Tormund

Tormund and Beric watched, mesmerized, as one of the white walkers dismounted his horse and walked towards the Wall. After a dozen steps, the creature raised both its arms, palms facing the Wall.

Tormund's hand nervously wrapped around the hilt of his sword. "What is that thing doing ?"

"Battle stations !" The scream sent the Wall out of its shock and into a frenzy. Crows and free folks were arming themselves and taking fighting positions. Barrels of oil were being prepared and archers were nervously placing their arrows.

Down below, arms still extended, the white walker started pacing slowly parallel to the Wall. After 50 steps, it paced back, still facing them. It reached its starting point and without any pause started a second round.

Beric got off the observation point and grabbed the first man of the Night's Watch he came across. "Dash, go to the maester and send ravens. The white walkers are at the Wall, we need every living soul. Go." The Night's Watchman was already turning around to take the stairs when Beric stopped him. "Don't send all the ravens. We will need more before these return."

Tormund had not moved since the walkers appeared, the army of the dead at their back. "Tell me. With your one eye, do you see as many as I do ?"

Beric had rejoined his side and looked to the west. Far away from them, where the Wall met the horizon, he could still see the dead coming out of the trees and positioning themselves in front of the Wall. "This is not all of them. The Haunted Forest is likely filled with 50 times that many." His gaze turned back to the white walker pacing back and forth right below them. "This is not a good time to be alive. Though I am through no fault of my own."

Tormund seemed to have a hard time processing the magnitude of their foes. "All of them free folk. They deserve their rest. Not... This."

"Good thing giving them rest is precisely the plan then."

Fear flashed on Tormund's face before quickly being replaced by determination. "You said 50 times. Is that more than we can hope to have on our side ?"

Beric took a few seconds to think. "Given the wars we went through these past decades, even if all the houses of Westeros united and we really had the unsullied and dothraki with us, we would still pale in comparison. The wars of men may have doomed us just as much as that army of corpses."

Silence fell on the Wall. Everybody was ready to fight but it seemed like the whole world was holding its breath. Other than that lone white walker, nothing in the army of the dead had moved at all since their arrival.

"Why don't they attack ?" Tormund approached the edge of the Wall and looked straight down. "Say Dondarion, where exactly is the gate ?"

Beric came to his side and looked down the Wall too. He then lifted his head back to look at the white walker, and finally back to the Wall. "We sealed the tunnel. They're not coming though there."

"Then what is that thing doing ? You think it's dancing for us ?"

"Whatever they're doing, there's nothing we can do about it. Unless you're offering to climb down there and ask them."

A grunt was the only answer Tormund bothered himself with.

Daenerys

Having isolated themselves from their traveling companions, escorted only by four unsullied, Daenerys and and Missandei observed as Drogon and Rhaegal circled far above the port of White Harbor.

Daenerys pensively watched as the dragons dove towards the bay. "Does Jon seem agitated to you ?"

Missandei took the time to watch in awe as Drogon pulled up a second before Rhaegal did. Drogon soared right back into the sky while Rhaegal lost speed as he came in contact with the water and had to produce great efforts in order to be able to take off again. Finally Missandei turned to queen Daenerys. "'Jon' your grace ?"

The Khaleesi stopped fidgeting and bit her lips. "You're right, I should call him lord Snow. Can you please wipe that smile off your face and answer me ?"

"Sorry your grace. Yes, I do believe the closer we get to his home, the more restless lord Snow becomes. Could it be he's anxious to introduce you to his family ?"

Daenerys couldn't help but break into a smile as well. "Don't be ridiculous."

Missandei smiled to herself one last time before seriously answering the question. "It seems his countrymen wanted their independence and yet he swore allegiance to you. He could be uneasy about how this turn of events will be received."

The queen pondered that possibility for a few seconds. "I don't know. He seemed confident enough the other day."

"I'm sure he was, your grace."

Daenerys glanced at her trusted adviser who she could swear was repressing a sly smile. "Why don't we speak about something else. I don't know if I'm comfortable with this conversation."

"Of course your grace. But if you really want to know what's troubling lord Snow, perhaps it would be best to ask him directly."

Tyrion

"You've seemed troubled for a few days now my lord Tyrion. Is something the matter ?"

A couple of unsullied in tow, Tyrion and Varys were making their way through the streets of White Harbor. "I am troubled. We are on our way to face a threat to the very existence of humanity, I am not allowed to get drunk anymore, and pretty soon I'm gonna sleep in the same city as my sister who has attempted to murder me on several occasions and is now the ruling queen of Westeros. The future has looked brighter."

"It has also looked darker for you my lord, if memory serves. Why it's nothing less than a miracle that you are standing here having this conversation with me after all."

"Did you just call yourself a miracle maker ?"

"I did no such thing. I am sure that a multitude of factors helped you get where you are."

"You being the biggest one. Is this your way of working up to ask something of me lord Varys ?"

"It is not. But now that you've brought it up, I am curious to know what you think of our beloved queen now that you have been her Hand for several months."

"What I think of her ? The same as you I imagine. She's a great ruler who deserves to sit the Iron Throne."

"But that's not all you think, is it ?"

Tyrion stopped walking and looked Varys straight in the eyes. "I thought we had established long ago that we were both smart men who respected each other, lord Varys. So why don't you say what you have to say instead of dancing around the issue ?"

Varys stopped as well and turned around to face him. "Apologies my lord. But as you know our Queen's opinion of me is not one a reasonable man would envy. I wouldn't want my words to be misinterpreted as spreading dissension and treachery."

"Then perhaps they would be best left unspoken."

"And that is precisely my point. Queen Daenerys is a ray of light in an era of darkness. And yet there are times when she frightens me." Varys paused for a moment, seemingly choosing his words carefully but Tyrion knew better. They were words he had undoubtedly been polishing for days. "There is some of her father in her. More than she likes to acknowledge."

It was true. Tyrion had been witness to it several times. "She's nothing like the Mad King."

Varys bowed his head and they started back towards the castle. After almost a minute of silence, Varys looked at the sky where one of the dragons flew by and was quickly out of sight. "Do you think Aeris Targaryen was born as the Mad King ?"

Sandor

"What kind of shit armor is that ?"

Unsullied soldiers were overseeing the loading of supplies onto the ships and a few of them turned to look at Sandor Clegane but all of them ignored his comment on their attire.

"It's not really made to be armor. It's more of a uniform." Ser Davos Seaworth was going through the inventory list and happened to be within earshot of the Hound's snark. "The unsullied have been trained to ignore pain so anything short of a killing blow will be useless. No point in slowing them down with heavy armor."

"Horseshit. I killed all kinds of men and I promise you when steel entered their bowels, not one stayed on their feet. They all shat themselves crying."

Davos took his eyes off the parchment and looked at the Hound. "I'm guessing you've done all this killing in Westeros. The people of Essos are different. Some of them anyway." The onion knight leaned on the ship's railing and gazed at the sea. "I dropped my anchor in Lorath once. There I witnessed a fisherman cut off one of his own toes to use as bait, all the while still talking to me, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Never broke eye contact. Thinking back on it, it was quite disturbing."

"Probably too drunk, or high, or both."

Davos' eyes set on Sandor once more. "Well, if you don't believe me, you'll be able to see it for yourself pretty soon. We are heading towards a war after all."

Sandor was eyeing the crates coming onto the ship. "Won't be much of a war."

"You don't think we stand a chance ?"

The Hound pointed over his shoulder behind him. "I have a better chance at killing one of those dragons."

Davos took a long look at him. For all the weeks they had spent on the same ship, he couldn't remember any time he saw anything other than hostility on that burned face. "You're a mean fucker aren't you ?"

"It's a family trait."

"That's bullcrap, if you don't mind my saying. My son was the most honorable, honest, devout man I've ever known. And yet look where he came from."

"Probably overcompensating. Give him a few years. He'll become as devious as his father who doesn't know when to shut his mouth."

"Seeing as he's dead that would be quite the feat."

For the first time, Sandor's expression seemed to change and Davos could swear that for a second, he saw a hint of compassion. And when it passed, it wasn't replaced by the usual frown he had grown accustomed to see on the man's face, but rather a more neutral, almost normal facial expression.

Sandor looked at Davos for a few seconds then looked away. "I didn't know."

"Would that have made a difference ?" Davos started walking away to inspect the crates that were just brought on board before turning to Sandor once more. "You know, you have the attitude of a man who thinks the world has it out for him and that everyone is plotting against him somehow. But I'm gonna let you in onto a little secret, friend. The world has better things to do. And so does everybody."

And with this parting line, he left Sandor with his eyebrows joined and his jaw clenched.

Jon

Having paid a visit to Lord Manderly at the castle, Jon Snow and his escort of northmen were heading back to the ships in the company of Brienne of Tarth and her squire Podrick.

"Lady Brienne, during your time at Winterfell, did you come across my sister Arya and my brother Bran ?

"I did, your grace. And Brienne is fine. I'm not a lady."

"And I'm not a king anymore, so you probably shouldn't call me 'your grace'."

Brienne silently acknowledged his words and waited for him to ask his next question. But instead of being more inquisitive, she watched as he paced around, a his face tensed by apparent concern.

She decided it would be better to reassure him since he seemed unable to bring himself to press the issue. "Lady Arya is in great shape, my lord. Surprisingly so. We sparred on several occasions and I must say her fighting abilities are not to take lightly. She did get the better of me on several occasions. She did get the better of Podrick here every single time, and he's grown into quite the capable swordsman."

Podrick took this as his cue to weigh in. "Lady Arya is incredibly agile and quick my lord. I don't imagine she had too much trouble looking after herself on her own."

Seeing no relief on Jon's face, Brienne kept going. "Outside of our sparring sessions, she mostly kept to herself. She's a very quiet young woman but she seemed in good spirit now that she was home, my lord."

Jon stopped in his tracks and looked at the sky. "Quiet uh ?"

Podrick shot a quick look at Brienne and she lifted her eyebrows, which he interpreted as her telling him that if he had something to say he was free to say it. "Yes my lord. But not gloomy if that is what worries you my lord."

Jon looked at the squire. "Thank you Podrick. That is good to know."

He was lying. Arya had always been exuberant, loud, and frankly speaking, a pain in the ass. For her to become like this something must have happened. Something terrible. But there was nothing to be done right now. He would be able to see for himself soon enough.

Instead of dwelling on the subject, unwilling to give in to the guilt that was brewing in his chest, Jon chose to focus on the issues at hand, the ones he could do something about.

But his resolve soon wavered and despite fearing the answer, her turned to Brienne again. "What about Bran ?"

She had seen a lot of emotions dance across Jon's face over the past minute so she considered keeping her answer vague. She elected against it however. Knowing the truth might add weight on his mind, but it was better than being taken by surprise by reality."I cannot speak for how he was when you last saw him, but I find the word I would use to describe him is 'solemn'. I did ask lady Sansa about him and she's of the mind that the accident changed him. The very few times I had the chance to speak with him, I did not believe I was conversing with a child. He speaks as a wise old man would, and he sometimes seems very distant, preoccupied by things only he sees."

Jon took the time to let all this information sink in.

"Thank you Brienne of Tarth, Podrick. It seems even more time has passed than I had realized." Lifting his head, he assumed the kingly composure he seemed to had lost for the length of this conversation. "We have a lot of work ahead of us. My people must ready themselves for the coming storm. Every minute delayed could be our undoing. Let us get back to the ships and set sail."

The three of them were almost back to their vessel when Brienne turned to Jon. "It almost slipped my mind my lord, but if you want to know more about your sister, I believe Sandor Clegane spent some time traveling in her company."

Jon looked back at her with surprise. "Did he ? I'll make sure to hear about it from her on the ride to the Wall."

That sentence had a sound of finality to it and they boarded together. Above them, a raven was flying towards the castle.

Jaime

They had been riding for two days now. The sun was still well above the horizon but Jaime knew they would have to stop at the next inn on the road if they wanted to seize their last opportunity for a warm bed before weeks of sleeping on the cold hard ground on the way to the Wall.

However, they were still too close to King's Landing to drop their guard. Cersei may have let him go, but there was no telling if she had learned of what he did, nor what she would do when she found out. Would she have him killed this time ? He wanted to dismiss the idea as simple paranoia born of his years spent at court where anything said could result in an untimely demise, but he couldn't. He didn't know his sister anymore. Maybe he never did.

"We should keep riding tonight." He said that aloud, perhaps hoping to get his companion's opinion on the matter, in vain. But perhaps it was just to convince himself it was the correct thing to do.

He glanced in her direction, trying to get a read on her. She hadn't said a word since they had left the capital. Only her eyes were visible under her silent sister outfit and the fiery light that once danced in them now seemed a distant memory, a shadow on an already dark night.

The sound of horses in the distance led Jaime to focus on the road once again. Eyes forward, he tried to maintain a confident yet unworthy of attention posture.

They arrived at a crossroads at the same time as a company of seven who rode past them to the west, forcing them to come to a halt. They were led by a young woman with olive skin wearing light travel clothes. Jaime noted some armored men coming behind her, then a couple of riders in civilian garment, and finally, bringing the rear, was probably the youngest one of the bunch. A girl of no more than 15 Jaime surmised, a spear latched to her saddle. His decades of fighting were telling Jaime that she might just be the fiercest warrior of them all.

When she rode past, she turned her gaze to them, meeting each of their eyes on her way as if she were scanning them.

Once the riders had passed, Jaime started forward again, as did his companion. He shot a glance at the westbound riders and saw that one at the rear had slowed down and turned around on her horse, intensely looking at them.

Had she recognized him ? Jaime decided to keep going at a steady pace, not giving the girl any reason to pay any more attention to them. A second glance in her direction made his breathing easier. She had rejoined her party and was now disappearing in the distance.

That encounter comforted him in their need to press on and put as much distance between King's Landing and them as possible. He was about to press his horse to a trot when his companion stopped hers.

Eyes wide, she bolted around on her saddle, facing the direction the riders had disappeared in behind some trees. She turned around to look at Jaime, seemingly sizing him up.

"Wha-"

Before he could even finish his first word, she had turned her horse around in an amazing display of equestrianism.

Jaime had no time to react and could only reach out and grab the back of her clothes, leading to them both being unsaddled when she urged her horse forward.

Jaime got to his feet in a hurry, ready to tackle her if need be, but that was unnecessary. She had tried to get up but had quickly abandoned the idea, holding her left shoulder instead.

He watched as she attempted to lift herself off the ground on her left arm before collapsing under her own weight. Turning around, he mounted his horse once again and rode back to the crossroads where her horse had stopped and was now grazing. He grabbed his bridle and brought him back to her. "Get on."

"I can't." She had spat those words like venom which was less surprising to Jaime than the fact that she had spoken at all.

"What were you trying to pull ? You think they were gonna help you ? You think they would never have learned who you are and how much Cersei would give them for you ?"

None of his questions were answered so he kept going, his voice getting louder with every sentence. "They would have taken you straight back to her. But maybe that's what you want. I have half a mind to let you go myself anyway. Why should I care about what happens to you ?" He had almost shouted that last one but managed to contain himself.

She looked straight at him. He could see the tension in the muscles around her eyes. Her fire was back. "Why DO you care ? Do you think I'll absolve you ? You're just as rotten as your sister. I'd rather die than owe my life to you."

He knelt next to her, repressing the urge to roll his eyes. "Let me see that." He grabbed her arm and started raising it. She abruptly stopped him as soon as the movement required her shoulder to come into play, her eyes watered by pain.

After carefully placing the arm back to her side, he took a step back. "Broken collarbone. Damn it."

Placing himself to her other side, he put her good arm around his neck and helped her to her feet. "Do you think your mother would approve ? Because if I recall correctly she was adamant about you staying alive."

"Do not speak of my mother."

"Don't ride off to your death."

They stared at each other for a few seconds before he helped her back on her horse, keeping the bridle in hand to make sure she wouldn't try anything again before he made it back to his own ride.

She waited for him to be back on the saddle, not giving any sign that she would attempt anything of the sort again again. "You didn't answer my question. Why do you care what happens to me ?"

"I saved you. I'm not eager to see you waste that."

A few seconds passed in silence as they stared at each other once again, this time without hostility. Her face seemed to relax and she closed her eyes. "Fine."

They were starting back when he turned to her once more. "Riding with a broken collarbone is not gonna be pleasant."

She didn't say anything but if he had to guess, he would say she had already started clenching her teeth.

Theon

Theon peaked around the corner of a house. Down the street, surrounded by a hundred of his countrymen, he was able to spot his sister in the dim light of the torches they carried.

A collar around her neck was attached to a heavy chain she had to carry herself, making her steps uncertain and her head stick to her chest. It was the only thing that could be considered clothing that he could see. She was stark naked.

One of her captors was amusing himself by sticking a few fingers inside her and forcing her forward. After a few paces of this she violently closed her legs, tightly locking his hand between them, and turned around. There was a snapping sound as his wrist broke followed by a scream when she dropped the chain right on the broken bone before he could pull his hand out.

She didn't get the opportunity to savor this however, as a flurry of hits sent her to the ground in seconds. She laid there, bare naked on the ground, curled up in a desperate attempt to protect herself from the storm of kicks she was now receiving.

The soldiers kept going for a solid minute until one of them crouched down beside her and forced her jaw open. "I promised my wife a necklace from Westeros. I figure the teeth of a westerosi are as good as any jewelry don't you think ?"

The man wasn't wearing the same clothes as the rest of them. He wasn't ironborn.

He put a finger in Yara's mouth and felt around. "Looks like someone's already started his own necklace. You naughty girl."

He reached in his pocket and grabbed a pair of pliers. "Let's make it entertaining. If you don't scream, I only take one. Does that sound good ?"

Before she had a chance to say anything he was already at work, pulling on one of her molars.

Every muscle in Theon's body was screaming at him to rush to her aid and yet he remained still, in the shadows, clenching his teeth. He did nothing but watch as she dug her fingernails deep in her right thigh and started bleeding.

Her eyes rolled back behind her eyelids and for thirty agonizingly never-ending seconds, tears rolled down her face onto the ground. But she didn't make a sound.

Finally, the tooth was out and her torturer nodded approvingly. "Good job."

He placed the tooth in one of his pockets and helped her to a sitting position. "Isn't it a shame that I'm not a man of my word ?"

And he went back for a second tooth before she had time to register what he had said.

This time Yara didn't bother trying to hold it in. She screamed. She screamed and she fought, forcing a dozen men to hold her down. And she kept screaming. She didn't stop screaming when her vocal cords started to give and her scream changed tone. She didn't stop screaming when he finally got the tooth out.

She didn't stop screaming when he went back for a third one.

She didn't stop screaming until she passed out. Only then did he stop, not interested in tormenting a broken doll.

He instead grabbed her chain and started walking, pulling her behind him, sliding on the ground. It was mercy, if there was any to have, that the ground was polished stone with some dust covering it and not a rock filled dirt road.

Theon turned away from the unbearable spectacle and realized he was shaking. He turned to the dozen men that were with him, tears in his eyes. "We get our Queen back tonight."