your grace.” The man bowed, looking properly repentant. “It is about the Greyjoy invasion.”

Cersei shook her head. What did she care if Oldtown was raided? If anything, Euron Greyjoy’s ambitions were a good stroke of fortune for her. Perhaps the man would sail to North to end the life of Sansa Stark for her.

Now that was a lovely thought.

It would be a fitting fate for the whore. To end her life on those barren rocks as a salt wife of Euron Greyjoy.

“It seems that the Iron fleet is no more, and that Euron Greyjoy has been defeated and executed.” Cersei almost spat out a mouthful of wine as she stared at the last of her councillors.

“What?” Her voice was dangerously low, as she fixed her gaze on Qyburn. She willed him to take back his words, yet he stubbornly refused.

“Yes, my queen.” He bowed again. “It seemed that Jon Targaryen flew on his dragon to aid the city in its hour of need, and now Willas and Garlan Tyrell have sworn themselves to him.”

The disgust she felt at hearing those words could hardly be described. It crawled up her spine and churned in her belly as if she had been forced to eat rotting meat.

She had known this would happen. She had warned her father of the Tyrell’s treachery, yet lord Tywin had insisted on allying with them. And this was how they repaid them. Licking the boots of Lyanna Stark’s bastard.

They would die.

“There is more, your grace.” Now Qyburn seemed uncomfortable. “Jon Targaryen told them that he and Ser Jaime have come to an agreement, and now the lords of the West have sworn themselves to his cause.”

Staring at the man, she heard the words come out of his mouth, yet she could hardly comprehend them. No, Jaime would not ally himself with the Stark girl’s whelp. She could only stare at Qyburn, clutching the cup in her hand so hard that it hurt her fingers.

Her skin felt cold yet she knew it had nothing to do with the cold air that had licked her skin only a few moments before.

Jaime was weak, that much was true, but he would not betray her like this. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Yet the doubt fluttered in her gut. Her brother was weak. Weak where Cersei was strong.

Her father had never realized that. Lord Tywin had never seen the truth, that she was his true heir, to Casterly Rock, to the family name, to his legacy.

Instead, he had pinned all his hopes on Jaime, who was now betraying her for the Stark girl’s brat. Jaime who was now throwing all their work, all of their father’s hopes for their family and all of her sacrifices into the dirt, just to try and safe his own skin.

What had the bastard promised Jaime? Casterly Rock? Did Jaime now desire her birthright?

She let out a loud scream that tore at her throat. The pain that filled her sliced at her like burning daggers, cutting into the insides of her chest. Cersei flung the cup in her hand at the pale red stone wall, splattering the wine across the stone like blood.

He would pay for this.

She would make Jaime rue the day he had gone crawling to the Stark girl’s whelp. Cersei would watch him writhe around in agony and devour his pain like sweetmeat.

And the lords who followed his cowardly example, they would burn in wildfire. She would have them bound hand and foot in the courtyard of her castle, and then set aflame, while she sipped wine and watched.

They would suffer. They would suffer for this betrayal.

Cersei of house Lannister would teach them the meaning of rousing the lion.

Stalking up and down the chamber the Queen glared out the window where the ruins of the Sept of Baelor lay undisturbed after the wildfire.

“Qyburn, get me Wisdom Hallyne. I have a need of him.”

The former maester bow and rushed out of the room, and Cersei ordered the servant girl to hand her another cup of Arbor gold. Suddenly the wine seemed to taste sweeter on her tongue than it had before, and she could feel the rush of excitement burn through her.

The little pretender and the fool Jon Connington would soon learn what it meant to anger the Lioness of the Rock.

She quickly drained the cup, and the servant girl refilled it as Cersei could feel the strength return to her. Walking out to the balcony again, Cersei watched as the Golden Company tried to lay siege to her city.

The cold bitter wind did not affect her as much as it had done only a few moments before and no longer did Eddard Stark’s mock word echo in her head.

She had defeated the Warden of the North, and she vanished the Tyrells.

Just like her father had crushed Ned Stark’s son and the Targaryens, and the Reynes and Tarbecks.

Soon she would defeat this Aegon Targaryen and his fool of a Hand, as she would defeat Jon Targaryen and Sansa Stark.

A slow smirk spread itself across her face.

It would be feat that her father could not boast of. To defeat real dragons.

Her blood red skirts swirled around her feet as she stalked to the chair that had been placed on the balcony for her convenience and she stared out where the men loyal to their Queen defended her walls against the little wyrm.

“Your grace.” Qyburn’s voice reached her, yet she did not bother to turn around, knowing that he had done as she asked.

“Wisdom Hallyne.” She greeted as the man in question rushed over to her and bowed deeply, much to her pleasure.

“My Queen, you asked for me.” The man’s pallid countenance had grown worse since the siege had started and his eyes had become blood-shot.

“I have need of your services.” She gestured for him to stand a little closer, so that she would not have to turn her neck to look at him.

As she told the men what she required of him, she could see the light in his eyes brighten with every word that left her mouth, and at the end, he bowed again deeply, his nose almost touching the ground. “It shall be done my Queen. Your wish is ever my command.”

Cersei raised a brow. It was a command, you fool, she thought. However, she just waved the man away so that he might see through her plan and to cease bothering her.

“My Queen.” Qyburn spoke hesitantly when Wisdom Hallyne finally excited the room. “If I may be so bold, perhaps it would be wise to prepare escaping the city if the worst should come to pass.”

Cersei turned her furious emerald eyes to the former maester. “And where too shall I go?” She hissed at him as she drank from her cup. “Shall I ride out of the lion gate? Right into the hands of Jon Connington and his puppet? Or shall I sail right into the jaws of the Onion knight?”

“My Queen-.” Qyburn mewled but Cersei was having none of it.

“Or shall I hide in the gutter and surrender my city to that pathetic Connington, who pined after a man who should have belonged to me?” The lioness of the Rock rose to her feet and glared fiercely at the man before her. “I am the queen of the Seven Kingdoms; I shall not cower before my enemies. I shall destroy them and mount their heads on the Iron throne.”

Silence reigned before as she stood and stared the man down. Until the man finally bowed again and spoke slowly. “As you say my Queen.”

Qyburn retreated from the chambers like the Stranger was hunting him down to devour him whole. Cersei huffed at the man in displeasure.

The former maester was quickly proving himself to be as useless as all other men. At least he had provided her with her faithful Ser Robert Strong, but his impertinence was swiftly growing on her nerves. 

To suggest that she, Cersei Lannister cower and hide like the sheep before her enemies.

She would rather burn the city to the ground rather than to yield it.

She ordered the servants to bring her dinner to the balcony and for them to bring her more Arbor gold, as she watched the city from Maegor’s Keep.

The anger that had filled her soon seeped from her blood as the sun slowly started it’s decent on the horizon.

A rush of excitement filled, just like the first time Jaime had come to her chambers after Robert had fallen asleep after drunkenly taking his pleasure of her, and while her husband had slept, her brother had taken her and put his own seed in her belly.

Cersei watched intently as the sky darkened, barely even touching her dinner, waiting for her plan to come into fruition. Her muscles strained under her skin as she eagerly watched for any sign that her plan was being sprung on her prey.

Absentmindedly grabbing a grape, she ate slowly, never taking her eyes of the walls and the Golden Company.

The sun had almost set when she could see commotion on the walls, and she could feel that tingling in her belly once more. Quickly rising to her feet, Cersei rushed towards the railing and grabbed it tightly in her excitement.

From this distance it was hard to see what was happening, and Cersei could feel herself grow impatient, waiting for her genius plan to realize itself.

Then quicker than it took her to blink, the wildfire ignited, and she could see the eerie green glow of her weapon.

Aerys Targaryen had been onto something when he had started to use it against his enemies.

Cersei could almost hear the screams of the pretender’s men, and she could imagine that the boy who thought himself to be the son of Rhaegar Targaryen was burning in the onslaught.

Closing her eyes, she imagined someone who looked similar to the Mad king, screaming in pain as his skin melted revealing his bones underneath and his eyes boiled and ran down his cheeks, as the gaping holes where they had been stared into nothing.

Oh, how sweet it would be.

As she opened her eyes again, Cersei felt her belly drop.

The green flames had spread onto the walls where her men were trying to defend her walls. A snarl grew on her lips as she watched her soldiers fumble around, trying to stop the wildfire from spreading, only for the green fires to run further and further out of their controls.

Fools.

Whirling around Cersei shouted at one of the guards. “GO TO THE WALLS AND TELL THEM THAT THEIR QUEEN DEMANDS THAT THEY STOP THIS FOOLISHNESS.”

The guard rushed away, terrified at the fury of the Lioness as Cersei turned back to look at the disaster that the useless halfwits were creating. Why did those who were supposed to serve her, always bungle up her plans? Why could she not rely on anyone?

Watching as they struggled to control the wildfire, Cersei watched in horror as it grew and travelled and finally reached one of her scorpions.

The horror as she watched the wildfire devoured one of her two weapons against the dragons, turned her blood cold. Once again, she could feel the cold wind blow as the chill of the night tried to wash away her victory against the fool Connington.

With a scream, she turned grabbed the table and hurled it on its side, causing the food and wine to spill all over the pale red stone.

No.

He would not win.

She would rain wildfire on them before she would give an inch, and when Connington and the little pretender was defeated, Cersei would turn the wildfire on the Onion knight.

Cersei Lannister would defeat her enemies, she would watch them burn and when the dust settled, the Lioness of the Rock would rule over Westeros.

Chapter Text

THE HAND OF THE KING

Horror coursed through him at the sight of the green flames dancing amongst the ranks of the Golden Company. The men’s screams creating a horrific tune as Cersei Lannister’s wildfire ran through their lines like a spring flood washing away everything that stood in its path.

The Hand could taste the ash on his tongue, and he could feel it crawl into his lungs as he called at the top of his voice, trying to push the words back into his throat. “PULL THE MEN FROM THE WALLS.” He called at his commanders as his horse reared on his hindlegs, sweat gathering at its neck as it screamed with fright at the sight and smell of the flames. “PULL THEM BACK.”

The Hand turned to look at Ser Brendel. “Send your riders out to the west flank and bring lord Mace and his son back here.”

“But my lord Han-.”

“NOW.”

The tall dark-haired man wisely did not ask more questions and turned his horse and rode away as the king looked at him with wide violet eyes, his own mount no less frightened than Jon’s. “We must stop this.” There was fear in those eyes that Jon had never seen in Rhaegar’s.

Rhaegar had always been a tower of strength and certainty. Never once had the Silver prince shown such terror. No, Rhaegar was a dragon, a true dragon that feared no fire.

“Jon, you must stop this.” Aegon insisted. “This must be stopped now.”

“Your grace.” Jon looked at the young boy sternly. “You must maintain your composure. Your men need to see you strong. You cannot afford the men to see your fear, you must be their courage.”

As he turned to look back on the flames, he could see that much to his ever-growing horror that they seemed to be spreading at a rapid rate. “Fools.” Jon growled, clenched his fists tighter on the reins. “DO NOT USE WATER.” He called the orders as he gestured for lord Laswell Peake to ride out and get the men under order once again. “DO NOT USE WATER. IT ONLY SPREADS THE FIRE.”

The bright green flames licked the pale red walls keeping them out from taking the city in Aegon’s name and tore into the banners like a beast cursed with ravenous hunger. Both the golden and the black and red that belonged to Rhaegar’s son fell victim to the Wildfire’s appetite and Jon felt his heart clench at the sight of a banner baring the three headed dragon, the proud sigil of Rhaegar burning away like wheat.

Gritting his teeth as he stared at the fires, Cersei Lannister would pay for holding Aegon’s birthright away from him.

Once she and her thrice damned father had planned to steal Rhaegar away, to use him to seat their own blood on the throne.

Jon Connington would take the throne and the city back, no low trick with wildfire would keep him out for long.

But first… The Hand looked at Ser Humfrey Stone. “Ride out Ser and bring Ser Harry to me. His grace and I have a need of him, direct him to the command tent.” The knight nodded as Jon turned his horse and called for Aegon to follow him.

He could hear Aegon splutter as he turned his own mount and followed him towards the tent that had been raised far away from the fighting. When he made it to the tent, he vaulted of his horse and threw the reins to a squire as he stalked towards the table.

“Wine,” He commanded the serving boy who quickly bowed. “And lots of it.”

“Jon.” Aegon followed him into the tent, his face red. “We are needed out there. To take the city, to take back my birthright.”

“No.” He leaned his fists against the table, staring at the maps that he had taken from Storm’s End. His eyes went back and forth over the delicate drawing of Kings Landing, hoping to see the secret tunnels that he knew lay around the city. If only the Spider had not succumbed to cowardice and ran away to hide under some rock or another. “We need to regroup. We need to rethink our plans.”

“Jo-.” Aegon began as he walked up to him, his mouth a fine line.

“Aegon.” The young boy did not understand. He was still only had twenty name days under his belt. Aegon had much to learn. “We cannot assault the walls if the Lannister woman might throw more wildfire our way. We need our men.”

“We must take the capital.” Aegon insisted as the serving boy returned and placed a flagon of wine on the table and put cups alongside it. “We must take it, before the bastard comes to take it away from me.”

“If what we hear is true.” Jon walked over and poured himself a cup of wine. “Then the Stark girl’s son will have both the North and the Vale, along with the Riverlands sworn to his cause. We have much fewer men than he does, and he has dragons.”

He turned and stared hard at the rightful king. “We only have under ten thousand men, and the Vale can raise over forty-five thousand alone. And they have the Knights of the Vale.” He drained the cup in one long swallow before he refilled it. “And while the North has been ravaged by war, their capability to fight is not something that we can scoff at and ignore. Stark’s son showed Tywin Lannister that.”

Aegon said nothing as he stared at him. Turning to the flagon, Jon poured wine into a cup for the king and handed it to him. “Our enemies have more men, more dragons, and now cheap tricks that we do not have. We must be careful to conserve our men, for we need them, every single one of them.”

“I need a dragon of my own.” Aegon said angerly, staring into his cup. “Both the bastard and my aunt have dragons. I should have one as well.”

There was nothing the Hand could say to that. Aegon should have had a dragon of his own.

“There is nothing for it now.” Jon shook his head, his greying hair dancing around his ears. “We can only march forth.”

It seemed like years ago now, that he had stepped on that ship in Volon Therys to finally head home. The whispers he had heard, of Westeros being ripped asunder by the war of the Five Kings. Jon had thought it an easy thing, looking out westwards as he had sailed out of that harbour.

Jon imagined landing on the shores of his homeland, to fanfare and banners of black and red waving in the wind, as all celebrated the return of Rhaegar’s son and heir. He had dreamt of riding through the streets of King’s Landing as the smallfolk cried out Aegon’s name and called out their blessings to him, rejoicing in the fact that their rightful king was coming to cast the Lannisters of the Iron throne.

His dreams of restoring the Targaryen dynasty to its proper place had been so close that he could almost taste it then.

Yet now, those dreams seemed to hang so far out of his reach. It was like he had been imprisoned, and just on the other side of the bars, his goal stood just out of his grasp.

He and Aegon did not have to wait long, for Ser Harry came rushing into the tent, followed by lord Mace who was supporting his son. The commander of the Golden Company wore a look that was mixture of terror and fury. “Wildfire.” The portly man exclaimed staring at Jon. “The woman is mad; mad I tell you.”

Connington glanced at Ser Loras who looked even more terrorized than usual. Likely the wildfire had spooked him. Lord Mace seemed to be in a similar state with his green and golden armour covered in ash and dirt. “I told you that she was. I told you; I told you what she had done with the Sept of Baelor.”

The Hand wanted to tell the man to hold his tongue, yet he refrained from scolding the man. He was the Warden of the South after all. Will Cole came through the flaps of the tent. “My lords, the men are pulling back from the city walls.”

“Good.” Jon drained another cup of wine and poured himself some more. “We need to come up with a plan, we cannot take too long in taking the city. We must take it before Jon Targaryen comes with his dragons and armies. We must have the upper hand.”

Despite his words, he could see the doubt on Ser Harry and lord Mace faces. They did not believe that Aegon could win against the Northern Targaryen, but Jon knew differently. Aegon would prevail, Jon would see to it that he would.

He had faith, even when no one else had.

Rhaegar could rest easily, knowing that his dearest friend was protecting his son and heir and soon would seat him on the Iron throne, securing house Targaryen future for all time.

The moment Jon had mentioned his half-brother’s name, Aegon was seething with rage, and it was easy to see that he was once again wanting to declare that Jon Targaryen was no kin to him. Sending the young king a stern look, Jon could see that Aegon struggled to hold his tongue.

“We must take the capital quickly.” The Hand looked back to the map on the table with a heavy frown on his face. “We have to pull our men behind the walls to protect them when Jon Targaryen comes from the North to take our king’s birthright.”

“Perhaps he will stay in the North.” Lord Mace suggested, looking nervous.

“He will not stay in the North.” Ser Harry hissed, glaring at him as Aegon sneered at the fat lord. “He has dragons and armies, and a claim to the Iron throne. He will not stay in that frozen wasteland when he could have the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Then why has he not come?” Mace Tyrell defended, his jowls juggling as his head turned to look at everyone in the tent for support. “He has dragons. And Ser Davos has men, they could have easily taken the capital weeks ago.”

Connington wasn’t sure how to answer the man’s question.

Why hadn’t the Stark girl’s son come south along with Ser Davos? Why had he simply not taken the Red Keep with his alleged six dragons.

Six dragons. The very thought made Jon nearly break out in sweat. That was twice the number of dragons that Aegon the Conqueror had when he had landed on Aegon’s high hill. Thankfully, they would not be anywhere near the size of even the youngest of the Conquerors dragons. Which one had it been again? Vhagar or Meraxes?

Jon shook his head; it did not matter. “It does not matter. Jon Targaryen has not come south yet, thankfully for us. His mistake is our fortune.” He could see a small amount of hope rise in Ser Harry’s eyes and he was glad for the man’s cunning and greed. The commander of the Golden Company had been dreaming of coming to Westeros for all his life, and now because of Aegon he had a chance to claim a lordship of his own.

He could only hope that when they had taken the city, that Ser Harry would not turn on them in favour of Rhaegar’s second son.

Ever since leaving Bronze Gate, Jon had seen the fear in the man’s eyes.

Aegon would have to promise him a lordship that would make the man never think to betray him. Perhaps Casterly Rock after the Lannisters had been dealt with.

The Hand almost smiled at the thought but managed to keep his feelings in check. The thought of having a common sellsword as the new lord of the Rock would cause Tywin Lannister to roll in his grave. Perhaps Ser Harry would even open the man’s tomb and toss the body of the Old Lion into the gutter, where it could be joined by his whore of a daughter and the Kingslayer.

That would be a splendid end for Tywin’s legacy.

“We need to stay away from the walls.” The Hand of the king repeated himself glaring at the men gathered. “We cannot spend our energy wondering why Jon Targaryen did not come south with the Onion knight. Ser Harry, I want you to take a contingent of men to the Kingswood and start felling trees. We have need of siege weapons.”

“That is wise lord Hand.” Harry nodded and headed out of the tent.

“Lord Tyrell.” The lord of Griffin’s Roost fixed his gaze on the portly man. “Why don’t you and your son head to your tent and get some rest.”

Lord Mace nodded and pulled his son after Ser Harry, leaving only the few commanders of the Golden Company and the king with Jon. “I want all of you to ride out to the men, make sure that they stay away from the walls, and keep up moral. We need them in high spirits until we have siege weapons built.”

As the commanders nodded and turned to leave, Jon called out. “Except you, Lorimas. I need a word.”

The serjeant frowned and turned back to Jon and Aegon, who was wearing a deep frown. “What can I do for you, lord Hand.”

“I have an assignment for you, Ser.” Jon grabbed another cup and poured wine into it and handed it to him. “One that needs to be done under complete darkness and with uttermost discretion.”

The man stared at him, glancing at the cup in his hand with a confused look on his face.

“I want you to go after night as fallen and search for any and all hints of secret entrances that led into the city or the Red Keep.”

Ser Lorimas blinked at him before he raised the cup to his lips and drained it. “Of course, lord Hand, I shall do as you command. May I have some men with me? Men I trust?”

Jon nodded and sent the man on his way as Aegon stared at him. “You intend for us to sneak into the castle?” His face was reddening quickly. “What will the lords say, when they find out that I could not take King’s Landing from the Lannister woman by force of my armies alone?”

“It is only a plan if everything else fails Aegon.” Jon turned on his heel and face Rhaegar’s son again. “The Lannister woman is cunning for a female, and ruthless. We must be cautious.”

“But Jon, we must take the city with the strength of our arms.” Aegon insisted hotly as he started to walk up and down the floor of the tent. “Everyone must see that I am a warrior king, just like Aegon the Conqueror.”

Jon smiled at the young man. “And you will show everyone that you are. When Ser Harry has made the siege engines and forced the gates open, the Lannister woman will fold. She will not dare to stand in your way, not without a wall between you.”

Aegon stopped pacing and looked at him, before nodded. “Fine, allow Ser Lorimas to try and find the secret passageways, but we must focus our attention on breaching the walls.”

The Hand nodded, and led Aegon back outside, so that they might ride around the encampment and install courage in their men.

SANSA

She watched as the light reflected on the walls of the glasshouses, and she could feel a sense of joy rise in her belly. Finally, they had been restored after the sacking of Winterfell and were ready to start producing food for the castle.

Her hand lay gently on her growing belly as she moved between the new structures, her soft boots moving over the dirt that had turned hard and barren by the autumn frosts. “What about Wintertown?” Sansa asked maester Wolkan as he followed her and Ser Brienne. “Can we build glasshouses there?”

“We might, but we have to divert some warm water from Winterfell to keep them hot, and it would be a hard task to dig for foundations.” The maester shook his head and wrung his hands together. “But if we manage to break through the first layer, I think that we might be able to start to build the foundations we need.”

Sansa nodded. “Alright, we should try. We need more food.” As she rubbed her belly, Sansa felt the worry fill her heart. With the war, Ironborn raids and then the Bolton occupation, supplies and food had dwindled dangerously and without aid from the other kingdoms, the people of the North would not make it through winter.

“I shall tell the builders to try and dig for foundations.”

“Thank you maester. Has there been a letter from Castle Black or the other strongholds of the Wall?” Sansa asked as they slowly made their way back to the courtyard of Winterfell.

“Yes, lord Commander Tollet has written that the Watch needs more supplies and food. But not as much as I had thought that he would need. Apparently the Wild…Freefolk have been helping with hunting in the Gifts.”

Sansa smiled as she nodded. “That is good, but perhaps we can write to lord Manderly, to buy food from the south and ship it to Eastwatch.”

“I think that shipping it up the Last River to Last Hearth would be wiser. The Bay of Seals is treacherous during the autumn storms.”

“But wouldn’t we have to build a harbour at Last Hearth?” Sansa asked, watching as guards rushed through the courtyard, heading for their stations as shift changed. “That could take moons.”

However, as she thought about it, it was a good idea of having a harbour in Last Hearth. It would make delivering food and supplies to the Wall much easier without having to sail through the Bay of Seals.

“Indeed, it would.” Maester Wolkan nodded. “But I would recommend it or at least writing to the castellan of the castle. Or maybe even lord Umber.”

“Lord Umber is with his grace.” Sansa had to fight a smile that wanted to invade her face at the thought of her husband. “And they are on their way to King’s Landing. But I will write to the castellan, and I am sure that his grace will approve helping house Umber building a harbour. It would help fighting against the Others.”

The maester nodded and bowed before rushing back inside the castle, to attend to more of his duties before they met again after supper to continue their discussion with Bran in attendance.

She had come to rely on her little brother a lot more than she had thought when they had been growing up.

“Shall we go to the training yard, your grace?” Ser Brienne asked, and Sansa nodded.

Making their way to the yard, Sansa smiled as she watched Shireen Baratheon, the rightful lady of Storm’s End brandished her wooden blade against her sparring partner. As the young girl matched the young guard, strike for strike, Sansa found herself smiling at the sight.

Shireen was getting better and better with every session, and Sansa was certain that one day she would be as good as Ser Brienne was. Able to match any man with a sword in her hands.

Normally Brienne would have been the one to train both Shireen and Rickon, but since she had to follow Sansa to speak with maester Wolkan, the knight had allowed the two future rulers to train with the young guards. It would also help them to see more people fight, and not to get stuck in ruts.

As the lady of Storm’s End parried a strike, Sansa smiled and clapped. The younger woman turned and looked at her, a toothy grin, shining brightly.

Shireen went back to her training, and Sansa glanced at her friend, who still stood at her elbow. “She is getting really good, Brienne. You have done wonderful work with her and Rickon.”

The blond woman smiled wide as a rosy blush crept up her cheeks. “Thank you, your grace. Lady Baratheon is very talented with a blade in her hands, as is lord Stark.”

“Would you be willing to train more people?” Sansa asked as she looked up at the other woman, who stared down at her, stunned.

“Me? Your grace?” Pale blond brows rose high on the knight’s forehead.

“Yes, of course.” Sansa grabbed at Brienne’s wrist and squeezing it reassuringly. “You are training both Rickon and Shireen, and to great effect might I add, of course people are going to want to train with you. Not to mention that you are the first female knight and were awarded that knighthood by the king himself for your bravery.”

As Brienne looked at her, still looking stunned, Sansa continued. “Any man, woman or child would be lucky to have you train them.”

Squeezing Brienne’s wrist again, Sansa was reminded of her sister as she looked at the knight.

Every time she encouraged either Brienne or Shireen in their pursuits, Sansa felt so much closer to her sister. She felt more like the sister she should have been to Arya as they were growing up.

It was the right thing to do, even though Sansa did not partake herself.

“I shall welcome any who want to train with us, your grace.” Ser Brienne replied as she bowed.

“Thank you, Ser Brienne.” Sansa smiled and looked back at Shireen who was being guided by the man in the yard. “But make sure not to overdo yourself. I still need you to protect me.”

Almost before she had let go of the last word, Ice came trotting from the direction of the Godswood, her tail curled and wiggling as her tongue hung from her mouth.

The direwolf that Ghost had found beyond the Wall had grown so much in the past few moons, that by now she had outgrown Lady at her untimely death.

Sansa loved her late father, but if there was something that she would never forgive the man for doing, it was killing Lady.

She knew that Robert Baratheon had commanded it, but there was some irrational feeling inside of her that refused to even consider it an argument.

He could have set her free, just like Arya had done with her Nymeria. But lord Eddard Stark had decided that his word to Robert Baratheon mattered more to him than Lady’s life.

Ice leaned against her thigh and Sansa burred her hand in the wolf’s shaggy fur. Ice would not meet the same fate. There was no Cersei Lannister any more who could command her husband to kill the young direwolf.

Cersei Lannister was stuck in King’s Landing, waiting for Sansa’s husband to come and take all that the woman held dear to her.

As she looked on, Sansa saw a young boy, around Shireen’s age stare at the young girl like she was the maiden made flesh.

Young Jeor Mormont, wearing his training attire waiting for his turn, looked at his betrothed like any young woman wanted to be looked at. With devotion and admiration clear on his face.

It seemed that the men of house Mormont wanted women who knew how to take care of themselves.

As Shireen was changed out for Rickon, Sansa made her way towards her. “You did so well, Shireen.” Sansa leaned over and kissed the crown of her head. “One day you will be as good as Ser Brienne.” Sansa did not have to look behind her shoulder to know that the knight was blushing at her well-earned words.

“You think so?” Shireen smiled widely. “I am not sure my parry is good enough; I think that I need to be quicker.”

“You are right, lady Shireen.” Brienne said sagely. “But we can address that on the morrow.”

Shireen nodded as lord Jeor spoke up. “I think you were great my lady. Really splendid.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Shireen replied shyly, as she clutched her wooden blade tightly to her chest. “Will you be taking to the yard today?”

“Of course, my lady.” Jeor Mormont puffed out his chest as only a boy in the throes of young love could. “Might I ask for your favour?”

Shireen glanced at Sansa for only a moment, before she spoke quietly. “I am sorry, I didn’t bring them with me.”

Jeor looked a little awkward for a moment, until Sansa couldn’t help it anymore. “Well perhaps Shireen will lend you her blade for the battle? A sword is even better than a favour wouldn’t you agree?”

Shireen looked at her like she had just lost her mind, while lord Jeor beamed happily in her direction. “Indeed, my queen, a blade would be the most appropriate substitute when a favour is missing.”

Jeor Mormont bowed before Shireen as she handed him the wooden blade. The boy smiled happily as he went to wait his turn. “I thought all men wanted women to be lady-like.” Shireen said in a whisper.

“Not all of them.” Sansa hugged the girl closely and kissed her cheek. “Do I have to remind you that Jon named me the Warden of the North until Rickon comes of age before he even married me?”

Sansa still felt giddy at the thought that Jon trusted her so much that he had named her the Warden of the North. The first female warden of the North in the history of the Seven Kingdoms, and the second female Warden in Westeros.

Only Jayne Arryn had been before her.

It was a strange thought.

Sansa had never imagined that she would have been named her brother’s regent or even a Warden until he came of age, yet here she was. The Warden of the North, standing beside the first female knight.

And from what Bran had divulged, Jon had even named Genna Lannister the regent and Warden in lord Tommen’s name.

Sansa wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but she understood his thinking. They needed the lords of the West, and they had to make sure that they followed Jon, and from what Sansa had heard, lady Genna was not the worst of the Lannisters.

No, the worst was in King’s Landing, holding the city under the pretence that her son was the trueborn son of Robert the Usurper.

Kissing Shireen’s cheek again, Sansa brushed her hair back behind her ear. “I am on your side; you know that right?”

“I know.” Shireen said before she nodded, hugging her around her waist that was rapidly growing. “I am just nervous.”

“There is no need to be.” Sansa whispered back. “You have time to get to know Jeor better, and you can always talk to me, and I promise I will listen.”

Listen and protect you. Sansa thought. Protect you from monsters who would harm you like Joffrey, Ramsey and Littlefinger. “Go on now, watch and learn.” Sansa urged the younger woman forward.

“My queen,” Ser Brienne said as they watched Rickon battled against the guard. “Lord Brandon is exiting the Godswood.”

Turning to see Bran, being pushed out of the Godswood by young Podrick Payne, Sansa moved towards her brother, who was looking worse for wear. Bran was pale and his eyes were red with exhaustion as she strode toward him. “Bran are you alright?” She almost kicked herself for asking such a question, of course he wasn’t alright.

“I am fine Sansa.” Bran forced a smile on his face. In his lap was the dagger that they had found amongst Baelish’s belongings, as it had been for the last few weeks. “Could we meet in your solar?”

Nodding, Sansa and Brienne followed Bran as Podrick ran from the training yard and started to push her brother to the solar that would one day belong to Rickon.

Sitting down in the chair that had once belonged to her father, Sansa looked at Bran. “What did you see?”

“Jon has already reached the Northern army again.” Sansa breathed a sigh of relief at the news. She had so hated it that Jon and his dragons had left their men and gone to Oldtown to rid the city of the Reavers. Knowing that a stray arrow was all that was needed to hurt or kill Jon. “And they have reassumed their march towards King’s Landing.”

Just as Sansa was about to speak, Bran continued. “But I was in Meereen today. Daenerys Targaryen is already mobilising her men and heading towards Westeros.”

Her heart sank at those words. “What?”

“Aye, apparently she had learned about Jon hatching dragons of his own, and that was enough to galvanise her to head west.” Bran was frowning heavily. “Her control of Drogon is dubious at best, especially after Victarion Greyjoy came to Meereen, but she is slowly regaining the control she lost after Drogon’s rampage.”

Sansa rose to her feet and started to stalk up and down the solar. “How long until she reaches Westeros? Where is she planning to land?”

“I don’t know where she is planning to land yet, but it will be moons before she manages to land on Westerosi soil.” Bran assured her, the dagger in his lap untouched as his hands gripped the armrest of his wheelchair.

Rubbing her belly, Sansa felt the worry of her unborn child fill her. She would need to keep Jon’s heir safe.

Nothing could hurt their child.

From what she had heard of Daenerys Targaryen, she would not suffer any rivals for the Iron throne, meaning Sansa’s husband and child were in grave danger if the woman managed to make it to their shores. “Where is she now?”

“On her way to Tolos.” Bran looked troubled as he spoke. “With her is a priestess of the Red God.”

“Melisandre?” Sansa couldn’t believe it; the woman had been a fierce believer that Jon was the saviour that she had prayed for.

“No, a priestess named Kinvara.”

Sansa took her seat once more, and she could feel Ice huff at her feet.

“My queen, it is time for supper.” Brienne said gently and Sansa could only nod. She would have to appear at supper. The people of Winterfell needed to see Sansa amongst them.

Sansa was followed by her brother and her dear friend into the great hall of Winterfell, and she took her seat at the head of the table as servants rushed around placing food and wine on the tables.

A young woman with brown hair held a pitcher tightly in her hands, and smiled at Sansa, even though her eyes seemed terrified. “Here your grace.” As she intended to pour the wine into Sansa’s cup, Ice jumped forth, growling and showing her teeth to the woman.

The girl tossed the pitcher of wine away from her in fright as Ice continued to glare at her, and showing her sharp, white teeth.

Sansa felt her heartbeat so rapidly in her chest that for a moment she thought that it might burst out of her chest, as her skin felt icy cold with fear.

“Take it.” Bran spoke up, his eyes furious as he stared at the woman. “Pick it up.”

“My lord.” The serving woman stuttered as she looked at Bran and the exit. “Please-.”

“No, pick it up and drink from it.” Bran demanded and turned the wheels of his chair as he had been stationed beside Sansa, his blue eyes blazing with fury. “Now.”

The girl stared at him for a moment before she shook her head. “No, my lord I am not worthy to drink-.”

“Now.” Bran repeated, the anger in his voice clear.

Ice growled angerly as she slowly approached the woman who looked terrified.

A small sliver of sympathy wedged its way into Sansa’s heart. The memories of her stay in the Red Keep and, in the Eyrie, flooding her mind as she watched the other woman’s face. 

“Are you working for Cersei?” Sansa asked the woman softly as she felt every eye in the hall stare at her. “Are you?”

“I am sorry.” The woman sobbed suddenly as guards made their way towards her. Then suddenly the woman grabbed a dagger from the folds of her skirts and rushed at Sansa.

But before the woman had even made it even halfway towards her, Ice rushed forth and bit at the assassin’s forearm as Sansa heard Brienne draw Oathkeeper from its sheath. The woman screamed and howled as Ice’s teeth sunk into her flesh, and Sansa watched stunned as the blood ran down from her arm and onto the ground.

The guards grabbed at the woman’s shoulders, hauling her back to her feet, after Ice had dragged her down, yet the direwolf’s teeth remained in her flesh, even as the dagger fell down to the ground. “Who sent you?” Sansa asked, feeling the dread fill her.

“Please my queen.” The woman sobbed as Ice pulled at her arm. “Please.”

“Did Cersei send you?” Sansa felt the dread for her child fill her veins as her arms wrapped around her belly, hoping to protect her child from harm.

“My family, your grace.” The woman sob as Ice refused to let go of her arm, blood trickling through the fabric of her dress. “He has my family?”

Ser Brianne stalked forth and grabbed the woman’s other arm, and Sansa gestured for Ice to let go. “What man?” A slow and low murmur rose throughout the hall as Sansa stared down the woman who had tried to kill her. “What man sent you?” She repeated.

The woman shook her head and let out a wailing sob. “I don’t know his name. I swear to you my queen, but he is holding my children. He said that he would kill them if I did not do as he commanded.”

Holding herself tall, Sansa felt bile rise in her throat as her direwolf came and stood by her side, still snarling at the woman. The man had to be working for Cersei. There was no one else that was still living that had any cause or desire to kill her. Unless Littlefinger had left his lackies some instructions that she was to be killed if he was dead. “Ser Brienne, take her to the dungeons. Make sure she is heavily guarded.”

Turning to the captain of the guards of Winterfell, Sansa gave him the order to tighten security, and as he nodded and hurried out of the great hall, Sansa turned to her brother.  “Bran, I hate to ask…”

She didn’t want to force her brother to go back to the Godswood, but right now they had to make sure that Winterfell was free of all would be assassins.

“You don’t have to ask.” Bran said resolutely. “I will go and search for the man and the woman’s family.”

As Podrick grabbed the handles of Bran’s chair, Sansa felt any desire to eat having long since dissipated.

Chapter Text

SANSA

Her palm brushed against the rough stone wall as she made her way slowly down the spiralling stairs, leading ever deeper under the castle. The dungeons of Winterfell were a place that Sansa could not remember ever entering before. Neither her father nor her mother had ever wanted her or Arya to go there nor Bran or Rickon as they were too young.

The dungeons were darkly lit, and rather cold compared to the rest of the castle, but not so much that it would make anyone freeze to death. However, it was enough to be uncomfortable.

“Are you well your grace?” Ser Brienne asked as she hovered by her elbow, as they followed Ice’s figure trot on ahead of them, her nails scraping against the stone floor. “If it is too much for you, then we should head back.”

“I am fine, Ser Brienne.” Sansa tried to force a smile on her face, but she knew that it failed. “I must do this.”

“But in your condition…” The taller woman trailed off, her eyes looking unsure.

“I know.” Sansa cradled her belly with her hand she was not using to support her. She knew that she had to start to rest more as her belly and child grew, but she also had to make sure that her babe was safe from the assassin that had been sent to kill them. “But I have to do this, for my child.”

Brienne looked like she wanted to protest, but instead she nodded stiffly and mumbled under her breath in so low a tone that Sansa barely heard it, but she thought it was suspiciously similar to stubborn Starks.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and Ice looked at them, her gold eyes flickering over Sansa as if to make sure that she was indeed safe, before the she-wolf moved slowly forward, heading to the only occupied cell.

As they neared it, Sansa could hear quiet sobs.

How many times had she cried like that when she had been captive by the Lannisters? How many times had she cried like that when she had been alone in the Eyrie, finally allowed to grief the loss of her family? Or when Ramsay brutalized her so savagely?

A shudder rushed its way across her skin, and she could see the concerned look her knight sent her. Steeling her spine, Sansa took a deep breath, before she faced the woman who had tried to kill her and her unborn babe.

The woman was huddled in the corner, her knees pulled to her chest and her long brown hair hanging loose around her face, shielding her from curious eyes. One of her arms were covered in white cloth, hiding her wound that Ice had inflicted on her when she stopped her from murdering Sasna.

“What is your name?” Sansa asked quietly, but in the small space and with the bare stone, she might as well have shouted.

The woman looked up, her neck whipping her head up and her eyes were wide with surprised. “Your grace?” her voice shook as she clenched her fist around the fabric of her skirt. “What…what are you doing here?”

“It is not your place to question the queen.” Brienne said harshly, glowering at the woman.

“It is alright Ser Brienne.” Sansa said softly, wanting them all to remain calm and composed. “I have a few questions for you, that is why I have come.”

How would Cersei Lannister have reacted to a would-be assassin?

Sansa did not have to think about it for long before she knew the answer.

Torture, and then a painful death.

The woman stared at her; her eyes filled with fear. Was this the way Sansa had looked at people when she had been a hostage in the Red Keep? Or when she had been held captive by Ramsay Snow right here in her childhood home? “What is your name?” Sansa repeated, both her hands now on her growing belly.

The woman bit her lip and looked at the ground, and for a moment Sansa thought that she wouldn’t reply. “Bessy. My name is Bessy.”

“Where are you from Bessy?” Sansa wanted to ask who the man that had contacted her and held her children, but she remembered how lady Olenna and Margaery had pushed and pushed for information about Joffrey, and how terrible she had felt.

“Moose’s Rest. In the Sheephead hills.” Bessy answered sniffling.

“Under the command of house Hornwood.” Sansa nodded and felt Ice lean against her. Bessy flinched at the sight of the direwolf, and even though she was not fully grown, Ice was intimidating at the best of times. And now, she was staring the woman down, her lip twitching as she fought the urge to snarl at Sansa’s would-be killer. “Bessy, I know that you are afraid right now.”

Sansa drew another deep breath and watched as Bessy pulled in on herself. “Bessy, right now your children are in danger, and we need help in finding the man that is holding them.”

“He will kill them.” Bessy sobbed into her arms as she shook her head. “He told me he would. He said that he would kill them if I failed.”

“That is why we need to find him and the children.” Sansa insisted. “What does he look like? Where did you meet him?”

Shaking her head, Bessy sniffed and started to sob again. “No, no, no. He will kill them. He will.”

Grabbing one of the bars separating them, Sansa did her best to kneel down to the other woman’s eye level. “Bessy, you were ready to kill me to save you children.” Bessy sucked in a breath as her eyes flickered back to Sansa, fear filling them. “Your own queen, and the woman is who carrying the heir to the Iron.”

Bessy’s darted to Sansa’s belly before she met her eyes again. It seemed that for the first time they had been talking that the realization of what she had done had crossed her mind, and she let out a loud wail.

Sansa allowed her to cry and sob for a few moments before she spoke again. “Bessy, I have sent men out to search for them, but more information about him is needed.”

Bessy looked ready to start shaking her once more, but Sansa continued. “Bessy, this might be the only chance you have to save your children. If we can find him in time, before he learns that you have failed, our men might be able to rescue them.”

“Do you promise that they will be safe?” Bessy asked as she sniffed.

Sansa bit the inside of her cheek. A part of her wanted to lie, tell her yes. Yes, she promised that they would find the man and save Bessy’s children.

She could hear Littlefinger’s voice in her head. Telling her to lie, assure the woman that she would find her children.

However, as the words wanted to push themselves up her throat, it was like it had been closed off. The words refusing to come forth. “No, I cannot promise that.” Sansa watched the woman’s face fell and she looked ready to cry once more.

“But I can promise that our men will do everything in their power to save them. To make sure that they are taken care of.” Sansa prayed that this was enough for the woman to tell them where the man had found her and what he looked like.

Bran was powerful, but even he would have a hard time searching the entirety of the North for a man he did not know what he looked like, and where he was. Now, Bran could gaze into the past, but even only a few moons would be hard for him to pinpoint where and when Bessy had met the man.

Bran needed more information.

“He is from the south.” Bessy said with another sob as she wiped her tears from her face. “He has dark hair, and a hook nose.”

Sansa felt hope rise in her chest. “And what else?”

“He has three faint scars on his cheek.” Bessy said and Sansa felt a sliver of recognition fill her mind. No, it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.

Littlefinger had told her that he had been the man’s master, and now he was dead. “Was he about this tall?” Sansa asked as she rose to her feet and gestured with her hand of a hight slightly taller than her.

“Aye, he was your grace.”

“Was he wearing a sigil? Or richly made clothing?” Sansa felt her chest grow heavier as she continued to speak.

“No sigil your grace. But his clothing was fine, aye.”

“And where did he find you?”

“Near the Hornwood castle, your grace, as I was attending the market.” Bessy pulled her knees closer. “He grabbed my Pipa and told me that I had to follow, and if I did not do as I was told, then he could kill her and both of my sons, Hall and Donny.”

After getting all the detail, Sansa nodded and turned to leave but was stopped by Bessy. “Your grace, what will happen to me?” her voice shook once more with fear and Sansa was certain that she knew what her fate was. 

Turning back again, Sansa looked at the other woman. “You tried to kill me, and my babe. You know what will happen.”

Bessy drew in a breath as she nodded. “And my children?”

“We will do what we can to save them, and if they are alive then they will be taken care of and treated well.”

Bessy sobbed once more as she murmured her thanks as Sansa walked out of the dungeons of Winterfell and back up the stairs.

She quickly headed to the Godswood, where she knew her brother was warging into the ravens of the North, searching blindly for the man Bessy had spoken about.

Sansa spotted her little brother in his chair, under the Weirwood tree, his eyes closed and his face free of any emotion. His entre body was unnerving still and it was only his auburn hair that moved as the gentle breeze moved it around.

“Perhaps we should wait inside your grace.” Brienne said as she stood at her back, nodding at Podrick who was standing by Bran’s chair.

“No, the outside will do me good, and Bran needs to know what we have learn the moment he comes back.” She sat down at the fallen treen where her father had always sat and took a deep breath of the fresh air as Ice sat down at her feet, laying her furry head in her lap.

The emotions of the meeting with Bessy swirled around in her heart, and for a moment she still felt like that little girl, held hostage in King’s Landing. Where her every moment drawing breath could have been her last.

“Are you sure you are alright Sansa?” Brienne asked gently, leaning closer and placing a hand on her shoulder. She felt a little better at having her friend calling her by her name. It made her feel a little more real somehow.

“No,” She croaked out with a tight smile. “I feel terrible, but I must do this. I can rest later.”

Taking another deep breath, Sansa waited for her brother to awaken from his warging, so that she might tell him of what she had learned.

JAIME

He held on fast to the edge of the rowboat with his left hand, as the Red Keep loomed over them, like a towering giant, painted black in the dark of the night.

It was strange to be back here once again, only this time Jaime was sneaking back in, instead of riding out of the front gates alongside lords and servants under the banners of his house, to bring the Riverlords under Lannister rule.

Jaime could almost hear his father curse at him from beyond the grave. His green and gold eyes flashing with fury as his older son sat now in the same boat as Arya Stark and Jon Targaryen’s faithful men, ready to fell Tywin Lannister’s work in one fell swoop.

Shaking his head, Jaime pushed away the thoughts of his father’s enraged face. What mattered now, was ensuring Tommen’s safety and defeating the Dead.

Beside him, Lady Arya stared up at the castle with yet another unreadable look on her face. The pale light of the moon made her skin look even paler than before, and her dark hair shine as it was pulled in a tight knot behind her head.

Lady Arya buried her hand in her direwolf’s fur as it lay at their feet, its amber eyes staring up at the castle right along with her mistress, not even bothering to glance at Jaime, deeming him along with everyone else in the boat no threat to either one of them.

Yet despite the shiver that ran down his spine when he looked at the creature, Jaime felt better knowing that it was about to be on his side if they ran into trouble.

In the battle of the Whispering Wood, he had seen what Robb Stark’s direwolf had done when he had gone into battle alongside the boy. And that wolf had been younger and smaller than the she-wolf that now lay at lady Arya’s feet.

One of the knights rowing the boat forward gave a low grunt as if he were trying not to be heard, yet Jaime was sure that with the siege outside of the city gates, there was little need to worry about them being detected.

Cersei’s eyes would be fixed on the Golden Company.

“I don’t understand.” Tormund, the large wildling man that seemed to be always either drinking or telling tall tales of himself, spoke up as he too stared up at the towers of the Red Keep. “Why do you southerners always build everything so huge. Your Wall, your castles, hells even your towns are huge.”

“It is better to defend against armies when your walls are tall.” Jaime said, clenching and then unclenching his fist.

“Tell that to Jon’s dragons.” The wildling laughed before lord Varys shushed him before Jaime was about to tell him that most lords and kings didn’t spend their days worrying about dragons coming to attack their lands.

“Not so loud my lord.” Tormund snorted at the title as lord Varys continued. “Sound carries over water. There might be agents of lady Cersei posted not too far away.”

“I thought that it was your task to make sure that my dear sister would not see us coming?”

Lord Varys sent him an annoyed look from underneath his hood. “Even I cannot know everything, Ser Jaime.”

Jaime said nothing, only sending the man a smirk as they continued to near the castle, as two more rowboats followed them, all filled with Targaryen men, ready to hurl themselves into the mouth of the lioness that awaited them within for their king.

They travelled in silence until reaching the rocky shore at the base of the castle, and they all jumped out of the boat and helped to drag it onto the shore.

After securing the boats, lord Varys led them into a dark alcove where a young boy was waiting for them. The boy grinned happily as Varys handed him a few coins. He said nothing as he handed Varys a scroll before disappearing into the dark.

“Our way is clear.” The spider whispered and gestured for them to follow him. As they walked into tunnels, they lit torches that casts dancing shadows everywhere. “But we should hurry.”

Making their way into the tunnels, Jaime followed lady Arya and her wolf, staring at Varys’ hooded head. “How do you know that Cersei’s pet doesn’t know that we are here?” Jaime felt a sense of distaste when he spoke about Qyburn. Even if the man had saved him from infection and healed him at Harrenhall, there was something about him that did not sit right with Jaime.

The former maester had tried too hard to integrate himself with Jaime, and then Cersei for his liking. The former heir to Casterly Rock had had enough of experience to know when someone was trying to suck up to him to gain favour to recognize it when he saw it.

Varys threw a slight smile towards him. “Qyburn might have thought that he had inherited my little birds when I left the city, but he was never allowed to know anything that I did not want him to.”

“And how do you know that your little birds have not sold you out to my beloved sister?” The snide tone in his voice as they turned left and started to climb up a narrow staircase.

“I would be terrible at my trade if I did not keep my informants in line, would I not?”

Ser Jaime said nothing, only stared at the back of the man’s head.

“Does he know of any of the tunnels?” Lady Arya asked then, sending Varys a curious look.

“Of course, my lady.” The man’s boots made only the slightest of sounds as they touched the stone, likely most people would have completely missed the man if he wanted to remain unseen. “I had to make sure he used a few of my birds and feed him enough information to keep him satisfied.”

The young lady nodded slightly before going silent again.

Then they entered a familiar looking cellar.

How often had Robert dragged him and some whore down here, so that he might gloat that it had been he who had taken down the dynasty that had ridden such beasts as these?

A familiar looking skull stared at them, its empty eyes glaring at them, with its terrible mouth large enough to easily eat a full-grown man.

The skull of this creature was smaller than that of the king’s mount, yet Jaime had no illusions that it had been any less ferocious than that of his living king. Not with how the empty eyes of the long dead Targaryen dragon tried to will them away.

“It is smaller than Rhaegal.” Lady Arya said as her wolf sniffed at the black bone, before shaking her head and moving away from it.

“It is Seasmoke, the dragon of Laenor Velaryon and then later Addam of Hull.” Jaime said, staring up, into the creature’s empty eyes.

“How do you know?” Lady Arya looked at him, and Jaime was sure that he could see a curious glint in her eyes.

Jaime did not take his eyes of the skull, feeling the memories of hours spent with Rhaegar and the Mad King in the great hall, as they talked endlessly about the dragons of long dead Targaryens.

“I spent hours guarding the Mad king, as he walked long the great hall, making prince Viserys recite their names. I will not forget it as long as I live.”

Lord Varys turned to look at them. “We must go.”

Following the man through the cellar, Tormund spoke up. “How many are there?”

“Nineteen.” Jaime answered as they passed one that was distinctively different from the king’s dragons. While large, it was smaller and narrower around the snout and wide around the forehead than the one belonging to Seasmoke and the two dragons that king Jon commanded.

“Which one is that?” Lady Arya asked as they walked through the dark.

“Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm.”

“And those two?” Lady Arya asked when the saw two skulls, laying side by side in the dark. Both were enormous, and large enough to swallow a horse.

“Vermithor and Meraxes.” Jaime felt a sense of amusement flood over him as the girl’s usually blank expression turned more and more excited.

“Which one is Vhagar?”

“Just up ahead.” He found himself helpless to restrain the smile on his face. Myrcella had been just as excited when he had sneaked her down and shown her the skulls. And like lady Arya, she too had wanted to see the mount of Queen Visenya.

They passed more skulls, and in the darkness, Jaime could see Syrax, who had been brought from the Dragonpit along with Dreamfyre, and Meleys the Red Queen who had been brought from Rook’s Rest and Arrax who had washed up beneath Storm’s End.

When they walked by the skull of Vhagar, lady Arya smiled as her wolf sniffed even more at the bones that her mistress seemed so interested in. Yet despite her interest in the skulls of the long dead dragons, she did not slow her walk.

Then another one loomed over them, and Jaime knew that this one did not need him to name it.

Balerion’s black skull seemed to be made of darkness and shadows, with his teeth that were as long as swords and a mouth large enough for a mammoth to stand in his mouth.

The men gasped and whispered amongst themselves as they walked underneath the Dread’s dead gaze.

“Will Jon’s dragons be that large?” Tormund the Wildling asked, his eyes wide with awe.

“Dragons do not stop growing until they die.” Jaime nodded as he answered the other man.

How long until the Emerald Fury would be the size of the Dread?

And why were the dragons that the king commanded growing so quickly? Both were younger than dragons like Arrax and Vermax and yet they eclipsed the dragons of Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon in size.

Jaime shook the thought out of his head, it was a question better left for the likes of Tyrion and the king. Men of learning would have a much better grasp on the nature of dragons than the one-handed knight could ever hope to.

The Spider led them down a path between Balerion and another dragon with the same skull shape as Caraxes, Ghiscar. That was what Rhaegar had called him. One of the five dragons that Aenar Targaryen had brought with him to his exile in the West.

Lord Varys pushed a stone in the wall and then a part of it moved, stone scraping on stone as Jaime fought a winch, hoping that no one could hear it over the shouts of the men fighting the Golden Company.

Making their way into the corridor, lady Arya turned to look at Tormund and then at Varys. “Go on. We shall send a messenger when we are ready.”

The spymaster nodded and led Tormund more than half of the men away into the darkness before lady Arya turned to Jaime. “You know Maegor’s Holdfast better than I do, lead the way.”

Taking a deep breath, they moved quietly through the halls and as he looked out of one of the windows looking over the city, he could see the banners of his house flying over every wall and tower of the city that Aegon the Conqueror and his son Maegor had built. Cersei had clearly long since let go of the pretence that anyone with the name Baratheon was in power in the capital.

Even in the half darkness, Jaime could easily recognize where he was moving towards the royal apartments. Just outside of the doors leading to where the king and his family had stayed since Maegor the Cruel, Jaime could see four guards stand, each one wearing the crimson of house Lannister.

Lady Arya didn’t even look at him before silently moving through the shadows, followed by her direwolf and two Targaryen guards. The young woman grabbed one of the guards and as quickly as a snake she dispatched the first one and her wolf the second, one of the Targaryen men managed to kill the third but the fourth man fumbled and was hit in the abdomen by the crimson clad man’s elbow, knocking the wind out of him.

The sound of the steel armour hitting stone rang in Jaime’s ears and he was certain that the entire castle had been notified by the sound.

Fear rushed through his veins, and he pushed away from the wall and quickly ran forward. He burst into the main chamber of the apartments, where two serving maids were huddled together, both of them staring at him with their eyes wide in fear. “Where is she?” Jaime demanded loudly. “Where is Cersei?”

“In the king’s apartments.” The younger one said in a shaky voice, causing Jaime to rush away.

Running through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, Jaime quickly left lady Arya and the Targaryen men behind in his desperate dash to reach his sister and their son. When he reached the king’s apartments, he burst through the doors, seeing Cersei standing by the tall window overlooking the King’s gate, where the bulk of the Golden company was making camp. 

His heart dropped at the sight of her, as she turned to look at him, her green eyes wild and her cheeks spotted red. “Jaime?” There was hesitation in her voice as she stared at him like she couldn’t believe her own eyes. “What are-.”

“Where is Tommen?” Jaime interrupted her, his voice hard as he remembered their last meeting. The disgust in her eyes as she had looked at his stump, where his sword hand had been.

Cersei stared at him as if not believing that he was standing right there in front of her, until fury appeared on her face. “TRAITOR.” Her voice cut at his ears, as he could see the madness blaze like wildfire in her eyes. “You have betrayed me. TRAITOR. TRAITOR.”

“Cersei where is Tommen?” Jaime yelled at the top of his lungs, taking a step closer to her.

“YOU BETRAYED ME.” Cersei screamed, her hands clenching as she stared at him, her face filled with hurt and pain. “YOU ARE WITH HIM, HER SON. YOU ARE AGAINST ME, TRYING TO TAKE MY CROWN.”

Cersei grabbed a cup from one of the tables and hurled it towards him, causing him to duck as she continued to shout. “TRAITOR, TRAITOR. I WILL NOT ALLOW IT, I AM YOUR QUEEN, YOU WILL OBEY ME.”

He heard the cup crash against the pale red stone walls of Maegor’s Holdfast. “I am doing what is best for our house, for Tommen.”

This time, Cersei grabbed a flagon and hurled it towards him and again Jaime was forced to duck. “I am the queen of the Seven Kingdoms. The throne belongs to me, not the wolf girl’s pup. It is mine.”

“It’s over Cersei.” Jaime insisted desperately. “Father is dead, the throne is lost to you. King Jon-.”

“HE IS NO KING.” Cersei jumped forth and slapped him, her nails biting into his cheek and causing blood to flow down his skin.

“He is.” Jaime moved closer to her, only to have her move away, her eyes wide with fear and fury. “He has four of the Seven Kingdoms and dragons on his side, there is no possible way for you to win against him. King Jon has promised to allow Tommen to become the lord of Casterly Rock. To con-.”

“No.” Cersei shook her head, like she always did when she didn’t want to listen to reason. “Tommen is the king, the true king, not the wolf girl’s bastard. The throne is ours, Jaime. It is ours. It belongs to us, house Lannister. It is our fathers wish for us to have it. I have sacrificed everything for it.”

Her nostril’s flared as she stared him down, disgust clear in her eyes as she glanced from his face to his stump to his face again. “You are weak, Jaime. You have always been weak. Father might not have seen it but I do.”

Jaime felt a surge of rage burn in his veins and his left hand shot out and grabbed at Cersei’s pale throat and he pushed her against the wall, his hand wrapped around her windpipe, barely allowing her to breath.

“I sacrificed everything for you.” Jaime hissed as watched Cersei turn red in the face as she gasped for air. “I wanted to become the next lord of Casterly Rock, I wanted a wife and children, but I threw it all away for you. I accepted the white cloak for you.”

Grief tore at his throat as he spoke, and tears burned in his eyes. Cersei’s lips turned darker. “Everything I did, I did for you. I gave up my dreams for you, everything I ever wanted, for you.”

Jaime watched as her lips turned black and the whites of her eyes red, until a calm voice carried through his haze of fury. “Ser Jaime, let her go.” He looked over his shoulder to see lady Arya leaning against the doorway, with her direwolf standing beside her, as his heart was beating out of his chest as the fury slowly faded away and he loosened the grip on Cersei’s throat. “While I wouldn’t mind her being killed, Jon ordered her to be taken alive if at all possible.”

Letting Cersei go, Jaime watched as she fell to her knees, coughing and grasping at her throat as lady Arya gestured for two guards to come and move his sister away. “Tommen has been found and is with Tormund. He is probably telling him some wild tale.”

Jaime looked at her for a moment before turning his eyes back to where Cersei had fallen to her knees and was now being hauled off to the only gods knew where. “Is he safe?” Jaime asked, his voice faint.

“Aye, we are keeping him safe.” Lady Arya watched as the guards pulled Cersei away, still coughing. Jaime turned to face her and her wolf slowly as they were left alone in the chamber. “You should have thrown her out of the window if you wanted to kill her. That way you could have claimed that she jumped before you could stop her.”

Jaime frowned at her, as the girl looked out the window where a raven had quietly landed on the windowsill and was watching them with its beady black eyes. Lady Arya walked over to where the raven was resting and when she closed the distance, she offered her arm to the large bird.

The raven looked at her for a moment before hopping on her forearm, letting out caws and ruffling his feathers. “Sers take lady Cersei to the tower cells and keep her there. I want her under close guard, and no one will have access to her and make sure that she cannot hurt herself.”

The knights nodded and hauled Cersei out of the chambers, his sister still dazed from Jaime’s assault. “Ser Jaime, why don’t you take a few men and head to the white sword tower and secure it.”

Jaime felt the burning of where Cersei had clawed at his face as he nodded faintly and headed out of the royal apartments, his thoughts moving sluggishly through his mind.

As he left, he was certain that he could hear lady Arya whisper to the raven who was still staring at him.

Chapter Text

CONNINGTON

The Hand of the King felt a smile grace his lips, the sight before him more welcome and desired than a lover’s touch or a cool refreshing drink after a long day, fighting in the heat of the Disputed Lands.

The autumn winds blew from the North, causing a slight shiver to run down his spine, but even the chill wasn’t enough to quell the fire that had lit in his breast at the sight of the three catapults.

The catapults had been mounted on wagons, each one pulled by three pairs of huge oxen as Ser Harry led the convoy, clearly relishing in the cheers of the men.

Now, they would be able to take the city.

Finally.

With these weapons, they would be able to break open the gates of King’s Landing. As they approached the army, to cheers and hollers of the men, Jon noticed that they were not well made.

However, they would do.

They would have to.

Ser Harry would have to be commended at the incredible speed of the building time.

“He did it.” Aegon said triumphantly with a grin on his face.

“Indeed.” Jon nodded as he slung an arm around the king’s shoulder with a laugh. “You will have to give him a splendid lordship when you take the Iron throne. Perhaps even Casterly Rock.”

Aegon blinked at him. “Are you certain? Is it perhaps not too much?”

Jon shook his head. “Remember that without him and the Golden Company, we would not have taken Storm’s End and Griffin’s Roost, we would not be able to take King’s Landing now.”

Aegon huffed and looked irate at Jon’s words as he mumbled something into his chest.

“Do not worry Aegon. With you giving Casterly Rock to Ser Harry, the lords will see that you reward those who serve you.” And it will keep the man from betraying you in the future.

However, when the Seven Kingdoms had been subdued under Aegon, Ser Harry might be removed, quietly and someone else placed in the West. Someone with better breeding.

Jon almost sighed, the Hand of the king never had an easy time keeping his hands clean, but for the welfare of the king and the realm, he would need to do things that he was not eager to do.

Patting Aegon on the shoulder, Jon went back into the tent and called for a squire to come and help him dress in the armour. As the chest armour, that was baring the two griffins facing one another was being strapped to him, Ser Lorimas entered the tent quietly. “My lord.” The man bowed and looked at the young man helping the Hand put on his armour.

Lorimas dark eyes flickered to the squire before he spoke. “Go boy, I will be helping the Hand.” The knight moved to Jon and took over fastening the chest plate. “I found an entrance, but I dared not to go to close. Not with the guards on the walls.”

Jon nodded, even though they would likely not need the entrance, it was good to know that one was there. “Thank you, Ser Lorimas, your work has not gone unnoticed. However, with the catapults we will not have a need for the tunnels.”

“If you say so, my lord Hand.” The knight finished fastening the chest plate. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” There was a touch of frustration in the man’s tone, and Jon could understand. After all he had spent days sneaking around the walls, risking his life to find the entrance that they no longer needed.

Jon turned around and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Ride with Aegon and I, Ser. You have earned a place by his side today.”

The knight nodded and bowed lowly, before handing over the task of assisting Jon, to the squire. When the boy had finished helping him, Jon quickly moved out of the tent, watching as the catapults were slowly drawn towards the King’s Gate.

The Hand of the king ordered one of the soldiers to ride towards Ser Harry and get him to place two by the King’s gate and one at the Lion’s gate, where their presence was strongest. They could not risk their machines to be destroyed by the Lannister woman by placing them away from the constant presences of the main army or near where the wildfire was.

It irritated him that they did not have the manpower to encircle the entirety of the city.

They could not stay south of the city wall, trying to siege the River gate, as it was too close to the wall and running the risk of being hit by Cersei Lannister’s wildfire, and the north and east sides of the city would stretch their men too thin and if the Lannister woman somehow manged to send her men through one gate, they might be able to break through their lines.

The men of the west were in the Riverlands with the Kingslayer, hopefully slowing Jon Targaryen down if he dared to come south to take the capital.