Game of Thrones Season 8 - Chapter 3
Winterfell – Jon
The world tilted three times for Jon Snow that day. All he believed and all he knew was a lie.
They were all staring at him from around the table, Bran, Sam, Sansa, and Arya, and it was as if through a fog Jon was seeing them, from far away, as he tried to take in the stunning news they were telling him.
First was Bran with words Jon would never forget. "We know who your mother was," he began, after they were all seated around the table in the solar of the rooms Sansa now occupied, rooms where once their father lived….only he was not really Jon's father.
Jon thought they would want to talk about what happened to them since he last saw them, years for some, weeks for others. But no, and Bran spoke, and Jon felt a shock go through him.
"Who?" he managed to gasp, wanting the answer to this question as long as he could remember.
"Lyanna Stark," Bran said and Jon felt the world tilt for the first time.
"No," was all he could say.
"It's true," Sansa told him.
Sam gave him a sheepish look. "I know you don't want to hear this, but it's the truth."
"How can it be?" Jon snarled at them. "Are you saying my father and his sister…?" But he couldn't say the awful words.
"No!" Arya almost shouted. "No…not that…because…because…"
And Jon grasped what it meant…and pieces began to fall into place, pieces of things that had been there all along he would later think. A father who would never call him son, a mother who remained nameless, a family he was not a part of…but was really, treated by all as if he was a son and brother, except by Lady Stark. And then there was Eddard Stark, one of the most honorable men in Westeros, a man who freely admitted he took a woman not his wife to bed and fostered a child on her…a bastard son…and he told the world, when most men would have tried to hide the deed, and he was forever tainted by that shame…but it was all a lie.
"Lord Stark is not my father," Jon said, his voice weak, his eyes misting over.
"Yes," Bran said in a quiet voice, and the world titled once more.
"Then who is?" Jon asked and as if a blow struck him he knew. Lyanna was kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen, had died in Dorne from an illness, everyone knew all this…but what if it had been more lies?
"Rhaegar…," Bran began and Jon finished, "Targaryen."
"Yes," said Sansa, trying to keep calm but there was emotion in her voice, as if she knew how much this news would hurt him. "It's all true, Jon. Father hid it all because he feared Robert's anger if the truth were known. Aunt Lyanna never was kidnapped or raped or any of what we have been told."
"They were in love," Sam said. "And were married by the High Septon in secret."
Jon could only stare at him. "How do you know all this?"
And so they explained. Sam read from a diary, and Bran talked about visions…and how Jon was born…and how his mother died in a stone tower in Dorne.
A decanter of wine was on the table and as they spoke Jon grasped it and poured a cup and gulped it down. At the end of the story of how Lyanna died they were all very emotional, Jon more than the rest, finally knowing who his mother was and knowing she was dead in the same moment. Only Bran was calm and steady, and spoke on things he saw and things he knew to be true. But how could they be?
"Show me," Jon said when he finished.
"I can't," Bran said and then explained how Hodor was damaged for life by what Bran had done in a vision. "I have a power I cannot yet fully understand or control. I will not risk your life."
Jon sat there, stunned…and then Bran told him the rest. "Your true name is Aegon Targaryen…and you are not a bastard."
Arya gave her younger brother a nasty look. "His true name is Jon Snow, and always will be."
"Yes," agreed Sansa. "I am so sorry, Jon. But we had to tell you."
"Aye," he managed to say. He sighed heavily. "How long have you known?"
"A few days," Arya and Sansa said as one.
"Since I read the diary," Sam said.
Bran spoke last. "A while…some, but not all."
"I didn't believe it at first," Arya said. "But it might just be true."
"I don't know what to say," Jon told them. "This changes much."
"No, it doesn't," said Sansa. "You're still our brother and leader."
That felt good coming from her, with all the tensions they had had over his leadership. She gave him a look of reassurance and Jon soaked it up.
"Cousin, not brother," said Sam, and Arya and Sansa gave him dirty looks. "Well, he is. Your cousin, I mean."
"He is our brother and always will be," Sansa retorted.
"Thank you," Jon said, finding his place again, knowing what must be. "I was wrong. This changes nothing. I am what I am and always have been."
They were silent for a moment and then Bran spoke. "What do we do now?"
They all looked at Jon. "Nothing," he said. "No one will believe it. I scarcely do."
"We sent a raven to Howland Reed," Sansa told him. "He was there when you were born. He will confirm it all…well, some of it."
Jon nodded. "We will wait for what he says."
Sam suddenly spoke in a rush. "Don't you know what this means, Jon? You're the…"
Arya interrupted. "No! Don't say that!"
But Sam pressed on. "…heir to the Iron Throne!"
Again the world tilted, for the third time. Jon felt his heart pounding and he could only breathe in…and out…and in…and then he found his voice.
"Daenerys Targaryen is heir and I am…I am nothing."
"But he is…" Sam began but Arya gave him a baleful glare and his voice stopped with a squeak.
"You tell anyone any of this and it will be the last thing you do," she said in a calm and frightening tone.
"Stop it," Jon told them. "No fighting." They all looked at him again. "Arya is right. You tell no one, any of this, especially not the Queen."
"She has to know," Bran said. "Someday."
Jon shook his head. "No…never."
"She is your aunt…and you should be king," Bran continued and Jon felt as if he would be sick, suddenly realizing something else.
"I need some air," was all he said, and he left the room.
Somehow his feet took him to the battlements over the main gate but he did not remember how he got there. People he had passed had dipped their heads to him but he scarcely saw them.
He stared down at the two dragons and there she was, standing with them, looking north past the winter town, and he felt his heart lurch. How can…if it is true, how can I be with her…like that? How can I even hold her, kiss her…love her?
"Sorry," Sam said from his side, startling him a bit.
"Don't worry about it. I am glad in a way. Finally knowing."
"Yes, but…you see, you should…"
"No, Sam. Please leave it be."
Sam nodded. "As you wish. Gilly knows, but she will keep quiet."
"Good." And then Jon knew he had to tell him. "We didn't have a chance to talk much yet."
"No. But we will."
"Sam…I'm sorry but I have bad news."
Sam stared at him. "What news?"
"About your father and brother…they joined the Lannisters and…"
"What? No, they are loyal to Highgarden."
"Highgarden was taken by the Lannisters, with your father's help. Olenna Tyrell is dead."
"Gods."
"And so are your father and brother…I'm sorry."
Sam stared at him and gulped, his eyes getting moist. "How?" he managed to say.
"They were with a supply train of grain heading for King's Landing…when the Queen and the Dothraki attacked. They died in the battle." It wasn't the whole truth but he would not tell Sam what really happened…yet.
"The Queen and the Dothraki?"
"Aye…it was a massacre by all accounts."
Sam nodded and then he coughed. "I…I need to go somewhere…I need…"
"Sam…"
"No, you were right to tell me."
"Go to Gilly," Jon said.
"Yes…yes," he said and he stumbled away.
"That wasn't easy," said Arya from behind him.
He spun around and she was nearby, leaning against a battlement. She stepped closer. "You heard?" he asked.
"I did. He had to know."
"Aye."
"Are you okay?" Arya asked and he knew what she meant.
"I don't know if I ever will be."
"You're still our brother."
He turned and smiled at her. "Aye, so you said. Gods, why did he never tell me?"
"You know why."
"I suppose I do. Still…all those years…and now he is gone."
"He is still with us, in our hearts. He was a father to you Jon, even though he was not truly your father."
"Yes…he was. Now I don't know what to do."
"Do as you have been doing," she said. "The Night King is out there. He is coming. That much hasn't changed."
She was right and he knew he could not balk from the task ahead. He would steel his heart for the immediate future and if they survived all that was coming he would deal with the past, in his own way, in his own time.
"How was it?" she asked, looking down. "Flying on a dragon?"
"Terrifying…but also exciting."
"I would like to ride one."
"Perhaps. If the Queen agrees. Only she can control them."
"Yes, only…gods! Jon you are…I mean…you're one of them! Maybe you can, too."
He knew what she meant and knew the dragons had taken a liking to him…and now he knew why. "It is possible." Then he remembered something and he wanted to change the subject. "Lord Royce told me about Baelish."
"He betrayed us all," she said in bitter tones. "All because he loved my mother."
"You executed him."
"I did."
"I heard about the Freys as well. Was it you?"
"It was."
"What happened to you, Arya?"
She sighed. "I grew up. I had to."
"I'm sorry."
She changed topics now, maybe because she didn't want to talk on it. "Gendry told me how he saved your lives."
"Aye, he did. He's a good lad. How do you know him?"
"He's my friend. We traveled together in a Night's Watch party. He was going to the Wall and Yoren was helping me escape King's Landing after…after they killed Father."
"Yoren? He was sent south to find new recruits and he disappeared. Tyrion told me he heard he died on the road north, killed by the Lannisters, and all his recruits captured."
"All true. They took us to Harrenhal to serve Lord Tywin's army."
"They attacked because of you?"
"No…they didn't know who I was. I was dressed like a boy at first and later they thought I was just some common Northern girl. They were after Gendry. I still don't know why."
Jon suddenly understood. "I know why."
"What? Tell me!"
"Not my place. Best he told you himself."
She started to go. "I have to know."
"I heard he is sick," Jon said. "Leave it be for now."
She stopped. "Tell me…please."
"Come on then. I know you won't let this go till you know."
They found Gendry in Arya's room, sitting up in bed, half asleep. A fire was roaring in the hearth, making the room hot and stuffy. Around his broad chest was some linen tied tight and underneath it looked like a poultice of some type was lying next to his skin.
"Feeling better?" Jon asked.
"A bit, Your Grace," he said as he sat up more.
"You don't need to call me that anymore."
Arya burst with impatience. "Tell me why the gold cloaks were after you," she demanded.
Gendry looked at her in surprise and then back to Jon. "You told her?"
"No…I leave that to you."
He hesitated and Arya glared at him. "Well?"
"I'm the king's son," Gendry finally said. "King Robert's bastard son."
"What?" Arya said in shock.
"They wanted my head cause Joffrey wanted all his father's bastards dead."
"Gods," Arya said. "But…how do you know?"
"The red woman, she told me. King Stannis said the same when he saw me, could see his brother in my face."
Another man who never knew who his father was, Jon thought. When he first met Gendry they had bonded over their fathers' mutual friendship. Now Jon knew his true father and Gendry's had been mortal enemies. "You two have things to talk on," Jon said, coming out of his thoughts. "And I have my duties."
Arya looked at him. "Are you okay?" she asked again.
"Yes…just need to think. See you later. And let him rest some, Arya."
He left the central keep and decided to head to the barracks, to check on his friends, to be with people who knew him better than even his own family now.
Tormund and his few survivors were crammed with the Watch in one small section of barracks. The place was crowded and stuffy and more than one man was ill. This was not good, but they had to shelter them somewhere. It would be worse when the rest of the Queen's army arrived.
"How you southerners live like animals in a cage like this I will never understand," Tormund said.
"We're not southerners," Jon protested once more. "We need to build new barracks, but there is no room inside."
"Then outside," said Edd. "We can do it ourselves. We have enough builders from the Watch."
"Aye," Jon said. "Start tomorrow. Take whatever tools and men you need. There is plenty of timber in the Wolf Woods."
Edd agreed but then he had a troubled look on his face. "What is it?" Jon asked.
"His man fucked up," Tormund told him.
"What happened?"
Edd explained. "I told the twat in charge of the ravens to send out word the Wall had fallen and about the dragon and all. I wrote down what to say and he was supposed to copy it and send the word out. The fool sent one to King's Landing as well."
Jon understood. "So now Cersei Lannister knows we only have two dragons."
"Aye."
"Not to worry," Jon said. "She would find out eventually."
"Maybe knowing the Night King has a dragon will make her send her army north," Edd ventured.
"I doubt it," said Jon.
"What's she like, this brother fucker?" Tormund asked.
"Cold," Jon said. "A woman not to be trusted."
"None are," Tormund said with a laugh. "You tell me when the big woman comes back, aye?"
Jon grinned. "For certain. Should be soon."
"Good," Tormund replied. "Then it will be time to make giant babies!"
Jon had to laugh at that and it made him feel better. But as he went outside all his troubles came back to him. He needed to think, without anyone around, and in the crowded castle there was only one place he could do that, in the godswood.
He was crossing the main court yard, heading for the godswood, when Sansa saw him.
"Jon!" she called and he stopped. "Where are you going?"
"To the godswood," he said. "I need to think."
"We need to talk."
He sighed. "I know what about. Come."
The godswood was peaceful, serene, and Jon had always liked to come here when a child, to get away from Lady Stark's baleful glares. Now a new Lady Stark was making him feel just as uncomfortable. He stopped near the weirwood by the frozen pond and turned and looked at her.
"You want to know why I bent the knee, yes?"
"No…well, yes. But you explained that enough in the great hall earlier. When I first received your raven I was upset, but now I understand. And after meeting her and seeing her dragons…gods, we surely need her and them."
"Aye, we do. And Westeros needs one leader. Her."
"I am sure all the lords will agree in time. You know what they are like. Fiercely independent."
"None of us can be independent now."
"I suppose not. The real reason I stopped you was because I want to talk about the succession…of Winterfell."
"As it appears I am no longer a Stark, it is a decision you three must make."
"She named you Warden of the North and we agree with that. You are still a Stark, half Stark at least, as you have always been."
"But not Lord Stark's son. Even though I may not be bastard now, I still can't become Lord of Winterfell. If you want my advice, the title goes to Bran."
"He does not want it. And he has no experience. The things that happened to him, the way he is now…do you understand?"
"Aye. His visions. I don't know it all but soon will. So…then it falls to you. You have been doing the job for some time now, so everyone will accept you as the Lady of Winterfell."
"Arya already has. So has Bran."
"Then there is nothing to talk about."
"I wanted your approval."
"You have it…Lady Stark," he said and she blushed a bit. "I always knew one day you'd be the lady of a great house…maybe even a queen."
She sighed. "I used to dream of being a queen, until I learned the price one must pay. Do you have any advice?"
"From what Lord Royce told me you have been doing a fine job. Just don't make Arya call you Lady Stark."
Sansa smiled at that and then her face clouded over. "Do you know what she has become?"
"A dangerous person."
"Yes."
"Good. We all need to be so."
"I suppose so," she said. "Thank you. I will leave you be." She left and looked back once at him and then she was gone.
He took out his sword and put the point in the ground and held the hilt in both hands as he knelt before the weirwood and closed his eyes. For a long time he let his mind drift over his life and he absorbed all the implications of what the news he had learned meant, and sought solace in the old gods and what wisdom they could give him. In the end he realized his first instinct was correct. Tell no one, swear those who knew to secrecy, and get on with what must be done. The only shadow in all this was his relationship with Dany.
Feeling somewhat better he rose after some time, looked up and though there was no sun in the cloudy overcast he felt that the late afternoon was here. He was hungry and started to make his way to the great hall.
This time it was Dany who saw him as he crossed the main courtyard. He was not ready to talk to her yet but he had to stop and she came up to him. "Where have you been?" she asked.
"Speaking with my family…Your Grace."
She looked at him oddly. "You don't have to call me that when no one is around."
He looked around, and many people were here, working, walking, and he kept his voice low. "I know…just, I am trying to convince them to accept you as our Queen, it would help if I showed you the proper respect."
"Yes…I suppose so."
"I have some troubling news," he said and he explained about the raven to King's Landing.
"She would find out eventually," Dany agreed. "There is nothing we can do about it except hope she comes to her senses and joins us."
"I'll not place any bets on that."
"Neither would I," she replied
They were silent for a moment. "How are your quarters?" he asked, to fill the awkwardness.
"Fine," she said. And then she lowered her voice. "Do you know where I am?"
He hesitated and then spoke. "We must be cautious," he said. "My people would take it the wrong way if they knew."
She sighed. "Lord Tyrion said as much to me when we first came to White Harbor."
"He's not wrong."
"No," she said. "But…I want you…I need you."
And he still wanted her…but could not. "I am sorry. But not here, not now."
She was stung by his rejected and he was saved by the appearance of Maester Wolkan. "Raven, Your Grace…from Lord Tyrion Lannister."
He went to hand the raven to Jon but he shook his head. "Queen Daenerys is Your Grace from now on, maester."
"Forgive me," he said and dipped his head and gave the scroll to Dany. In the dimming afternoon light she read it aloud.
"We shall leave White Harbor on the morrow at first light. Lord Varys will stay behind to command the supply lines. We have plenty of supplies and the Unsullied are being clad in better clothing. Ser Jorah suggested we leave a thousand of them behind to help defend White Harbor. I agreed, as that would ease our supply situation in Winterfell. The journey to the Kingsroad to meet the Dothraki should take about three days. We will meet them north of Moat Cailin. From there we will march north to Winterfell. I will send news when we reach Castle Cerwyn."
"They may have already left," said Jon. "How fast for a raven to reach Winterfell from White Harbor?" he asked the maester.
"A day at least," he said. "Or more if the weather is bad, my lord."
"Yes, they must already be on the way," Dany agreed. "How is the road between White Harbor and the Kingsroad?"
"Calling it a road would do it an honor, Your Grace," Maester Wolkan said
"It is hardly wide enough for a cart," Jon said. "Flat, muddy, open to the wind, with no shelter. It will be a difficult journey."
The Kingsroad – Tyrion
"I hate the fucking North," the Hound growled for the hundredth time.
"So you have said already," Tyrion growled back. He was tired, and hungover, and had a sore bottom from the saddle and horse he was riding on. The special saddle he had made for himself years ago was long gone, so he had a leather worker in White Harbor make a hasty substitute, but it was not perfect.
"It not just the cold," said Ser Jorah from behind them. "The distances. A man could walk for a week and not see a living soul."
"Let's just hope we don't see any dead ones," Tyrion quipped but no one laughed, and it wasn't truly funny at all.
"A shame the river is frozen," said Ser Davos from in front. "We could have shipped the Unsullied up river faster."
"The plan was to meet the Dothraki and that has not changed," said Tyrion.
The river he spoke of was the White Knife, which flowed into the sea near White Harbor and branched up to near Winterfell. Traveling up it by river barge would have been faster, if it had not been frozen solid. As it was they had to cross from the east bank to the west bank and near White Harbor the river still flowed fast. It would have taken forever to ship everyone across by boat so they marched for almost four miles up the east bank to find a place frozen enough to carry the weight of horse and supply wagons. All the first day it took them to cross and form up on the other side and then come south again to find the road to the west. Barely two miles from the river the trees began to thin and then it was flat open plain, rocky, snowy, muddy, a land empty of people, the land unsuitable for cultivation it seemed.
"I say we stop for the night in the trees," Ser Davos suggested and all agreed. Grey Worm shouted orders to his men and they began to fell trees and set up tents and post guards. In a short time they had made a circular camp for each of the thousand man units they were divided into. Tyrion and the other leaders joined the central camp of Grey Worm. A large distance they were spread apart and Ser Jorah did not like it.
"If we are attacked we cannot support one another."
"We are far from the Wall," said Tyrion. "I don't expect to see any wights this far south."
"Yet," Ser Davos added.
"There is always the dragon," Ser Jorah reminded them and they all looked skyward nervously.
The night passed uneventful, as did the next few days. Tyrion rode and spoke at length with Brienne and Pod, and occasionally with the Hound, catching up on all their adventures of the last few years. Ser Davos spoke on his life in service to Stannis, and filled in many more gaps in the story of Westeros' wars. Tyrion wondered on the man's seemingly benign attitude toward him, as his wildfire trick had killed his son at the Blackwater, but Davos did not seem to bear any grudge.
On the third day he was riding with the Hound in the middle of the column when the subject of brothers came up. "Where is he you think?" the Hound asked.
"I don't know. If he is smart he will stay away from Cersei and the North."
"He's not smart."
"No, I fear not. His wounded sense of honor will be the death of him yet."
"Does he still want to kill you?"
"Perhaps. He hasn't said he doesn't. Yet he has had his chances and I am still here."
"You killed his father. Man doesn't forget a thing like that."
"He was my father, too." They were silent for a moment when Tyrion remembered something about the Clegane family. "I once heard a rumor Gregor killed your father."
"Aye, not a rumor. It was after my sister died."
"I did not know you had a sister."
"No one does. She was just a girl. Gregor always said it was an accident. He bumped into her and she fell down a flight of stairs in the keep. Hit her head, hard. She lived for two days. Gregor was gone by then, to Casterly Rock, to ask your father to enter his service. Running from his mistakes. He was only sixteen but he was massive so your father took him."
"Cleganes have often served my family."
"Aye, we have. Two years later he was a knight. He came home, full of pride. Father and he went on a hunt. Gregor later said our father tried to kill him, for what happened to our sister, that he was only defending himself. Bullshit, I say. He wanted the keep, the land. That's the first time I tried to kill Gregor."
Tyrion had never heard the man speak so long and on something so private before. "What happened?"
"I lost. Beat me to a pulp. His mistake was he did not finish me. Lord Tywin heard of our feud and forbade it. Soon came the war and Gregor covered himself in glory…and women and children's blood. When Joffrey was born Lord Tywin asked me to be his shield. I could not say no. In the capital I stayed and Gregor went back to our lands, all his now."
"Now my father is dead, so you are free to do as you wish. Perhaps you should thank me."
"Always with the smart mouth."
"I do try. You know, he is more dead than alive now they say."
"But he's not dead yet. That's for me to finish…and don't you or anyone else stand in my way."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"Just make sure the Queen knows it can only end in one way."
"With Gregor on Cersei's side I think she will not disagree with that."
On the fourth day they reached the Kingsroad. They were cold and tired and some of the Unsullied suffered from frostbite and illness. They had no maesters but Missendei told him the Unsullied were well skilled in healing, but not in how to deal with frostbite.
"I will teach them how," Ser Jorah said and he went off with the interpreter to help them.
Tyrion sent Brienne, Pod, and the Hound south to see if the Dothraki were near. They came back late in the day to say they had sighted the towers of Moat Cailin but saw no one on the road.
"We can't stay here too long," Ser Davos told him. "There is no proper shelter and the cold will kill us all soon enough."
"One day we wait," Tyrion said. "Then we march north. "
There was a small copse of woods nearby, not big enough to shelter them all but they needed its wood so many Unsullied were sent to hew the trees. Tents went up, fires lit, and food prepared as it began to get dark out. Tyrion called a meeting of the commanders in his large tent.
"We will stay all day tomorrow and the next morning. If they do not come by then we must march north."
Jorah did not like it. "The Queen's orders were to wait for the Dothraki to unite the army."
The Hound grunted. "Half this army will be dead if we don't get to proper shelter before long."
"They will not die," said Grey Worm. "Unsullied can take anything."
"Aye, maybe so," said Davos. "But already you have frostbite and illness in your ranks. It will only get worse."
"He's right," Missendei said to Grey Worm. "We must march…or die here."
All eyes turned to Jorah and he nodded. "So be it. I will stay behind with a few men to wait for the Dothraki."
But they did not have to wait. On the noon hour the next day, under a cold grey sky, they saw the first outriders of the Dothraki to the south. Before long the main body of horsemen came into view. They were cold and tired, and the horses looked lean and hungry.
Tyrion gave commands to prepared food and fires and fodder for the new arrivals. And then to his utter surprise, Jaime and Bronn came riding from the midst of their ranks.
"Good gods," Tyrion said. "I thought you were dead."
"Dead?" said Jaime in surprise as he came off his horse. "No, not yet."
"Aye," said Bronn. "And we even made some new friends."
Jaime gave him a strange look. "Well, I wouldn't go that far." He looked back at Tyrion. "Why did you think I was dead?"
"We heard you had disappeared from King's Landing."
"He did," said Bronn. "Now bring us someplace warm and give us food and drink and we might just tell you a thing or two."
Into Tyrion's tent they went, where two braziers were burning bright. They warmed themselves and Pod came and helped set up food and drink.
"Stay, Pod," Tyrion commanded. "You are one of us now."
"Thank you, my lord, but my lady will want to know Ser Jaime is here." Tyrion nodded and he left them. Before long they were joined by Jorah and Davos, but Brienne did not come. They sat around Tyrion's small camp table as Bronn and Jaime ate.
"Ser Davos Seaworth," he said to Jaime and Bronn. "We were never properly introduced."
"The Onion Knight," said Jaime. "You once served Stannis."
"Aye, I did. We all seem to be serving a new master now. And what of you?"
All eyes were on Jaime now. He shook his head. "I have nothing to say on that matter. I am a private soldier looking to join a war, nothing more."
"Where's your army?" Jorah asked.
"Not here."
"Your sister made promises," Davos said.
"Apparently you already know she is not going to keep them," Jaime retorted. "Let me see…ah yes, Varys. The Spider is spinning his webs again. Where is he?"
"White Harbor," Tyrion replied. "In charge of our supplies…and doing what he does best."
"Of course," Jaime said. "What else does he know?"
"Nothing we'll tell you," Jorah said.
Jaime smirked. "I see. So shall we be allies or enemies?"
"Allies," Tyrion said at once. "But you have only brought two men."
"Two of best men in the kingdoms," Bronn boasted. Then he looked at Jaime. "Well, one and a half."
Jaime gave him a look of exasperation. "Yes…Ser Bronn here is right. I am not the man I once was with a sword. But I will do my duty to the realm. My sister made a promise and I am here to keep it…some of it at least."
"You would serve better if you had stayed in King's Landing," Jorah said. "To convince her to send her army north."
Jaime shook his head. "Nothing will convince her of that."
"She thinks we can win on our own?" Tyrion asked. Jaime nodded. "And then she will attack us when we are weakened?" After some hesitation again Jaime nodded. Tyrion sensed he wanted to say more, but wouldn't. "I would like to speak to my brother alone, my good men."
After they were gone, Tyrion poured some more wine for him and his brother. "Tell me it all," he said after he sat.
Jaime looked ashen. "She almost killed me."
"Gods. Why?"
"Because I walked away from her. Ser Gregor had his sword out and I could see the command was on the tip of her tongue. I tested her resolve and she did not give the final command…but I could almost feel the shroud of death closing in."
"Yes, I do know what that is like. I had a similar experience when I met her and the Mountain."
"And now we are in the same boat," Jaime said. "Hated by her…our last true relation."
"Her hatred never bothered me any. You seem to be taking it rather badly."
"After all I have done for her…all I sacrificed…the things I have done, Tyrion… you would not believe it."
"Try me."
He looked at Tyrion and then sighed. "You know about us, I presume."
"I am not an idiot."
"Did Father ever know?"
"He knew the rumors. But he did not believe it. Would not believe it."
"She is pregnant again."
"So I surmised. Yours?"
"Yes…but it matters not. If somehow they survive she will turn the child into what she wants, an image of her, to rule when she is gone."
"May the gods save us from that fate. What else are you ready to confess?"
He stared at Tyrion. "I want your word on something first."
"Perhaps."
"I want you to tell your Queen that my head is not for the chopping block…or a dragon's belly."
"We may have a problem there. You did kill her father."
"Has she mentioned this?"
"Not recently. Rather busy at the moment. But she will…when there is time."
"You will do your best to convince her to let me live. Join the Watch, go into exile, anything."
"I promise."
"And the same with the Starks."
"The Starks? Why…oh…bloody hell. You pushed the boy?"
He nodded, and cast his eyes away. "I did."
"He saw you and our sister?"
"Yes. A stupid mistake, one I regret…but it is done and cannot be undone."
"This may prove a problem. The Starks are not a forgiving bunch. And our father did orchestrate the Red Wedding as well. Every house in the North lost someone there."
"We had nothing to do with that."
"Ah, but our name is Lannister."
"Surely your Queen will protect you."
"Me, yes. You, I doubt it. And even if she agrees you may still end up dead. The stories that have been circulating. Someone is taking silent revenge on all the Stark's enemies. Have you heard what happened to the Freys?"
"Yes, all the men massacred with poisoned wine. That was the word when we passed through their lands."
"The word at White Harbor was a girl did it, a dark haired northern girl…who wore a mask that looked like Walder Frey."
Jaime looked at him in disbelief. "Who?"
Tyrion shrugged. "No one knows. But they are all happy for it. One fat lord boasted he would give the girl all the land and silver she wanted if he knew who had avenged the Red Wedding."
Just then the tent flap opened and Brienne came in. "Ser Jaime…Pod said you were here."
He stood and faced her. "Yes…all heading the same way, again…for the same fight."
She smiled slightly. "Good," she said.
They stared at each other and then Tyrion spoke. "Well, you two have much to catch up on. On the morrow, Jaime. We will have plenty of time to talk on the road north."
Jaime looked at him. "It feels good."
"Being on the right side of things?"
"Yes…good night."
They left and Tyrion poured some more wine. Bronn came in just after he had sat again. "So," said Tyrion as Bronn poured himself some wine. "You have a story to tell."
"Aye…but first, I want to know something."
"Of course."
"How much gold does your Queen have?"
Tyrion grinned. "We took much from Meereen, all safely stored on Dragonstone. And once she has won the Iron Throne every enemy castle in the land will be hers to dispose of."
Bronn leaned back in his chair. "If she wins."
"We have dragons."
"Where's the third one?"
"Ah, Cersei did notice that."
"She did."
"It's dead."
Bronn grinned. "I killed a dragon?"
"No, not you. The Night King."
"What?"
"Yes…and now he has reanimated it. It's his. That's what caused the Wall to collapse."
"Bloody hell."
"Indeed."
"So…where are they now? These undead men with blue eyes and their dragon?"
Before Tyrion could answer came an awful shout from outside. And then a dreaded word.
"Dragon!"
They ran out and in the dying light of day they saw every eye looking north. Jaime and Brienne were standing nearby, as were Pod and the Hound.
"What cunt shouted dragon?" Bronn asked in irritation.
"I did," said Pod as he pointed north. He always had good eyes. But Bronn's were better. He stared and then grunted. "Just a bird….shit…with someone on its back."
"Our Queen," said Jorah from behind them. "Coming to escort us to Winterfell."
"Good," said Davos from nearby.
"Well, if your Queen has suddenly turned blue and bald, I'd say you are right," Bronn told them and then they knew.
"RUN!" Jorah shouted. "Off the road!"
Tyrion ran, his stunted legs sinking into deep snow on the west side of the road, and then he was being picked up, strong arms hoisting him high in the air and then onto a strong shoulder.
"Fuck you weigh a ton," the Hound cursed as he carried Tyrion through the snow. Up ahead was a small hill and over it they went and down behind.
"Get your fucking heads down!" Bronn shouted and they all sank into the snow.
"Shouldn't we be fighting that thing?" Brienne yelled.
"Be my guest," Bronn said. "I had enough of dragons for one life. Let's just hope it doesn't see us."
Tyrion stood, he had to see, and despite the others' shouts he climbed to the top of the small hill. And saw…chaos.
Viserion winged in from the north, down the Kingsroad, and straight through their main camps of Unsullied and the newly arrived Dothraki. A long streak of blue…something…poured out of its mouth and engulfed the road and all those to the sides. Down it came through them all, the blue column not ending, seemingly getting larger as it came closer, and the Unsullied and Dothraki were fighting back.
Many Unsullied had dragon glass tipped spears and they threw them up with all their might. Many could not reach the dragon but some did…and Tyrion saw them all bounce off harmlessly. The same occurred with the Dothraki arrows.
One pass it made, one pass, of blue substance engulfing their army, and then it flew south and was gone in hardly the time it took to blink. As the Night King flew by he looked over and saw Tyrion, and it was an image Tyrion would never forget, those blue piercing eyes staring at him, with not a hint of warmth at all. He felt a chill run up his spine and knew Jon Snow was right. This was not an enemy one could ever negotiate with.
The result was devastation. As they walked back to the camps, Tyrion knew they were in serious trouble.
Men were dead, everywhere…but not burned…no…they were frozen…solid.
"Gods," said Jaime. "What foul magic is this?"
"I know not," said Tyrion, stunned as the rest.
They walked as if in a landscape of statues. Unsullied frozen in the act of throwing spears, others with mouths open as if to shout, pointing, running, falling. The Dothraki were the same, but their horses made the tableau more macabre. Frozen animals with riders on their backs, bows and arrows and spears and curved swords in hand, now all dead…or were they?
The Hound stopped by a frozen Unsullied and looked at Tyrion. "Break the ice," he said. "Gently." The Hound took out his dagger and chipped at the ice near the arm of the man…and no sooner had he done so when the arm shattered and then the whole thing collapsed on the snow and the fragments blew away in the wind. What had been flesh was now frozen, and dead.
"Bloody hell," said Davos. "How can we fight this?"
"We can't," said Jaime. "This is worse than fire."
"The fuck it is," retorted the Hound.
"Let us see how badly we are hurt," Jorah said.
It was bad, when the final count came in. Over two thousand dead, mostly Unsullied, with a few hundred Dothraki. The survivors were in shock, even the Unsullied…none more so than Grey Worm.
They found him in tears, standing by a tent that was frozen solid. Half way out of the tent was Missendei, frozen into the scene, as if she was running from the tent when it had happened.
"She was helping the sick," Grey Worm said, his face and voice grim. "The Queen…"
"She will be devastated," Jorah said. He stood close to Grey Worm. "We cannot leave her like this."
Grey Worm nodded and walked up to her, stood close, leaned in and touched her frozen face. He kissed her icy cheek and then spoke soft words none of them could hear.
"They are…were…in love," Tyrion quietly told Jaime by his side.
Suddenly Grey Worm stepped back, pulled out his short sword, and in one swift move he shattered the remains of Missendei and the whole tent and all of its occupants shattered as well and blew away in the wind.
It took them some time but they did the same with the rest. Even many of their supplies were lost, the wagons frozen solid, the food and drink and wood and so on in them now useless.
"We will all be a lot thinner by the time we reach Winterfell," Bronn said from his side as they looked south as the last light of day fled.
"Or dead, if that thing comes back," the Hound added.
"Why didn't it stay and finish us?" asked Brienne.
Tyrion looked over at her and Jaime was by her side. They both knew why.
"It's heading south," said Jaime, his voice hollow. He still loved her, despite all, Tyrion knew.
"Yes," he agreed. "The Night King and his dragon have been let loose. Nowhere is safe."
"What do we do now?" Pod asked.
"Pray," said Jorah.
"Aye," agreed Davos. "And very fucking hard."
"How do we kill it?" Jaime asked.
"With fire, or dragon glass, or Valyrian steel," Tyrion told him. "If we can get close enough."
"That will be the Queen's job," said Jorah. "I am riding north, now. I must get word to her about what has happened."
"Yes," said Tyrion. "Take some supplies and Dothraki with you, if they are rested enough. You speak their language, do you not?"
"Aye," he said and left without another word to organize the men he needed.
"It's time we moved as well," Davos said to him.
"It will be dark soon," said Bronn.
"No matter," Tyrion replied. "We must get to Winterfell and the dragons as soon as possible. If that dragon comes back, we will all be frozen corpses. See to the preparations, if you please."
They went to take care of matters, and soon only Jaime and Tyrion stood on the road looking south.
"He won't come back," Jaime said. "Not yet."
"I know. We were just a chance happening. Two strangers meeting on the road. He has bigger fish to fry south of here."
"He will go for King's Landing."
"He will. And there is nothing we can do about it."